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Sweater Weather Hurt/ Comfort

Summary:

Collection of hurt/ comfort and angst with a happy ending fics

Inspired by Sweater Weather by @lumosinlove

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1: Table of Contents

Chapter Text

Angst w/ a Happy Ending

  1. Call Me Home (Sirius won’t pick up his phone)
  2. Blowout (O'Knutzy fight)
  3. Newly Minted (Coops fight)
  4. Delicate Balance (Coops argument; Remus gets injured fighting Snape)
  5. Outing (the team’s reaction to the pictures)
  6. Twilight Zone (O'Knutzy angst; Logan has a nightmare)
  7. Self-Care (Finn’s worst habit + O'Knutzy argument)
  8. Seamless (Remus is insecure about his stretch marks)
  9. Married Life (Coops’ first big fight as a married couple)
  10. Speckle (Regulus’ insecurity and Leo’s friendship)
  11. Fight Night (Remus vs homophobic hockey players)
  12. Life in Color (Sirius’ interview post-disownment and the subsequent breakdown)
  13. Money, Money, Money (Remus feeling guilty that Sirius pays for things)
  14. Hell’s Kitchen (Remus’ shitty relatives on Thanksgiving)
  15. Testimony (Lions vs Snakes after Regulus releases his statement)
  16. Lockdown (Sirius confronts his parents)
  17. What You Have, What You Hate (amnesia fic; Cap hits his head)
  18. Lost and Found (Finn and Leo help a lost child)
  19. Falling for Forever (amnesia sequel; healing and love in all its forms)

  20. May It Never Leave You (amnesia fic [Logan’s Version])

  21. Lost and Found (Finn and Leo help a lost child)

  22. Miss A Little More (PT Remus missing hockey)

  23. Gnaw at the Bone (Sirius and Regulus argue)

 

Hurt/ Comfort:

  1. Safe In Your Arms (Sirius has a nightmare)
  2. Panic (Skating incident with Remus and Logan)
  3. Breakdown (Sirius deals with media pressure)
  4. What We Deserve (Remus in a depressive episode)
  5. Knockout (Sirius gets knocked unconscious; Remus is frustrated about PT)
  6. Bounce Back (Knockout pt. 2; O'Knutzy comes to visit)
  7. Yellow, Red (Coops safeword; vague smut at the beginning)
  8. Call It Off (Sirius uses the safeword; vague smut at the beginning)
  9. Alarm Bells (Sirius’ panic attack after Arthur yells at him)
  10. Alarm Bells 2 (Arthur’s apology)
  11. Spotty (Leo is insecure about his acne)
  12. Creep (Guy hits on Remus at a fundraiser ft. Leo Knut being an outstanding friend)
  13. Lose-Lose Situation (Loops’ first loss with the Lions)
  14. River Lethe (Remus has a nightmare)
  15. Bubble Bath (Sirius has a rough day)
  16. Roots and Veins (Nightmares and broken ribs)
  17. Let Me Be Your Shelter (Jules gets bullied at school)
  18. Comeuppance (Bullying sequel)
  19. Sick and Tired (Finn and Loops bonding after a lousy interview)
  20. Fury (Remus gets knocked unconscious during a game)
  21. Resurgence (Sirius gets a migraine)
  22. Where the Heart Is (Sirius’ first day with the Dumais’)
  23. Endless Road (Reg and Sirius bonding)
  24. Chocolat (Regulus has a nightmare)
  25. Insomniac (Loops can’t sleep)
  26. Shield (Logan has a panic attack during practice)
  27. Sick Day (Cap has to stay home from a roadie)
  28. Braindump (Sirius at therapy + Coops pillow fort)
  29. Home Vet (Hattie gets a splinter)
  30. Pre-Game Rituals (Remus at therapy before the Greyback game)
  31. Reminisce (Remus has a panic attack)
  32. Parental Figure (Moody and Remus after Coops are outed)
  33. Don’t Touch My Goalie (Leo gets hurt in a game + protective Lions; Leo and Kasey bonding)
  34. Mochi (Sirius stress-baking + some late-night comfort)
  35. Hey, Brother (Dumo snaps at Logan + Cap and Lo bonding)
  36. All-Canadian Reject (Sirius and Regulus bonding; college rejection)
  37. Talking Smack (Kink gone a bit wrong + safeword; nsfw themes/ scenes)
  38. Hazards (Finn gets hurt by a Tampa player)
  39. Mighty Ducks (Sequel to Hazards; O'Knutzy and Hattie cuddles)
  40. Laundry Day (Regulus call Sirius for help in college)
  41. Just Because (Sirius gets triggered by something small)
  42. Drop the Gloves (Young Remus gets in a fight at school)
  43. Bottled Up (Coops argument; Remus and his feelings)
  44. Comfort Zone (“please pretend to be my fake boyfriend so I can avoid my creepy ex” with the Lions at a bar)
  45. Get His Ass (Creepy guy hits on Lily at a bar; the team doesn’t approve of that decision)
  46. Lay By Your Side (Small Coops argument; comforting Sirius after a nightmare)
  47. Mama, the Angel (Hope and Sirius after the airport outing)
  48. Ghosts (Hattie the unofficial emotional support dog)
  49. Oh, You’re My Best Friend (Prequel/ Sequel to Testimony [above]; Leo and Reg friendship)
  50. The Other Line (Reg and Leo make poor decisions on occasion)
  51. Rewind (Remus running drills after a bad game)
  52. Take A Breather (Coops comfort; sequel to Lockdown [above])
  53. Weft (Regulus’ POV of Lockdown [above])
  54. Nosebleed Section (Logan gets hurt during a game)
  55. Healing Hands (Harvard FinnLo concussion comfort)
  56. Big Stretch (Logan discovers yoga)
  57. Bonus Brother (Sirius comforting Jules)
  58. Test Drive (Jax and Regulus navigating friendship)
  59. Au Revoir (Leo says goodbye to Reg at the airport)
  60. You Give Me Fever (O'Knutzy’s kid sickfic)
  61. Fledgling ( Rookie Sirius coming to Dumo’s for help)
  62. Babysitter (Reg helping Sirius with his broken ribs)
  63. Backslide (Remus gets hurt in a game)
  64. Safe and Warm (Sirius is frustrated with his broken ribs)
  65. Toddle (Harry wanders off at the rink; Lily makes an unexpected ally)
  66. Ritual (Sirius’ anxiety and superstitions)

  67. Balm (Remus and Hope in the hospital)

  68. Scary Movie (Finn’s sick day on Halloween)

  69. Mercury in the Microwave (Big storm + power outage = emotional healing)

  70. God Only Knows (Harvard FinnLo and the most frustrating day)

  71. Hold Out Your Hand (Finn’s bad day + Cub comfort)

  72. Sick Season (Sickfic--Remus takes care of Jules)

  73. Fallout (Regulus’ friends uncover the truth)

  74. Shiver (PT Remus + trauma response, ft. Moody comfort)

Chapter 2: Call Me Home

Summary:

Sirius won't pick up his phone

Chapter Text

“He’s not answering his phone.”

“Still?”

James slipped his cell phone into his pocket. Remus’ eyes were trained on the floor, as they had been since his arrival. “Look, Loops, you remember what he was like before. You know him better than any of us. I think—I think you might be a little too close to this, though.”

“Too close?” Remus snorted without humor. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Loops, c’mon.” James sat next to him on the couch, but Remus refused to make eye contact. “Remus. You know how Sirius deals with his problems. He shuts down and pushes everyone away because he feels like he has to be perfect all the time, even though we tell him every fuckin’ day how much he means to us. It’s just—with you, he doesn’t do that.”

“He’s never like that with me,” Remus muttered. James remained silent. “Not—not since the airport. He promised.”

And, shit, if that didn’t just break James’ heart. He wanted to be angry at Sirius: who gave him the right to cause his loved ones so much stress? That day at the airport, leading a shaking and shell-shocked Remus away by the shoulders, had been once of the worst of James’ life. “I know, that’s why I’m worried about you.”

“36.” Remus’ voice was so quiet that James almost missed it.

“What?”

“I called him 36 times while he was at All-Stars and he didn’t answer a single one. He swore he would never do that to me again.” Remus let out a trembling breath and James placed his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I’m not even angry, I’m just scared.”

“Me, too,” James confessed. Sirius’ instinct to run may have helped him survive for the first twenty-odd years of his life, but it wreaked havoc on his new support system. “Do you want me to try again?” Remus shook his head. “I can call Coach and see if he’s at the rink?”

“I already sent him a text, and Moody,” Remus said, running a hand through his hair. There was a gentle clacking noise and Hattie appeared around the door with her head cocked to the side. She wagged her tail and trotted over to them, then rested her head on Remus’ knees with a low whine. “Hey, babycakes. James, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I want to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I know what this feels like and I don’t think either of us should be alone right now or we’ll both worry ourselves into a spiral.”

“That’s fair.”

They sat in silence for a moment. James had knocked on Sirius’ door in the hours after the photos were released until his hands and feet when numb from cold, and he wasn’t looking forward to trudging through parks all afternoon to track him down. He knew he would never understand the urge to self-isolate and couldn’t blame Sirius for his shitty upbringing, but he wished his best friend had a better way to deal with his feelings.

He was about to suggest turning on the radio to distract themselves when Remus’ phone rang, startling them both with the volume. Remus scrambled to answer, his eyes wide. “Sirius?” There was a low buzzing noise on the other end and he frowned. “Dumo? Are you—who?”

Sirius? James mouthed. Remus nodded. Thank god. He leaned back against the couch and let out a long, slow breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. If Sirius was with Dumo, he would be safe. He kicked himself a little for not thinking to check there as well, but they had no time to waste on self-pity.

“Pots and I will be there in twenty,” Remus said. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Pascal.”

James’ had the car running by the time Remus got his shoes on and let Hattie into the backyard. “I’m driving,” he said before Remus could protest. “You get to take deep breaths and focus on not strangling your fiancé when we get there, okay?”

“Got it.” Remus reached over and stopped James’ fingers from tapping on the steering wheel. “If you’re driving, you’re not allowed to freak out either.”


A knock on the front door startled Pascal Dumais out of his algebra-induced haze. He had been a decent student in school, but Adele’s math homework was a whole new level of confusing that he was not nearly prepared enough to review with her. There was another knock, harder and more frantic than before, and he frowned. The team always called before they came over, and solicitors rarely stopped by.

Adele raised an eyebrow, but cleared her stuff off the table and headed up to her room as Dumo went to the door. “Bonj—oh, mon fils.”

“It’s bad again,” Sirius said quietly. He was blinking fast and his hands flexed like he wanted to reach for something. “It’s really, really bad again.”

“Come inside.” Dumo opened the door the rest of the way and led Sirius into his office, away from any possible disruptions or unwelcome eyes. He had total faith in his family’s ability to comfort and support, but this was not the first time Sirius had come to him for help. He needed space to work through whatever was going on. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he croaked, swallowing thickly. “I wish I did, but it came out of nowhere. I was just thinking about how lucky I am now and then I remembered that I left Reg with them and he got hurt because of it.”

“Sirius, look at me,” Dumo said gently. “When did this start?”

“An hour ago? Maybe two?” He shook his head. “Time is…hard, when I get like this.”

“What did Remus say?” Sirius remained silent. “Mon fils, did you tell him what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Why?” A murmured answer. “Pardon?”

“He has enough to worry about. His parents are visiting in a week, and he hasn’t been sleeping, and he’s stressed about the Knights game—”

“Arrête.” Sirius’ jaw closed with a snap and he looked up with guilty eyes. “Remus loves you, of course he’ll be worried about you.”

More misery darkened Sirius’ face and Dumo reached for his hands. “Fuck, I left again. I promised I wouldn’t do that.”

“Has he called?”

“I put my phone on silent. The ringtone…” he gestured vaguely at his ears. Headache.

“Hold on while I get you some water. I’m going to call Remus and tell him where you are, alright? Just so he knows you’re safe.” Dumo stood up, but paused by the door. “He’s going to want to come and see you. C’est bon?”

Sirius sniffled. “Ouais.”

Celeste was waiting for him in the living room with concern etched all over her beautiful face. “Il est bon?”

“Oui, mon amour. Thinking about Regulus and his parents again.” Dumo kissed her forehead and she held him tight around the chest. For all her softness, her love was fierce. “He didn’t tell Remus where he went.”

She made a heartbroken noise. “That poor boy. Should I call?”

“Non, je vais.” Dumo let her go with one more kiss and dialed Remus’ number. He had barely lifted it to his ear when the line connected.

“Sirius?”

“Sirius just showed up at my front door.”

“Dumo? Are you—who?”

“Sirius. He’s having a rough time and mentioned that you didn’t know where he was, so I figured I’d call.”

“What happened? I was taking a nap and when I woke up, he was gone. James has been here for half an hour. We couldn’t get ahold of him. Can we come over?”

“Of course. I think he needs you more than me right now.”

“Pots and I will be there in twenty.” There was a moment’s pause on the other end, where Remus’ anxious breathing crackled. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Pascal.”

“Anything for my boys, eh?” Remus laughed weakly and the call ended with a click. Dumo made sure to keep his ringer on as he put his phone back in his pocket and went to get water from the kitchen.

“Is Sirius okay?” Adele asked from the doorway. “He seemed upset.”

“He’s feeling better now, mon chou. He just needed someone to talk to.”

Adele tugged the end of her braid, an old habit from when she was younger and tried to grow her hair out like Rapunzel. “Are he and Remus fighting?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. Remus makes him happy.”

Dumo smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Oui, he does.”

Eighteen minutes and three glasses of water later, Sirius had calmed down enough that his chest didn’t hitch with every inhale. The rapid knock on the door startled them both; Dumo saw some of the guilt return to his face and made a mental note to kick Orion Black in the back of the knees the next time he showed his face. Sirius was a good man down to the bone and he deserved to be able to live without regret over things he couldn’t control.

“Sirius?” His shoulders sagged as Remus’ voice floated in from the hall and Dumo patted his forearm.

“In here.”

Remus appeared half a second later, flushed from the cold, and nearly collapsed against the doorframe when he saw them. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Sirius confirmed, but his tone wobbled on the second word and he scrunched his nose up. Remus crossed the room in three steps and wrapped him in a hug, squeezing his eyes shut as Sirius buried his face in his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry.”

A strangled huff punched out of Sirius’ chest and a tear trickled down Remus’ cheek. “I know. I know you’re not, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Dumo stood up walked silently into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a nod to James. This conversation was not for anyone else’s ears.

Chapter 3: Blowout

Summary:

O'Knutzy get in an argument

Chapter Text

It started with a book.

It wasn’t a particularly special book—on the contrary, it was a beat-up copy of A Tale of Two Cities that Leo had received as a birthday present years ago. He didn’t even like the book that much, but it was a rainy day and he hadn’t slept and he wanted something familiar to daydream through.

There was a heavy, irritated sigh from the kitchen. Leo glanced up at Finn, who was folding laundry, and frowned. “Lo, you okay?” Finn asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“It’s just—it’s fine.”

Finn set a pair of socks down and ducked into the kitchen; Leo turned back to his book, but kept both ears pricked. “What’s wrong?” Finn’s voice was soft and concerned.

“I don’t know, I’m just upset,” Logan answered. Dishes clanked in the sink and Leo winced, silently hoping none of them would be chipped. “Just finish the laundry and we can go to bed.”

Something in his tone rubbed Leo the wrong way and he stood, joining Finn in the doorway. “Hey, don’t talk to him like that.”

“Like what?” Logan set a fork down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You’re being snappy and I don’t like it. Finn doesn’t, either.”

Finn turned to look at him reproachfully. “What’s your deal?”

“Well, I was kind of looking forward to a quiet evening where we could hang out and read, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

Logan huffed. “Maybe if you pulled your weight around here we could have a quiet evening.”

Excuse me?”

“Finn and I have been cleaning for the last hour while you read your stupid book—”

“Leave me out of this!”

“—and I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you.”

Leo’s eyebrows rose and he huffed out a laugh, hardly believing his ears. “I’m sorry, who’s the one that leaves wet towels on the floor every fucking time he showers? Oh, but pardon me for taking an hour and a half to read after not sleeping because somebody was kicking me last night.”

“Both of you, cut it out,” Finn tried, holding his hands out to placate them. Blood thundered in Leo’s ears—he had no idea why his temper was flaring so suddenly, but he wasn’t going to back off and let Logan win. “Logan, I can finish the dishes. Leo, take a deep breath.”

“You’re taking his side now?” Leo asked incredulously. “You always take his side.”

“I’m not taking sides, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you two!”

“What do mean, he always takes my side?” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, quiet rage twisting his face.

“That’s what you do.” The words were coming out of him in a torrent—unstoppable and furious. “You two tag-team every time we get in a fight and suddenly I’m outnumbered.”

“Wha—tag team?” Finn shook his head in disbelief. “Leo, what the fuck are you talking about? I love you, Logan loves you, and you love us.”

If Leo hadn’t been so angry, he probably would have missed Logan muttering under his breath. Instead, he rounded on him, his fists clenching and unclenching. “What did you just say?” Logan glared and kept his mouth shut. “Logan, what did you just say?”

“Nothing you’ll care about,” he said coldly.

Leo shook his head and grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “Fuck off, Logan. Just fuck off.”

The slamming of the door behind him was not nearly satisfying enough to quell his nausea and the pounding in his head. He got in the car and turned off the radio with a hard jab to the CD port; the opening notes of one of Logan’s favorite songs from the road trip playlist made Leo’s eyes sting as he pulled out of the garage and headed down the road.

“What did I just do?” he asked the empty car. “Jesus, Leo, you just stormed out with no plan and left two angry boyfriends behind, and now you have nowhere to go and nothing to do and nobody to go home to—”

He pulled over, parked the car, and burst into tears. Leo hadn’t cried like that since his first night in Gryffindor, so far away from home and too afraid of waking Logan up with his sobs to do more than silently weep into his pillow. Logan had definitely heard anyway, because when he woke up the next morning there was a hot cup of coffee next to the door.

“I fucked up.” The steering wheel made his forehead itch. “I fucked up so bad, oh my god.”

You need to go somewhere, the reasonable voice in his head that sounded quite a bit like his dad chided. If you go back and apologize, they’ll take you back.

I can’t. It’s too soon and I’m still upset.

Then think. Who else cares enough to let you stay?

Leo sniffled and wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. No, not his sweater—Finn’s. It took him another five minutes to pull himself together enough to turn on his blinker and head out onto the road again, following the familiar path without even needing to check his phone. The December air made the dried tears on his cheeks extra cold as he walked up the driveway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shivering in the cold. This was nothing like home.

He heard the doorbell ring through the house and stepped back a bit to admire the holiday lights in a rainbow of colors. They sparkled, a beacon against the night that made his heart clench. The door swung open a few moments later. “Hey, Leo, what’s…going on?” Remus trailed off.

“Hey,” he sniffled. “Uh, can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Remus moved to the side so he could enter and he slipped his shoes off in silence, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t absolutely lose it right on the welcome mat. “Are you okay? Sorry, bad question. What happened?”

“We got in a fight,” Leo said miserably, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Logan and I. Finn got dragged into it and really it was my fault and I just kinda left.”

“Okay. Do you want a hug?”

He nodded without a word and Remus wrapped him tightly in his arms. He rubbed soothing circles on his back—Leo felt more tears slide down his face as he melted into the warm touch. “I’m sorry for not letting you know I’d be here.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re always glad to see you. Can we move into the kitchen for a sec so you can drink some water?”

“Once a PT, always a PT,” Leo joked halfheartedly as he pulled away and scrubbed at his eyes. “Ugh.”

The kitchen was cheerful and simple, with dark red walls and white cupboards. He sat down at the island and put his chin on his forearms as Remus got him a glass of water and dampened some paper towels. “I don’t know where I put the tissues, sorry.”

“Thanks, Loops,” he said, wiping his face.

“Re, was someone at the door?” Sirius came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.”

He glanced at Remus, then set his empty bowl on the counter and leaned against the fridge. “What’s up?”

“Logan and I got in a fight.”

“With each other?”

“No, with the mailman,” he snapped, instantly regretting it. His lower lip wobbled; this was just how the fight had begun in the first place. “Sorry. Yeah, with each other. And Finn.”

“Where are they?”

“At h—home.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I left.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked carefully, sitting down next to him.

Leo’s shoulders slumped and he rested his temple on Remus’ shoulder. “It was so stupid.”

“Don’t talk like that, it was clearly important.”

“I was reading for an hour instead of helping them clean up because I was so fucking tired, and Logan was frustrated that I wasn’t helping. Finn tried to calm us both down, but I accused him of taking sides and then Logan mumbled something and wouldn’t tell me what he said.” It all blubbered out on a fresh wave of emotion and Remus handed him the paper towel again.

“That doesn’t sound stupid,” Sirius said in the gentlest voice Leo had ever heard him use.

“Really?”

“Really. It sounds like you let some things build up for too long, like a volcano.”

Leo sniffled. “You sound like my dad.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.” He straightened up again and took a long sip of water. “God, I feel awful.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not surprised. Have you eaten recently?”

“We were going to have dinner when Lo finished with the dishes. So, no.”

“You want a sandwich?”

“Yes, please.” To Leo’s surprise, Sirius pulled a block of cheese out of the fridge and bread out of the cupboard. “You cook?”

He and Remus made identical ‘ehhh’ noises. “Un peu,” Sirius laughed. “I burn soup, but grilled cheese is easy.”

“How the fuck do you burn soup?”

“You want to know the worst part?” He looked over his shoulder briefly. “It was canned soup.”

What?

“Mhm. I turned the heat on high because I thought it would cook faster.”

Leo’s tide of emotions molded into total confusion. “Why would you do that? The instructions are on the can.”

“Strangely enough, that’s what I told him,” Remus said wryly. “And still it’s happened twice.”

“You are so mean to me,” Sirius sighed as he turned the stove on. “I make you grilled cheese sandwiches and this is the thanks I get?”

“Sorry, love.”

“How do you do that?” Leo asked.

Remus turned back to him. “Do what?”

“Have this…” He gestured vaguely. “Perfect, amazing relationship. How?”

Sirius snorted and returned to his place by the fridge. “It’s not perfect.”

“But you’re so happy all the time.”

“Aren’t you?” Remus asked. “When you’re with your boys, aren’t you happy?”

Yes,” he answered immediately. “They’re the best thing in the world.”

“Do you have a perfect relationship?”

“Uh, no.”

“There’s your answer.” Remus spread his hands. “Fights happen. Sometimes you can’t stand to even be in the same room as your person, or your people. Sometimes it feels like everything they do drives you crazy. But that doesn’t mean you stop loving them, and they don’t stop loving you.”

“The fight wasn’t about me reading,” Leo said quietly. Understanding was beginning to settle in. “And it wasn’t about Logan leaving towels all over or me not pulling my weight. I think we both just had bad days. Is that normal?”

“I hope so,” Sirius said. “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.”

“I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.”

“I was—I am—scared,” Leo confessed. “There’s just so much happening all the time. Finn and Logan…they’re my center point. My anchor.”

Sirius slid a perfect grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and handed it to him. “Then you should tell them that.”

Just as he took his first bite, the doorbell rang. Remus frowned. “We’re popular tonight.”

After checking his phone quickly, Sirius wandered down the hall, and in his absence a large black dog came out of the living room to set her head on Leo’s thigh. “Hey, Hattie.” He scratched her behind the ears and tore off a piece of his sandwich to give her.

“Oh. Hello.” Sirius sounded surprised.

“Hey, Cap.”

Leo froze and Remus’ eyes widened. “Have you heard from Leo?” Finn asked. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Because of the fight,” Sirius said.

Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Tact,” he muttered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Leo could picture Finn’s face in his head, uneasy and worried. “So he’s talked to you?”

“He’s been in our kitchen for the last half hour.”

What?” Logan’s voice cracked. “He’s—can we come in?”

“No shoes in the house.” There was a moment of rustling, then a staccato pattern of footsteps in the hall before Logan and Finn appeared in the entrance.

Mon dieu.” Logan nearly collapsed against the doorframe when he saw Leo; his eyes were red-rimmed and he seemed to be a bit of a wreck. “I’m so sorry, Peanut.”

“We’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” Remus said, slipping out of the room with a final glance to Leo.

“My phone was off, sorry,” he said quietly, feeding Hattie another bit of bread. The pressurized fury from before was completely gone—he only felt regretful now, and utterly exhausted. “I’m also sorry for yelling. And accusing you. And for dragging you into it, Finn. Oh, and for leaving.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Logan took two tentative steps closer and Leo stood up, holding his arms out. Relief crashed over his face and he nearly tackled him in a hug. “I took out my bad day on you and as soon as you were gone I regretted it. Merde, Leo, I’m sorry.”

Extra warmth cocooned them both as Finn joined the hug. “I love you both so much,” Leo mumbled into Logan’s hair.

Logan snuggled closer. “I love you, too.”

“Me, three.”

They all laughed weakly at that, stepping back and sitting down at the island. Leo bit the inside of his lip. “So…things were said.”

“Things were said,” Logan agreed. “I didn’t mean what I said about cleaning up after you.”

“I know. I didn’t mean what I said about tag-teaming.” He winced at the memory. “That was flat-out mean and uncalled for. And Finn…” Finn looked up from petting Hattie. “I used you as leverage and that was horrible.”

“Same here,” Logan said guiltily.

“Yeah, let’s not do that again, okay?” Finn looked between them and raised his eyebrows as they both nodded. “I don’t take sides when I’m choosing between my boyfriends.”

“Leo…” Logan started and trailed off.

“Yeah, Lo?”

He struggled for the words for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Do you—do you want to know what I said in the kitchen?”

In the kitchen…Leo wracked his brain and tried to remember. They had been arguing, and then Logan muttered something he couldn’t hear. He was tempted to say yes. “No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “We were both upset. Whatever it is, I don’t think you meant it, so it doesn’t matter now. We’ve fought enough tonight.”

“Should we head home, then?” Finn suggested, taking both their hands. “I’m pretty tired and hungry.”

“You could ask Cap to make you a grilled cheese,” Leo joked. “They’re damn good.”

“Cap can cook?” they chorused incredulously.

Chapter 4: Newly Minted

Summary:

Coops get in a fight

Chapter Text

Day 1

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Remus shoved his toothbrush back in the holder more aggressively than he probably needed to. His hands were shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“Really? Again?”

What?” Sirius asked again. He had the nerve to sound truly bewildered and the bed creaked as he stood up. “What did I do?”

“You left the toothpaste uncapped and it’s all over the sink,” Remus sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late to fight about this.

Sirius gave him a look. “Re, there’s literally one smudge.” He swiped it away with his thumb. “There. Better?”

“No, it’s not better. I told you I hate it when you do that.”

“Are you okay? You seem…upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped. Sirius recoiled at his tone and he bit back a second retort. “Look, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“What—sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, okay?” Remus grabbed a fresh set of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt out of the dresser. He couldn’t handle being surrounded by Sirius’ smell right now. “Just…not tonight.”


Day Two

They ate breakfast silently. Every ping of Sirius’ spoon against his cereal bowl was like nails on a chalkboard as he choked down a slice of toast and all but chugged his coffee. “So…” Sirius started, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Not really,” Remus muttered. “I’m going to run to Target and get some groceries.”

“In your pajamas?”

Remus went upstairs without a word. He slept on the living room couch again that night and tried desperately not to miss Sirius’ solid warmth next to him. This is good for you both, he repeated again and again and again. Space is good. Space is healthy.


Day Three

Sirius didn’t bring it up again, but he stole quick, worried glances that Remus caught in his periphery whenever they were in the same room together. There was a gentle knock on the living room doorframe and he poked his head in, offering Remus a grilled cheese sandwich that basically broke his heart. “I’m really sorry about the toothpaste,” he said softly when Remus didn’t respond. “Um, I made dinner, but you seemed busy. So. Here.”

“Thanks,” Remus managed. As soon as he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, silent tears began streaking down his face. The sandwich tasted like sawdust. “You need to breathe,” he reminded himself. “If you move too fast it’s going to fall apart. If you can’t exist apart then you won’t be healthy together.”

And yet somehow he was unhappier than he had been in more than three months, even when they were still living in the same house.


Day Four

Remus ran errands. Hung out with Lily in the park. Made lunch and left a brief note next to the crock pot for Sirius to find when he was done working out. Love you, it read. Simple. Normal. Healthy.

His back was beginning to cramp from the too-small couch. His feet were cold every night. Lily’s silent concern played over and over again in his head as he drifted into a fitful sleep.


Day Five

It was getting easier to create distance with Sirius despite the fact that they shared most spaces. He offered quick smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, chaste kisses whenever he left the house, and even scooted over to make room for him on the couch when the Avatar reruns started on Nickelodeon.

“Remus, are you mad at me?” Sirius asked after a period of suffocating silence. Hearing him say his name was strange—his accent curled around it in an unfamiliar way, like he was making a conscious effort not to slip up. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. It was agonizing to be so close to him and yet so far away. They always cuddled on the couch.

“No,” Remus said in a small voice. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Is this…are you breaking up with me?” From the soft huff of air that came after it, Remus knew he had been sitting on this for a long time.

“What? No!” He turned, making eye contact for the first time in days. It was brutal and made him feel raw. “No, I love you.”

Sirius’ shoulders folded in slightly and he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“I—I don’t know,” Remus forced himself to say. I love you! He wanted to scream. I love you so much it’s scaring me. I miss everything about you, even the toothpaste smudges on the sink and the way you look at me when you find more of my socks scattered around. I miss holding you and racing shopping carts in Target with you. I miss your laugh and your smile and just being near you. “Probably. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” The words sounded like they pained him. “Take all the time you need.”

“This isn’t payback,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is not payback for the time we spent hiding, okay?”

Sirius gave him an astonished look. “How did you…?”

“Because I know you.” He was miserable. So fucking miserable. “I know you, Sirius, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

One question hung unspoken between them. Then why are you staying away?


Day Six

Sirius was gone when he woke up, but a sticky note in his careful handwriting rested on the end table near Remus’ face. He frowned as he sat up—he been too drained to deal with tangled blankets when he went to sleep, but sometime in the night they had been smoothed all the way up to his shoulder and a second one had been added to cover his feet. Remus shoved down the urge to burst into tears and grabbed the note to distract himself.

Remus, it began. Ouch.

Pots and I are taking Harry to the park today, I’ll be back around six. Lily said she wanted to talk with you at some point so keep an eye out for her calls. Thanks for picking up extra pasta at the store.

Love you,

Sirius

He smoothed his thumb over the note, feeling each bump and curl of Sirius’ pencil because his vision was too blurry to make out the words a second, third, fourth time. “This is bullshit,” he said to himself. “This is bullshit!”

When the slight echo of his shout faded out, he set it back on the table and curled up, drawing both blankets tight around himself. “Why am I doing this?”

1.      You had sex before you went on a real date

2.      You went through a traumatic event and are still working through it

3.      You’re so fucking scared of how much you love him

4.      You want to spend forever with him because he’s your best friend, too

5.      Normal couples date for at least a year before moving in together

6.      Normal couples—

“Fuck it.” He shook his head to clear the anxiety list from his brain. He had been reciting it to himself for days as some sort of convoluted justification. “Fuck it. I love him and this is bad for both of us. So what if we’re not a normal couple? What the hell is a normal couple? We’re never going to be normal and I love him, I love him, I…”

The low sobs that resonated in his chest burned in the best way. His breathing was even, but he just couldn’t repress this anymore. “I’m a coward,” he sniffled, sliding further under the heavy blankets. His pajamas only smelled like laundry detergent and regret. “And an idiot.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Lils.”

“Well, you sound like a wreck.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Re?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

“And I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“I’m done self-flagellating to try and fit the societal standards of a healthy relationship based on heterosexuality.”

“There’s my Remus,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”

“Better now. I’ll fix this when Sirius gets home.”

“Good. You’re both suffering from this.”


 Day Seven

When Remus woke up, it was pitch-black outside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to the ceiling, scrubbing at his itchy eyes. The wall clock read 12:06. After another thirty minutes of crying, he had cleaned the whole house top to bottom, went for a run, and then apparently passed out on the couch for five hours.

Fix this. In any other circumstance, Remus would have spent at least an hour fretting over every tiny detail. But this was Sirius. This was about owning the fact that he was happiest with Sirius and that he had unintentionally hurt him by trying to create distance that they didn’t actually need.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was a moment of silence, then a sleepy voice. “Re?”

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was dark as he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Sudden nervousness washed through him. “I’m sorry.”

There was a rustle as Sirius sat up. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought—” His mouth was so dry. “It’s so stupid.”

“Please tell me.”

“I thought we needed space. I didn’t want space, you didn’t want space, but I was afraid we were moving too fast and that we’d suddenly wake up one morning and hate each other. That everything would crumble because we rushed into everything.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“After day three, yeah. And then I was just worried. You seemed really unhappy and I didn’t know why.” Sirius paused. “Um, I called your mom.”

“What? When?”

“Friday morning. That was what, day…four? I heard you crying downstairs and I was afraid someone had died or something.” His voice wobbled. “She was worried, too, but she said you might just need to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Can I…?”

“C’mere.” Sirius reached over and lifted the edge of the covers up on Remus’ side—as far as he could tell, they had been left tucked in the whole time. “I love you,” he murmured as Remus curled up.

“I love you so much.” He carefully reached out and brushed their hands together, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. “So much, you have no idea. That was the worst week.”

Sirius’ heartbeat was steady as Remus kissed the top of his head and melted into his warmth. “I capped the toothpaste in the bathroom.”

When Remus laughed, it was a little teary. “I say this with all the love in the world, Sirius, but I couldn’t care less about the goddamn toothpaste. I care about you.”

His hold tightened and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. I know, it said. I’ve got you. I love you. You can stay.

Chapter 5: Delicate Balance

Summary:

Remus' temper gets the better of him

TW for hockey fights, name-calling, mild injury, couples' argument

Chapter Text

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

Chapter 6: Outing

Summary:

The airport scene from Talker's perspective

TW homophobia, forced outing

Chapter Text

Talker was just about to pull out his deck of cards while they waited when his phone began to buzz, and it didn’t stop. “Whoa,” Finn said to his right.

Cap went still. Not just still, but absolutely rigid, like a statue. He was staring vacantly at his phone screen without blinking—Talker wasn’t even sure he was breathing. His hands, steadier than anyone’s on a stick, were shaking. He fumbled for his own phone, swiping past the screen full of notifications and opening Twitter.

#SiriusBlackGay

#notmycaptain

#CaptainBottom

Next to him, Remus clutched at his throat, alabaster-pale with utter horror. The pictures…the pictures made him sick. Who would do this? he wondered as Remus swayed to the side and had to grab a barrier for support. Sirius was completely shut down. For the first time, Talker was speechless.

This was beyond invasive; it was wrong. It was cruel. Someone did this with no intention but to harm his friends, and that thought made Talker dizzy. “Sirius,” Pascal murmured, reaching out. Sirius jolted out of his daze, stepped back, and walked out.

Remus made a strangled noise as Pots came over and began asking him soft questions. Talker wasn’t sure Remus was registering anything at the moment if his wheezing breaths were anything to go by. The tears on his cheeks glimmered in the harsh airport light as Pots wrapped a firm arm around him and led him out, and then team was silent.

Talker’s mouth was dry as he turned to face the rest of them. “If any of you have a problem with Loops and Cap, we’re done. They need our support right now and if you’re homophobic—”

“Thomas,” Leo said quietly, his voice shaking. Wordlessly, he tugged his sleeve up to reveal a rainbow bracelet.

“Does anybody have a problem with this?” Pascal asked.

“Aside from the part where our friends just got outed and didn’t feel like they could tell us about their relationship?” Finn scrubbed a hand over his face and sniffled. “No.”

“Loops—” Talker faltered. “Pots is going to head to Cap’s house soon, and I don’t think Remus should be alone. I’m gonna bring over a…a something, fuck, I don’t know.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Whatever happens, we have to let them know we have their backs, and we have to shut down anyone who says otherwise.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the team. Across the airport, Talker saw strangers staring down at their phones in shock. You have no idea, he thought. None at all. “He left him,” Logan said, sounding hollow. “Cap, he—he just left Remus. Why would he do that?”

Finn reached for him, but he tensed and leaned away. Talker didn’t know what the situation was with them, but he figured it was better not to ask right now. “Sometimes we do thoughtless things when we’re afraid, mon fils,” Pascal said quietly. “Thomas is right. The best we can do is be there for them both.”

Kasey’s ringtone was startling in the heavy silence and he answered it immediately. “Nat. I know—I know, I saw. We’re still at the airport.” He paused, and Talker could hear Natalie’s voice faintly in the background. “Pots drove Remus home and Cap left. Yeah. Yeah, a couple of us were going to head over soon.”

Talker’s phone vibrated in his hand. Thomas, check Twitter, his sister texted. Call me asap.

“People are horrible,” Finn whispered as he scrolled through his timeline. “The things they’re saying—we can’t let them see this. Cap and Loops, they shouldn’t see this.”

“They already have,” Nado muttered. “Whoever took these pictures is about to get the ass kicking of a lifetime.”

Leo shook his head. “It’s an anonymous source.”

“Nobody stays anonymous forever online.”

“Guys,” Talker interrupted. “We’re public figures. We have our own accounts. Hype Squad?”

He couldn’t even remember who had come up with the Hype Squad in the first place, but it was one of his favorite Lions traditions. Whenever someone was having a bad day or was on the bench recovering from an injury, the rest of the team took to social media and hyped them up with positive posts. Now, they needed it more than ever.

Everyone scrambled for their phones and started typing—within a minute, his notifications went wild with posts in defense of Sirius and Remus. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

240 characters is not enough to say everything, he began. but it is enough to say this: Sirius Black is the best captain in the NHL and the best man I’ve ever met. Remus Lupin is an incredible person and one of my closest friends. Cap, Loops, we’re all here for you. #forevermycaptain

Chapter 7: Twilight Zone

Summary:

Logan has a nightmare

Chapter Text

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he is alone. Once upon a time, this would not have been unusual, but for the past five months—six? Seven? Leo always teases me for forgetting our anniversary—he has greeted the morning with two warm bodies next to him, their steady breaths easing his mind.

Logan is…cold, this time. He hates being cold. “Peanut?” he calls when he hears sounds from outside the bedroom. “Finn?”

The rustling doesn’t stop; nobody responds. He frowns and clambers out of bed, stretching his back and reaching for one of the many, many hoodies that usually lay crumpled on the chair in their room. Logan stops dead in his tracks when he sees only two there, and both are his own. Panic spikes in his chest. “Mes amours? Where are you?”

“I told you not to wake him up,” Finn whispers harshly. Logan frowns and walks out, nearly tripping over the multitude of cardboard boxes lining the hall. His boys are in the living room, packing the blanket Leo’s mother made for them for Christmas.

“What’s going on?” Logan asks warily as he steps over a box labeled ‘clothes—Finn’. “Why are you packing our things?”

“We’re leaving,” Finn says. His voice is devoid of emotion and he looks at Logan with utter contempt. He feels as if he has been doused in ice water and then set aflame.

“What?” He glances at Leo, who shuffles awkwardly. “Where are we going?”

“Not you.” Leo looks up at him, and his beautiful blue eyes are like chips of ice. “Just us.”

Logan is drowning, he’s sure of it. He is suffocating on the dark cloud of fear and agony that billows from the place his lungs used to be. “No.”

“Yes.” Finn rips a piece of packing tape off the roll and Logan flinches.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

Logan’s legs give out and he sits down hard on the floor, barely registering the flash of pain. “But—”

“No.” Finn’s face is twisted and furious all of a sudden, and Logan is almost grateful—at least there is something left of the passionate, bleeding-heart boy that he loves with everything in his fucking body instead of that mask from before. “No, Logan, you don’t get to keep us here. I don’t love you.”

“But you do.” His voice is feeble even to his own ears. “You said it when you kissed me goodnight. Peanut-“

“Don’t call me that,” Leo says quietly. Logan’s heart snaps in half.

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. An explanation, maybe, or just for them to stay. “Please.”

“This is your fault,” Finn continues as he opens a new box. “If you had just talked about your feelings, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Logan chokes out as the first tears start to fall. “You hate being told what to do.”

“You don’t know me—”

“I do know you!” Logan shouts. It rings throughout the apartment, along with his ragged breaths. “I know you better than anyone. You’re Finn O’Hara, Harzy, my best friend, my Finn—”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Leo, please tell me what’s going on.” Logan turns to Leo and sees almost nothing on his face. For the first time he can remember, that shining sunlight is dim.

“Finn doesn’t love you. I’m going with him.”

Why?

“Because I can’t stand being around you.” Exasperation laces Leo’s tone, as if he’s speaking to a child. “The only reason I was with you is because Finn was there.”

Some horrible, strangled noise rips out of Logan’s throat and he covers his mouth with his hands. This is what dying feels like, he thinks. This is it. “Don’t do this,” he pleads, little more than a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Finn opens his mouth, looking straight at him with those hard brown eyes, and Logan knows what he’s about to say. “Good—”

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he’s not alone. A cut-off shout escapes him as he scrambles out of the blankets that threaten to drag him back under and his foot connects with something warm that grunts, reaching out toward him. “No!”

The floor is unforgiving as he falls onto it and shoves himself back against the wall, shaking from head to toe as the beginnings of a scream accompany every shallow breath. “Logan?”

A sob, clogged and gross, tears from his throat and he puts his forehead on his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers.

“Holy fuck, Lo. Leo, wake up.” More shuffling sounds come from the bed and a sleepy voice murmurs something, confused. “Leo, wake up.”

Two gentle hands rest on his shoulders and Logan thrashes away. “Get off me!”

“Hey, shhhh, it’s me.” The voice is terrified, he can tell. But it is so achingly soft. “Lo baby, it’s just me.”

“F—F—” He can’t even get the name out as more tears pour down his face. Someone slides off the bed and kneels next to him, a dark shadow.

“It’s me,” Finn says again, running his hands down Logan’s arms. “It’s your Finn. Leo’s here, too.”

Oh my god I’m so sorry.” He balls up tighter, digging his fingers into his thighs. “I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Leo murmurs, still accented from sleep. Logan makes a noise like a wounded animal and a third hand comes to brush the sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

“You’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats, voice cracking with grief. “You’re leaving and I’m sorry.”

“We’re not leaving,” Finn says. A solid weight presses against the length of his side and an arm comes to rest over his back. “See? We’re both right here for you. You had a nightmare, baby.”

Logan only sobs harder; in his mind’s eye, Finn is still glaring at him with that stonelike distaste as Leo watches him weep with no reaction. “Can you tell us what it was about?” Leo’s hands are broad and warm on the sides of his legs, even through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“You—you don’t—” Logan takes a few gulping breaths. “You don’t love me anymore.”

There is a small, punched-out exhale from Leo and a shuddering gasp from Finn. “That’s not true.” Finn sounds like he’s crying. “That is not true, Logan.”

He shakes his head. “You said it so many times. So many.”

“Look at me, Lo,” Leo says, smoothing Logan’s hair back. “Please look at me.”

Come on, Tremblay, you can do it. He sniffles and raises his head just enough to see over his knees; Leo’s got heartbreak written all over his face as he carefully wipes Logan’s cheeks dry with the heels of his hands. Logan can’t bear to look at Finn right now. His chest still hurts too much. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Leo promises. Even in the low light of the streetlamps through their window, he glows. “I love you too much to do that. It was just a nightmare, okay? None of that was real.”

A shiver rolls through Logan again and Finn’s arm tightens around him. “It felt real, and it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo kisses his forehead. “You’re cold. Do you want to go back to bed?”

A slender hand comes into Logan’s periphery and touches Leo on the arm, light as a feather. “Logan, please look at me,” Finn says. Logan squeezes his eyes shut. I can’t. “Please.”

“I asked you to stay.” His voice is broken glass, each word tearing his throat. “I asked you to stay and you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love me. You hated me.”

“Logan, please.” Finn sounds miserable and Logan can hear the tears in his voice as he finally turns. His eyes are so bright, so wide, so Finn as two small rivers form on his cheeks. Bambi, he thinks. “I love you so much, Logan. I would never, ever say that to you.”

Logan’s lower lip wobbles and he leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, prying one hand off his leg to pull Leo close as well. “I know. I know. It wasn’t you.”

That is one thing he is sure of, one thing he would swear in front of God and every angel. Those cold caricatures in his nightmare were wrong on a deep, deep level—Leo radiates kindness. Finn looks at him with nothing but love. Their other selves were the exact opposite of everything Logan adores about his boys.

“Are you going to be alright?” Leo asks as he places a light kiss to Logan’s temple. “We don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Okay.” None of them make an effort to stand.

He knows Finn and Leo are having a silent conversation and nuzzles against Finn’s warm collarbone, pulling Leo’s arm up to kiss his wrist. “Can I be in the middle?”

That draws a light laugh from both of them. “Yeah, Lo, you can be in the middle,” Finn says, getting to his feet on wobbly legs and hauling them both up with him. They collapse into bed again, dragging the covers up to their shoulders.

“I feel like a panini,” Logan mutters as they squish him between their chests. There is a moment of silence before they break down laughing and a series of kisses find their homes on his face and back; he wraps an arm around Finn’s chest and presses into Leo’s steady warmth. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

“Love you, baby.” Finn shifts closer and sighs against him. “And that will never change.”

Chapter 8: Self-Care

Summary:

Finn's worst habit

TW for overworking/ unhealthy exercise

Chapter Text

Finn had a few bad habits. He left dirty dishes in the sink, could never remember which setting the laundry was supposed to go on, and barely wiped his shoes on the doormat before entering the house. He wasn’t proud of his flaws, but he acknowledged that everyone had some—as long as they didn’t hurt anybody, it wasn’t the end of the world.

This one…this one was different. Even Finn knew that.

He gritted his teeth for the next set of squats, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the climbing nausea in his gut. The chart only said to do three reps, but he had been beating himself up for slacking a set earlier in the week and decided to do five to make up for it.

That, it seemed, was a poor decision.

His thighs were shaking when he finally put the weight down and he leaned on the wall to stabilize himself. “Fish? You okay?” Logan asked from the yoga mat to his right, staring up at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Finn lied. “Just straightened up too fast.”

“D’accord.” He could feel Logan’s eyes on his back as he left the gym and headed toward the showers.

Finn’s worst habit was taking care of himself, and it wasn’t something that could be explained away as “oh, silly Harzy” like the washing machine. He made a mental note to take some ibuprofen before driving home so he would be marginally less sore in the morning, but he had the sinking feeling it would be a rough practice the next day.

Remus and Talker were playing some sort of volleyball with an old balloon between their stalls when he entered; he missed getting nailed in the head by a narrow margin and waved off their apologies with a forced smile.

A hand closed around his bicep as he passed, snapping him back to reality as Leo’s bright eyes came into focus. “Hey, lovey, is Lo with you?”

“He’s finishing up.”

A small furrow appeared between Leo’s brows. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” Finn faked a yawn and stretched his arm over Leo’s shoulder, dragging him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Cap’s workout just kicked my ass today.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes playfully as he passed. “You’re not a rookie anymore, O’Hara.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Logan entered the locker room a few minutes later; Finn closed his eyes and breathed in the thick steam of the shower until the fog in his head cleared a bit and he couldn’t feel the skin on his shoulders. It billowed off him as he dressed again and tossed the keys to Leo, who raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You. There’s a little bit of slush left, and you still need to learn how to drive in it.” And I feel like I’m going to pass out at any minute. He swallowed down the last thought and pasted a teasing grin on his face—what Leo and Logan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It was his own fault for being lazy in the past.


What Leo and Logan didn’t know apparently did hurt them. In hindsight, Finn should have seen that coming before he passed out in the middle of a scrimmage.

The lights of the coach’s office made his headache even worse. “Care to explain?” Arthur asked in a voice like frost. To his left, Sirius was glowering.

“I already told Hestia—”

“Yeah, I know what you told Hestia,” Arthur interrupted. “I want to hear it directly from you.”

Finn sighed through his nose and picked at a stray thread on his jersey. “I…I pushed myself a little too hard at yesterday’s practice and didn’t say anything when I started feeling bad.”

“Why.” Sirius’ eyes were hard as flint.

“Because I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass! I can handle some aching muscles, it’s not a big deal!”

“Not a—”

Arthur put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “That’s enough, Black. O’Hara, I want you to look me in the eyes.” Finn raised his head. “This was a dumbass mistake and all of us expected better from you. Your safety and health come before any workout routine, and it is your responsibility to speak up before you scare the shit out of us by dropping like a rock.”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Apology accepted. I also want you to call Heather when you get home and schedule an appointment with her.” Some of Arthur’s frustration melted into genuine concern and guilt crawled up Finn’s throat. “Doing that to yourself isn’t healthy, Finn. You’re a good man, smart, and I know you know better.”

“Can we talk for a second?” Sirius asked quietly, glancing at Arthur. He nodded and left the room.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Finn?” Sirius ran a hand down his face, suddenly pale. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was stupid.”

“Yeah, no, I got that part.”

“I slacked off a set on Monday.”

“Wow, nobody’s ever done that before,” he said sarcastically, sitting down in the chair by the wall as Finn resumed messing with his hem. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m upset that you thought you had to do that at all.”

Tears prickled the backs of Finn’s eyes. “I know.”

“I’m sure as hell not your coach or your dad, but I’m going to say this as your friend, okay?” Sirius leaned over into Finn’s field of view. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. This team wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t be the same without you. We need you to take care of yourself, Harzy.”

Finn nodded silently and Sirius gave his hand a quick squeeze, which he returned. “Does everyone know?”

“I told them you were under the weather, nothing more.”

“Classic media answer.” He tried and failed to crack a smile. “Thanks for not telling on me.”

“That’s not my job. My job is herding cats on ice skates for five hours a day.”

Finn’s smile was real that time and he managed a light laugh as he swiped away the dampness on his cheeks. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius helped him stand up and hugged him tight for a second before letting go. “Speaking as someone who used to do the exact same thing, talking to Heather makes a world of difference.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

The cold feeling returned to Finn’s gut when they stepped out of the office; Leo and Logan were waiting by the opposite wall, looking angrier than Finn had ever seen. Sirius patted his shoulder once before walking off down the hallway toward the locker room, where he would no doubt deflect even more questions.

“Hey,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. Logan continued to stare at the ground.

“You lied to us,” Leo said bluntly. “Several times. Both of us asked if you were alright and you told us you were fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but I don’t understand.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Finn, this isn’t how we deal with things. We agreed to be a team.”

Finn bit his lip. I fucked this one up. “We did. I am so sorry for scaring you—”

“We’re not mad that you scared us,” Logan snapped, still looking anywhere but his face. “We’re upset that you refuse to take care of yourself and then lied to us about it.”

Leo nudged Logan’s shoulder before turning back. “Why did you do that, Finn?”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. I was just trying to make up for the set I skipped on Monday.”

“What? Twenty squats and some pushups? That’s not worth your health, honey.” The pet name soothed the terror clutching Finn’s heart and he took a deep breath. They still loved him. This wasn’t the end.

“It was a stupid thing to do and it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Let’s go home.” Logan grabbed his duffel bag off the ground and started walking toward the door; Leo looked like he was going to say something, but Finn gently took his elbow.

“He’s going to need a minute,” he said under his breath. Logan was a hothead about many things, but lying was in the top three. Finn knew he hurt him deep.

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and pressed his lips together as they followed Logan into the parking lot. “Did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

Finn shook his head. “No. This was all on me.”

“It’s just that I know I’m younger than both of you and I’m new to the hockey lifestyle, but I never want you to think you can’t trust me—”

“Leo.” Finn stopped walking and tugged on Leo’s hand, turning him around. Worry was painted all over his face and it sliced to Finn’s core. “I trust you and Logan with everything, but I got into my head about this and I wasn’t thinking about how it would hurt you. Please believe that.”

Leo sighed. “I do. I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I, to be honest.” Logan was already sitting in the car with his headphones on as they crossed the lot. “It’s going to take him a while to talk to me, isn’t it?”

“He was really upset.”

“We’ll figure this out.” He tightened his grip on Leo’s hand. “We’ve made it through worse.”


The apartment crackled with tension until Finn literally had to stick his head out the open window to get a breath of fresh air. Waves of frustration and hurt rolled off Logan, though he still refused to look Finn in the eyes.

After dinner, Leo slid into the armchair before Logan could get there, leaving only the couch available. They carefully sat on opposite sides—Finn stole glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye for the entire first half of the movie. Ninety minutes of action later, he felt something chilly poking at his calf.

Logan kept his gaze trained on the TV as he scooted his freezing toes under Finn’s legs. Relief flooded Finn’s veins; he felt a little like crying, but instead schooled his expression into a small smile and rested his hand on Logan’s ankle, where it stayed until the movie ended.

Leo had fallen asleep by that time, splayed out sideways on the cushion with his face smushed against the armrest. “Il est mignon,” Logan said softly. There was a beat of silence and he looked over at Finn. “He’s cute.”

“He is.” Finn cleared his throat and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lo. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

Finn had a few bad habits, but backing out on his promises would never be one of them.

Chapter 9: Seamless

Summary:

Remus is insecure about his stretch marks

TW for body insecurity

Chapter Text

So Sirius’ heart was breaking a little bit.

That was fine. Everything was fine. It was just that his fiancé didn’t love him anymore.

Okay, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t like he was lacking in time to overthink things over the past week and a half. It had been nine days and about six hours since he was last allowed to hug Remus without him shying away with a stumbling excuse, and even longer since Remus had changed clothes outside of their bathroom after locking the door behind him.

Speaking of, he hadn’t worn anything other than jeans with his too-big shirts tucked in, which seemed like a pretty terrible idea in the dead of summer. He looked cute as hell—of course he did, it was Remus—but Sirius had noticed the almost-constant red flush on his face. He hadn’t had a chance to see those glorious freckles, either, which was a true tragedy.

So, yeah, Sirius’ heart was breaking. More than a little bit, actually.

“Are you okay?” he asked while they laid in bed together, ankles intertwined. Remus had been so, so careful not to get too close during the night and it was driving Sirius a bit out of his mind. Even Pots had noticed, pulling him in for a tight hug because “you looked like you needed it”. Damn him and his observation skills, Sirius thought.

Remus sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you too hot?” Sirius ventured. It was summertime, after all, and Remus was terrible about regulating his temperature.

“No, I’m good.”

“Do I smell weird?”

Remus rolled onto his side. “What?”

“I mean—” Sirius sniffed his arm. It seemed normal to him. “Do I smell weird to you?”

“…no?”

“Because I run warm, so if I was sweating all over you—”

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked, looking honestly bewildered.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “It’s just…you haven’t been cuddling me recently. Or hugging me. Or letting me touch you at all, actually. And—and I was worried that I upset you.”

“Oh.” Remus’ voice was soft, and his eyes went huge and sad, like melty caramel. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything.”

“Okay.” Sirius wasn’t quite sure he believed him. “Um, while we’re on the subject: when did you start wearing shirts to bed? And flannel pajamas in July?”

Remus’ ears turned vibrant pink and he cleared his throat, glancing away. It wasn’t the cute, sexy blush, either—he looked downright humiliated. “It’s nothing, I was just a little cold,” he muttered at last, turning back over and tucking his chin down.

After a second’s hesitation, Sirius trailed his hand down the bumps of his spine; he was still all angles despite the many pounds of corded muscle he had put on over the summer training sessions. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah.” He sounded a little choked up and Sirius’ worry worsened.

“What’s going on, Re?” he asked, still running his fingers over the broad expanse of his back. Remus mumbled something. “Can you say that again?”

There was a puff of air. “I don’t want you to see them.”

“See what?”

The side of Remus’ jaw in Sirius’ eyeline ticked. “I didn’t know it would happen.”

“You lost me, sweetheart.”

Remus settled onto his back, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. He chewed his lip for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Fuck it.”

He sat up and tugged his shirt over his head, then shimmied his pants down his thighs. He was still wearing underwear, which was a little weird in Sirius’ mind. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared holes into the opposite wall as Sirius scanned him for any injuries, bandages, or surprise tattoos. “…I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t—” Remus broke off and closed his eyes. “Please don’t sugarcoat it.”

Sirius sat up as well, still searching for what in the goddamn hell his fiancé was talking about. “Re, I genuinely have no idea what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

“Here.” Remus pointed behind his shoulder blades. “And here.” He moved his arms to show his hip and waist. “And here.” It took a moment, but he stretched his leg out so his inner thigh was exposed.

Sirius tore his eyes away from the smattering of freckles all over him—fuck yeah, finally—and followed the lines in shades of pink, lavender, and reddish brown that shone in the moonlight through their windows. “So you’re upset about your stretch marks?”

Remus nodded miserably. “I didn’t realize they’d be this bad.”

“Did you—” Sirius made a timeout motion with his hands. “Re, did you think I wouldn’t want to cuddle you because of these?”

His mouth twisted and he wrapped his arms around his waist again. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that. Sorry.”

Sweetheart.” Sirius scooted closer and pressed their shoulders together; almost instantly, Remus leaned into him. “Everybody on the team has stretch marks. I have stretch marks. That’s what happens when there’s a lot of muscle gain.”

“They’re not as bad as mine, though.”

Sirius tugged the edge of his shorts up to show his inner thigh, where light silver lines still crisscrossed his skin. “They fade over time, but I’ve had these since I was nineteen.”

“Yours look pretty.”

“So do yours.”

Remus’ hold on himself tightened, and his fingers twitched down to trace the wobbly edges of the marks. “I knew you wouldn’t be upset, but…but I’m already kind of wonky-looking and I thought this would just make it worse, and I have been trying so hard to catch up that this happened and it’s just—it fucking sucks, Sirius. I’m itchy and stretchy and they’re permanent.”

“Can I touch you?” As soon as Remus nodded, Sirius hauled him into his lap and hugged him tight. “I don’t know who told you that you’re wonky-looking, but it’s not true. You are the handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life and those stretch marks just show how strong you are now. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you know they’re as beautiful as the rest of you.”

Remus was quiet for a moment. “You always say I’m pretty, but I don’t feel pretty. It’s like piling more scars on. Nobody looks at scars and goes ‘oh, yeah, that’s sexy’.”

“I do.”

“You look at my freckles and think they’re sexy.”

“I look at you and I think you’re sexy,” Sirius said firmly into the back of his shoulder, planting a kiss to the side of his neck. “And for the record, I’ve always thought your scars are hot as fuck.”

That drew a laugh from him. “Thanks, love.”

“Can we cuddle now? And will you stop wearing jeans when it’s ninety degrees outside?”

In lieu of a response, Remus pushed him back down onto the bed and wrapped all four limbs around him with a contented hum. “I missed this the most,” he said into the side of Sirius’ chest.

“Me, too,” Sirius murmured back, kissing his head and snuggling closer despite the heat. Under his palms, the stretch marks formed all kinds of patterns, and he decided to map every single one with his fingertips. Remus fell asleep after three; Sirius dozed off halfway through the sixth.

Chapter 10: Married Life

Summary:

Coops' first fight as a married couple

Chapter Text

“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.

Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”

“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.

“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.

Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”

What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?

“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”

“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”

“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”

Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”

“People can love each other and still break up!”

Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”

“We need to talk.”

“We need to sleep.”

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.

Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”

Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.


Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.

“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.

“Loops—”

“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m not trying to be mean—”

“Well, you kind of were—”

“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”

“Do you think we moved too fast?”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”

Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”

He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”

Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”

“I literally sleep next to you!”

“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”

Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”

Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”

“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”

“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”

“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”

“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”

Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”

Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”

“I don’t regret marrying you!

“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”

“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”

“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”

“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.

“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”

Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.

It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”

He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—

“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”

Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Re, are you okay?”

“Not really. Can you pick me up?”

Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At home.”

“…where’s Sirius?”

“At Dumo’s.”

“I’m on my way.”


Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.

“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.

“Don’t.”

“It was awful.”

“I bet.”

Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”

“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”

Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”

“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”

“Is that what you and James did?”

“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”

Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”

Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”

“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”

There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Remus snorted. “Simp.”

“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”

“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.

“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.

“Maybe!”

Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”

“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”

“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”

“That might be a while.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“Could be.”

“Remus.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”

“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.


“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.

The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”

“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”

“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”

“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”

“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”

Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”

She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”

Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.


By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.

He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”

“Who’s there?”

Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”

“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.

“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”

Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”

“Did you go see them?”

“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”

“Re—”

“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”

“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”

“I thought it might be too late.”

“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”

Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”

“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”

“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”


Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.

The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.

Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”

“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”

“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”

“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.

Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”

I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”

“Deal.”

Chapter 11: Speckle

Summary:

Regulus is insecure about his acne

Chapter Text

Regulus’ phone pinged and his heart did its best to make an escape via his throat.

New Message From: Leo Knut

Are you on your way?

It was preceded by six other messages, most with the same general theme. Regulus shoved it back into his hoodie pocket and sank lower into the mattress, wincing as his cheek brushed the pillow. He had never thought acne would be painful, but it had been growing steadily worse over the past week and he could only reschedule plans so many times.

Message To: Leo Knut

Can’t make it

Sorry

See you tm?

Three dots appeared below, then disappeared. They lingered longer the second time.

Message From: Leo Knut

K

“Shit,” Regulus muttered, feeling guilt twist in his guts. He had been so ready to go that morning—it was just acne, after all—but one too-long glance in the mirror had sent everything crashing down. He couldn’t go outside looking like that. He just couldn’t. It was embarrassing, and painful, and he looked like a fourteen-year-old kid going through puberty all over again.

Someone knocked on the door. “Regulus? Are you awake?”

“Oui.”

The door opened a crack and Dumo poked his head in with a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Leo this morning?”

“I’m sick,” he lied. Dumo laid the back of his hand over Regulus’ forehead and squinted at him in the darkness with a hum. “I already let him know I wouldn’t be there.”

“You look fine to me,” Dumo said, clearly suspicious as he sat at the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Just stuff.”

“Just…stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Embarrassing stuff.”

Dumo raised his eyebrows. “Can we talk about it? You’ve been avoiding Leo for the past week, and from what I hear, he’s pretty bummed.”

“It’s stupid,” Regulus mumbled, turning on his side despite the sharp pain from the red spots on his face.

“It’s not,” Dumo said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Not if it makes you this upset.”

“How do I—” Regulus faltered, pressing his lips together. He took a deep breath. “How do I get rid of acne?”

The words came out in a rush; he didn’t expect Dumo to catch any of it, but he simply made a noise of understanding. “If you weren’t the most hygienic person that has ever lived in this house, I would suggest washing your face. It’s different from person to person, but all your brother had to do was outgrow it, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it was similar with you.”

“So I just have to sit here and wait?” Frustration bled into his voice and he scowled, holding the pillow tighter.

“You can still do the things you like, Regulus.”

“I look stupid.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s gross.”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know?” he snapped. The guilty feeling returned with a vengeance and he tucked his legs up closer to his body. “Sorry.”

“Everyone gets acne. You just have do decide what you’re going to do in the meantime.” There was a light nudge to the middle of his back. “I suggest putting a shirt and some real pants on, and then meeting up with your friend like you said you would, oui?”

Regulus sighed through his nose. “I guess. These are real pants, by the way.”

“Sweats don’t count. Allez, petit serpent, Leo is waiting.”

Regulus dragged himself out of bed and splashed some water on his face—rubbing soap onto his skin was way too painful at the moment—before changing into real-people clothes and sliding his shoes on.

Message To: Leo Knut

Change of plans

DQ?

He waited in silence for what felt like a lifetime before three dots popped up.

Message From: Leo Knut

See you in ten

A pause, and then a simple <3. Regulus smiled.


“So.” Leo licked a drip off the base of his cone and laid back against the windshield, letting his head loll to the side as he cocked an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“My face feels fucking awful, dude.” Regulus hummed around the spoonful of minty blizzard for a second. “Being a teenager is the worst thing ever.”

Leo snorted. “We’re not technically teenagers anymore.”

“Still.” He hesitated, then knocked their elbows together. “I’m really sorry, by the way.”

“For?” Leo avoided his gaze and went back to his ice cream.

Regulus chewed the inside of his lip before answering. “The last week of avoiding you. I didn’t want to go out looking like this, but that was such a shitty thing to do to you.”

“It was. Apology accepted.” Leo glanced over and flicked his bicep. “Of everyone you know, I’m literally the last person who would judge you for that. Other things, absolutely, but not acne.”

“I know,” Regulus said quietly.

“Next time that happens, will you at least tell me what’s going on?” His blue eyes turned sad. “I was worried something really bad happened.”

“It won’t happen again,” Regulus promised, and he meant it. They sat in silence on the hood of the car with their ice cream for a while, pointing out weird-shaped clouds with various hums of approval; he wondered how he ever thought staying away from his best friend would make things better. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna see a tiktok of a duck I saw the other day? Made me think of you.”

A smile flickered over Leo’s face, then came out full force as he scooted closer. “Of course I do.”

Chapter 12: Fight Night

Summary:

Remus vs. homophobic players

TW for injury, mentioned slurs (none written out/ not explicit)

Chapter Text

They were still muttering behind him, laughing about some inside joke that was almost certainly at his expense. Just keep swimming, he thought as the refs reviewed a call.

“—not about to pussy out,” one of the guys snorted. “What, you think I can’t beat him?”

Remus ground his teeth.

Not two seconds later, something prodded the back of his shoulder. He ignored it. Not worth the penalty. A second poke nearly made him veer off course.

“Can I help you?” Remus asked as he finally turned. His annoyance bled into every word, but the two idiots only grinned. They were enforcers; big guys like Kuny, except without the kindness or intelligence in their eyes.

“How much did you have to pay to get your spot on this team?” one of them taunted, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry. How much did your boyfriend have to pay?”

“Less than your dad paid me last night,” he deadpanned. The refs would be done soon, and then he could find an excuse to drop the gloves. Deep breaths, his dad would say.

His mother would tell him to knock ‘em dead.

“Hey.” The next push was even harder; the bigger man’s voice was angry, now. Remus smiled to himself. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“Who are you, my mother?” he snorted, though he turned again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn nudge Talker with his elbow.

“I bet she’s real proud of you for sleeping your way to the top.”

“She is, actually.”

A gleam lit in his watery blue eyes, as if he had won something. “So you admit it?”

“What, that my mom’s proud of me and you’re an asshole? It’s not like it’s a secret.”

The shorter man—who had a good three inches on Remus but wasn’t nearly as fast—sneered. “My friend here bet me ten bucks you’d fight.”

“Ten bucks?” Remus widened his eyes. “Wow! You could buy yourself an ice cream with that! Good for you, buddy!”

Mauve colored his cheeks and tree-trunk neck as he skated right into Remus’ personal space. “I’m willing to lose that bet if it means knocking that smug look off your face,” he snarled.

Remus rolled his eyes and started heading back to his team. The review was clearly almost done. It was time to get his head off the schoolyard and into the game. “In your dreams, asshole.”

“Run along back home, you—“

The slur hung in the air like a swarm of bees. Remus stopped cold. Everyone within earshot went still.

Remus sighed, and slowly turned to face them again. “I really wish you didn’t just say that.”

A vicious glimmer crossed the shorter man’s beady eyes. “And what—“

The sickening snap of his nose beneath Remus’ knuckles and the ensuing shriek harmonized beautifully with the pulse pounding in his ears. Blood dripped through thick fingers. “Call me that again,” Remus said calmly, skating toward him despite the anger snarling inside his chest. “Do it.”

The taller man stepped in front of him. “Look, dude—“

“You wanted a fight, didn’t you?” Remus shoved him in the chest. “Ten bucks to get a rise out of the rookie? Your friend called me a slur and got exactly what he deserved for it, so either fight me like you wanted or stay the fuck out of my way.”

Talker’s hand was solid on his shoulder. “Loops—“

“What’s it gonna be?” Remus asked, making unblinking eye contact with the enforcer.

There was a pause, then a shake of the head. “You’re fuckin’ crazy, Lupin. Should’ve stayed on the bench where you belong.”

“Call me another slur and I’ll show you exactly where I belong, you second-rate coward. Now pull your head out of your ass and play the game with some dignity. Enjoy your ten bucks.”

Finn whistled lowly as he rejoined the group; Talker was still holding his shoulder, like he was afraid Remus was going to do something stupid. That was probably for the best. One of the refs raised a brow and blew his whistle. “Number six, two minutes for fighting. Number 14, five minutes for discrimination.”

What?” The shorter enforcer spluttered around the fresh gauze in his hand. “He broke my fuckin’ nose!”

“Welcome to hockey,” the ref said drily. “Next time, read the rules about offensive language.”

“He played the gay card!”

Remus rounded on him, blood boiling. “I played the ‘get the fuck out of my face and don’t call me a slur’, you—“

“Okay,” James interrupted, skating between them with a palm on Remus’ chest. He lowered his voice, eyes softening in concern. “Two minutes is more than enough, yeah? We need you out here. You can kick his ass once you’re both out of the box.”

Remus clenched his jaw so hard his mouthguard squeaked, but he nodded and headed toward the box after a short pause. He already achieved his goal; those two minutes would be a goddamn victory lap.

Sirius’ proud smile and light shoulder check as he passed wasn’t half-bad, either.

Chapter 13: Life in Color

Summary:

Sirius' interview post-disownment

Chapter Text

The studio cameras hadn’t seemed scary in a long, long time. Sirius stared at the white floor, toying with his ring and trying not to run screaming from the building; this is for them, he reminded himself. For everyone like me who never had someone speak up for them. The metal folding chair was cold under him.

“Sirius?” There was no hint of teasing in Marlene’s voice. “Are you ready?”

He had already saved himself and Regulus. Now it was time for the rest of them. “Oui.”

“Rolling in three, two, one…”

“My name is Sirius Black,” he said, channeling all the strength and control he could manage into his voice as he straightened up. “I’m 27 years old, the center and captain for the Gryffindor Lions hockey team, and a Stanley Cup champion.” He took a breath. “And I grew up in an abusive home. Last week, my biological parents officially disowned me for refusing to go back into the closet and under their control. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no media present. There was a lot of paperwork.

“But I’m not here to talk about that.” He swallowed, and felt some of his confidence return. Behind the camera, Marlene gave him an encouraging look with a shine in her eyes. “I’m here to talk to everyone else in my situation and let you know that you’re not alone. You can get out of there, and you can be the freest version of yourself. For the next month, 1/12 of all proceeds from Lions tickets will go to charities supporting abuse survivors and those currently living in abusive situations. My story is not the only one. We can make a difference.”


Sirius laid on his back on the lobby couch, letting “Radio Gaga” thump in his ears and drown out the tremors in his body. He had never said it publicly before—as far as the rest of the hockey world knew, his family was only rumored to be strict. He had been hesitant to do the video at first despite the tsunami of questions flooding their social media, and it wasn’t until Marlene suggested the charity aspect that he agreed.

Sirius didn’t like press. He liked it even less when it was poking around in his past, and when he had to support it.

The song ended and he paused the music, listening to his own breathing and steady pulse. You’re okay. You’re done. You made it through. He didn’t feel okay.

“—proud of him,” someone was saying inside the studio. Remus. “It was a complicated and painful thing to work through, but he never wavered from what he wanted and what was best for him.”

Six of his other teammates would speak, supporting the charity with a quick mention of their own feelings in case any assholes on the internet got bright ideas about speaking for them and their feelings on Sirius’ disownment. It was insane what people thought they found by digging through interviews.

“Hey, baby.” Sirius opened his eyes; above him, Remus was leaning over the armrest of the couch with a tired smile. He kissed Sirius’ forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Ready to go home?”

“Don’t we have to stay until the end?”

“Marlene said she had everything she needed from us.”

Sirius blew out a slow breath and stood, wrapping his arms around Remus on instinct. “This feels like it’s going to go badly.”

“I don’t think it will,” Remus said quietly, rubbing up and down his spine. “I think it’s going to help a lot of people, and I hope it means we stop getting nosy comments now that you’ve answered the big questions and made it clear that’s the end.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They walked to the car in relative silence, hand-in-hand; Remus took the keys without a word, and relief washed over Sirius in a cool breeze. He didn’t feel grounded enough to drive safely. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he ever would. The whole world was hazy outside the passenger window, blurring the city he loved so much into smudges of colors—Remus was a presence next to him, but what Sirius wanted more than anything was some hot chocolate and a long, long nap.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

Remus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he drove. “Do I need to pull over?”

“No, I just…” He sighed. “I thought I would feel better after getting this off my chest and helping people. I feel bad.”

“Can you eat?” He nodded. “I’ll make some soup when we get home if you want to lay down for a bit.”

Sirius’ eyes burned. “Sounds good.”

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Remus soothed, reaching one hand down to close around the one Sirius kept on his thigh as Sirius sniffled and shook with the effort of keeping in his tears. “It’s okay. You can call Marlene and ask her not to publish the video. That’s in your rights, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Sirius choked out, wiping his tears away with the back of his wrist. “It has to happen. People have to know that they can help. I—I just—I don’t know how to feel and so everything is happening at once.”

Nobody had taught Sirius how to handle Feelings-with-a-capital-f until Dumo; suddenly, he felt like all that hard work was being undone in one fell swoop. He kept ahold of Remus’ hand and let the tears slide down his cheeks as he breathed through it, keeping both feet firmly planted in some semblance of control. Remus parked the car and turned to him without unbuckling his seatbelt. “Do you want to go inside, or should we drive for a bit?”

“I really want to go to bed.”

“How can I help?” Remus laced their fingers together again and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “You really don’t seem alright, love.”

“I’m not, and I don’t know how to fix it.” The words were broken glass in his throat. “I was doing so good. I don’t know how to go back.”

“Oh, baby,” Remus murmured, taking his seatbelt off to kiss Sirius’ temple. “Let’s go inside, yeah? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Sirius nodded mutely, still pressing his lips together to stifle any sounds that tried to come out. It always seemed like when he started to cry, he couldn’t stop—whether that was a function of never crying for the majority of his life, he didn’t know, but it always felt horrible. No mistakes, his mother had told him. The video felt like a mistake. Still, he knew he couldn’t ask them to take it down. There were people that needed help, and he couldn’t let his childhood hide in the shadows anymore.

Remus turned as if to hug him when the door closed behind them, but Sirius slipped past and headed straight for the stairs. Sweatpants, hoodie, soup, blanket, talk. Talk, talk, talk until you can’t stop. Then sleep. He heard Remus moving around in the kitchen as he stripped down and dug his softest sweatpants out of the drawer, followed by Remus’ most worn-down and oversized Wisconsin hoodie that he always wore when he didn’t feel well. Sirius buried his nose in the neckline and inhaled deeply; the familiar scent soothed the rush of blood in his ears.

He didn’t bother with socks and made a beeline for the couch, wrapping himself in the afghan blanket one of Hope’s friends had crocheted for their wedding. Hope had kept it in the Lupin house so she wouldn’t forget to bring it with her, and it smelled like them, too. It smelled like safety and a happy house and healthy childhoods.

Another tear slipped out when Remus set down some water and the soup—Campbell’s chicken noodle, can’t go wrong—and Sirius curled up against the armrest to make room. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

The cushions dipped as Remus sat next to him and crossed his legs. “About what?”

“Everything.” His voice broke. “The way I grew up, everything about it. I—Re, I never lied to you, I promise. I just didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to scare you, but I have to be honest with you.”

“…alright.”

Sirius took a shaky breath; his mouth was dry, and salty at the edges. “My parents—my parents hit me when I wasn’t good enough, and nothing was ever good enough unless I could do it again, and again, and again—”

“Sirius—”

“—and I thought everyone on my team didn’t get dinner if they didn’t get a goal and—”

Stop—”

“—and Regulus and I, it was like we couldn’t breathe in that house with them scripting every move—”

Sirius.” Remus’ hand covered his mouth and Sirius closed his eyes as a sob ripped free, but didn’t fight it. “Sirius, stop, please.”

“I have to tell you,” he said hoarsely, trembling from head to toe. “I have to be honest with you.”

“I love you, and I’m glad you can talk to me, but I’m not the person you have to tell.” Remus’ voice was thick with tears. “Being honest with me doesn’t mean telling me every detail, please, please don’t do that.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes,” he blubbered, leaning into Remus. “What kind of fucking freak tells a child they can’t make mistakes?”

Remus shushed him softly, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he went boneless into Remus’ chest. He could feel the hitching breaths under his face and regret reared up, but he felt so empty. There was so much more he could tell Remus and nothing he could say. “I love you,” Remus began, sniffling slightly. “I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I love you, I’m going to tell you that I am not the person you need to tell all this to right now. You should talk to someone who knows how to help, like Heather.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.

“No, I understand.” A kiss pressed against the top of his head. “And I’m not upset at you. Both our emotions are running really high. I just—this isn’t blaming you or to make you feel bad, but it hurts to hear all the horrible things that happened to you. I already wish I could have stopped it before it happened, but hearing you say it is a lot worse than thinking about it and I wasn’t ready to hear everything.”

“That’s not everything.”

“I know.” Remus’ voice cracked. “I know, and that’s the worst part. This video was a bad idea, I should call—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Sirius caught his wrist as he reached for the phone. “The video isn’t the problem. It will help people. It’s just hard for me to talk about it without getting overwhelmed.”

Remus hesitated, but left the phone alone and hugged Sirius close again. “I’m here.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not gonna leave.” His chest rose and fell. “But—but if you need to tell me things, not just today, please give me fair warning first.”

“I will,” Sirius promised. They sat quietly for a moment before he sat up and pulled the soup bowl into his lap, letting the steam roll over his face. “Mon dieu, I was doing so good before this. It’s been the best two years and now…”

“Now it’s going to be better,” Remus filled in when he trailed off. A slender hand tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s going to be better, Sirius. For you, and for lots of other people that you’re helping. But this is the hard part.”

“This is the really, really hard part,” he agreed, taking a sip of broth. It was the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“It’s just soup.”

“No, for everything. Everything you’ve done for me.” he rested his head on Remus’ shoulder, then left a lingering kiss on his cheek. “I love you more than I can say.”

A wry smile tilted the side of Remus’ mouth up. “In English or French?”

“Both,” Sirius half-laughed. “Both, I promise. I’m going to finish this, and then can we take a nap?”

“That sounds perfect. Make sure to drink your water, too.”

It would not be an easy evening, or an easy night, or an easy anything when the video came out. But he would work through it, and he would remember what he had learned from his family and his friends to move past the roadblocks his childhood always created. He would call Regulus, they would cry together, and they would be okay. He would be okay.

Chapter 14: Money, Money, Money

Summary:

Remus is insecure about Coops' wealth gap

Chapter Text

Grocery shopping had never been Remus’ favorite thing in the world, but he had to admit it was a lot more fun when everything came with the thrilling reminder that he was living with the love of his life. He got to learn Sirius’ preferences on everything from candles (softer scents, or something woodsy) to towels (as fluffy as humanly possible) and filed every detail away in the little pocket of his brain entirely dedicated to the beautiful man that could reach the top shelves.

“What’s next?” he asked an hour into their latest Target excursion.

Sirius tilted his phone to show the screen. “Sheets.”

“I still can’t believe you had a hole in those and didn’t notice,” Remus said with a shake of his head.

“How do you know it wasn’t your fault?” Sirius countered with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“I’m not the one that runs marathons in my sleep,” Remus laughed, standing on his toes to kiss his stubbly cheek. “Oof. Prickly.”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “You like it.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” he mimicked, bumping Remus’ hip with his own. “What kind do you want?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder as they turned down the next aisle, scanning the shelves of plastic-wrapped packages in a million different patterns. “I like the look of the white ones, but grey or blue could be nice. You?”

“As long as they’re soft and have you in them, I don’t care.”

“Sap,” he teased, though he was unable to fight the blush racing hot up his neck. Sirius didn’t protest; his small, smug smile needed no explanation. Remus pushed the cart slowly down the aisle, making note of the price tags as he went. Sheets were always an expense—not as bad as blankets or, god forbid, a new mattress, but an expense all the same. He had managed to keep his last ones in good condition for almost ten years before they wore out.

The $30 set doesn’t look too bad, but that’s a weird color…Sirius hates microfiber…I’d rather not sleep on puppy print…getting laid on a 1970s paisley pattern would kill me instantly… “How about these?”

He startled and glanced down the aisle, where Sirius was holding a set in faint gray. An unbidden grin pulled at the side of his mouth. “The softest of the bunch, huh?”

“Of course,” Sirius laughed. “Come feel, it’s like heaven.”

Remus pushed off and hopped up on the undercarriage, riding the cart all the way until he reached Sirius’ side; his hand was halfway to the exposed block of fabric when he froze. $186.99, read the price tag below the stack of sheets in varying colors. Almost $200, and the only difference was the softness. “I…” he faltered slightly, looking between Sirius and the sheets for a moment.

“Do you not like them?”

“No, I do,” Remus said as his mind whirred. He had never spent more than a hundred dollars on sheets before. It wasn’t wildly out his budget, especially once he started working with the Lions, but he had always been careful with money. Sirius…Sirius had never had to do that. Never in his life.

“Is it the color? Because they have white ones—”

“It’s 200 dollars,” he almost laughed. Sirius fell quiet in obvious confusion as Remus turned to look at him. “Sirius, those sheets are 200 dollars.”

“Yes?”

“There’s—” Remus broke off again; something a little too much like shame for his liking crawled up his throat. “I—sure, yeah, if you like them.”

“It’s not about what Ilike,” Sirius continued, as if he couldn’t see the discomfort tensing every one of Remus’ muscles. “It’s our bed. I don’t want to get sheets you hate.”

“No, no, they’re nice.” Too nice. Remus forced a smile. “I like them.”

Sirius looked at him for a moment. “Which ones do you prefer?”

The ones that don’t cost the same as my monthly food budget. “Uh, the color threw me off at first,” he said. “The blue ones are better.”

The crease between Sirius’ brows eased by a degree and he kissed Remus’ jaw gently, then switched the sets. “D’accord, mon loup. Whatever makes you happy.”

Remus was as quiet as he could be without arousing suspicion for the rest of the trip. Sirius paid for their things—like always, Remus realized with a turn of his stomach—and helped him carry the bags to the car without another word about the sheets.

He stayed quiet the whole way home.

The shame mounted as they drove. It seemed everything was a sudden, unwelcome reminder of just how different he and Sirius were. Sirius’ family had a chef during his childhood—Remus made himself PB&Js every morning for the entirety of middle school. Sirius had a brand-new car—Remus had never had cause to justify that over public transportation and Uber. It was embarrassing, and Sirius’ unintentional thoughtlessness was more frustrating than he thought it would be.

He didn’t say anything as they pulled up to the house and unloaded their shopping bags; his shirt and jeans itched his skin like sandpaper. Judging from the look on Sirius’ face, he had picked up on Remus’ frustration, but there was no way Remus was going to get into the root of it while he still felt so twitchy.

Damn you and your emotional intelligence, he thought as he slipped past Sirius’ worried glances and up the stairs to their bedroom. Be oblivious for once and let me get through this.

The bed was stripped bare—their duvet and pillows sat in a heap on top of the mattress. Remus thought back to the first night he had slept there, marveling at the cloudlike support on his achy lower back. He had chalked it up to the pure bliss that came with finally having what he really wanted, but his traitorous brain was starting to convince him it wasn’t the joy that made it seem so nice.

He had never gone without food. His parents always made sure he had clothes that mostly fit and the school supplies he needed. They paid for his hockey gear and the team dues until he was old enough to work part-time and start saving his own money; scholarships had always been of a quiet importance in their house. Things got tighter when Jules was born, but they made it work. Remus would always be grateful for that.

Sirius had never had to think about money in that way. Not once.

Remus sighed through his nose as he pulled his battered Wisconsin hoodie over his head and tightened the drawstring of his sweats, letting the comfort envelop him. “It’s not his fault,” he murmured into the mirror. “Don’t get into your head about this.”

Sirius was in the living room when Remus made his way down the stairs with his hands curled into the worn sleeves of the hoodie. He said nothing while Remus began absently cleaning up the scattered items around their junk bowl, though his gaze prickled the back of his neck.

“Mon loup?” came the soft question after two minutes of tense silence.

“Yeah?” he managed around the tightness in his lungs.

He could practically taste Sirius’ hesitation. “Did I—nevermind. Sorry.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” Sirius said again, though he seemed to be folding in on himself. Remus hated seeing him try and take up less space, and hated the idea that he was the one that caused it.

$200. On sheets.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked, leaning back against the countertop.

“No, I just—” Sirius pasted on a smile and cross the room, dropping a tentative kiss to the top of his head as he passed despite the wary look in his eyes. “Just a thought. It’s nothing.”

“You’re upset.”

“No, no, I’m good.”

“Please don’t lie to me.” It came out harsher than intended and Remus winced. “I mean—Sirius, something is obviously bothering you.”

He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, rubbing his thumbs in small circles over the marble countertop before making brief eye contact. “You’re angry,” he said at last, cautiously. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Remus said, then paused. Sirius’ face fell. “Well, I’m a little irritated, but—but it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t be.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Remus swallowed hard at the kicked-puppy look on Sirius’ face. “It is.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said.

And that was…honestly, kind of the worst thing he could say. “You don’t get it,” Remus said, staring at the floor. “Sirius, you just spent 200 dollars on sheets.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him more. “You said you liked them.”

“I—” Remus flailed his hand around. “I do! But Jesus, honey, that’s kind of a lot!”

“We both liked the sheets.”

“I don’t know how to tell you that that’s expensive!” he blurted as the words wormed their way out and hung in the air. “Two hundred dollars might be peanuts to you, but that used to be my food budget for the month!”

“Remus—”

“You have never had to budget a day in your life,” he said, quieter. “Your watch probably cost more than a month’s rent for my apartment, you’ve never taken public transportation—”

Remus—”

“—and you make millions of dollars every year!” He paused, out of breath, and ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “Millions, Sirius. And—and now that we’re together, that we’re living together, it’s just really apparent in a way that it wasn’t before.”

Sirius’ throat bobbed. “I wish you had told me at the store.”

“It’s not about the sheets,” Remus laughed, because there was nothing else he could do other than cry. “We have entirely different views of how much money is worth. You can pay for things for me and I can’t do the same for you, and that feels like shit.”

An unsettling quiet blanketed the whole first floor as Sirius stayed very, very still, like a small animal caught in a trap. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he confessed, barely above a whisper. “You’re right. Money is…it’s not something I’ve had to think about, but I like spending it on you.”

“I don’t like being cared for,” Remus forced out around the grate that had been keeping it down. “I don’t like feeling like I can’t support myself, or that I’m a burden on you and especially that I can’t repay that.”

Sirius finally met his eyes, and he looked appalled. “Remus, you’re never a burden.”

“It feels like it.” He was horrified to feel the burn of tears in his eyes. “Sometimes. When—when you buy nice things for me, or we go on nice vacations, or even when you buy groceries for us for the fifth time in a row, it feels like I’m using you for your money.”

“But you’re not.”

“No!” Remus said immediately. “God, no, never. That’s the last thing I want. But I don’t want you to have to change your lifestyle to make it revolve around me, either. I feel like I’m caught in the middle and there’s no good answer.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, the way that always made Remus feel a little bit like a particularly intricate play he was trying to work out. “What did you want to say at the store?”

“I—what?”

“What did you want to say while we were getting the sheets?”

Remus bit his lip in thought. “Those are too expensive, and I think we should get different ones,” he said eventually. “I like the color and the fabric, but I don’t want to spend that much money on sheets when we could do something else with it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.” The earnest look on Sirius’ face eased some of the bubbling feelings in his chest. “And I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

“I was embarrassed.”

“…why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing to look at your multi-millionaire boyfriend and say, ‘I can’t afford $200 sheets’, Sirius. It sucks. I feel like I can’t measure up.”

Sirius nodded. “I’ve never judged you for your money, not once. Just for the record. There’s nothing I would rather spend it on than making you happy.”

“I don’t want to be sheltered and provided for.” Remus blinked back the last of the tears and closed his eyes. “I want us to be equals. That’s important to me.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t know how to fix this right away.”

“I don’t, either.” Warm fingers brushed the back of his hand and he leaned into Sirius without looking. “Can we try and figure it out, though? As a team?”

“Yes, captain,” he snorted, feeling Sirius’ soft huff on the top of his head. They stood silently for a few seconds before Remus let go of his tension with a slow exhale. “I don’t think a joint bank account is a good idea yet, but maybe we can start by alternating who buys groceries? Or something small like that. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, not with you. I love you too much.”

Sirius nuzzled into his hair for a moment before lips pressed against his temple. “How about we start by making the bed?”

The pressure on Remus’ chest eased. Making the bed was easy. They had the exact same method for it, a function of Sirius growing up with a militant mother and Remus’ aunts lovingly terrorizing him into learning how to do hospital corners. It was an olive branch that he could happily accept with a light squeeze around Sirius’ waist. Baby steps, he thought. We’ll deal with the big stuff when we’re better settled. He offered a half-smile to Sirius. “What are we waiting for?”

Chapter 15: Hell's Kitchen

Summary:

Remus' shitty relatives on Thanksgiving

TW for homophobia, bad relatives, and minor injury

Chapter Text

The guilt was eating Remus alive, and anger was cauterizing the edges. Forks clinked on fine china plates; he shoved another mouthful of soggy, bland pumpkin pie in his mouth and tried not to scowl too hard.

“So, Remus!” His ground his teeth and forced an interested look as Aunt Carol’s chipper voice broke the tension. “How are you enjoying the NHL so far?”

“It’s great being able to play again,” he answered.

Uncle Chuck snorted. “Be a helluva lot more fun if you scored a goal, eh champ?”

In his periphery, Remus saw his father go rigid and his mother’s knuckles go white on her fork. Beside him, Sirius’ face darkened, and he forced himself to speak before anyone else said anything to ruin the already-awful evening. “Not for lack of trying, that’s for sure.”

“Come on, kiddo, we need something to tell the association!” he chuckled, like it was funny. Aunt Carol hooted with laughter behind her napkin. “Got all that attention and nothing to show for it!”

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t after attention in the first place,” he gritted out. It was a bad night, just as he anticipated when he first got the call from his parents that the annual Black Friday dinner invitation had arrived in the mail. Carol was his mother’s last living relative—there was a sense of obligation in going, though none of them ever truly wanted to. Remus suddenly found himself wishing his great-aunt would start going off on yet another vaccine tangent he could safely tune out rather than…well, everything that had been said so far.

Carol turned a bright smile on Sirius, like a bird of prey zeroing in on a rabbit. “So, Sirius, have you been seeing anyone lately?”

Remus choked on his pie—Sirius nearly coughed up a lung around the mouthful of water he had just tipped back. “Pardon?”

“Are you seeing anyone?” she repeated, innocent as could be.

Remus glanced to his mother, who mirrored his confusion and sense of impending doom. “Yes?” Sirius said after a moment, chancing a look at Remus. “I’m—Remus and I have been together for over a year.”

She waved a hand as if batting a fly with a playful scoff. “Oh, honey, you can drop all that here. Do you have a girlfriend yet?”

Remus stared at her, struck speechless. Of everything he had expected, that certainly wasn’t on the list. “Aunt Carol, we’re engaged.”

“I’m gay,” Sirius said at the same time.

That brought a chortle out of Uncle Chuck as he raised his wine glass again. “Come on, you two, let loose a little! There’s no reporters here! Just family and a nice meal where we can be free of all the theatrics and have a good time. You might have been able to fool the paps, but my wife and I saw right through the whole thing.”

Slow, terrible realization began to settle in Remus’ gut. Sirius blinked at the couple before turning to him with a lost expression. “It’s not an act,” Remus said as clearly as he could manage around the scream of frustration building in his lungs. “We’re really getting married next summer.”

Chuck frowned. “What about that nice girl, Lily Whatserface?”

“She’s my best friend’s wife,” Sirius said, one hand gripping the edge of his seat.

“Damn, I always thought you two would be cute together,” Chuck tsked, sipping his drink. “But really, Remus, you ought to settle down with someone soon and start having—”

“They are settling down, Chuck,” his father interrupted, colder than Remus had ever heard before; he tried not to let his surprise show. “Together. As a family.”

Carol sent his mother a wide-eyed look. “Does he speak to you like that?” she murmured out of the side of her mouth. Remus watched her lips press into a thin line before she silently shook her head, more out of disgust than anything else. He glanced at the clock—barely an hour had passed since their arrival. Usually they made it at least 90 minutes before he felt like throwing up.

“Now—” Chuck paused to clear his throat and take another drink before leaning toward Sirius, who visibly moved back. “What do your parents think about this whole thing, young man? Are they in on it, too?”

Fuck. Remus took a deep breath in and watched the side of Sirius’ jaw tick. “No,” he answered with a great deal more calm than the situation called for. “No, my parents unfortunately don’t approve of my upcoming marriage to your nephew. We’ve cut contact since I was outed.”

Genuine bewilderment crossed Chuck’s angular face. “You didn’t tell them your plan?”

Remus’ fork squeaked on his plate. “It’s not a plan, it’s a—”

“I never intended for them to find out,” Sirius snapped.

“But if you explained your strategy—”

“It’s not a strategy!” Everyone turned to look at Remus and he took a deep breath, setting his fork down with a shaking hand. “Uncle Chuck, Aunt Carol, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but the engagement isn’t fake, we’re actually gay, and if you have some pipe dream about me or my fiancé having a straight American life you can shove it up your ass.”

Remus,” Carol gasped.

Chuck frowned. “Listen here, young man, I’ve been trying to have a conversation with Sirius—”

“You’ve been fucking rude—”

“—because his parents deserve to know the truth—”

“My parents don’t deserve shit—”

“They’re your parents!”

“They’re abusive and homophobic.

“This whole thing has gone on far too—”

“Carol, if you say one more word—”

“That’s enough out of you, Hope, I’m trying to make sure your son doesn’t throw away his future—”

“It’s my future and my husband and you have no right to—"

“I don’t know where you two went wrong as parents but—”


Eerie quiet filled the two-story house. Hope glared at the pineapple wallpaper Carol had happily informed her had come straight from their Florida condo as she scrubbed at the burnt remains of the forgotten sweet potatoes. She heard a hiss of pain down the hall and a low murmur—she wanted to be upset with Remus for overreacting, but slamming his glass down hard enough that it shattered was an entirely justifiable reaction after the shitshow that came from her uncle’s mouth.

Carol primly cleared her throat as she took a casserole dish from the drying rack and began dabbing it with an embroidered kitchen towel. “I hope Remus is alright,” she said after a few seconds of silence. Hope hummed in agreement. “You know how Chuck is, love. Sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop.”

Hope focused her attention on a stubborn grease stain, blood thundering in her ears. There had been many Black Friday dinners where she wanted to crawl into a hole or burn the house down, but none quite as explosively bad as that one. They hadn’t even made it through dessert.

“If Remus needed money, he could have just asked.”

Something distressed laced Carol’s voice; Hope finally looked up, baffled. “What?”

“This whole…” Carol trailed off with a sympathetic smile and a wave of her hand. “Thing could have been avoided if he just said he needed a hand. I know Chuck and I struggled with money at his age, but this whole fiasco is so much more complicated than it had to be. We would have happily helped him out instead of letting him make a fool of himself like this.”

For a moment, Hope wondered if her aunt was speaking a foreign language. “I’m sorry?”

Carol blinked at her. “I mean, being with Sirius Black must be a nice lifestyle, but was this whole thing worth it to keep living in some fancy city?”


There was a knock on the doorframe. Sirius glanced up from the framed photo of a younger Chuck and Carol and felt his mood dim, but moved aside all the same.

“Thank you, Sirius,” Chuck said, smiling regretfully as he settled down next to him on the couch with two bottles. “Want a beer?”

“I’m good.”

He set one aside and cracked the other open. “I’m sorry for raising my voice earlier.”

Sirius waited for him to continue; when it became clear he wouldn’t, he closed his eyes and stifled a sigh. “Thanks.”

“It’s just that the Lupins, they’re family, you know? Between you and me, I’ve never been a big fan of Lyall—” I think everyone on the Eastern seaboard knows that, actually, Sirius thought. “—but Hope’s my only niece, and Remus is…Remus, so I was just trying to look out for them. I want them to be happy, you know?”

A latent tongue of fury spiked up Sirius’ spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I want Remus to live a good life, and I want Hope to have the joy of a few grandbabies running around—”

“What do you mean, Remus is Remus?” His pulse picked up as he looked to Chuck, who shifted uncomfortably. The mood in the room tilted on its axis; Sirius felt a familiar tang in the back of his throat, like he did before a fight on the ice.

Finally, Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose with a slow exhale. “He’s just sensitive, always has been. I could never figure him out. He was a sweet kid, clumsy, but he didn’t get into scraps with other boys or roughhouse with his cousins. Kid never took a hit in pickup games. And then this whole thing happened and I’m just worried he’ll pull you into it.”

Sirius’ jaw was starting to hurt from clenching it so tight. “Go on.”

Chuck reached out and put a friendly hand on his shoulder, giving him a light pat. “If he starts to get all clingy and needy, don’t feel bad about doing what’s best for you, Sirius. We’ll be there for him to make sure he can pick himself up and move forward.”

A lot of things ran through Sirius’ head in that moment. Curse words, mostly, mixed with questions and possibly a phone call to the higher power that forgot to put braincells in this man. None of those were what came out of his mouth. “Why is it so hard for you to believe I love him?”

Chuck’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, then settled into confusion. “Because you’re you, and he’s him.”

“D’accord, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Sirius said, mustering all his therapy techniques for a calm mind. “I am gay. Remus is the love of my life and has been for over a year. We are getting married because we honestly love each other, and you are not invited. Do not ever—ever—insult my fiancé to my face again.”

Something shattered in the other room before Chuck had a chance to respond; they both stood as Hope stormed out of the kitchen, snatching her coat off the hook with so much anger flowing off her Sirius could practically feel it burning his skin. “What happened?” he asked, helping her gather their winter layers from the hall closet.

Carol hurried from the kitchen half a second later. “Hope—”

“No!” Hope snapped, whirling to face her. “Absolutely not! I have put up with your bigotry since I was six years old and I am done putting my family through it from some misplaced sense of duty! Carol, I have given you so many chances, but as of tonight you can rest assured I will never contact you or your husband ever again. Lyall?”

Lyall half-jogged down from the hall bathroom with Remus hot on his heels, bypassing Carol without so much as a glance her way. Sirius didn’t know what to do, so he wrapped his scarf around his neck and prayed for a quick exit.

“You ruined everything tonight,” Hope continued, her eyes shining with tears. Chuck and Carol stood side-by-side in utter shock as she smudged the first one off her cheek. “Everything. I thought that maybe you would put aside our differences to celebrate my son’s good news because for all your faults you’ve never been outwardly homophobic, but you have been nothing but disrespectful to him and his fiancé and my husband and me, and I am tired of it. I’m sorry you can’t look past your blinders and I’m sorry it had to end like this. We’re leaving. Goodbye.”

Sirius pulled the door open for her, then followed Remus out with a light touch to his lower back. It was a cold night. His bones were colder. The whiplash change between wanting to throttle Chuck and then watching as Hope flew off the handle left him floundering for some idea of what to feel. It was too much all at once.

Lyall was holding Hope on the front lawn as she sobbed into the front of his jacket. A warm hand, the one not covered in bandages, slipped into his own. “Dad?” Remus said quietly.

“Go on, bud.” Lyall tilted his head toward their car. “We’ll meet you at the house.”

“You’re sure?”

A single nod was all the answer they needed. Sirius gave his hand a squeeze and they walked to the car together; he didn’t even flinch at the cold interior as they shut the doors. Silence fell in a heavy blanket.

Remus leaned his forehead on the dashboard and let out a long breath. “I am so sorry.”

“Holy shit,” was all Sirius could think to say.

“This is all my fault.” Remus shook his head, shoulders slumping. “Jesus, this is all my fault, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s not your—”

“They’ve always been a nightmare,” he said miserably. “Every year. Mom doesn’t have anyone else and they don’t have anyone come over for Thanksgiving because they are such shitty people and I know I told you they’re awful but—but fuck, Sirius, the things they said to you.”

There had been a point, just before Remus’ glass broke and blood stained Carol’s lacey tablecloth, where all six of them were shouting at each other; nobody was saying anything, but that didn’t matter. Sirius’ blood had boiled as he watched the love of his life get berated by the people that were supposed to be family. He regretted not taking seriously the earlier warnings about Chuck and Carol’s less-than-stellar views and the sour grimace on Remus’ face when they drove up.

It wasn’t right. He was the one with the bad family, and Remus was never supposed to go through that horror show.

Remus straightened up in the passenger seat and turned with a guilty look. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me. We should have stayed home and had a nice time and I—I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I’m sorry. I fucked up so bad and I hope you can forgive me for putting you in that situation.”

“You’re forgiven.” It was the easiest thing Sirius had ever said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, I asked if you were okay.”

Something in his face cracked; he reached out and Sirius pulled him in for a hug without hesitation, soothing the tremors under his palms with gentle circles. “I hate hearing people say bad things about you,” Remus said hoarsely, pressing a hard kiss to his cheek. “I love you too much for that. I had no idea how awful it would feel to hear it coming from my family.”

“I love you, too.”

Remus sat back again, cupping Sirius’ face in his palms until they made eye contact. “I love you,” he repeated, fierce and unyielding. “I love you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Not for your money, not for your looks, not for attention. You. I would wait a hundred years if it meant I still got to love you, so don’t ever listen to anyone who tells you I wouldn’t.”

Sirius reached up and swiped away the tears on his cheeks with his thumbs, then drew him in for another hug and closed his eyes. The knot of hurt and indignance and shock was beginning to unravel. He loved his fiancé and he loved his in-laws and that was all that mattered, now.

“They’re not your family if you don’t want them to be,” he said. It had taken him a long time to learn that fact, and yet it remained the most important one in his life. “Don’t feel guilty for their choices, Re. I’m not angry with you. I’m just sorry you had to do that.”

Sirius could count on one hand the number of words they said to each other on the drive home; he didn’t let go of Remus’ hand the whole time. Hope and Lyall were still out when they arrived and Jules would be with a friend until the next morning, so they entered the house and shed their layers in relative quiet, then headed to the bathroom and stripped out of their nice clothes. The hot water blasted the last of the intense emotions from Sirius, leaving him tired and drained—he carefully redressed the cuts on Remus’ hand and sealed each Band-Aid with a kiss.

They didn’t bother with anything but pajama pants despite the snow outside, curling up as tight as they could under the thick comforter and soft flannel sheets. Wordlessly, Remus turned them so he could be the big spoon, and Sirius fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart on the back of his shoulder. The night was almost over. The morning would be kinder.

Chapter 16: Testimony

Summary:

Lions vs. Snakes after Regulus testifies toward the Snakes' abuse

TW hockey fights, minor injury

Chapter Text

“And we are off to a killer start!” Frank announced. “After one hell of a first period, which resulted in two goals against the Snakes from our own Gryffindor Lions, the score is currently 2-0 and I for one am quite excited for this second period.”

“I have to agree, Frank,” Lee said. “We all knew this game was going to be charged, but I can’t say I remember the last time we saw the Lions sink their teeth in with this kind of ruthlessness. The closest might the game against Vegas after Fenrir Greyback’s rib-breaking hit on the captain last year.”

Frank hummed his agreement. “For those who don’t know, the decision over Regulus Black’s contract with the Snakes has finally reached the defendant’s side. Allegations have officially been made against the Snakes organization concerning what can only be called abuse against their players in order to end Black’s contract early. Unfortunately, there have also been several arising rumors about player-on-player conflicts on the team.”

“We can’t confirm or deny any of the breaking stories yet, but I think it’s safe to say neither of us are surprised at the Lions’ temper tonight,” Lee continued. “It’s a tricky situation. Accusations of this kind have never been made against an organization before, and certainly not so publicly. And here we go for the second period, everyone! The referee approaches with the puck while Pascal Dumais and Lucius Malfoy prepare for the drop—Dumais wins it! A quick pass to winger James Potter, and this looks like it’s going to start fast and stay fast—”

“—Pots passes to Lupin, who carries it up the ice and redirects a hit from Snape before snapping it back. Potter goes up, takes a brutal check from Malfoy—”

And the ice exploded into a melee. “My God,” Lee managed, baffled. “For anyone watching at home, that check on James Potter has resulted in what can only be called a knock-down, drag-out fight between these rival teams. I have to admit I was waiting for that pressure to blow, Frank, but I didn’t think it would be like this. Even the goalies have dropped their gloves.”

“I can’t even make out everyone’s numbers from here,” Frank confirmed. “Oh, on the outside—alright, it looks like Sirius Black, who many of you will recall is Regulus Black’s older brother, has dragged Lucius Malfoy from the mess and has him by the front of his jersey. I’m not sure if we can zoom in for viewers at home, but it looks to me like Malfoy’s skates are just barely on the ice.”

—————-

“Did you do it?” Sirius asked lowly as his blood pounded in his ears and his fists crumpled Malfoy’s number. The whole rink sounded like it was underwater; he could hear the fans roaring and the noise of a messy fight behind him, but he kept his gaze firmly on the weaselly face in front of him. Malfoy remained silent. Sirius shook him hard, hoisting him half an inch higher until they were eye-level. “Did you do it?

“I d—I don’t—”

Regulus had been so pale as he gave his testimony, holding his chin high and his hands still as he recounted story after story after story of the hell his supposed teammates put him through to ‘prove his loyalty’. Sirius would make sure Lucius Malfoy and his habit of teaching Reg he was unlovable proved their goddamn loyalty to whatever god he believed in, because it was high time Sirius taught him what happened when you fucked with one of his brothers.

Lucius grabbed at his forearms, but Sirius kept a steady hold on him. “Riddle made me—”

“You breathe on him again,” Sirius interrupted, hardly above a harsh whisper as he kept unblinking eye contact. “You touch him. You contact him. You even look at my little brother again, and I will knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll never find them all. And tell your goalie that if a single one of those stories about him turns out to be true, I won’t be so nice to him.”

Sirius dropped him without warning; Lucius’ skates hit the ice with a dull thud and skidded out from under him for a moment before he scuttled back to his side like the roach he was. Whistles blew in harmony and he turned just in time to see the refs finally pulling the teams apart. His Lions were roughed up, but the Snakes looked worse. Good.

They were the reason he had to drive Regulus to give his statement and watch him shake in his seat the whole way there. They were the reason his little brother dry-heaved the whole morning before that. They were the reason a grimace flickered over Regulus’ face whenever he put his old gear on, and why his hands were scarred from the dozens of blisters he had acquired during their barbaric drills.

Sirius was not an angry man. He made an exception for the one person he couldn’t protect.

His pulse had just started to calm when Riddle glanced over at him across the ice and a sneer curled his lip—Sirius’ blood kicked up in an instant and he lunged for him. You were the one he feared the most, he wanted to snarl. He was supposed to trust you to lead, and you failed him just like everyone else.

Referees caught them both around the chest just before they met in the middle, but Sirius leaned close enough that their visors touched at the forehead. “You’re goddamn lucky you’re in that net,” he hissed. Riddle’s eerie eyes showed no fear, but they showed no triumph, either. Good.

Everyone on the ice was sent to the boxes—the second lines skated out, looking much less volatile but still glaring daggers at one another. Remus sat next to him with an ice pack against the black eye forming over one side of his face and murder on his lips. “Which one got you?” Sirius asked, refocusing on the game.

“Dolohov.”

“And?”

“He’s down a tooth, I think.”

Sirius could feel himself shaking inside his pads. “I want to make them pay.”

A rare fury flashed in Dumo’s eyes as he took the space on Sirius’ other side, bumping his shoulder. “Then we win this game, mon fils. We don’t give them an inch to stand on. And then we go home and we stay with Regulus until this is over.”

Sirius took a deep breath through his nose, watching their timer count down. Picking another fight wouldn’t do them any favors—grinding the Snakes into the dust would certainly make him feel good, and crushing Reg in a hug when they got home would be even better. He had a lot of time to make up for.

Chapter 17: Lockdown

Summary:

Sirius faces his parents

TW toxic family, past child abuse

Chapter Text

And how do you feel about your youngest son’s decision to go to college?

Sirius taped his socks down with a black roll. The rainbow stared up at him from his duffel, unused and judgmental.

We’re very disappointed in Regulus. He’s throwing away an irreplaceable opportunity and we expected better after everything we’ve done for him.

Her voice had been controlled and deadly soft, with just the right amount of regret. She almost sounded sad, if that was an emotion she could feel.

And Sirius—

We don’t speak of Sirius, his father had interrupted. The interviewer had faltered in silent surprise. He’s made his choice.

He’s been very supportive of Regulus to the media—

He’s always been stubborn and contrary, ever since he was a child. The coldness Sirius remembered well from his childhood had leaked into his mother’s voice, taking away the false disappointment and replacing it with a cruel edge. He would say anything to go against us.

The interviewer had looked between them like a rat caught between two mountain lions, finally realizing the gravity of his fuckup. Sirius applauded him—it took him seven years to figure out just how dangerous that house was, and only thirty minutes for this stranger and his microphone.

Do you keep in contact with Sirius?

And then came the kill stroke. His father’s face like stone, and his mother’s nose high in the air as she spoke like the hissing snake. Sirius Black is the greatest regret of my life.

The interview had ended less than a minute after that statement. The reporter didn’t seem to know how to respond, and Sirius didn’t blame him. It wasn’t every day one was told point-blank someone’s parents wished they’d never been born.

A hand brushed his shoulder blade and he swiped his sleeve under his nose. Left skate, right skate, get up. Get up. Get up, play the game. “Mon fils?”

Dumo would be looking at him like he needed to be pitied. Revulsion rose up in his throat at the idea. “Ouais?”

There was a rustle as Dumo crouched to his level, turning his face away from the rest of the silent locker room. Shutting Remus out and ignoring everyone’s texts in the two hours since the video’s release had been difficult, but necessary. They had a game to win. He didn’t need people spilling their sympathy all over him about something he already knew, no matter how hollow he felt.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. “Are you alright?”

“Let’s win this thing.”

“Sirius—”

“They didn’t exactly hesitate to tell me that to my face for eighteen years, Pascal,” he bit out, staring at the floor. He couldn’t bear to meet that kind gaze. Not when he needed to muster some anger to fuel him through the game. “I’ve known I was the family disappointment for years and it hasn’t stopped me yet.”

“Please don’t bottle this up.”

“It’s fine.” He sniffed again, though no tears threatened to fall. “This has always made me stronger.”

“You didn’t have to be strong,” Dumo said quietly. He sounded like his heart was breaking. “You were supposed to be safe and loved and—”

“None of that was an option, so I did the best with what I had.” A tremor was building in his stomach and he swallowed it down, gripping the edge of his seat. “I’m going to go warm up before anyone else starts pissing me off.”

It was a cruel thing to say. Something that his mother would do before guilt-tripping him. But at the moment, he’d rather ask for forgiveness later than fall apart like some poor, lost child who had finally reached his limit.

He took his stick and marched past the rest of his wary-eyed team, intent on burying the pain in a few good slapshots to get his head back in order before the fans arrived. Maybe he could ask Remus to sneak away for a quick, heavy makeout session or some other distraction that would ground his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to go into a game with his whole life tilted on its axis.

The door flew open before he even got a hand on the knob—he flinched as an armful of person fell into him and the door slammed closed again. Fingertips dug into his upper arms almost painfully as Regulus stared up at him. “Maman est là,” he hissed.

Maman est là. Words offered as a warning and an olive branch less than a year prior, words Sirius hadn’t heard since a canyon of ice and six years of separation sat between him and his brother. Even after everything they had been through, his stomach still leapt into his throat; finally, with a heave and a groan, the dam of hurt gave way to anger. “Where?”

“I saw them coming in. Nobody’s allowed into the rink yet, but they were going that way and I think they were at your house and they know I’m home from school and they’re looking for me.” Regulus was shaking as he clutched Sirius’ arms. There was an old fear rising in his gaze.

Sirius could feel his heartbeat in his ears. “How do you know?”

“La vidéo. They know they lost you, but I’m still fair game. They were coming for something, and I’m the only thing they have left.”

Sirius Black is the greatest regret of my life.

Sirius took a deep breath through his nose, holding Regulus’ shoulders loosely as he choked back the urge to hide. They had always been good at that—for all its faults, Grimmauld Place didn’t lack for nooks just big enough for two small children to curl up in. “You’re okay,” he heard himself say. He should have known better than to think his mother would give up that easy after All Stars. “Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”

“Cap, we can handle them,” Talker said quietly behind him. The weight of their eyes pressed heavy on his shoulders.

Sirius stayed silent for a long moment before running a hand down his face. He could wait for security to kick them out of the rink, or for his teammates to be bravely stupid and fight that battle for him. He could hide with Regulus, then go out and lose a game. That was safe.

And yet safe had never been an option for Sirius when it came to his parents, and he was tired of walking on eggshells around them. He was tired of running away, of pretending like they didn’t haunt him, of constantly wondering whether they would slip back into his life when he least expected it. He had loved them, once. He liked to think they had loved him, too. But he was done clinging to the scraps.

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated with a reassuring squeeze of Regulus’ shoulders and a kiss to the top of his head. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way out of the locker room, lonely and cold until they were joined by others tumbling over each other. “I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“Don’t even start,” Remus said dryly. James just scoffed.

“I don’t want you to come with me,” he tried again, though his courage surged at the sounds of their voices.

“Say bad things about captain, say bad things about team,” Kuny said. There was none of his jolly humor in his deep brown eyes when Sirius glanced back. “Wait to meet assholes for very long time.”

Two black-clad figures—mon dieu, the drama never stops with them—stood stark against the red and gold stands as the six of them entered the rink. His heart stuttered in spite of himself. They were arguing with a pair of security guards, but his mother stopped when she saw him. Her pale hand rested on his father’s arm, and then Sirius was bearing the full weight of their combined gazes for the first time in over a year.

He was seven, and got caught sneaking an extra glass of juice from the fridge.

He was freshly ten years old, and Andromeda had put her sparkly hair clips in his too-long bangs as a joke that his parents didn’t appreciate.

He was fifteen, and desperately keeping back tears while their silent disappointment filled the car in a choking cloud.

He was twenty-three, and Thanksgiving went from bad to worse and he knew he couldn’t hide that mark from Pascal.

He was twenty-seven, and he had five members of the best family he knew flanking him. Not fighting his battles, but supporting him.

A slender hand touched his lower back and he let out a slow breath. “We’ve got you,” Remus murmured.

Every step was steady as they crossed the ice; the shush of half a dozen pairs of skates soothed him. “Orion,” he said as they pulled to a stop. “Walburga.”

Her thin lips twitched. Of all the features they shared, he was grateful he had skipped that particular one; he’d rather not spend his life looking like his favorite hobby was sucking on lemons. “Sirius.”

Next to him, James’ breathing was tightly controlled. “Why are you here?” Sirius asked. Straight to the point. Give them nothing to bite at.

“We’ve come to take Regulus home.”

“He’s not here.”

“Liar,” his father snapped. Sirius clenched his jaw around a flinch. “He’s not as sneaky as he likes to think.”

Sirius kept his chin high. “You’re not allowed to see him.”

“Oh, petit, you sound like me,” his mother cooed.

He took a deep breath to calm the tide of snarling fury. “Get out.”

“No.”

One of the security guards stepped forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Black, nobody is allowed in the stands for another—”

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Walburga said icily, not breaking eye contact with Sirius as she held her palm up to the man. “Speak when you are spoken to.”

The poor man seemed baffled, and Sirius offered a slight shake of his head when he looked over. “Neither of you are welcome here and you know it. You made your feelings toward me perfectly clear earlier today. Rest assured I will not contact you.”

Manicured nails, sharp as claws and twice as deadly, curled around the boards as she leaned forward an inch. “We’re not here for you, mon regret.”

To his right, Leo’s breathing went shallow. “Get out of this rink,” he said, voice low like Sirius had never heard.

“I wasn’t speaking to—”

“Drop the attitude,” Remus interrupted. Sirius’ chest hitched with instinctive fear, but he stayed put. “You’re no better than anyone here, Walburga.”

Her steel grey eyes flickered over them before settling on Sirius again; he reveled in the faint pink flush of anger on her cheeks. “Control tes chatons et ta pute before they shame you further.”

“They’ve been more of a family to me than you ever were. Get out of here before you shame yourself.”

“You’re a failure and a disgrace.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“We’re not leaving without Regulus,” his father said. The warning in his tone reminded Sirius of an avalanche siren, inevitable and familiar, marking the moments before cold pain set in.

Sirius gripped the bench in front of him until his knuckles were white. “Over my dead body.”

Movement flashed in his periphery and he caught his father’s wrist half a foot from his face as five shouts cut off behind him. Adrenaline flashed to his heart like lightning—he had never stopped a hit before, just taken them and then moved on. Bones and joints flexed under his fingers and shadows covered his father’s brow. “You—”

“Lay a hand on me again and I swear to god this whole country will know what selfish, cruel, and disgraceful excuses for parents you are.” A shaky feeling spread all the way through Sirius’ abdomen. His father’s wrist felt surprisingly fragile in his loose hold. “I will drag your name through the mud and I will enjoy every second of it.”

“Is this how you repay us for everything we gave you?” his mother hissed through her pearl-perfect teeth. “Everything we did, we did to make you better.”

“And it was never good enough,” Sirius snapped. He knew his voice was louder than he had tried to keep it, but the fear was fading and the anger was dimming and he just wanted it to be over. He wanted to be done with the dance he had been forced into since he was too young to understand. “Nothing I did was ever good enough for you, and you made me think it was my fault for falling short of your bullshit expectations.”

Watch your language when you address—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Soul-sucking silence fell over the room and Sirius felt his heart skip a beat before something like glee bubbled in his stomach at the sight of his mother’s abject shock. “For once in your life, shut the fuck up when I’m speaking to you. Are you listening to me now?”

He took their lack of response as a ‘yes’.

“I’m not your property,” he continued, releasing his father’s hand. “Regulus is not your property. You have no claim to either of us and I will be damned before I see you take his happiness away. I have a family. You have nothing. Get out.”

“You are an ungrateful child and always have been.” Walburga had returned to her lethal softness, but it didn’t scare him as much as it had when his life felt as if it was in free-fall. “You would rather throw your lot in with cheaters and thieves before returning to your family.”

“You threw away your chance at being my family the second you started treating me like a profit instead of your son.” Sirius swallowed hard as the words left a bittersweet taste on his tongue. “I didn’t ask them to come here with me, but they did it because they care about me. I am not a successful hockey player because of anything you did. I am successful because there are people in my life that love me without my skates and that is something you have never understood.”

Simpering disdain tilted his mother’s mouth, like it had when he said he wanted to be a firefighter at age five. “Nobody will remember you for anything but your name.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Sirius’ mouth until he stopped trying to hold it down, letting the sheer hilarity of that statement slip free for just a moment to watch the triumph on their stern faces wane. “And when people hear that name, they’re going to think of your queer, married son and his queer, college-educated brother and they won’t remember a damn thing about either of you. Now get out of my rink.”

“Don’t speak of debasing yourself—”

“I debase myself damn near every night—”

“You spit in the face of everything we—”

“You didn’t do—”

“Regulus was the only loyal—”

“Regulus is happier without your claws in him—”

Do not interrupt me again!” his mother shrieked, grabbing him by the arms and yanking him close.

Three different hands grabbed his jersey to pull him back, but her nails couldn’t bite through the sleeves. Sirius smiled. “You are nothing without Regulus and I, and that’s your own fault.” He glanced toward the security guards, each of whom had one of her elbows. “Could you get them out of here, please? There’s a game tonight and I don’t think they have tickets.”

And Sirius watched as his parents were led out of Gryffindor Arena boiling with rage and utterly helpless, left with nothing but bluster to their name. A familiar weight fit against his side like a puzzle piece and he lifted his arm to rest over strong shoulders. “Proud of you,” Remus said with a light kiss to his wrist.

James cuddled under his other arm and Sirius held him tight as a sigh fogged up the bottom half of his glasses. “Can we still drag their names through the mud?”

“I could go for some mud-dragging,” Leo agreed.

Talker snorted. “Throw a little slander in there and it’s a party.”

Kuny’s hand was heavy as he ruffled Sirius’ hair with a light sniffle. “Strong man, captain,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet. “Good man.”

They headed back to the locker room together, all wobbling the second their skates came off the ice, yet unable to fall as their looped arms kept them steady. Sirius felt his bones beginning to shake from the dimming adrenaline. Regulus looked up from where Kasey was braiding his hair and smiled like the sun itself when he saw Sirius’ face.

Collapsing into Dumo’s hug felt like coming home.

Chapter 18: What You Have, What You Hate

Summary:

The amnesia fic--18k words of hurt/ comfort

TW for mild injury, concussion, temporary amnesia, all kinds of ~feelings~

Chapter Text

“A tough loss for the Lions tonight,” Frank said solemnly as the teams shook hands and began skating to their own sides. “What a game. With almost their whole second line out sick, our boys were fighting hard for all three periods. Captain Sirius Black played a record number of minutes, and for that I think he deserves a few extra kudos. Let’s have a look as they head to the bench.”

The camera zoomed in, bypassing the Ravenclaw players to focus on the Lions as they dragged themselves off the ice. James wobbled with every step; Remus pulled his helmet off and leaned against the wall, eyes closed. Leo barely made it on solid ground before sitting down hard on the bench.

Sirius brought up the rear, his face flushed and hair sticking to his neck. Both hands shook slightly while he got his helmet off. “For those at home, that is the look of someone who left it all in the game,” Lee said with grave respect. “Everyone out there gave it their best. I hope we can see the second line s—oh, hold on, the captain isn’t looking too steady.”

Below, Sirius faltered with his skates still on the ice and braced himself against both sides of the gate. James straightened immediately and tapped Remus on the shoulder as he passed, calling something inaudible—Sirius shook his head and started to move again, but his knees buckled and he collapsed after half a step.

“Oh my god!” Frank said over the noise of shouting and whistles from the stands below. A gasp went up from the fans; Remus was there in a second, kneeling next to Sirius without a trace of his earlier exhaustion. He was pale when he looked up and motioned for a medic. Blood stained two of his fingers. “Alright, everyone, the captain’s down, and it looks like he might have hit his head on the way. We’ve got medics coming over and we’ll be sure to keep you updated—”


White light made his head pound as he cracked an eye open. His mouth was dry, and every limb felt heavy. A papery, unpleasant texture scraped against his fingertips. He grimaced; the smell of antiseptic prickled at his nose. To his left, something was beeping rather loudly.

“Pads?” a quiet, tentative voice asked on his other side. Sirius flinched at the sudden noise before letting out a slow exhale through his nose, squinting as he let his head fall to the side. The corners of his eyes were crusted over from what must have been a long, long nap. Pads. Guess that’s me. “Hey, man, how’re you feeling?”

The walls were an unfortunate beige color, but the blankets covering most of his body were the same pristine white as the ceiling. Sirius hummed and hoped that would be enough of an answer. The voice didn’t sound like either of his parents, after all.

“Can you look at me? You can go back to sleep in a sec, but I want to make sure you’re okay.” Well, that was new. Sirius could count on one hand the number of people that actually cared about him on a daily basis. Something in his heart warmed as he blinked his eyes open a little more. Behind a thick set of glasses, warm brown eyes stared back at him and a dimpled grin eased some of the pounding headache. “There he is.”

“Maman est là?” Sirius mumbled.

“Uh, no,” Glasses snorted. “No, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Pourqoui?”

His amusement faded by a degree. “Well, none of us really thought you’d want her here,” he answered. Sirius startled into more abrupt consciousness as two hands took one of his own. “Woah, easy, it’s just me.”

Sirius paused. Just me. Hand-holding. A nickname. An itch started in the back of his mind—he was supposed to know this person. “Ouais, sorry,” he managed. Fake it till you make it, Black. Like always. “How long was I out?”

Glasses got a sad look on his face, but he didn’t stop rubbing warmth back into Sirius’ hand. “You’ve been drifting in and out for a couple days. Knocked your head pretty good on the boards on your way down, and ice isn’t…y’know. It’s not hard to get hurt on it. Scared the shit out of us.”

“Sorry.” Us. Ice. Boards. Glasses was a teammate, then. A teammate on…Sirius wracked his foggy memory. Red and gold, red and gold, roaring crowd…Lions. He played for the Lions, and so did Glasses, and so did everyone else he apparently scared half to death when he fell. Got checked? Sirius wasn’t quite sure anymore.

“Sirius?” He jerked back to reality at the sound of Glasses’ voice. “You okay? I lost you for a sec.”

“Ouais, je suis bien.” He shook his head. “I mean, I’m fine.”

“I know enough to translate, don’t worry,” Glasses laughed. Through the haze of confusion, familiarity trickled in. He knew that laugh.

Sirius stared at Glasses as two words rose unbidden to his hazy thoughts, and he couldn’t help a small smile. “Best friend,” he said quietly. There was no name attached, but he knew that much.

Glasses grinned and curled Sirius’ weak fingers into a fist to bump with his own. “Always and forever, man. Thirsty?”

Yes.”

“Alright, I’ve got you.” Sirius surveyed his face as Glasses turned to the side to pour him some water from the pitcher by his bedside. Square jaw, red cheeks, deep dimples at the corners of his mouth; his eyes crinkled with the force of his suppressed excitement. Sirius had seen that look directed at other people before, and he knew the way Glasses’ hair usually sat. Messy, but not as wild as it was right then. Loose curls usually dropped over his forehead when he looked down at…

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek as the memory slipped away. Glasses was supposed to have something in his arms. Something he loved. Something Sirius adored, too, though it was right out of reach. He let his head fall back on the pillows again with an internal groan of frustration, then froze.

They weren’t alone in the room. Behind Glasses, a more slender figure was curled up in a plastic chair by the wall, asleep. Someone had draped a hospital blanket over him; a backwards baseball cap sat askew on his head, and golden curls stuck out a bit haphazardly along the sides. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted around even breaths. Sirius blinked. He was beautiful, in a heartbreaking way.

The plastic water cup was cool in his hand; Sirius saw a flash of metal on his own ring finger and swallowed down his disappointment. Married. So his mother had won, after all. He wondered if his wife would be offended that he remembered his teammates better than her. Whoever she was, he hoped she would be kind enough to forgive him for it.

Glasses tilted his head to the man in the chair. “Couldn’t get him to go home,” he murmured. “I promise I tried, but I thought he was going to bite my face off when I suggested even going for a walk. He hasn’t left you in two days.”

Two days? Sirius furrowed his brows, taking a slow sip of his water. For me? “Why?”

“You know how he gets,” Glasses said with a light snort. “I wasn’t risking the wrath of Loops unless absolutely necessary. God, he’s gonna flip when he finds out he slept through you waking up.”

‘Loops’. Another teammate, then. That didn’t explain the way Sirius’ heart flip-flopped when he looked at him, though, or why it hurt so bad to see him crumpled up in that tiny chair. Two days was a long time to spend in a hospital room. “Thank you.” It took more effort than he expected to pull his gaze away. “For staying with me, and for being here.”

“Christ, Sirius, of course I did,” Glasses half-laughed. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and he sniffed them back, squeezing Sirius’ hand gently. “You scared me. You weren’t—we were so fucking tired and then you just dropped and people were calling for medics before I could even get my head on straight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t—” He broke off and swallowed hard with another sniffle. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake right now. Everyone’s going to be so jealous I got to talk to you first.”

“Best friend privilege,” Sirius joked, earning himself a smile.

“Lily sends her love, by the way.” A wry smile pulled at the corner of Glasses’ mouth when Sirius lifted his left hand in a silent question. Lily, then, he thought. Lily’s a nice name. Best-friend-approved, too. “She’s barely stopped texting me since she left to go put Harry down for his nap.”

Sirius choked on his water with how fast his heart dropped, dissolving into a coughing fit. Not only did he have a wife, he had a whole child that he didn’t even remember the face of. What kind of horrible father did that make him? “That’s important,” he said lamely once his breath returned. “I’m glad they’re getting some rest.”

Glasses watched him for a moment, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sirius figured they must be pretty close if this guy didn’t make him feel like a bug under a microscope. “I’m going to get the nurse, okay? Hang tight and try to stay awake. It’ll just take a minute.”

He patted Sirius’ hand one more time before he stood, swiping his sleeve under his nose. His footsteps were quiet; the door closed with a snick behind him. Sirius sighed through his nose and leaned back against the crinkly sheets to get his bearings.

Location? Hospital.

Time? He bit his lip and glanced around until he found a clock close enough to read if he squinted. Three pm.

Systems check? A quick flex of his fingers and toes told him that everything was in order. Everything, it seemed, except his head. A faint throbbing had started near his temple.

People? Sirius paused. Glasses had confirmed they were best friends. The nurse would be here soon. That left…

He glanced back to Loops, still snoozing away. A peaceful quiet settled over the room and Sirius exhaled—it was just them, now. He could let himself look for a few seconds longer. The sound of slow, even breathing among the beeping and muffled voices outside comforted him more than he cared to admit.

He wasn’t allowed to take comfort in the sleepy twitches of a teammate’s face or how soft his hair looked. He shouldn’t be aching to know what Loops’ heartbeat sounded like right then, and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about the undeniable beauty on that face despite the faint lines striping one cheek from sleeping on his forearms. He shouldn’t wonder how warm Loops’ shoulders were under that well-loved Wisconsin hoodie, how his freckled arms would feel holding Sirius close.

But he did, all the same.

“—go home,” Loops murmured in his sleep, readjusting so one foot brushed the ground. “Gonna go home, feed the cat.”

“What’s your cat’s name?” Sirius asked, smiling to himself. Loops snuffled and said something too quiet for Sirius to hear. Quiet fell again before Sirius gathered his courage. “What’s your name?”

But Loops stayed asleep, and the door opened two heartbeats later. Sirius tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. “The nurse told us to just keep an eye on you,” Glasses said as he propped the door open with one foot and balanced a fruit cup in the other. He cast a look at Loops and the corner of his mouth turned down for half a second. “And as long as you’re not, y’know, puking your guts out we should be fine to just chat until your next checkup. Oh, and I figured some dad wisdom might be in order, so I brought him too.”

All the soppy affection in Sirius’ heart evaporated into burning steam. His ribcage seized up and he clenched his fists in the sheets while he tried to control his breathing. Show no fear. His mother might be at home, but Glasses had said nothing about his father and he had been too stupid to ask—

It wasn’t Orion Black that walked through the door. There were no cold, angry eyes pinning Sirius in place, no silent judgement. Instead, a broad-shouldered man crossed the room and gently pushed Sirius’ hair off his forehead, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head. A kiss. “Oh, mon fils,” the man sighed as he took the vacant chair; his expression held equal measures of worry and relief. “I am so glad you’re alright.”

My son. Sirius just stared at him, dumbstruck, frozen, his heart stuttering. This man was not his father. Sirius could not remember a single thing about him, and yet even the way he moved was familiar. He knew the feeling of this man’s hand on his shoulder—steady and solid—and the way he laughed—deep and booming—and…and he didn’t really know what to do with that.

I’m supposed to know you, he thought as he watched concern creep into laugh lines. You love me, and I don’t even know your name. Sirius took a shuddering breath. His head hurt so fucking bad; all he wanted was to go curl up at home in his bed with—with somebody, someone whose name and face were just out of reach but whose absence sat hollow in his stomach. Something warm dripped down his cheek.

The man frowned, swiping the stray tear away with a gentle thumb. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius managed. His head pounded even harder from keeping down his tears.

It took few seconds, but realization dawned on the man’s face. Sirius couldn’t bring himself to move away when he reached out and dried another tear with a sad smile. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Sirius’ throat constricted and he slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry, what?” he heard Glasses say.

The older man closed his eyes. “They told us there was a five percent chance—”

“He was talking to me two minutes ago—”

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius forced out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—you were so nice, and I didn’t have anyone else here, and you said you waited for me and I didn’t want to be rude—”

“You knew I was your best friend,” Glasses whispered.

Sirius fumbled to grab his hand where it hung limp by his side. “I do,” he insisted as desperation bubbled up in place of the gaping ache in his heart. “I know that I know you, it’s just—your name? There are some pieces missing, like a puzzle, and I don’t know how I got here, please don’t be upset—”

“Sirius,” the older man soothed. “Sirius, c’est bon.”

“Désolé.” A fine tremor was starting in his stomach and branching into his arms. “Désolé, s’il te plait ne pars pas.”

“We’re not leaving, don’t worry.”

A soft noise came from the corner and Glasses went white as a ghost. “Oh, shit,” he breathed.

“ ‘s going on?” Loops mumbled, grimacing as he stretched his legs out and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Did I miss the doc—”

The whole world paused when Sirius met his eyes. Loops went statue-still. “Bonjour,” Sirius said.

“Oh my god.” That pretty face crumpled and then Loops was next to him in three stumbling strides, his hands cupping Sirius’ face. “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How long have you been up?”

“About ten minutes,” Glasses said hollowly. “Re—”

“And none of you said anything?” His words were accusatory, but there was nothing but joy in his expression. Sirius was too stunned to even move. Dark circles were stamped beneath Loops’ eyes and Sirius saw worry flicker over his expression. “Hey, why were you crying, baby?”

Baby.

A riptide of terror dragged Sirius under and stole his breath. The warm palms cradling his jaw with so much tenderness and genuine concern turned into a burning brand. He jerked back from the touch, planted his hands on Loops’ chest, and shoved.

“What the fuck.” His voice shook and every breath shuddered.

Loops’ brows drew together in confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“Don’t touch me,” Sirius snapped as he tried to step forward again. “Stay the fuck away from me. That isn’t funny.”

“Baby—”

“What the fuck did I just say?”

Loops glanced to Glasses and the older man. “What’s going on?” he asked with a hitching breath.

The older man took his elbow, turning him aside. “Remus, we should talk in the hall.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Get away from me,” Sirius said lowly. The spiking adrenaline mixed with his headache and made his vision blur.

“Pascal,” Loops—Remus—began. His voice matched his stance, tense and guarded. “What happened?”

Pascal hesitated. “They told us there was a five percent chance of—”

No.” Sirius winced at the raw, grating tone. The room fell silent; Glasses laid a gentle hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Remus closed his eyes for a moment and took two deep breaths, his hand pressing so hard over his collarbones that Sirius could see his fingertips whitening even six feet away. “How long have you known?”

“Right before you woke up—”

How long?

Seconds, Remus.” Sirius watched Pascal’s throat bob. “I promise. I figured it out just before you woke.”

“He’s been awake longer than a few seconds.”

“He hid it pretty well until Dumo came in,” Glasses said quietly. Guilt stabbed hot through Sirius’ chest and he looked down at his hands. “He—we had a full conversation and I didn’t notice.”

When he risked a glance up again, Remus’ chest was rising and falling in tight movements. His face was a mask of passive control. “They said there was a five percent chance of severe memory loss and a forty percent chance of mild. How much are we talking?”

“He doesn’t know our names, or how he got here.” Sirius wasn’t sure how to feel about them talking about him literally three feet from his bedside, but it seemed like Remus’ careful calm was growing more fragile with each word from Pascal. “I swear to you, Remus, it was less than a minute before you woke.”

Remus blinked twice. Sniffled. His lashes clumped together as he shook his head. “I never should have fallen asleep.”

“You haven’t slept—”

“They told me nothing was wrong.” His voice caught; Sirius felt sick. Even with that stubborn ringing in his ears and the emotional maturity of a mushroom, he knew that this was not a problem he could fix by explaining the situation. Glasses and Pascal had looked horrified and sad when they realized; Remus looked shattered.

Remus had called him baby.

“They told me—” He faltered, clutching the neckline of his hoodie with a helpless look on his face. “The MRI came back clear.”

Pascal rested a tentative hand on his shoulder; when Remus didn’t push him away, he rubbed a soothing circle over it. “You know better than anyone machines can’t tell us anything.”

A hiccup caught in Remus’ chest. “They told me he was fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius finally said, hardly above a whisper. Remus and Pascal turned to him. “I know I play for the Lions, and I know my name, and I know I have a little brother named Regulus. This is clearly very upsetting for you, but I promise I’m trying to remember my friends.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Remus’ face remained unchanged, but his jaw tightened as he held Sirius’ gaze. “Friends,” he said flatly.

Sirius blinked, twisting the edge of the sheet in his hands as anxiety flared. “We’re teammates, yes?”

The cracking of the mask started slow, with a wobble at the corner of his mouth and hazel eyes turning bright. Remus crossed his arms over his chest, though Sirius wasn’t sure whether he was trying to defend himself or hug himself as his slender fingers clutched the faded grey fabric. “No.”

Once again, Sirius cursed himself for not staying quiet while he had the chance. Salvage the scraps, salvage the scraps— “I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier, you just startled me. If you give me a few minutes, it might come back to me—”

No,” Remus repeated, blinking fast.

Sirius wiped his sweaty, shaky palms on the thin blanket. “Then please just tell me so I don’t have to guess—”

“You know me.” It came out on a choked-back sob. “Sirius, you know me. You know me better than anybody.”

Pascal began guiding him toward the door with gentle, firm hands. “Come on, Remus, let’s get some water.”

“I’m not leaving!” Sirius flinched at his raised voice and felt Glasses give his shoulder a squeeze.

“You need to take a deep breath—”

“In sickness and fucking health—”

“Remus, this isn’t going to help—"

“You know me!” Remus struggled and stumbled, but Pascal’s hold was steady while he all but pushed him toward the door. Sirius had never felt so helpless as when he looked into Remus’ eyes and saw desperate hope overflowing. “Baby, please­—”

Sirius’ stomach lurched. “Don’t call me that.”

“I need you, I lo—”

The door closed behind them. Sirius closed his eyes. There was a muffled commotion in the hall, followed by a long stretch of silence. Baby echoed in his head like church bells as he fidgeted with the plastic hospital bracelet. “Please tell me your name.”

“James.” Glasses cleared his throat. “James Potter. I’m your left wing. You were my best man and are the godfather of my son.”

Sirius nodded. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Is Lily my wife?”

Something that would’ve been a laugh if it had more substance rushed out of James. “No, I won that jackpot. She’d think that was hilarious, though. You’re—you two are more like siblings.”

“I’m married.” A hum answered him. Sirius struggled to swallow. “I’m going to ask another question and it’s kind of important and I think I might already know the answer.”

“Shoot.”

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Then again, because his stomach felt like it was trying to shiver right through his skin. “Have I come out to you yet?”

James sniffed. “Yeah, man. We all love you.”

Sirius picked at the tape on the back of his hand. “Who were they? Pascal and Remus.”

“Pascal Dumais has basically been your adopted dad since you were eighteen. He and his wife, Celeste, have four kids and you’re like their big brother.”

A half minute of silence passed. “James.”

“Remus Lupin. Loops, your right wing.” James took a shaky breath. “And your husband of six months.”


Remus knelt in the hallway and stared at the door. His panicked, blinding adrenaline rush had faded as fast it arrived, leaving him suspended in shock. Numb. Dumo was still holding him, keeping him vaguely upright as his knees dug into the cold floor through his pants. He was saying something, not that Remus could make out the words through the cotton packed in his head.

“Oh, god,” he finally managed, little more than a breath. Sirius had looked so confused in that bed. So afraid under his snappish anger. Afraid of Remus. How did nobody see the signs? he wondered, leaning further into a solid chest. How could nobody tell he wasn’t alright? It took him a moment to realize the shallow, broken breaths were coming from himself. “Oh, god, I lost him.”

“No,” Dumo said immediately. “Remus, he’s going to be fine—”

“I lost him.” Tears burned his eyes but never fell, not even as Remus kept his eyes down and gripped Dumo’s forearm like a lifeline with both hands. “Dumo—Dumo, I lost him, he didn’t even know my name.”

Distantly, Remus felt a hand rubbing his shoulder, as if anyone else’s touch would be a comfort. “He will remember,” Dumo soothed. “He just woke up, Remus. The doctors said there was no permanent damage, ouais?”

Remus’ tongue was lead in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the dry sobs wrack through him soundlessly. Sirius had been pale even as they shook the opponents’ hands; Remus should have stayed with him, should have caught him, should never have let his exhaustion get the better of him.

Maybe then Sirius wouldn’t have hit his head. Maybe then he wouldn’t have his whole world taken away. Remus had suffered many things in his life, but he couldn’t recall the last time something made him hurt so completely like the lost and guarded look on Sirius’ face.

Sneakers squeaked in the hall behind them. He didn’t bother trying to straighten up. “What happened?” Logan demanded before the group even came to a stop. His hand closed around Remus’ arm, but Remus didn’t so much as flinch. “Loops? Is he okay? Did something go wrong?”

“Dumo?” Leo sounded scared. Remus knew he should comfort them, but there was nothing in him but an ocean of saltwater that fought to get out. Remus wanted to let it and found that he couldn’t.

“He doesn’t love me anymore.” It rolled off his tongue in a tumble of syllables. Never in his darkest nightmares did he think that would ever come true.

“No, Remus, that’s—” Dumo broke off; Remus felt him turn by a degree. “Sirius is alright. He’s awake and Pots is with him right now.”

“I don’t believe you,” Logan said warily.

Dumo’s chest rose and fell. “We don’t know the full story, but—”

“He doesn’t remember me,” Remus mumbled. It was as if every molecule of oxygen had vanished from the hall. “Us. Any of us.” He sucked in a deep breath, though it was more of a wheeze. “Five percent. They told me five percent.”

“Come on, Loops, let’s get you up,” Dumo said quietly. Remus let himself be hauled to his feet like an old coat, ignoring the screaming ache in his knees. It was nothing next to the raw wound inside.

“Hey.” A face swam into view, accompanied by a gentle voice. Talker held his upper arms tight. “Are you going to pass out?”

Remus shook his head. He needed to pull it together. He needed rationality. He needed to be able to stand on his own without anyone propping him up. He needed—

Sirius.

The tears rushed right up to the edge, but he shook his head again and carefully sat in the chair next to Dumo’s. It was old and creaky, and big enough that he could pull his knees up to hug them close to his chest. One more layer of protection between his soft, bloody insides and the outside world.

“Sirius woke up about fifteen minutes ago.” Dumo sounded exhausted already. Remus felt a tremor run through his arm where it rested against his own. “James was with him, and he seemed fine at first, but then he started acting strange.”

“I was asleep.” He tightened his grip on the sides of his knees. “I fucking fell asleep.”

“What kind of strange?” Logan asked.

“Confused, mostly. Ah, mal à l’aise?”

“Uneasy,” Remus mumbled. There was a light, comforting pressure on his upper arm.

“Right now it looks like Sirius’ memory was affected when he hit his head.” Dumo was quiet for a moment; there was a rustle, and Remus saw someone pass him a tissue. “Merci. At the moment, I don’t think he remembers much of anything since he joined the team.”

“Fuck.” Kasey’s voice shuddered as a collective murmur buzzed in the air. “Can we see him? Is everything else okay?”

“He’s only got a moderate concussion and a cut on his forehead, though the doctors aren’t sure how he swung that one,” Dumo said with a humorless snort. “Little miracles. I’m going to stay out here for a bit, but I’m sure he’d like to see you.”

Remus sniffled as the chair next to him creaked and closed his eyes. Someone’s arm draped heavy over his shoulders, pulling him in for a side hug as the others talking quietly among themselves. An anchor sat at the base of his ribs and weighed him down. “How could he forget me?”

It was a pathetic, selfish thing to say, and practically inaudible through the thickness of his voice, but his agony had warped into bafflement. “I don’t know,” Talker said. “But we’ll fix this, okay?”

They had won, beating every challenge the NHL tried to throw at them. There weren’t supposed to be any more obstacles in their way. Nothing worse than a little argument or injury now and then, something they could fix with a few apologies or a Bandaid. Just three mornings ago, Sirius had refused to let Remus go brush his teeth without payment of a million kisses. Now, he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him. “But we’re married,” he whispered. “That’s not supposed to happen. That’s not how it works.”

“Re?” Talker ran a thumb over his knuckles. “You okay? You’re a little pale.”

Remus blinked. “I think I need to go for a walk.”

“You need to stay right here, actually,” Dumo corrected, pulling him back down when he tried to stand on unsteady legs. “I need you here with me.”

That soothed the wrenching feeling in his heart a bit. Remus knew how to be needed. “What can I do?”

Dumo kept ahold of his forearm, though his gaze remained on the closed door, unreadable. “Just stay.”

Shadows moved on the wall through the little window; James was probably by Sirius’ bedside again, where Remus had sat and slept for the better part of eighteen hours before Lily forced him to get up and have some water. He wanted to be guilty for staying in the hall, but couldn’t find the space. A shiver rocked through him. “I think I’d rather have my shoulder ripped apart again instead of this.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Hurts the same.”

A heavy silence fell over the three of them before Dumo huffed. “Yeah,” he finally said, his voice a little thicker. “Yeah, I bet it does.”


The abject shock had faded by the time the doctor allowed them to visit, but Leo couldn’t say he was feeling much better. Dumo and Remus, at least, seemed to have somewhat recovered—they had each managed to keep down half a sandwich, and Remus’ face wasn’t gray anymore. They still looked like someone had drained twenty years of their life away.

Finn knocked on the door; Logan’s hand shook in Leo’s own as he gripped it tight. “Come in,” a tired voice answered. James smiled at them when they entered, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

Leo’s chest constricted as Sirius watched them with intense focus. His gaze flickered to Logan, whose breaths were hitching quietly. “You’re with Pascal,” Sirius said. There was more caution than guarded tension in his voice, and his accent was thicker than Leo remembered. “Almost all the time, ouais?”

“We both lived with him,” Logan managed. “I’m—we’re close. You and me.”

“Parles-tu français?”

“Ouais.”

They traded a few sentences back and forth; Leo understood most of it, but he was too distracted but the subtle changes in front of him to listen very hard. The Sirius he had grown used to was tall and untouchable and loud with his friends, only solemn in front of cameras or when the situation called for a killer poker face. But he looked shy as he spoke with Logan and yet intensely concentrated, like he was trying to memorize every word that left his mouth. Even his posture was different—he fidgeted with the edge of the hospital blanket, leaning unconsciously toward James.

Leo’s heart skipped a beat when silver eyes locked him in place. Something like a smile tugged one corner of Sirius’ mouth up. “Rookie,” he said, and it cracked Leo right down the middle.

“Yeah.” The word came out hoarse and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. Yeah, that’s—you call me that.”

“C’est bon. What’s your actual name?”

“Leo Knut. Like the lizard.”

“Logan said you’re his…copain? I’m sorry, I can’t remember the word.”

Leo nodded. “Boyfriend, yep.”

Sirius brightened. “You speak French?”

“Some.” It was taking every ounce of self-control not to burst into tears and he tucked his hands under his arms in what he hoped was a casual movement. “I’m from New Orleans.”

“And you, too,” Sirius said as he looked to Finn. “He calls you names in French.”

“Sirius!” Logan gasped.

“It’s true.” Mischief played over Sirius’ face, and for a moment Leo saw him as he must have been at the start—not nearly as open, but eager to please and excited at the possibility of friends. “They’re good names, don’t worry. What should I call you?”

“Finn. Or Harzy, it doesn’t matter much.”

“So you’re on the team, too?”

“All three,” Logan confirmed. Sirius seemed pleasantly surprised by that. “What, you thought you were the only gay NHL player?”

The amusement slid away like water from a duck’s back and Leo felt his heart drop with it. “You came out to us,” he said quickly as Logan’s eyes widened in sudden regret. “Almost two years ago, now. It’s fine, nobody was upset.”

“No, no, I know,” Sirius assured him, back to the quiet caution from before. He glanced at the door, then back to them. Realization dawned on Leo. Remus. Of course. “James told me. How many people are here?”

“…twelve?” Finn guessed after a beat of silence. “The rest will probably visit soon. We’ve all been ducking in and out when we can.”

“Hey.” James tapped Sirius’ elbow gently. “I’m going to grab some water and run to the bathroom, okay? Will you be cool with just them here?”

Sirius nodded, though he seemed unsure; Leo saw tears gathering in James’ eyes as he ducked past them into the hallway and reached out to brush against his arm in silent support. He missed.

“Viens ici,” Sirius said after a half minute of awkward silence. Leo rocked his weight forward, then back again when neither Finn or Logan moved. Self-conscious concern pinched Sirius’ brows. “…did I guess something wrong? Do we—do we not get along?”

“We do,” Finn said quietly. Logan sniffled again, and Leo rested his palm over his lower back. “This is just…we’re still a little surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He saw Finn’s chest rise and fall in a quick breath before he crossed the room and planted himself in James’ empty spot, jaw tight. Leo squeezed Logan’s hip, then followed him to the other vacant chair.

Sirius’ hands went still in his lap; he gave Leo a quick up-and-down look, like he was trying to read him and the words were in a different language. “James said you were there when I fell. That you helped.”

Leo’s stomach clenched. Every muscle had been throbbing with pain when he collapsed on the bench, drained of any shred of energy and weighed down by his gear. But the fact remained that Sirius had barely been three feet away, and that Leo had spent the whole night kicking himself for not grabbing him when he fainted. “Yep.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a moment. “I know your faces,” he said haltingly, then glanced up to Logan, who lingered behind them. “Il y a des morceaux.”

“Pieces are better than nothing,” Leo said, rubbing one side of his nose. “I’m sorry we’re being so quiet. It’s just good to see you awake.”

“Three days, right?”

“Two and a half. You were in and out a bit, an hour or so at a time.”

“James said that, too. I don’t remember it.” Sirius’ mouth turned down at the side and he tugged at his hospital bracelet before leaning back against the propped-up pillows with a sigh. “We’re friends?”

Finn hummed in agreement.

“What do we do?” Leo didn’t miss the way his eyes slid to Logan for a half second before settling back on him and Finn. “Are we friends outside of hockey?”

A few beats of choking silence passed before Leo cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, you and I run plays after practice sometimes, if I’ve been having a tough time of things.” You’re like the brother I never had, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose that. “I don’t think you and Harzy hang out a lot one-on-one, but Lo’s usually your go-to for video games ‘n shit. We have dinner sometimes with you and—”

He choked the name back just before it escaped; Finn looked away with a twitch of his nose. Sirius frowned. “I cook?”

“I can’t do this,” Logan murmured. Leo closed his eyes as his unsteady footsteps padded away; the chair creaked as Finn stood and went after him. The door opened and closed and left them alone.

Machines beeped. “…I’m really sorry,” Sirius said quietly.

“No.” Leo shook his head, breathing through the tears putting pressure on his throat. His stomach was shaking. “No, please don’t be. Lo’s not good with this sort of stuff.”

“I didn’t mean to upset him.”

When he looked up, Sirius was staring at the door in plaintive regret. It was a look Leo had never seen on his face before. “We’ve all been wound up pretty tight since the game,” he assured him, hesitating for only a second before resting a gentle hand on Sirius’ forearm. He jumped, but allowed it to stay. “It’s not your fault. Emotions are hard for Logan.”

“For me, too.”

Leo let a wry smile slip through. “You’ve been pretty good at it in my experience, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does, actually,” Sirius said with a humorless laugh. He still looked pallid. “He said we were close. How close?”

“Like brothers.”

“Are we close? You and I?”

Leo thought for a moment, pulling his hand away to tuck it under his thigh. Evenings on the roof of the rink, tousled hair and teasing jabs, the way Sirius stocked his freezer with Leo and Reg’s favorite popsicles in the summertime… “I think so,” he said. “Yeah. We’ve gotten closer over the past year and a half. It’s a little different with the Dumais and Lo, though.”

“Like brothers.” Sirius’ face fell as he echoed Leo’s earlier words. “I have an actual brother, you know.”

Leo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“Regulus,” Sirius continued. His face was still impassive, but his voice dripped with fondness. “He’s…thirteen? Somewhere in there. Nice kid, even if he doesn’t always show it.”

It took several seconds for Leo to force the words out around his leaden tongue. “He’s 20, actually.” Sirius inhaled sharply. “He’s—he’s my best friend.”

Sirius nodded without a word, winding the plastic bracelet around and around.

“I’m sorry,” Leo managed. The sudden look of alarm was blurred by tears. “Fuck, I’m such a mess right now and you’re—god, Sirius, I’m so sorry.”

“Non, it’s alright—”

“I was right there. I should’ve caught you, but—but—” A hiccup cut him off as he angrily smudged away the tears with trembling hands. “I was tired and I didn’t even try. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Please don’t be,” Sirius said, a little desperate as he folded Leo’s free hand between his own and patted the back of it. It was endearing and awkward at the same time, such a Cap thing to do that it broke Leo’s heart all over again. “It was probably my fault for not drinking enough water. James said Coach put us in for way too long. I should’ve said something. It’s not your fault, I promise.”

“You don’t even remember it,” Leo blubbered. “I was on just on the bench, it wasn’t even that far.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” Sirius insisted. Leo felt two tears run down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “Tell me—tell me about Regulus.”

Leo blinked, straightening slightly with his sleeve under his nose. “What?”

“You said you’re friends, yes? Tell me about him.”

“What do you want to know?” Leo asked slowly, after a beat of silence.

Sirius shrugged one shoulder and released his hand. “Anything.”

Everything. The thought struck Leo even through his haze of guilt and he swallowed hard. Of course Sirius would want to know about Regulus, especially when the last thing he remembered of him was a frightened preteen in the house of horrors they grew up in. Come to think of it, Leo wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen a photo of Regulus from that time period. “Um. He’s…tall?”

“How tall?”

“A little under six foot, I think. We’ve never measured.” Leo winced internally; everyone just blurred into ‘short’ or ‘tall’ compared to him. “He likes vanilla ice cream?”

“He does,” Sirius said, almost eager. “And des glaces à l’eau. The orange ones.”

“He found out about creamsicles last summer,” Leo half-laughed, drying the last of his tears from his chin. “Thought he was gonna lose his mind.”

An odd look came over Sirius’ face, as if a befuddling thought had just occurred to him. “How did you two meet?”

“Through you.”

His grip tightened on the hospital blanket. “Did I take him with me?” Sirius asked, almost a whisper. “When I was drafted for the Lions, did he…?”

Leo let out a slow breath. “No, he stayed.”

The bit of excitement that had filled Sirius’ face vanished. “Oh.”

“He did live with you for a bit,” Leo offered. “After he left the Snakes—”

“The Snakes?

Fuck. “It was less than a year,” he said quickly. “He hated playing for them, and then shit went down and you and Logan went to All-Stars, and so Reg came back with you, and you and Remus made up, and everything was fine! It’s been great, actually! Your parents haven’t called either of you in almost a year!”

Sirius blinked at him. Way to go, slugger, Leo thought as he silently screamed at his own stupidity. Avoid one awkward conversation by throwing eight billion other complicated topics at the bedridden amnesiac. “I’m a little confused,” Sirius said after a moment, watching him with a wary eye.

Leo bit the inside of his lip. “I don’t think I’m the best person to explain everything.”

“No, you’re doing great,” Sirius assured him.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, then rested his chin in his palm to get a good look at the room. It was depressing as hell. Beige had never been Leo’s favorite color, and the machines were an added weight in the air. A sigh slipped out as he glanced back to Sirius. “Reg said he’d be here tomorrow. There aren’t any more trains tonight, but he’s getting on the first one in the morning. He’ll be able to talk about all this better than me.”

Sirius frowned slightly. “I thought he played for the Snakes, not the Rangers.”

“What? Oh, no, he’s at NYU.”

Sirius sat up so fast Leo jumped in his seat and grabbed his arm. “Regulus is at school?”

“Yeah, didn’t I say that?”

A slow smile lit up Sirius’ whole face as he gave Leo a light shake. “He left the NHL to go to university? In New York?”

“He started in Sept—”

“What’s he studying?”

“I—”

“Is he happy? Did he make friends? Does he visit? Does he like it there?”

The door opened again and they both looked over as Finn poked his head in. “Hey, I just wanted to—”

“Did you know Regulus is going to school?” Sirius demanded.

Finn balked, glancing at Leo. “Uh, yeah?”

“That’s fucking amazing.” Sirius leaned back on the pillows and covered his face with both hands, though Leo could still see his grin. Finn shot him a confused look and he responded with a thumbs-up. “Mon dieu, that is the best news. And he lived with me? In my house?”

“For a couple months,” Leo confirmed. “Then he was at Dumo’s for the end of the summer, and then he moved into his dorm.”

“He’s in a dorm!” Sirius sounded positively thrilled at the prospect as Finn took the other empty chair and set a bagel on the nightstand. “Does he like his roommate?”

“As far as I know.”

“He’s not terrorizing anyone?”

“Not on purpose,” Leo laughed. A giddy, warm feeling spread through his stomach. “He’s shit at answering his phone, though.”

Sirius pressed his lips together, then left a weak punch on his upper arm. “But he talks.”

“He does. Tries to call you at least once a week.”

“Fuck,” Sirius half-laughed, staring back up at the ceiling. The pulse monitor was still keeping a quick tempo on his other side. “I don’t—does he skate?”

“For fun, sometimes.”

Tears made his eyes bright for a second before he closed them. Finn’s hand rested on Leo’s back, warm and steady, a grounding force. “For fun,” Sirius murmured in clear disbelief. “I am so proud of him.”

Leo sucked in a sharp breath and felt Finn pause his rhythmic circles. “You should tell him,” Finn said gently. “He’s pretty worried about you right now.”

Sirius’ joy dimmed. “I’m sorry for scaring all of you. And for…all this.”

“Don’t be.”

“Well, I am.” Leo watched as some of the earlier guarded tension returned to his shoulders. “This is all new to me right now, but I can imagine it’s hard for you to see. I—”

He broke off with a frustrated exhale. Leo leaned into Finn as the hand on his back moved up to his neck, smoothing out the curls there. “We’re just happy you’re safe,” Finn said at last. “That’s all there is to it, Cap. Every single guy in that hallway is just happy you’re okay.”

Sirius’ nose twitched. “James said I had a concussion. That means I won’t be able to skate for a while.”

“Oh, fuck hockey,” Leo scoffed.

Sirius turned to him in obvious alarm. “I’m your captain.”

Indignance flared up. “The whole goddamn team isn’t out there because you’re their captain, they’re here because you’re our friend.”

Heavy silence fell over the room. Sirius stared at him in what would have been slackjawed shock, if he didn’t also seem mildly insulted and confused. It was hard to get a good read. “Can I have a second?” he asked after a few moments.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Finn said immediately, guiding Leo up by the shoulders. “James said to drink water, and I brought you a bagel ‘cause you should probably eat. If you want anything else, there’s a vending machine and a little corner thing, so just. Y’know. Text me.”

“Sure,” Sirius said faintly.

Leo clenched his teeth all the way out the door—it wasn’t until they were a good twenty feet that he rounded on Finn and poked him in the chest. “I am so fucking angry right now—”

“I could tell.”

“Nobody told him!” he huffed. “Not a single person told him he was important before us! What the fuck, Finn? What the fuck?”

“I know. It’s awful, and I hate it.”

Leo’ jaw ticked. “The next time I see his dad, I’m gonna punch him in the throat.”

“Easy there, Tremblay.”

“I fucking mean it. If it’s only in the last eight years that someone told him that he matters off the ice, that means he spent eighteen years—” He cut himself off, breathing hard, and Finn wrapped him in a hug. Leo tucked his face in the crook of his neck as the tremors shuddered through him. He had only known Sirius at his best, at his happiest. He had only been closeted for five of the months he had been in Leo’s life—he was strong, and capable, and kind to a fault. His connection with the other Lions was exactly what Leo had wanted.

“Deep breaths,” Finn said softly, leaving a light kiss on his cheek.

“Nobody cared about him,” he choked out. His eyes were dry—it seemed all his tears had been used up earlier—but it still ached like a sob. “And Reg was all alone.”

“We get to care about them both now.” Finn rubbed along his spine, easing the pain. “Cap’s memory is gonna come back in a couple days, and Reg will be here in, like, twelve hours. Everything’s going to be alright, Peanut. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Where’s Lo?”

Finn sighed. “Burst into tears as soon as he left. I had him go get lunch for Dumo and Remus once he could breathe again. He needed fresh air.”

Leo swallowed hard and pulled his face out of Finn’s shoulder, leaving a kiss below his ear, right on top of a dark freckle patch. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, not great.” His voice was tight and pitched up on the last word; Leo held him closer, keeping a hand over the nape of his neck. Finn sniffled twice as he gripped the back of Leo’s—well, Logan’s—hoodie.

“Have you eaten yet?” The answering silence was all he needed. “Let’s go find something other than stale sandwiches.”

“…I don’t want to leave him in there.”

“Me, either.” Leo nuzzled into the fluffed-out curls at the back of his head. Down the hall, a small group of the guys was still speaking with a nurse. James ducked back inside the hospital room, and he could see Dumo talking on the phone to someone by the bathroom. He gave Finn a gentle squeeze. “But Cap’s not alone. Let’s go find Lo.”


“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.” Sirius jolted out of his nap with a sharp inhale; in the doorway, a blond man raised his eyebrows. “Easy, I come bearing the gift of…whatever the fuck they call this.”

James Potter, Pascal Dumais, Remus Lupin—he was proud of himself for not stuttering over the name as he recited his list—Logan Tremblay, Finn O’Hara, Leo Knut, Jacob—John—Jackson with the scar on his face, tall Russian, Thomas Talker…

The blond man was still watching him expectantly as he set the small tray down and settled into one of the seats with a sigh. Sirius blinked, and realized with no small amount of embarrassment that he had definitely been scowling in concentration. “You okay?”

He tapped the side of his thumb on the thin mattress. “Starts with a B.”

“Kasey Winter.”

“Fuck, sorry.”

“No, it’s cool, most people call me Bliz. Blizzard. Easy mistake.” Kasey Winter reached over and filled a paper cup, taking a small sip. “I don’t think you’ve called me by my real name in…oof, probably eight months?”

“Why not?”

Kasey Winter snorted. “Because I don’t call you ‘Sirius’.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah. Pretentious names never sit right with me.”

His words were biting and blunt, but Sirius saw the smile in his eyes, even if his mouth remained a stoic line. “Thanks for not crying.”

Kasey—Bliz—shrugged. “Not really my thing.”

“Well, everyone else has, so I still appreciate it.”

Bliz fixed him with a look. Goalie, Sirius thought immediately. “You’re upset about something.”

Sirius balked. “Pardon?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The kicked puppy one that you get when you’re upset. Spill.”

Mild annoyance crept in. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Bliz took another sip of water. “I’m your first mate.”

Sirius hesitated and unease trickled down his back. He had been so sure that James was his best friend—James had even confirmed it to his face. As far as he knew, he wasn’t the godfather to any other team babies. “…James is my best friend,” he said carefully, though it came out as more of a question.

That got an eye roll, though it was fond. “Okay, well, yeah. You two are platonically married at this point. It’s like a pirate ship, you know? Like, James is the co-captain, and then there’s me.”

Sirius tried to follow his hand motions, but the sudden movements made his head throb and he had to blink a few times to clear the dizziness. At least the nap had helped with his growing migraine and bone-deep exhaustion. “I’m upset because I’m stuck in a hospital bed with no memories of the last eight years,” he said. Half a truth was better than a whole lie, especially to someone who claimed to be his friend. “You would be, too.”

“Oh, for sure.” Bliz took a small bowl of jello off the tray and poked him in the arm with it until he took it. “But you’re also upset because of something else.”

Sirius made a face at the vivid green color. “I’m not about to talk to you about my feelings, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Why?”

He turned to Bliz with an incredulous look. “Because I don’t know who you are!”

“Mm, yeah, that’s where the fun part comes in,” Bliz said, already digging in to his own bowl of jello. “You get an exclusive ‘ask me anything’ session with Gryffindor’s starting goalie.”

A spark of self-satisfaction popped in Sirius’ chest at the confirmation. Maybe his memory wasn’t as damaged as he thought, after all. He caught Kasey’s questioning look and allowed a small smile to slip through. “I remembered the goalie part.”

Kasey grinned, and bumped his fist lightly. “Hell yeah, man.”

“How do I know you won’t lie to me?”

“I am not the type of guy to lie to my friend while he has fucking amnesia.”

Sirius raised a brow. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“Knutty will vouch for me.” He must have seen Sirius’ hesitation, because he tilted his head toward the door. “Leo Knut. Tall, blond, looks like he fell out of a Disney movie. The less handsome version of me.”

Sirius hummed. “He cried on me, too. Well, next to me.”

“He’s the baby. We love him for it.” Kasey cocked his head. “He’s not much of a crier, but you mean a lot to him.”

Sirius nodded slowly and tried to keep the heartache down. Every person who had come to see him actually seemed to like him, for some reason. And not for hockey, either. It didn’t make sense. “How long have you been playing for the Lions?”

“Eight years and counting.”

“Were they your first team?”

“Nah, I was a Ranger for a bit.”

“How old are you?”

“Almost 29.”

“Have you been there as long as me?”

“Yep.”

“Are we friends?” The question, which had been bubbling at the back of his mind for a full minute, slipped out before he could stop it and he shut his mouth, staring into the jello. Shit. “I mean—are we actually friends, or are you just an assistant captain?”

“Hey.” His voice had gentled and Sirius fought back an embarrassed blush. “Course we’re friends, man. When I said first mate, I meant it. I’m not even an assistant captain.”

“I thought you meant something else,” he said lamely. Way to go, Black. “Sorry.”

“God knows you’ve pulled me out of enough fountains to get a bromance going. Then again, you’re the reason I was there in the first place.”

“…what?”

He could see Kasey’s smile in his peripheral vision. “The team went out, we got drunk, you dared me to catch a fish in the fountain.”

Sirius faced him in horror. “There were fish in the—I did what?

“There weren’t any fish in there,” Kasey assured him. “And yeah, people generally try to keep us apart when we get smashed because we cause problems on purpose.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Took me a bit to crowbar you out of your shell,” Kasey snorted, though nothing in his expression was mocking. “Pots did most of the heavy lifting, but I was there to usher you into even worse decisions.”

“Why would you do that?”

The edge of his smile was affectionate as he socked Sirius on the arm. “Because I could also get you out of them. I’m a chill guy. You’re pretty chill, too, once you get out of your head. It’s fun to hang out with you.”

“Not very fun right now,” Sirius muttered.

“Bullshit. I’m having a great time.”

“I didn’t remember your name five minutes ago, and we’re supposed to be friends.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by the squeak of a chair as it shuffled closer. Kasey nudged him. “You know nobody blames you for that, right?”

The lie sat right at the tip of Sirius’ tongue, but something told him Kasey wouldn’t believe it for a second. That no matter how many lies he tried to tell, the honest truth would always come out around his—Sirius’ breath hitched. Friend. His friend, without a doubt. They would stand at the bus stop together on roadies. Kasey always saved a bag of plane pretzels for him. They had a running tally of points and saves against each other, and though Sirius couldn’t remember the exact numbers without giving himself a migraine, it was enough. “I should have said something when I started feeling sick.”

“You were sick?” Kasey asked, quieter. Sirius didn’t nod, but he didn’t shake his head, either. The events just before his fall had started creeping back since James left. The feeling of being overheated, and dizzy, and shaking, and a little nauseous. The gut-twist that always came with a loss. The blur in his vision as he fought to catch his breath.

“We didn’t have anyone else that could play, did we?” he guessed.

“Pretty much the whole second line was out, yeah. Flu.”

“I wanted to win so bad, but I got tired.” His plastic bracelet shimmered in the fluorescent lights. I couldn’t bear to let you all down.

“I get it.”

He sniffed. James’ silent grief replayed in his head, next to Leo’s muddle of emotions and Finn’s careful watchfulness. He didn’t even want to think about Dumo, Logan, and Remus. He didn’t want to remember what they had looked like when they realized just how bad he fucked up. “We’re friends?”

“We are,” Kasey confirmed, giving his wrist a light tap of solidarity even though Sirius was sure he was getting tired of the endless questions.

“Close friends?”

Kasey paused for a moment. “I would trust you with anything.”

Sirius nodded, and allowed the first tear to drip down onto the sheets. “So many people are hurting because I was too stubborn.”

Kasey’s hand moved from the bed to his shoulder, not grabbing, just lending comforting weight. “If this is about Logan, that’s got nothing to do with anything you did. He cares a lot about you, and it scares him when his family gets hurt. You didn’t upset him.”

“D’accord.” A corner of the bracelet came free under his fingernail. “I upset Remus, though.”

A breath rushed out of Kasey’s lungs. “Woah, no, Remus hasn’t slept in three days and he’s not good in hospitals—”

“I pushed him.”

“Cap, you had literally just woken up—”

“He was so sad.” Sirius flinched at how wrecked his own voice sounded. Every word was forced out through the clenching feeling in his lungs. Remus’ face played on loop in his head—the change from sleepy confusion to trembling control to horror and pain. “I know him.”

“I know you do,” Kasey said. “So does he. It’ll just take a bit.”

Sirius shook his head, frustrated by the absence of the right words. “No, I know him, and—and I want him here. All of you are my friends. I know that. I don’t remember my last eight birthdays, or most of your names, but I know what Dumo’s laugh sounds like, and I can see James’ baby, and I know you’re the one that touches your goalposts and runs the crease but Leo doesn’t. I need you to know that there is something there, it’s just missing and I’m sorry.”

The first sob wracked his whole body in a soundless pulse; he brought his knees to his chest and pressed his face into them hard enough to make his headache return. Kasey’s hand never so much as twitched. Sirius wanted to be embarrassed, but he didn’t have the strength to cling to shame anymore.

“I’m so scared,” he hiccupped into the blanket. The mattress dipped and warm weight settled across his upper back. He didn’t think twice before leaning into Kasey’s side. Who gave a fuck if he was making a fool of himself? He needed comfort, and he felt safe with his friends. It was baffling and beautiful at the same time. He never thought he would be allowed to have it.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Kasey sounded a little choked up. “This is a fucking terrible situation, and it’s scary as hell, but we’re not leaving until you’re okay. Dumo will be here, and Logan will be here, and I can’t imagine Remus leaving you of his own accord.”

“They pushed him out,” Sirius said miserably. “I pushed him. I yelled at him.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t want to lose this,” he sobbed, feeling about as small as he had ever been. Finally letting go was like pouring alcohol on a wound—it burned and stung and hurt, but it cleaned out everything that had built up to fester. “I don’t even know half of you, but I know I can’t lose it.”

Kasey shushed him and pulled him in tighter, getting his other arm around Sirius’ chest. “We’re with you all the way, Cap. All the way.”

Through the haze of itching tears, Sirius saw people in the hallway, passing by and talking and sitting and waiting. Waiting for him. Staying for him, crammed into uncomfortable chairs in a too-cold room even though they were free to go. Silently looking out for him. He rested his forehead on his knees and let the tears run their course.


The hospital was quieter at night. Sirius had only mustered enough energy to see James for fifteen minutes before taking a three-hour nap, and by then visiting hours had ended and his friends were ushered out while the doctors came for another check-up.

He had never felt more empty with exhaustion.

The sheets itched and the fan raised goosebumps over his arms; his saline drip didn’t let him sleep on his side, and there was barely enough space for him to stretch his legs out all the way. They had laid the bed down to a smaller incline, but it still wasn’t flat—unfortunately, the pillow was. He was not looking forward to the oncoming crick in his neck.

In the corner, a lump of blankets was curled on a small cot. He could tell just by the breathing that he was not the only one awake.

“Remus?” A hum answered him, though it was hoarse. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few cursory words before lights-out; Remus had checked if he was comfortable, spoken with the doctors, then laid down on the cot and pretended to sleep for…

Sirius squinted at the clock. Close to two hours.

“Can we talk?”

The lump shifted as Remus turned over. “About what?”

He sounded dead on his feet. More than tired—drained. Sirius swallowed. “I love you.”

Remus’ breath hitched, and Sirius bit the inside of his lip. Finally, he heard an unsteady exhale. “Do you mean that, or are you just saying it?”

“Of course I mean it,” Sirius whispered as his heart plummeted. He closed his eyes; hearing the heartbreak in Remus’ voice was hard enough without seeing how lonely he looked on the cot. “I’m sorry about before. I was afraid and confused. I should never have yelled at you.”

“’s okay.”

“Non.”

“It is. I get it.”

“It’s not okay,” Sirius repeated. “You were trying to help. I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus sighed. “Really, I understand. I’m not upset.” Palpable hesitation seeped into the air. “Okay, I’m upset, but not at you.”

“I would understand if you were.”

“But I’m not.”

“D’accord.”

“Sirius.” There was a rustling noise, and then soft footsteps. The chair squeaked, and Sirius fought to keep himself from looking. He didn’t want to know what kind of expression he had put on that wonderful face. “I’m not mad at you. I was scared, too. I was sad. I thought it was unfair that this happened, and I still do. But I was never angry.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose. “I’m sorry.”

“What did I just tell you?” Remus’ voice was laced with a tired laugh, and Sirius drank it in like sunshine. A callused palm laid over his forehead and he felt tears start sticking to his lashes again at the tender touch; Remus brushed his fingertips through the front of Sirius’ hair like he was working off muscle memory, mixing the combing motion with a tug here and there. His thumb slipped over Sirius’ cheekbone. “What’s going on, Pads?”

He felt a drip reach his ear and swallowed down a lungful of air in a futile attempt to force the emotions back down. He couldn’t afford another breakdown. “I did everything wrong today.”

“How?”

“I spent most of it sleeping. I really only saw James, and then I made Leo cry, and then I cried all over Kasey. I didn’t—” He faltered as regret stabbed cold through his heart. “I didn’t see Dumo again. I didn’t see you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Remus’ words held no judgement. His hand continued to move. “I was a mess. Dumo was, too, but I think I stared at the wall for about four hours. This fucking sucks.”

“It does,” Sirius agreed, pressing into his touch. He wondered how often Remus touched him like that; if it was for special occasions, or if he was lucky enough that it was part of their nightly routine. He knew his heart beat a little easier with it.

“We have time,” Remus said after another minute. “Today was about processing. Tomorrow will be, too. The guys will come and go, and you can talk to them whenever you feel like it. The doctors said rest is the best thing for you right now.”

Sirius made a quiet noise of agreement. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you stay with me?” It was barely a whisper; barely a breath.

When Remus finally spoke, his voice was thick. “I married you, didn’t I?”

“Will you bring pictures?” Sirius felt sleep lulling him around the corners as Remus traced arcs over his ears, smoothing down the messy curls there.

“Of our wedding?”

“Ouais.”

“Sure.”

“And—” Sirius licked his lips and blinked his eyes open. “And of us? The guys?”

Remus was waxen and shadowed in faded yellow light from the hall, but still unreasonably handsome as he looked up at Sirius with his chin on one forearm and a smile. “I’ll see what I can find. I’ve got plenty on my phone, but screens are bad for concussions.”

“How do you know that?” Sirius teased.

He instantly regretted it when Remus’ expression froze for several seconds before he gathered himself. “I was your—the Lions’ PT for about seven years. I’ve only played a season and a half with the NHL.”

“Fuck,” Sirius muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now that Remus said it, of course he remembered. Stacks of medical tape, stocked in their favorite colors—a red binder, and pictures on a plain desk. “Your office had blue walls. The table was on the far side, and you kept the stretching bands next to it on the…hat thing.”

A slow breath eased out of Remus’ lungs. “Yep.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know, Pads.” The other nickname hung at the forefront of Sirius’ mind, taunting him. He wanted to hear it so bad, but he didn’t know how to ask. Remus ran his thumb over Sirius’ forehead and smudged away the worry lines. “Try and sleep. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Sirius gently caught Remus’ wrist when he stood. His pulse quickened as he worked the words around in his mouth. “Will you…will you stay with me?”

“Of course I will, just like I said.”

“No, here.” Sirius shifted a few inches to the side, making room. He didn’t dare make eye contact. “With me.”

“Oh.”

A long minute passed. Sirius let go of him and heard a small rush of breath; spiking worry broke through the earlier calm. Then the paperlike sheets crinkled as Remus gingerly sat next to him and swung his legs over.

“Do you have enough—”

“Shh.” Remus was silent as he wedged himself into the space between the small handrail and his side. After a bit of maneuvering, he settled down, and tentatively laid his head on Sirius’ chest. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” Sirius’ voice broke and he took an unsteady breath as tears blurred the ceiling. The solid weight of him was so familiar it ached, right down the center of Sirius’ torso.

“Does it hurt?”

Yes. “No.” He let his head fall to the side and his stomach clenched when Remus’ hair brushed his cheek. “How do we usually…?”

“We spoon.”

“Ah. I don’t know if I can.”

“Don’t worry about it. We do this, too.”

Sirius let out a slow sigh. Any sane person would have stayed in their cot with their grief and—and whatever emotions Remus must be feeling, keeping Sirius at a safe distance so they didn’t have to deal with the reminder. Remus’ heart beat against him. “You really love me, don’t you?”

Remus huffed a laugh, though there was no amusement in it. “I really, really do.”

“I wish I wasn’t hurting you like this.”

“This is hurting you, too. We’ll just…figure it out together.” Remus scooted closer and Sirius felt his hand brush his ribs. “You smell different.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Sirius wrapped an arm up around Remus’ shoulder, ignoring the pulse clamp on his middle finger. His shoulder was strong and solid; Sirius didn’t know why, but the thought calmed him. They laid together quietly for a while as Sirius ran his thumb along the curve of Remus’ neck, memorizing each plane and bump. Even having him close was a comfort. “What do I usually smell like?”

Remus stifled a yawn. “We have lavender shampoo at the house right now. It’s supposed to help with anxiety, and it smells pretty good. Not super overpowering. Your cologne is nice, too. Not sure how to describe it. Mostly, you just smell like you.” he paused for a moment. “Sirius, you okay?”

“It’s just really good to have you here,” Sirius managed around the tightness in his throat. He wasn’t cold anymore. Remus kept him warm, and weighed him down just right even as his chest spasmed through the overload of feelings. Of all the stupid things to stick around, he remembered an online quiz had called him ‘touch-starved’ once—after holding Remus next to him, after being held, he didn’t know how he could ever go hungry again.

I missed you, and I didn’t even know it, he thought as Remus fit his fingers in the ladder of his ribs like he had done it a million times. Sirius let himself relax and tried to remember their bed, but the memory remained just out of reach until he slipped into a deep sleep.


When Remus woke, he nearly forgot where he was. Sirius’ chest moved under him like it always did in measured breaths—his heart beat a familiar rhythm against his palm. Reality crashed in and Remus scrunched his nose up, as if he could block it out like the sunlight streaming through the single high window.

His wristwatch was tucked up close between Sirius’ ribs and his own chest, but the wall clock told him it was just past nine. Remus blinked, then squinted and checked again. He hadn’t slept more than three hours at a time since Sirius hit the ice; no wonder he felt less frayed at the edges. The fog of shock and anxiety had dissipated during the night. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ shoulder and closed his eyes again, humming when the movement brought out a sleepy mumble.

He was able to nap for another half hour before the ache in his joints (and bladder) grew too great to ignore. Sirius exhaled long and slow when Remus ran a flat hand over his chest once more, but didn’t open his eyes; even the soft kiss to his cheek didn’t cause more than a twitch of his nose.

Remus managed to squeeze out of the bed with minimal jostling and swallowed a groan of relief when he could finally stretch—at least six vertebrae popped back into place, making his eyes water and his shoulders whoop with joy. Then his left leg fell asleep and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a yelp of pain as pins and needles raced all the way from hip to ankle.

It took another minute and a half to get enough feeling back to hobble to the door. Dumo, Logan, and Finn were already waiting outside—Logan stood so fast that he nearly upended Finn from his nap spot. Remus held a hand up as he started to speak. “Give me two seconds to pee and then I’ll tell you everything.”

“But—”

“Tremz.”

He felt a little bad for being so abrupt when Logan hardly had the chance to say two words to Sirius since he woke, but he also knew that he wouldn’t get another chance for a bathroom break until everyone and their mother had grilled him for the details of the past fifteen hours.

Remus washed his hands and rinsed out his mouth, then braced on either side of the sink and took a deep breath. And another, because despite the bliss of waking up next to Sirius, he knew the ruse would break the second those quicksilver eyes opened again. Regulus would be there in less than two hours, and he would be a wreck, and it would be up to Remus to calm him down because he had the most information. The team would flood back in with their love and endless, exhausting concern. He needed to go home and shower. Change his clothes. Find a photo album, like Sirius had requested. Call his parents.

Maybe it was selfish, but all Remus wanted to do was curl up in the too-small bed and return to their bubble.

He stood there for almost a full minute before he bent and splashed some water on his face, pointedly ignoring the mirror. “Alright,” he huffed. “Okay, here we go. Day two.”

“Oh, good, you’re not hiding,” Dumo said with a half-smile when he returned. “We were getting worried.”

“Not hiding, just greasy.” Remus met him in a hug, and let himself relax slightly at the sturdy pat on the back.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah, actually.” He snorted in disbelief as they parted. “Eleven hours, straight through.”

“Good, you needed it.” Dumo held him at arms’ length. A frown creased his brow. “You look sore.”

“It’s—” Remus waved a hand at the door. “Sirius wanted me to stay with him. I think—I think he felt pretty bad about…yesterday. Bed’s a little small, that’s all. Tremz, you had questions?”

Logan chewed his lip as he glanced back to the door. “What does he remember?”

“Logan,” Dumo began softly, but Remus touched his arm.

“We don’t really know yet. From what Sirius has said, it sounds like everything up until age 18 or 19 is there, but the stuff after that gets murky. Some things he remembers with a reminder or two.” Blue walls. Stretch bands on the coat rack. “Other things, not so much. Names and faces are giving him the most trouble.”

I love you. Remus crossed his arms over his chest; he still wasn’t sure what to make of that. Logan sniffled. “Is he upset with me? Because of—yeah.”

“No.”

Finn rested their shoulders together and Logan swiped a hand under his nose. “I should go see him.”

“He’s sleeping,” Remus said, keeping his voice gentle. Neither of them looked like they had slept a wink; Dumo was marginally more put-together, but the corners of his eyes were still lined with worry. Logan looked up again, eyes red, and Remus felt his throat constrict. “He asked about you, though. Wanted to make sure you were okay. Once he’s up, you should talk for a bit. Where’s Knutty?”

Finn raised his eyebrows with a half-smile. “Went to go get Reg from school. Said he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. His insomnia’s been bad since the game, but he said he’d be fine driving.”

Remus frowned. “Really?”

“He napped for a couple hours after we went home.” Finn swallowed hard and pulled Logan’s hand over to toy with his fingers. “He left around two in the morning.”

The chair creaked as Remus sat on Logan’s other side, tucking his hands under his thighs. “Did you fight?” he asked quietly.

“Non,” Logan said. “Nothing like that. It’s just hard to have him away when all of…this…is happening.”

“When will they be back?”

“He said eleven—”

All four of them jumped when a tumble of hurried footsteps clattered down the hallway. “Excuse—excuse me,” a harried-looking nurse demanded. “I understand that you checked in downstairs, but you’ll need a wristband from the office down the hall to stay here—”

“I’m his brother, let me through.” Regulus dodged her grab for his arm like he was redirecting a check, his face set with determination. “Which room?”

Sir—”

Which room?

“He’s asleep.” Remus stepped in front of Regulus and held a hand against his chest, standing firm under the full force of his glower. Even in wrinkled jeans and a hoodie, Regulus managed to loom. “If you wake him up, I swear to god I’ll turn you over to the nurse.”

Regulus’ icy eyes flashed. “Move.”

“No.”

“My brother is in there—”

Sleeping,” Remus repeated. “So either chill the fuck out and you can go sit with him, or find someone else to yell at. I can promise you my bullshit tolerance is in the negative numbers right now.”

“I haven’t seen him in a month and a half,” Regulus said hoarsely.

“I know. Seriously, take a deep breath and then you can sit with him as long as you want. I just don’t want him to wake up to chaos two days in a row.”

Regulus’ anger dimmed into obvious concern, and he glanced over Remus’ shoulder. “What happened yesterday?”

Something in his gut twisted at the memory of Sirius’ stricken terror; Remus has spent a good portion of his evening wondering whether Sirius would retain his memories of the previous day when he woke, or if they would be back at square one in some sort of demonic Groundhog Day. “We had a rocky wakeup call,” he said with a forced smile. “He remembers you, though, so it should be better.”

Understanding dawned on Regulus’ face. “I’m sorry.”

“They told us it might happen.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

Remus cleared his throat around the rapidly-forming lump and moved aside, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll go get you checked in, yeah?”

“Remus?”

He paused partway through a step. “Yeah?”

Regulus hesitated, then leaned forward and wrapped him in a tentative hug. It didn’t last long, but Remus was still blinking back tears when he slipped inside the hospital room and let the door close with great care. Sirius would be up soon. Remus wouldn’t be in the room for it, which was…fine. It would be fine. It would probably be better if Remus’ Groundhog Day nightmare was true, which wouldn’t surprise him, considering how shitty the past few days had already been. The important thing was that Sirius wouldn’t be alone.

“You got here an hour early,” he rasped when he turned back to the group, clearing his throat again.

Dark circles were stamped below Leo’s eyes and he was melting into Finn more than leaning on him, but he managed a wry look. “Speed limits are more like speed suggestions, right?”

Remus smiled, and shook his head.


Sirius automatically reached for Remus as consciousness trickled back in and frowned when his hand met empty space. “He’s in the hall,” an unfamiliar voice said.

He let his head fall to the other side and squinted at the newcomer, already preparing his mental list of names, only to freeze when the blob came into focus. He blinked twice. “What…?”

The young man shifted in his seat, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Bon matin.”

Sirius blinked at him again, then propped himself on his elbows. “Regulus?

Unbridled relief flooded his face, but Sirius continued to stare at him in disbelief. “They said you remembered, but I wasn’t—”

“When the fuck did your voice drop?”

Regulus’ dark brows shot toward his hairline—since when was his hair cut like that?—and he barked a laugh. Sirius couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “About four years ago,” Regulus said, flashing him a grin in return. A grin. Maybe it was the amnesia, but Sirius didn’t know the last time he had seen a real smile from his little brother.

“The—” He pressed his lips together in frustration as the name evaded him and he switched to French. “The tall one said you were 20, ouais?”

“Just had my birthday.”

Joy bubbled in Sirius’ chest, filling every crevice. “Really?

“I think I would be the one to remember, yes,” Regulus laughed. He scooted the chair closer, eyes flickering over Sirius’ face. “You look healthier here than on TV.”

Sirius felt his smile slip. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Do we…” He faltered. Knowing the answer to his question could go one of two ways, and he desperately hoped he had the wrong interpretation. Having Regulus close, seeing him happy—Sirius closed his mouth. Not worth losing. “Nevermind.”

Regulus frowned. “No, tell me.”

“It’s fine, tell me about—”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing is bothering me!”

“Oh, please,” Regulus snorted. “That might have worked when I was twelve, but I know you well enough now to call you on your shit.”

Sirius remained quiet for a moment and smoothed out the sheets; the place where Remus had laid wasn’t warm anymore. “You said I looked healthier than on television,” he said haltingly. “Do we not see each other in person very much?”

To his surprise, Regulus didn’t look offended, or indignant, or anything like it. His face fell. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Is it true?”

“I mean, a little, but only because I’m in school now.” He scooted his chair over another few inches and tugged on the corner of Sirius’ blanket. “I lived with you for the first few months after I left the NHL, and then I was with Dumo for a while, and then I moved into my dorm. So I—we saw each other almost every day.”

Sirius couldn’t even imagine it. The hardest part about moving to Gryffindor had been leaving Regulus behind. It ached like a fresh wound, even though the others told him nearly ten years had passed. Somewhere in that time, Regulus had grown from a sullen child into…not an adult, but something like it.

“We get along, now,” Regulus said, as if he could read his mind. “I come home for the holidays because I miss you. Remus and I are good friends. Leo—ah, the tall one—”

“Your best friend.” Then Regulus’ words registered, and Sirius had to glance back to his hands as tears welled up. I miss you. It had been a very long time since anyone said that to him. “I missed you, too.”

“I know.”

“Every day after I moved out. Do you like your school?”

A quiet smile tilted his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

“You have friends?”

“A few.” He elbowed Sirius on the arm. “They’re all worried about you. Vanessa wanted to send me down with cookies, but we didn’t have enough time.”

“It’s the thought that counts. How was the train?”

“No idea.”

Sirius frowned. “How did you get here?”

“Leo drove me.”

“From New York? That’s an eight hour trip.”

The tips of Regulus’ ears went pink, and he coughed. “Seven. We were worried.”

Worried. Regulus was worried about him. “So you drove that far in the middle of the night?”

“Well, I couldn’t make it here for three days while you were unconscious, so pardon me for hurrying over when I get a text saying that you woke up and didn’t remember anything,” he said a little waspishly, then blinked a few times like he had something in his eye. “Sorry.”

Sirius reached over and brushed his fingertips against Regulus’ hand. “I didn’t forget you.”

“Yeah, Remus told me.”

He nudged him again until Regulus glanced up through his messy curls. “I might have forgotten your age, but I didn’t forget you.”

Regulus screwed his face up and sniffled, then took Sirius’ hand and held it tight. “You scared me. There was blood. Some people on the internet were saying you died, and Leo kept saying you were still asleep.”

“There was blood?”

Regulus motioned toward his head, and Sirius raised his free hand to feel around. Sure enough, a gauze bandage was taped just above his temple. “Head wounds bleed a lot.”

“Reg,” he said softly when a single tear rolled down his cheek and a second followed. “Hey, I’m okay—”

“I know that now, but nobody could tell me anything.” Regulus scrubbed a hand down his face despite his trembling lower lip; Sirius pulled lightly on his hand until he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and all but fell into a hug.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. Regulus folded into him just like always, even though he was bigger now; Sirius let him hide his face and rested his chin on Regulus’ head, rubbing his back. “I’m okay. It’s only been 24 hours and I can already remember a lot more than yesterday.”

“It’s not about your memory.” Regulus’ voice was muffled by the hospital gown as he gripped the fabric. “I thought I was going to lose you right after I got you back.”

Sirius’ breath left him with a small noise. “Reg, no. No, don’t—don’t think about that.”

“I kept re-watching it.” The hand over his shoulder blade tightened; his words were practically inaudible. “I didn’t know whether to come or stay, ‘cause you were asleep, but everyone else got to be with you and nobody knew what was going on so I didn’t know anything.”

Sirius readjusted to sit up properly and pressed a kiss to the top of Regulus’ head, closing his eyes at the tremors that rocked through him. “We didn’t see each other a lot after I left, did we?” he asked, not much louder than a whisper. Regulus’ chest hitched and he shook his head. “I don’t know what I did to make you think I would leave you like that, but I’m sorry. I promise I’m alright, mon etoile.”

Regulus hiccupped and drew his knees up until he was curled around Sirius’ arm, though Sirius could see how careful he was not to jostle any of the wires or machines. Always so careful. Where Sirius shouldered through obstacles, Regulus would tiptoe and creep and duck beneath, but in that moment Sirius wasn’t sure there was a force on earth that could detach his baby brother from him. “I’m glad you lost your memory.”

Sirius paused for a moment at the murmured confession, then slowly started rubbing his back again. “Why?”

Regulus sniffled. “Because now you don’t remember all the awful shit I said about you.”

“Oh,” Sirius breathed, his heart shattering. “Reg, I already forgave you for that a long time ago.”

“You don’t even know what it—”

“I do.” He felt Regulus suck in a breath. “I remember. And even after that video came out, I was never angry with you. I just hated the Snakes for making you say it.”

Regulus’ face had been so twisted up; the memory was still foggy, but Sirius knew enough to pick out the shark-toothed grins of his teammates behind him. He didn’t have to know their names to hate them on sight. “I should let your friends come back in,” Regulus said after a while, once his shivering had subsided and his death grip on Sirius loosened.

Sirius patted the back of his shoulder. “Actually, I want to talk to you. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Meh. Kind of.”

“Eight years,” he reminded him as they began to peel apart. “Tell me about university.”

Regulus gave him a skeptical look. “Really?”

“Really.” An idea struck as he remembered Leo’s words from the back before, and he clasped Regulus’ shoulders tight. “I’m so proud of you for going to school, Reg. I want to hear everything.”


The house was dark and quiet and stale, dust dancing in the sunlight when the front door finally opened after days of disuse. Remus sighed. It took a great heave of effort to step foot inside, and tears welled up when he saw Sirius’ hoodie casually flung over the back of the couch.

“Pull it together,” he said aloud, tilting his face to the ceiling. “Come on, Lupin, pull it together. It’s your own damn house.”

He steered clear of the kitchen, making a beeline for the stairs, then stopped halfway up with his hand on the banister. If he showered downstairs, he would have to put on his five-day-old clothes again. If he showered upstairs

Remus breathed deep for a few seconds, pushing down the tide of emotions as it tried to drown him from the inside out. “Just a room,” he muttered, forcing himself to move. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

The first thing he noticed when he pushed the door open was that it smelled like Sirius. Everything did—it was their house, after all—but the bedroom dripped with signs of him. His cologne was uncapped on the dresser where he had rushed to throw it on over his game suit. The bed was rumpled, his phone charger cast haphazardly across the pillow. His shoes were lined up beside Remus’ in the open closet as if he was going to walk in and grab a pair any second.

Remus’ arm felt like it was made of rusted pipes as he dug through their dresser for the first pants and shirt he could find, then headed toward the bathroom with his clothes clutched tight to his chest. He turned the water on and undressed on autopilot while it warmed up—the steam engulfed him and he breathed deep.

“Shower, food, photo album,” he reminded himself as he ran a hand through his greasy hair. “Shower’s here, leftovers in the fridge, photo album on the bookshelf, second row.”

He let the water rush over him for several seconds after his whole body was soaked before reaching for the soap. Lather, scrub, rinse, and then repeat. He was certainly grungy enough that an extra round wouldn’t hurt. He moved methodically, getting behind each ear and even between his toes. He ran the soap over his arms until they were almost raw from the hot water.

Remus poured some shampoo into his hand, was hit fully in the face with a cloud of familiar lavender that only made him think of strong arms and soft hair, then sat down in the tub and burst into tears for the first time since Sirius fell.


“Here’s us, right before our vows,” Remus was saying as he pointed out one of the pictures. Sirius hummed and leaned further into his side, still holding Remus’ hand where it draped over his shoulder. “Reg and Jules almost lost the rings, but they didn’t tell us until, like, a month ago.”

“And this was…?”

“This past summer.”

“June, right?”

A small smile came over Remus’ face. “Exactly.”

Logan swallowed hard. “Lo?”

“Ouais, sorry.” He pushed his hat back again and crossed the narrow hallway to sit next to Leo, then passed the bag over. Leo didn’t take it. Instead, a long arm wrapped around his upper back and pulled him over until their sides were flush. A breath shuddered out of him. “What’s that for?”

“Just wanted to hold you,” Leo said simply, shifting so Logan could rest his head on his shoulder.

Several seconds of quiet passed. Logan could still hear Remus and Sirius talking, and kept his eyes fixed on the bland doorstop that allowed some airflow into the stuffy room. “I’m scared, Peanut.”

“Me, too.”

Finn came out of the bathroom and offered a tired smile when he saw them, wiping his hands on his jeans before taking the seat on Logan’s other side to leave a lingering kiss on his cheek. Logan managed a smile at the light scrape of his stubble. “It’s gonna be fine,” Finn said, folding Leo’s hand in his own with a nudge to Logan’s shoulder. “We got Loops to go home for a bit. That’s a win, right?”

Dumo got him to go,” Logan corrected. Bribed, coerced, tricked…he still wasn’t sure. “But yes.”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

Logan licked his lips. “When Loops is done, yeah.”

“Good.” There was no judgement in Finn’s voice; he kissed him again, gentler, before sitting up to press one to Leo’s lips as well. “Sandwiches?”

“Bagels. Lo’s a genius.”

“Good bagels?”

“I wouldn’t get you, of all people, shitty bagels,” Logan muttered.

Finn nuzzled his neck with a smile. “I know.”

His back ached when he finally straightened up and accepted a half from Leo. “Reg?”

“On the phone with the Loops’ folks.” Logan reached over and wiped a bit of cream cheese off the corner of Leo’s mouth. “Thanks, baby.”

“How’s he doing?”

Leo exhaled through his nose, then nodded. “Better. Much better. He said he’d take a nap after the call, which’ll be good for him.”

Laughter trickled through the crack in the door and Logan’s heart leaped at the sound. Finn paused midbite and laced their fingers together, giving his hand a light squeeze. “That’s a good sign.”

Logan nodded. Nobody but Remus and Regulus had seen Sirius since he woke up that morning, which made sense, even if it sucked for the rest of them. If Logan was in that situation, he wasn’t sure he’d want to be near anyone other than his boys until he was back to normal. Maybe that was selfish. Sirius had more than earned a little selfishness, though.

Going home the night before had been a game of ‘who can peel Finn out of his chair the easiest’ and then ‘who can make sure Leo actually eats before embarking on a spontaneous, insomnia-driven road trip’—Logan had won both times and proceeded to not catch a wink of sleep. Finn worried quietly, and he had been worrying quietly for four days nonstop, so it was no surprise when he wrapped all four limbs around Logan and passed out cold. It still made his night rather lonely.

Dumo came around the corner at the end of the hallway and visibly relaxed when he saw them, then glanced back; two seconds later, Celeste appeared, ushering all four kids forward as they huddled close together. Katie’s gasp was loud over the murmuring of other voices. “Tremzy!”

“Bonjour, lovebug,” he said around a laugh, ignoring the ache in his muscles from sitting so much to sweep her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“We came for a visit,” Celeste answered. Her kiss to his cheek was as friendly as ever, but her smile was strained. “We were going to get a babysitter, but they wouldn’t hear of it.”

Adele held on to the hem of Dumo’s sweater as she craned her neck to see into Sirius’ room, looking much younger than fourteen. “Can we go in?” she asked carefully. “Is he sleeping?”

“Loops is with him,” Leo answered.

Katie’s lower lip slid out in a pout. “But we need to give him cuddles so he’ll feel better.”

Dumo tugged on one of her bouncy curls, then ruffled Marc and Louis’ hair. “We’ll go check and see if he’s up for visitors, d’accord? Sit tight with the Cubs and remember to use your inside voices.”

Logan didn’t miss the way Celeste clutched Dumo’s hand as they ducked into the room, nor the concern creasing the corners of her eyes. Katie rested her head in the crook of his neck a moment later. “Is Sirius okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Logan answered with a kiss to her forehead. Adele was chewing on her lip while Louis shifted his weight from foot to foot; Marc just watched through the crack in the door, brow furrowed. “How have you been? Lots of time with your maman, eh?”

“We’re worried,” Adele said quietly.

Logan swallowed hard. “Us, too, mon chou. But Loops and your dad are taking really good care of Sirius, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Anyone hungry?” The three kids turned, and Leo smiled as he held up the bagel bag. “We’ve got plenty here for y’all.”

Logan set Katie down again and pulled another chair over as they mobbed Leo, carefully placing himself in front of the door. Sirius’ room was the last in the hall—he was grateful that they didn’t have to worry about talking up too much space when so many people had been in and out. The poor nurses were probably sick and tired of seeing them already.

“Mama wouldn’t let us watch the end of the game,” Marc said around a mouthful of cream cheese. “She said Sirius fell.”

“He did,” Finn agreed, reaching over to hold Logan’s hand. His thumb moved in small circles over the back.

“But Sirius falls all the time.”

“He hit his head on the way down,” Logan explained, shifting to make room when Katie climbed back into his lap with her bagel between her teeth like a pirate’s knife. “The doctors wanted to check it out and make sure he was okay.”

He glanced at Adele and she narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. “Can he come home soon?” Louis asked. “We were supposed to play soccer two days ago and I really wanna show off my new ball.”

Logan hesitated. “Yeah, he’ll be home soon. I don’t know if he’ll be able to play soccer, though.”

Adele’s suspicion grew. “Why not?”

“Moderate concussion means he needs to rest.”

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. Katie wriggled out of Logan’s lap, leaving a cream cheese fingerprint on his knee that had Finn stifling a laugh with his hand. “I’m going to go check on him.”

Finn stopped laughing at the same moment Logan reached for her, too slow. “Katie, wait—”

She skipped out of reach and slipped inside, then bolted back out half a second later with wide eyes. “Mama’s crying!”

“Okay, shh, shh,” Logan soothed, getting down to her level. Adele’s gaze burned into him from the side.

“Mama’s crying,” Katie repeated, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably. “You said he was okay!”

“Sirius is fine,” Logan assured her, smoothing her hair back behind her ears. “Your mama was just worried—”

The door swung open all the way and Dumo stepped out, his own eyes a little wet. “Everyone alright?”

“What happened?” Adele demanded before anyone else could speak. “Papa, you told us he just had a concussion, and Logan’s not telling us anything, either. Please tell the truth.”

“Sirius does have a concussion,” Dumo said placatingly. “Aside from the small cut on his forehead, that’s the only thing the doctors found. Because of that, he’s been having some problems with his memory, so we didn’t want to worry you before we knew more about it.”

Louis looked up from his bagel with big, sad eyes. “Sirius doesn’t remember us?”

Dumo sighed and pulled Logan’s abandoned chair over to sit by them. Katie snuggled up closer to Logan’s chest. “At first, he didn’t. Now, he does. Mama was crying because she was happy to see him feeling better. Happy tears, mes petites. Cross my heart.”

“Can we see him now?” Adele asked. Marc was still looking at the door.

“Ouais. Be gentle, though.”

That was all it took to dispel the sadness—Logan barely managed to get to his feet before they stampeded past, tumbling into the room in one large clump. “Hey!” Sirius laughed from inside. “All of you?”

“Baby?” Finn’s hand on Logan’s lower back was as gentle as his voice. “Are you going in?”

Logan swallowed. “We should let him have this.”

“You’re part of the family, too.”

“I might be too much,” he murmured, turning back.

Finn blocked his path and gave him a light nudge. “We’ll be here when you’re done,” Leo said with an encouraging tilt of his head. “He’ll want to see you, Lo.”

Logan thought for a long moment. He hated hospitals almost as much as Remus did—they gave him an itchy, sweaty feeling that only amplified when someone he loved was cooped up in one. And Sirius had looked so fragile in that bed, overwhelmed by Logan’s very presence. His injuries were mild, but it was the worst thing Logan had seen in a while. “D’accord,” he said at last, scuffing his foot on the floor. Finn’s touch on his spine eased. “Yeah, okay.”

The hospital bed was a wreck when he tiptoed in. All four kids were piled over Sirius’ legs while Remus kept his place by his head; Celeste and Pascal had taken over one of the chairs with matching smiles. Questions flowed out of Marc at a mile a minute as Adele silently snuggled under Sirius’ arm and messed with his plastic bracelet.

Logan made eye contact across the room and froze. The waxen, distressed expression that had scared him so much was gone from Sirius’ face—there was color in his cheeks and he didn’t look quite as lost anymore. “Hey, Tremzy,” he said as Marc paused for breath. “Did you let the zoo in?”

Logan cracked a smile. “Dumo’s fault.”

“We do always blame it on him, eh?”

He inhaled, sharp and abrupt. Sirius remembered. Enough to recall that, at least, and by the grin tugging at Sirius’ mouth it hadn’t been an accident. “We do,” Logan agreed, taking a few steps forward until he reached the foot of the bed. Sirius’ forehead bandage was stark white, but it had been replaced by a smaller piece of gauze than before and a few thin pieces of tape. Sirius lifted his free arm in a wordless offer; Logan sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and fell into the hug, relishing Sirius’ firm, unwavering grip on his shoulder.

“I remember you,” Sirius said quietly. Logan bit the inside of his lip. “Not everything, but I know you.”

“I’m so sorry about yesterday. You needed me, and I—I couldn’t.”

Sirius made a soft, sad noise and gave him a little shake. “No. Bad. Stop beating yourself up about that. Of all people, I get it.”

Logan sniffled and tucked his knee up for a more comfortable angle. “Do you actually feel better, or are you just saying that?”

“I just got to relive my wedding,” Sirius half-laughed. “I’m doing f—I’m doing great.”


Remus got into the bed that night without prompting. Sirius, who had fallen asleep an hour prior after Lily and James brought Harry to say hello, shifted and mumbled something unintelligible. “Shh, baby, it’s just me,” Remus whispered, then winced.

Sirius blinked a few times, then looked up at him. A slow, happy smile spread over his lips. “You said it.”

“Said what?”

The smile grew. “You called me ‘baby’.”

“You—it slipped out,” he said lamely. “Sorry, I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Non,” Sirius said gently, twining a loose strand of his hair around one finger. Remus sank into the touch as it reverberated all the way to his heart. “I’ve been waiting to hear that again since the first time.”

Remus laid his head on the pillow until they were eye-to-eye, and sighed. “It a reflex by now. I call you that all the time.”

Sirius brushed their noses together. “I know.”

Time seemed to stop, along with Remus’ heart. “…what?”

“I have more memories of you calling me ‘baby’ than of you saying my name,” Sirius whispered into the sliver of darkness between them. “You say it when we wake up in the morning, and when we cook dinner together, and when we scrimmage in the basement. Every time a song has ‘baby’ in it, you look at me and sing the words. I’m only ‘Sirius’ if we’re in bed or if I’m in trouble.”

Remus didn’t even register the tears sliding down his nose until Sirius wiped them away, stroking his cheek with the back of one hand. “You…”

“It’s coming back.” Sirius said it like a promise, and Remus closed his eyes. “It’s been slow today, and I’m so fucking tired, but I remember more of the small things. There’s only one big one I’m still foggy on.”

“What is it?” Remus breathed. He would recount every second of the event to Sirius, every breath and word until those last roadblocks were overcome. And if he couldn’t do it, he would walk the world over to find someone who could.

Sirius hand flattened until he was cradling Remus’ cheek. “Kiss me, and I’ll know.”

That was something only Remus could give him, so he did.

Chapter 19: Lost and Found

Summary:

Finn and Leo help a lost child

Chapter Text

“You were awesome tonight!” the little boy gushed, his Lions cap falling into his eyes.

“Thanks, buddy,” Finn laughed as he finished scribbling out his signature. “Maybe it’ll be you out there soon, eh?”

The kid’s face lit up like the Chrysler building. Talk about adorable, Finn thought, sharing a quick grin with the mother. “I’m gonna try! Mom signed me up for a summer camp an’ I think I’m gonna be a winger, too!”

“Best spot, little man!” Finn held his fist out for a bump, which was enthusiastically returned—the kid bounced on his toes and gripped the puck so tight his knuckles were white. More people flooded out of the rink and he straightened, shaking the mother’s hand before tapping the brim of the kid’s hat.  “Alright, you’d better get a move on so traffic doesn’t get too bad. Drive safe.”

“What do you say?” the woman asked gently, turning her son back around when he went to scamper off.

A gap-toothed grin melted Finn’s heart. “Thank you, Harzy!”

“Any time,” he promised with a last wave goodbye. He watched them go until the crowd swallowed them up, bright jerseys smudging into a sea of red and gold that still made his heart pound. He had always thought hockey would be the best part of the NHL, but nothing compared to the rush of love from the fans.

A warm, broad hand brushed his lower back and he turned into Leo, already smiling. “Hey, you,” Leo hummed with a bump of their foreheads. His hair fell over his forehead in wet curls from the showers—he smelled clean, and looked sleepy already.

Finn sighed. “I want kids. Like, right now.”

“No.”

He whined in protest as Leo laughed, then wrapped an arm around him. “C’mon, they’re so cute and cuddly!”

“You told me last week that you didn’t want kids until we were all retired,” Leo reminded him with a playful pinch of Finn’s nose.

“That was a whole week ago!”

“How old was the walking baby fever this time?”

Finn scowled, but scuffed his foot against the carpet. He could feel Leo’s sweet, teasing gaze boring into him like he was getting ready for a slapshot. “Like, seven,” he admitted after a minute.

“Thought so.”

“He’s going to summer camp to be a winger.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he said I did awesome.”

“I’m sure he did, honey.”

“I want one.”

Leo turned and took his face in both hands, giving it a little shake that had Finn biting back a smile. “I want one or two or three. But not before we’re home all year instead of five months.”

Finn couldn’t argue with him, there. They had this discussion at least once a month; some cute baby Lion would come up, all happy and buzzed on the thrill of a game, and whichever one of them fell victim to those big puppy-dog eyes would be wheedling and sighing and future-planning until the other two wound them back down. It wasn’t reasonable to have kids so early. It wouldn’t be fair, either, to have all three parents in another state half the time.

But Jesus Christ, it was hard to look at Logan speaking French with a three-year-old or Leo with some little munchkin propped on his hip for a photo and not want to see that every day.

Leo left a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I know that look. You’re thinking about it.”

Finn huffed. “Yeah, I…”

“…Finn?”

The small shape by the vending machine moved again; a sparkly hair bow caught the light, and Fin’s heart dropped to his feet. He grabbed Leo by the arm. “Do you see that?”

“See what?”

“The kid.” He watched Leo’s expression change out of the corner of his eye—the search, then the recognition, then the concern. “Do you think they’re—”

“Lost,” Leo confirmed under his breath. “Definitely lost.”

“Shit,” Finn muttered, shouldering through the crowd as gently as he could. His pulse pounded in is ears. The people he loved so much had become an obstacle rather than a gift in the blink of an eye. “Excuse me, sorry, ‘scuse me—I’m sorry, one second—I can sign that in five minutes if you come find me by the door—”

Leo, blessed with long legs and a goalie’s tunnel vision, got there first. By the time Finn stumbled out of the crowd, he was already crouching down in front of the child. “You’re alright,” he was saying in a gentle voice. “We’re here to help.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Finn said with as much of a cheerful smile as he could muster despite the fear and distress painted all over big dark eyes. The poor thing couldn’t have been older than six. Scratchy carpet dug into his knees when he knelt. “What’s going on?”

The kid hiccupped, clutching her jersey with both hands. “Papa,” she mumbled, smudging a tear away with the too-long sleeve. “I—I lost my Papa.”

“Okay,” Leo soothed as another tear slipped down her red cheeks; Finn could hear the heartbreak in his voice. “We’re going to find him for you. I’m Leo, and this is my friend Finn. What’s your name?”

Her lower lip wobbled and she stepped back into the corner between the vending machine and the wall. “You don’t have to tell us,” Finn assured her as his heart fractured. “But it might help us find your dad. Do you remember the last time you saw him?”

She sniffled, then readjusted her hair bow and nodded. “The big door in the middle. There were lotsa people.”

Main entrance. “How long have you been here?”

More tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “I—I don’t know, there were people, I just want my Papa!”

Leo shushed her softly; Finn felt their hands brush and gave him a light squeeze of comfort. “We’re going to find him, just like we promised. How about—how about I lift you up, so you can see better? Would that be okay?”

The girl looked between them for a moment, still clutching her jersey—Finn had to take a second when he noticed the 10 stamped on it—before she sniffled and held her arms out to Leo. “My Papa has red hair, like your friend’s.”

“Alright, pumpkin,” Leo said as he lifted her up.

Finn caught the moment he broke character, closing his eyes for just a second when she settled on his hip. I know, baby, he wanted to say. I don’t know what I’d do if it was our kid who got lost, either. “You were by the big doors?”

“Mhmm.”

Finn kept a careful eye out for red hair, but between the shimmering red and gold and sheer amount of people packed in for a Saturday night game, he may as well have been looking for a needle in a stack of needles. “Was your papa wearing a jersey?”

“Yeah.” They shared a look as she snuggled into Leo’s chest. His eyes were a little watery, and Finn scooted closer to rub his back with a featherlight kiss to his shoulder.

“Was it like yours?” Leo asked.

“Tremzy’s our favorite.”

“I think Tremzy’s everyone’s favorite,” Finn half-laughed. It would be easier to find a Tremblay jersey than a Black one, at least. Still, there was too much movement from that first wave to see much more than bumping and jostling. “What’s your papa’s name?”

“Um…” The little girl bit her lip, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt for a moment. A look of intense concentration furrowed her brow. “Mama calls him ‘sweetheart’, sometimes. Oh, and ‘Danny’. I think either of those would work.”

“I think—I think we’ll try ‘Danny’, first,” Leo said with a cough to hide his smile as Finn stifled his snort. “Hazry?”

“I’m going to be loud for a second, so you might want to cover your ears,” Finn informed her before cupping his hands around his mouth. “Danny!” he shouted, causing several people close to them to jump. “Is there a Danny in the crowd? If there is a Danny wearing a Tremblay jersey, please come to the vending machines immediately!”

The unending push toward the main doors halted for a few seconds—people turned left and right in clear confusion, their voices rising to a hum that made the little girl wince even with her hands over her ears. He saw more than one person look down at their jersey just to double-check the name and number.

Then there was a burst of movement near the double-doors leading into the rink and Finn saw a flash of red-blond hair pushing against the current. The tension in his chest released, bringing a long exhale out with it. “Does your papa wear glasses?” Leo asked, and the girl nodded without hesitation. “Okay, peaches, I think we found him.”

Finn met the man halfway, ushering people to the sides. “Are you—”

“I’m looking for my daughter,” he interrupted, breathing hard. His hands shook when he ran them through his hair. “She’s five years old, about this tall, has a big bow in her hair?”

“Oh, thank god,” Finn sighed, taking him by the shoulder. “This way. We found her about five minutes ago.”

“Where?” the man demanded.

“She was hiding by the vending machines—"

“Papa!” the little girl squealed the second she spotted them, squirming down from Leo’s arms to launch herself at her father. He silently knelt to catch her, his face crumpling as he held her close with one hand on her back and the other cradling her head with unbridled care. Finn couldn’t bring himself to watch; Leo startled a little when he wrapped an arm around him, blinking back tears that made his blue eyes bright.

“I’m not mad,” the man soothed, gathering his daughter up onto his hip as he stood and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Her high voice trailed off and she hid in his shoulder, visibly calming. “Accidents happen. I’m just glad you’re safe. Are you okay?”

She nodded, both arms wrapped around his neck. Finn didn’t realize how much he was waiting for that answer as well until she gave it.

He tried for a smile when the man turned. “Smart kid,” he managed, clearing his throat. “She—yeah, she stayed out of the crowd and knew all the stranger danger stuff.”

But the man didn’t answer right away—his dark eyes, a mirror of his daughters, lingered on them for a long moment before he looked away and kissed her forehead. “Did you say thank you, bug?”

She peeked out at them and offered a small, shy smile that made Finn want to wrap her up in a blanket and give her all the unicorns and cookies she wanted. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Leo said softly.

“Course, kiddo.” He bent to offer a fist bump, and from that angle, it was terribly easy to imagine a toddler tucked up against a Tremblay jersey that belonged to the man himself. It would happen someday—he’d come home from whatever he did after retirement to a family of their own, one or two or three kids plus his favorite people in the world. Her little hand nudged his own, and Finn had to take a deep breath when he straightened.

“Thank you,” her father said. “I’ve—there are no words. You’re good people.”

“We try,” Finn said weakly.

He looked at them for a moment longer, then nodded. He didn’t say another word as they headed back into the crowd, vanishing among the hundreds upon hundreds that had packed into the rink to start their weekend off right. Maybe it was past the kid’s bedtime. Maybe her mother waiting at home for them, oblivious to the harrowing experience they had just gone through. Maybe it was just the pair in a downtown apartment. Finn loved the fans, but he had never thought much about them outside the bleachers before.

Leo sniffed. “She was so tiny.”

“Oh my god, I know,” Finn breathed, turning away from the crowd. “And her little hair bow—”

“Her hair bow,” Leo said plaintively. “Fuck, I want one.”

“A hair bow?”

“A baby.”

Finn kissed his cheek, folding their hands together. “Later, sweetheart. We’ve got time.“

Chapter 20: Safe in Your Arms

Summary:

Sirius has a nightmare

Link to podfic by ashata: https://archiveofourown.info/works/41475624

Chapter Text

The warmth of Remus’ weight on his lap. The softness of his lips as he smiled against Sirius’ cheek. The gentle press of his hands against his hips. The flash of a camera.

The flash of a camera.

Bright white airport lights.

James’ shocked face, twisting in disgust.

Shouting voices, clawing hands, cold.

The humming of the plane’s engine couldn’t drown out the screaming, the shouting, that surrounded Sirius.

I can’t be with you anymore.

You said we’d be careful.

I hate you I hate you I hate you

“I love you!” Sirius gasped, bolting upright into darkness. His heart was pounding in his throat; he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead and spine. I hate you I hate you I hate you. “No,” he panted, scrambling at the sheets that tangled his legs. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

“Baby?” The sleep-slurred, pillow-muffled voice froze Sirius mid-kick and a warm hand landed clumsily on his forearm. “Wuh’s wrong?”

“Remus?”

“ ‘s me.”

“You love me, right?”

Remus’ hand stopped patting his arm—god, Sirius loved it when he did that, when he was too tired to properly hold his hand—and sat up, rubbing his face in the dark. “Of course I love you, baby.”

“Okay. I love you, too.”

“Sirius, what’s wrong?” Remus sounded far more awake now and Sirius felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He hadn’t meant to wake him so abruptly.

“It’s nothing, I’m good now, go back to sleep.”

“Hey.”

So many people had tried and failed to describe Remus, both in the media and in their everyday lives. Athletic, they said. Smart. Friendly. Kind. Brave. Funny. Hot Guy on the Bench. Eye candy. Sirius agreed with 90 percent of their observations, but they always seemed to forget the most important one: time after time, Remus was relentlessly gentle. With one word, he could make Sirius walls crumble down. “Nightmare. I’m okay now.”

“You’re shaking.” A moment of silence, then a hand settling between his shoulder blades to tap out a nonsense rhythm. Sirius had asked, once, if Remus was doing Morse Code; no, he had laughed. I just like doing it. I can feel your heartbeat there. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“The pictures again,” Sirius admitted. The rhythm stopped and changed to slow circles. It had taken months for both of them to be able to get in a car again without looking over their shoulders, and he knew Remus still got nervous in airports, flipping his phone around in his hand. “It was—we were in the car, and there was a camera flash, and then the airport, and—” And Pots hated me, you hated me.

“Sirius, what happened?” Relentlessly gentle.

“You said you hated me.” I love you. “That we couldn’t be together anymore.”

Remus made a soft sound like his heart was breaking and Sirius felt pressure behind his eyes. Get it together, Black, it was just a dream. “C’mere.” Remus’ hand curled around his shoulder and tugged him back down until he was laying with his forehead pressed into Remus’ collarbones. “I love you, Sirius Black. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’m not going to stop.”

Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist and held him tight as the last wisps of the nightmare shuddered through him. “I know. It just felt so real.”

“Hear my heartbeat?” Sirius closed his eyes and nodded. He could already feel the beginnings of sleep trickling back in. “Just focus on that.”

Thump. I love you. Thump. I’m here. Thump. I’ve got you. Thump. Hold me.

Thump. This sound is just for you.

Chapter 21: Panic

Summary:

Remus and Logan have a skating accident

TW minor injury

Chapter Text

The world was hazy and smudged and Remus was cold. Why was he so cold? His pads should have protected him from any chill on the ice. Someone groaned next to him; he couldn’t hear much over the other voices that tripped over one another in their haste to reach him.

“Re? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” I know you. “Remus, can you hear me?”

“Sirius,” he slurred out. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t you dare ‘hey baby’ me right now, you scared the shit out of me.” There was a heavy thud, like someone sitting down. “Can you sit up?”

“Yeah, of course I—” Remus pushed himself up on his forearms, doing his best to ignore the spinning world, only to find that he couldn’t move his legs. “Legs. Sirius, legs, can’t move my legs what the fuck?”

“Shit, sorry, that’s my fault. Don’t move.” The dark blur that was Sirius blocked his view of his legs, which did nothing to quell Remus’ rapidly-rising panic. There was a clinking noise and the pressure released from his calves, but it was too late.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, what happened?”

“You and Logan got your skates tangled and went down.” Remus remembered that, vaguely. The scratch of blades on ice, the puck on his stick, glancing down at it for a second too long, then wide eyes and a hard smack and—

A hard shiver wracked his body. If he couldn’t feel his legs, he couldn’t play. All that hard work only to throw it away because of a stupid mistake during practice. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he could taste the bitterness of an oncoming panic attack behind his teeth. What if Logan was hurt? Had he ruined Logan’s career like he ruined his own?

“Remus, you have to stay calm, alright? Your body can’t handle panic right now.” Sirius’ voice had taken on that fragile edge that it did whenever he was worried.

“Why not? What’s wrong with it?”

“Eyes on me, honey.” Remus blinked hard and tried to dispel the fuzziness in his vision. Slowly, in agonizing shifts that made his ears buzz, Sirius’ face slid into focus. His helmet was off, and while he looked a little pale, there was no outright terror. That soothed Remus a bit; Sirius would tell him if there was something truly wrong. “You got your bell rung on the way down. Your legs are fine. Logan is fine. You couldn’t move because your skates were still locked together. This was an accident and not your fault.”

Remus’ slow exhale was pathetic, but it was there. “Lo, you good?”

“Bruised and dizzy, but good.” Logan said to his right.

A solid amount of his prior terror rushed away and he leaned back against the wall. His vision was clearing faster now, and his head felt less like a marching band was clambering through it. “Let’s not do that again, okay?”

Logan smacked him in the thigh, then grabbed his hand and shook it weakly. He was still flat on his back with his eyes closed, but he was smiling a little. “Deal. Ugh.”

“Hestia’s waiting for both of you in the PT room,” Coach Weasley said. Remus squinted up at him and winced a little at the fluorescent lights. “Get a move on, I can’t lose two of my star players to a damn scrimmage.”

“Yes, Coach,” they chorused. Sirius’ hands were firm on his forearms as he hauled Remus to his feet—he only swayed a little on the way up, compared to Logan who fell directly into Finn’s arms.

“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” Finn sighed, though he couldn’t suppress a smile.

Chapter 22: Breakdown

Summary:

Sirius vs media pressure

Chapter Text

“Sirius. Sirius.”

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

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re scowling.”

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

“Are you ready to head out?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Ten minutes?”

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

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

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Good.”

“I think I just need some food.”

“And sleep.”

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

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

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

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

D’accord.”

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

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

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

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

“What happened? You’re not okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Apology accepted. What are you looking for?”

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

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Very sure.”

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

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

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

“You are.”

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

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

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

“I think you do.”

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

“But you’re not.”

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

“The reporters don’t matter.”

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

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

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

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

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

“Can I hold you?”

His smile wobbled. “Please do.”

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

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

Chapter 23: What We Deserve

Summary:

Remus in a depressive episode

**TW depression, negative self-talk

Chapter Text

Remus should have known better.

At least, that’s what he told himself. He should have known better than to stay those extra few minutes at the hospital, should have known better than to linger in the sports medicine ward.

But there he was, laying wide awake at 3 in the morning with the scent of antiseptic still burning in his nose despite the lavender candle on Sirius’ nightstand and their freshly-washed sheets. Sirius snored lightly behind him; Remus was exhausted down to his bone marrow, but his eyes refused to close. This is what you get for trying to help. This is what happens when you think you’re finally healed. You’re damaged goods, Lupin, and you don’t deserve all this.

Sirius snuffled in his sleep and nuzzled between Remus’ shoulder blades with a gentle sigh. His heart ached, suddenly and viciously—who was he to try and claim someone so radiant? How could he ever repay Sirius for everything he took? It wasn’t like he had anything worth giving.

He didn’t sleep that night, instead watching the dawn come raw and red between the slats of their blinds. Sirius inhaled slowly as he woke; sometime during Remus’ previous blink, two hours had passed and the sun was out of sight.

“Re?” a soft, accented voice murmured. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deep. There was no need to burden him. Sirius hummed and kissed the back of his neck; the steady rumble of his chest was soothing, like Remus’ own personal thunderstorm.

The heavy fog over his brain settled in fully by nine, and still Remus had not moved. He was too warm beneath the blankets and the tangled sheets were slowly driving him nuts, but he wasn’t strong enough to move his leaden limbs.

“Sweetheart. Are you up?” There was a gentle knock at the door and Sirius poked his head in. “Bonne matin.”

“Hey, you.” Get up, get up, get up. With Herculean effort, Remus dragged himself into a slumped sitting position.

Sirius faltered. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” Remus lied, forcing a smile. “Didn’t sleep well.”

The bed creaked as Sirius sat down and reached up to feel his forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re warm.”

I’m burning.

Don’t bother him.

“Really, I’m okay.” He took Sirius’ hand and pulled it down to his lap.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

The mere thought of food made his stomach turn and he shook his head. “I think I’m just going to try and sleep for a bit. What time do we have practice?”

“We’re off this week, remember?”

“Right.” Remus ran a hand down his face, wincing at how sweaty he was. “Right, sorry, yeah.”

“What’s going on, Re?” Sirius asked. His thumb ran over Remus’ knuckles, but he couldn’t feel it. He could see them in his mind’s eye: Sirius, beautiful and strong, doing his goddamn best to hold together Remus, the lost cause. “Remus?”

“Sorry, what?” Remus blinked as he came back to reality. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“That’s what you said earlier, but I don’t think I believe you.”

“I’m sorry.” Listen to yourself, you’re like a broken record.

“Hey, it’s okay, mon coeur.” Sirius’ hands moved to his face and came away damp; when had he started crying, again? “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah, it’s alright, you should go have breakfast—”

“Remus.” The softness of his voice broke something deep in Remus’ chest and a choked whine escaped.

Why do you talk to me like that?

“Because I love you and I’m worried.” Remus clenched his teeth; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Re, please tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he snapped, voice cracking. “There’s nothing you can do about this.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden wave of frustration, but he could still see the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. God, he had smelled horrible when he woke up in those crisp, itchy sheets, like rubbing alcohol and fear. His shoulder wasn’t torn apart anymore—destroyed, we’re so sorry—but something else was.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been broken for years and you deserve better.” Around the bitter taste of orange Jell-O, there was something salty.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

Why not?” He couldn’t look Sirius in the eyes. He knew what he would only see forgiveness, undeserved forgiveness that he couldn’t handle. “You could have anyone in the world, Sirius. Do you understand that? You could have someone beautiful and perfect—”

“Remus.” A steady hand cradled his jaw and he froze. “Remus, I don’t want perfect.”

“You deserve perfect,” he croaked. “You deserve so much more than I can give you.”

“You give me everything I need and more, sweetheart.”

“You deserve someone who doesn’t sleep on the couch for a week because they were scared of loving you.”

“We were both scared, and I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

“Sirius, you deserve someone who isn’t in pieces all the time.”

Sirius made a low, sad sound and pulled him close to his side, resting his forehead on his temple. “Let me decide what I deserve, okay? We’re both a little broken and we love each other anyway.”

“How can you say that?” Remus clutched the hand draped over his shoulder. He could feel Sirius’ heartbeat.

“Remus, my parents were horrible. I get nervous when people move too fast and had an anxiety attack when coach yelled last week. Do you still love me?”

“Of course I do,” he said immediately, turning to hold Sirius’ face between his palms. “Of course I love you, none of that was your fault.”

“There’s your answer.” Sirius leaned into the touch and kissed his forearm. “I love you for all of it, Re. Every second, every argument, everything. There is nobody else I want more than you and you are worthy of it all.”

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled back the tears and snot. Ugh. “My brain just…”

“I know. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Sirius flipped back the covers and scooted beneath, shifting around until the sheets were straight again. He stared up at Remus with absolute affection in his eyes; there was no pity, no exasperation.

Remus slid down with a sigh. “We have things we need to do.”

“Right now, we’re going to do what we need to do to make you feel better.” Sirius paused. “Do you know what triggered it?”

“The hospital,” Remus said quietly. “The smell, the lights…it reminded me of a lot, and now I just feel shitty. Please don’t feel like you have to stay here.”

“I’m here because I want to be here.” Sirius opened his arms. “Cuddle?”

“Can I hold your hand instead?”

The fog was returning, but Sirius’ hand was solid in his own, an anchor against the rolling tide. Like the tide, this exhaustion would loom and frighten and threaten to drag him under, but it would also pass, and Sirius would be with him through it all.

Chapter 24: Knockout

Summary:

Sirius gets knocked unconscious during a game

Chapter Text

Sirius hit the ice, and he didn’t get up.

Remus’ heart skipped a beat.

He was next to him in an instant, gloves and helmet long forgotten as he carefully unbuckled Sirius’ chin strap. A fight had broken out behind him, but he tuned it out—he knew this process. He was trained for this.

But this was Sirius he was holding, Sirius whose eyes were still fucking closed and even though his breathing was steady he was limp in Remus’ arms.

Pulse. Check.

Eyes. Glassy under the eyelids.

Patient nonresponsive to his name or touch.

Stop shaking, Remus ordered his hands as he worked through his list. Stop it right now. You have a degree, you were trained for this.

“Mr. Lupin, please move so we can take a look,” a new voice said.

“I’m helping.”

“Mr. Lupin, we’re the medics here—”

“I’m helping,” Remus snapped. “His breathing is even but he’s nonresponsive, possible concussion.”

“We need to make room for the medics.”

“I am the fucking medic.”

Emmeline’s hand was gentle but firm on his bicep. “Remus, you’re a player now. Let us do our job. We’ll take good care of him.”

“Let me help.” Why is my voice breaking? I’m perfectly calm. “Please, let me help.”

“You already did.” Slowly, he scooted aside so she could kneel by Sirius’ shoulder and run the same tests Remus had just cleared him for.

“I already did that—”

“Remus.”

“I’m sorry.” The fingers that laid cold in his palm twitched and Remus immediately leaned forward again as Sirius’ eyes opened. “Sirius? Sirius, can you hear me?”

Sirius muttered something and Emmeline glanced behind Remus; a moment later, he felt someone’s hands pulling him up from under his arms. “Come on, Loops, give them space,” James murmured.

“Let go, I can help.” Remus struggled, but James’ arm was a steel bar across his chest as he skated backwards a few feet. Sirius was looking around now, answering questions with a dizzy expression. “James, he needs me—he needs me, I can help.”

“The best thing you can do is take some deep breaths with me. In and out, Re, in and out.”

Sirius stood on unsteady legs and leaned on the medics for support as they practically carried him off the ice; the rest of the team skated after them at a safe distance, all clearly worried. No limp, no wincing, red cheeks, headache? Concussion? No broken bones, no soft tissue damage, please God let him be alright. Something warm trickled down Remus’ chin. “I can help.”

“You already did.”

“Stop it,” he said harshly. “Stop it, don’t tell me that. I can do more, I have to do more, it’s my job.”

“No, it’s not.”

“He’s my—” Remus’ voice gave out. “He’s Sirius.”

“I know.”

Logan was skating back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of the bench, his eyes locked on Sirius’ retreating back. The hit replayed in Remus’ mind—clean, fast, brutal. A simple trip over a misplaced stick, then Sirius flying headfirst into the boards and going limp as the dumb fucking rookie scrambled to his feet.

Dumo went over and led Logan into a side hug by his elbow. A tremor visibly ran through Logan’s body and Remus went cold. Had he missed something? What was it? What test didn’t he run—

“Sit with me.” It wasn’t a question. He nodded, and James guided him to the bench, past Logan and Dumo as they talked quietly in French.

“Lupin, are you alright?” Coach asked before they even came off the ice.

“They wouldn’t let me help,” he said weakly.

Something akin to pity crossed his face. “We’ve got six minutes left. Sit this one out.”

“I can play.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Will someone please just let me be useful?” Remus startled himself a bit with his volume and felt James’ hands go slack with surprise on his arms. He swiped furiously at the sweat—not sweat, it felt different—that covered his cheeks. “Please, Coach.”

“You’re done for this game,” Arthur repeated, though his voice was kind. Remus wanted to hate it, but he couldn’t. “We’ll keep you updated. Pots, go get Tremzy off the ice. You’re on for this shift.”

“Yes, Coach,” James said, giving Remus a quick squeeze. “Deep breaths. He’ll be alright.”

——————————

Sirius was still in the PT room when the final buzzer went off; Lions win, 3-2. Remus barely got his pads off before he went running down the hall with Logan hot on his heels, leaving their gear scattered haphazardly in their stalls.

Emmeline was just closing the door when they arrived. “Can we see him? Is he okay? Concussion protocol was updated so my tests might not have been enough but is he still awake?” Remus blurted out in a single rushed breath.

She didn’t miss a beat. “He’s up and talking. We think it’s a very mild concussion that just hit a little weird and knocked him around.” Logan’s grip tightened on his forearm and her eyes flickered down to it. “Both of you can relax. You’re welcome to go in if you like.”

They were halfway through the door before she was even done speaking. Sirius was sitting upright on the PT table, still in his under armour and holding an ice pack to the side of his head. He lit up when he saw them. “Hey, I was just—”

“Are you okay?” Remus demanded. He pulled the ice away and prodded the bruised skin, then stared directly into Sirius’ eyes to check for any lack of focus. He looked alert, which was a good sign. “You look worried. Does it hurt? Are the lights—”

“Re.” His hand folded over Remus’, and tears clogged his throat. “I’m fine. Emmeline and the team cleared me, and Hestia did all the tests. Did we win?”

“Yeah,” Logan said quietly. “Coach didn’t let either of us back on the ice.”

“Who fucking cares about the game?” Anger flared in Remus, hot and sudden. “You were unconscious.”

Sirius remained infuriatingly calm. “I was.”

“You—you hit the boards and you didn’t get up.” Eyes not open. Breathing shallow, but even. Heart rate steady. Follow the process. “Sirius, you didn’t get up.”

“I promise I’m okay.” He reached out and pulled Remus close, rubbing small circles on his back with one hand and reeling Logan in with the other. “It was a rough hit, that’s all.”

“They wouldn’t let me help you,” Remus whispered. His voice was muffled in Sirius’ shoulder and he tucked his face into his neck, holding him even tighter. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Sirius placed a small kiss behind his ear. “Est-ce que ça va, Tremz?”

“Ouais, plus bien maintenant.” They shifted slightly as Logan pressed his forehead to Sirius’ with a sniffle. “Don’t fucking do that again.”

“Seconded,” Remus muttered.

“Got it,” Sirius laughed lightly, kissing the tops of both their heads before releasing them. His eyebrows rose as he spotted something over their shoulders. “Um, hello.”

“Hey,” nine Lions said from the doorway. Emmeline looked mildly amused at their sardine-crammed position. James drummed his fingers on the doorframe and tapped his foot at the same time; if they didn’t come over in the next five seconds, Remus was afraid he might explode.

“Is our turn now?” Kuny ventured, standing on his tiptoes to see over the rest. “Cap still okay? Not hugged to dead?”

“Death,” Nado corrected quietly.

“Cap not hugged to death?”

“Really, I’m fine,” Sirius laughed as they all tumbled inside, rushing to check in on him. Remus noticed Logan place himself like a brick wall if someone got too close to Sirius and felt a wave of affection go all the way down to his toes.

“Give him space,” Emmeline reminded them from the door. “The concussion is mild, but it’s there.”

“I would love to see you try to get those boys out of here,” Hestia snorted as she entered. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Remus and he nodded to her; she winked and shot him a quick smile before grabbing the clipboard off the wall.

“Treatment plan?” he guessed as she tore a piece of paper off and handed it to him. Dumo was still hugging Sirius in a vice grip.

“It’s so nice to have someone who understands this stuff,” she sighed. “Pretty easy, to be honest. I’ve written a few reminders, but you know the drill.”

“Thank you, Hestia. Really.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “I promised to take care of your boys, didn’t I? Have a little faith, Loops.”

“I have so much faith in you it’s embarrassing.”

She laughed at that, throwing her head back and clapping him on the shoulder. “I guess that’s what happens when someone tapes your face back together, huh?”

“Exactly. Can I take him home now?”

“Go easy for the next couple weeks,” she teased.

Remus rolled his eyes and stuck the paper in his back pocket. “Alright, alright, very funny.”

“You should probably go home and get some rest, though. He’s not allowed on the ice for the rest of the week and I, for one, don’t want to be the person breaking that particular news.”

What?” She left with a final kiss blown in his direction; unfortunately, Sirius did not seem to have overheard her. “Wait, you don’t get to just leave! That’s such a cop out!”

“What’s a cop out?” Sirius asked.

Remus closed his eyes and huffed. This is going to be fun.

Chapter 25: Bounce Back

Summary:

Sequel to Knockout (prev)--O'Knutzy comes to visit

Chapter Text

“Give them back.”

“No.”

“Remus, give them back.”

“Not until you look me in the eyes and promise.” Remus held the skates further out of Sirius’ reach, scooting back on the counter.

Sirius sighed. “Remus, I promi—”

“Look me in the eyes.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you with everything except this,” Remus said, setting the skates down in his lap. “Baby, I know you want to be out on the ice so bad, but it’s only been a few days. You have to rest so you can get better.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip, but nodded and looked Remus in the eyes. “Remus, I promise not to skate for the next full week.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a mild concussion and was knocked unconscious at our last game.”

Remus took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Sirius. I know it seems stupid but it’s so important.”

“Can I have my skates back?” Remus rolled his eyes, but handed them back over and kissed Sirius’ forehead before hopping off the countertop. “How long until Leo gets here?”

“Five min—” The doorbell rang and both of them raised their eyebrows. “Now, I guess.”

Leo was not alone when they opened the door. “Why are you up?” Logan demanded immediately. “Aller se coucher, idiot! Loops, you know better.”

“C’est bénin!” Sirius protested, slapping at Logan’s hands as he pushed him backwards by the shoulders. Logan, being a miniature freight train, didn’t slow down until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he laid down with a huff. “Idiot.”

Logan narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms at the other end of the sofa. “Don’t move.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re stupid, is what you are.”

“It was an accident.” Sirius kicked him lightly in the stomach.

“Don’t kick me!”

“And now they’re yelling in French,” Finn sighed from the doorway. “Wonderful.”

“It’s quite entertaining, actually,” Leo said with a small smile as Remus hid his laughter behind his hand. “Lo just called him stupid.”

Sirius shook his head, then grimaced as it made him dizzy. “Thank you for bringing the soup, rookie.”

Leo shrugged. “It’s tradition. I bring soup, Lo yells with deep affection, and Fish is here for moral support. We’re a mini hype squad.”

“If we get Regulus in here, it’ll be a party,” Remus remarked; Sirius didn’t like that he only sounded half-joking as he and the others headed into the kitchen. “Thank you for finally getting him to sit down, Tremz.”

Logan’s frown deepened. “You’re not listening to Loops?” Sirius pulled a face at him. “He’s your fiancé! The love and light of your life who also has a fucking medical degree! If you weren’t already concussed, I’d hit you.”

“Ha! Immunity.” A balled-up tissue smacked him in the face two seconds later. “Honey, Logan’s being mean!”

“Did you deserve it?”

Oui!” Logan called before Sirius could answer.

Sirius scowled. “I could kick you out of my house so fast.”

“But you won’t. Scoot over, I want cuddles.” Half of Logan’s shoulder hung off the edge, even though Sirius turned on his side to make room. There was a moment of quiet. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Non, it’s—” Logan stopped for a moment and bumped their foreheads together. “Don’t do that again, d’accord? Watching you fall and not get up was one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Lo—”

Logan shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Just be careful and listen to Loops, since he knows what he’s talking about.”

“I know he does.” Sirius let Logan snuggle into his chest and rested his chin on the top of his head. “It’s hard to slow down when people tell you to, though.”

“It is. We missed you at practice today.” A deep well of affection warmed in Sirius’ chest. “Pots is doing great, though. You should be proud of him.”

“Are you going to start calling him Cap now?” Sirius teased.

“Never. I’m still going to call you Cap when I’m stealing the tennis balls off your walker.”

Laughing made Sirius’ head hurt a little bit, but he couldn’t hold it down at that mental image. The smell of soup drifted out of the kitchen along with snippets of conversation as Logan sat up and dragged the couch blanket on top of him, tucking him in with almost aggressive force. “Merci beaucoup.”

Logan poked his nose. “Don’t move.”

Chapter 26: Yellow, Red

Summary:

Remus uses the safeword

**TW for smut at the beginning (not graphic), blindfold

Chapter Text

There was something about the blindfold. Sirius was doing wonderful things further down, running his mouth along Remus’ ribs and grinding his hips in the slow rolls that usually drove him crazy, but something prodded at the edge of Remus’ mind. He blinked and made a face at the feeling of his eyelashes sliding against the fabric; he turned his head to the side, and his neck itched as the small knot moved.

“You’re quiet today,” Sirius murmured. Remus’ stomach jolted as a warm mouth attached to his hipbone and nipped a light hickey just above the waistband of his boxers, and for a brief, terrible moment, he wanted nothing to touch him ever again. Sirius’ hands were too hot on his body, his mouth too damp and unpredictable. Even the sheets were just this side of wrong.

Remus tried to look around, but the whole world was black through the soft strip of fabric. They had been careful to get it on just right and Remus had been so sure he would enjoy it. How different was it from a gag, after all?

One hand vanished from his chest and then reappeared on his mid-thigh. It wasn’t quite fear that trickled ice-cold down his spine, but something wasn’t right. He took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. Sirius had been excited about this. Remus had been excited about this. Just grit your teeth and get through

“Yellow,” he blurted, shoving himself further up the bed and fumbling to get the blindfold off. “Yellow, yellow.”

“What?” This fucking knot, get it off get it off get it off. “Remus, are you okay?”

He finally gave up on the knot and yanked the blindfold over his head, breathing heavily; he could feel his hands shaking as he drew his knees up. “Yeah, yeah, all good. Just—just needed a break,” he panted as sudden nausea made goosebumps erupt on his skin.

Sirius looked more than a little concerned. “This feels like red, not yellow.”

Remus shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Sirius reached out to touch his knee and he flinched away. “Re, what’s wrong?”

After a moment of internal conflict, Remus let his head fall back against the headboard with a slow exhale. Every nerve still felt crawly. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because—” He waved a hand around vaguely. “Things were happening. I killed the mood.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. Just please tell me you’re okay.”

Remus sighed and picked at the loose thread at the edge of the blindfold. “I’m alright. I told you I wanted to do this, though.”

Sirius gently tapped his knuckles and Remus glanced up; he didn’t seem upset, just worried. “It’s okay to change your mind. Can you tell me what went wrong so I don’t do it again?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, baby, I just didn’t like this.” He held the blindfold up and Sirius took it from him with careful hands. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat in his ears anymore, which was a good sign. “I want—I want to see you and know what’s going to happen next. I trust you with everything, but I don’t like losing the confirmation that it’s you.”

Sirius rubbed soothing circles into the side of his knee with his thumb and the touch anchored Remus a bit. “I’m sorry for not checking in more.”

Remus shook his head and, after a beat of silence, scooted closer to Sirius, who wrapped him in a tight hug and kissed the top of his head. “I feel gross,” he muttered.

“Should we take a shower and go to bed?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

He didn’t let go of Sirius’ hand all the way into the shower and only stepped back when the water was hot, though he didn’t close his eyes under the spray like usual. Sirius grabbed his shampoo of the shelf and opened it to pour into his hand, but Remus gently tugged it away.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Instead of washing his own hair, Remus turned Sirius around and kissed the crest of his shoulder, holding his lips there for a moment. The tension melted from Sirius’ whole back as Remus laced his fingers in his hair, combing through with honey-lavender that made the steam smell like heaven. “I love your hair.”

“I know you do.” There was a smile in his voice and Remus kissed the top notch of his spine.

“Close your eyes,” he said quietly, pulling Sirius under the showerhead by his hips to wash the shampoo out. “You need a haircut, baby.”

“Who, me?” Sirius smoothed the front of his hair down—it was long enough that it completely covered his eyes and half his nose when it was water-straight instead of fluffy curls. “I feel like a sheepdog.”

“You look like one, too,” Remus teased, laughing as Sirius snatched the shampoo away and reached out to tickle his ribs. “Hey!”

“Alright, your turn.” Sirius pushed his hair into a wonky cowlick and uncapped the bottle, then raised his eyebrows. “Is it cool with you if I do it?”

“A hundred percent,” Remus said without hesitation. He turned around and took a slow breath that turned into a sigh as Sirius’ hands slid through his hair. “That’s good.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Loads.”

“I’m really sorry for not checking in more.”

Remus shrugged. “Live and learn, right? I’m sorry for not saying something sooner.” For a moment, the only sound was the water running down into the tub. “What’s on your mind, love?”

“You haven’t felt like this before, have you? With other stuff we tried?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not yet. I guess this was a learning moment, huh?”

Remus chewed his lip for a moment as he closed his eyes to let the soap wash away. “I meant red, not yellow.”

“I could tell.” A little bit of sadness leaked into Sirius’ voice.

“I didn’t want to kill the mood, but I was done.”

A hand pulled lightly on his shoulder and Remus turned around; Sirius cupped his jaw in his palms and made direct eye contact. “I will never, ever be upset with you for changing your mind. If you’re uncomfortable, please tell me.”

Remus curled his hand around Sirius’ and leaned their foreheads together. “Same goes for you.”

“Are you up for cuddles or do you need space?”

Remus turned the shower off and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ torso, nuzzling against his damp chest. He was tempted to say space, but he knew that contact would be the best idea in the long run; Sirius had a way of grounding him to reality, and after the jumpy nervousness from earlier, he wanted that reassurance. “Cuddles.”

D’accord.”

They both shivered a bit as they stepped out of the steam-warmed bathroom and went back to bed, tangling their legs beneath the sheets. Remus rested his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder and breathed in the clean smell of him, running a palm in a steady oval over his abdomen. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Sirius gave him a little squeeze and kissed his forehead. The blindfold laid somewhere on the floor behind Remus and he closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against soft skin. Sirius was warm and solid—there was nowhere Remus felt safer as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 27: Call It Off

Summary:

Sirius uses the safeword

**TW for smut at the beginning

Chapter Text

After the blindfold incident, Remus and Sirius had agreed to make a formal safeword instead of sticking with traffic lights, just in case they had another red/ yellow issue. If we’re using a safeword at all, that usually means red, Remus had said when they were figuring it out.

Sirius was glad they had agreed on that, now. He was pleasantly stretched—which had felt so nice after a week and a half of celibacy due to their busy schedule—when a sudden wave of shivers crawled up his spine. The tie around his wrists itched and was unusually restrictive; it had felt fine mere minutes before, but it wasn’t quite right anymore, which was odd. Every other time they used it, he felt like someone had lit him up from the inside.

Remus uncapped the lube again, pressing kisses along his neck and collarbone as he slicked himself. Sirius frowned and tugged at the restraint, feeling it pinch along the joint of his left wrist instead of sending the usual flutter of arousal through his whole body. “Uh, flamingo.”

“Flamingo?” Remus paused just before pushing in and sat back, searching Sirius’ face. “Baby, did you say flamingo?”

“Yep.” He bit his lip and tried to loosen the twist in the center of the tie, failing miserably. “Can you untie me? It’s pinching.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Remus leaned over him and pulled the knot free; his eyebrows pitched up when Sirius winced at the pressure. “Did this just start?”

“Ouias.” Sirius rubbed his wrists and prodded the sensitive skin. “Came out of nowhere.”

“Are you okay?”

“Much better now.” Sirius reached up and pulled Remus down for a cuddle. The sweat was starting to cool on his skin, and his thighs felt a little slimy; Remus was still half-hard against his hip and guilt flickered to life in his gut. “Sorry for—”

“Nope.” Remus pressed his index finger lightly over Sirius’ lips. “If you’re going to apologize for using the safeword, please don’t.”

Sirius kissed the pad. “Okay. Sorry for killing your boner.”

“What did I just tell you?” Remus gave his waist a squeeze and pecked his cheek. “No apologies. Things happen, and I’m glad you spoke up when you were in pain.”

“I wasn’t in pain—”

“You were uncomfortable.”

“I was,” Sirius sighed. “Which is a huge bummer because I’m still kind of horny. Can we rinse off, eat dinner, and then come back to this? I think I need a second to settle again.”

Remus smiled and nuzzled their noses together until Sirius smiled. “Absolutely, baby. How does mac ‘n’ cheese sound?”

Chapter 28: Alarm Bells

Summary:

Sirius has a panic attack at practice

TW for panic attacks (due to ptsd from a bad childhood)

Chapter Text

Arthur was disappointed. Sirius hated it when Arthur was disappointed.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Arthur sighed after a moment, shaking his head. “If anyone has an explanation for that shitshow, I’d love to hear it.” A few beats of silence passed and he pressed his lips together. The guilt was eating Sirius alive. “We’re better than this. I know that, you know that, the Cup we won knows that. Do better next time.”

Be better, be better, be better. The words had been drilled into his mind since he was old enough to hold a stick and he swallowed around the dryness of his mouth. “Sorry, Coach,” James said quietly from his stall.

“I don’t need you to be sorry!” Arthur barked; Sirius’ stomach lurched. “I need you all to get your heads out of your asses and into the game! Tonight was a disgrace to everything you’ve worked hard to build. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Coach,” they muttered.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Coach,” they said again, louder.

Down the hall, a door slammed—Sirius knew it was just Moody closing up for the night, but latent fear lanced through him all the same and he gripped the edge of his seat. Deep breaths, Heather always told him. Breathing is the most important thing you can do to stay in control.

Control. He needed control. He thrived on control.

“Black!” Arthur’s voice was sharp and he winced. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, Coach.” Sirius stood up.

“Then answer the question I just asked.”

Frantically, Sirius wracked his brain. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—nothing. He couldn’t think of anything. The alarm bells started to blare as Arthur walked to his stall, still holding onto his clipboard. “I’m sorry, Coach.”

He tapped the front of Sirius’ jersey. “Do you know why you have that badge?”

“Because—”

“Because you’re supposed to be a role model for this team. You hold them together and you lead well. I’ve seen you do it a million times.”

Finn raised his head. “Coach, this isn’t just on Cap—”

“Save it, O’Hara.” Arthur looked straight at Sirius; his eyes flickered from familiar blue to cold, furious silver faster than Sirius could register. He held his breath and prayed the hit would be light. “You disappointed me tonight, Sirius.”

There it was—the kill stroke. “I’m sorry,” he croaked around the knot in his throat. White-hot adrenaline began dripping into his veins and his breaths grew shallower. Hide it. Hide that weakness. It’s worse if you don’t. In his periphery, he saw Remus straighten up in concern.

“I don’t need your apologies.” Another door slammed. Sirius’ hands started to shake. He could smell the sickly-sweet perfume his mother loved. “I need you to step up and do your job.”

“I’m s—” Sirius bit his lip and choked the words down. Apologies never helped. He braced himself. Something crashed down the hallway and a jumble of voices echoed off the walls like wailing ghosts. The red and gold of the locker room became dark around the edges as his vision tunneled.

“You’re still not listening.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, no wonder everyone was off! I don’t talk just to hear the sound of my own voice, guys!”

“Coach, could you lower your voice a bit?” Pascal asked in an even tone, though Sirius felt his eyes on him. He kept his chin high.

Pascal—” Arthur snapped his mouth shut and threw his clipboard down with a BANG that rattled all the way to Sirius’ core. He flinched back hard.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said under his breath, wincing as his voice cracked. He shouldered past Arthur, feeling his chest tighten painfully on the way out.

Public bathrooms were the worst place to have a breakdown, but at least it was dark, empty, and cool enough to quell the raging heat in his head. He crumpled in the joint between a stall door and its wall, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Come on, deep breaths,” he whispered to himself as salt tinged his lips. “Deep breaths, you can do this.”

If he squeezed his eyes shut hard enough, he could pretend that the trembling fingers combing through his hair were Remus’. That the weight against his side was Dumo, pulling him in for a hug.

“He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it.” Again and again, until his voice finally gave out into shuddering breaths.

The door creaked as it opened and Sirius held his breath, curling into a tighter ball. The lights did not turn on as soft footsteps padded on the tiles. “Sirius? Are you in here?”

His chest hitched and he leaned his head against the metal.

There was a gentle sigh and the footsteps stopped; two feet appeared in the gap. “Can you open the door, love?”

Sirius shook his head, not trusting his voice. A few seconds of silence passed.

“Alright.” Something rustled and the person sat crosslegged in front of the locked door. “What level are you at?”

“Six?” Sirius managed as more tears trickled down his cheeks.

Remus made a quiet noise of sympathy, then laid his hand palm-up on the floor. Sirius hesitated for a moment before lacing their fingers together—the comfort was instantaneous. He let out a wavering exhale as Remus covered his shaking hand with both of his own, tracing his knuckles and fingers with steady lines. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You know what happened.”

“This seems pretty severe for some yelling.”

Sirius cracked a rueful smile in the darkness. “You know me too well.”

“I know you well enough to worry.”

He sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. God, he’d kill a man for a shower. “People were slamming doors and somebody knocked a cart over. He’s—he’s so disappointed in me, Re.”

“He’s upset with all of us,” Remus said firmly. “Every game, no matter how shitty, is a team effort. It wasn’t fair of him to yell at you.”

“I’m the captain.”

“You’re a player. Players share blame. Arthur knows that, and he shouldn’t have gone after you like that.”

I’d rather it be me than you, Sirius didn’t say. “How’d you find me?”

He felt Remus shrug and saw his sweatshirt shift. “It’s where I would go. How are you feeling now?”

Sirius closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He was still a little dizzy and more than a bit exhausted, but the alarms in his head had quieted and he could make out actual shapes in the shadows instead of just blurs. “Maybe a three? Two and a half?”

“Can you unlock the door?” He leaned up with his free hand, never letting go of Remus; the stall door opened with a creak and he shifted to lean against his shoulder, snuggling into the soft warmth. “Hey, baby.”

“I hate that this still happens.”

“You’re working on it, though.” Remus pressed his lips to Sirius’ forehead and a little part of him unraveled into a puddle of affection. “That’s progress.”

He sniffled again and tucked his arms against Remus’ chest, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Remus said without hesitation, pulling him closer. The extra muscle he had put on made Sirius feel so safe, like he was in a cocoon of cuddly bliss. Nothing could touch him there. “Whenever you’re ready, Coach wanted to apologize. We can stay here as long as you want, though.”

“In a minute,” Sirius sighed, breathing in the familiar smell. “Let’s just stay here for a bit.”

Chapter 29: Alarm Bells 2

Summary:

Sequel to prev.; Arthur apologizes

Chapter Text

The door closed with a dull thud. Choking silence fell over the entire room before a cold, brittle, furious voice asked, “what the hell was that?”

Arthur swallowed around the dryness of his mouth and shook his head.

“What the hell was that?” Remus repeated. His temper was rare—Arthur had never seen him truly angry, but the tic at the edge of his jaw told a different story.

“I’m sorry,” he managed as he picked his clipboard up off the floor. “To—to all of you, I’m sorry.”

“I respect you a lot, Coach,” Dumo said, cutting Remus off before he could continue. “But that was out of line. Tonight’s game was bad. We all know that, especially Cap. That doesn’t excuse putting the blame on one person or throwing things.”

“You’re right.” He swallowed again and looked around the rest of the locker room; every other player stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze. Bitterness tinged his teeth—he was acting like the coach he had always promised he wouldn’t be. “I’m disappointed in myself for tonight’s game, and I took it out on all of you. Pascal is right, that wasn’t fair. I hope you can accept my apology and forgive me for losing my temper like that.”

“We’re not the ones you need to ask, though, are we?” James said from his stall without sparing him a glance.

Arthur suppressed a wince. He had been so preoccupied with his frustration at himself that he didn’t even notice the growing tension in Sirius’ body, nor the way he began leaning away as Arthur ranted. The same mask of fear, false control, and misery had painted Sirius’ face as when his mother—god, he looked at Arthur like he looked at that horrible woman—came to forcibly trade him to the Snakes. “You all deserve an apology,” he corrected. “But you’re right.”

“Excuse me for a minute,” Remus muttered as he stood and headed toward the door. They watched him go without a word.

“How can I make this up to you?” Arthur asked.

Finn’s shoulders sagged. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” A door down the hall creaked, and he prayed Sirius wasn’t suffering alone anymore.

“Apologize to Cap,” Dumo said.

“Absolutely.”

“Don’t—” Leo faltered, then pressed his lips together. “Don’t tell us we all share blame as a collective, then make Cap take the weight. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Arthur’s throat tightened. “It is. I never should have done that to any of you.”

A few beats of quiet passed before Kuny raised his hand; Arthur nodded to him. “Don’t yell when angry, please. Very loud. We already know when you are upset.”

“I’m sorry, Evgeni. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Same as Kuny.”

“Can you give us specifics about what we did, next time?”

“Please don’t throw your clipboard.”

“I’ll stay another hour to go through tape, if that’s what it takes.”

“Try not to interrupt us, please.”

For the next five minutes, Arthur noted down every single suggestion he heard; several were followed by murmurs of agreement. “Anyone else?” he finally asked. The boys shook their heads. “Thank you for telling me. I promise I’ll do better in the future, and—”

The knock on the door was soft, but it echoed throughout the room and sent a bolt of nervousness through Arthur’s heart. Remus poked his head in a second later. “Coach, can we borrow you for a second?”

Arthur set his clipboard down and headed into the hall without hesitation.

Sirius…if he was being honest, Sirius was a wreck. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were pink; a tissue was crumpled into little more than atoms in his fist. Still, he kept his chin up. Arthur hated the idea that Sirius thought he needed to brace himself with faux confidence.

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius’ lower lip wobbled once. “Thank you.”

“You kept them going out there even when they were ready to give up. We didn’t win, but we kept playing because of your leadership. Thank you.” He received a curt nod in response and pointedly ignored the tremor in both of Sirius’ hands. “I took my frustration out on you, which was wrong for many reasons, the least of which being that you don’t deserve to be talked to like that. Sirius, I truly am sorry for everything that just happened in there.”

“Apology accepted,” Sirius said. His voice was rough, but steady. “The guys didn’t deserve that, either.”

“I know. I apologized to them as well.”

“Good.” He sniffled once, then held his hand out for Arthur to shake. “In that case, I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

Remus waited by the locker room door with an entirely neutral expression that would have unsettled Arthur if it didn’t melt into something soft and tired when he wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

The gentle buzz of conversation vanished as they entered again; Arthur sent them on their way with wishes for a good night’s sleep and a promise to talk more in the morning, and they trooped out in a tight group. As soon as the last of them disappeared down the hallway, he sat down in the nearest stall with a heavy sigh.

“That was impressive,” a voice remarked from the door. The bench creaked as Moody sat down next to him with a huff. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Figured. Cap forgave you?”

“Thankfully.” Arthur rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. “Christ, Alastor, I sent him into a panic attack.”

“Asking what you can do to be better was a good move for all of them. That’ll serve you well in the long run.”

“I’m just grateful Loops didn’t break my kneecaps,” he laughed humorlessly. He stared down at the clipboard and the notes crammed into the margins for a long moment. “How did I fuck up that badly?”

Moody shrugged. “You’re human. You got upset. Don’t do it again. While you were in the hall, they were all saying how you didn’t seem like yourself, so I’d take that as a sign you’re doing something right. Just pay attention next time, and take some deep breaths.”

“You sound like Molly.”

A heavy hand landed on the back of his shoulder and gave him a light shake. “She’s a smart woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my candy jar isn’t empty again. You have a team of locusts, Weasley.”

Arthur smiled at his retreating back. “Yeah, but they’re our locusts. You know you love ‘em.”

Moody’s glare was nothing but fond.

Chapter 30: Spotty

Summary:

Leo is insecure about his acne

Chapter Text

“Baby, come on,” Finn said quietly from the doorway.

Leo jumped and nearly bumped his head on the faucet—the sound of running water had completely muffled Finn’s footsteps. “Jesus, Fish, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” Finn leaned on the doorframe and gave Leo the same look he had been giving him for three days now. “We talked about this.”

“Just—just one more minute, I’m almost done,” he said, cupping his hands under the water. Finn reached over and shut the tap off, still staring at him.

“Leo.”

“Can I at least finish rinsing the soap off my face?” he asked irritably.

“There’s no soap on your face anymore.”

Leo huffed and grabbed a towel, but his eyes caught on the mirror for half a second too long and he felt a jolt in his stomach. “I almost had it.”

“You’re hurting your skin, honey.” Finn’s voice was soft and nonjudgmental—it grated on Leo’s nerves.

“I put moisturizer on.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then just drop it, Finn!” Leo snapped as he headed into the kitchen. Finn’s face fell and he immediately felt all the fight rain out of him in a rush. “I’m sorry.”

Logan looked up from the apple he was slicing. “We’re worried about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s just some acne.”

“That’s why we’re worried.” Finn’s eyes searched his face; a fierce and sudden guilt twinged in Leo’s gut. It hurt almost as much as the red bumps all over his face. “It’s just acne, Leo. It happens to everyone.”

“It’s ugly,” Leo mumbled, grabbing an apple slice.

Quiet footsteps padded over, and then Logan was resting his head on Leo’s shoulder with a brush of a kiss. “We don’t think it’s ugly, mon amour. You’re beautiful.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Nobody does.”

He set the knife down and bit his lip, forcing down the urge to itch his cheeks. That would only make them hurt and bleed, and he felt shitty enough as it was. “I feel like a kid,” he finally admitted. “I hate feeling like a kid.”

Logan hummed behind him, and he felt Finn kiss the side of his head. “Adults get acne all the time. Alex had it until he was 23.”

“You don’t have it.”

Finn shrugged. “Got lucky. I was a mess in high school, though. Washing your face five times a day isn’t going to make it magically disappear, Butter.”

“I want it to.” Leo was well aware that he sounded like a grouchy five-year-old, but he didn’t care. He was frustrated, embarrassed, and feeling gangly all over again. Hell, he could barely get his goalie mask on without tearing up from his skin’s sensitivity.

“If it doesn’t go away in a few days, we can go get some medicine,” Logan suggested. “They have it at the pharmacy down the street and I see people buy it, like, every week.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” He stood on his toes and kissed the side of Leo’s neck. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Peanut.”

“Thanks.” Leo’s nose twitched and he blinked rapidly for a second. “I just—I thought it might help.”

“I know.” Finn’s arm wound around his front and he saw the other wrap around Logan, holding them both close. “But be gentle with yourself, baby.”

“You deserve it,” Logan added.

Leo blew out a slow breath and nodded, leaning into the warm pocket of his boys. He closed his eyes; the worry and the shame still tickled at the back of his brain, but here he was safe, and nobody would judge.

Chapter 31: Creep

Summary:

Creepy guy hits on Remus at a Lions function

**TW for unwanted touching/ handholding, unwanted advances

Chapter Text

The folding chair next to Remus creaked as a tall man in a perfectly-tailored suit sat down hard in it. He was clearly a drink or two past tipsy, and something in Remus’ throat itched at the way the man’s eyes flickered across his chest and arms. “You’re Lupin, right? The new Lion?”

Remus set his drink down. “That’s me.”

“Stan Martin, nice to meet you.” Stan held his hand out and Remus shook it; his palm was clammy, and he held on just a second too long. Remus was the first to pull away after he felt a light squeeze from wrinkled fingers.

“Pleasure’s mine,” Remus said with a polite smile. Sirius was nowhere in sight, and everyone else was occupied in their own conversations. He swallowed hard. “Do you own a team?”

“Nah, I just fund ‘em,” Stan snorted. “Too much work otherwise, not enough time for play, if you know what I mean.”

Remus forced a laugh. “Right, yeah, totally. Are you involved with the Lions? I’m a bit new to the whole administration thing.”

“Even after being a PT for so long?” Stand gave him an incredulous look, but beneath it there was a shadow Remus didn’t like.

“Yep. I was pretty contained to my tape pallets and charts.” Joke it off, Lupin.

A hand, heavy from alcohol and lack of inhibitions, fell on Remus’ forearm with a few clumsy pats before settling on his wrist. Stan looked directly into his eyes. “If you ever need someone to, ah, show you the ropes, give me a call.”

Remus cleared his throat and tried to pull his arm away, but the hand didn’t budge. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

“No, really. The NHL is a complicated world. I’d be more than happy to take some of that weight off your shoulders.” Stan leaned closer and Remus tensed as his eyes roved his face. “Your freckles are much more striking in real life, Lupin.”

“Please let go of my arm, Mr. Martin.”

“Call me Stan.”

“Let go of me, Martin.”

An awful little grin spread over his thin lips. “You’re a spitfire, aren’t you? Too much for Captain Solitude, I bet.”

He jerked his head to the side of the room, where Remus saw Sirius making polite conversation with a woman in a long dress. A spike of fury bubbled up. “Are you talking about my fiancé?”

“Easy, tiger, I’m just saying—” He hiccupped and Remus tried to pull away, but Stan’s grip tightened by a fraction. “—I’m just saying, you could do better with someone who knows how to handle you.”

“I can handle myself just fine. If you don’t stop talking shit about my fiancé, I’ll—”

“What? You’ll do what?” Stan leered at him and Remus paused to shove down his nausea. “You know, you were much prettier before you tried to be like the rest of these jocks.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“I’m just being honest,” Stan huffed, never releasing Remus’ arm from his hold. Remus could feel his shoulders starting to shake. “You’ve got those cute little cheekbones. Very delicate, like—almost feminine. Those training regimens they put you on ruined it, in my opinion. Look, Lupin, when you get tired of tall, dark, and boring over there, gimme a call and you can be pretty aga—”

“What’s going on over here?” a falsely bright voice cut in. The chair on Remus’ other side clicked at its joints as Leo sat down, looking between them with icy eyes. “Am I missing out on all the fun?”

“Hey, Knutty,” Remus managed, wincing as his voice cracked. Stan leaned back in his chair and Remus quickly yanked his arm away, tangling his fingers together.

“Lupin and I were just having a chat,” Stan said, glancing back down at Remus’ lap until he tucked his hands under his thighs. “Nothing big and important.”

Leo’s knee pressed against his own. “Sirius was looking for you a minute ago.”

Stan’s jaw tightened. “What, we can’t finish our conversation?”

“No.” Remus channeled all his roiling discomfort and the urge to knock the creep’s teeth in as he stood up. “No, this conversation has been done for a while. Have a nice night, Mr. Martin.”

Leo’s arm was steady across his shoulders as they walked away; Remus’ vision tunneled, sparkling black at the sides. “Are you gonna be alright?” Leo asked under his breath, his accent soothing. Remus nodded. “You’re shaking, Re.”

“No, I’m not.” He grabbed a plastic cup of water off a nearby tray and nearly sloshed it all over himself. “Jesus fucking—”

“Re.” He could feel his teeth starting to chatter and sweat rolled down the too-tight collar of his shirt. Leo’s hand closed loosely around his own and took the cup. “C’mon.”

“Sirius was looking for me,” he protested as Leo led him down a side hall.

Leo shrugged. “Probably.”

“…he didn’t talk to you.”

“Nope.”

“You came to get me anyway.”

“Yep.”

The clog in Remus’ chest grew and he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Thanks, Knutty.”

A sharp puff of air cooled his burning face. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“I tried to leave.” The words tangled around his tongue as Leo pushed open the bathroom door and led him to the sinks, dampening some paper towels. “I—fuck, Leo, I’m stronger than him but he was holding my arm so tight and I was so fucking freaked.”

“Easy, Re.” Leo sounded like he was trying to calm a spooked horse.

The towels were a balm in Remus’ hands and on his face as he pressed them over his mouth to muffle the wheezing noises. “I’d rather be called a slur to my face than have that happen again.”

The gentle circles on his back stopped for a second. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t—no. I just wanna go home.”

“Deep breaths.” Leo handed him a new towel to blow his nose, then pulled his phone out.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a kickass friend?”

A weak smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but his face was still troubled. “Once or twice.”

Remus’ lungs were tight with a mix of fear and disgust; he felt a little like he wanted to throw up, and while Leo’s hand on his back was an anchor to the world, the rest of him screamed ‘don’t touch me’.

Barely two minutes later, the bathroom door swung open. “Honey? What happened?”

“Holy shit,” Remus managed as gray eyes swam into his field of view. Sirius. Sirius meant safety. Reality zoomed back at double speed and the dam broke—tears poured down his cheeks as his whole body began to shake again. “Holy shit.”

Sirius shushed him softly, pulling him close with a kiss to the top of his head. “D’accord, mon loup, je t’ai.”

“I love you,” Remus sobbed. The fabric of Sirius’ suit was probably wrinkling under his tight grip, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I love you so much for exactly who you are, okay? Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I know.” Confusion edged his voice, but he kept it low and gentle. Remus loved him for it, wildly. The door creaked as Leo left, and then there was silence.

He finally pulled his face out of Sirius’ chest, kissing his jaw, cheek, and lips before resting his forehead in the curve of his neck. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ hands eased through the curls above his ears as he cupped Remus’ face in his hands. “What happened, Re?”

Remus shook his head as revulsion rose again. “There was this creep and he wouldn’t let me go. Said some shitty stuff.”

“He was homophobic?” An angry furrow appeared between Sirius’ brows.

“I wish.” Stan’s words rang in his ears and made his mouth bitter with shame. Remus closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Sirius’ face during his confession. “He, uh—he propositioned me. Kind of.”

“He what?

“I didn’t catch on until he already had my arm.” Remus sniffled, pressing the heel of his hand below his eye to stem the tears. “He followed it up with some bullshit about you, and then some bullshit about me, and just wouldn’t shut up. I just froze. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, mon amour.” Sirius’ touch was so gentle on him, warm and broad compared to the crushing discomfort of Stan Martin. His hands were heavy, but they let Remus move however he liked.

“I love you,” Remus said again.

“I love you, too. Are you ready to go home?”

“I need a minute.” He rubbed his face against the soft lapels of Sirius’ jacket, desperate for comfort around the guilt wedged in his chest; his next words spilled out before he could choke them down again. “You still like me, right?”

“I love you so much—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You—am I still nice to look at? Now that I’m not, y’know, pretty and kinda twink-y.” There was a long stretch of silence. “Is that a yes?”

“Sorry, I had to take a second and stop myself from putting that fucking idiot through a table.” Sirius took a step back and met Remus’ eyes, fixing him with a hard look. “First of all, I love everything about you, and you will always be the most beautiful man on earth. Second, your muscles are the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. Third, you’ve never been—what word did you use?”

“Twink-y. It’s like…delicate. Femme. Etcetera, etcetera.”

More anger sparked in Sirius’ eyes. “Yeah, and you’ve never been delicate. You are the strongest person I know, Re. Whatever he said to you, it wasn’t true.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Absolutely.”

The ballroom was still crowded with high-end management and people Remus never wanted to see again when they finally left the bathroom; thankfully, the throngs of sparkles and dark suits made it easy for them to slip away with minimal human interaction. Stan Martin was over by the water cups, dabbing uselessly at a large wine stain across the front of his crisp white shirt—Remus saw Leo watching him like a hawk with a suspiciously empty wineglass in his hand and internally vowed to give him the biggest hug of his life at the next practice.

Remus slowed down to take in the fresh nighttime air, holding Sirius’ hand tight in his own as they crossed the parking lot. He paused at the passenger door and tugged him in for a slow kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and cologne.

Sirius’ arms wrapped around him and Remus melted into the hug. He felt him trembling slightly, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the chilly breeze. “You are the best part of my life, Re,” he whispered, his voice thick. “The best part, no matter what. I’m so sorry for what happened tonight.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours, either.” Sirius kissed the top of his forehead once before giving him a squeeze and going to the other side of the car. “I’m sure Hattie will agree with me once we’re home.”

Two hours, one hot shower, and thirty minutes of puppy cuddles later, Remus curled up against Sirius’ ribs and felt his chest rise and fall under his palm. “I love you,” he said quietly.

Sirius let out a slow breath and entwined their fingers, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Impossible.”

He could hear Sirius’ smile, even in the darkness of their bedroom, and fell asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

Chapter 32: Lose-Lose Situation

Summary:

Remus' first loss with the Lions

Chapter Text

“I feel like shit.”

“I know, sweetheart. Do you want some water?”

Remus groaned and buried his face deeper into the pillow as Sirius gently rubbed his back. “Not really.”

“I’m going to go watch tape for a bit, okay?”

“Go for it. I’ll be here.” Slowly dying, because I’m a freaking loser who can’t catch a single puck. The couch creaked as Sirius stood, but Remus felt him hesitate.

“Losses happen, Re,” he finally said. “They suck, but they happen.”

“But we won the Cup.” God, I sound pathetic.

Sirius laughed softly. “That doesn’t mean we’re untouchable.”

“Wait.” Remus reached out for Sirius’ wrist and dragged his face out of the sofa cushion. “I’m really sorry I missed that pass. It was perfect, and that one’s on me.”

He was grateful for Sirius’ shrug, instead of a half-hearted ‘nah, it’s fine’ or even worse, ‘what pass?’. “It happens. Meet you on the ice in twenty?”

“You got it, baby.”

Remus managed to sulk for a full ten minutes before he hauled himself up, drank some water, and followed the faint sound of the game after a pit stop to the kitchen. Sirius was hunched over his notepad, scribbling between plays. “Bonjour. Am I late?”

“We’ve still got ten minutes. Can I join you?”

“Sure.” Sirius frowned as he set a box of Oreos on the coffee table before curling up at the armrest. “I didn’t buy those.”

“I did. There was a sale last week and I was saving them for a special occasion. Help yourself.” Remus shoved one in his mouth as Pots made a beautiful goal on the screen.

Sirius licked the uber-sweet crème from the middle before gesturing to the game with half of the cookie part. “I think I figured out our problem.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. Watch.” He rewound the tape for Pots’ goal, then fast-forwarded.

Remus winced. He watched himself skate up the ice and call for the puck, only to immediately lose it to number 15, who carried it back down for a goal. Yet another one of his shining moments from the game.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t just you. Did you see the difference?”

Shake it off, Loops. What did you see? “Yeah, actually. We came in too quick during the first period, so they were ready for us during the second and third. 15 was waiting for me to go that way. We should have scoped their offense out before relying on our defense the whole time.”

“Exactly.” Sirius grabbed another Oreo and started the tape again. “Both our goals happened early, when we could still surprise them.”

Remus nodded. “But we fell apart when they figured us out and never adapted.”

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and planted a kiss to his temple. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re a hockey nerd.”

“I love you, too.” A sudden thought struck him. “I think I know a drill that would help with this.”

“Nope, we still have four minutes before I’m shoving my feet back in those skates. Get over here and cuddle me.” Sirius set the remote on the floor and pulled Remus over onto his chest. After a moment, he sighed softly. “It’s just one game.”

“I know.”

“I was talking to myself.”

“Ah.” He wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist. “What was it you said last week? Win as a team, lose as a team? Don’t blame yourself. If it’s not my fault, it’s not yours.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Does that mean I get to bully you into running drills?”

“I do not bully you—”

“Sometimes you can be a little pushy—”

“You are such a liar!” Sirius laughed, reaching up to tickle his sides and nearly rolling them both off the couch.

They both groaned when Remus kicked him in the shin on reflex and he kissed him quickly on the cheek as an apology. “Oof, sorry baby.”

“I guess that’s our cue to head downstairs?”

“Probably.” Remus’ back popped as he stretched. “Yikes.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into taking a nap here instead?” Sirius asked, turning on his saddest puppy eyes.

Remus snorted. “You definitely could, but you’ll be up all night if you do.”

“Ugh. Fair point. Lead the way, Captain.”

Chapter 33: River Lethe

Summary:

Remus has a nightmare

Chapter Text

Remus stared at the wall and tried to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his forehead and slid along the back of his neck, cooling in the soft buzz of the fan that fought the July heat. The alarm clock flashed and Remus blinked hard, feeling his chest constrict.

One am. Far too dark to be his apartment with its shitty blinds.

“Re?” A too-hot hand squeezed his upper arm and his throat constricted. Someone would find out. Someone would know.

“Don’t.” His voice cracked and Sirius’ fingers stilled their gentle patterns. “Someone—someone’s going to know.”

“Quoi?”

“They’re gonna find out.” A tear mingled with the sweat on his chin and black spots crept into the side of his vision—he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t stay. “I have to go.”

“Are you asleep?”

“No, I’m not fucking asleep!” Remus shivered hard and curled in on himself, unable to tear his gaze away from the far wall. What was he thinking, staying the night? Someone would see him leave, would find out.

“Re, what happened?” Genuine concern cut through the sleepiness of Sirius’ voice and a sob tore from Remus’ throat. He didn’t want to leave. He was too happy here, too safe in Sirius’ arms. “Honey—”

“I don’t want to go,” he pleaded.

“Go where?”

“I don’t wanna hide. We have—we have to tell people. We have to.” He grabbed Sirius’ hand and pulled it close, pressing back against his chest. “We have to tell people before they find out.”

“You’re scaring me, love. What do we have to tell people?” Despite the worry in his tone, Sirius kept a steady hold on Remus as he started to shudder.

“That we’re together.” They had been waiting so long. Remus’ dream had been beautiful, with a summer wedding and all their friends and a dog of their very own. “I know we’re both scared, but we shouldn’t have to hide.”

“…what?”

“It seemed so real,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lie to people anymore about loving you.”

Sirius was quiet for a second. “I’m pretty sure they got the memo.”

“How?” Panic lanced through Remus’ heart. “How did they know?”

“Because we’re married?” Sirius said, clearly baffled. “We’ve been out for a year and a half?”

“Huh?” Remus sat up, wiping his face with the heels of his hands. The clock on the nightstand shone a soft blue. One-fifteen am. Familiar bed, familiar walls, his clothes in the hamper. A dog toy laid abandoned by the foot of the bed and relief quaked through his whole body—Hattie was real, so it was all real. He wasn’t dreaming. “Oh my god.”

The sheets shifted as Sirius pushed himself up, letting Remus collapse into his side despite the fact that he was a sweaty mess. “Did you forget?”

“I—no, I just thought I was dreaming.” He sniffled and looked down at their hands; Sirius’ wedding ring caught the light of the full moon outside like a fallen star. “Okay. I’m okay. Jesus Christ, that was terrifying.”

“I bet.” Sirius’ arm wrapped around his upper back, skimming his shoulder blade. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s fine, I’m alright.”

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You only sweat when it was a really bad one, though.”

Remus pressed his lips together and took Sirius’ other hand, tracing his ring. “I don’t want to lose you. I never did, but we got close.” He paused and kissed his collarbone. “I just forgot how close.”

Sirius stayed silent, running his thumb along the edge of Remus’ most recent sunburn. “I love you.”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut and another tear tracked down his cheek. “I love you, too.”

“We were super fucking repressed, huh?”

“Yeah,” he laughed wetly. “We really were. Sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather be awake than have you go through that alone.”

Remus let out an unsteady breath and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his tshirt. “I’m going to take a quick shower, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll be back. I just need to get my head on straight.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Your head has never been straight, sweetheart.”

“That was terrible,” Remus snorted as he got out of bed and tried to calm the quaky feeling in his legs. “Accurate, but terrible.”

The warm shower spray cleared the last of the brain fog while he sat in the tub and tilted his face up, soaking in the steam as it washed away the itchy sweat from his skin; a glass of water cooled the burning heat in his chest and head, and he slid back under the covers with a sigh.

“All good?” Sirius asked.

“Much better.”

An arm wound around his waist and pulled him close before he could even ask, and he smiled to himself as Sirius’ lips pressed against his temple. They were out, they were married, and they were happy. Nobody was going to take this away. 

Chapter 34: Bubble Bath

Summary:

Sirius has a rough day

Chapter Text

There was a gentle knock on the door. “Baby? Can I come in?”

Sirius quickly swiped at his itchy eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Remus appeared around the door with a sympathetic smile and a mug in each hand. “Hey, love.”

“Hey.” He winced at the croak in his voice and cleared his throat. “What’s that?”

“Hot cocoa. Got a little extra room in there?” In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled his knees closer to his chest; Remus handed him one of the cups before folding himself into the empty space at the foot of the bathtub.

Sirius took a sip of his cocoa and sighed as it warmed his bones. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Remus pressed his lips together—Sirius was starting to recognize that as his I’ve been waiting to say this face—and blew on some of the steam. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Just—” Sirius waved a hand around vaguely. “Just a shitty day. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed and all that.”

“Are you mad at me?” Remus asked, a little quieter that time.

A small piece of Sirius’ heart broke, and he felt his lower lip twitch and waver for a moment. “Oh, god, no. No, sweetheart, not at all.”

“Okay.” Remus took another drink, looking around the bathroom. “You kind of went straight in here and I wasn’t sure if that was a normal thing or not.”

Sirius swallowed as his face flushed. “It’s—I don’t know. I like to sit in here when I’m upset. Feels safe, I guess.”

“That’s fair. I’m more of a ‘facedown on my bed in the dark’ type of guy, but whatever floats your boat.” Remus hid a wry smile behind his mug and Sirius snorted; those beautiful amber eyes lit up at the sound and he felt the heavy stone in his chest ease a bit.

“I was thinking about my parents,” he confessed after a brief pause. “And Reg. Nothing big, but it piled on top of everything else today. Sorry for scaring you.”

Remus half-shrugged. “I was just a bit worried. Are you feeling any better?”

Sirius thought for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. The detached, yet overwhelmed feeling had subsided; he was exhausted and ready for a nap. Maybe a sandwich. “I could really use a hug.”

Without hesitating, Remus put his mug to the side and opened his arms, letting Sirius curl up against his ribs with one cheek against the cool tile of the shower wall. He hummed softly, running a hand through Sirius’ hair—the gentle vibrations soothed the floaty bits still adrift in his mind and he closed his eyes.

“Don’t stop doing that,” he mumbled when Remus curled a few locks of hair around his fingers. He was rewarded with a soft laugh and a kiss to the forehead; after a few deep breaths and a slight adjustment so he didn’t squish Remus’ leg against the bathtub rim, Sirius settled down for a light doze. The real world could wait for a while longer.

Chapter 35: Roots and Veins

Summary:

Sirius' broken ribs

Chapter Text

Remus is cold at night, now. It’s silly, when he thinks about it—Sirius is mere feet away from him, but the pillow that divides them may as well be a canyon. He settles for holding his hand tight and praying that Sirius’ stubbornness also manifests in his ability to heal. He misses the solid warmth of Sirius’ body next to his own so much it aches.

Tonight is no different; Remus gets into bed after Sirius has already been asleep for twenty minutes, watching the shadows play over the angles of his face. He is peaceful in sleep. There is no pain, no frustration, no twist to his mouth that Remus wants to smudge away. He breathes, deep and soft, and Remus laces their hands together before he allows the sound to lull him to sleep.

A sharp gasp and sudden burning in his hand wakes him, and he bolts upright. “Sirius?”

Fuck.” Sirius’ breaths are coming fast and he screws his eyes shut around a cry of pain.

“Sirius, what’s wrong?” Remus feels utterly useless as his skin turns white in Sirius’ grip, skimming his free hand over the still-swollen skin of his chest.

“Mes côtes, mes côtes, fuck.” A tear slides down to Sirius’ ear from terror-bright eyes; he can’t catch his breath and a whine slips through his gritted teeth. Ribs. My ribs, my ribs.

All lingering tendrils of sleep flee Remus’ mind as he leans over, careful not to bump him while he reaches up to cradle the side of his face. “Shh, love, you’re alright. You’re alright, just hold on to me. Deep breaths.”

Sirius clutches his forearms in desperation. “I can’t,” he gasps. “I can’t, I can’t, Remus.”

“Yes, you can.” Remus cards his fingers through the sweaty hair just above his right ear and shushes him gently, using his other hand to rub small circles on Sirius’ palm. His face is tight with pain as he struggles for breath. “In and out, baby, you’re okay.”

“Don’t go,” he pants, meeting Remus’ gaze like a wild, frantic creature. “Don’t leave me, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Remus tilts his head down to kiss Sirius’ hand as it scrambles for a hold on his bare shoulder; his heartbeat hammers beneath Remus’ touch. “What happened?”

“Hurts.” Sirius’ chest caves for a second and he squeezes Remus’ thumb. “Hurts so much, oh god.”

“Did you move?”

“I—you were leaving.” A whining sob sets off another wince as Remus’ heart leaps into his throat. The hand on his shoulder is clumsy with fear and tremors. “I woke up and tried to turn over and—and then I couldn’t breathe and—”

“Sirius, focus,” he says, keeping his tone as even as possible. He traces Sirius’ smooth cheekbone with the pad of his thumb until their eyes meet; the next breath is uneven, but slower than before. “Look at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past midnight. You’ve still got two and a half hours until you can take your meds.”

Sirius leans his face into Remus’ palm with a shaky exhale. “Can I take them now?”

Everything in him wants to say yes, wants to take Sirius’ pain away by any means necessary, but he can’t. “Not yet, baby.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius’ weak voice and pleading eyes rip Remus’ poor, soft heart right in half.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He kisses his forehead, then rests his own against the feverish skin. “We don’t need to add a fucked-up liver to the mix, right?”

“It hurts, Re.”

“I know.”

“I can’t sleep when it’s like this.”

Remis bites down hard on the inside of his lip, then nudges their noses together. “Two weeks and you’ll be good as new. The doctor said this is the hardest part, remember? You’re going to keep doing your exercises and keep taking your medicine, and we’ll get through it together.”

“In my dream, you left.” His warm hand splays over the side of Remus’ neck and the dip of his collarbone.

“Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”

Sirius sniffles. “I couldn’t play anymore. I couldn’t hold you. You just…left.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Something fierce rears its head behind Remus’ teeth and he holds Sirius’ hand over his heart. “Not now, not ever. Broken ribs aren’t a death sentence, and you’ll be back on the ice before you know it. I sure as shit am not going to leave you over this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Do you want to try and sleep again?”

“It still hurts.”

“What kind?” Remus carefully feels along Sirius’ front, checking for any sign of new damage beneath the radiating heat.

“It was burning and sharp earlier, but now it’s…shit, what’s the word? Like a heartbeat, but bad?”

“Throbbing?” His heartbeat is, in fact, pulsing under the bruises by Remus’ fingertips.

Sirius snaps his fingers. “Exactly. It’s easier to breathe, though.”

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“I don’t think standing up is a good idea,” he says, pulling a face. “I’m thirsty, though. And kind of hungry. And way too warm.”

Remus sighs and tucks his face into Sirius’ neck for a moment; his familiar body heat is more of a relief than any ice pack could dream of being. There is a low hum under his cheek as Sirius turns his head to place a kiss by his temple, and he shuts his eyes to soak it in. “I would cuddle you if I could.”

“Moi aussi. Two weeks, mon loup.”

“Two weeks,” Remus repeats, straightening up again. “Try and rest, okay? I’ll grab some water and a snack so you don’t take your meds on an empty stomach.”

A flash of guilt flutters over his face in the darkness. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He kisses each of Sirius’ cheeks and lets his lips linger for a beat longer than usual. “I signed up for this. It’s literally my job, and I love spending time with you in any way I can.”

“Still—”

“Shh.” Remus holds his index finger over Sirius’ lips until they curl into a soft smile. “Next time I get hurt, you can get me snacks, okay?”

A light kiss presses against his first knuckle. “D’accord.”

Remus runs his finger over the light slope of Sirius’ nose, watching his eyes fall shut. “Rest. I’ll be back in a second.”

By the time he returns with a glass of water and a granola bar, Sirius is out cold once more. Remus smiles to himself and climbs back under the covers, then reaches out to hold his hand over the pillow barrier between them. Two more weeks. Just two more.

Chapter 36: Let Me be Your Shelter

Summary:

Jules gets bullied at school

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Jules didn’t brag about his brother every minute of every day. There was no point, and he wanted to be known for his own talents rather than living in Remus’ shadow for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, some people didn’t seem to understand that.

A balled of lined paper smacked into the back of his head. “Heads up, Loopy!”

Jules threw the ball back; it bounced off the end of the table and hit the ground pathetically. “Nice shot,” Aidan snorted as he passed, bumping his shoulder against Jules’ and making him stumble. Several people laughed. His face burned with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I bet your brother’s really proud of that,” Luke sneered. He was a big kid, far bigger than Jules both in height and muscle even though he was only a couple years older.

“Don’t talk about my brother,” Jules said, much quieter than intended.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “What’re you going do about it, Loopy?”

“Just shut up.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” He leaned across the cafeteria table and Jules fought the urge to back away. “Huh? Your brother? He’s never around.”

“He’s busy.”

“He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He does,” Jules insisted, feeling his throat tighten. “He does, he just doesn’t have time—”

“He’s a celebrity, dude, no wonder he doesn’t want his tagalong brother around.”

It’s not true, Jules told himself. It’s not true. Time and time again, Remus had told him that hockey came second to family, but after months of not seeing him it was starting to feel false. “Shut up.”

Luke shifted in his seat and folded his hands. “Face it, Loopy: your brother’s not around because he’d rather spend time with his cool friends than an annoying little kid.”

“Leave me alone.” Jules’ voice cracked and Luke grinned.

“You’re gonna cry?” he asked, full of false sympathy. “Aw, poor baby.”

“It’s not true.” It was getting harder to believe the words. “He visits whenever he can.”

The lunch bell rang before Luke could retaliate; he ruffled Jules’ hair too hard to be comfortable and left, already laughing with his group of friends. What a dick, Jules thought as he swallowed down the tears.

He made it through the rest of his classes in a daze and walked home on muscle memory. It was a cold day for April, but maybe he could blame his red-rimmed eyes on the wind. Maybe Luke is right, part of him argued. There wasn’t a lot of evidence, but it was enough to make him want to throw up.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” his mother called when he opened the door.

That was the tipping point, the tiny pebble that shattered the cracked glass dam holding back his tears. Jules sobbed once, dropped his backpack on the floor, and ran for the safety of his bedroom. “Jules—” The slam of his door cut his father’s concern short.

He grabbed the family picture off his wall and threw it across the room—there was no glass or frame, only tape, so seeing it flutter to the ground was far less satisfying than he had hoped. Remus had him on his shoulders for the picture; they all looked so happy. Jules sat down on the other side of his bed and buried his face in his arms, letting the emotions he had been holding in for three full hours flood out.

Deep down, he knew Luke was a liar and a bully with nothing better to do than pick on younger kids. That didn’t mean his words hurt any less.

A few minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Go away!”

There was a brief pause, then another knock.

“Just—just please give me a minute, mom!”

“I’m not mom.” Jules’ heart skipped a beat. “Can I come in?”

You’ve never been around to help me before. Anger reared up in his chest. “No!”

Remus hesitated for a moment. Jules hoped he was shocked, stunned, hurt. “Okay.”

There was a rustling noise; he looked around the foot of the bed to see a shadow in the crack beneath the door. “Are you—what are you doing?”

“Sitting down.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

“Mom, make him go away!”

“What did I do, Jules?” Remus sounded sad. There was none of his usual teasing in his tone. The anger twisted around in Jules and he scrubbed at the tears and snot on his face.

“When did you get here?” He knew he was being rude; his mother would have given him a pursed-lips look if he talked like that to anyone normally.

“A couple hours ago. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s a terrible surprise. Go away.”

“Not until you tell me what I did.”

Jules took a few shallow breaths before answering. “You’re never here. Never.”

“I know. I’m s—”

“I hate you,” he sobbed, bringing his knees tighter to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

There was a long stretch of silence on the other side of the door, but the shadow remained. “That’s fair,” Remus said quietly.

“No, it’s not!” Jules clambered to his feet and stomped over to the door, wrenching it open. “It’s not fair! I shouldn’t hate you, this is your job! You should—you should—”

Remus looked up at him from his crosslegged seat on the carpet. “I should what?”

“You should yell at me. Or make me open the door, or do anything that makes me angry at you.” He sniffled and hugged himself.

“When have I ever yelled at you?”

“The rat. And the water balloons. And when I stole your sticks. And when I froze your underwear.”

Remus winced slightly. “Fair point. I don’t keep yelling once you’re in the room, though, right?”

Jules deflated. “No.”

“So I’m not going to yell at you. Also, your bedroom smells weird, so I don’t want to go in there unless I have to.”

A smile tried forcing its way out and Jules covered it with his best scowl. “My room doesn’t smell weird.”

Remus sniffed the air, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Why are you here?”

“Mom said she was getting ice cream.”

Jules perked up. “Did she?”

“No.” Remus held up the car keys. “We can fix that problem, though. Go get your shoes.”

“Can I drive?’

“If you can convince dad, sure.” Remus stood up and mussed his hair; his hand was gentle, though, unlike Luke’s. It was a welcome change.

He grabbed his sneakers from under his bed and hopped down the hall as he pulled them on. “Dad, can I drive?”

His father didn’t even look up from the paper. “When Hell freezes over, buddy.”

“Lyall,” his mother scolded from the kitchen, though her eyes crinkled at the edges. “Remus, remember not to swear around your brother!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he said, holding the door open for Jules as he shrugged his coat on.

They drove in relative silence, save for the Top Rock Hits of the Eighties cassette that they had each heard half a billion times. Remus pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru and rattled off Jules’ favorite without even having to ask. Somehow, that both soothed him and upset him even more. He handed the cone over carefully, stuck his blizzard in the cupholder, and started driving in the opposite direction of the house.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Jules asked, licking a stray drip of vanilla off the cone.

“I don’t think I can, seeing as we’re related.”

“You can. You don’t have custody.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Why don’t you, Mr. Fancy Degree?”

“This might surprise you, but they don’t exactly cover the intricacies of kidnapping in PT school.”

“Shame.”

Remus made a noise of agreement around the straw of his Blizzard as they rolled to a stop at the red light. “So, are we going to talk?”

“We already are.”

“Dude.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He made a face when a chunk of Oreo got stuck the straw. “If you get that out before the next light, you can have a sip.”

Jules took it and squeezed the thin plastic. “Luke Sanders is an asshole.”

“Language.” The car stopped again and Jules showed off the unblocked straw. “Do continue, though.”

“You’ve hit every red light since we left the house. That’s got to be a curse.” He took a long sip, then handed it across the console. “You like hanging out with me, right?”

“Obviously. You’re, like, my favorite person.” Remus gave him a confused look.

“Okay, cool.” Jules felt his hands start to shake again, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from his ice cream. Just hearing him say that made a tsunami of relief run through him. “Cool.”

“Did Luke Sanders tell you I didn’t?”

“He said a lot of stuff.”

Remus pulled into a parking lot, then took the key out and turned in his seat. “Like what?”

Jules shrugged one shoulder. “That you don’t want to be here.”

“And?” His voice had softened.

“And that it’s my fault, since I’m an annoying little tagalong.” Jules picked at the paper wrapper around his cone and didn’t look up. “He’s got a p—”

“If you say he’s got a point, all your underwear is going in the freezer.” All traces of gentleness were gone from his tone, leaving tightly-controlled fury in its place.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t—” Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t apologize, Jules.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yeah, because some little shit was picking on my brother and I wasn’t there to kick his ass.”

“I can handle it.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him even more. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you told anyone?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be a tattletale.”

“Jules, there’s a difference between being a tattletale and reporting a bully.” Remus tipped his chin up. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Jules’ lower lip wobbled. “I missed you. I always miss you, but he’s been really awful recently and he keeps saying the same stupid stuff over and over.”

Remus’ nose and cheeks reddened. “I missed you, too. If I could be here all the time, I would.”

“I know it’s not your fault, and I know you’re busy.” He wiped away another tear and tried to pull himself together. “But it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Remus agreed. “It’s not fair that I’m gone nine months out of the year, and it’s not right that people are making fun of you for it. Hang on for a second, okay?”

Jules nodded, still drying his cheeks. Remus got out of the car and jogged to the other side, then opened the passenger door and gestured for him to get out; as soon as his sneakers touched the ground, he was lifted almost a foot into the air. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he managed, burying his face in his brother’s neck.

Remus kissed the side of his head and held him close. “I’m sorry I’m not around more.”

He hooked his chin over Remus’ shoulder. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be here whenever you can? I know that might not be often, but just…when you can.”

He felt Remus’ chest hitch against him. “Always,” he whispered. “Always.”

Chapter 37: Comeuppance

Summary:

Sequel to Let Me Be Your Shelter (prev); the next day

Chapter Text

Luke was having a shit day. He was pretty sure that he bombed his science quiz the day before and wasn’t looking forward to seeing the disappointment on his mom’s face when she saw the score, even though it was only worth 2% of his overall grade. Just try harder, she would say. I know you can do it. Just try.

And he did. He just sucked at science, and that was the way the world worked. Luke kicked a pebble and smiled as it pinged off the signpost. In his head, a goalhorn lit up red and his picture appeared on the jumbotron.

If I could play hockey all day, I would, he thought as he rounded the last corner to the school building. It was one of the only things that made him happy—he itched with the need to get out on the ice at every minute of the day. In the real world, where his pads were unstrapped and he wasn’t good at things, he was…bored. Really, really bored. There was nowhere to put the big feelings he got sometimes, and nothing to do.

His friends were already standing in a circle outside the side door, talking and laughing. They never seemed to need him much, anyway. Frustration flared in his chest and he kicked another pebble, harder this time—it smacked into the curb with a satisfying clatter and he felt a lovely bit of vindication. He didn’t need them to have fun.

Gasps broke out to his left and he craned his neck to see the source; as one of the taller kids in his class, he didn’t need to stretch very far. His heart skipped a beat. Joy soared, then came crashing down like a broken plane. Oh, shit.

Remus Lupin was at the other end of the parking lot, looking as normal as any parent dropping their kid off while he ruffled his little brother’s hair and ushered him away from the car. Remus Lupin, who was one of Luke’s absolute heroes; Remus Lupin, whose little brother he had been pushing around whenever he got bored or frustrated by life.

Shit, shit, shit. Jules’ eyes landed on him and narrowed. Luke forced a sneer, even as his pulse skyrocketed when the kid marched over with his hands balled into fists. He was scrawny, built a little like a scarecrow, but he had the same set to his mouth that his brother got just before beating the crap out of an opponent on the ice.

“What do you want, Loony?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Jules’ jaw ticked at the side. “Leave me alone.”

“You’re the one who came over here.”

“And don’t talk to me anymore.”

“Why not?”

A beat of silence passed before Jules drew himself up to his full height. His chin passed Luke’s chest by less than an inch. “My brother told me to be nice about this and report you, but if you fuck with me again, you’re gonna wish I just told the principal.”

Luke barely held down a smile. Hearing cuss words from an eleven-year-old who barely cleared five feet was more than a little funny. “Sure thing, shrimp. Hey, why don’t you—”

He faltered the second he glanced over Jules’ shoulder. Remus was still standing by their ancient car, glowering at the pair of them with those unsettlingly bright Lupin eyes. The sudden realization that this was Jules’ way of ‘being nice’ struck him like a runaway train; Luke was sharply and terribly aware that he would probably be on the ground with a busted nose if Remus hadn’t reined his little brother in.

Luke had never thought of the littlest Lupin as anything approaching ‘scary’ before. He was beginning to reconsider that particular judgement.

Jules was still waiting with one eyebrow raised when he looked back. “Forget it,” Luke scoffed, hiking his bag up higher to hide the slight tremor in his hand. “You’re wasting my time.”

“Don’t talk to me again.”

“Whatever,” he muttered as he headed back toward the schoolhouse. Adrian said something as he passed, or maybe Dylan—hell, it could’ve been Hunter for all he knew—but he didn’t register a word around the thud of his heartbeat in his ears.

Hobbies. He needed a hobby. Something to do that would take the place of bothering some skinny kid that could and would kick his ass given the chance. When he checked over his shoulder after the first bell rang, Jules was cheerfully chatting with his other geeky friends as if nothing had ever happened. Luke made a mental note to ask his mom about the art supplies she had stuffed in the attic the prior Christmas.

Chapter 38: Sick and Tired

Summary:

Remus and Finn bonding over a lousy interview

Chapter Text

“Hey.” Someone nudged the sole of Remus’ foot. “Scoot, you’re hogging the mattress.”

Remus groaned, but obliged, shuffling himself over to the far side of the bed without taking his face off the pillow. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Meh.” The bed creaked as Finn flopped down next to him. “You didn’t actually yell, if that makes you feel better. It was more of a snap, and a justified one at that.”

“I am so sick and tired of being interrogated about my fiancé,” he muttered, turning to look at Finn. “They never did that to Pots, right?”

“Nope.”

Remus sighed heavily through his nose. “It’s so fucked up.”

“Yep. Those guys were way out of line.”

“Did you know they didn’t ask me a single question about hockey? Everyone just wanted to know where Sirius is and how I’m doing without him. Like newsflash, asshole, I’m my own human being.” Heat rose in Remus’ neck. “I love him, but that doesn’t mean I’m physically incapable of functioning on my own.”

Finn hummed in agreement, then bumped their shoulders together. “The guys are worried about you.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Dumo laid into some of those reporters once the cameras were off, and Talkie was starting to pace before I left.”

Guilt welled in Remus’ stomach and his mouth twisted. “I’m sorry, Harz. Please don’t sacrifice your evening to watch me sulk, your boys are waiting and—”

“Oh, they wanted to come, too,” Finn interrupted with a snort. “I just got here fastest. Have you checked your phone?”

Remus made a face, though it wasn’t likely Finn could see it with all the lights off. Twitter was probably exploding, not to mention everyone mother-henning him to pieces and Sirius dissolving into a puddle of worry when he was supposed to be resting. “Not yet.”

“Do you want me to call Cap?” A warm hand smoothed down the shower-damp cowlick at the back of Remus’ neck and he leaned into it; Finn laughed under his breath. “God, you’re like a cat.”

“I should probably do it, let him know I’m alright,” Remus sighed. “That’s the responsible choice.”

“You’re still pissed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then take a breather. Cool off. I can text him while you nap or read or whatever.”

Something lodged next to Remus’ heart, something soft and wonderful. “Thanks, Harzy.”

Finn shrugged. “Any time. You’re my teammate now, it’s finally my turn to look out for you.”

Remus huffed a laugh and turned on his back to their sides pressed together. “It feels so weird being on a roadie as a player. I keep having stress dreams about unloading all your shit.”

“Really?”

“I called Moody yesterday at 5 am and he told me to fuck off back to sleep.”

Both of them burst out laughing; when he finally got his breath back, Remus leaned over and turned the bedside lamp on. Finn was still snickering, but he could see the worry in his eyes. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked after a moment.

“I just let my temper get away with me.”

“That’s a first.”

“Shut up, Harzy,” he scoffed with a smile.

Finn dragged him into a loose headlock and ruffled his hair, ignoring his half-hearted attempts to squirm away. “Y’know, you’ve gotten a lot mouthier since you left your corner office.”

“I just have less patience for your bullshit now,” he teased, digging his elbow into Finn’s ribs until he let go with a yelp of surprise and smacked the back of Remus’ head in retaliation. “Hey!”

“C’mon, I’m hungry,” he said dramatically, throwing himself over Remus’ legs. “You get to use your big fancy hockey salary to get room service in payment for my moral support.”

“Is this a ploy to make sure I eat?”

“Me? Plotting? Never. I resent the implications of that accusation.” Finn flicked his knee lightly. “But I can order if you want to wash your face or something.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks, man.”

“Can’t leave one of my best friends to sulk in the dark alone, can I?” Finn winked at him as he sat up, and Remus rolled his eyes.

How did I get so lucky? he thought as he rinsed his face and tried to shake off the disaster of an interview. He braced his hands on the edge of the sink and thought of Sirius, home alone and still recovering from a nasty bout of the flu, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket and swiped past a billion notifications before pressing the right contact.

It rang for a moment before connecting. “Hullo?” a sleepy, congested voice asked.

“Hey, lovey,” Remus said, smiling to himself. “Got a second to talk?”

Chapter 39: Fury

Summary:

Remus gets knocked unconscious during a game

Chapter Text

“Lee, are you seeing this?” Frank asked, excitement building in his voice.

“I am, Frank! There’s a melee on the ice—it looks like the Lions and Snakes have finally let their cork pop after that dirty check on Lions captain Sirius Black! Oh, what a hit on Malfoy by O’Hara! That’ll leave a mark,” Lee laughed. Several whistles blew, loud and shrill over the roaring fans. “Let’s get a playba—wait. Hang on a second, Frank, is that—?”

“There’s a player down,” Frank confirmed, sobering immediately. “Lee, I think that’s Lupin, but he’s not moving.”

“Black is waving medics over and it looks like the Lions have put their fists away for the moment. Snape tries to start something again, but—oh, shut down by the refs. Right to the bench for him.” They fell quiet as another person hurried onto the ice. “That’s Hestia Jones, Gryffindor’s newest addition to the training team. Lupin always speaks highly of her, so he should be in good hands.”

Noise rippled over the stadium after a period of suspended silence. “Is he moving? He is! Lupin’s conscious again, and nobody is calling for a stretcher, which is a great sign.” Frank paused for a moment as Hestia and Sirius helped pull him upright. “And Lupin’s heading toward the locker room with about half the team on his heels, mostly under his own power.”

“I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief after that,” Lee said. “I don’t know about you, but I never like seeing fights go bad. How do you think it happened?”

“Let’s take a look.” The jumbotron picked up just after number 8 on the Snakes collided with Sirius in a late hit, nearly knocking his helmet clean off; in mere seconds, the two teams were on each other in a pack of fury. Remus went after number 8, one of the enforcers—they tussled for a moment before a hard hit from his opponent knocked him flat on the ice.

“Lupin’s fiery, but he was well out of his weight class there,” Lee said, shaking his head. “It seems like no permanent damage was done, though. We’ve got enough Lions and Snakes in the boxes that both teams are going to their second strings, Frank! Back to you!”

———————-

Sirius’ heart pounded in his ears as they headed off the ice, moving as slow as possible to avoid damaging Remus on the off-chance something serious had happened. Hestia’s arm was a steel bar around his lower back; Talker, James, and Leo flanked them until they reached the boards, and each of the Lions put a gentle hand on Remus’ back when he passed them.

“I’m alright,” Remus said as they stepped into the tunnel, his head drooping forward. “ ‘m okay.”

“Can you help him get his pads off?” Hestia asked quietly, finally making eye contact with Sirius while they helped him sit on the PT table.

He nodded and gently guided Remus’ hands away from the straps and buckles, undoing them from muscle memory as he kept a careful eye out for anything they may have missed. Remus half-smiled, though more pain had overtaken the dizziness. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Sirius winced at his voice crack, but removed the heavy pads without missing a beat. “How’re you feeling?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “Hurts. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. Can you call my mom?”

“They’ll be here soon, I bet.”

“Did you see them?”

“Earlier, yeah. They’ve got seats in the middle.”

Hestia tapped Sirius’ hip and he reluctantly moved aside to let her run through the concussion protocol, though he didn’t let go of Remus’ hand and grabbed a nearby paper towel to clean up some of the blood on his lip. “You look good to me,” Hestia said after a few minutes. “A little banged up, but nothing scary. Get some rest and water, and you’ll be good as new.”

The paper covering the table crinkled as Sirius sat down, rubbing small circles on Remus’ lower  back. “Do you want to stay here or head back to the bench?”

He made a face. “Stay here, I think. I’m kind of wobbly.”

“I’ll grab your water and be right back, okay?”

Remus nuzzled Sirius’ collarbone with a sigh, then kissed his cheek. “Thanks, hon.”

As soon as Sirius was out of the PT room, he leaned against the wall and blew out a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair. He had been too preoccupied with recovering from the late hit and shoving Snape to stop Remus from engaging with the Snakes’ enforcer; all he could do was watch as they traded one, two, three hits before Remus dropped. Dropped like a stone, and took Sirius’ heart with him.

Nobody else noticed at firs—both teams were a brawling wreck at that point, and for all of his hard work Remus was still one of the smaller guys out there. It was a miracle Hestia had even heard him calling for a medic as he gripped Remus’ hand and fumbled through hoarse pleas for him to open his eyes. He had been so pale when Sirius pulled his helmet off, save for the blossoming reddish-purple mark across one side of his face.

Hestia had let him stay while she worked, speaking clipped and clear by the side of Remus’ head until he mumbled “hear you” and “hurts”. It took another half-minute before he looked at them, and a dozen lifetimes before his breathing went back to normal under Sirius’ palm.

He’s okay, he told himself for the umpteenth time. He’s okay. He’s awake. Hestia’s got him.

Sirius walked to the bench in a daze, hardly glancing at the game while he collected their waterbottles and braced himself on the back of a chair for a moment. “How is he?” Arthur asked, worry lacing his tone.

“He’s okay. Bruised and dizzy, no concussion.”

“Deep breaths, Cap. Deep breaths.” Sirius inhaled slowly, then exhaled with a shiver. Arthur gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “There you go. Everything’s alright.”

“That was fucking terrifying.”

“Sit down for a second, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head. “Gotta get him some water. Christ. Okay, I’m okay. Don’t know if you want me back out—”

“No,” Arthur said firmly. “We’re ahead, and your boys don’t look like they’re going to let the Snakes take it back.”

“Thank you.” Sirius pressed his lips together as the delayed fear rocking through him began to abate.

“Go on, son. I’ll update the others if they ask.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face before heading back down the hall with both waterbottles, trying to calm his racing heart to the sounds of quiet voices coming from the PT room.

“Sirius!”

“Hey, buddy.” Sirius bent down to catch Jules in a hug and felt tears prickle back up in his throat as his ribs were nearly crushed beneath skinny arms. The second he straightened, Hope and Lyall pulled him close in a flutter of worry.

“Is he still awake?” Lyall asked.

“Hestia’s got him,” Sirius confirmed, running a steady hand through Jules’ hair. “He’s up and talking, no concussion. I was just getting him some water.”

Hope looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she nodded. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Sirius lifted Jules onto his hip—the kid wasn’t letting go of him anytime soon—and led them down the hall, then knocked before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

Almost immediately, Remus was mobbed by both his parents. “I’m fine,” Remus assured them as Hope inspected the bruise on the side of his face. “I should know better than to start fights with—”

You didn’t start it,” Lyall interrupted. “That was a late hit and the refs should’ve called it before things went that far.”

“Oh, lovey,” Hope murmured, cupping his face in her palms. “We are so happy for you, and we one hundred percent support you, but please think before you punch people twice your size.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Remus laughed as she kissed his forehead. “Where’s Jules?”

“Here.” Jules wiggled free of Sirius’ arms and crept over, then clambered up onto the table and tucked himself against Remus’ ribs with a sniffle. “Don’t do that anymore.”

“You got it,” he promised; Sirius lingered on the outside of their group hug before Remus reached out and dragged him into his other side. “Family hugs include you now, remember?”

“I need all my boys in one spot,” Hope added, giving him a light jostle.

“You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Hestia said from the doorway as she propped it open. “Cap, Loops, coach might want to see you after the game.”

“How much time do we have?” Sirius asked without extracting himself from the net of affection.

“Eh, maybe five minutes? We’ve scored two goals in the past ten, so I don’t think it’ll drag on too much longer.”

“Sirius, how are you feeling? That hit looked pretty hard.” Hope gave him a concerned look, as if she was expecting him to also drop unconscious.

“I might be a little bruised in the morning, but I’m fine,” he said.

Lyall narrowed his eyes, then nodded. “Good. We need you.”

“I won’t be in for the rest of the—”

“We need you here,” he clarified, patting Sirius’ back. “Right here.”

Remus caught his eye and smiled softly; Sirius swallowed around the lump in his throat and relaxed into the hug, resting his temple against the top of Remus’ head. He was okay. They both were. They all were.

Chapter 40: Resurgence

Summary:

Sirius gets a migraine

Chapter Text

“Baby?”

Sirius winced at the soft knock on the door and Remus’ whisper; even the smallest sounds made more throbbing pain spread toward the base of his neck. He shoved his face further into the pillow with a groan of acknowledgment.

“Oh, love,” Remus murmured. The side of the bed dipped as he sat down and Sirius scooted over to press against his thigh. The room was as dark as it could get, but the few bits of daylight that seeped through curtain cracks made his eyes speckle with spots if he looked up. A gentle hand settled on his lower back and moved in slow circles. “I brought up some water and Tylenol.”

“Tylenol?” He winced at the gravel tone of his own voice rumbling in his head. “Ow.”

Remus made a sympathetic noise. “Do you want to try eating something?”

The mere thought of food made Sirius’ stomach lurch and he tucked his arms under the pillow with a low sound of distress.

“What level are we at?” Remus kept his voice quiet and even; if he thought he would be able to do it without dissolving into a puddle of pain, Sirius would have kissed him for his efforts.

“Mmm. Seven.”

“Better than earlier?”

“Mhmm. Tylenol?” He rolled onto his side, grimacing at the pinpricks of light. A cool hand rested on his forehead and he flinched slightly.

“Sorry.” Remus’ palm disappeared and he pressed two small pills into Sirius’ hand. “No fever is a good sign. Water.”

“I can swallow it dry.”

“You need to hydrate.” He heard a sigh, but kept his eyes closed. “Come on, honey, don’t fight me on this one. You’ll feel better if you drink something.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Your risk of choking on those is higher when you’re sick.” The cold glass against his fingers was insistent, but still gentle enough that it didn’t trigger his sensitivity too much. “Water.”

Sirius propped himself up on one elbow with a scowl and finished the glass with a dozen small sips, then settled back onto his front. “Why are you smart?”

“Because I want you to feel better.”

The mattress shifted a bit as Remus laid down next to him, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “I wish I could cuddle you,” Sirius said miserably, shuffling around until their elbows touched.

Remus laughed ruefully under his breath. “I wish you weren’t hurting. Soon, though.”

“It’s been three months since the last one,” Sirius grumbled. “I was doing so good.”

“You were, but you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and our jobs kind of tick all the boxes for common causes.”

Sirius frowned and turned his head to face Remus, though he didn’t open his eyes. “Have you been doing research?”

“I have six bookmarks on my computer on migraines, yes.”

“For me?” His heart warmed at Remus’ huff of disbelief.

“I’m your fiancé!”

“Still. That’s cute.” There was a long pause as Sirius let the warmth spread to his fingers and toes; Remus’ hand moved steadily through out-of-place curls, giving contact without actually touching his skin. “You don’t have to stay, y’know.”

“I want to.”

“You’ve got better things to do than babysit me.”

“It’s not babysitting, it’s a sleepover. I get to lay here and braid your hair. Want to gossip a little?”

That startled a laugh out of Sirius, even if it made his head pound for a full three seconds. “Yes, I would love to gossip with you. Silently.”

“Works for me.” They settled into an easy quiet, breathing in tandem as Sirius let the waves roll over him. The Tylenol kicked in after a few more minutes—he audibly sighed when the pain dulled and felt about ten different muscles relax. In and out, he reminded himself. He was so unbelievably tired. In and out.

When he woke three hours later, Remus was fast asleep next to him. Their elbows still touched over the covers.

Chapter 41: Where the Heart Is

Summary:

Sirius' first day with the Dumais

**TW implied bad childhood

Chapter Text

The first thing Pascal Dumais noticed about Sirius Black was how quiet he was. At only eighteen years old, Sirius was taller than most of the other Lions, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. Yet he moved almost silently, padding along the wood floors in his socks and speaking only when spoken to. It was…honestly, a bit unsettling.

Dumo had expected a rambunctious teenage boy, still high on the thrill of being drafted to the NHL—instead, he found himself the guardian-slash-landlord of a ghost. Sirius unloaded his meager belongings with little fuss and accepted no help, his pale eyes never lingering on either of them for too long.

Celeste poked her head into the living room in the early afternoon when they returned from the grocery store; Sirius was sitting ramrod straight in the smallest chair they had with a thick book in his hands. She knocked gently on the doorframe, and he jumped. “Sirius, would you like some lunch?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said in that unusually soft voice.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him.

“I can make myself a sandwich if you have other things to do. Really, I’m alright.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Sirius blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I had breakfast at seven and a granola bar on the plane.”

“Sirius, it’s almost two.”

“Is it?”

“Come with me for a moment, oui?” She ushered him into the kitchen; Dumo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing someone so physically imposing walk so small.

“Papa?” Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he snapped out of his daze, leaning down to lift Adele into his arms with a smile.

“Bonjour, mon chou! Did you have fun outside?” She nodded, wiggling a little in her excitement, and put her hands on either side of his face. Dumo’s stomach sank. “Why are your hands wet?”

“I washed them!”

“Why?”

“Because we played with chalk!”

Both the boys were at day camp, and Katie was down for her afternoon nap. Dumo wracked his brain. “Who were you playing with?”

“Sirius!” she giggled, then held the front of her shirt out. Wasn’t she wearing a different one this morning?“An’ he said chalk stains, so he lifted me up so I could wash my hands and helped me get my new shirt on when it got stuck and let me braid his hair! Can we keep him? Please, Papa, I wanna keep him forever!”

Dumo kissed her forehead as a wave of emotion tickled the back of his throat. Less than six hours in their home, and Sirius was already connecting with his children. “Oui, we can. Did you say thank you?”

Adele bit her lower lip. “I don’t remember.”

“Sirius?” Dumo called. The clanking in the kitchen stopped. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There was a beat of silence before he appeared in the doorway, looking paler than before as he walked over to them. This boy needs to eat more, the parental part of Dumo’s brain thought instantly. Slate-grey eyes flickered between them. “She—she had chalk on her shirt. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s alright. What do you say?” Dumo asked, turning to Adele.

She turned a beaming smile on Sirius. “Thank you!”

His whole face softened in the blink of an eye and he smiled back, giving her a light fist bump. “Pas de problem, petit papillon.”

——————————-

Sirius opened up a bit over lunch; Adele perched herself right in his lap with her peanut butter sandwich to his clear astonishment, but his smiles came easier after that and Dumo treasured each one. He was already grateful that Sirius did not seem like the type of asshole player that Dumo remembered from his high school years.

Marc and Louis returned to the house just as they finished, and though Sirius offered to help wash the dishes—the boy was a blessing, really—they shooed him off to play with the kids for a while. It would do them all some good to get out in the sun.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” Celeste remarked as they stood side-by-side at the sink. Her tone was casual, but Dumo saw the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in agreement. “He’s probably just nervous, mon amour. They can take a while to warm up.”

“Pascal, I don’t think—”

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the other room. The house held its breath. “Is everyone alright?” Dumo called, drying his hands on the nearest towel as his pulse picked up. “What happened?”

Hushed whispers floated out, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. He hurried down the hall with Celeste hot on his heels. “I’m so sorry,” Sirius said as they entered the room. He was kneeling on the wood floor, gathering fragments of a small water glass in one palm. “It was my fault. I hit it with my elbow.”

Celeste frowned. “Boys? Adele? I know you were here.”

Dumo didn’t miss Sirius’ hard swallow, nor the sudden nervousness—no, that was fear—on his face as the three kids crept out from around the corner, looking guiltier than anything. Adele stepped forward, but Sirius stood in a smooth, instinctive motion, keeping her behind him. “It was my fault,” he repeated. Dumo’s heart sank.

“Adele, is that true?”

She looked up toward Sirius, who kept his broad hand ever so slightly in front of her shoulder. Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Adele Marie, tell the truth.”

“No,” she said.

“Come here, please.” Dumo watched Sirius’ breaths go shallow as Celeste beckoned to Adele, but confusion took its place when she crouched to her level. “Thank you. What Sirius did was very nice, but we don’t let other people take the fall for our mistakes in this house, Adele. We accept responsibility. Who broke the cup?”

“I was chasing Marc and we both bumped into the table,” Adele confessed, toying with the hem of her butterfly-patterned shirt. “It was an accident, I promise.”

“Did anyone get hit by the glass?” Dumo asked. All three shook their heads. “Sirius?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Mr. Dumais.”

“Marc, Adele, I want you to find the broom and dustpan so your mother and I can clean this up. Thank you for being honest. Sirius, there’s a trash can in the kitchen, but be careful of the sharp edges. And please, call me Pascal or Dumo.”

But he didn’t stop thinking about the visible alarm on Sirius’ face when Celeste brought Adele forward all afternoon. Something was not right.


If it wasn’t for the baby, Dumo would not have heard it.

Katie woke around midnight with a quiet whine, which devolved into whimpering, and finally into full-out sobbing for over half an hour. He carried her downstairs so she wouldn’t wake the others and gently rocked her, humming lullabies under his breath until his throat was dry and her tears abated. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, drying her pudgy cheeks with his sleeve.

The last bits of sleep faded away as he set her down in her crib again, and he sighed. The season didn’t start for more than a month, but he had been looking forward to a few consecutive nights of solid rest before then.

May as well check on the others, he thought, wandering down the hallway in his thickest socks and bathrobe to stave off the nighttime chill. Marc and Louis were each out cold; he took the open book splayed across Marc’s bed and set it on his dresser, turning the lamp off as he left. Adele was curled into a tight ball around no less than four of her precious stuffed animals and he tucked the blankets back over her shoulder.

Dumo’s feet carried him down the stairs before his brain fully caught up, and he paused—Sirius had been in their house for a single day, and already he had the urge to look out for him. The thought should have made him feel silly, but instead he felt…peaceful. He felt right. There was a lost and near-silent boy in his home, who protected his kids within hours of knowing them. Of course Dumo was going to make sure he was alright.

Summer wind rushed past the wide windows as he headed toward the basement. It was warmer there, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back for remodeling two years prior. Hopefully, Sirius would be comfortable.

A soft sound broke through his thoughts. Dumo stopped on the last step.

There was a harsh breath, then a sniffle, as if the person inside was trying and failing to keep their tears in past the point of no return. He heard a few shaky, weak inhales, then a choked noise that cut off abruptly with a gulp.

Dumo closed his eyes to hold back tears of his own and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

Everything went silent with a rustle.

“Sirius?” he whispered, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

“Can I come in?” he ventured.

An unsteady voice answered. “Ouais.”

The door creaked a little as he opened it and stepped into the dark room. Sirius was nothing more than a clump of shadows on the far side of the bed, squished tight against the wall with all his blankets wrapped around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Je vais bien.”

“Can I sit?” Dumo fully expected Sirius to tell him ‘no’, to make an excuse, to pull some arrogant teenager nonsense.

Instead, he tucked his legs up and made room near the foot of the bed with another sniffle. “Did I wake you?”

“Non. Katie was crying, and I thought I’d check on everyone.” He settled down and scooted until his back was against the wall as well—Sirius was still hiding in a cocoon of his duvet, but his hand came up to wipe his face. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“You seem upset. I know the homesickness is hard for the first few days, but—”

No.” The vehemence of Sirius’ answer shocked him into silence. “No. I’m not homesick. I just—so much has happened, and I—it’s—this is everything I wanted, right here, and—”

He broke off with a wounded noise that broke Dumo’s poor heart right down the middle. He moved closer until their shoulders touched; to his surprise, Sirius leaned on him and shivered. “How can I help you?” Dumo asked quietly.

“Your family…” Sirius shook his head and drew the covers tighter. “You have a beautiful family. You should be proud of them.”

“I am, every day.”

“Your kids love you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Dumo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, they—you’re their hero. And not because of hockey.”

That was Dumo’s dream, laid out right in front of him. If someone he hardly knew could see that, then it must be true. The impact was greater than he ever could have imagined; his lungs felt tight. “Thank you. Is it alright if I ask you something?”

Sirius stiffened slightly.

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just…worried.”

He felt Sirius shift. “This is about the glass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oui.” Dumo searched for the words and scrounged up any sliver of tact he could find. “Sirius, do you—what happens when you break a glass at your house?”

Sirius’ breath rushed from his lungs in a near-silent sob. Dumo gathered him close in his arms and held him, letting tears dampen his shoulder as he murmured soft reassurances in French. “I’m sorry,” Sirius croaked, though he did not move away. “I’m sorry for—for intruding, and for ruining your shirt—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dumo gave him a light squeeze of comfort and felt him go a bit boneless. “And you are not intruding. We love having you here with us.”

“Really?”

He sounded so unsure. So young. Dumo wished he could take away whatever horrible things had been said to ever make someone so kind feel so small. “Yes. Adele, especially.”

“She’s so…colorful.” Fondness dripped from every word.

“She is,” Dumo agreed. “She came running up to me, and went ‘papa, papa, can we keep him?’”

Sirius laughed a little at his imitation and straightened up, drying his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. They sat quietly for a while until the shaking stopped and his death grip on the comforter loosened. “Thank you, Mr. Dumais.”

“Call me Pascal, or Dumo if you like. ‘Mr. Dumais’ makes me sound like a grandfather.” They laughed together, then fell silent once more. “And you’re welcome. Any time you need help, you can come to me. I might not be your father, but—”

“You’re better,” Sirius interrupted, wiping his nose. His shadow turned to face Dumo in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his face, he could picture the earnest expression. “In every way. Please don’t tell anyone about this, though.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Dumo answered honestly. “I should let you sleep now. We have some busy weeks ahead of us, eh?”

“Bonne nuit, M—Dumo.” The name carried new weight and he let it sink in as Sirius laid back down and kicked his blankets back into place. Something told him this was the beginning of a very interesting story.

“Bonne nuit, Sirius. Welcome to our home.”

Chapter 42: Endless Road

Summary:

Reg and Sirius bonding

Chapter Text

Regulus didn’t miss the Snakes. Far from it, actually—he hated them and everything they stood for, and he would never forgive them for what they did to his brother. For all he cared, they could burn alongside his parents.

But sometimes…sometimes he regretted dropping out of hockey.

The spotlight was constantly on Sirius, now; there were no more comparisons between the brothers, but that also meant the papers never looked deeper than the surface of Regulus’ personality. Sirius was overwhelmingly, ridiculously proud of him for going to college—almost too proud, in Regulus’ opinion—and lit up like a candle whenever it was brought up at an interview.

He’s my little brother, Sirius had said during the most recent conference. I’m happy he’s following his heart for once.

So reporters fawned over him whenever they saw him at the grocery store and peppered him with endless questions, only to sprinkle in the bare minimum around all the amazing, wonderful things Sirius had done in the past 24 hours since they last interrogated him. They spoke to Regulus like he was some dumb high schooler who had dropped out because he couldn’t handle the pressure—simpering, sympathetic, and a little pitying.

They didn’t care about him. They cared that he was the great Sirius Black’s kid brother, and there was nothing he could do about it now that he was off the ice.

Regulus scrolled past a few more articles with his face plastered on the front, gripping the cool marble countertop tightly. Let it roll off, he reminded himself. They don’t know you or Sirius.

NHL Dropout to Attend NYU

Younger Black ‘Following His Heart’

Sirius Black: Proudest Brother in the NHL

See Sirius Black’s New Interview Here!

“I’m heading out!” Remus called from the front door, snapping Regulus’ train of thought.

“Alright, drive safe.”

The door closed behind him with a clickand Regulus sighed, sliding down to sit on the floor. He rested his head back against the cabinets, simultaneously too upset to be productive and too energized to mope around. He lingered there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, before sighing again and heading into the basement. Only one thing would make him feel better.

“Bonjour,” Sirius said absentmindedly as he skated along the outside of the rink.

“Got room for one more?”

Sirius looked up and grinned. “Course.”

Lacing his skates was muscle memory, and pushing out onto the ice was more of a relief than he cared to admit. Part of him had been afraid it would be soured by his decision to leave the NHL—maybe that was a silly thought, but hockey still held a large piece of his heart.

Maybe I’ll go back someday, he thought as he flicked a puck to Sirius. Not now, but…later.

The puck bounced off the front of his skates. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“You don’t think loud enough,” he countered.

Sirius barked a laugh and checked him lightly. “Head in the game, petit enfant. Head in the game.”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“Why do you think I do it?”

“Because you’re an asshole.” He slapped the puck toward the goal, but it bounced off the crossbar. Irritation flared hot and white in his chest. “Pass it back, yeah?”

“There’s one right next to your—”

“Just pass it back!” Regulus snapped. His throat felt tight; the back of his neck itched, and there was unwelcome pressure building behind his eyes.

Sirius’ teasing smile dimmed. “Reg?”

He sniffled. “Just pass the fucking puck, okay?”

The soft shush of skates was familiar and more soothing than Regulus cared to admit. Nobody skated as quietly as Sirius—there was a reason they called him ‘Padfoot’ after all. He stared at the ground, willing the tears of hurt and frustration to vanish into thin air. Arms wound around him.

“Stop it,” he demanded, though his voice broke. “Sirius, let go.”

Sirius pulled him closer and rested his chin on top of his head. Regulus felt something crack a little inside, and his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. Sirius rubbed his back like he was eight years old again, falling apart in the backyard because his feet hurt, and it was cold, and that stupid play just wasn’t clicking.

“Nobody likes me,” he blubbered. In any other scenario, he would’ve felt like the biggest wuss in North America, but Sirius was safe. Sirius was home.

“People like you.”

“Only because they like you better.” He took a few shallow gulps of air. “They—they pretend to care an’ I can’t even do anything about it anymore.”

“Is this about reporters?”

“It’s about everyone.”

Sirius sighed heavily. “Reg—”

“It’s fine, I can handle it—”

“Stop.” Silence fell over the rink. Sirius pulled back and held Regulus’ face between his hands, looking straight into his eyes. “You are outstanding, and one of the bravest people I know. If reporters don’t take the time to see that, they aren’t worth your energy.”

Regulus wiped his cheek dry. “I know.”

“And the Lions think you’re pretty damn cool, too. James is still waiting for that rematch after you kicked his ass. Leo’s your best friend. Remus has been talking about that book you recommended for a week straight, which I don’t know whether to thank you for—” That drew a weak laugh from him, and he saw Sirius’ face soften. “—and I’m your brother. I missed you, and I love you. So please don’t dwell on tabloids or some shit like that. They have no right to make you feel unloved.”

Regulus leaned forward into his chest with a few deep breaths. “How are you so good at pep talks?”

“Captain.”

“Ugh, right.”

“I was terrible at them in the beginning,” he said. Regulus snorted. “Ask Pots or Kasey sometime. It was mortifying. I’m pretty sure Coach almost took my badge away for that.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Now come on, your slapshot still sucks.”

“It does not!” Regulus protested, punching him in the arm as he pulled away. “My slapshot is perfect!”

“Tell that to the crossbar.” Sirius their skates together. “Come on, put some power into it!”

“I regret being related to you.”

“Says the one who got snot on my shirt five minutes ago.”

Regulus’ next (entirely perfect, thank you very much) slapshot went directly toward Sirius’ shin. He dodged, unfortunately, but the undignified yelp it earned him was well worth the trouble.

Chapter 43: Chocolat

Summary:

Sirius comforting Reg after a nightmare

Chapter Text

The first thing Sirius thought of when he awoke to a rustling downstairs was ‘raccoon?’

The second was ‘burglar??’

And the third was Regulus.

Carefully, he moved Remus’ head onto the pillow and slipped out from under his arm, shivering at the chill of their bedroom outside the blankets. He grabbed a hoodie off the dresser and opened the door softly before padding downstairs; it was half past three in the morning on a Saturday, and Regulus never got up before eleven if he could help it, even on weekdays.

The kitchen light was on when Sirius walked down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Reg?” he whispered.

A mug clattered and he frowned, wincing at the brightness of the small room. Regulus had his back to the door as he fiddled with the stove.

“What’re you doing up?” Sirius asked around a yawn.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up. Sorry.” A fine tremor rippled through Regulus’ arm; his voice was strained.

The latent drowsiness left Sirius’ body in the blink of an eye. “Are you alright?”

“All good.”

“Reg.”

Regulus swallowed as Sirius gently touched his arm. Hot chocolate bubbled in the pan that he stirred with a shaky hand—underneath the warm milk, Sirius smelled cinnamon. “It was just a nightmare. I’ll be alright in a minute.”

“How long have you been awake?”

He shrugged, sniffling once before grabbing his mug off the counter. It was a multicolored monstrosity Katie had painted him for his birthday, but he used on every occasion; once, Sirius saw him drink lemonade from it. “Half an hour? An hour? I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to talk?”

Regulus shook his head and his lower lip quavered slightly. Sirius made a soft sound and opened his arms, letting him rest against his chest like he used to when they were kids. Two hands clutched the back of his hoodie and he pressed a light kiss to Regulus’ dark hair before setting his chin on it. “Sorry,” Regulus hiccupped. “I tried to be quiet.”

“I thought you were a raccoon for a second,” Sirius joked, though he kept a tight hold on his little brother. “You know you can always wake me up if you need something, right?”

“I’m nineteen, not four.” Despite his scoff, Regulus held on tighter. “Thanks. I needed this.”

“Any time.” Sirius reached down and stirred the hot chocolate as it began to froth. “Did you add the nutmeg?”

“I don’t remember.”

Sirius nodded and brought the spoon to his mouth, licking his lips. “Yep, you got it. Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He grabbed another mug out of the cupboard and poured equal measures into each, then a little more into Regulus’.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could have any.”

“Brother tax.” Sirius took a sip and smacked his lips just to rub it in. “Also, payment for the hug.”

“I’m not paying you for hugs.”

“It’s either this or five bucks. I’ll leave it up to you.” He grinned and knocked their hips together as Regulus rolled his eyes. They drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes, hands curled around the warm edges as spiced chocolate steam filled the kitchen.

“So…” Regulus trailed off.

Sirius took another drink. “I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.” There were a few more heartbeats of quiet. “It was about Mother.”

It took every ounce of self-control, but Sirius didn’t flinch. “Hmm.”

“She was yelling again. She yelled a lot, especially after you were gone.”

He swallowed hard around the shame rising in his throat. Heather always said he shouldn’t be guilty for moving forward, that he hadn’t abandoned Regulus in any sense of the word, but it was still hard to accept. “She always did.”

“I don’t blame you for getting out.” Regulus kept his eyes trained on the red walls as he scooted over so their shoulders touched. “I’m glad you did, actually. I’d rather it be me than you.”

“That’s my line,” Sirius laughed, a little bitterly. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.”

“She can’t touch us here, okay? We’re safe now.” Sirius nudged him until he looked over and nodded. “You’ll always have a place in this house, Reg.”

“Remus must be tired of having me around,” Regulus muttered into the rim of his mug.

“Are you kidding? He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” Sirius snorted. “You’re both such nerds.”

“Okay, Mr. Come-Watch-This-Underwater-Documentary-For-the-Fifth-Time.”

Sirius made a face at him and put the pan in the sink, running some water around the sides so the milk wouldn’t stick. He could tell Regulus wanted to say more; tension was starting to gather in the air again. “Even if he was tired of you, I wouldn’t kick you out.”

There was a beat of surprised silence. “You wouldn’t?”

“No. I almost lost you once and I won’t do it again.” He drained the last of his hot chocolate and bit his lip. “Please don’t make me choose between you, though.”

“I won’t. I would never make you do that.” A fierce gleam entered Regulus’ silver eyes for a moment, then faded. “Dumo offered me a place to stay when Logan moves in with his boys.”

“Did he?”

“I was—” Regulus paused. “I was thinking about taking him up on the offer.”

A pang hit Sirius’ heart. “I think it’ll be good for you. Independence, and all that.”

“I think so, too. It’ll be…interesting, to have some solid parents for once.” He set his mug down and leaned back on the counter, looking around the kitchen carefully. “I like it here, though. It feels like a home.”

“You can make whatever choice you think is best. I’ll miss you, but I won’t stop you from whatever you decide to do.”

Regulus chewed his lower lip. “I was thinking about quitting hockey.”

“Okay.”

“I love it so much, but I might take a year and do some online classes. Or get a job. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know everything right now.” Sirius reached over and ruffled his hair. “You’re nineteen, not ninety-five. Honestly, I’ve been waiting to catch you sneaking out to hang with Knutty one of these nights.”

Regulus laughed quietly, a real smile splitting his face. “That’s a good idea.”

“I could ground you.” Sirius grinned. “I’ve always wanted to ground somebody.”

“That’s so lame,” Regulus snickered, leaning his temple on Sirius’ shoulder for a moment before sighing. “I’m going to try and sleep again.”

“Sweet dreams, freeloader,” Sirius teased, giving him a squeeze. “And put your dishes in the sink.”

Chapter 44: Insomniac

Summary:

Remus can't sleep

Chapter Text

Remus shuffled around for the eighth time in an hour. Sirius barely held down a groan.

“Sorry,” Remus whispered in the darkness, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. His voice was heavy with exhaustion, but not a trace of sleep.

Sirius turned on his other side so they were face-to-face and traced Remus’ cheekbone with his thumb in a drowsy attempt at comfort. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tea? Water? Melatonin?”

“Tried it, tried it, and I have to be up early to unload anyway.”

Sirius made a sympathetic noise and nudged their noses together, wrapping him in his arms. “Cuddles?”

“Cuddles are always appreciated,” Remus laughed. They laid in silence for a while, but Sirius didn’t feel his breathing drop into the slow, steady rhythm that he was used to. Remus sighed, and shifted again. “I should just go sleep on the couch.”

“No,” he protested, holding him tighter. “Then I won’t be able to sleep.”

“I feel bad keeping you awake.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m so tired.” Misery laced every word.

“I know, mon amour.”

“And really fuckin’ sore.”

Sirius rubbed his back lightly, wincing at the tight muscles that twitched under his palm. Remus lifted boxes until he ached and got no credit, while they were paid millions to skate in circles all day long. It just wasn’t fair. “I’ll always be your biggest fan,” Sirius murmured.

“What?”

“When people realize how incredible and amazing and hardworking you are, I’ll still be your number one fan.” Remus snorted, but his muscles relaxed a bit more. “I’ll get myself a t-shirt. ‘President of the Remus Lupin Fan Club’.”

”You’re ridiculous.”

“Old news, sweetheart. Old news.”

Remus yawned loud enough his jaw popped and moved them around so he could rest his head on Sirius’ chest, right above his heart. Sirius combed a hand through his hair, drawing a light sigh from him. “Gettin’ sleepy.”

“Good.”

“Might take a while.”

“I don’t mind.” The clock beeped midnight and he shoved down a pang of oh god why did I stay up late before morning practice. He would take any chance he could get to help Remus, whatever that entailed. It was always, always worth the wait.

Chapter 45: Shield

Summary:

Logan has a panic attack at practice

Chapter Text

It was Sirius who noticed first. Then Remus. Then Finn.

He was still kicking himself over that one, to be honest.

Sirius moved like a solid wall, murmuring in quiet French as he led Logan out of the gym and into the hall with Remus hot on their heels. A pang hit Finn right in the heart—I want to understand, he thought, fervent and afraid as he set the jump rope down. I would build the Tower of Babel again to understand how to help.

His pulse picked up; sweat itched at his forehead even after he stopped exercising. “Something’s wrong,” Leo said under his breath as they hurried into the hall.

Obviously, Finn bit back. He should have known since the second Logan started snapping his fingers in a nervous tic, should have seen the fucking signs

“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously from the weight bench where he laid. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Just—just hang on a second.”

“Respire.” Sirius sat crosslegged across from Logan, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he leaned his head against the wall about ten feet from the door. “Logan, respire.”

A gentle but firm hand moved Finn out of the way by his shoulder; Remus slipped past them with a cup of water. “Drink this,” he ordered as he took Logan’s twitching hand between his own. “Open your eyes if you can.”

“Gonna throw up,” Logan managed, his voice high and reedy.

“Lo?” Finn’s mouth was dry. Logan hadn’t had a panic attack since their last year at Harvard together—he barely remembered what to do.

Logan’s chest caved at the sound of his voice, and one pale green eye cracked open to stare at him in sheer terror. “Finn. Finn, it’s happening, I don’t know what to do—”

“Move.” Finn’s throat hurt, but his brain kicked into autopilot. I can fix this. “Leo, get some damp paper towels from the break room. Cap, give him space.”

Leo disappeared from his stunned place by his side; after a moment’s hesitation, Sirius held his hands up and backed away. Logan was still gripping Remus’ hand with white knuckles. “How do I help?” Remus asked as soon as Finn knelt next to Logan.

“Grab some more water, and granola bars.” Slowly and deliberately, he reached up and cupped the side of Logan’s face. He had never allowed himself to do it at Harvard, but Logan always came back to himself quicker with a grounding touch. “Logan, can you look at me for a second?”

He shook his head. “Gonna throw up.”

“Alright.” With a shaky exhale, Logan leaned into his palm. “There you go, good job. Are you still dizzy?”

“Little bit.”

Past adrenaline rush, past collapsing, moving through dizziness. Finn ran through his mental checklist like it was just yesterday that Logan had crumbled after a bad game in from of scouts. “Cap was right, you need to breathe. I’ll do it with you, okay?”

He watched Logan’s chest move up and down, erratic at first before slowing to match Finn’s steady pace. Something damp and cool brushed against his free hand and he pressed the paper towel to Logan’s forehead, then kissed Leo’s cheek in gratitude as he sat down. “What happened, love?”

Logan swallowed hard and licked his lips, but his eyes were opening. “Dunno. I was almost at the end of my reps. I was fine.”

“Did you eat?” Sirius asked quietly to his left, waiting with his arms crossed. Despite his stance, he didn’t look angry.

“Bagel for breakfast. Coffee.”

His mouth tilted down. “That’s not enough.”

“Desole.”

“We’re not upset,” Finn assured him, sliding the makeshift washcloth to his temple. “Just worried.”

“It’s really warm in here,” Logan panted. His pupils had dilated so far they almost masked the green entirely. Past dizziness, into dehydration. “Is anyone else warm?”

Finn’s sweat was already cooling on his body as he handed him the water glass. “Drink.”

In twenty seconds, half of it was gone. A decent amount spilled over the front of Logan’s shirt from his shaking hands, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Leo’s whole face was lined with concern. “Better?”

“Oui.”

Finn glanced up at the others and gave them a quick nod. We’ve got him. Sirius squeezed his shoulder as he passed, and Remus passed him a couple energy bars before heading back into the gym. Logan’s breaths were coming easier; they waited in silence until the rest of the water was gone and his face regained some of its color. “You can’t skip breakfast on heavy workout days, Lo,” Finn said, folding his legs under himself. “You know that’s how these get triggered.”

“It’s been long enough that I thought I’d be alright.”

“Does this happen a lot with you?” Leo asked. Insecurity flickered over his face and Finn felt a stab of guilt.

Thankfully, Logan shook his head. “Not for a while. They used to, back in school.”

“Then why’d you skip breakfast if you knew it might happen?”

“I slept weird. Didn’t wake up hungry, and by the time I was, we had to go.”

“We can take another five or ten minutes to make sure you eat instead of having a panic attack.” Just to make that extremely clear, he added in his mind. “For future reference.”

Logan’s nose twitched as he looked toward the gym door. “Sorry for interrupting your practice.”

“Health comes first,” Leo said firmly. “Practice won’t ever be more important than your safety.”

“It’s our job—”

Finn held his hands up in a timeout motion. “Panic attacks aren’t something we fuck around with, remember? The guys will understand. Coach will understand. Besides, we’re your boyfriends. It’s our job to take care of you when you’re feeling shitty.”

Logan looked between them, sighed, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on both their shoulders. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Leo said into the soft skin of his neck with a light kiss.

Finn rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand and buried his face Logan’s slightly-sweaty curls. “Love you, three. Ready to head back in?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to kick your ass in squats.”

Leo snorted. “Bold of you to assume Cap’s letting you near anything heavy for the next 24 hours.”

“That assumes he lets you in the gym at all,” Finn amended.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m sure he’ll believe you, after you’ve been cleared by every doctor in a four-mile radius.”

“I’ll make him let me in.”

“Now that I’d pay to see,” Finn laughed. He internally cheered at the rosy splotches of temper that lived a semi-permanent life on Logan’s cheeks.

Leo nodded. “A true battle of wills.”

Logan’s jaw ticked at the side. “You’re the worst boyfriends ever.”

“Nah, we’re just protecting you from your big bad older brother who is fully capable of banning you from the gym if you don’t play your cards right.” They heaved him to his feet by his hands; if Finn spent a little extra time dusting his back and thighs off, that was nobody’s business but their own.

“Are you done?” Logan asked with clear amusement written all over his face.

“I’m protecting the booty,” Finn said solemnly. Next to him, Leo fought a valiant battle against the grin trying to take over his face. “It’s a very important booty, you know.”

“Like you’d know, Pancake O’Hara.” With a playful smack to his—admittedly lacking, in comparison—rear end, Logan strolled back down the hall to the gym and pulled the door open.

“Yoga mats,” Sirius said without preamble. Leo clamped a hand over his mouth and hid his face in Finn’s shoulder.

“But—”

“Yoga mats. If you even breathe on the weights, I swear to god I’ll sit on you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius narrowed his eyes down the hall. “You two have absolutely no excuse to chill out here. Congrats, Harzy, your rotation for the bench press just started. Knutty, Bliz is waiting for you by the ice baths.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned.

Even Sirius looked sympathetic as he moved aside to let Logan in. “It’s only fifteen minutes. You’ll sur—Logan, put that down!

Chapter 46: Sick Day

Summary:

Sirius stays home from a roadie

Chapter Text

“You don’t look so good.” Remus frowned as he held the inside of his wrist against Sirius’ forehead. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Non.” Sirius sat up on his elbows with a groan, then almost immediately flopped back down.

“Yes.” He leaned back on his heels and checked the clock—they had two hours before they had to be at the airport. “Baby, I don’t think you should—”

“ ‘m going.”

“It’s not a good—”

“Gotta go. Games.” Sirius cracked one glassy eye open. “Two weeks away. I’ll take the first couple days off.”

Remus sighed through his nose and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You shouldn’t go on the plane if you’re sick. Not just for your sake, but for the rest of us. We don’t need everyone to come down with this.”

He received a halfhearted glare in response, but Sirius finally huffed and curled on his side to nuzzle against his thigh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, baby,” Remus said quietly, bending to kiss his temple. They hadn’t been apart for that long since before he was a player, nearly a year prior. Hell, he had never played a game without Sirius, let alone two weeks’ worth. “Lily will check on you, okay?”

Sirius mumbled an incoherent response and cuddled closer when he began combing his fingers through his hair. The second alarm beeped, loud against the quiet of their bedroom; time to go, he thought ruefully. Sirius touched his knee as he started to stand. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Go back to sleep,” Remus said as his heart clenched. “I’ll let Coach know what happened, but you’ve got to rest and take care of yourself. Hydrate or die-drate, yeah?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, kissing his forehead once more before hauling himself out of bed and tucking the covers around Sirius’ shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.”


The clouds were a soft, pastel pink around them as the sun rose—Sirius’ favorite. If his phone was correct, Lily would be there soon to let Hattie out and make sure Sirius wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The thought brought Remus a bit of relief, but not enough to quell his concern.

Talker poked his forearm, snapping him from his reverie. “What’s going on?”

“Just worrying.”

“About Cap?”

Remus waved a hand vaguely. “And Hattie, and Lily, and whether he’s got a cold or something worse. Feels weird being here without him.”

Talker hummed his agreement and offered one of his earbuds. “Want to listen to half of Bohemian Rhapsody with me? It’ll give you five minutes and 55 seconds of relative peace.”

“It’s too quiet,” James groaned just before he pressed ‘play’.

Across the aisle, Remus saw Kasey roll his eyes. “Your husband is sick, dude, not dead. He doesn’t talk to you on planes anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Bliz.”

“Oh my god,” Kasey muttered under his breath, securing his headphones tightly over his ears.

James let his head flop to the side with a baleful look. “Loops, you’re on my side, right?”

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured him. Talker stifled a laugh, and the opening chords began as more clouds rolled past. Remus let himself drift with them, taking deep breaths to soothe his worries; Sirius would be fine. He had the sniffles, or at worst the flu, and he would be join them for the second week in top form. There was nothing to worry about.


“He’s got pneumonia,” Lily sighed.

“He what?

“A mild case, but the doctor said it would take a week of antibiotics and rest before he’s close to a hundred percent. No hockey for about a month, too.”

Remus stared at the wall of his empty hotel room, lost for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty m—absolutely not, go lay down.” There was a rustling noise and two grumbling voices. “Sorry about that.”

“Will you put me on speaker real quick?” Remus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose until he heard a faint click. “Sirius? You there?”

“Yes! I miss you, and I was just going to tell you that it’s really not that—”

“Please sit your ass down. Lily, if he tries to fuck around and find out exactly how nasty pneumonia is, you have full permission to sit on him. I miss you too, love,” he added after a short pause.

“He’s blowing you a kiss,” Lily informed him. “Oh, and he’s giving me the puppy eyes.”

“Resist if you can. Love you both. Give Hattie lots of cuddles from me.”

“We will,” she promised.

The second the call ended, Remus groaned aloud and thumped his head against the wall before padding down the hall. Just my fucking luck. The door swung open after the second knock; Arthur’s face fell. “How bad is it?”

“Mild pneumonia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Doctor said he’d be out for a month.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded, motioning Remus back towards his own room. “Get some rest, then. I’ll let everyone know in the morning. Any idea how he got it?”

“Not a clue.”

“Thanks for the update, Loops. Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Remus lied as he headed back for a sleepless night between cold sheets.


Lily sent updates every few hours; most reported that Sirius was sleeping well and looking better with each passing day, but Remus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. If something happened while he was hundreds of miles away, he would never forgive himself. He had sworn in front of their closest friends and family to be there in sickness and in health—what kind of husband ditches their partner for one of a million roadies?

This one. He stabbed a piece of broccoli and shoved it in his mouth. And then he goes and makes an idiot of himself for the world to see.

The interview was supposed to be easy, but he couldn’t let it roll off anymore. Not when he couldn’t answer their questions even when he wanted to, not when he was states away from the love of his life while he was sick, not when he felt helpless and shoved aside in every current aspect of his life.

“So.” The chair next to him creaked as Talker planted his full weight in it and set his plate decisively on the table.

“What.”

“Oh, pissy Loops. Haven’t seen you in a while. Talked to Cap yet?”

“Yeah.” Another piece of broccoli fell victim to his frustration.

“How’s he sound?”

“Better.”

“Sweet.” Talker continued to munch away on his dinner. “Anyone ever told you that you have the general disposition of a wet cat when you’re upset?”

Remus tried and failed to keep down a smile. “I seem to recall you bringing it up on occasion, yes.”

His dark eyes softened and he bumped their elbows together. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Really, Loops. Cap’s going to be just fine. Lily doesn’t sugar-coat this kind of stuff, and he’s a tough guy. Mild pneumonia doesn’t stand a chance. Besides, we’ve only got four days left and we need you to kick some ass out there.”

If Remus was a little more emotionally vulnerable, he would’ve burst into tears. Instead, he settled for leaning his temple against Talker’s with a quiet ‘thanks’ and allowed himself to be pulled into a side hug. Across the dining hall, Finn shot him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Love you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Talker teased. “The internet is already coming to your aid, you know.”

“About…?”

“Not only have those asshole reporters become a new meme, you’ve also got a shit ton of people bringing up past mistreatment of athletes in the press room. You’re the face of a revolution, Loops.”

“I’ve been the face of too many revolutions for one person,” he groused, not even bothering to duck out of the way when Talker ruffled his hair.

“Well, one more won’t kill you.”


Remus’ heart raced as he stepped off the plane. The logical part of him knew that Sirius would be waiting outside the security gate, but everything else screamed to see him now, now, right now so he could be sure he was alright. At least he had sounded healthier on the phone the night before—Remus wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

“Deep breaths,” James reminded him as they walked toward the baggage claim. “I’m sure he’s—”

An excited shout broke through the thick crowds. Remus’ heart skipped a beat, and then he was running, racing through the people that parted for him as his vision tunneled. His carry-on hit the ground with a low thud that he hardly heard as Sirius lifted him straight off the ground and held him tight.

“I love you,” Remus said immediately, locking his ankles around Sirius’ lower back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled back and kissed him, cradling one side of his face in his warm, warm hand. Two weeks may as well have been an eternity. He broke away after a moment, searching his face for any signs of illness or pain. “I’m fine,” Sirius said softly, as if he could read his mind. “I promise. A little tired and sore, but there’s no lasting damage.”

“Don’t do that again,” Remus said into the side of his neck as he hugged him close. He smelled like home. “Not when I have to leave.”

Sirius’ arms were steady around his back. “I won’t.”

“I’m going to grill you on everything as soon as we get home.”

“I know.”

“But right now, I’m just going to hug you because I missed you and I worried myself into a hole, like, every night.”

He could feel Sirius’ smile against his shoulder. “I know.”

Chapter 47: Braindump

Summary:

Sirius goes to therapy; Coops make a pillow fort

Chapter Text

“So, you’ve started baking?” Heather looked up as Sirius nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. It still smelled a little like Remus from the last time he stole it, but not nearly enough to drown him in comfort. “That’s awesome. If you don’t mind, can I ask why you chose that as a hobby?”

“It’s—” Stupid. He bit the words back at the last second; Heather never liked self-deprecation, and they had been working on positive self-talk for…as long as Sirius could remember, really. “Uh, I helped Re’s mom make a pie over the holidays and I just have good memories associated with it, I guess.”

Heather jotted something down, her soft smile never faltering. She was wearing a sweater the same color as her name—it was distilled comfort, and Sirius felt some of the tension release from his back. “You said you do it when you’re stressed, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does the rhythm help, or is it something else?”

He stared at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the callus from his favorite spatula that was beginning to form. “I think…” he trailed off and bit his lower lip. Honesty always wins. Why do you like it so much? “The rhythm helps quiet my head down, yeah. And it smells like home. And—and if I do it right, I can’t screw it up.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If I follow the recipe, it works. Every time. I can read the instructions as many times as I need to, and I can focus on that until everything up here—” He gestured vaguely toward his head. “—shuts up for a bit.”

Heather nodded; the room was quiet for a moment while she wrote before she settled into her chair and let out a slow breath. “I’m really happy you started doing this, Sirius.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. We’ve talked about finding healthy amounts of control and tethers in your daily life, and from what you’ve said, this makes you happy in addition to helping you calm down. What do you do with everything you make?”

He shrugged. “Give it away, mostly. It’s healthier than store-bought stuff, and the guys like it. Re and I can’t eat it all ourselves.”

“How often do you stress bake?”

“Oh, probably three or four times a week.”

Shit, shit, shit. Heather’s eyebrows crept upward. “Oh?”

“…yes.” Can’t take it back now.

“Okay.” She made a quick mark on her clipboard—for the hundredth time, Sirius wished he could snatch it and run. “Interesting. Why are you so stressed?”

“It’s not like that all the time,” he said quickly. “Just over the past couple weeks.”

“What’s been going on?”

“Everything?” he said. It sounded more like a question. Heather made another note. “It’s—well, Jules got the flu two months ago and Re wasn’t sleeping because he was worried, so I got nervous and started staying up later so I’d be tired, but then I got bored and worried about both of them so I texted Hope about her pie recipe—"

“Sirius,” Heather interrupted gently. He closed his mouth and tucked his hands into his sleeves, palms itching. “Deep breaths, then tell me what’s been going on these past couple weeks specifically that was stressing you out.”

He obliged, counting ten before speaking again as his brain stopped feeling like someone poured pop rocks into it. “Right. So, this whole habit thing started two months ago, and we’re getting closer to you-know-what—”

“The playoffs?”

He made a quiet noise of distress and tapped the wood of the chair. “Oui, that. There’s a lot of pressure from last year, and when my friends are stressed, I get stressed, and baking is easy and fun so I just…didn’t stop. A lot of things are happening right now, and this feels like the only one I can control.”

“There you go,” she said with a proud smile. “Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re being more open and honest with yourself. It’s good to see.” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly forward. “You’re a really, really good captain, Sirius. You are so in-tune with the other people in your life, but you’ve got to remember to step back and do things for yourself sometimes. Right now, baking is your stress relief because you can’t control your friends’ lives or emotional states. Try to find more things like that.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you diagnosing me with ‘needs a hobby’?”

“In a sense, yes. You have done an incredible job over the past few months of letting your world revolve around things other than hockey. Branching out to baking was an excellent choice. Now it’s time to find other things that give you similar comfort, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Fantastic. Let’s brainstorm.”


Sirius dropped his bag next to the shoe rack and immediately leaned back against the door, closing his eyes with a sigh. Therapy was always exhausting, but usually in a good way. Already, he could feel the weight of the last three weeks lifting off his shoulders. “I’m home!” he called.

Remus materialized from the living room and padded over in his fuzzy socks, planting a kiss on each of Sirius’ cheeks. “You look tired. Good or bad?”

“Good,” he assured him. “We worked on finding a hobby.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, baking every other day isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism.”

Remus kissed him lightly on the lips. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Sirius pulled back with a frown. “I thought you liked my baking.”

“I do. I also worry about how much space we have in our kitchen, and how much you sleep.” He gave Sirius a squeeze around the waist and patted his hip. “Now c’mere, I have a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Sirius asked warily as he allowed himself to be pulled toward the living room. “Do we have company?”

“Does Hattie count?”

The dog in question barked when they entered the room, though she was buried beneath a mountain of blankets and only her nose and tail stuck out. In the hour and a half Sirius had been gone, the living room had transformed into a massive fort—the couch cushions were propped up around a nest of pillows and blankets, and low amber light fell over everything from the side table lamp. It radiated coziness and warmth; he felt the last bits of his exhaustion settle into contentment. “Wow.”

Remus beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He cupped his face in his hands and nudged their noses together. “And I love you. So much. I’m going to go rinse off and change, but can we cuddle afterward?”

“What do you think this is for?” Remus teased. “You took my sweatshirt.”

“It’s too big for you anyway.”

“How long until I find it in my laundry pile because it doesn’t smell like me anymore?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, though he couldn’t keep his smile down as happiness bubbled through every vein. “Tomorrow.”

“Go take your shower,” Remus laughed, then kissed him once again. “I’ll see if I have anything else that’ll fit you.”

Chapter 48: Home Vet

Summary:

Hattie gets a splinter

Chapter Text

A loud yelp of pain echoed from the backyard; Remus set his book down immediately, already on his feet by the time hurried footsteps pattered in from the backyard. “Re?” an anxious voice called from downstairs.

His heart rate picked up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Hattie, she stepped on–on something, I don’t know. Can you get the first aid kit?”

“Do we need to take her to the vet?” he asked as he rummaged through the bathroom cabinets. There was no answer. “Sirius, do we need to take her–

“Sorry, sorry, no, I don’t think so.” Relief crashed over Sirius’ face as Remus jogged down the landing; Hattie gave a halfhearted wag of her tail from her place on the floor, held close in his arms.

“Hey, babycakes,” Remus murmured as he knelt next to them and petted her ears. “What happened?”

“We were in the backyard, and then she just started limping and crying.” Sirius shushed her softly as he lifted her front paw and kissed her velvety head. “It’s okay, mon chou. It’s okay.”

“What did you step on?” She whined as Remus felt around the pads of her foot. “I know, sweet girl, it doesn’t feel good.”

“Can you see it?”

He squinted through the dark fur around her toes, and his heart broke a little when one finger came away with a dot of crimson. “I think it’s a splinter. Definitely not glass or a rock.”

Sirius’ shoulders sagged with relief, though his eyes still looked a bit red around the edges. “That’s good. You’re doing so well, ma petite.”

Hattie tried to wiggle free as Remus cleaned the area with a small alcohol pad, but Sirius kept holding her paw and rubbing her belly in steady circles with his free hand. “Alright, here we go,” Remus muttered, adjusting his grip on the tweezers. Hopefully, it would be easier than with Jules–at least the dog wouldn’t wail like a banshee at the slightest poke.

Her silvery eyes were huge and sad, and she made soft snuffling sounds each time he missed the splinter. “Almost there,” Sirius soothed. “Just hold still.”

She whimpered when the tweezers finally closed around the end of the wood–with a quick tug, it was out. “All done!” Remus exclaimed, setting it aside to smooth her ruffled fur. “All done, Hatters, good job!”

“You were amazing,” Sirius cooed as she rolled out of his arms and onto her back. “We’re so proud of you!”

Remus silently handed him a tissue and used the other to clean up the spot of blood on her paw; Hattie squirmed around until she could cover him in kisses while her tail buffeted Sirius’ face. “Thank you,” Remus laughed when she somersaulted into his lap. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yes,” Sirius answered under his breath.

“You scared us, honeybun. I thought we broke you.” Remus planted a kiss to her forehead and she huffed happily. “It’s a good thing your dad is big and strong, ‘cause I don’t think I could hold you and get that out.”

“Of all the things it could have been, I’m glad it was just a splinter.” Hattie rumbled her agreement and stretched all her legs out with a groan as Sirius scratched her chin. “You’ve got to be more careful when you’re running by the gate, d'accord?”

She scrambled to her feet and began to lick his face like her life depended on it; Remus grinned as Sirius tried to duck out of the way. “Yes, minion, slobber all over him!”

“No,” he protested, though his escape attempts were weak at best. “As much as I love your kisses, I already took a shower today!”

“You never complain about my kisses.”

“You don’t cover my face in spit.”

“Did you hear that, Hat Trick? He doesn’t like your kisses.”

Her ears perked up and Sirius rolled his eyes. “That is not–”

“This is why you love me best. Yes, it is.” She stared up at him with her mouth open and her tongue lolling out. “Oh, my munchkin, there’s not a thought between those pretty ears, is there?”

The thump of her tail on the ground was all the answer he needed.

Chapter 49: Pre-Game Rituals

Summary:

Remus at therapy before the Greyback game + back rubs

Chapter Text

The room was quiet. Soft. Remus clenched his fists, feeling his short nails dig into the meat of his palm as he kept his eyes focused on the floor. Heather sat across from him, silent and warm and absolutely without judgement. Push me! he wanted to shout. Make me talk to you so everything comes out at once!

“I—” he began, then faltered. She said nothing, just kept looking at him with the same gentle neutrality. The room was quiet.

Part of him wanted to cry. Part of him wanted to scream. Part of him wanted to curl up into a ball and numb himself to the world so he could finally, finally let go of the ball of nerves clogging his chest and pushing painfully on his heart.

“Sirius doesn’t deserve this,” he said at last.

“Sirius isn’t here, and it’s not up to you to decide what he deserves. He’s perfectly capable of making those decision for himself. What are you worried about, Remus?”

He leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes. “I’m a neurotic mess that’s offloading my trauma onto him when he has enough to worry about on his own. It’s been years. I should be over this.”

“Please don’t diminish your trauma.” Her voice was so kind it hurt. “You went through a terrible thing. You survived, and you have done a beautiful job of making a life or yourself. But it makes sense that you would be anxious about this when—”

“I’m not anxious,” he interrupted. “Well, I am, but—but I’m sad and I’m angry all the time now and I’m scared out of my fucking mind.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want him to hurt me again.” His throat tightened.

“That’s a valid fear. You have every right to those feelings.”

“Every time I think about the game I feel like I’m going to throw up. Or punch a wall. Maybe both.”

“What do you do instead?”

“Read. Go for a walk.” Shut down.

She gave him an inquisitive look. “What else?”

Remus swallowed hard. “I stop talking. I try to shut everything else off. I sleep, if I can.”

“What do you think will help?”

Breaking Fenrir’s face. “Playing the game, so I know he doesn’t have power over me anymore.”

“You don’t have to play the game to know that,” she said. Her shirt was a gentle blue, like ocean waves or the lake at his parents’ cabin. He avoided looking at her face and sniffled. “You’re not a mess, and you’re not a burden. You are having a very normal response, actually. I’m glad you’re talking to me about it.”

“I don’t know what to do.” His voice was hoarse; fragile. The words burned like acid, but it felt better to get them out at last.

“You don’t have to. Not right now, at least.” Tears blurred the carpet’s pattern into continuous beige and he inhaled harshly through his nose. “You’ve been trying to act like your normal self, but that’s not helping, is it?”

Remus shook his head.

“Bottling up your feelings is not a good way to cope, Remus.” A tissue box appeared next to his knee and he took one with a shaky hand and a muttered thanks. “Coming to me to let this out and work through it was a really, really good choice. How much time do you have until the game?”

“Eight days.” And four hours.

She jotted something down on her clipboard. “I’d like to get at least two more appointments in during that time. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus, can you look at me for a second?”

He gathered up his frayed courage and swiped at his face with his sleeve before raising his head. She offered him a small smile.

“You can do this, and I’m proud of you.”

“Right.” His voice cracked as two more tears slipped out.

“This is not just any game, and you have shown immense bravery so far by not treating it like it is. Channel that into your playing. Take that power back from him. There is nothing he can do to you out there that you can’t push back against. I know this has been weighing on you for so long, but you don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”

“But I am.”

“That’s why I’m here, remember?” The sides of her eyes crinkled in reassurance. “We’re going to work this out, even after you’ve played that game. Whatever the scoreboard says at the end, you’ll win either way. Now let’s work on some strategies to calm down when you’re overwhelmed.”


“Thank you for doing this,” Remus mumbled into the pillow. He groaned as Sirius’ hands found a knot of tension in his mid-back and felt him laugh above him.

“There?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Christ, your muscles are like rocks right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just—”

“No.” Remus patted his thigh and Sirius slung his leg back over, allowing him to sit up. “No, I’m sorry for not talking to you when I was upset about Fenrir. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Sirius’ face softened and he kissed him slowly, as if savoring Remus’ lips as he cupped the side of his face. “Hey, don’t talk like that. All’s forgiven. Do you feel better after talking to Heather?”

“Loads. I’m seeing her again on Tuesday and Thursday, so we might have to cancel date night if it’s rough.”

“Okay.”

He made it sound so simple, so easy. Easy in a way that always took Remus by surprise. You actually care. The thought struck him like a bolt from the blue sometimes, that wild idea that Sirius didn’t mind cancelling the one night a week they set aside for just them in case Remus had a breakdown. He smiled, and kissed him again. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Do you want me to keep rubbing your back?”

“Is that even a question?” Remus snorted, rolling over again with a contented sigh. Sirius’ palms were broad and the perfect temperature as they pushed down with the gentlest pressure, smoothing out more internal turmoil that external; Remus felt a buzz travel up his spine and let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. This was safe. This was home. This was calm. He could be untouchable.

Chapter 50: Reminisce

Summary:

Remus has a panic attack at the hospital

*TW medical trauma

Chapter Text

Remus licked his lips for the third time in as many minutes. A faint ringing had started in his ears, and he took a shaky breath through his nose as his throat began to tighten.

Fingers brushed against his wrist. “Mon loup? You okay?”

“We need to go,” Remus said, much quieter than he intended. The lights were burning his eyes; they were too bright, too blue, too close. “Sirius, we need to leave.”

Sirius stood in a smooth motion and wrapped an arm around his waist, casual to anyone else but solid as a bar of iron. Remus fought the urge to let his knees give out as phantom pain lanced through his shoulder and made his heart slam against his bones.

“We need to leave,” he said again.

“Deep breaths, you’ll be alright.”

“I can’t be here. Sirius, please, I can’t.”

“I know.” Sirius’ voice was soothing, but laced with tension. The world blurred and Remus trained his gaze on the speckled floor; another human-shaped blur came into his periphery and let them aside after a quick murmur from Sirius. The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol and the tacky tang of medical tape seeped into his nose, dulling every other sense as Sirius practically carried him down the hallway.

A door swung shut behind them, and Remus was on the ground.

A hand wrapped around his upper arm and he smacked it away, crushing himself into the corner between two cold tile walls. He didn’t like hands. Hands poked, prodded, trapped. They connected to voices that brought only bad news and more exercises that hurt. They were always cold.

A panicked wheeze escaped his chest as he wrapped his arms around his knees and let the first tears roll down his face. He never cried in the hospital, not around other people. He could taste the cleaning solution; it burned his eyes, or maybe that was just the salt he couldn’t stop.

“I can’t breathe,” he blubbered. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not going to die.” The voice was gentle and low, and so, so sad. “Remus, can you open your eyes?”

“Don’t wanna look.” Looking meant he would see everything around him. It would break the illusion that he was home in his bed, safe and sound. That it was all a nightmare. “I wanna go home.”

“We can go home, but you need to breathe first.”

“I can’t.” He sounded pathetic. More than anything, he wanted his mom. She would sit next to him and hum under her breath, no matter how quiet or covered in fear sweat he was. His dad would soothe Jules whenever he tried climbing onto Remus’ hospital bed and let him squeeze his hand when the pain meds wore off. He didn’t want to be alone.

“Sweetheart, can I touch you?”

He nodded. A warm, callused hand slid into his and gave it a light squeeze, drawing out a fresh wave of tears that soaked into the knees of his jeans. “Thank you,” he managed in a thick voice. “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh.” Steady weight settled against his side and he curled into it, blocking out the screeching in his ears. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Hurts.” The dull ache had spread to his elbow and into his chest.

“What hurts?”

“I can’t move my arm.”

“Yes, you can.” A kiss pressed against the top of his head and a broad palm rubbed warmth back into his bicep. “You’re all healed up, love.”

“We’re in a hospital.” Remus sniffled and nuzzled closer to the soft t-shirt under his cheek. His blinding panic was fading into exhaustion.

“We came here with our friends to read to some of the patients,” Sirius said. His heartbeat was calm next to Remus’ hammering pulse. “The kids in long-term care.”

“Why did I do this?” he whispered.

Sirius sighed. “You said you wanted them to feel better.”

Remus took a slow breath, letting the air fill his lungs for the first time in a while. “Did I lose it in front of them?”

“No, they had just left.”

“That’s good.” He scooted impossibly closer and wrapped a shaky arm around Sirius’ mid back. “That’s good.”

“How can I help?”

Remus stifled a yawn as the ringing finally subsided, leaving them in a silent bathroom. “I need a minute, but then I want to go home. I don’t think I’m up to lunch with everyone.”

“Okay.”

“And I need a shower.” He knew he smelled fine in real life, but his skin itched with the clinging memories.

“Okay.”

“And—and I need you to stay,” he finally said, choking the words out. “I need you.”

Sirius’ chest rose and fell with a slow breath. “Okay.”

Chapter 51: Parental Figure

Summary:

Moody and Remus after Coops are outed

Chapter Text

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”


“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

Chapter 52: Don't Touch My Goalie

Summary:

Leo gets hurt during a game + goalie bonding

Chapter Text

“And another save by Knut!” Frank called over the roaring of the fans. The Lions were up 3-2 in the last five minutes of the third period—the offensive line had been streaking up and down the ice in an effort to get one more safety goal and secure their win, while the defense locked down any Badger making a push toward the net. In the past six minutes alone, Leo Knut had made eighteen saves on eighteen attempts.

“He is on fire tonight!” Lee agreed. “Only one year in the NHL under his belt, but already proving that he was a good choice to keep by the Lions. Kasey Winters might be a legend, but his apprentice is climbing the ranks just as—Frank, are you seeing this?”

“I sure am, Lee! Number 23 on the Badgers—that’s Henry Bolan for all of you at home—is making a break for the Lions goal! He makes it past Tremblay with a killer fake-out, past Dumais, he’s heading for the goal—oh, ouch.”

“And that was a hard hit on Knut,” Lee said gravely as the referee whistles began to blow and Bolan wobbled away, clearly disoriented. “If we look at the replay, it seems like Bolan’s skate slipped at the last second and he just bodyslammed poor Knut. We’ve got Lions medics on the ice and Knut hasn’t gotten up yet.”

“Oh, and the Lions certainly didn’t like that.” Frank’s voice grew tight with tension. “We’ve got a scrum building. Lee, I don’t see any hockey hugging, and from here it looks like Lupin is the first at the scene. Lupin drops a hard check to Bolan—Bolan bounces off the Captain’s back, then right into Lupin, who shoves him again, and—ooo, that’s gonna leave a mark. Number 23 is like a ping-pong ball out there.”

In the midst of the seething mass of bodies, Henry Bolan staggered to his feet with a hand against his face; the closest cameras were already registering a bruise on his cheekbone from Sirius’ fist. Whistles were blowing even louder than before, piercing through the angry shouts of the crowd as one referee finally stepped in to join a few of the slightly calmer players in breaking up the fight.

“And it looks like Knut is on his feet!” Lee declared. In the net, Leo nodded to the medics and gave them a shaky thumbs-up, and they helped him limp off the ice; the majority of the on-ice players looked rather beaten by the time they were pulled apart.

“We’ve got two-minute penalties all over the place. On the Lions side, closest to us, we can see Black, Lupin, Tremblay, and Potter heading into the box, and they do not look happy about it.”

“No, they do not, Frank. They certainly do not.”


“Easy does it,” Finn murmured as he looped Leo’s arm around his neck and guided him toward the bench. He was still wheezing a little as he tried to catch his breath—it broke Finn’s heart, and he leaned his head against Leo’s temple in support. “You’re okay, Peanut.”

“Lemme know if we win, yeah?” Leo’s jaw ticked with a wince.

“Knut,” Arthur barked as he hurried over. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m good, Coach. 23 just got me good.”

The medics were already dispersing back to their places, so Finn didn’t feel bad about winding his arm a bit tighter around Leo’s waist and giving his side a soothing rub. “I’ve got him, Coach,” he promised. “Gotta get some gauze for my nose anyway.”

“Take him straight to the PT office,” Arthur ordered. “Moody will be there in a few.”

“What happened?” Leo asked as they headed down the tunnel.

Finn grinned at him, though it was strained from his worry. “You had a legion fighting for your honor, Knutty.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Were you part of the legion, or did my boyfriends sit this one out?”

“Where do you think this came from?” Finn scoffed, gesturing to his bloody nose. “Come on, baby, you think Lo’s ever going to pass up a chance to be valiant?”

“I think it was an acci—ow—accident.” Leo grimaced as Finn helped him sit on the table. “23 wasn’t gunning for me, or anything.”

“Well, it’s all taken care of now.” Finn dampened a paper towel in the sink and wiped the blood off his own face, then took a new one and gently ran it over Leo’s forehead and the back of his neck. He never liked feeling sweaty for long. “And now I get to take care of you for a bit.”

“Is Kasey out there?” He craned his neck to see the TV screen and Finn pulled him back by the chin. “Hey, I wanna watch!”

“You need to sit here and let me help,” Finn insisted. Not that I can do much other than make you comfortable.

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I talk to Loops more than you do.”

“First of all, no you don’t, and second of all, what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Osmosis,” he said confidently as he kissed the tip of Leo’s button nose. “I absorb PT expertise just by being near him.”

“Or you could just go get him from the bench,” Leo said drily. “I didn’t see him on the ice when we left.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Finn’s smile turned devilish as he dabbed at a small cut over Leo’s eye. It was already scabbing over, but he still hated to see it. “He and Cap tag-teamed your attacker.”

“That sounds weirdly sexual.”

“They did it on accident,” Finn continued, not paying him a lick of attention. “But still. Bolan just kinda bounced between them for a second before Cap decked him. It was really funny until Mills punched me in the nose.”

The sides of Leo’s mouth tilted into a frown. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just fine,” he assured him. Cheers erupted down the hall. “Sounds like Bliz is doing a pretty good job out there.”

The frown deepened. “Yeah.”

Finn’s stomach twisted and he sat down next to him, taking one freckled hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“His thigh was bugging him yesterday. I told him I could handle today.”

“And you did. Beautifully.” Leo still wasn’t looking at him, so he gave him a light nudge. “Come on, honey, you made a million saves in this period alone. You’re a fantastic goalie and this isn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

Somehow, Finn didn’t believe him. He never got the chance to protest, though, since a buzzer went off outside and more hollering drowned out any chance of comfort. They sat in silence, Finn rubbing Leo’s back until he rested his head on his shoulder with a slow exhale. “I’ve got you, Knutty,” he said softly.

Leo settled into the crook of his neck. “I know.”

The door burst open—in a flurry of movement, Logan was standing in front of them with his skates slung over one arm and both hands cradling Leo’s face. “Are you alright, mon amour? I saw the hit, but I couldn’t get through to you and—”

“I’m okay,” Leo interrupted with a light laugh. He kissed Logan’s forehead and squeezed his hands. “Really, Lo, it was just a hit.”

Logan’s eyes darkened. “A dirty hit.”

“It was an accident. Most people don’t yell, ‘oh, shit’ before they crash into someone.” Finn shared a skeptical look with Logan and Leo rolled his eyes. “Both of you are worse than my mom.”

Someone knocked the doorframe and all three of them looked up, startled. “Sorry for the interruption,” Sirius said as he entered with a sheepish smile. One side of his left eye was already bruising. “Had to grab some ice. How’re you feeling, rookie?”

Leo shrugged one shoulder; Finn didn’t miss his stifled flinch, and judging by the scowl on Logan’s face, he wasn’t the only one. “Been better, been worse.”

Sirius hummed. “Take care of yourself. Have dinner, then get lots of sleep.”

“I know,” Leo groaned. “All three of you are terrible.”

“Don’t talk to your captain like that.” Sirius flicked him lightly on his shoulder pad with a grin.

“Can we have the nice one come in, instead?”

“The nice one is currently nursing a split lip and it’s my job to stop him from forming a personal vendetta against Bolan for the rest of his goddamn life.” Sirius ruffled Leo’s hair as he passed. “Harzy, Lo, you’re in charge.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Harzy, you’re in charge.”

Finn smiled. “Really?

Sirius paused in the doorway and heaved a sigh. “Apparently I’m in charge. Again. Perpetually. Drive safe, you three.”

“We will!” they chorused.

Leo shook his head as soon as Sirius was out of sight. “You two just can’t help but push his buttons, can you?”

Logan kissed his forehead and began hiking up his jersey. “It’s a sibling thing. Arms up, Peanut.”

Finn got to work on the buckles while Leo let Logan pull the jersey over his head. “What hurts?”

“Nothing much.” They both paused and fixed him with a look. Leo rolled his eyes. “Everything from my hips to my neck.”

“What kind of hurt?” Finn traced the edge of a purpling bruise on his ribs with the pad of his thumb. “These look nasty.”

“My pads got wrenched around a bit,” Leo admitted. “Feels like carpet burn in some spots, but otherwise just normal stuff. I didn’t feel anything break.”

Logan tore his gaze away from the red-raw stripe across his sternum and kissed him gently. “I should have hit him harder.”

Music from the TV in the corner of the room popped their bubble and Finn looked over to see Kasey on the screen. A microphone appeared in the bottom left, shoving toward his face. “Bliz, what are your thoughts on tonight’s game?”

“I think we played really well,” Kasey answered as he pulled the tape off his socks.

“And Knut? Getting knocked out this early in the season—”

“He didn’t get knocked out,” Kasey interrupted. Finn glanced over and saw the sadness return to Leo’s eyes. “He got hit, and from what I saw, he’s doing fine.”

Another reporter pushed their way to the front. “What do you think of that hit from Bolan?”

“I think he should have been paying more attention to where he was going.”

“Would a more experienced goalie have been able to avoid it?”

Leo’s shoulders drooped; Finn slid closer to his side. “I don’t know,” Kasey said. His eyes had darkened with annoyance. “But what I do know is that Leo Knut is one of the best goalies in the league, and that if he could have gotten out of the way, he would.”

“Yes, but if you were in that position—”

“But I wasn’t. Leo did exactly what he was supposed to do. Not every hit is avoidable, and ignoring his forty saves this game to try and compare us over one collision is not only disrespectful to him, but to me as well. I won’t talk shit about Knutty. He’s a great goalie and a great friend. End of story.”

The interview cut back to the press room. “Peanut?” Logan said softly.

Leo sniffled. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” His lower lip trembled and Finn pressed a tissue into his hand as Logan sat on his other side. “I feel like shit.”

Finn splayed a hand between his shoulder blades and moved it in gentle circles. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I saw him coming at me and didn’t move out of the way.” He sniffled again. “Fuck, Kasey shouldn’t have even been in that game. He coulda gotten hurt out there, and that would have been my fault, an’ I should’ve been able to just do my job.”

“You did your job,” Finn assured him. “You did it so, so well. I saw that hit and there was nothing you could have done unless you wanted to give him an open shot at the goal. We know that. Coach knows that. Kasey knows that. He knows his body, and if he didn’t think he could play, he would have told coach before going out.”

Leo nodded, but didn’t look up from the crumpled tissue in his hands. Finn met Logan’s eyes over his back. “How can we help?” Logan asked with a kiss to the shell of his ear.

Leo scrubbed a hand under his eye. “A hug would be nice. Just…gentle. Everything—everything hurts right now.”

Finn made a soft sound and wrapped both arms around him, exercising every bit of caution in his body as he and Logan created a cocoon of warmth and affection. Leo’s breaths hitched a couple more times before evening out, and he sank into their hold with a hum. “Tell you what,” Finn said after a few heartbeats, tilting Leo’s chin up until those pretty blue eyes finally looked at him. “We’re gonna go home and take a shower, and then Lo will grab you some ice while I make hot cocoa and we can watch some movies in our pjs.”

“I’m really tired.”

Finn shrugged one shoulder. “Then we can take a shower, get some ice, and go to bed.”

“You don’t want to cuddle an ice pack.”

“We want to cuddle you,” Logan corrected, propping his chin on Leo’s shoulder. “You can even be in the middle.”

Leo opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded, resting his forehead against Logan’s. “That sounds really nice, actually.”

“We’ll do one more check-in with Moody and then head out, okay?” Finn nuzzled against his neck until a sunshine smile broke through at last. “There we go.”

For the second time that night, their peace was interrupted by a knock on the doorjamb. “Well, you look like you got run over by a horse,” Kasey said bluntly as he crossed the room, only to engulf Leo in a hug. “You fucking killed it out there tonight, Knutty.”

Over his shoulder, Leo squeezed his eyes shut and held on tighter, despite the fact that his bruises were probably screeching at the movement. “I’m sorry you had to play.”

“No apologies.” Kasey pulled away and held his face in his hands, giving his cheeks a squish. “You were on fire, and I can’t think of anyone who could have done it better than that. Shit happens. Goalies get targeted. You handled it like a champ.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Harzy, Lo, be gentle.”

“We’re so gentle!” Finn protested.

Kasey leveled them with an unimpressed look. “You two are as gentle as overgrown puppies on caffeine. If you don’t take care of him, I’ll know.”

“I’m telling Alex you threatened me!” Finn called after him.

“Let’s do it, Harzy, I know how to get him on my side.”

The door closed behind him with a light click. “Asshole,” Finn muttered with a fond smile. Kasey had accomplished in two sentences what he and Logan had been trying to do for ten minutes; if Alex hadn’t done the same for him as a kid, Finn would have been shocked.

“Feeling better now?” Logan asked.

Leo was battered, and exhausted, and definitely still in pain. But he was smiling as he kissed each of them on the cheek. “Much.”

Chapter 53: Mochi

Summary:

Sirius stress-baking

Chapter Text

“Sir’us?” a tired voice asked from the kitchen door.

Sirius jumped a little, then hissed in pain as his mochi ball began burning the pad of his thumb. “Ow, fuck, fuck, fuck, ow—

“ ‘s goin’ on?” Remus’ footsteps were soft on the floor; his body was warm as it pressed along Sirius’ back. “Woke up, n’ you weren’t there.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said, peeling a hunk of hot, sticky dough off his finger. It didn’t do much, and he quickly dunked both hands in his cornstarch pile to soothe the sharp pain.

Remus nuzzled between his shoulder blades. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Is it?” He glanced at the clock and winced—it was just after one in the morning, and had been nearly two hours since he grew too restless to stay in bed any longer. The fresh bandaid on his cheek itched.

“Come back to bed,” Remus said, giving his flour-coated shirt a tug. His voice had gone low and husky from sleep, coming from the deep part of his chest that Sirius loved so much.

He pressed a kiss to his curls, flat on one side from the pillow. “These will be done in about half an hour, okay?”

Remus sighed through his nose and looked up at him; no small amount of exasperation and concern had replaced his drowsiness. “I know you. It won’t be half an hour.”

“The recipe says it only takes 25 minutes.”

“And you’ve been down here forever.” Remus cast a glance at his dusty shirt, then sighed again. “Come on, baby, let’s shower and go to bed.”

“It’s not done,” Sirius protested as bed-warm hands closed loosely around his wrists.

“Come back to bed.”

“Can I at least put it in the fridge to finish tomorrow?”

Remus pressed his lips together, but released him; the tugging resumed the moment Sirius closed the door. “What happened?” Remus asked as they trudged up the stairs.

“Just got in my head.”

“About…?” When Sirius didn’t answer, he turned and ran his first knuckle gently along Sirius’ jawline. “Is it your face?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. The cut was deep and surrounded by burns from scraping against the ice; the medical team had told him it would certainly scar. Sirius had plenty of scars and rarely thought of himself as vain, but it bothered him to know the image people respected would be marred. It hurt like a bitch, too, which certainly didn’t help.

Remus wove their fingers together again without so much as a flinch at the gooey texture of leftover mochi and guided Sirius into their bathroom, flicking on the lights with a disgruntled noise. “It’s always too bright in here.”

“Really?”

“At 1:30 in the morning, it is.” Sirius felt exhaustion begin to creep in along the edges of stress and overthinking as he stepped under the hot water—Remus’ hand was light on his arm, and when he looked down, he was met with worried hazel eyes. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”

Since the hit, Sirius filled in for him. “I’ll be alright,” he answered honestly. “It threw me off my game and I’ve been stressing about it a lot after that press conference. I don’t like all the cameras when I have this thing on my face.”

A smile played at the edge of Remus’ mouth. “You never like the cameras.:”

“True.” Sirius obediently bent his head to let Remus wash the puffs of white flour and starch from his hair and closed his eyes to bask in the feeling. He would never get tired of Remus’ touch, nor the way he placed a lingering kiss to the edge of the bandaid on Sirius’ cheek. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s better than letting you stay down there and stew by yourself.” The water washed away the tension knots in his shoulders. “You wouldn’t have left that kitchen until those were perfect.”

“Yeah.”

“Gimme your hands.” With far more care than Sirius would have given himself, Remus scrubbed the sticky dough from between his fingers and carefully inspected the mild burns on his fingertips before exhaling through his nose. ‘You need to be more careful with yourself when you’re baking. First there was the lemon grater, and then slicing the chocolate, and now this…”

Sirius kissed his forehead. “I really didn’t know it would be that hot.”

“Be gentle with yourself. Please.”

Somehow, Sirius didn’t think he was talking about the mochi anymore. “I will.”

“Okay.” Remus nodded, then leaned up on his toes to wrap his arms fully around Sirius’ neck and pull him in for a hug. “No matter how you heal, I’ll always think you’re the most handsome man in the whole world. I’m the last person to judge you for scars.”

“I’m worried about everyone else,” Sirius said into the steam-reddened skin of his shoulder.

Remus stepped back and cupped his face in his palms, running a thumb along each cheekbone despite the waterproof bandage. “If they only like you for your looks, they’re ignoring the million more things your family loves about you. The things I love about you. I’m sorry you’re hurting, and I’m sorry you don’t feel good about this, but I promise it’s going to be alright.”

They were silent for a moment as Sirius let the words soak into his body alongside the last suds of soap. “You always know what to say.”

Remus shut the water off and handed him a towel. “Come back to bed, baby. We don’t have anywhere to be in the morning.”

Sirius didn’t think he would sleep for a long time when he pulled a clean shirt on, but within moments of curling up against Remus’ chest, he was out like a light.

Chapter 54: Hey, Brother

Summary:

Dumo snaps at Logan; Logan and Cap bonding

Chapter Text

The car rumbled. Dumo’s hands squeaked on the wheel as he flexed his fingers. Logan felt like he was going to throw up.

Can we turn around real quick? No, too vague. Can we go home so I can use the bathroom? No, he’ll say I can wait another ten minutes. I forgot my phone at home? No, he saw me put it in my pocket. Logan ran through every possible way of asking to go back to the Dumais house without giving away his dilemma; with each scenario, they grew further from where he needed to be.

“Hey, Dumo?” he began quietly, swallowing around his dry mouth. What was it his father always said? Honesty is the best policy. “We need to go back to your house for a moment.”

“We’re already running late,” Dumo said, not even sparing him a glance in the rearview mirror. The traffic around them was a mess. “If we go back, we’ll miss the first part of warmups.”

“I know, but it’s kind of important.”

“So is the game. If it’s your wallet, you don’t need it right—”

“I left my skates by the front door.”

Dead silence filled the car as Dumo slowed to a stop at the fourth red light. Logan’s heart sank and his stomach crawled into his throat. “What?

“I left my skates by the front door,” he repeated, staring at his hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“Tabernak, Logan!” Dumo snapped. He felt something inside him wither and die. “First the nap, then forgetting to wash your jersey, and now you left your fucking skates behind? What’s going on in your head? You are an adult now with responsibilities, and it’s your job to keep track of your shit.”

“I know,” Logan said quietly.

Dumo huffed. “Clearly you don’t! Do you just not care? Is that it?”

“I care.”

“This isn’t a college team, Logan.” Dumo’s accent grew harsh around his name. It had been a bad day for him—Adele came down with a nasty cold just after Celeste left to visit her parents for the weekend, and there was always an added pressure with home games. Logan knew that, and he knew he should have been paying better attention.

“I know.”

Dumo muttered a curse under his breath and pulled onto a side road, then swore again when his duffle bag slid in the passenger seat. Logan closed his eyes; there was no way they would make it all the way to the house and back to the rink in time for pre-game rituals. Damn it, Tremblay. What were you thinking?

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Dumo parked the car with a quiet “go”, and Logan hurried inside with a slight nod to the babysitter as he grabbed his skates before slinking back to the car with his head hung low.

“I’m really disappointed in you,” Dumo said when they reached the freeway again.

“I’m sorry.”

He received no response.

They won the game despite skipping all their superstitions, no thanks to Logan. He played like shit; Arthur barely gave him four shifts the whole night. Finn shot him a concerned look as he rinsed off and slipped back into his street clothes, but Logan didn’t have the energy to confront both his best friend and the upsetting feelings connected to the aforementioned best-friend-slash-secret-crush. If he tried, he’d certainly end up doing something stupid.

He packed his things, slung his bag over his shoulder, and followed Dumo out to the car like a stray dog with his tail between his legs. “I really am—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dumo interrupted as they pulled out of the parking lot. Logan pressed his lips together. “Are you hungry?”

Starving. “Kinda.”

“I’ll heat up some leftover lasagna when we get back to the house. Will you pay the babysitter and make sure the kids are in bed?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

Logan ground his teeth around the steady ache building in his chest—he hated disappointing people in general, but it was a whole different story with Dumo. He was his second father, the person Logan admired most on the team. He gave him a home and a substitute family to ease the homesickness, and was always there to cheer him on. And Logan let him down.

They went through their nightly routine silently, which was a sharp contrast to their usual banter. Marc and Louis refused to go to bed at first, nearly bringing Logan to tears in his frustration, but he eventually got them settled down and tucked in. By some miracle, both the girls were already asleep.

“I’m going to call Celeste,” Dumo finally said as Logan unloaded the dishwasher. He nodded without a word, not trusting his voice.

As soon as the dishwasher was full and running, Logan took his phone out and dialed the only person he wanted to hear from. It rang twice before connecting. “Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Hey, Cap, what’s up?”

“Not much.” Sirius sounded confused, and more than a little tired. “Ça va?”

Logan’s eyes burned. “Not bad. Do you have a minute?”

There was a rustling noise from the other end, followed by the clink of keys. “You’re at Dumo’s, right?”

“Oui.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks,” he managed around his tight throat. “See you soon.”

Hushed voices came from the living room and Logan padded down the hall, knocking gently on the doorframe. Dumo looked up and furrowed his brow. “Un moment, mon amour. Are you alright?”

“Sirius is coming by in ten. We’re going to hang out for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Tell him I say hello.” Without another word, Dumo uncovered the base of his phone and returned to his conversation. Logan nodded and headed back out into the hall, swallowing down the tears forming behind his eyes.

Ten minutes turned out to be seven minutes—Logan was simultaneously flattered and concerned—and a soft knock startled him out of his thoughts. Sirius already looked worried when the front door swung open. “What happened? Is everyone okay? Did something happen to Celeste?”

“She’s fine. Dumo says hi.” And he’s horribly disappointed in me. Logan took several deep breaths through his nose to control the tremor in his voice and Sirius gave him a worried once-over. “Can we drive around for a bit?”

“Of course.”

For all of his bluster and general brooding vibe, Sirius continued to be the king of empathy and (in Logan’s opinion) a secret mind-reader. The second his arm draped across Logan’s shoulders and held him close as they walked down the sidewalk, he felt some of the pressure in his chest release. “Sorry about the late call,” he sniffled. It was a cold night—the snot threatening to drip from his nose was frigid already. “I just—I needed to get out for a minute.”

“À tout moment.” Any time. Logan didn’t feel deserving of that kindness after the mess he had been on the ice. The heaters kicked on as soon as Sirius started the car and Logan closed his eyes, leaning back into the warm seat. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“It’s so stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Logan took a moment to breathe before shaking his head. “I forgot my skates. We were already running late, and I forgot my fucking skates at the house.”

Sirius hummed, but said nothing.

“It’s—Dumo has been having such a horrible day.” Tears clogged his throat again. “And I took a nap earlier because I stayed up late last night like an idiot, and Adele’s sick so he had all the kids and no help while he was trying to get ready, and then I overslept so it was already going to be rushed and forgot to clean my jersey and then—and then I forgot my skates. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.” Logan wanted to kick him for being so infuriatingly patient. Sirius glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s not why you’re upset, though.”

“He’s—” Logan broke off and swiped the first tear away with his sweatshirt cuff. “He said he was disappointed in me.”

“Ah.”

“It’s such a stupid thing to be upset about.”

Sirius sighed through his nose and pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour Taco Bell, then turned off the car and faced Logan with one eyebrow raised. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Belittling yourself.”

“Okay, Heather,” Logan snorted. Sirius reached over and flicked him on the forehead. “Hey!”

“You forgot your skates. Big deal. We’ve all been there.”

Logan shot him a glare. “You’ve never forgotten your skates.”

“Yes, I have. My very first game with the Lions, actually. Except I didn’t realize it until we were already at the rink.”

“Did Dumo drive you back?”

“The whole damn way. He was mad as hell, but he did it.” Sirius’ face softened, and he poked Logan gently on the thigh. “Stop kicking yourself for this one. It sounds like it was a bad day for you both.”

“I still feel like shit.”

Sirius shrugged. “I bet. Disappointing Dumo is the worst feeling ever.”

“He wouldn’t even let me apologize.”

“He will.”

They sat in silence for a full minute as Logan tried to find the right words. “How did you deal with it? Letting people down. It feels like I’m drowning, sometimes.”

“Really, really poorly,” Sirius half-laughed, crossing his ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t until I was named captain that I started accepting that people weren’t lying when they forgave me for fucking up.”

“Why?”

“Believe it or not, the people I was around as a kid didn’t make a habit of apologizing to me when they did something wrong.”

Logan looked up from the faded letters on his sweatshirt sleeve and sniffled. “Thanks for bringing me out here.”

“Pas de problem. I figured you could use some company outside the house.”

“You’re the best.”

“I try.”

“You succeed.” You’re like a brother to me, actually. “Is this what James did for you?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. Affection took over his face, bright even in the dim light from the streetlamps. “No, he snuck me onto the roof of the rink with massive amounts of junk food and stayed with me until the imposter syndrome faded. It was fantastic, but we nearly got hypothermia several times in the winter. This is much more comfortable.”

“Thanks for helping me keep all my fingers and toes,” Logan said wryly. He lapsed back into silence and folded his forearms on the dashboard, sighing at the pleasant stretch of his back. “I know I have to go back eventually, but I’m scared.”

“Honestly, Logan, I bet he’s already forgiven you. He knows it was an accident.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” The words came out as little more than a whisper. Sirius’ hand rested hesitantly between his shoulder blades until Logan leaned back into it, then began rubbing gentle circles.

“He does,” Sirius said softly. “And he loves you so much.”

Logan sniffed back more tears. “Really?”

“Ouais. You’ve been living with him for nine months now, and he’s so proud of how far you’ve come.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me. Last week, after your hat trick. People fuck up, Logan, but that doesn’t mean they’re unforgivable. You don’t need to flay yourself for one bad day.”

Logan shut his eyes with a slow exhale and buried his face in his forearms. “I think I’m ready to go back now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“D’accord. Buckle your seatbelt.”

He straightened up and stretched, wincing at the crack of his back. Sirius drove out of the parking lot and hummed under his breath to the radio, but Logan didn’t miss the careful glances out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he finally said. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Sirius said casually, though he looked like he was holding something back. Logan didn’t press; Sirius would talk in his own time if he wanted to. He opened his mouth, paused, then sighed. “But I do worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Thank you, Captain Black, for the most media answer of all time. “You really don’t have to.”

Sirius parked the car and leaned his head back against the seat. “You’re my friend, and I care about you, so I worry.”

Logan blinked at him. “You care about me?”

“Obviously,” Sirius muttered. Even in the darkness of the street, his cheeks were pink. “Now go on, you’ve got someone waiting for you.”

“I care about you, too.”

“Out of my car, Tremblay.” Despite his words, a smile quirked at the corner of Sirius’ mouth. Logan socked him lightly on the arm and opened the door, shivering in the night air as it bit through his hoodie.

“Drive safe, Cap.”

“I will.”

The walk to the front door felt less like a trip to the gallows and more like coming home; Logan felt his muscles relax, and saw the curtains shift as someone moved away from the window. Dumo opened the door before he could even knock.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison. Logan raised his eyebrows and Dumo opened the door the rest of the way, ushering him inside.

The moment the door closed behind him, Dumo wrapped him in a hug. “I’m so sorry for what I said earlier, Logan. You made a mistake, and I shouldn’t have come down hard on you.”

“I’m sorry I made us late,” Logan said into his soft shirt. “And for not helping earlier. It won’t happen again.”

“All is forgiven.” Dumo patted him on the back of the shoulder and held him at arm’s length with a sad smile. “I should have kept a better handle on my temper. You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”

Logan bit back the urge to say it’s okay or I deserved it and instead pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I didn’t realize how much you’ve helped me until today.”

Dumo made a quiet sound and held him tighter. “It’s a gift to have you here.”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of emotion rolled in his heart. “There is nowhere I would rather be,” he whispered. They stayed like that for a long moment, swaying slightly, before Dumo stepped back.

“Get some rest. We have early practice tomorrow.” He mussed Logan’s hair and gave him a nudge toward the stairs. “Bonne nuit, mon fils.”

Mon fils. Logan’s breath caught for a second and he smiled. “Bonne nuit.”

Chapter 55: All-Canadian Reject

Summary:

Regulus is rejected from a university

Chapter Text

Regulus sat in front of his computer and stared at the screen, not even reading the words anymore. They had already burned themselves into his mind—there was no need to crack through the scab of shock so soon. People were talking outside the front door, laughing as they jangled their keys and dragged their duffel bags along; he had no energy to tell them to fuck off and leave him alone.

“We’re home!” Sirius shouted as footsteps tumbled over each other in the foyer.

“You’re so loud,” Remus laughed. “He’s only a staircase away.”

“I’m here,” Regulus said hoarsely.

“Reg?” Sirius called. “Are you still here?”

Regulus cleared his throat and blinked for the first time in over a minute. His eyes burned. “I’m here.”

There was a pause before Sirius came around the corner into the living room. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, leaving his duffel behind. Remus gave him a concerned look as he hauled both bags into the laundry room and closed the door behind him. “Reg?”

“Hmm?” Regulus snapped his eyes away from Remus’ retreating back. “Sorry, yeah, I’m here.”

Sirius’ gaze flickered between his face and the computer; he settled himself in the chair next to Regulus with a wary look. “Are you alright?”

“Mhmm.” His throat was so tight it ached.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s fine.” Regulus sniffled, blinking rapidly. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Sirius’ brows drew together. “Did maman call you?”

“No,” Regulus almost laughed. The idea was so absurd he could hardly handle it. “No, uh, I got a response from that Honors Program I was looking into. They said no.”

“Reg,” Sirius began, soft and reassuring.

“It’s fine,” Regulus repeated as his heart gave a hard wrench. We’re sorry to inform you…had a fantastic application…lots of applicants…no matter how they worded it, the email had been clear as day. They didn’t want him. He wasn’t good enough. “I’m overreacting.”

“You were excited about this,” Sirius said. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Thanks, Heather.” Hurt flashed over Sirius’ face and Regulus felt regret mix with the roiling wreck of emotions in his gut. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Did they tell you why?” Sirius asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Regulus swallowed hard, bracing himself. “I didn’t have enough official academics. They wanted something more concrete. And, y’know, I haven’t been in a classroom for over a year. They—they want me to take it slow. ‘Get back into the groove’.”

“Shit,” Sirius muttered.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t quick enough to hold back one stray tear, and it tracked all the way to his cheekbone before he caught it. “Yeah. Shit.”

“Can I help?”

Regulus shook his head silently, biting hard on the inside of his lip. Sirius sighed through his nose and scooted over to wrap a tentative arm around his back, rubbing up and down his shoulder. He closed the computer screen with his free hand, and Regulus hung his head to hide the handful of tears that escaped. “I’m okay,” he managed.

“I know.” Sirius hesitated, then gave him a light squeeze. “But it’s alright if you’re not. This sucks.”

“It does.” His stomach hurt from choking down his sobs. Ever since he left the NHL, it seemed that he wasn’t good enough for anything. Not good enough for two of his top three choices, not good enough for the Honors Program, not good enough for people to listen to what he had to say. He closed his eyes as his head began to throb.

“This isn’t a failure,” Sirius said quietly, bumping his cheek against Regulus’ head. “You know that, right? This isn’t your fault.”

“They’re my grades.” His voice was clogged somewhere deep in his throat.

“And you weren’t allowed to focus on anything but hockey. You didn’t have a choice, Reg. You did the best you could with what you had, and I’m sorry they don’t think that was enough.”

He sniffled, leaning closer to Sirius. “But I want to be enough.”

The confession was little more than a whisper, barely audible over the distant hum of the washing machine. Sirius let out a slow breath and kept him under his arm, though Regulus felt his breath catch. “You’re worth more than what other people think of you.”

Regulus wasn’t sure anyone had said that to him before. He wondered how long it took Sirius to make himself believe that.

“You will always be good enough,” Sirius added. “Always.”

A shiver ran through him; Regulus felt small in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Small and protected, but still hurting. “Can we make hot cocoa?”

“Course we can.” Sirius gave him a gentle shake, then pulled him to his feet for a proper hug. “You’re brilliant, Reg. If they can’t see that, it’s their loss.”

Chapter 56: Talking Smack

Summary:

Kink gone sideways

**TW for smut/ spanking, anxiety, past child abuse

Chapter Text

Sirius’ hand came down with a sharp smack, and Remus moaned into the sheets. “Good?” he asked.

“Again,” Remus begged, shifting across his lap. “Again, again—”

He broke off with a gasp as Sirius spanked him a second time, then a third, then a fourth, until he was squirming and Sirius’ palm itched from the impact. Remus’ ass was already turning pink to match the aroused blush on his neck and face; his eyebrows pitched in pleasure with each resounding hit. “I don’t think you’re supposed to ask to be punished,” Sirius said as he grabbed a handful of one cheek and smacked the other.

Remus’ mouth fell open, his breaths coming in short pants. “Oh, fuck, harder.”

Six.

“Harder!”

Seven. Remus’ leg jerked as he whined and pushed back into Sirius’ hand; his skin was red-hot and matched Sirius’ thundering pulse, smooth and soft and so pink it had to ache.

Sirius blinked. It had to ache.

“More,” Remus moaned.

“No.”

Silence fell over the room. Remus shuffled around until he could prop himself on one shaky elbow and look up, brows furrowed. “What?”

“Flamingo.” Sirius swallowed hard when he saw a handprint—my handprint, oh my god—standing stark against Remus’ creamy skin. His arousal warped into horrible, gut-wrenching regret. “Holy shit, Re.”

“What?” Remus craned his neck to look back. “Am I bleeding? What happened?”

The mere thought of Remus bleeding make Sirius’ heart lurch and he hurried to rub gentle circles over the raw skin, ignoring the sting in his palm as he pressed gentle kisses to Remus’ face. “I hurt you,” he mumbled. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so—I’m sorry, I should have been paying better attention, and now…”

Confusion and worry mixed in a hurricane on Remus’ face. “Why are you sorry?”

“I hurt you.” The words were broken glass. “I—you can see my whole hand on there.”

“Really?” Something eager and excited dripped into Remus’ voice before fading like sand through an hourglass. “Baby, you didn’t hurt me. I asked you to do this. It felt really good.”

“I…” Sirius patted his hip helplessly and tried to ignore the mark, but it was so bright and so red and it had to just burn. Remus had asked him for a solid spanking, but surely he couldn’t have meant that.

“Sirius?” Remus’ voice pulled him away from his spiral as he sat up on his knees and cupped Sirius’ face in one palm. “What’s going on? Why’d you safeword?”

“I can’t believe I did that,” Sirius whispered, pulling him in for a hug and closing his eyes. Remus was warm and solid, made of muscle and bone that Sirius never wanted to hurt in a million years. He had to be kept safe; Sirius had to keep him safe. “Oh, mon loup.”

“You’re scaring me,” Remus said quietly. “I thought…I’m sorry, I should have checked with you more often.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry.” Sirius pulled away to cradle his jaw in his hands, suddenly desperate. “I’m sorry. This—I hurt you, Re, and I promise I didn’t mean to but I did and I’m sorry.”

Remus’ eyes flickered between his own for a moment as he ran his hands up and down Sirius’ forearms. “I wanted you to do that, baby,” he said, kissing the side of Sirius’ thumb in clear bewilderment. “I asked you to go harder because I wanted to feel it. Did you not want to?”

“No, I did.” And that was the worst part. Some part of Sirius had been on board to turn Remus’ skin that terrible pinkish-red, and liked it. His throat clogged. “I can’t do that to you, though. I can’t hurt you.”

“Okay,” Remus soothed, pulling him close until he could hide his face in a warm shoulder. Sirius was vaguely aware of the tremor in his arms and torso, but he was more focused on making sure his touches were light and gentle. Remus deserved gentleness above everything else. “Okay, I think we got our wires crossed somewhere. I promise I’m alright. You did exactly what I asked you to, and it felt so good. I think we should talk about this before jumping to any assumptions, yeah?”

“How do you like it?” Sirius asked hoarsely. “I hurt you. There’s a mark.”

Lips pressed just below his ear for a moment. “You like it when I bite you, right? When I leave bruises?”

Memories floated to the surface of Remus’ mouth finding purchase on his skin, nibbling, scraping, kissing, biting. Each tingling bruise sent lightning bolts through Sirius’ limbs—that spot between his neck and shoulder always made his vision go fuzzy when Remus sucked a hickey there. “I do.”

“And I like it when you spank me,” Remus said with a light laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I like it when it’s just a pat, or when it’s a little harder and you’re trying to rile me up, or like you did a few minutes ago. It feels good. Having your handprint on my ass is, like, one of the sexiest things I can imagine.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose and raised his head to meet Remus’ eyes. The faint bit of glimmery light in the lovely amber vanished almost immediately. “But you get it, right? I hit you.”

Remus bit his lip. “Yeah, I think I do. I’m sorry we didn’t talk about it more. Can we—can we try that now?”

“Talking?”

He nodded and laid back against the pillows; Sirius followed him, feeling more than a little awkward and ashamed, until they were face to face with their legs intertwined. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

“I can go.” Sirius took a few deep breaths and licked his lips. “This is going into shitty childhood territory, d’accord?”

Remus shifted closer and kissed his forehead. “Got it.”

“I—when I was growing up, hitting someone meant they did something wrong.” His throat and chest were tight, but he chose his words carefully, and after a few breaths they began to flow a little easier. “My parents didn’t spank me, but they hit me when I messed up and sometimes that left marks. I don’t—I promised myself I would never do that to anyone, especially not you, and even though I knew that you liked it and I knew that it was a sexy context, it’s hard for me to wrap my head around that. When I think about hitting someone or getting hit, there’s nothing good about it. I love you so much and seeing my handprint on you was awful.”

Remus was quiet before he let out an unsteady breath and linked their fingers together. “I didn’t even think about that. Sirius, I am so sorry.”

“I’m okay now. It was just a lot, in the moment.”

“I bet. How can I help?”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip, then squeezed Remus’ hand. “I know you’re into it, but please don’t ask me to do that again.”

“I won’t,” Remus said immediately. “I won’t, I promise. That was never on the table. Is there anything else that you don’t want to do?”

“Anything that involves hitting you hard. I really like smacking your ass, but not…like that. Just little pats and stuff. But the mouth bruises are wonderful and you can leave those any time you want.”

“Little pats,” Remus repeated with a nod. “Absolutely.”

“Your turn.”

He hummed, playing with Sirius’ fingers. “Everything about you is so handsome and beautiful, but I really have a thing for your hands. I love having them on me, even outside of bed, and I always get goosebumps when you pat my butt kind of hard. Like I said earlier, it feels good. It might not have come across super clear, but I wanted you to leave a mark, so you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry for not paying more attention to how you were feeling.”

“You didn’t know,” Sirius said simply, kissing his nose. “Is there anything you wanted me to do instead of this?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “Just touch me. Little pats on the butt are always welcome, and I’ll tell you if that changes. Having you and your hands on me is more than enough.”

Sirius leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow, moving one hand up to curl over his hip and pull him closer. Remus’ skin was warm under his touch, but not the same pulsing heat from before—he showed no sign of sensitivity as Sirius slid his hand further around to grab ahold of one side of his ass. “Take two,” he mumbled into Remus’ mouth between heated kisses.

Remus smiled against his lips and grazed his teeth across the bottom one. “Think you’ll be up for take three, too?”

Chapter 57: Hazards

Summary:

Finn gets hurt by a Tampa player; good big brother Alex

Chapter Text

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.


Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Chapter 58: Mighty Ducks

Summary:

Sequel to Hazards (prev); O'Knutzy and Hattie at home

Chapter Text

Leo peeked around the corner of the kitchen, moving his arm so Logan could see as well. “I think they’re having fun,” he whispered.

“We can hear you,” Finn said mildly without taking his eyes off the screen. He was bundled in their softest blanket with Leo’s goddaughter tucked snugly in his arms; Hattie cocked her head at them, her tongue lolling out as Finn rubbed her belly. “Oh, yes we can, baby girl.”

The microwave ended its cycle with a cheerful ping! and Leo pulled a bowl down from the cupboard, ignoring Logan’s scowl. “I was going to get it,” he groused.

“You can get it next time,” Leo assured him with a kiss to his cheek. “Hold the bag open for me?”

Butter, salt, pain meds, and a glass of water. He paused for a moment to run through his mental checklist before handing the bowl to Logan and heading back into the living room, snuggling up against Finn’s side with as much care as he could manage. The skin above his cast was still a bit purple, and his fingers were swollen as they combed Hattie’s soft fur. “It’s just getting to the good part,” Finn said as he made room for Logan.

“The whole thing is the good part,” Logan said absently, popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Hattie wriggled around to sniff at the bowl and turned big, pleading eyes on Finn when he held the bowl out of range.

“I’m sorry, Floating Nose, but I can’t give it to you.” She snuffled and laid the aforementioned nose on his lap. Leo’s heart clenched; Finn leaned his head against the back of the couch. “One kernel.”

“But only because you’re a very good girl,” Leo informed her as Finn fed her one piece of popcorn from the clump in his hand, then another. “And you’re not allowed to tell your dads.”

Finn buried his face between her pointy ears, inhaling deeply. “You smell like bubblegum and joy,” he mumbled as she stole the rest of the popcorn from his hand. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“Hey!” Logan protested, tossing a kernel at his forehead. “You have to wait until we’re out of the room to say that!”

Leo ran a palm down Hattie’s back, marveling at the glossy waves that were oddly similar to the captain’s own hair. Her tail thumped rhythmically as Finn pressed kisses all over her neck and head. “We’re gonna have so much fun tonight,” he cooed. “You get to sleep on our bed, ‘cause we don’t have anywhere else to put you! No, we don’t, darlin’! God, you’re adorable.”

Finn finally sat up straighter with a long sigh. “This is the best remedy for being hurt, like, ever. This dog has healing powers.”

Logan made kissy noises until Hattie squirmed her front half onto his lap, then stretched her legs out so Leo could continue scratching her belly. “Je t’aime,” he said, playing with her ears. “Oui, Hat Trick, je t’aime beaucoup. Mon chou, mon bonheur.”

On screen, the Ducks scored a goal; all four of them looked up at the same time. “Movie night is not complete without a dog,” Finn said, settling back into the cushions with his head on Leo’s shoulder and his good arm around Logan’s back, pulling him over for a cuddle. “Or a cat. I go both ways.”

“We know you do,” Leo teased, resting his temple on Finn’s. The clock hit eleven pm and he stifled a yawn—post-game nights often spelled bedtime the moment they came home, but they had been too keyed-up from worry to settle down right away. Now, under the comfort of blankets, a dog, and each other, he was quite ready to pass out cold.

“I love you,” Logan said quietly in the darkness.

Leo smiled to himself. “You read my mind.”

“Less talking, more Mighty Ducks,” Finn murmured. Hattie huffed. The night was good.

Chapter 59: Laundry Day

Summary:

Reg calls Sirius for help in college

Chapter Text

Sirius was almost done with his lasagna when the phone rang. “Come on,” he groaned aloud, glaring at the ceiling. His dinner had been interrupted no less than three times by different members of the team asking about pre-season details that were already in their goddamn emails. “Can it wait thirty more seconds?”

The phone continued to ring. Sirius cast his pasta one more longing look and grabbed the phone without checking the caller.

“Hello?” he answered, well aware of how grumpy he sounded.

A few moments of panicked breathing followed on the other line. “I fucked up.”

Sirius dropped his fork. “Reg?”

“I fucked up,” Regulus repeated shakily. Something was whirring in the background; Sirius heard no other voices. “I think—shit, I definitely did.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” Sirius instructed as he stood, already patting his pockets for his car keys. “Do you need help?”

Regulus sniffled. “Yeah.”

Shit, shit, shit, what did you do? “Tell me where you are.”

“The laundry room.”

“The—what?” Sirius paused halfway to the front door. His heartbeat was pounding pretty loud in his ears, but it sounded like Regulus said…

“The laundry room.” Another sniffle. “In my dorm. I fucked up.”

Sirius was quiet for another moment before he blinked and shook his head. “Back up. What is happening right now that you need help with?”

There was a rustling noise on the other end of the line. “So—so I know you’re supposed to separate dark and light clothes, and I always put all of mine on ‘normal’ at your house, but there are so many settings here and none of them say ‘normal’ so I don’t know what to do and I’m definitely going to fuck up all my clothes—”

“Okay, okay, stop,” Sirius interrupted as Regulus began talking faster with each word. For the time being, he was going to ignore the fact that Regulus had been washing everything he owned on the same cycle for nine months. “Just hold on a second, ouais? What are the settings on the washing machine?”

“Uh, there’s delicate, cold, warm, hot, and towels.”

“Thank you.” Sirius sat down at the table again and pushed his pasta out of the way so he could prop his elbows up. “I don’t think you have to worry about the delicate cycle—”

“Why not?” The edge of panic returned to Regulus’ voice. “How do you know?”

“Do you wear bras, Reg?”

A beat of shocked silence passed. “No.”

“Then you don’t have to worry about it. Have you already separated the dark and light clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Good job, that’s important.” Sirius listened to his breathing slowly even out and gave himself a mental high-five. “Now, most clothes have a tag on the inside that will tell you how to wash and dry them. A lot of the dark clothes will ask for cold water, which makes it easier. Read through those and make piles, okay? Towels and sheets have instructions, too.”

“Will you—” Regulus trailed off, then lowered his voice. “Will you stay on the phone?”

“Of course.” Sirius leaned back in his chair as the sound of shifting fabric and humming machines filled the air; a few different sets of footsteps came and went in the time it took Regulus to methodically make his way through. “How’s your second week going?”

“C’est bien.”

“Made any friends yet?”

“Sort of.” Regulus paused for a moment and Sirius heard the sound of a zipper. “I’m supposed to zip pants and things, right?”

“Oui. Otherwise they’ll rip your other clothes.”

“Cool. Um, yeah, I’ve made a couple friends. It’s kind of difficult during orientation, though.” Sirius waited patiently for Regulus to continue—he recognized the hesitation in his voice. “How’s Leo?”

“Misses you.”

“I miss him, too. Give him a hug for me, ouais?”

Sirius smiled to himself. “I’ll be sure to pass it along. How’s the laundry coming?”

“I just got the warm water ones in. How much detergent should I use?”

“Are there marks on the cap?” He wracked his brain for any memory of which brand they had sent Regulus off with; they didn’t often use the liquid kind at home, so it was no surprise he was confused. “Does it have numbers below the lines?”

“Oui!”

Sirius let out a breath of relief. “Fantastic. The numbers mean how many loads you’re putting in. Right now, you’re going to fill the cap to the ‘one’ line and then pour it wherever it needs to go.”

There was a creak. “Do I need softener or bleach?” Regulus asked skeptically. “Because there are little wells for both.”

“Not right now, no.”

A few seconds passed—Sirius heard a familiar jingle play, then a rumbling as the washer started up. “I think I got it,” Regulus said, clearly astonished.

“Congratulations,” Sirius said with a grin. “I never had to use one of those things, so you’re finally better than me at something.”

“I’m better than you at a lot of things,” Regulus teased, though his pride was audible. “Thank you, Sirius.”

“Any time.”

“Sorry for interrupting your night.”

Sirius shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You can call any time and I’ll pick up.”

Regulus shuffled his feet a bit on the other end. “It was kind of a stupid thing, though. I could have looked it up.”

“It’s not stupid,” Sirius said gently. “And I’m glad you asked me instead of getting a bunch of different advice from the internet. You can call for anything.”

The phone was quiet for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. If you need more help with the dryer, I’ll be here.”

“Miss you.”

Sirius closed his eyes as his heart gave a tug. “Miss you too, Reg. We’ll be up for parent weekend, d’accord? Two months.”

“Two months,” Regulus repeated; Sirius could practically hear his smile.

Chapter 60: Just Because

Summary:

Sirius is triggered by something small

**TW past child abuse

Chapter Text

Remus wasn’t a huge fan of the term ‘keyed up’. It made no sense—was it a musician thing? Some sort of weird archaic saying like ‘hold your horses’ or any of his mom’s million idioms? There were so many better phrases to describe the twitchy anxiety that built until it overflowed, ones that made much better sense.

But in that moment, the only words that came to mind to describe Sirius were ‘keyed up’.

He had been walking on eggshells all day long for no discernable reason, as far as Remus could tell. They had woken up just fine, but the second they started their morning drill run in the basement rink he just…seized up. Sirius had gone very quiet and his shoulders inched toward his ears; in the last four hours, they had exchanged maybe six words.

Remus was really, really good at giving people space. He was exceptionally bad at letting his friends suffer alone.

“Baby?” Sirius jumped a little as Remus entered their bedroom with a soft knock—a quizzical, guarded look flickered to him before returning to the sock drawer. Remus frowned. “Are you re-folding our socks?”

“They weren’t matching,” Sirius said under his breath, methodically taking apart yet another roll where grey and white socks had been thrown together by an absent mind rather than put with their mates. “It’s—it just bugged me.”

“You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

Sirius hummed, but Remus saw his throat bob and felt his heart sink as he crossed the room to sit crosslegged at Sirius’ side, not quite touching, but close enough to see every rigid line of him. He took one mismatched pair of socks from the floor to help, but Sirius silently took it back and put it in the pile by his knee.

“Sirius,” Remus started quietly.

“I’m fine, Re.”

“Did I do something during drills this morning?”

“No.”

He tugged on a stray carpet thread as worry settled heavy in his gut. “Can you give me a ballpark?”

Sirius paused, then turned to him in obvious confusion. “For what?”

“Whatever I did to upset you.”

He blinked twice before shaking his head. “Oh, no, Re, you didn’t—no, I’m not upset at you. Of course I’m not.”

Some of the weight lifted—thank god it wasn’t me, he selfishly thought—but the tension had not drained from the planes of Sirius’ face. Carefully, he shifted until they were pressed up along their sides and felt light pressure in return. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius sniffed and returned to the sock pile; Remus could tell by the glazed look in his eyes that his hands were moving on autopilot. How long have you been doing this? Anxiety attacks usually resulted in far more visible symptoms, but the small-scale ones often made Sirius find something repetitive to do. All things considered, folding socks wasn’t a bad coping mechanism.

“Tape.”

His train of thought snapped like a candy cane. “…what?”

“The, uh—” Sirius tapped the fingers of one hand together without looking up. “The stick tape. It’s different than our usual kind.”

“You’re upset because of the tape?” Remus asked. They had used an extra roll from the back of their box—not his personal favorite, but it would do until they picked up the other brand.

Sirius licked his lips. “My dad always got that kind.”

“Oh.”

“It’s too sticky,” Sirius said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Smells weird. I couldn’t get it off my hands and the texture was bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgot I still kept that around.” He let out a humorless laugh as he placed another sock roll in the basket. “It was all I bought at first, but I threw it out after I knew I could stay on the Lions.”

Quiet fell over the room. Remus bit down hard on the inside of his lip to hold back his words.

“My first act of rebellion,” Sirius muttered.

Remus hesitated for a moment, then reached up and tucked the curtain of hair hiding Sirius’ profile behind his ear, trailing his fingers down with little more than a whisper of a touch. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s a silly thing to be upset about. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Sirius—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I know, I’m not bothering you when I talk about my problems, I just don’t like doing it. There was nothing you could do to fix it, anyway.”

A pinprick of hurt shot through Remus’ heart. “It’s better than watching you stew for hours with no idea what’s going on, baby. I thought you were in pain, or sick, or something.”

“That’s how I learned to hold a stick right.” Sirius’ voice lowered so far Remus swore he could hear a pin drop in the bedroom. Another rolled sock settled in the basket. “I used to hold it sideways, so I’d—I’d tape my hands in the right spot until I could do it on instinct. I didn’t realize how much the stickiness still bothered me and even after I washed my hands they still felt wrong and these are soft so they…balanced it. A bit.”

Do not cry. Remus took a slow breath, then a second. Do not cry. He swallowed around the itch in his throat and wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist with a soft “c’mere”, not trusting his voice for anything more. Sirius went willingly, letting the next dark blue sock slip from his fingers as he rested his head on Remus’ shoulder. “I love you,” Remus said once he was sure the waver was under control.

A warm palm wrapped around his wrist; Sirius’ thumb drew invisible patterns on his skin. “For folding the socks?”

“No.” Remus shook his head and placed a lingering kiss to the top of Sirius’ curls, giving him a squeeze. “No, I just love you. I’m sorry about the tape.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.” I’m sorry you ever thought you had to do that, I’m sorry they put that idea in your head, I’m sorry you were never given the things you deserved. He kept the bridge of his nose against Sirius’ temple until the urge to build a time machine and reverse all the shitty things that happened in his childhood subsided. “Did you take your meds today?”

“Yeah.” Sirius shifted to curl closer under Remus’ arm. “After drills, though. It helped, but not all the way. I’m just…blegh, right now.”

“Keyed up,” Remus said quietly.

“Exactly. This is nice.”

Sirius was warm on his ribs and thigh, his heartbeat coming in steady thumps beneath Remus’ hand. There, staring at his familiar, callused hands, it was hard to imagine anything like what Sirius had described. He held a stick like he was born for it—like it was second nature. Sirius was sure of himself and trusted his muscle memory for so much, and yet he still trusted Remus to hold him when his anxiety spiked through all that hard work.

A heavy exhale left Sirius’ lungs and Remus closed his eyes. “Why do you love me?”

Walburga and Orion, rot in hell. “There’s no need to sound so incredulous about it,” Remus said wryly to hide the ache in his chest. He kissed Sirius’ head again, then his forehead, then his cheekbone, nuzzling into the soft warmth. “I love you just because.”

“…just because?”

“Just because,” he confirmed. “I can’t possibly love you any more than I already do, except I say that every day and I’m wrong every day.”

Sirius pulled the cuffs of his shirt down over his hands and laced their fingers together, bumping his nose into the hinge of Remus’ jaw with a tired smile. His lashes were a bit damp at the ends. “Je t’aime, mon loup,” he said into Remus’ pulse point. “Je t’aime tellement. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“You’re the best part,” Remus whispered. He took a deep breath as the burn of tears started behind his eyes and rubbed Sirius’ back in a slow circle. “Of all this, you’re the best part. And it makes me upset to hear about the people who told you that you’re not, but that doesn’t mean I want you to stop talking to me about it. If there is anyway I can help you, I want you to tell me so that we can do it together. You’ll never be a burden.”

A shiver ran down Sirius’ spine and he adjusted to lay his head properly in the crook of Remus’ neck with a contented hum; he went easily when Remus gathered him closer for a proper hug, one where he could soak in the magnetic pull Sirius had on his heart. Mine and mine forever, he thought, propping his chin up to look at their shared closet space. It was messy and mixed, with the bottoms of Sirius’ shirts hanging several inches below Remus’ in the same section.

They had shit to do that afternoon—practice wasn’t until late, but their to-do list never seemed to end—and yet Remus couldn’t bring himself to care. There was nowhere he would rather be than the floor of their bedroom, holding the whole future in his arms.

Chapter 61: Drop the Gloves

Summary:

Young Remus gets in a fight at school

Chapter Text

Hope loved her son. He was kind, and funny, and sweet, and brilliantly clever, and still had those squishable little cheeks even at almost ten years old—it was impossible not to love him.

But sometimes…sometimes she questioned his decision-making skills.

“Mr. Lupin,” the principal began, leaning over the desk with his hands folded. “Would you like to explain yourself?”

“He deserved it.”

Hope closed her eyes. Not he started it. Not he was being rude.

He deserved it.

“Remus,” she said quietly. “I think Mr. Delano was asking what happened.”

“Your son hit mine, that’s what happened!” the pinch-faced woman in the opposite chair snapped, pulling the little boy next to her even closer. “Unprovoked!”

“It wasn’t unprovoked!” Remus protested.

“Mr. Lupin—”

“It wasn’t!” Beneath the smudge of a bruise covering his left eye, Remus’ gaze was fiery when he looked to Hope. “Mom, Aiden was being unkind. I asked him to stop and he kept going and then I hit him.”

The principal raised his eyebrows. “So you admit that you hit him?”

“He did,” Aiden whined with a nod of his head. He was significantly bigger than Remus (though that wasn’t saying much), and yet he still shifted away when Remus whipped around to face him.

“And I’d do it again!”

Remus!” Hope scolded, turning him back to face her with a finger under his chin. “Remus John Lupin, that is unacceptable behavior.”

“But mom—”

She held her index finger up and he fell silent with a petulant pout. “We do not solve problems by hitting people, Remus. I don’t know what possessed you to think that was a good idea, but we’re going to have a further conversation at dinner tonight with Dad, alright?”

“A further conversation?” Aiden’s mother seethed. “Just look at my son’s face!”

“Look at mine!” Hope countered. She had to admit, Remus’ scowl made his black eye look quite a bit more intimidating than the swelling near Aiden’s nose. For a scrawny kid, he could pack a punch.

“Alright, I think we’re done here,” Principal Delano sighed. “Thank you both for coming in today. Remus will serve two weeks of detention for injuring another student. I expect better behavior from both of you in the future.”

Hope stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I think he was quite clear,” Aiden’s mother said frostily.

“You’re not even going to let Remus explain? Or punish Aiden as well for hitting him back?”

Principal Delano shrugged. “Aiden was defending himself.”

“He wasn’t!” Remus interrupted before Hope could speak, clutching the arms of the chair. “Aiden was calling Lucy really horrible names and then he hit me after I told him to stop!”

Aiden’s cheeks flushed. “That’s not true—”

“Don’t be a liar—”

“I’m not a liar!” Aiden wailed.

“You were saying bad words to her!” Remus hollered back, just as loud.

“That’s enough!” The boom of the principal’s voice sent all of them into silence. “Remus, two weeks of detention. Aiden, five days of no recess.”

“Five days?” Hope and Aiden’s mother exclaimed at the same time with wildly different tones of voice.

Principal Delano took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Jones, it is undeniable that Aiden did, in fact, injure another student. Mrs. Lupin, seeing as your son was the instigator—”

“Have you asked Lucy what happened?” Hope asked. “Considering she’s the one who was apparently being bullied by Aiden in the first place.”

He shook his head. “Let’s not make this any more complex than it has to be.”

“My son isn’t a liar,” she continued, keeping her voice as steady as she could make it. In her periphery, she saw Remus look up in surprise. “Anyone who knows him knows that he is kind to everyone. It’s entirely unbelievable to me that Remus would hit another student unprovoked and then lie about the cause when he already knew he would be punished. He was wrong to resort to physical action but I am appalled by your lack of fairness and attention to the truth, Principal Delano.”

The room was quiet for a moment before he exhaled through his nose. “One and a half weeks of detention for both of the boys for fighting on the playground. That much is undeniable. Thank you for your time.”

Hope kept a hand between Remus’ shoulder blades as he grabbed his backpack and guided him toward the hallway with a bitter tang in her mouth. “Keep your son in line,” Aiden’s mother hissed as the principal’s door closed behind them.

“I could say the same to you,” Hope answered coolly. “At least mine isn’t a bully.”

The cold autumn air outside was a balm on the embers of her fury; unfortunately, the tough part wasn’t over. She waited in the driver’s seat without turning the car on as Remus fiddled with the cuffs of his coat, sneaking glances at her every few seconds. “You’re mad at me,” he finally said, hiding under his floppy bangs.

“I’m not mad. We don’t hit people outside of hockey, Remus.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“He kept calling her names, even after we told him to stop.” He sniffled, rubbing his forearm under his red nose. “An’—an’ so I yelled at him, but he pushed me, so I punched him in the nose.”

She reached over to smooth the front of his hair out of the way and trail a thumb over his bruised cheekbone. It was hot to the touch and swelling fast. “And then he hit you?”

Remus nodded. “And then I hit him again. It was kind of a lot, to be honest. I think I skinned my knee on the concrete.”

Hope sighed and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and down the familiar route back to their house. “I’m not going to appeal that detention, because fighting is not allowed, but I’m sorry Principal Delano didn’t listen to you. And I’m sorry you felt like you had to hit Aiden in the first place.”

“He was being so mean. I don’t understand why people say those kinds of things.” He chanced a look at her again before clenching his hands around his sleeves again. “I don’t regret it, mom. Lucy’s my friend.”

“I know, baby.” She kept her eyes on the road and reached over to ruffle his hair. “You’ve got all this justice and nowhere to put it, huh?”

“It got me in trouble.”

“Sometimes justice gets us in trouble,” she agreed. “And that’s really tough to deal with. Next time, try and find a way to beat him without throwing a punch, okay? More people listen if you talk to them.”

“Aiden doesn’t listen.”

“Well, then you talk a little louder. God knows you’ve got a set of lungs in there somewhere.”

He looked at her in suspicion. “Are you telling me to yell?”

“I said no such thing,” she answered with a wink, pulling into the driveway. “Come on, let’s get you some ice for that battle scar.”

Remus slung his backpack over his shoulder once the car was off and began trudging through the thick banks of fallen leaves coating the sidewalk, but Hope reached out and caught his shoulder just before the base of the stairs; he melted into her hug with a hitching breath. “I was so mad,” he said thickly.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rubbed some warmth into his back. “I know, love, I’m sorry.”

“She’s my friend and then nobody would listen and my eye hurts really bad,” he hiccupped, balling his fists in the thick wool of her coat. “I’m still angry.”

“It’s okay to still be angry, Remus.” He sniffled again and she knelt, digging a crumpled tissue out of her pocket to dry his tears and the snot from his nose. Alright, Lupin, time for a Mom Moment. “Things like that happen sometimes. I am so beyond proud of you for standing up for Lucy when she needed help. Hitting him wasn’t the best choice, but everything leading up to that was very mature. The most important thing is knowing that you won’t be angry about this forever.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, bending for one more hug before following her up to the house. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Well, it’s not every day I get to show up because my kid got in a rumble at school,” she teased. “Let’s get some soup in you and some ice on you, slugger.”

Remus offered a mischievous grin as he kicked his shoes off. Little menace, she thought with no small amount of pride. “It was a pretty good punch, huh?”

“Good enough to get you two weeks of detention that you get to explain to your father when he gets home.”

Chapter 62: Bottled Up

Summary:

Remus and his feelings

Chapter Text

Looking back, Sirius didn’t remember how it started. Could’ve been a passive-aggressive comment. Could’ve been the wrong mix of emotions combining between them like magnesium and oxygen, burning hot and vicious and angry the way they never were and swore not to be. Could’ve been the little bits of his brain that were still damaged from 24 years of walking on eggshells.

But the beginning wasn’t important, when they had shouted and flushed furious red and gone for each others’ jugulars in some horrible parody of anyone’s relationship but their own. Even the middle wasn’t the cause of his pain, that godawful limbo where Remus had stormed out to go for a walk and Sirius stormed off in the other direction as if neither of them were hurting.

It was the end that mattered.

Remus hadn’t spoken a word to him that wasn’t brutally serene sarcasm in five hours and 26 minutes. His expressive face was neutral; his stained-glass eyes flared with emotions only to carefully go blank once more.

The dial tone rang once, twice, three times.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Sirius all but sighed.

“Hey, sweetheart, how’s it going?” He could hear Hope clattering around on the other end of the line—she was always busy, but made it look so easy. Even her voice was as calm as the waves lapping the beach.

“It’s…” He faltered, closing his eyes. Remus was still somewhere in the neighborhood, and he was alone in the house for the first time in a long, long time. “It’s not great, actually.”

The clattering stopping. “Are you hurt?”

He liked how she used ‘you’ to refer to both of them. Somehow, it still comforted him. “No, we’re both fine. I just had a question for you.”

“Sirius.” Her voice gentled around his name like a hug from hundreds of miles away. “What happened?”

“What does Remus do when he’s angry?”

Her slow exhale crackled over the line. “It depends on what caused it, love.”

Tears burned the backs of Sirius’ eyes. “Like what?”

“When he’s angry with others, he gets loud. He came home with more than one black eye because kids liked to pick on his friends at school.” She paused and he heard the familiar creak of their living room couch. “He gets quiet when he’s angry with himself. He gets quiet, and he tries to push everyone else as far away as he can, even though he doesn’t like it.”

“I tried to talk to him.”

“I know you did. Lyall’s good at easing in around the edges, but I think you and me are a little too alike sometimes.”

Sirius watched the cold, crisp wind scream through the trees in their backyard. He hoped Remus remembered to bring a scarf or some gloves. His cheeks and nose would be bright red when he returned regardless. “What about when he gets sarcastic?”

Hope was quiet for a moment. “You know, I’ve never quite figured that one out. He wasn’t like that as a child. But if I had to guess…if I had to guess, I think it comes down to hating it when other people help him.”

“But I don’t know how to fix it,” Sirius said, well aware of how pathetic he sounded. Remus’ eyes had been bone-dry and burning while they yelled at each other before his voice went brittle, as if someone sucked all the life out of him and left a husk behind. It was disorienting—Remus was always a steady anchor with a steady pulse.

He heard Hope hum from her cozy living room and could practically feel her slender hand touch his shoulder in comfort. “I don’t know how, either. But you will. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. On the other end of the house, the front door opened and closed without the previous slam. “I’ll call, okay?”

“I’ll be here. Love you both.”

“Love you, too.”

His heartbeat was loud in his ears and jaw; Remus was in the kitchen, riffling through the cabinets with none of his usual smooth movements. Sirius took one more deep breath before he slipped his phone into his pocket and went to rip the bandaid off in one fell swoop.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Remus didn’t look up from the mechanical motions of his ham-and-cheese sandwich. You hate that cheese, Sirius thought as he leaned on the doorway. You told me it tasted like Finn’s socks, then laughed when I asked how you knew that flavor in the first place. It had been a real laugh, too—one that crinkled his eyes and nose and dimples and made his shoulders hitch up toward his ears.

“Can we talk?”

“We’re talking.”

“Remus—”

“Don’t Remus me.” His tone was still hollow, but there was a spark of something shaky behind it. “I’d rather just make my sandwich and wallow for a bit, if that’s alright with you.”

“You’ll hate it.”

“Wallowing? Well, that’s the whole point.”

“The sandwich.” Sirius put his hands in his pockets and did not look away. He was tired of fighting and of Remus trying his damndest to push him away. It might have worked on everyone else, but Sirius Black was a stubborn son of a bitch and he planned to use it to his advantage. “You don’t like that combination.”

“Stop it.” The words were clipped.

“It tastes like socks.”

“Sirius. Don’t.”

He shrugged one shoulder as Remus’ fingers closed unsteadily around the top piece of bread. “And you know what? I kind of agree, now that I think about it.”

His golden eyes weren’t flat when he glanced up, which was at least one step in the right direction. “We’re not going to pretend everything can just go back to normal right now.”

“I don’t know why you’re angry, Remus.” The kitchen was silent. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I wish I did. Whatever it is, you’re not this angry because I forgot to bring down the dishes from our bedroom.”

“Maybe I am,” Remus bit out.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said honestly. He was sorry for it—Remus had asked him twice whether there was anything upstairs before he started the dishwasher and Sirius hadn’t bothered to check. It was a dick move, one that certainly warranted an irritated sigh and small tiff. Not something that called for a blowout fight that left them both emotionally bloody.

“Yes, I know, you told me already.”

“I meant it. I still do.” He didn’t move from his place in the doorway as Remus took a bite of his sandwich and grimaced while he chewed. “Please tell me why you’re angry.”

He made it through a whole second mouthful without spitting the sandwich out before he braced his hands on the countertop and finally, finally looked at Sirius. His expression was a perfect mask, just like the kind Sirius had made for himself for so long. “I posted a picture before we went to bed last night. My best guess is that some asshole found it and got their friends together, but I woke up to almost sixty people calling me a whore and the article below that was about the game where I missed four passes and then you didn’t fucking listen when I asked you to grab the cups from our bedroom, so pardon me for not being able to just Loops my way out of this one.”

He took an unsteady inhale and stared at the countertop with his back and shoulders in a rigid line as Sirius fought the growing lump in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, fuck, Sirius, maybe I didn’t want to!” he blurted, louder than before. Remus bit down hard on his lip and looked to the ceiling. “Believe me, I know I’m not being fair to you and I know this is incredibly selfish so please don’t point that particular fact out right now.”

It took every ounce of Sirius’ self-control to stay put. “I wasn’t going to.”

Remus shook his head and a tear rolled down to his chin; Sirius didn’t think he even noticed it. “God, I got so good at just letting things roll off, Sirius. You have no idea how good it felt to be able to breathe through all the bullshit and be a supportive friend and get good with having everything I used to care about get ripped away. It took six years but I did it.”

Sirius watched as three more tears tracked over his windburned cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not ashamed of it.” His throat bobbed for a moment. “You told me that I always say the right thing but I don’t think you know how hard I tried to do that. It takes so much effort to give, and give, and give, and right now it feels like I have nothing left.” He met Sirius’ gaze, tearstained with a bitter smile, and half-shrugged. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in the whole world and I love my friends with everything I have and I can’t be enough for any of you.”

Sirius’ heart gave a hard tug on his stomach; his throat was raw. “Yes, you are.”

“I can’t give everything I used to. I just can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.” The last word almost cracked and he swallowed hard. “Remus, I don’t care whether you let everyone’s problems roll off you. I don’t want you to pull yourself apart like this to try and make us all happy. I love you, not what you can give me. Just you.”

“I have been so horrible to you today,” Remus said hoarsely.

“And I was horrible right back at you.”

“I tried to work it out by myself and I couldn’t do it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“And—and this sandwich fucking s—” Whatever he was going to say broke off into a harsh breath and he was sobbing, bent against the counter with his face in his forearms. Sirius was struck with the sudden realization that while he had seen Remus cry before, he had never seen him cry. Not like that. Not like the world was ending or like he had been holding something back behind a dozen walls of meticulous care so that nobody got caught in the flood when it finally came crashing down.

Sirius’ hand slipped around his waist right as his knees buckled under him; in one easy, slow pull, he held Remus close and let him fall to pieces in his arms. He was gasping more than breathing, mumbling more than talking, and yet he rested every ounce of his weight on Sirius with absolute trust that they wouldn’t fall.

“It hurts,” he blubbered after a few minutes. His fingers held the front of Sirius’ shirt in a death grip. “The names, and how it feels like—like I’m never gonna be good enough again.”

Sirius wrapped his forearm up around Remus’ shoulders, practically cocooning him as his wheezing breaths filled the kitchen. “You’re so much more than enough, mon amour,” he said into his sweaty curls. “I’ll love you forever.”

“Don’t say that,” Remus begged, going lax for a moment before pressing himself even closer. “Don’t say that, you can’t promise me—”

“Yes, I can.”

No—”

“Yes, I can,” Sirius repeated. All his limbs felt like popsicle sticks in the wind but there was no way in hell he was even going to consider dropping Remus. “I can and I will and you can’t stop me. I will love you forever, and I’m sorry you doubted that for even a second.”

Remus’ chest caved against his own. “I didn’t. I hated those people and I hated myself but not you. Not for that.”

A lot of people—most people, if Sirius was being honest—thought Remus was the more stable half of their little universe. To an extent, they were right: Remus could find his even keel much quicker than Sirius could. He could compartmentalize and prioritize like nobody Sirius had ever seen, and his ability to soothe someone with a few simple words and a soft smile was nothing short of a superpower.

Sirius’ problem had always been that he felt too much, too deep, and tried to kick it away before it introduced itself. He was coming to learn that Remus’ problem laid in trying to speedrun through the deep emotions to return to that same laid-back calm. In a way, they were two sides of the same coin.

His breathing smoothed out after almost ten minutes; the gut-wrenching sobs and tremors became the occasional sniffle and an exhausted nuzzle into Sirius’ sternum. “I love you,” Sirius said once more for good measure.

“I love you, too.” His voice was wrecked—a hot shower and some tea would remedy that easily enough.

Sirius kissed the ridge of his cheekbone and let his lips linger. “I’m sorry about the cups, Re. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

A heavy breath left him as he stepped back just enough to raise his head. “Thank you,” he said with an earnest look and a pat to Sirius’ lower back. “I was pretty upset about that, actually.”

“I know. I was an asshole about it and you had every right to be upset.” He bent down as Remus popped up on his toes to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to delete the post entirely, or do you want me to take down those comments?”

A furrow appeared between his brows and he laid his head on Sirius’ chest again, shuffling closer until their bodies were pressed together all along their fronts. “It’s not the picture’s fault. I like it and I want to keep it up. We can delete the comments and block the accounts later, but right now I want to take a bath with you, if that’s okay.”

“That sounds really nice.” Sirius let his fingers splay over the swooping planes and angles he loved so well and rubbed a few gentle circles just because he could. “Re?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’d love you in any universe. If you were still the PT, if you were a player, if you used all that cleverness to become a professor instead, anywhere. In case you didn’t know.”

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?”

A puff of breath cooled on his upper arm. “Will you spoon me after the bath?”

Sirius hid his smile in the closest tumble of curls. “Course I will.”

Chapter 63: Comfort Zone

Summary:

"Please pretend to be my boyfriend so I can avoid my creepy ex", ft. the Lions at a bar

Chapter Text

The night had started well—horribly, terribly well, in hindsight. It was the first time Megan had been able to actually go out with her friends instead of being forced to stay home and work overtime because her stupid fucking ‘team leader’ couldn’t get himself together and learn how to use Excel. The night had been warm, the drinks were good, and her new lipstick stayed perfectly intact, just like the package promised. She felt brilliant.

Brilliant until a cloud of cheap cologne named Seth sidled up to her and refused to leave.

“Come on, babe,” he wheedled, trying in vain to put his arm around her waist.

“Don’t call me that,” Megan repeated for the third time. Her pulse was pounding almost as loud as the bass of the music. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

“Let me buy you a drink. Just one, for old time’s sake.”

“No.”

“Babe—”

“I’m not your babe!” she finally snapped.

Seth’s lip twitched. “There’s no need to be a bitch about it.”

“We’re done,” she reminded him. “I’m not your girlfriend and I’m not your babe.”

“We’re not done done,” he scoffed, leaning further into her personal space. Megan kept her eyes firmly on the mouth of her drink; she had spent eighteen months under that creep’s gaze and didn’t want a repeat performance. But Seth had never been a good listener, even when she finally lost her shit and packed her stuff on the spot before storming off to Kelly’s to take her up on that roommate offer.

Clammy fingers trailed over her forearm. “Don’t touch me.”

“Megs,” he laughed, nudging their shoulders together. “C’mon, let me buy you a drink. We can just chat for a bit and catch up.”

She took a fortifying breath in through her nose. Kelly and Laura had been in the bathroom for an eternity. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You know you do.”

“I really don’t, Seth, so kindly fuck off.”

“I still have one of your hoodies at my place. You should come by and get it some—”

Megan slammed her glass back down on the counter and began shoving her way through the crowds, making a beeline for the women’s restroom. The line stretched out the door; Kelly and Laura were nowhere in sight. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she shouldered past several drunk college students. The room was spinning, caging her in. Seth was calling her name from far too close behind her. She suddenly found herself wishing she had stayed home to put in even more unpaid overtime, and tears burned her eyes.

It was one thing to run into an ex at the grocery store. It was another to run into Seth.

In her blindness, she bumped into something—someone—and bounced right off their chest. “Shit!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the redhead said, holding his glass out of the way so it didn’t slosh all over her new top. His brows furrowed when he saw her face. “Hey, are you okay?”

Normally, Megan would have said yes. Normally, Megan would have continued to the bathroom to go hide with her friends until it was safe to leave. Normally, Megan would not go to a random bar dude for assistance. She swallowed hard as her name echoed over the music again. “Help.”

Bar Dude glanced over her shoulder and his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Yankees cap?”

“Yeah.”

“My friends and I are at the corner table, under the moon sign—”

Megan was moving before he even finished his sentence. Anything was better than putting up with more of Seth’s underhanded comments and dismissal of every word that came out of her mouth. She could handle getting hit on for a couple minutes if it meant he left her alone.

The corner table was packed tight with a group of guys that were just as built as Bar Dude, laughing among themselves with the kind of ease that only came with long-standing friendship. “Heya, Harzy, where you been?” a blond called with a playful grin.

Harzy’s hand was gentle on her elbow as he ushered her into the booth, leaving plenty of space between them before sitting down. The blond’s smile turned to confusion. “Guys, this is…”

“Megan,” she supplied. Thankfully, the quaver in her whole body did not translate to her voice.

“This is Megan, she’s going to be chilling with us for a bit,” Harzy finished. He turned to her and held out a hand, which she shook. “Finn O’Hara.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The blond lowered his voice slightly. “Are you alright?”

She tried for a reassuring smile. “I will be, just needed a—”

“Megan!” Motherfucker. Seth appeared from the crowd covered in sweat—his stupid hat was askew, but he pasted on a sleezy smile when he saw her. “Hey, what happened? You dipped in the middle of our conversation.”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you— “Actually, I wanted to introduce you to someone,” she said with false cheer. Now or never. In one smooth motion, she slid over and planted herself on Finn O’Hara’s lap. “Seth, this is Finn, my boyfriend.”

Seth blinked. “What?”

“Her boyfriend,” Finn said. One arm wound loosely around her waist. “And you are…?”

“That’s my ex,” she answered for him. In her periphery, several of Finn’s jacked-as-hell friends went tense. Something like adrenaline was pumping through her veins. “Seth.”

Finn held his hand out. Seth didn’t take it. “Nice to meet you, man. Did you want to ask something?”

“Yeah, actually.” His pale eyes slipped back over to her; Megan hoped her immediate urge to hurl didn’t show on her face. “Megs, you left a hoodie at my place. You should come pick it up sometime.”

“That’s okay,” she said, leaning her temple against the top of Finn’s head. “You can donate it, I don’t mind.”

His eyes flickered between them. “No, really, it was one of your favorites—”

“She said no,” Finn interrupted in that same calm tone. “But the music’s pretty loud, so I guess you didn’t hear. We can talk more outside if you’d like.”

Seth might have been an asshole, a creep, and an all-around sleezeball, but at least he wasn’t completely stupid. “Nah, that’s cool,” he said after a moment, though his gaze still bored into Megan. She didn’t look away.

Finn gave her arm a pat. “Great. Have a good night, Sam.”

“Seth.”

“Fuck off,” the tall brunet with shoulders like an ox said in a thick Russian accent. Seth took one look at him before vanishing back into the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Finn muttered as she sat back down in the booth. All the pure jock confidence had left him; only concern remained. “Has he been doing that all night?”

“I blocked him on everything,” she said, toying with her rings. The shivery feeling had returned with a vengeance and she shook her head. “It’s been a month since we broke up. I should have known better than to come here.”

“Non,” a shorter man in a backwards cap said firmly. “He should have listened to you.”

The clog in her throat grew larger and she closed her eyes with a shaky exhale. She was so sick of seeing him around; so tired of feeling queasy whenever she remembered how easily she let him break down her self-esteem. “I just wanted to go out with my friends.”

“We can go find them,” the blond said gently. “Or you can hang with us for a bit. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“What are you guys, buff therapists?” she laughed wetly. God, I hope my eyeliner isn’t ruined. It took fifteen fucking minutes to get that wing.

“Hockey players.”

She paused, looking up at last. They did seem a little familiar, but she had never been a sports person… “Like the ones who won the Cup last year?”

Finn’s smile turned smug. “The very same.”

“Do you make a habit of swooping in to save women from creeps between games or something?”

“Nah, Harzy’s just a knight in shining armor.” The blond winked at him across the table. Oh, Megan thought. Oh, that makes a lot more sense. “I’m Leo, and this is Logan. Over here we’ve got Kuny and Nado, Talker, Pots, Loops, and the captain.”

“None of those are our real names,” ‘Loops’ laughed.

Leo shrugged. “Close enough.”

“Oh my god,” the dark-haired man with glasses muttered. “I’m James Potter, and I’m very glad you’re okay. Are you sure you don’t want us to find your friends?”

“They’ll find me,” Megan said. Lauren would lose her mind when she found Megan sitting with the sports team she idolized above all else, and that was something she wasn’t about to miss. Besides, there was no way she was about to stand in a long-ass line when she could sit down and recover instead. The Lions might have been able to bench-press her without breaking a sweat, but they felt safe. Trustworthy. And their ability to scare off a persistent ex in under a minute? Well, Megan didn’t feel too bad about taking advantage of that particular perk.

Chapter 64: Get His Ass

Summary:

Creep hits on Lily at a bar

Chapter Text

Lily loved her lions. It was an easy statement for her to make—somehow, it seemed as if the team attracted the sweetest, most loving, respectful men without sacrificing actual brainpower like many of the other teams she had spent time around. Did they have their moments where she wondered how they survived into adulthood? Of course. Did she feel safer with them than anywhere else? Without question.

Which was why, when some creepy asshole leaned over the side of their booth with his eyes lasered in on her chest and a sleazy smile, she didn’t do much more than grimace at him as all five of them stiffened. “Hey,” Dickhead Central leered. “Got room for one more in here?”

“Get lost,” she said, brooking no room for argument. Fortunately, James was in the bathroom; broken bones weren’t exactly on her agenda for her night out from being a mom.

“Ah, come on, sweetness, make a little space,” he laughed, starting to shove his way into the edge.

Kasey’s mouth twisted. “Hey—"

“Watch your fucking—”

“You’re not—"

“She said beat feet, fucker.” Their instant defense of her went quiet; Lily hid her smile in the rim of her glass as Dickhead Central froze halfway to his seat and looked up from her cleavage, meeting an unblinking gaze. Sirius, Kasey, Nado, and Talker didn’t say a word as her very best friend in the whole wide world folded his hands calmly. Here we go, ladies and gentlemen, she thought. Take your seats, the show is about to begin.

“Excuse me?” Dickhead Central snorted. “Who the hell are you?”

“Her best friend,” Remus replied with the same even tone. “I believe we both asked you to take several steps back and get lost.”

Dickhead’s eyes flickered over the rest of them, but his grin remained despite the thunder written on all their faces. “Alright, I get it. One of you’s jonesing to get a piece of that ass or those—”

“What’s your name?” Remus interrupted. His mouth had gone tight at the edges and Lily saw Sirius’ hand slide over to rest on his thigh under the table. In eight years of friendship, she couldn’t remember a time she had seen him that angry. Watching Remus verbally wreck creepers was always a joy to behold, but suddenly the situation wasn’t quite as fun.

Dickhead blinked, obviously confused. “Chase.”

“Hi, Chase, I’m Remus.” He inclined his head slightly toward Lily. “She’s my best friend, and she told you to leave her alone. If you say one more word about or to her, I’m going to break your nose right here, right now, and you’ll have the pleasure of walking yourself to urgent care tonight. Or don’t. Personally, I don’t give a shit whether you end up with a permanent mark on your face to show how much of an asshole you are.”

“Remus,” Sirius said under his breath. Nado’s bitten-back smile had faded into shock and he shared a look with Kasey. Lily took another sip of her cider.

“No, he needs to hear this.”

Chase’s hand flexed on the leather seat and he glanced down at Lily again, then straightened with a nervous laugh. “C’mon, man, I’m just—”

Lily barely had time to jerk away from Chase’s wandering fingertips before Remus was on his feet and nose-to-nose with him; Sirius caught him by the wrist, but his fist was still clenched enough that his knuckles were white. The tension was so thick Lily swore she could taste metal at the back of her mouth. “Re, this is not the time for a bar fight,” Sirius said quietly, his face shadowed with a clear threat as he looked to the douchebag whose hand was still mere centimeters from Lily’s bare shoulder.

“You his boyfriend?” Chase scoffed. “Should’ve known, you fruity motherf—”

“I spent three full minutes in a plexiglass box two nights ago for getting in a fight with a guy twice my size, so I want you to think real long and hard about what your next words are going to be.” Remus didn’t move a muscle; if it wasn’t for the shallow movement of his chest under his second-favorite button-down, she wouldn’t have known he was breathing. “And I hope you know that even if I didn’t get paid to do that, I would still beat the shit out of you for talking to my best friend that way. Get. Fucking. Lost.”

The rest of the bar was still pulsing with noise, but it felt as if someone had set a dome of quiet over their table. “You’ll be out of this place in under a minute,” Sirius added. It wasn’t a request.

“Woah, what’s going on over here?” A knot of stress loosened in Lily’s chest at the familiar voice behind her and she closed her eyes at the ever-present laughter in his tone. James’ hand was warm as it curled lightly over her shoulder; his lips were soft when they brushed her cheekbone. “Hiya, gorgeous, what’d I miss? The line was long as hell, sorry I was gone so long.”

“You’re her boyfriend?” Chase asked, strained.

Lily glanced up at him as she linked their fingers and pressed a kiss to his ring. “Husband. You have thirty seconds left, by the way.”

Her lions watched him walk the whole way out—there was a moment of hesitation when he paused by a different table, but then the door swung shut and they returned to their seats with a collective exhale. Lily scooted closer to Talker to make room for James and hummed when his arm settled easily across her shoulders, giving her a light squeeze.

“You okay?” he asked, though concern had taken over the usual bounce in his voice and his dark eyes were serious. “You seem upset.”

“Our new friend was staring at my tits and tried to make a move,” she said with a kiss to his cheek. “I’m better now. Missed you.”

What?” Two women at the table closest to them turned at his sudden volume.

“We took care of it, it’s fine,” she assured him.

If anything, that seemed to upset him more. “You’re my wife, Lils, I’m not just gonna let some fucker with a complex try and—”

“James.” She raised her eyebrows and gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m fine. Honestly, I would’ve handled it myself if Re didn’t steal my thunder.”

“It was a pleasure,” Remus said, tipping his glass to her. “Say the word and I will actually send him to urgent care, though. Zero hesitation.”

The furrow between James’ brows remained and he traced the side of his thumb in a soothing circle over the ridge of her collarbone. “What’d he say to you? Do you want to go home?”

Damn you and your heroic streak, James Potter, she thought as she kissed his cheek, then his nose, then the frown at the edge of his mouth before making herself comfortable in his lap. “I’m a big, tough girl,” she murmured, pressing their foreheads together with a playful wink. “We’ve got a babysitter at home and I’ve still got three-quarters of a margarita, so mama wants to get drunk and leave the grease spot in ripped jeans far behind us.”

He sighed through his nose and wrapped both arms around her waist; in her periphery, she saw Kasey make a faux-gagging motion and Remus stifle his laughter in Sirius’ shoulder. “I don’t like that I wasn’t here,” James said a bit petulantly. “You’re my wife.”

“Yep.”

“Nobody’s supposed to flirt with my wife expect me.”

“Agreed. Unfortunately for you, your wife’s hot as hell,” she said with a sympathetic smile, clinking her glass with Talker’s. “The good news is your brother and brother-in-law were ready to throw hands with literally no prompting from me.”

James reached across the table for a fistbump from them both. “Taught ‘em well.”

“She liked Loops before she liked you, dude,” Nado laughed. “In your dreams.”

Sirius shook his head with a grin. “I love you, J, but she would get me in the divorce.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re good friends,” James continued as he hooked his chin over her shoulder. Lily loved it when he held her like that—like she was the cuddliest, softest teddy bear in the universe. When he looked at her with the quiet affection that dwelled beneath all his brash energy and questionable decision-making. He kissed her arm without looking away. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she responded on instinct. “You picked good friends.”

“The best of the best.”

“Lucky man.”

“Luckiest in the whole world.”

Chapter 65: Lay By Your Side

Summary:

Small Coops argument + Sirius has a nightmare

Chapter Text

Downstairs, the front door opened and closed in a rush of movement. Fucker. Remus pulled the blankets further up his shoulder and glared at the wall.

“Re?” Fuck you. “Remus, are you home?”

Sirius kept moving around the main floor; his nonsense mumbling echoed up the stairs and grated on Remus’ ears like nails on a chalkboard. Finally, he heard a sigh, and the footsteps started up the staircase. Don’t you open that door, he thought angrily, balling his hands in the duvet. Don’t you dare.

The door opened a crack, flooding part of the room with soft light from down the hall. “Remus?”

He kept his eyes squeezed shut and said nothing.

“I know you’re not asleep.”

Do I look like a give a shit?

“I’m sorry.”

You better be. When he refused to answer, Sirius exhaled slowly and closed the door, casting them in darkness again. His traitorous brain knew every step of Sirius’ nighttime routine by heart—there was the shuffle of him rooting through the dresser for pajama pants, then quiet footsteps sneaking past into the bathroom to brush his teeth and rinse his face. There was a dull thud and a muffled curse; Remus could only assume it was his arm hitting the wall yet again as he tried to pull his shirt off with the toothbrush still between his teeth.

The sink went quiet. The door creaked open. The mattress dipped behind Remus. Sirius took two breaths before shifting, and a moment later fingertips touched his upper arm.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, mon—”

“Sirius.” His voice was steady, though his stomach trembled and his throat felt thick. He had waited 40 full minutes with no answer before he finally made dinner alone. Sat at the table alone. Took off his nice out-to-dinner clothes and went to bed alone. “I’m really upset with you right now and really tired from waiting up to make sure you made it home safe so I want to go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to go to bed fighting.”

He closed his eyes as his heart yanked. “Sirius, I don’t want to talk to you at the moment.”

Silence fell over their bedroom. He felt Sirius move to lay on his back again, far enough that Remus couldn’t feel his warmth. “Goodnight, mon loup.”

A forest stretched out in his dream, deep and dark and green and cold. Trees reached toward the sky, bowing over each other in a woven canopy that nearly hid the stars as Remus walked through the melting frost covering blankets of moss. It was not a peaceful place—wolves howled in the distance and blurry creatures made his heart pound with unease. But he walked all the same.

A drop of warm water slid down the neck of his shirt and came to rest at his lower back, chasing away some of the wind’s chill. And when Remus was halfway through the arch of a dying nurse log, that little ball of heat jammed into his tailbone.

He jerked awake with a grumble and reflexively reached over his shoulder to stop Sirius from unconsciously rolling right over him, only to pause with his hand barely raised when reality came trickling back. He was angry, and hurt, and—

And Sirius wasn’t okay.

His elbow was flush with the small of Remus’ back, stock-still and a solid pressure as his breaths came in short, shallow wheezes in an obvious attempt to stay quiet. “Sir’us?” he mumbled, dizzy from the abrupt wakeup. The elbow disappeared. “ ‘s wrong, baby?”

“Shh, go back to sleep.”

Even his voice shook. Remus propped himself on one forearm, then both, turning to squint at him in the 3 am shadows. Sirius’ jaw was clenched so hard it had to be painful—his eyes were shut, but something wet glistened on his lashes from the streetlight outside. “What’s going on?” Remus asked, scooting closer to take his hand and carefully pry his fingers out of their tight ball.

Sirius took three deep breaths, in and out without moving a muscle. “I’m okay,” he lied. “Go back to sleep.”

“Talk to me,” Remus said, quieter than before.

“Just a nightmare.” His chest hitched—Remus could hear the tears in his voice as he cleared his throat. “Shook me a bit. I’ll be fine.”

Remus folded his hand between both of his own and kissed the back of it, then closed the short distance and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. He felt him shiver under the touch and pressed another kiss to the peak of his collarbone. “Can you tell me about it?”

“Car accident. You and Harry were with me.” Sirius tentatively leaned closer so his cheek rested against Remus’ temple; after a moment’s hesitation, Remus let go of his hand and moved up the bed so Sirius could tuck his head under his chin with a sniffle. “You were—you were bleeding. Nobody was there to help.”

“No blood,” Remus promised, reaching across his chest to hold him; almost immediately, Sirius curled a hand around his forearm and kept it close. “I’m safe and sound, and Harry’s home.”

“Couldn’t get him out of his seat.”

Remus shushed him softly and tangled their legs together until Sirius turned on his side, splaying a hand over his upper arm with a shuddering exhale. “He’s with Lily and James, right where he’s supposed to be. Everyone’s okay, baby.”

“Merde, Re, I’m so sorry about tonight.” His pulse was still jackrabbit-quick. He sounded miserable.

“I’m upset,” Remus answered honestly. “But it happened. Are you feeling better?”

“About the nightmare or about royally fucking up our date night?”

“Nightmare.”

He hummed and pulled back just enough to look up with honest regret written all over his face. “You always make me feel better. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Silence fell once again before Remus buried half his face in the pillow with a huff. “Christ, Sirius, I waited for an hour before Leo texted me back. I had no idea where you were, or if something had happened, and I get that you guys were having fun but worrying myself sick and then making dinner alone was kind of the worst way this could have gone.”

Sirius left a light kiss on his wristbone. “I know. My phone died and I completely lost track of time. It was really shitty of me to do that, and if there is anything I can do to make it up to you…”

Remus worked the words around in his mouth for a moment before they finally slipped out, hardly above a whisper. “Did you just…forget about me?”

“No,” Sirius said instantly, sitting up on one arm. “No, of course not. I had no idea how late it was until Leo got your text, Re, I wouldn’t—I would never—”

“Can I have a hug?” he asked. The raw spots were starting to heal over, but the pinched feeling remained. Sitting by the door with four unanswered texts and not even the foggiest idea where Sirius was had been downright humiliating. It had been terrifying, too, but that fear had turned to anger once he knew Sirius was perfectly fine. Like their date meant nothing after all.

Sirius opened his arms unquestioningly, forming the perfect hollow for Remus to cuddle into and let his emotions flow out on a long sigh. “Thank you for making sure I was okay,” Sirius said a while later, when drowsiness had replaced the ache and Remus was more than ready to just sleep for a while. They could deal with anything left over in the morning. “Even though you were angry.”

He rubbed his face against Sirius’ bicep and let his thumb trace the path of an age-silvered scar. “I’m your boyfriend. It’s part of the job description.”

“Not necessarily.” Lips lingered on the top of his head for a heartbeat. “You did it anyway. Thank you.”

“I love you,” Remus said, and he meant every word. “Yeah, I’m mad, but I love you.”

Sirius sniffed and held him tighter. “Je t’aime aussi.”

Chapter 66: Mama, the Angel

Summary:

Hope and Sirius after Coops are outed

Chapter Text

A shadow appeared in Sirius’ periphery; he didn’t look up from the coffee table he had been cleaning intently for the past ten minutes as three people talked over each other in the kitchen. “I think you got the spot,” a gentle voice said.

He paused, fighting the tears that were creeping up his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Hope let out a slow breath, and he felt her hand tentatively brush his arm a moment later. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not a little upset,” she said. “But I understand why you did what you did. Sirius, are you alright?”

So many people had asked him that over the past few weeks—so many more spewed vitriol in the most public of spaces. It felt like his whole world was burning to the ground but there Hope stood, offering an earnest inquiry on how he as a person was dealing with the worst event of his life. “I don’t know,” he answered without looking up.

“In the airport—”

“I didn’t mean to leave,” he interrupted, swiping a hand under his nose despite the lack of tears. “Him. I didn’t mean to leave Remus there, I just saw the pictures ruin 12 years of hiding and got scared and by the time I realized what I did, he was gone.”

“Thank you.”

He sniffled. “I do care, you know. I love your son. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

The hall was quiet; in the next room, Sirius could still hear Remus and his father talking as Jules piped in with a million questions. “Can I give you a hug?” Hope asked.

Of all the things Sirius was expecting, that was near the bottom of the list. He had assumed she would shout at him, tear into him for hurting her son when he was at his most vulnerable. That she would hate him until the end of time and forbid Remus from ever going near him again. He had convinced himself it was a justified response, and yet he had been met with nothing worse than a few disappointed looks from the Lupins. “Ouais,” he said, unclenching his hand from the dishrag. “Yeah, of course you can.”

Hope Lupin wasn’t the tallest of women, so he had to bend a bit to get down to her level—she cocooned him in a bubble of warmth almost instantly. One of her slender hands came to rest at the back of his neck, just like Remus did when he wanted to offer as much comfort as possible. “I am so sorry this happened to you, sweetheart,” she murmured as he closed his eyes. His chest heaved, and the hand splayed over his shoulder blade moved in a slow circle. “It was cruel, and wrong, and neither of you deserved to go through that.”

“I thought you’d be angry,” he confessed, barely above a whisper.

She sighed, giving him a light squeeze. “I was. But I know my Remus, and I know he wouldn’t choose someone flighty. You were both scared out of your minds and you didn’t have any time. It makes sense.”

Sirius could feel a light tremor under his skin and hoped she couldn’t feel it, too. “I will never run again. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He stepped back after a second, but Hope kept her hands on his arms and pulled him down gently to leave a kiss on his forehead. Her eyes were damp when she looked at him. “I wish this could have gone differently. I would’ve made a pie.”

That drew a watery laugh from them both, soothing the raw ache that had been pulsing in his gut ever since he heard the news that the Lupins were coming to town. The corners of Hope’s eyes crinkled. “I really do love him,” Sirius said, twisting the rag around in his hands. “Everything about him.”

“Oh, honey, I know that.”

“You do?”

“You wouldn’t have come back if you didn’t.” She poked him on the bicep with a teasing look, then beamed at him and did it again. “You were kissing my son!”

“I was,” Sirius laughed.

“On the lips!”

“Quite enthusiastically,” a new voice said from behind him. A smile was playing at Remus’ mouth when he turned around; he looked tired, but shone with happiness. Sirius couldn’t even try and stop the butterflies erupting in his stomach.

Hope huffed and beckoned him over for a rib-crushing hug. “Did you call your aunts?”

Remus winced. “Not yet.”

“Best get on that before they batter down the front door.” She patted his cheek, then left her hand there as her expression turned soft. “Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

It wasn’t the first time she had said it that day and Sirius doubted it would be the last—nevertheless, he would never tire of hearing it. Remus deserved to have more than just a few people who were proud of him. He deserved the world. And if Sirius could give it to him by just promising to never leave again (an easy task, to be honest), then he would do it in a heartbeat.

Chapter 67: Ghosts

Summary:

Sirius has a panic attack + Hattie the emotional support dog

Chapter Text

It started almost as soon as Sirius put his keys on the countertop. He stopped in his tracks as a chill crawled up his spine and a nauseating stone fell heavy in his gut. They were bored.

The logical shreds of his thought process reminded him that no, James and Kasey were actually involved in the conversation, but—no. His palms were too hot on the cool marble counter. You always talk too much. Nobody can understand you.

The second you left, they actually started having a good time.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth as his vision began to tunnel, bracing himself on the kitchen island so he didn’t wobble and fall. He had taken his meds. He hadn’t dredged up anything particularly new or painful with Heather that week. He had done everything just right, and yet he could still feel the thick pressure in his throat building building building—

Sirius eased himself to the floor without opening his eyes; the lights were too bright for his pounding head and he knew that if he moved too fast, the nausea would only get worse. His chest was constricted to the point where he could hear his own lungs catching. Every inch of skin revolted against the fabric of his clothes.

“James invited me,” he said aloud, resting his forehead on the cabinet door. “He wanted me there.”

But Kasey didn’t.

Sirius took a shuddering breath in through his nose. “They both wanted me there,” he corrected, voice breaking. “And Kasey asked the question in the first place and I didn’t talk for that long—”

Any time is too long. You never make sense to anyone but yourself.

“—and they kept talking to me even after I was done.” Wet warmth trickled down his cheeks and he gripped the cabinet handle even tighter. Any anchor would do before his whole body floated away. The sheer size of the house he was in hit him like a truck; it was empty and lonely and cold. He hadn’t separated himself from the environment he was raised in one little bit.

It didn’t matter what James or Kasey thought, he realized as the ringing in his ears drowned everything else out and he leaned heavily on the wall for extra support. His mother’s words were cemented in his brain and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He deserved it, didn’t he? The second he accepted the spot as captain, every single one of his friends stopped caring about him. He became the cranky tyrant his parents had always wanted him to be. There was no hope to get back into their loyalty or their good graces. You brought this on yourself, he bit out in his head. It’s all your fault.

“No,” Sirius murmured, thudding his forehead against the cabinet. “No, no, no, no, no, I’m sorry.”

It felt like the world was crumbling around him. He had the sudden, terrible understanding that he was going to die right there on the kitchen floor with his lungs folding in on themselves and his stomach hurting and his head pounding and—

Something cold and wet prodded his arm. Sirius’ muscles were made of stone; he couldn’t even flinch at the strange new feeling as tremors rocked through his body. There was a soft whine and another poke, then the creature began snuffling his ear with far more intensity than he was prepared for. Confusion started to leak in around the edges of the banshee-cries in his head.

After one extended sniff by the hinge of his jaw, the fuzzy thing smacked him on the thigh with a more insistent noise of distress, and Sirius managed to release his shoulder joint enough to make room for it to worm its merry way right into his lap.

He stared at it. Large silver eyes stared back. “Hullo,” he managed thickly. It huffed, licked a truly incredible stripe of slobber from his chin to his eye, then rested its nose on his shoulder with a long sigh.

And to Sirius’ astonishment, the shakiness in his abdomen eased. His mother’s voice quieted by a degree; the feeling returned to his toes in pins and needles once he began to match his breaths to the steady rise and fall against his chest.

His fingers creaked as he peeled them off the cabinet handle, but he managed to find his way to the soft black fur making itself at home in the hollow between his body and the wood. Gentle, he reminded himself on instinct. Gentle scratches just by her belly, then up to her shoulder blades.

Sure enough, Hattie gave a happy little wiggle in response. Her pointed ear tickled the side of his face as he leaned into her. Sirius’ heart rate calmed.

“Mon chou,” he mumbled once his voice decided to work again, wrapping his other arm around her in a loose hug. She pulled back to nose around his face and lick at the tearstains streaking his face until an inexplicable laugh bubbled out of him—her tail thumped on the ground and she pawed at his chest. Sirius’ bit his lip and buried his face in the thick ruff at her neck, holding her closer than she usually enjoyed but enough to feel the weight of her across his whole front while the dregs of his anxiety ran their course.

Hattie stayed perfectly still until the sobbing subsided and the shaky hand combing through the fur of her back flattened. Her light rumbles took the place of every screeching thought in Sirius’ mind.

“Good girl,” he finally said, wiping the tears away on his shoulder so he could give her some ear scratchies at the same time. “Good girl, Hat Trick. Mon petit chou. Je t’aime. Merde, you’re such a good dog.”

Her tail continued to wag, but she just watched him with that same easy gaze.

“You can get up, if you want.”

Hattie yawned so wide she squeaked.

“I’m okay now.”

A car backfired outside and one ear pricked toward it. She didn’t so much as twitch from her spot in his lap.

Sirius closed his eyes again with a slow breath and wove his fingers through her dense undercoat, focusing on each silky strand. He still felt a bit sick and the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that told him James and Kasey didn’t really want him at lunch kept on pinching him, but it didn’t hurt as much. He was more tired than anything else. Something about Hattie’s soft fur under his fingers and her familiar weight on his shoulder eased the shrieking panic running riot through his veins and made something that usually had him on the floor for an hour almost…bearable.

“You’re my best girl, huh?” he asked her once he trusted his voice. “You know what best girls get? Treats.”

That got her attention. She let him up with little fuss, her nails tip-tapping in excitement on the floor as he steadied himself and padded over to the pantry. His muscles were weak and he was sweaty all over—she didn’t seem to care a bit as he took the treat bag out, grabbed a handful, and sat right back down to feed them to her one by one.

“Can you sit for me?” Hattie’s body was tense with barely-contained anticipation as she laser-focused on the last cookie and slowly settled her rear on the floor. “Good girl!”

Sirius didn’t even open his hand all the way before she launched herself back into his lap to claim her prize, coating his palm in a layer of slobber before planting herself in the cross of his legs as if she owned the place.

“That was a little much,” he informed her. “But you get a pass because you’re a very sweet puppy.”

Hattie pawed at him for a moment before squirming around to splay across his thighs in a dead-weight blanket, nestling her head in the crook of his knee with a grumble. Sirius paused as tears pricked his eyes again; the house was big, yes, but not empty anymore. Pictures lined the walls. The junk drawer was practically overflowing with trinkets that belonged to everyone he loved. And he had a dog, his dog, that would lay in his lap and never let him spiral into himself again.

Sirius leaned his head back against the kitchen island and closed his eyes, still running his hand in long lines across Hattie’s side as she dozed. A nap didn’t sound like such a bad idea, after all.

Chapter 68: Oh, You're My Best Friend

Summary:

Leo and Reg bonding

**TW dry-heaving, past abuse

Chapter Text

“Reg?”

No answer. Leo hesitated, letting his knuckles linger on the outside of the door for another few seconds before lowering them. The sounds of dry-heaving had stopped a few minutes prior, but he could hear Regulus’ harsh breathing even through the wood. He glanced back down the hall; Remus’ socked foot disappeared around the corner, and Sirius leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Watching. Waiting. Sadder than Leo had ever seen him.

He sighed through his nose and knocked as lightly as he could. “Reg, it’s me. Please open the door.”

Regulus spit. Leo heard a rustle of clothes and unsteady footsteps before the bathroom door swung open at last and immediately wrapped his arms around Regulus’ narrow frame, squeezing his eyes shut at the shaking and shivering he could already feel under his touch. “Fuck,” Regulus said fervently as he clutched at the back of Leo’s shirt.

“C’mon.”

“Fuck.” It came out more choked that time—Leo kept holding him until the door shut behind them and guided Regulus to lean against the tub, though he kept their sides pressed together and let him collapse into his ribs. “Fuck, Leo, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“C’mon,” Leo repeated, remaining as solid as he could while Regulus pulled his knees up and trembled from head to toe.

“I’m so fucking scared,” came the whispered response several long moments later. Regulus buried his face in his knees and shook his head. “They’re gonna kill me for this.”

Leo was pretty sure his heart ripped in half at the broken terror in Regulus’ voice. His best friend was wry and sarcastic, a force to be reckoned with on or off the ice—this frightened boy looked like nothing more than…

A child. He paused. For the very first time in their friendship, Leo remembered just how young they both were. “They’re not gonna kill you,” he heard himself say. We’re children. We’re just kids. We shouldn’t have to do this. Leo cleared his throat, then rested the side of his head on top of Regulus’. “Reg, I need you to listen real close.”

“Okay,” he answered thickly.

“They don’t—” Leo faltered as tears burned his eyes. He upset and hurt and fucking furious that his best friend had to deal with the shitshow he was slogging through, so upset it burned inside. He held Regulus close and pressed their temples together. “They don’t get to hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.”

He didn’t need to see Regulus’ face in the depths of their sweatshirts to know he was crying. It was a funny thought, Regulus crying. He had always been untouchable, even though Leo knew the wall against his emotions had been 20 years in the making and was stronger than the Hoover Dam. It was fucking crushing to see him like that, huddled on the bathroom floor with his hoodie as a tissue.

“I won’t go in if you don’t want me to,” he promised. “I won’t listen. I’ll wait in the car and drive you home afterward, no questions asked.”

“Sirius is gonna be pissed,” Regulus mumbled.

Leo frowned. “He won’t be mad at you—”

“No.” A series of hitching breaths followed before he sat up a little more, though he kept himself tucked under Leo’s arm. “No, Sirius is going to be so pissed at the Snakes.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think he’s always pissed at the Snakes,” Leo tried to joke. It fell flat and he internally winced. “But you’re right. He will be. If you don’t want to drive home with all that, I’ll be there.”

“It’s just—” Regulus raised his head and shuffled into a sitting position. His hands hung uselessly in front of him. His eyes were red-rimmed, face pale. He looked lost. He looked 20. “I don’t know how to say it. Any of it. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

His face twisted and he scrubbed angrily at his damp cheek. “Emotions.”

Leo tilted his head in thought, drawing his arm back until Regulus pulled it over his shoulders again. “Would thinking of it like a list help?”

Regulus slumped. “I tried. I tried thinking of it like it didn’t happen to me, but it did, and the media’s going to eat me alive for it.”

“Fuck the media,” Leo said firmly. Gray eyes flickered up to him. “Fuck the media, Reg, this is your life and nobody else’s. You’re doing this for you to make sure it doesn’t happen to any other players.”

Silence fell over them. Sirius and Remus were rummaging about in the house, their footsteps padding on the floor as if they were trying extra hard to be quiet. A deep hum of appreciation rumbled through Leo’s bones. “Can I tell you?”

He blinked. “Tell me what?”

“What I’m going to say.” Regulus swallowed hard, picking at his hoodie cuffs. His skin was blotchy and red in places—Leo wondered how many other people had been able to see The Regulus Black with anything less than perfect composure.

Then again, he wasn’t The Regulus Black to Leo. He was just Reg, his best friend. Just Reg, and there was nobody else Leo wanted him to be.

His gaze was sharp when they made eye contact. “Leo, can I practice with you?”

“Course you can.”

“It’s fucked up.” He saw his throat bob. “Leo, some of this is really fucked up.”

Next time we see the Snakes, I’m drawing first blood. He shifted to sit in front of Regulus and held his hands out, palms-up. “Shoot.”

The creasing worry on his face gave way to bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

“Hold my hands.”

“…why?”

“Because.” Regulus stared for a moment longer, then tentatively reached out and rested his palms over Leo’s. They were cold, per usual, but steadied somewhat when they made contact. “Ready?”

A nod answered, and then an almost challenging look bored into Leo’s face. “I was a member of the Slytherin Snakes organization for just under a year, and I was abused by my teammates. They disguised their abuse as hazing rituals meant to break my self-esteem, both physically and emotionally. I dreaded stepping foot in that locker room every day. I received more bruises from my coworkers than I did on the ice. I was pressured to cut contact with my older brother and threatened with more harm if I refused. You okay?”

Leo exhaled. Regulus’ voice was a clipped, perfect monotone, but that didn’t stop the words from driving right down into his soul. “Yep. Is it working?”

“I have no idea.” A faint tremor ran through Regulus’ hands, and Leo felt him tighten his grip. Hs words were clearly pre-rehearsed; the waver in his voice was not. “The older members of the team routinely targeted me and the other rookies and I—I tried to stay out of the way, but as soon as they turned their abuse to others I couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.”

He swallowed again; Leo watched his shoulders begin to shake. “Reg?” he asked gently.

“Some of the injuries on my hands and heels will scar for the rest of my life. I took the fall for my few friends whenever I thought I could get away with it, but—but—but there were so many where I c—”

Leo bit down on the inside of his lip as Regulus broke off, breathing hard as tears welled up once again. One hand ripped away from his own and slammed down on the tile floor.

“I couldn’t protect them,” Regulus finally forced out, hoarse and quiet. His mouth twisted in familiar frustration and he hit the floor again as a riot of emotions played out across every pointed angle of his face. The clinical tone vanished in an instant and the wide-eyed guilt flooded his features. “Shit, Leo, I couldn’t stand up for anyone.”

“You stood up for yourself—”

“No, I didn’t,” he sobbed, though no tears fell. “I didn’t, I just let them hurt me because it’s what I’ve done my whole fucking life and this time Sirius wasn’t there to take the hits.”

Leo’s heart skipped a beat. He thought back to Sirius in the hall, then the one and only time he had had the misfortune of seeing their parents in person. He thought about the ever-present wariness on Sirius’ face in early pictures of the team. He thought about Regulus’ suspicious looks to Dumo in those quiet, early days.

His silver eyes were bitter and angry and so ashamed Leo could taste it like blood on his teeth. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

“I…” Leo trailed off, then shook his head. “I knew they were strict. I thought maybe, but…”

“Sirius never told you where that scar on his lip came from, eh?” Something cruel curled on the corner of Regulus’ mouth and he looked away, swiping a hand under his nose. “I broke maman’s necklace and he said he did and dear old dad made him get four stitches. We had to lie to everyone and say he fell. And it was all my fault.”

Leo knew that defensive glare, the one like a cornered bobcat. It was the look Regulus got when he was boiling for a fight and trying to press every button so someone would snap at him first. Sirius’ anger was white-hot and quick. Regulus simply simmered until he couldn’t keep it down. “It’s not your fault,” Leo said, barely above a murmur.

Regulus’ eyes flashed and he yanked his other hand back. “I sat there for twelve years as Sirius got hurt for me because I was too much of a coward to stand up for myself against my own shitty parents. I sat there for another year as those fucking sadists took out their problems on me and the only people who treated me like a human being because I was scared. And then you come barreling into my life and try to tell me it’s not my fault?

Leo shrugged one shoulder. “I’m your best friend. I can’t lie to you.”

“Well you just did, so how about you shut the fuck up and let me get through this so I don’t cry like a little bitch in front of a million cameras who have been waiting for me to fail since I could skate.”

A gentle knock made them both jump. “Reg?”

“Fuck off, Sirius!” Regulus shouted.

Leo folded his hands in his lap. “Look, if you want to yell at me—”

“I don’t want to yell—”

“How about you shut the fuck up for a second, ouais?” Regulus closed his mouth, apparently stunned into silence as Leo raised his eyebrows. “Your parents suck, and fuck the Snakes. They had no right to hurt you and no cause to do it because you didn’t do anything wrong. And as your goddamn best friend, I get to remind you that I’m on your side in this. I’m going to be there, for you, no matter what happens in that room. I get to care about you.”

Regulus’ bottom lip quavered even as defensive fury raged hot over his face. “I don’t know why you want to be around me, Leo. You’re…nice. People like you. I’m mean, and angry, and a wreck of a person who can’t pull himself together for an hour to stop other people from getting hurt.”

The wounded shreds of Leo’s heart pulsed with a bone-deep ache. “You’re not any of that.”

“How do you know?” Regulus bit out.

“Cause I know you.” Leo nudged his knee with one foot. “I like to think I know better than to have a mean, angry best friend. Gimme a little credit here. You’ve been through things nobody should have put you through, and now you’re going to go in there and kick some ass because it’s what you do best. Then we’re going for a drive, and then you can crush me at Smash Bros.”

Regulus sniffled, picking at the bathmat. “You do suck at Smash Bros,” he mumbled.

“It’s not your job to throw yourself in front of every bad thing that comes at other people, Reg.”

“Sirius did it.”

“Sirius has a hero complex and higher blood pressure than an eighty-year-old man.”

That startled a snort from him. “Yeah,” he half-laughed, glancing back up. “Yeah, he really does.”

“Alright, up we go.” Leo stood with a groan and held out a hand to hoist Regulus to his feet, then dragged him into a hug the second he was steady. Regulus didn’t hesitate before returning the embrace just as fiercely. “Are you gonna throw up again?”

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

Leo held him tight, burying his nose in the folds of Regulus’ hoodie. “Ready to head out?”

A few beats of silence passed before he felt a sigh by his ear. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You only need to tell them what they need to know. And that’s up to you to decide.”

Regulus pulled away and clapped Leo hard on the shoulder, then splashed some cold water on his face with a grimace. “D’accord,” he said, bracing his hands on the sink. “D’accord, let’s kick ass.”


“Oh, you little fucker,” Leo snarled, leaning as far into Regulus as he could get.

“Ow!” A hand shoved him away by the forehead; when he finally regained his vision, his character was knocked out cold on the animated stage. “Ha!

Leo swore under his breath and tossed the controlled onto the cushions, dragging their shared blanket tighter around himself with a grumpy noise. “I hate this game.”

“Cause you’re a loser,” Regulus singsonged with a grin as Leo hauled him down to ruffle his hair. Dark circles were stamped beneath his eyes and he had been even quieter than normal on the drive home, but slowly, life had come back to his guarded expression. It was a comforting sight.

The top of their pillow fort shifted. “What’s the password?” Leo called as he watched Regulus gleefully set up a new game.

“Is it ‘my little brother is a mole-person that eats more popcorn than the rest of the city combined’?” a dry voice asked.

“It’s actually ‘fuck the Snakes’, but ritual offerings of apology are always accepted,” Regulus answered, sticking his hand out of the fort.

“Oh, well in that case, fuck the Snakes.”

“And the offering?”

Sirius’ heavy sigh rolled over the entire Eastern seaboard. A moment later, Regulus pulled a fresh bowl of popcorn under the blanket with a devious gleam in his eye. “Have fun, children.”

“We will!” they chorused.

The TV beeped as they chose their characters, but Leo lowered his controller just before pressing ‘play’. He bit his lip, then bumped Regulus’ shoulder with his own. “Hey.”

“Bonjour.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Regulus blinked twice, cheeks still full of popcorn, before a faint smile tugged at the one side of his mouth Leo could see. “Merci, mon ami.”

“Will you let me win this next round?”

“Mmm. No.”

Chapter 69: The Other Line

Summary:

Leo and Reg being stupid young adults

**TW alcohol/ drunkenness, past pressure into drinking, minor vomiting

Chapter Text

“This is so stupid,” Leo said gleefully as they stepped into the bar. The bouncer didn’t card them—the place certainly wasn’t nice enough for the owners to really give a shit, and it was close enough to the college that carding would lose them about half their patrons.

A slow smile built in Regulus’ chest before spreading over his face. “It’s so stupid,” he agreed, practically buzzing out of his skin already. He usually hated crowded places and loud noises, but the bar was pulsing with activity and the kind of freedom that came with getting absolutely blasted, the kind he had watched his teammates partake in and then wake up the next morning groggy and sticky.

Regulus didn’t want to get so drunk he started bashing on other guys’ girlfriends or picking on rookies. But once, just once in his goddamn sheltered life he wanted to get tipsy with his best friend before he left his adolescence. Just once.

“I didn’t even think you were gonna be able to sneak out,” Leo called over the noise of the crowd around his crooked grin, making a path toward the bar with his big-ass shoulders. “Cap’s got ears like a German Shepherd.”

Regulus shook his head and winced as they passed a bit too close to one of the speakers. “Nah, he and Loops were out cold.”

Leo squinted and leaned down. “What?”

“They were dead to the fuckin’ world!”

“They were fuckin’?”

“No!” Regulus laughed. “Asleep! I could hear him snoring all the way downstairs! Ew, don’t put those thoughts in my head!”

“I’m just saying—”

Leo grinned as Regulus gave him a hard shove toward the bar, narrowly dodging a tipsy young woman in a sparkly tube top as she slipped past him with a tray of drinks for her table. The excitement of the bar was getting less tolerable by the minute, if he was being honest with himself; it had been overwhelming in the best way at first, a blast of freedom straight to the face, but it was starting to grate on his senses.

He finally managed to break through the crowd and stumble to Leo’s side, where he was immediately handed a bottle of beer. “I don’t really drink, but this one’s good!” Leo explained with an earnest smile. “C’mon, let’s get a seat away from the speakers!”

I don’t either, Regulus almost said. Not much more than a beer or two at team gatherings so he didn’t get called a pussy. Definitely not more than his first night out, when some of the older guys cornered him for shots and then he slept for twelve hours straight before throwing his guts up and going right back to bed.

But it was Leo, and Regulus was dying to just get out after nineteen fucking years and see things before rolling up to college with zero experience. All the stories he’d heard had told him college was where everyone drank. If so many people talked about it, it couldn’t be wrong, right?

The first beer was good.

The second was better.

Some nice lady with bigger eyelashes than he’d ever seen bought him something pretty and blue with an ‘aren’t you just the sweetest thing, pumpkin, I hope you two have a good time!’ and a tap to his nose before vanishing back into the crowd. Regulus didn’t know how to feel about the pet name, though it felt nice to be paid attention to.

Things started getting fuzzy halfway through his…fourth? Fourth drink. He slowly registered Leo putting another glass of water in front of him and the unhappy grumbles of his stomach. His ears were ringing. He knew how ‘tipsy’ was supposed to feel, and that was not it.

“Reg, listen to me.” Fingers snapped in front of his face and he jumped, meeting Leo’s eyes. “We’re going home, okay?”

Regulus frowned. “But I’m having fun.”

“Yeah, no, we’re done.” More concern fell over his freckled face. “You drank that blue thing hella fast while I was gone.”

Gone. That’s right, Leo had popped off to the bathroom after his second beer and a second glass of water. “It tasted good,” Regulus mumbled, rolling the cool glass between his fingertips. The music was making his ears hurt really bad. “Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“…I want to go home.”

They waded back toward the door together, keeping their hands clasped tight without a care for whatever some stranger would think. Getting through the mass of people was hard enough when he was sober—drunk, it was almost impossible.

The night air hit him like the most beautiful brick to the face. Regulus took a deep breath, felt a sudden wash of cold sweat, then banged his shoulder on the wall and felt his stomach flip. “Jesus, Reg,” he heard Leo mutter as a broad hand steadied his back with each heave. “Have you—oh my god, have you ever had alcohol before?”

Regulus nodded. “Beer. Team drink-ups.” He paused to catch his breath. “Shots, once, and it fucking sucked.”

“I’m so sorry.” Leo sounded close to tears suddenly, and Regulus blindly reached back to pat him on the arm before doubling over again. “Shit, this was supposed to be fun, I’m so—I’m so sorry.”

“Not your f—” Regulus regretted not drinking more water before. Or eating something; someone had said that was supposed to help. Or even looking at alcohol. “Fault. Don’t need your help. I can take care of—merde—myself.”

The hand on his back eased some of its pressure and he heard voices behind him before Leo returned, shakier than before. “So the bouncer guy said the cabs that run in this area at night are kinda hard to get ahold of—”

“Leo.”

Leo fell silent. “Yeah?”

Leo, we need to call—”

“Absolutely not. I love you Reg, but I don’t want to get skinned alive.”

“I’ll take the fall for it,” Regulus mumbled, squeezing his hand even as his heart raced. “It’s fine. I’m the one that found this place, I’m the one that snuck out, I’m the one who’s drunk off his ass because some stupid blue thing tasted good. D’accord?”

“Reg, I don’t think you understand how hard he’ll kill me. My fucking ghost will be feeling it.”

Regulus shook his head and leaned back against the grimy wall, grimacing at the neon lights across the street. He already felt like death. There was nothing happy or buzzy about it. “It’s okay, we promised not to get mad if we called each other for some—hic—something like this. Safer than walking or waiting for a ride from a stranger.”

He was fiercely grateful that they had caught a cab there in the first place—there would be no sneaking temptation to risk driving to avoid getting in trouble. A point just behind his forehead throbbed as he heard Leo groan, then shuffle his phone out of his pocket.

A few beats of quiet passed. “Hey, Cap,” Leo began in a voice dripping with guilt. “Are you busy right now?”


The car was deathly quiet. Regulus tucked his hands under his thighs and tried not to hurl. Leo sat in the backseat like the world’s largest kicked puppy. Sirius remained silent and impassive in the driver’s seat.

“You feeling okay, Knutty?” he asked as they turned another corner and Regulus clenched his teeth.

“Peachy keen,” Leo said miserably.

“Reg?”

“Please keep driving,” he mumbled.

“I’m not mad—”

“You’re disappointed,” Regulus finished for him with a bitter tang to his mouth.

Sirius glanced over at him. “No, actually. I’m not mad, period. I’m really glad you called. Was this a bit stupid? Yeah. Did I do literally the same thing at your age? Yeah.”

“Shut up, you’re 25,” Regulus snapped back. He didn’t know why he was so angry all of a sudden, or why his stomach was trembling uncontrollably. He was sick and tired and the bar had been a horror show on his senses. He was—

Embarrassed. Mortified, even. Worse than the time he walked out of his bedroom and ran face-first into Sirius as he got out of the shower after a morning skate. Everything was cloudy and itchy, and he wasn’t even drunk enough to be able to ignore it like he did The Shot Night.

Sirius pulled up to the curb of Leo’s apartment building and unlocked the doors, looking back through the rearview mirror. “Walk safe. Have water before going to bed.”

“Thanks,” Leo mumbled as he oozed out of the car and slunk up the sidewalk, typing in the building code before he vanished into the main building. Sirius waited at the curb until the last sign of him disappeared.

And then there were two, Regulus thought, leaning his temple on the cool window. The car rumbled in a familiar comfort beneath him as they pulled back out onto Main Street. “I fucked up.”

“Yep.”

He ground the words between his back teeth before letting them out on a slow exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“For getting drunk?” Sirius said quizzically.

“For sneaking out. And getting drunk. And waking you up to come get me like a fucking kindergartener.”

Sirius drummed his fingers on the wheel. “First of all, if that’s your definition of ‘sneaking out’ then we need to have a talk about putting your keys somewhere they don’t echo off the stairs and not using the front door. Second, I was already awake.”

Regulus blinked at him. “Why didn’t you stop me from leaving?”

“Do I look like your babysitter?” Sirius snorted. “I heard Leo, figured you two were hanging out.”

“Why were you awake at—” Regulus squinted at the fuzzy numbers of the dashboard display. “—1:30 am?”

Sirius stopped at the light and turned to him in something like disbelief. “Reg. It’s a Friday night and I heard my baby brother leave the house that I live in with my boyfriend to go hang out with his best friend for an indefinite period of time. Use your head.”

Regulus blinked at him. “Can you repeat that a little slower?”

I was getting some.”

“Oh, shit, okay, well.” Regulus curled his knees up tighter to his chest as his stomach started lurching again. “Good for you. Apology rescinded.”

“I’m really not mad.”

He huffed. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a nudge to his elbow and he peeked over one hunched shoulder. This light is the longest thing on Earth. “I’m not mad,” Sirius repeated. “I was worried, but I’m not angry with you.”

Regulus’ first instinct was to snark back, just to be a cranky little shit like usual.

He blinked again and winced as the motion made his head throb. He was tired. He felt so beyond guilty and embarrassed. He was sick and upset and still a little scared from ending up in an area he didn’t know, drunk off his ass with his best friend when neither of them were in a place to make good decisions. For the first time since he left his parents’ house, he felt entirely out of control. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled again as the burn of tears pricked the backs of his eyes.

The light changed, but Sirius reached out to pat his knee while he drove. “It’s okay, Reg, deep breaths—”

“I didn’t mean to cause everyone all these problems—”

“You didn’t cause—”

“I just wanted to have fun—”

“Hey, shhh—”

“If you want to just drop me off at Knutty’s, I’ll come back over to yours tomorrow or Sunday or whenever and we don’t even have to talk about it—”

Stop.” It took Regulus a moment to realize the car had come to a halt. He blearily looked out the window; they were parked on the curb, near some residential area Regulus didn’t recognize. Next to him, Sirius looked more than a little distressed.

Regulus swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

“You’re not going anywhere unless you want to,” Sirius said in a firm voice, bypassing his question entirely. “I’m not ever going to make you leave my house. Ever. That’s your home, too. Am I worried that you didn’t keep track of your drinks, or have water, or eat before you went? Obviously. That was dumb. Don’t do it again. But I’m not mad at you and this doesn’t make me love you any less.”

“Sirius?”

“Ouais?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

His feeling was (unfortunately) correct, though there wasn’t much left to lose. Sirius rubbed his back and kept one hand on his arm to hold him upright, talking to him quietly even though Regulus wouldn’t be able to repeat a single thing he said.

“This is a nightmare,” he all but sobbed about three minutes in. “I don’t want to go to college anymore.”

The hand on his back stuttered. “What?”

“I don’t want to do this all the time.” He was well aware he was babbling, thank you very much, but between the dry heaves and the rebellion of every cell in his body Regulus couldn’t bring himself to care. “I never want to touch alcohol again and I don’t want to go to college because if I don’t drink I’m gonna be friendless and lonely all over again so I should go back to hockey because it’s the only thing I’ll ever be good at.”

A long stretch of silence passed as he coughed one more time and accepted the waterbottle pressed into his hand. “I think we skipped a few chapters,” Sirius said haltingly as he rinsed his mouth out. “Do you feel any better?”

Regulus sniffled, then rested his feverish forehead on Sirius’ arm and let him take his weight. “I want to go home.”

He felt Sirius’ heavy breath before he was being guided back to the passenger seat on jelly legs. “Hockey is not the only thing you’re good at, and college is not just about drinking.”

“How d’you know?”

“Because I talk to people who actually went to college instead of people whose parents went on fucked-up rants about the evils of higher education compared to sports scholarships.”

“Fair.”

Sirius glanced at him in his periphery. “You’re a good person, Reg. You’ll make friends whether you drink or not. You’re an adult, so it’s your choice.”

“I really thought you were going to be angry,” he whispered.

“I am so, so happy right now.” Regulus turned to him with a mix of indignance and confusion, earning himself a laugh. “Non, I just mean I’m glad you called me. This could have gone a lot worse if you two tried to sneak around some more and got yourselves into trouble. I hope you don’t have to do it again, but I’m happy you did.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes, then relaxed with a sigh. “I have no idea why you’re so chill about this. I got drunk because of stupid mistakes and pulled you away from getting some on your night off.”

“The some was already got when you called, if that makes you feel better.”

“Oh, gross,” Regulus groaned, whacking him on the shoulder as Sirius snickered. “But really. Leo thought you were going to skin him.”

“Why? You fucked up all by yourself. Seems to me like he did pretty well, actually.”

“You must’ve struck the fear of god into him with the whole older brother vibe.”

“Huh. C’est bizarre.” They drove in silence for a few more blocks before Sirius looked over with half a smile. “I’m glad you have him, and I’m glad he has you.”

“Really?”

“Ouais. You’ve both been around too few people your own age. It’s not as fun being surrounded by older brothers all the time. Healthy development, and all that.”

Somebody’s been watching documentaries again.”

Somebody is trying to make sure they don’t make a terrible parent to their younger adult sibling so that the aforementioned sibling actually comes to visit for the holidays.” Sirius parked the car and made it all the way around to Regulus’ door before Regulus even got his seatbelt undone.

“Is it normal to want to sleep for eighty years?” he asked, allowing Sirius to take some of his weight as they walked up the path.

“When you’re this drunk, yes. I’ll leave the Advil out for you. You’re not going to bed until you’ve had some water, though.”

“Why?”

“Hangovers are worse when you’re dehydrated.”

“To be honest, I already feel hungover.”

Sirius let out a short, barking laugh and Regulus winced. “Desolée, I just think tomorrow morning is going to be a wonderful learning experience for you.”

Tired footsteps trudged down the stairs while Regulus sat on the kitchen counter and accepted the full water glass; Remus appeared in the doorway a moment later, wearing one of Sirius’ shirts and squinting in the kitchen light. “What are you—” He stopped when he saw Regulus and raised his eyebrows with a smile twitching at his lips. “Do you have alcohol poisoning?”

“No.”

“Good, then I can laugh,” he said, the tiredness leaving his face in an instant. “You look like hell warmed over. Jeez. Did Leo do this?”

“Did it to myself.”

Wow,” Remus said, turning to Sirius, who was poorly hiding his laughter behind a water glass of his own. “Alright, well, glad you got home safe. Did you at least have fun?”

Regulus tipped his head back and forth in an ‘eh’ motion and immediately regretted it. “Not really.”

Remus looked between them for a few more seconds in obvious amusement before kissing Sirius’ cheek and ruffling Regulus’ hair. “I think I’m gonna go back to bed now. Have fun, you two. Reg, remember to shower.”

“For sobriety?”

“No, because you don’t want your sheets to smell like sweat when you wake up feeling terrible.”

Sirius hummed. “I forgot about that one. Especially cause you have a high metabolism.”

I’m still too drunk for this. “Why does that matter?”

“Reg, I love you, but you smell like a walking mini bar right now. High metabolism means faster processing means you reek.”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, easing himself back down to the floor to finish off his water. The pleasant darkness of the rest of the house compared to the kitchen was a balm on his eyes as he wandered toward the staircase. “Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit.”

Regulus paused at the top of the stairs. “Thanks again for coming to get me. That was…cool.”

Sirius’ smile was soft as he tilted his head. “Any time. Sweet dreams, Reg.”

Chapter 70: Rewind

Summary:

Remus running drills after a bad game

Chapter Text

Remus bit down on the fingertip of his glove as he balanced his phone against the boards; Sirius didn’t have any glass surrounding his rink, making the task rather difficult. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell of sweat—not his, just whoever’s armpit his hand had collided with over the past week—and leaned back. The phone stayed upright. “Alright,” he murmured under his breath as he tapped the ‘play’ button.

“—takes it up the left, and it looks like Black is going for a coast to coast—oh, a quick pass to Lupin! Lupin misses the pass by an inch—the whistle blows—”

Remus stopped the video and skated backwards a few feet. He didn’t need a reminder of the bullshit call that stuck him in the box for absolutely no reason. Arthur had been spitting with rage; the refs may as well have been pulling penalties out of a hat for the whole team.

His jaw still ached from getting his bell rung five hours prior and he worked it for a moment before snagging a stray puck, clicking it back and forth in a calming blur. One-two-three, two-two-three, three-two-three, four-two-three, fuck-ing-refs, I-hate-this, why-the-Canes, pen-al-ty.

The familiar sound of the puck sliding home eased the bubbling frustration in his gut. Nothing but net, he thought as he pushed off and made a wide loop, tapping a few more in before lining up at the opposite end with a slow exhale. There were no goal horns; no fluorescent lights. A cool blue cast covered everything, stretching his shadow long and thin over the artificial ice that held nobody but him.

Remus took another breath and let the chilly air bite at his lungs before snatching another puck out of the corner and taking off. Sirius had started his pass three-quarters of the way up; Remus snapped it toward the opposite wall and caught the rebound in the middle of his stick, feeling the impact reverberate all the way to his hands. Perfect. Now do it again.

He had only gotten good in college by practicing on his roller blades in the parking lot after the rink shut down for the night—he thanked his lucky stars for Sirius’ inability to live in a space that didn’t drip hockey, because he’d have to be a lot better than good to make it in the NHL.

Biased refs be damned, those missed passes rested heavy on Remus’ shoulders.

He ran it back again, and again, and again, snapping the puck back and forth between the wall and his stick until his calluses began to ache and his quads groaned in protest. His body was tired after already playing a full game that night, but Remus was willing to beat it into submission for a bit longer. Whatever it took to eke out that little advantage for next time.

Next time we won’t lose, he thought as the puck bounced off the far wall and came hurtling toward him. Next time it won’t be my fault.

Anxiety clawed at his burning lungs as he looped around the goal and dug his skates in, sprinting up the ice. Maybe his speed was the problem. Maybe it wasn’t his lack of muscle tone at all, but the thing that had bought him his seat on the team in the first place. If he had been a little faster, he could have had time to get ready for the pass instead of leaving Sirius out to dry, no matter how many spots decorated his vision from that hard check. The final score had been a loss by one lousy point. Remus couldn’t help but take the blame.

He swiped sweat off his forehead and blindly sprayed water into his mouth, then slid right back to center ice and bent his knees again, ignoring the shaking of his exhausted thighs. His ankles screamed in protest. Remus gritted his teeth and played back the tape in his head to map out his path.

“Re?”

The map disappeared. “One sec,” he said absently, breathing out through his nose to pull his brain back. You took four steps to get halfway up, he reminded himself. Get there in three, pass the puck at two and a half

The puck bounced off the wall and went skittering behind him. “Shit,” he muttered as he swept back to grab it before it ran off.

“Remus.” The voice was less curious than before. He glanced up; Sirius was looking back at him from the bottom of the stairs in a mix of exasperation and concern. “What are you doing?”

“Practicing,” he said with a quick quirk of his lips that hardly qualified as a smile.

“It’s past midnight.” Remus hummed noncommittally. He had stayed up later before. Sirius’ quiet footsteps drew closer. “Come back to bed, mon loup.”

“Can’t go back if I was never there in the first place,” Remus said as he lined up again.

Sirius sighed. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Nope.”

“You’re shaking.”

“No, I’m not.” He steadfastly ignored the tremors shuddering from his hips to his ankles, as well as the spasms in his abdomen sending stabs of pain to his lungs. If I don’t acknowledge it, it isn’t true. His body was exhausted, but his brain was running on high speed. There were so many small movements to account for; maybe if he had avoided that hit from number 18…

“Viens ici.” Sirius sounded tired.

Remus glanced back at him. He looked tired, leaning on the boards with rumpled bedhead. Tired and kissable. “I’m here.”

Sirius raised both eyebrows and beckoned to him, pushing up to rest on his palms as Remus abandoned his drill with no small amount of reluctance. His hands were warm as he cupped Remus’ face and gave it a light shake. “Bad. No.”

“Woof,” Remus answered dryly.

“Come to bed with me.”

“Five more minutes?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes and some of the playfulness faded away. “You’ve been down here for over an hour. You know better than anyone that five minutes is never five minutes.”

“I just need to run the play one more time.”

“You need rest.”

“I think we might have switched bodies—”

Remus.” The earlier exasperation won out and Remus shut his mouth, pulling back until Sirius’ hands fell away. His heart was still beating fast, and the short break made the fatigue in every muscle even harder to ignore. He was dead tired, but the guilt still pulled at his heart like it was made of taffy. Sirius tugged gently on the fingertip of one thick glove. “What’s this about?”

“I’m just running some drills. Got in my head.”

“About what?”

“The game.” Tightness flickered by the edges of Sirius’ mouth. “See, you agree it was bad.”

“The refs were fucking idiots. You played well.”

Not well enough hung on the tip of his tongue. Sirius had quite nearly hit one of the referees after yet another baseless penalty on Logan; he had been boiling with anger the whole ride home while Remus picked through every error they had made in his sightline. “I wasn’t on form,” he said after a moment longer, internally wincing at the throbbing of his feet.

“Bullshit.”

“Hey!”

Sirius’ brows creased and he prodded Remus lightly on the sternum. “You. Played. Well.”

“I missed a million of your passes—”

“Two.”

“—and fucked up that shift change—”

“Pots literally fell on you.”

“—and we lost!” he finished, flustered. “We lost to the Canes!

Sirius watched him for a few more seconds. “Are you done?”

“I—yeah.” Remus pulled on the velcro tab of his glove. He wanted to crash out until the weekend, but he’d rather be waterboarded than attempt to climb the stairs to their bedroom. The dull ache in his wrists pulsed all the way up to his elbows and he huffed. “Yeah, I’m done.”

“Will you come to bed with me now?” Sirius slipped his finger under the neckline of Remus’ shirt and gave it a teasing tug, pulling him closer to the boards. “Here, boy! Come on!”

“I can’t stand you,” Remus groaned as he took Sirius’ face between his palms and kissed his cold nose. Sirius nuzzled closer and he closed his eyes for a proper kiss, though it was little more than a whisper of warm skin on warm skin. Remus draped his arms over Sirius’ shoulders and rested his head on his shoulder, stepping fully off the ice to press as close as possible; in his skates, they were almost the same height.

A broad hand smoothed up and down his back as Sirius hugged him tight. “You okay?”

“I need sleep,” Remus answered honestly. “Real sleep.”

“Get your skates off and I’ll see what I can do.”

He fell more than sat on the nearest bench and began working at the laces of his left boot; even his fingers trembled with overuse, and every joint and knuckle ached. A snack didn’t sound too bad, either. Remus knew that he’d wake up starving in the middle of the night if he didn’t grab at least a granola bar and he was absolutely unwilling to sacrifice time that could be spent dead to the world.

Loops.” Sirius’ voice was little more than a sigh as he knelt in front of Remus and started in on the right skate; Remus glanced up in surprise at the nickname. Sirius hadn’t called him that off the ice in a long while.

“What?” he asked.

“You—” He broke off with a muffled noise of frustration and waved his hand as he wiggled Remus’ foot free. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Do what?”

Sirius took his face again, though true concern shone and his thumbs traced gently under Remus’ eyes. “You work so hard and then you tell yourself it isn’t enough. There are so many things that aren’t your fault, mon amour. Stop telling yourself they are.”

Remus swallowed around the lump in his throat that used to be his voice, leaning into Sirius’ touch on instinct.

“I’ve done this,” Sirius continued. “All of this, I’ve already done it and I promise you it doesn’t work. It doesn’t matter if you skate until you can’t stand or—or until your hands are shaking, Jesus, Remus.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked after a few seconds.

Sirius exhaled through his nose as he got the boot off and went to work on the one Remus had already halfway finished. “You don’t need to apologize. You were just on my ass about the same thing all the time when I first started and I won’t sit here and watch you fall into the same pattern. I won’t.”

Remus let his hands fall helplessly to his sides from where he had bee gripping the bench. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Fix what?”

Me. “All of it.”

Eyes as gray as a winter sky and as warm as summer rain flickered over his face, then shuttered when Sirius rested their foreheads together, cradling the side of Remus’ jaw. “Come back to bed, mon loup. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Chapter 71: Take A Breather

Summary:

Coops cuddling after Lockdown (prev fic--Sirius' parents bash him before a game)

**TW past child abuse

Chapter Text

“Remus?”

Sirius’ voice was sleep-rough and his accent was thick; Remus loved how his name sounded like that, like ree-moose and then ray-moose and eventually just moose, when Sirius was on the very edge of sleep. They were at the second stage, so it was still dark out. He blindly reached over to rub a hand over Sirius’ shoulder and hummed in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes shut to preserve his sleepiness.

“Are you angry with me?”

Remus shook his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent.” He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. The clock on Sirius’ nightstand showed it wasn’t yet midnight, and he ran his hand over that warm shoulder once more. “Why would I be angry with you?”

Sirius sighed heavily through his nose. “I don’t know.”

“Mmm, then you can rest assured—”

“I wasn’t nice to you today.” Quiet fell again, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Remus shifted closer as Sirius stared at the ceiling. “I was—I shut you out this morning, after it came out. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

Remus kissed the side of his arm. “It is. You’re allowed to be upset and not want to talk to me sometimes, baby.”

Sirius’ face was troubled, but some of the tension in his body released. “You were angry at the rink.”

“Yeah.” There was no point in denying it. He had been angry since the video was first released, and even more so when two of the people he hated most in the world decided to waltz in and try to ruin Sirius’ life. Again. “Not at you, though.”

“You were angry before the rink—”

“I was angry because I don’t like hearing people shit talk you,” Remus interrupted gently. His fingertips fit just right in the ladder of Sirius’ ribs. “Especially not those people. I’m sorry if I made you feel like it was your fault.”

The furrow of Sirius’ brows deepened. “No, you didn’t do anything, it’s just my brain being…”

“Anxious?” Remus supplied after a heartbeat of pause.

“Stupid.”

“Sirius—”

“I know, I know, it’s not stupid to be anxious when I have an actual clinical anxiety disorder.” Sirius’ nose twitched; he glanced over for a brief second. “I just don’t like it.”

Remus pressed his face against Sirius’ bicep, then held the sheets up in invitation. “Would a cuddle help?”

In lieu of an answer, Sirius shuffled over until his back settled snug to Remus’ chest with his shoulders in a prime position for kisses. Remus held him close—his pulse was steady, but more rapid than usual for that time of night. “I was happy about this. Earlier, I mean.”

“You were.”

“I’m really upset, Remus.”

Remus closed his eyes and placed a kiss on one clump of dark freckles just above the ridge of his spine. “Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was thick again, but not from sleep. “I’m bad at talking.”

“You’re not,” Remus whispered into his skin.

“I couldn’t tell you I loved you until I almost lost you.”

“That was different—”

“The media hates me.”

“Oh, fuck the—”

“I never learned how to talk about my feelings and I’m going to spend the rest of my life feeling sick when someone asks how I’m doing.”

He shuddered in Remus’ arms, curling his knees up tighter. Remus let out a slow breath and moved one hand to brush his dark hair off his forehead. “Sirius, what’s going on?”

A sniffle answered him. “Do I sound like my mother?”

“God, no,” Remus breathed as his heart cracked in half. Walburga’s vicious stare rose unbidden to his memory. “Oh, baby, not even a little. You would never say that kind of thing just to hurt someone—”

“I chirp people all the time—”

“That’s different.” Sirius’ chest hitched under his palm. “Chirping someone is different than what she does. You would never go for someone’s personal pain like that just to get a leg up.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.” Remus flattened his hand over the heart beneath, moving his thumb in a soothing pattern. “Chirping is part of hockey. Verbal abuse is not. You don’t tear people down or make them feel like they don’t deserve good things, and you never have as long as I’ve known you.”

Sirius pressed his cheek against the dip of Remus’ shoulder and held it there, eyes closed even as the corners of his mouth tightened. Unshed tears clumped his dark lashes. “I have spent so much time trying to undo all the ways they fucked me up,” he murmured. In the fresh light, Remus could see the shadows smudged beneath his eyes from a lack of sleep. “And no matter how much therapy I go to, I still don’t understand how they could look at a child and want to hurt it.”

Remus sighed into the top of his head and placed a kiss in its wake. “Because they’re bad parents and you are a really good person.”

“Their parents did the same thing to them.”

“That’s not an excuse to do it to you.” He tucked his face into the soft dip of Sirius’ neck and breathed in the smell of his soap. “I am grateful for you every single day, and I hate that you had to listen to them tear you down for such a long time.”

Sirius sniffed again and a shiver ran through him as he held Remus’ wrist. “I stopped the hit.”

“You did.”

“I’ve never stopped him before. I never even tried.” A wet laugh slipped out. “I told my mother to shut the fuck up. Merde, that was stupid.”

“At the risk of sounding vengeful,” Remus said, holding his mouth against his favorite freckle constellation. “They deserved a lot worse than what you gave them.”

“I know.”

He listened to their tandem breaths as the clock struck midnight; Sirius let his head weigh heavy on the pillow again. “Will you be okay? People are going to ask questions.”

“People have been asking questions for a long time, mon loup.”

“You know what I mean.” He rubbed his hand in a wide oval over Sirius’ torso and felt him relax, though a tear glimmered as it dripped off his cheekbone. Remus nuzzled the back of his bare shoulder and kept his voice barely above a whisper. “I am so proud of you.”

Sirius’ abdomen jerked around a sob. “I couldn’t let them take him away again.”

“Baby—”

“I’m tired of being hurt by them when they’re not even here, Remus.” He rolled onto his back, scrubbing both hands down his face. “It felt so good and now I feel like—fuck, what’s the soup fork?”

“Spoon?”

“I feel like someone took my stomach out with a spoon.” A humorless laugh was muffled by Sirius’ palms before he reached out to trail his finger down the side of Remus’ face. “You’re too handsome to be that sad.”

Remus leaned into the touch with half a smile; the ache in his heart had branched out through his lungs, tugging and twisting as it went. “It will never make sense to me how such awful people had such an incredible kid. Two of them. They should be embarrassed to call themselves parents, and yet you turned out one of the best, kindest, and most loving people I have ever met.”

Sirius’ gaze unfocused for a moment before he blinked and looked between them, where their hands almost touched. “Nothing in that video was news to me. Mon regret has been around for almost ten years.”

Metallic bitterness filled Remus’ mouth. “It’s fucking barbaric.”

“She never called Reg names. She used to talk us both in circles, though. We could never win a conversation with her.” He traced the line of Remus’ nose, pausing at the dip of his upper lip. “It took me over a year to get used to talking to people without them having an interior motive.”

“Ulterior.”

“Same thing.” Remus really couldn’t deny that, especially as Sirius’ fingertips went coast to coast on his mouth and ran under his lower lip. Pooling tears made his eyes shine. “I never thought I would get her to listen to me while she was still alive. I…I don’t know what to do with that. It doesn’t feel like a victory.”

Remus kissed the inside of his palm as Sirius’ thumb rested on his cheek. “You cut the ties, you get to decide how to label it. But I think this, right here, is a victory. You should be proud of yourself. Today took a lot more courage than anyone on the team can even dream of, Sirius.”

A few tears finally spilled over and Remus bundled him up in his arms once more, letting Sirius hide his face in the well-loved t-shirt while he made quiet noises of comfort and rubbed his back. No small amount of vindication still lingered when he thought of the utter shock on Walburga and Orion’s faces, but alongside it sat overwhelming joy that Sirius put an unquestionable end to their power over him. There was pain, too, at the reminder that so much hurt happened behind the scenes before Remus was even in the picture; so much hurt he couldn’t have stopped and would never know about.

Overshadowing all of it was pride. It remained even as Sirius’ tears soaked into his shirt and he shook through the shredded remnants of the hope his parents still cared for him. If all it took to show Sirius he was appreciated and supported and so deeply loved was a night of holding him and letting the words come when he was ready, then Remus would do it for forever and a day. Whatever it took, he would do it.

Chapter 72: Weft

Summary:

Regulus' perspective of Lockdown (prev fic--Sirius' parents come to the rink)

Chapter Text

Weft: /weft/ In weaving, the crosswise threads on a loom over and under which other threads are pressed to make cloth.

Regulus had always been good at hiding. He could press himself into the smallest of spaces—much smaller than Sirius, who had hit his growth spurt at age 13 and didn’t seem to stop, could—and remain there, somewhat comfortable, for a long period of time. He could daydream himself into a nap or kill time until the air cleared of the tension in his mother’s voice. Until his father had marched off into his den, until Sirius knocked lightly on the outside of his burrow to let him know the coast was clear.

He had been scrawny throughout middle school and into the first few years of high school; it was as if his limbs had been put on just wrong, leaving him less graceful than his brother, less proportionate. Then again, Sirius’ training regimens had him looking like a brick wall by age 16. Then again, Sirius was more than six years older than him, though that never seemed to matter to anyone. Then again, he had never been able to stop comparing himself. Nobody had.

Regulus turned the corner and immediately rocked his weight back onto his heels, slipping back into the shadows in one steady slide even as his pulse skyrocketed.

“—cannot throw us onto the street like garbage!” That voice was a whipcrack. Regulus could see her face in his mind’s eye, pinched with fury under the guise of composure. He took a silent breath through his nose, then blew it out through his mouth. The wall was solid against his back.

The security guard sighed. “Look, ma’am, nobody is allowed in the rink before the game. I’m sorry, but those are the rules I’m here to enforce. You either have to stay here in the lobby or leave.”

Regulus heard her snort. “Bring my son to me and we will leave.”

“He’s getting ready with the rest of the team right—”

“I’m not here for Sirius,” she said disdainfully. Regulus’ stomach dropped to the floor so fast he thought he might faint, right there in the middle of the hall. She knows.

The thought came with a kind of sharp clarity usually reserved for religious experiences or getting smacked upside the head by your brother’s slapshot. If they found him, they would cause problems. They would throw a fit worthy of an Oscar, and Sirius would be angry, Sirius would be upset, and like always Regulus would try to stay quiet so the situation never escalated and go along with whatever they told him and—

His teeth began to chatter as he hurried down the hall at a brisk walk, forcing himself back from a run. He couldn’t risk being overheard. In the back of his mind, he imagined his father’s footsteps coming ever closer and the click of his mother’s sensible heels that probably cost more than a month’s rent at Leo’s apartment. His stomach shook and flopped over on itself like a dying seal.

No, he thought as he picked up the pace, keeping his jaw tight and his eyes focused forward. Anywhere he went, they would find him. The PT room would be locked—he didn’t know the new woman well enough to ask to hide there. The bathrooms would be too easy for them to track down. The locker room…

Regulus felt his thoughts stutter to a halt even as his feet carried him through a labyrinth of linoleum halls. Sirius didn’t know. Sirius had no fucking clue that his worst nightmare was within a hundred kilometers of him, ten kilometers, one. Regulus exhaled hard and made a sharp right turn.


Leo gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed, and then the door shut. Regulus could hear their voices in the hall for a moment before they faded, leaving him in a silent locker room with his arms crossed over his chest and dozens of eyes on him. “Regulus,” Dumo said. Regulus stared at the door and willed the tears back. Coward, his mind hissed. There was a rustling noise before a hand brushed his elbow. The Lions were the touchiest team he had ever met; somehow, he didn’t mind as much anymore. “Viens ici.”

“Ils vont lui faire du mal.” They’re going to hurt him. He kept his voice soft, but heard a sharp intake of breath from someone to his left and closed his eyes.

Dumo’s hand steadied on his elbow. “They won’t.”

Regulus shook his head, tightening his hold on himself. He wished he had worn his hoodie to give himself something to pick at. “You don’t know them.”

“Mon fils,” Dumo said. “You think any of those boys would let someone hurt their captain?”

His feet were rooted to the floor, but some of the pressure in his abdomen released. The mere idea of any of the Lions letting someone lay a hand on Sirius was simply impossible. “How did they know?” he whispered.

A moment of quiet passed; Regulus could feel himself shivering. “I don’t know,” Dumo answered, moving his hand to rest between Regulus’ shoulder blades.

Salt burned his eyes. “Everywhere I go, they find me.”

“We can fix that.”

“After All-Stars, I thought—” Regulus pressed his lips together as familiar self-loathing reared its head. “I should have changed my phone number. I—merde, I knew something like this was going to happen. That fucking video—”

“Come sit,” Dumo interrupted, still calm. “Have some water. We can’t fix anything right now, ouais?”

Regulus resisted the tug on his arm. “I need to help him.”

“You need to stay here.” He looked to the side and found Logan looking back him. His face was flushed with anger, but it wasn’t directed at Regulus. “Sirius has everyone he needs with him right now.”

The words seemed to physically pain Logan, and Regulus wanted to snap at him, but couldn’t bring himself to deny it. Logan was too much of a hothead to enter that kind of delicate situation, where the smallest edge of emotion would be ripped to shreds. Regulus certainly wouldn’t make things better—if he went out there, he had no doubt things would light up faster than a torch on gasoline. His mother would sink her fangs in, and Sirius…Sirius’ off-ice temper could tolerate a lot, but Regulus wasn’t willing to find its limits.

It still hurt to follow Dumo back to his stall and fold himself in the unfamiliar seat.

“Drink.” A waterbottle tapped his shoulder. Regulus glanced up suspiciously, and Winter rolled his eyes. “It’s Gatorade. You look like you’re about to hurl.”

“I might,” Regulus muttered, though he unscrewed the cap and took a sip all the same. Low conversation had started up again in some corners of the room; the air was bitter with tension. Three seats down, Finn’s leg was still bouncing at light speed, and Logan’s burning gaze was fixed on the door like he was going to rush it any second. Regulus couldn’t blame him.

Winter sat down in the empty stall next to him with a heavy sigh and stretched his legs out. “I’ve got a question, baby Black.” Regulus cocked an eyebrow. “Is the hair genetic, or do you have some sort of routine? Cause I asked your brother and he was an asshole about it.”

Someone snorted. Regulus just stared at him. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Do I look like I joke about good hair?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you not wash your hair?”

Winter leaned his elbows on his knees. “Are you trying to give me the same ‘I just wash it’ bullshit Sirius did?”

My brother is possibly getting his ass kicked by our parents and this motherfucker is asking about my hair. Regulus began to wonder what kind of cosmic fuckup he had been in a past life to deserve the Lions. “Yes, Winter, I just wash it. Like a normal person.”

“You’re not gonna get it out of them, Kase,” Jackson Nadeau half-laughed.

“There’s nothing to ‘get out’,” Regulus protested. “What, do you think Sirius lied to you?”

“Yes,” several voices chorused. Winter rolled his eyes. “Come on, nobody has hair that nice naturally.”

“It’s just how it is,” Regulus insisted. “Dumo, you know this.”

But Dumo, the traitor, just raised his hands with a smile and said nothing. “I never would have pegged you as the type to keep family secrets,” Winter mused. “And if you keep calling me ‘Winter’, I’ll keep calling you ‘Black’, and it’s going to get confusing.”

Regulus blinked. “What else would you call me?”

“Jesus, kid, ever heard of a nickname, or are the Snakes pretentious enough to ignore that tradition, too?” Something must have shown through Regulus’ careful mask, because Winter’s face softened. “Call me Kasey. Or Kase, or Bliz, or whatever. Winter makes me feel old.”

“You can call him ‘honeybear’,” Finn suggested around a grin.

Winter—Kasey, Regulus corrected—fixed him with a glare. “There’s one person on earth that can call me that, and it sure as hell ain’t you.”

“Oh, sorry, lemme just call Alex real quick—”

“You little shit—”

“I thought your girlfriend’s name was Natalie?” Regulus instantly regretted his words as everyone turned to look at him. “I—sorry, I must have misheard.”

Kasey cleared his throat, blushing slightly, and Regulus saw Logan bite down a smile. “Natalie is my girlfriend. And Finn’s brother, Alex, is my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Sorry, Sirius didn’t mention it.”

“Leo never told you?”

“We don’t make a habit of gossiping, no.”

“That is such a lie,” Logan snorted. He quirked an eyebrow. “What, Bliz, did you think he was going to be weird about it?”

“No,” Kasey scoffed.

“I told you he was cool.”

Regulus frowned. “You talk about me?”

Logan gave him a strange look. “You’re my boyfriend’s best friend and my brother’s brother. Of course I talk about you.”

“Why would you do that?” Regulus asked, suddenly wary. He wasn’t stupid. The Lions and the Snakes had never gotten along well, and he hadn’t been the nicest person even a year prior. The video of him bashing Sirius—dirty players, him and his Cubs—was still circulating the internet like wildfire under his name. It wasn’t like Regulus had ever been the most approachable person, either. He had barely spoken to half the team.

“Because Cap brags about you all the time and we have to keep up,” Kasey said after a half-beat of awkward silence. To Regulus’ surprise, there was nothing but honesty in his expression. “And Leo talks about you when you guys hang out. It’s just regular shit, nothing—”

A tumble of shouts echoed down the hall and Regulus was on his feet in a heartbeat, every muscle seizing. “No—”

“Attendre!” Dumo caught Logan around the chest two steps to the door and planted a hand on Regulus’ shoulder. Every breath took effort. “Wait.”

“That came from the rink,” Logan snapped.

Wait,” Dumo repeated. No more noise reached through the door and Regulus’ mind began to spiral. Sirius was hurt. It was all his fault. His parents had won. They were on their way, and Remus and James and Leo had betrayed him.

Yet instead of more shouting, he heard Sirius’ voice. The words were incomprehensible through the door and the distance, but his tone was clipped and calm and clear. He didn’t sound like he was in any sort of pain. He sounded like he was in control.

“Finn, can you check?” Dumo asked without budging a muscle, as if he could read Regulus’ mind.

Finn crossed the room with a hard swallow and slipped out the door; the three seconds he was gone felt like a lifetime, and Regulus felt his shivering return. The door closed with hardly a sound. “They’re fine,” Finn said. “They’re—everyone’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Did they hurt him?” Regulus asked before Finn could answer. He was terrified, paralyzed to the spot. If the answer was yes, he knew his temper would get the better of him, Dumo’s hold be damned. No more hiding, he swore to himself. No more hovering just beneath the surface.

“No. Cap’s…he’s talking to them. Just talking.”

A collective pressure lifted from the room and Regulus closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

Dumo gave him a gentle nudge back toward the stalls and Regulus felt a different hand guide him over; Kasey was watching the door intently, even as he ushered Regulus to sit on the floor. “Stay.”

“For what?”

“I need to do a science experiment.”

Regulus ducked out of the way, alarmed. “On me?”

“I need to see whether your hair looks better because I braid mine too much.”

“You…what?” Too much was happening, far too fast. Regulus needed to curl up under a blanket for at least an hour and not talk to anyone.

Kasey finally looked at him. His brows was furrowed and the set of his mouth read ‘worry’ like an open book, but one corner tugged up. “Nat braids my hair before games, and then I stick my helmet on. I know it’s not the helmet ‘cause Cap’s stolen that and it didn’t do jack shit. The braids have to be the answer.”

Regulus stared at him, dumbstruck. “You want to braid my hair.”

“For science,” Kasey confirmed.

My hair.”

“It’s longer than Cap’s, so yeah.”

“I—” Regulus glanced at Logan, who shrugged from his place tucked against Finn’s side. He shifted, then settled his weight back. He could either keep staring at the door and fight the urge to cause more problems, or he could entertain his racing thoughts with the most bizarre thing to ever happen to him. Kasey seemed to need the distraction as well. “…okay.”

“I usually have two, is that cool?”

“I can’t say I care,” Regulus answered honestly, drawing a smattering of laughter from the others. That was new. People didn’t usually laugh around him, unless he was the butt of the joke. None of them looked like they were making fun of him, though.

Kasey’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he took a few too-long strands from the front and began weaving them back, over and under in simple motions that Regulus could feel with each light tug. It was a decent feeling, when he relaxed into it; nobody gave them a second look. He could sort of understand why Sirius liked it so much when Remus touched his hair.

The braids were short, barely reaching the back of his neck—Kasey left the ends loose and started working on the other one without skipping a beat. Regulus could feel the finished one loosening already as small wisps spilled back out over the shell of his ear. A shriek he knew well echoed from the rink and he flinched, but Kasey touched his shoulder lightly and just kept on working. “Chill,” he said. It reminded him more than a little of the way Sirius said ‘deep breaths’ when nightmares sent him to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning.

Regulus felt a tap on his arm a few seconds later. “Done?”

“Done. I’m gonna get them out now and see if that did anything.” He nodded and felt a light pull before the braid came undone. Kasey huffed. “Damn.”

“I told you, that’s not how it works.”

“Yeah, well, a man can hope. Maybe if I do it tighter.”

The silent question prodded the back of Regulus’ mind. It’ll be weird, the same voice that told him he would never live up to Sirius’ shiny captain glory whispered.

It might be fun. The thought brought the shadow of a smile to his face. “Maybe,” Regulus said, crossing his legs.

Kasey had barely brought the front strands back before the locker room door opened and six players stumbled in together. Sirius was visibly shaking, but his expression was full of nothing but shock and joy; behind him, James’ smug smile could have powered the city for a hundred years. Sirius’ eyes zeroed in on him and Regulus beamed, watching his shoulders sag. Dumo caught him in a half-collapse, half-hug right at the entrance.

Regulus’ throat was tight as he got to his feet and closed the space between them. Sirius let go of Dumo and dragged him in right away with a harsh exhale, gripping Regulus so tight he might’ve left bruises. “It’s done,” he said hoarsely. Sheer relief washed like ice water through Regulus’ veins and he clung to Sirius’ shoulders. “It’s done, it’s okay—”

“You’re okay.” Regulus sniffed back tears and felt Sirius’ chest cave. “Fuck, I can’t believe you—what did you do?”

“I don’t even know,” Sirius answered, a little hysterical. “I don’t care. They left. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t have let them take you, Reg, I swear.”

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Sirius’ jersey until his knuckles ached. “I know. But they can’t have you, either.”

Chapter 73: Nosebleed Section

Summary:

Logan gets hurt during a game

Chapter Text

Logan Tremblay did not back down from a fight. Especially not one that dropped itself so nicely into his lap.

“Bitchass motherfucker,” he snarled, jamming his elbow into Hanes’ gut as they grappled. Hanes had three inches on him but was built like a twig—one solid shoulder jam into his sternum, and Logan heard his breath rush out around a grunt.

His own helmet was long gone and the whistle warnings blasted sharp in his ears; a set of hands locked onto his upper arms and began dragging him away. “That’s enough, Tremblay,” the ref barked. “Hanes, you better not—”

Logan didn’t hear the full warning, because his vision went dark.

The blinding pain hit before the spots in his eyes fully cleared. Something warm was gushing down his numb lips and chin. Logan tasted metal, and raised a clumsy hand to check until his knees gave out under him and the ref had to haul him upright a second time. “Oh, shit,” he said thickly, blinking down at the crimson drips on his jersey.

People were shouting. Nothing good came from people shouting, as a general rule. A blurry face swam into view and he nearly went crosseyed trying to focus. “Lo? Lo, hey, look at me.”

“Hey, Harzy,” he managed as he stumbled to his feet and immediately listed forward into Finn’s arms. “Woah.”

“Oh—Jesus, Leo,” Finn muttered. Logan squinted to follow his line of sight and whistled lowly when he found the intended target. Sometimes, he forgot how strong Leo was. How those broad shoulders filled out his goalie pads like he was born for it, how his long legs could take him across the ice in a few strides, how one ungloved hand could easily hold a grown man by the scruff of his jersey and drag him to the nearest ref. He even gave Hanes a light shake when he tried to squirm free.

“That’s hot,” Logan said approvingly. The rink had started to spin a little. His face felt like it was on absolute fucking fire. “Harzy?”

“Yeah?”

“My mouth tastes weird.”

Finn cursed again under his breath and tugged his sleeve down, then pressed it beneath Logan’s nose in a familiar routine. It was their own little dance they had been doing for eight years, now—Logan fights, Logan bleeds, Finn soaks up the blood, Finn looks after him for the next day or two with the occasional affectionate “idiot” thrown in as compensation.

“Did he hit me?” Logan asked as they shuffled toward the bench.

“Headbutt, the motherfucker.”

Logan attempted a grin; from the look on Finn’s face, it came out as more of a grimace. “Hey, that’s what I called him. Did you know helmets are really fuckin’ hard?”

“Yeah, baby, I did.”

“Did I win the fight?”

“Mhmm.”

“Is my nose broken?”

Finn sighed. “For your sake, I hope not. Hey, Layla.”

“Logan Tremblay,” she huffed with a shake of her head. Logan had never heard his name used as an insult before. “C’mon, concussion check.”

“I feel dizzy,” he agreed, allowing Finn to transfer his weight to her shoulders like Logan was a ragdoll. “Layla, I can still taste blood.”

“That does not surprise me, bud,” she half-laughed. “Pain level on a scale of one to ten?”

“Eight. You ever had someone shove un piment up your nose?”

“A what?”

“Un piment.” Logan’s ankles wobbled for a moment before he righted himself. “Desolé. Ah, it’s the tiny, spicy vegetable? Tastes like hell.”

“Chili peppers?”

“Ouais.” He tried to smile and instantly regretted it as the diagonal lines returned to his vision. “This feels like someone put a lot of chili peppers in my face and I would really like to be unconscious right now.”

“Not on my watch.”

His adrenaline was fading fast, along with the delirious confusion. Logan was quite unkindly informed that both of those feelings had acted as a pad and distraction for the, frankly, excruciating pain that radiated all the way from the back of his throat to his forehead. “Oh, fuck.”

Layla stopped walking. Through the blur of involuntary tears, Logan could see the concern flooding her features. “Logan? Hey, eyes on me. What’s going on?”

“I can feel it,” he forced out through gritted teeth, though the clenching of his jaw only made the throbbing worse. “Fucking shit motherfucker—oh, that is so much worse.”

“That’s broken,” she said, almost to herself. “Okay, ten more feet and we’ll be in my office. Take it nice and slow.”

Logan blew out an unsteady exhale, then nodded as best he could. Calm thoughts, he reminded himself. Calm thoughts.


“Who is it?”

“Just us.”

“I need cuddles and at least two kisses, s’il vous plaît.”

The squeaky sneaker footsteps picked up the pace and Logan smiled, cracking an eye open when they halted by his bedside. Leo raised an unimpressed brow. “You broke yourself?”

He broke me,” Logan corrected, accepting Finn’s gentle kiss and reveling the butterflies that came with it. “And then you did something about it, so we’re good.”

“Concussion?”

“Just the nose.” He made kissy noises until Leo finally bent and brushed their lips together, skimming his thumb over Logan’s jaw. “I can’t feel my upper lip en ce moment, so I’m sorry if my kisses aren’t up to par.”

Leo frowned slightly when he pulled back. “You’ve got a little split in it.”

“Mmm. Not the first time. Cuddles?”

“Layla said we have to be gentle,” Finn informed him, tucking himself along Logan’s left side. “But I think this is an essential part of the healing process.”

“Ouais.” Logan leaned his head on one angular collarbone and held out his free arm with an expectant look; for all his fussing, Leo didn’t hesitate before claiming his place and resting a hand over Logan’s stomach. “Stop worrying, Knutty, mon dieu.”

Leo made a disgruntled noise into the bend of his neck, then left a small kiss there. “You’re broken. Of course I’m worried. How’s your pain?”

“I got ice and the good stuff. Can’t feel a thing.” That was a bit of a lie—he could still feel his pulse all throughout the bridge of his nose and into his back teeth, but Leo didn’t need to know that. It was manageable. There was no reason for anyone to worry more than they clearly were. Logan tilted his head to the side and let his eyes fall shut again, snuggling into Leo’s damp curls while Finn looped their fingers together.

He felt Finn’s chest buzz with a hum. “We got your stuff together, by the way.”

“Didn’t even think about that,” Logan mused. The freckle just above Leo’s eyebrow was looking far too lonely for his liking, and he pressed a light kiss to it. “Hey, Peanut, I saw your fight.”

“What fight?”

“Hanes.”

“Didn’t fight ‘im,” Leo mumbled, rubbing the side of his face on Logan’s shoulder.

“No, you just dragged his ass halfway across the ice,” Finn teased.

A small, pleased smile curled over Leo’s lips. “His skates stayed on the ice the whole time. He was fine.”

“Mauled his ego, but other than that…” Finn trailed off as the three of them dissolved into laughter. Logan tried to breathe in through his nose on instinct and winced. Both Finn and Leo went still. “Lo, you good?”

“Je vais bien,” he groaned with a light smack to the back of Finn’s head. “I told you to stop worrying.”

“We’re your boyfriends, it’s our job!”

Logan huffed. Stubborn. So rude. “I’m not made of glass.”

“Then you get to carry your own bag back to the car,” Leo teased. He patted Logan gently on the chest and sat up, leaving his side cold; his brows pitched. “God, you two are so cute.”

“We try.” Finn stretched until his feet fell over the end of the PT table, then pushed himself upright despite Logan’s noise of protest. “Let’s go, Tremblay, you need a shower and I need a snack.”

“Layla has snacks,” Logan grumbled, even as he hauled himself into a sitting position and blinked to clear the fizzy spots in his vision. “She’d share.”

Leo crinkled his nose. “Layla has healthy snacks.”

“And butterscotch.”

“Grandma candy?”

Logan raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Sometimes it’s good.”

Finn and Leo each went to wrap an arm around his lower back before Logan batted them away, rolling his eyes. Two boyfriends, and both possessed by my mother. His jersey was a lost cause—even a few rounds of washing wouldn’t get those bloodstains out—but his pads were in a neat pile that made it easy to tuck into his duffel. Despite Leo’s earlier words, Logan barely got a hand on the straps before it was snatched away. He scowled, but Leo just smiled sweetly.

Finn sidled up to him the second they made it into the hallway and looped an arm around Logan’s waist with a comforting squeeze to his hip. Logan sighed through his nose despite the awkward whistling noise that followed. “Harzy…”

“What?”

“I can walk. I don’t need help.”

“See, I don’t think you understand the point of having two boyfriends,” Finn said. Logan quirked a brow; Finn knocked their temples together lightly. “It’s not about needing anything. You get to let us help.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“Well, that’s the point of me having two boyfriends.” He turned a sunny smile on Logan and kissed the tip of his bruised, battered nose. “I get to help you whenever I want and let Knutty do the hard work.”

Chapter 74: Healing Hands

Summary:

Harvard FinnLo comfort during Finn's 2nd concussion

Chapter Text

“Harzy?”

Finn flinched, then winced again at the stab of pain that shot all the way to his neck at the sharp movement.

There was a pause. Soft, socked footsteps padded across the carpet. “I brought some soup,” Logan said, quieter than before.

“Not hungry.” His tongue felt heavy.

“You need to eat.” The gentle clink of a spoon against the bowl may as well have been church bells; Finn felt a tug at the covers and sighed when they slipped back over his shoulder. “What level?”

“I dunno.” He wrinkled his nose at the familiar smell of canned soup. “I’m serious, man, if I eat I’m gonna throw up again.”

Logan was quiet for so long, Finn began to wonder whether he had left. Then he kicked himself for even considering it. Logan wouldn’t leave him like that. Not when he was down and sick. He never had before.

Sure enough, a cool hand pressed over Finn’s forehead. The relief was instant, though whether it was from contact or just the presence of another person, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He was lonely, and bored, and couldn’t wait until his 24 hours of relative isolation were up at last. Logan’s thumb rubbed gently over his temple. “If you eat, your headache will get better.”

Finn chewed the inside of his lip. A consistent, pounding pain continued behind his left eye. “Help me up.”

“Atta boy.” The words sounded bizarre in Logan’s accent and he huffed a laugh as Logan eased his shoulders up and tucked a pillow behind his lower back in a familiar routine—they had done it once already, during the last time Finn got stupid during a game and went ass over teakettle into the boards. Logan made a soft noise as Finn curled into his side shamelessly, but brought the bowl over a second later. “Sorry, almost—almost dropped it. Can you hold the spoon?”

“Yeah,” Finn mumbled. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus. Logan’s solid presence was his only consistent anchor. “Bowl?”

“Here.” Warm pressure settled on his thigh and he squinted, locating the spoon by touch alone.

“Glasses?”

“Nightstand. You’re not supposed to read, though, remember?”

Finn allowed himself a moment to sulk as he sipped the broth. Chicken. His favorite. “Wasn’t gonna read.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Fuck you.”

“I love you, too,” Logan huffed. Finn’s heart skipped a beat and he swallowed down the feelings that began banging at the walls of their lockbox in his heart. I love you. They said it to each other all the time, but it never held much weight.

Not to Logan, at least. Finn was sure of it. It didn’t matter that those three words were like the sky and he was Atlas whenever they slipped out, embellished by a sweet accent.

He half-laughed into the next spoonful of soup. If Logan could read his thoughts, he would chirp Finn to hell and back for being the most dramatic English major of all time. “What’s so funny?” Logan asked, quiet once more.

“Nothing.” A minute of comfortable silence passed as Finn searched for the good noodle bits. “I’m bored.”

“I’m still not going to let you read.”

“You’re the worst best friend in the whole world.”

“I know.” He could hear Logan’s smile. “Finish your soup and I’ll grab the Tylenol. You’re due.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, man,” Finn said, and he meant every word.

Logan fell silent; his hand moved in steady lines over Finn’s shoulder where he was propping him up. “Yeah,” he finally said. “You’d be fucked.”

Finn smiled so wide his headache throbbed, and he didn’t care one bit. That fluttery feeling had returned to his heart, the one that made him want to kick his feet and scream into a pillow like every cheesy 2000s chick-flick. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of their room over the next half minute, making it much easier to pick through his soup—first the noodles, then the chicken, then the broth. Things got soggy otherwise. Logan had never chirped him for his patterns.

“Lo?”

“Finn.”

He sighed. The bowl was ringed by a series of Pooh-bear designs. “Am I an idiot?”

“No.” There was no hesitation in his voice, but no judgement, either. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“That’s not true,” Finn murmured as he set his empty bowl aside.

“It is.” It sounded like a promise; Logan never backed down from his promises. Something in Finn’s ribcage gave a traitorous heave.

“This is the second time,” he said instead of addressing the bubbling affection that became more aggressive when Logan’s hand resumed its soothing movements on his arm. “The second concussion in two years. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Logan caught his hands when he went to cover his face. “Stop.”

“The NHL isn’t gonna put up with this shit.” The throbbing, which had dulled during their conversation, was beginning to build behind his eye again. “I can’t keep being stupid in games. I’m running out of time.”

Stop.” Finn didn’t even realize Logan was still holding his hand (that was a lie, every cell of his body was attuned to Logan every second they were together) until he felt a light squeeze. “You’re 20, Finn. You have a year and a half left and you already play better than anyone else out there. I won’t tell you to be reckless, but it’s just a concussion. We’ll get through it.”

His vision blurred. “We?”

“You think I’m letting you go through this without me?” Logan’s tone was gently teasing, but his hold on Finn was solid. Solid as a mountain, like the rest of him. “Bullshit. You’re my best friend.”

A tear slid down Finn’s cheek and made his dry lips salty. He didn’t dare sniffle in case Logan heard, but it seemed to be a futile effort—with a slow exhale, Logan pulled him closer and let Finn rest his head on his shoulder. “I feel like such a fuckup,” Finn rasped after a few minutes of trying to get ahold of himself. “Jesus, Lo, I knew it was a bad move while I was doing it.”

Logan shrugged. His shirt was heavenly soft under Finn’s cheek. “So don’t do it again.”

“But what if—”

“Don’t. Do it. Again.” Logan flicked him on the arm. “And let your brain rest, it has enough to do with your nerd shit all the time without worrying. Give it a vacation.”

That drew a wet laugh from Finn and he scrubbed a hand down his face, making no move to pull away from the hug. “Lo?”

“Finn.”

“You’re the best best friend.”

Logan knocked their temples together with barely a whisper of a touch. His curls, unhindered by a hat for once, were soft on Finn’s forehead. “You’re a better best friend. I’ll go get your Tylenol, ouais?”

He pulled away and Finn silently mourned the loss until Logan bent and began to tuck him in, only half-joking if the careful maneuvering of Finn’s blankets was anything to go by. “Jettem, dear nurse!” Finn called as Logan disappeared into their bathroom.

Je t’aime!” Logan corrected. “And fuck you!”

Finn grinned and shuffled the sheets over his shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered, just for himself to hear.

Chapter 75: Big Stretch

Summary:

LeLo comfort; Logan discovers yoga

Chapter Text

Logan came around the corner of the kitchen like a bat out of hell, wild-eyed and tugging at the brim of his baseball cap, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears by the second.

Leo set his dish towel down and held his arms out for Logan to crumple into.

They stood in silence, swaying gently; Leo could feel Logan’s rapid pulse as he smoothed a hand over his back in long strokes, up and down, up and down, with enough pressure that Logan would feel it through the thick fabric of Finn’s hoodie. And when it calmed and Logan nuzzled beneath his jaw, Leo abandoned all movement to squeeze him tight. Logan smelled good when he tucked his nose into the curls peeking out from his hat. He was soft, and warm. His hands were still shaky where they splayed over Leo’s bare back.

“I think I’m bad at being a person,” came a mumbled confession after a long stretch of quiet.

Leo hummed—they had talked about it before, once or twice. He was generally good at emotional regulation, but Logan had spent so long stomping everything down that it was…hard, sometimes.

It was just hard.

It sucked. It hurt. Logan got shaky and worried and panicked, and it broke Leo’s heart to see him lost at sea. Hugs helped a lot. Other things, too, but where Finn needed kisses like he needed air, Logan preferred to be held until he came back to his body. They were all still learning each other—his boys put in so much effort to know how to love him right, and Leo treasured every new thing he found, however small.

“I think you’re really good at being a person,” he whispered with a small kiss to Logan’s ear. “You’re one of my favorite people, actually.”

“I need—” Logan broke off with an unhappy puff of air; his fingertips dug into Leo’s hips a little, still gentle but definitely there. “I feel like I need to go boxing and also throw up.”

Leo cupped the back of his neck in one hand and felt Logan melt into him a little more. “Did something happen?”

“There’s too much.”

He waited for Logan to continue, but no more words spilled out against his collarbone. “Too much what?”

“It’s just too much,” Logan repeated, more frustrated than before. He relaxed his hold on Leo’s hips and began running his hands along Leo’s sides as if to soothe himself with the contact. Leo couldn’t complain—Logan had the nicest hands he’d ever seen, and they fit just right in the dip of his waist. Logan paused there with a grumbly sort of noise. “Feelings, I think. I don’t know. It’s a lot and I want it out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Non.”

Worth a shot. Leo carefully removed the baseball cap and ran a hand through Logan’s hair, frizzy from tugging, before resting his chin on top. “Do you want me to keep hugging you?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said miserably. “I love you. You’re warm. Everything feels bad.”

“I love you, too,” Leo laughed into his curls. A few more moments couldn’t hurt. Logan fit just right in his arms, broad and solid yet short enough for a proper snuggle. Leo rubbed the thick muscle of his shoulder blade and felt the tension ease by a degree; Logan sighed, his breath cool on Leo’s skin. “Let’s try something, ouais?”

Logan groaned when Leo stepped away and began guiding him into the living room. “I take it back, come here and let me hug you more.”

“Five minutes,” Leo promised, then kissed his forehead and grabbed his computer off the desk. It didn’t take long to find the video—he used it more than he cared to admit, for everything from insomnia to the days when he wanted to curl up under a blanket and scream. The quiet, chiming music calmed him the second he pressed ‘play’.

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“Five minutes,” Leo repeated.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest with a suspicious glare. “You want me to do yoga?

“I want you to feel better,” he corrected. “And this always helps me. Come on, downward dog.”

“I—” Logan bit the inside of his cheek; Leo relaxed into the familiar stretch of his legs and back, and watched Logan look to the ceiling before grudgingly joining him on the floor. “Like this?”

“It’s not a plank. Ass up, Tremblay.”

“I’m doing it like her!” Logan protested, gesturing to the computer.

“Keep your feet flat.”

“I am not that flexible.”

Leo rolled his eyes and straightened up with a silent curse to his past self for not stretching that morning—Logan’s stomach muscles were wound tight when he pressed a flat palm to his abdomen and pulled him into the proper position, ignoring the groans and muttered curses that followed. “Better.”

“This is terrible, and I hate you.”

Leo patted him gently on the rear as he returned to his spot. “If you still hate me in four minutes, you’re free to do whatever.”

On the screen, Lillian arched down into cobra pose, and Leo sighed when his back cracked at the stretch. “This is nice,” Logan remarked.

Leo didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Keep your arms straight.”

“God damn you, you fucking flexible goalie.”

“You love how flexible I am,” Leo hummed, moving easily into child’s pose on Lillian’s cue. He couldn’t count the number of times he had blown off the last of his game-time adrenaline with a nice, long stretch—Lillian and her fellow instructors were practically family in his mind. “How’s this one feel?”

Silence answered him.

Leo paused, then frowned and cracked an eye open. “Lo, baby? You good?”

Logan mumbled something incomprehensible where his face was pressed to the floor and stretched his arms out further. His knees were tucked up perfectly, and his back held only the slightest curve. His breathing grew steadier with each exhale; Leo’s whole chest warmed as he watched the untethered tension roll out. Lillian changed positions, but Logan didn’t so much as twitch.

“Lo?”

“This,” Logan sighed. “This is what I needed.”

Leo smiled to himself and laid on his back, toying with Logan’s fingers where they splayed on the rug. “Feels pretty good, huh?”

“I get it now.”

“Yoga?”

“Floor time.”

Leo snorted, then gave in to full-blown laughter that made Logan grin through the sliver of space between his arm and the ground. Their loving and relentless teasing of Finn for his urge to lay on the floor after a novel’s particularly good plot twist had been a source of bonding right away—Logan’s tales of stepping over Finn in their dorm while he processed the shock of an unexpected love triangle brought the most wonderful strawberry blush to freckled cheeks, one that Leo lived to kiss away. Finn had been like that since the start, though, and it had only taken Leo a few weeks into his rookie season for the surprise of finding his roommate flat on his back with a book over his face to wear off.

He reached out to tug a lock of Logan’s hair. “You should tell him you converted. He’ll lose his mind.”

“Different reasons.” Logan flexed his fingers and rolled his weight back onto his heels, catlike, before sitting up with a last stretch of his back and flopping over to lay across Leo’s stomach. Emerald green eyes leveled scrutiny on his face. “You’re too smart.”

“Am I?”

“You knew that would work.”

“Course I did.”

“You’re going to make me do yoga with you forever, aren’t you?”

Leo grinned and ran a thumb over Logan’s lips to trace the curve of his smile. “Course I am.”

Chapter 76: Bonus Brother

Summary:

Sirius comforting Jules

Chapter Text

Snow crunched under Sirius’ feet, still thin and light but enough to make the grass slick. He kept his hands in his pockets to fight the chill; a twenty-foot walk wasn’t much, though he had the sneaking suspicion he would be out there for a while as he watched Jules scuff his foot against the snowbank beneath the bench.

“I don’t wanna talk, Re,” came a mumble from the depths of a crocheted scarf.

Sirius stopped at the far corner. The snowflakes were coming down heavier, but Jules showed no sign of budging from his seat. His breath formed a small white cloud when he sighed. “Can I sit?”

Jules startled, uncurling a little to peek out at him from under a thick Lions beanie. “Oh. Uh, I mean—yeah, sure, go ahead.”

“We don’t have to talk,” Sirius added as he settled on the worn wood, holding back a wince at the cold he could feel through both layers of his pants.

“ ’kay.”

A small jay hopped across the snow-coated fence; it trilled twice, then vanished back into the trees with a rustle of bright wings. Behind them, he could hear the faint sound of people bustling around the kitchen. Sirius pulled his hands from his pockets and blew into them, flexing his cold-stiffened knuckles.

The wind ruffled Jules’ hair when he leaned forward. “You didn’t bring gloves?”

“Forgot.”

“It’s ten degrees.”

“Negative twelve, actually.”

Jules’ eyes flared wide in shock, then narrowed. “Ten degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Nobody uses Fahrenheit anymore,” Sirius scoffed, tucking his hands back into the safety of his coat. “Haven’t you heard?”

“That’s so not true. Remus and my parents use it.”

“Maybe Wisconsin is the exception, eh?” He nudged Jules with his elbow and got a shove back from a bony shoulder, drawing a quiet laugh from them both. Sirius watched the jay return with a twig in its beak—it hopped around the base of the fence for a moment before flitting off again without a sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jules’ amusement dim into something…not sullen, like Adele got on bad days, but upset. His red cheeks disappeared into the safety of his scarf like a retreating turtle. Sirius’ heart pinched. “Do I get to be the exception for someone to talk to?” he ventured, keeping his voice quiet.

 “Mom and dad sent you to come get me?”

“Non.”

“Then why are you here?”

“You seemed upset.”

Jules glanced over and quirked a brow in an expression so quintessentially Remus it caught him off-guard for a moment, as if someone had laid two pictures over each other and blurred the hard lines. “So?”

So, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Jules looked away at that, his boot scraping a dent in the snow. Kids were resilient, but they were still kids. And when shit went down in their world, it almost always felt like the apocalypse. Sirius had learned enough from the Dumais to know an ‘I’m trying to be a grown-up and the universe sucks’ moment when he saw it. Jules needed gentleness without being smothered. It was probably for the best that Remus hadn’t come out to help, when he thought about it.

A small furrow appeared on Jules’ forehead. “Why do you even care?” he muttered, and though it was more confusion than accusation, Sirius still felt his stomach drop to his knees.

“Hey,” he said softly. Jules didn’t budge. “Jules, you know I care about you.”

“You care about Remus.”

“I care about you,” Sirius repeated. “You’re fun and smart and interesting. Remus is a bonus.”

Jules raised an eyebrow at him. “You married that bonus.”

“I did,” Sirius laughed. The idea still sent a tingling thrill through every nerve, even months later. He hummed, looking back to the fence. “D’accord, maybe Remus is a little more than a bonus. That doesn’t mean I don’t like hanging out with you, though.”

“In ten-degree weather?”

“In negative twelve-degree weather, yes.”

Jules wasn’t quick enough to hide his smile in his coat and scarf before Sirius saw it, and some of the worry in his chest loosened. They sat in relative quiet for another minute before Jules shook his head. “Remus would be, like, begging me to talk to him right about now.”

“Which is why your mother is making him clean his room.”

“Ugh, he’s stress-cleaning?”

Sirius mimicked Jules’ nose wrinkle and cast a significant look back toward the house. “I know.”

“It’s a really stupid thing to be upset about, just so you know.” Jules swiped his sleeve under his nose and kicked the snowbank again, clearly oblivious to the way Sirius’ pulse kicked with anticipation. Patience was a virtue Sirius had worked hard to cultivate, but fuck was it hard to keep ahold of when his baby siblings were hurting.

He nodded, letting the wind nip his cheeks. It almost felt like home. “It’s not stupid—”

“—if it makes me upset,” Jules finished for him with a roll of his eyes. “Got it. Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, child.”

The nose wrinkle returned. “Ew.”

Sirius stretched a leg out and bumped Jules’ boot with his own. The snow flurries had gone from fat, wet flakes to pinpricks of ice; the sun had already disappeared behind the trees ahead. His knuckles were starting to ache again. “I’m not going to force you to talk, but the temperature is going down and it’s not good to stay out here too long.”

Jules chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds. “You won’t laugh?”

“Not a chance,” Sirius promised, tracing an ‘x’ over his heart.

But Jules didn’t speak right away. His tentative smile faded and he tucked his chin down, button nose turning red in the late afternoon chill. He looked tiny in his winter gear, yet older than his twelve years at the same time. “You didn’t…” Sirius didn’t flinch when he faltered; waiting, however agonizing it could be, was essential to coaxing emotions out of stubborn children. Jules’ nose twitched before he straightened. “You didn’t actually pay for Remus to get into the NHL, did you?”

Oh, thank fuck. “No,” he answered honestly. “I had nothing to do with it. Coach didn’t tell me they were even considering it until the organization had already cleared him.”

“Okay.” Jules nodded, scooting an inch closer to him on the bench. “Okay, cool, good.”

“I’m glad you asked, though.”

That made Jules pause, every muscle frozen for a beat before he thawed and glanced over. It hurt a little to see the insecurity on his windburned face—Sirius shifted until their shoulders bumped, and almost immediately felt Jules lean into him. “I thought you’d be mad,” he confessed, just a degree above a whisper. “Or, like, offended.”

“Why would I be offended? It’s a fair question.”

“It’s not a good thing to assume.”

Sirius bit back a smile. If only he knew. “You are far from the first person to think that, Jules. You won’t be the last. At least you had the guts to ask me.”

“A lot of people at school think you made them do it,” Jules continued as if he hadn’t spoken, though his voice was stronger, more sure. “I think they’re assholes, but it’s…it started making a little bit of sense, you know?”

“I know,” Sirius agreed. Good Christ, did he know. He had read every explanation under the sun for something he didn’t even do in the first place, and even he had to admit some of them were pretty convincing.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Conviction made Jules’ voice sharp around the edges as he watched a gray squirrel scamper along the fenceline. “Plus, Remus would end you if he thought you were babying him like that.”

“Ouais, I’d be six feet under,” Sirius snorted, pulling a crooked grin from the depths of Jules’ uncertainty.

“I hated thinking about it. That you’d do something like that, but also that Remus was in on it.” Green grass scattered with brown emerged beneath Jules’ boot as he scraped off the last of the frost and snow. Something wistful shone on his face; Sirius had seen that look before on Regulus, and Finn, and even Logan from time to time. Pride and loving envy wrapped up in the same package. “He’s a really great player, Sirius.”

“He is.”

“We used to skate in the Dairy Queen parking lot if the pond wasn’t frozen or the rink was closed. Even when he had to stop playing, he used to sneak out his bedroom window with his rollerblades.” Amber eyes pinned him in place for a moment. “Don’t tell my parents that part.”

Sirius mustered his most solemn expression. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

That earned him half a smile before Jules looked away again. “It would have totally sucked if he got that spot and nobody knew how good he is.”

Sirius sighed, and watched his breath freeze in the air ahead of them. Jules was right in more ways than one—he was pretty sure he knew it, too. Remus was just good. The ice was optional. Nobody knew that better than them, but it was nice that he finally got a chance to show everyone else. “You’re going to be an awesome player when you grow up,” Sirius said at last.

The nostalgic haze vanished in an instant, and cocky mischief took its place on Jules’ elfin features. “I’m already an awesome player.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Sirius laughed, ruffling his hair up. “D’accord, inside, awesome players need all their fingers and toes.”

“I have gloves!” Jules protested, though he didn’t fight when Sirius ushered him to his feet and back toward the house.

“Yes, but I don’t.”

Jules looked as if he was about to continue, then shrugged. “Yeah, fair. You should know better. Aren’t you from Canada?”

“Inside, awesome player, before your brother starts stress-cleaning your room, too.”

That was all it took. Jules hurried toward the house at a run, tripping over his heavy boots with every other step. “Remus!” he shouted. “Don’t touch my stuff!

Chapter 77: Test Drive

Summary:

Reg and Jax navigating friendship

Chapter Text

Jax glanced up, then back down. Then up again, because they were pretty sure Regulus was—yep, definitely sure—and fixed their eyes on their computer screen again. An itch prickled the nape of their neck and they absently scratched at it.

One more glance couldn’t hurt.

What are you looking at?” Jax blurted when they found Regulus’ steel-gray eyes still focused on them with deadly precision.

“Are you homophobic?”

Jax felt their mouth fall slightly open. At the next table over, a young woman quickly began gathering her things. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“Are you homophobic?” Regulus repeated without blinking.

“Regulus.” Is he high? Is he dying? Jax shook their head, so beyond baffled there wasn’t a single word to replace it. “I’m literally nonbinary.”

“But are you homophobic?”

Why—” They pinched the bridge of their nose so hard spots danced behind their eyelids. Homophobic. Am I, pride flag central, homophobic. “No,” Jax sighed. “No, Reg, I am not homophobic, though I am dying to know what made you think I was.”

“You didn’t do anything. I just figured I’d ask.”

“In the middle of the library?”

Regulus frowned. “Was there a place you’d prefer?”

Jesus Christ. “You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes because you were worried I was homophobic?”

Color rose to Regulus’ cheeks and he squared his shoulders, something that seemed to be a habit whenever someone made him uncomfortable. It reminded Jax of a porcupine raising its spines, or a cat’s fur bristling in defense. He finally looked away, fiddling with the spiral of his notebook. “Just making sure,” he muttered.

Worry took the place of the itch at Jax’s neck; they cast a cursory look around for other students, then shifted their chair closer to the table and bent their head. “Are you…?”

“What? No.” Regulus stopped his fidgeting and tucked his hands under his thighs. “My brother is. I’m—hmm.”

Jax stifled a laugh at the disgruntled noise, and after a moment’s hesitation reached out to roll Regulus’ pen toward him. “You don’t have to talk about it. If you want to, though, I’m all ears.”

“I know what I am,” Regulus said with a disgruntled wrinkle of his nose that said the exact opposite. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your…stuff.”

“It’s cool,” Jax assured him, offering a smile that made some of the tension bleed from Regulus’ posture.

They didn’t talk about it for another month.

Then Regulus kissed them.

It was a mutually-agreed-upon kiss, to be fair, but the fact of the matter was that they were both a little tipsy and Jax had never been the type to take things like that seriously. Regulus, on the other hand…

“Reg—”

“I’m sorry!”

Jax paused, turning back to the building for a second with a muttered curse before trudging through the blistering wind once more. “Yeah,” they muttered, even though Regulus surely wouldn’t hear it. “You said that.”

Everything had been fine at first. Kris had gone to get them all refills—free ones, thanks to it being his brother’s apartment—and Regulus had a funny sort of frown on his face. Jax hadn’t thought much of it. Reg was known for his lethal case of RBF among their friend group, and it only made him more endearing. But that frown was the kind that came with some serious thought and Jax spent the better part of five minutes wondering when Regulus was just going to spit it out already. They had been a little surprised by the ice-cold determination in Regulus’ eyes, though not nearly as surprised as when the words finally decided to work.

Can I kiss you?

…what?

Can I kiss you? On the mouth. You don’t have to.

Like an idiot, Jax had shrugged and grinned and set their empty cup down. It wouldn’t be the first time they had kissed a friend at a party. Sure, dude, they had said, as comfortable as ever around Regulus. Go for it.

They had just enough time to register that Regulus had soft lips and terrible kissing technique before there was a burst of motion, an apology, and Regulus disappeared into the crowd of stumbling college students packed into a too-small space. Jax had only managed to call after him once before he was out of sight.

Which brought them to the present, both shivering like idiots who had left their coats inside during November in New-fucking-York while Regulus did his level best to fast-walk the whole half-mile to their dorm and Jax chased him down for…reasons. Reasons that were 90% platonic and 100% concerned.

“Can we talk?” Jax called, breaking into a light jog.

“I’d rather not!”

“Please?”

Regulus didn’t grace that with a response, his shoulders up by his ears and arms wrapped around himself like a hug.

“Reg, c’mon, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything!” and then, so quiet Jax nearly missed it, “that’s the point.”

“I’m not upset.”

“I am!”

“Why?”

“Because—” A moment of hesitation followed. “Because fuck you, that’s why!”

“That’s not gonna work on me, Reg.”

“Yes, well, it should!”

Jax’s breath steamed in the air when they huffed; the cold air burned their lungs on the next inhale and they silently cursed Regulus’ natural athleticism. The guy was fitter than any college student had the right to be.

Reg,” they tried again. “You can’t outrun this.”

“Why not?”

“We live together, dumbass.” Regulus came to an abrupt halt, illuminated by the streetlamp overhead and the porch light of their dorm building. Jax waited a few feet away and tried not to shiver too loudly. “Look, I can sleep somewhere else tonight, but…”

“No.” Regulus slumped. Jax could make out just his profile in the darkness, all shadows and angles and something very, very hurt that they still didn’t understand. Regulus rubbed the back of his neck. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’m—can we go inside?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Jax hoped their relief didn’t come through too much; then again, it really didn’t matter. Regulus was bad at emotions, but excellent at reading people. It was a gift they had wished for many times.

They headed indoors in complete silence, maintaining the comfortable distance. A theory began to take shape in the back of Jax’s mind, but they stayed quiet until the door to their dorm closed with a dull thunk and the overhead light flickered to life. Regulus dropped his keys on his desk and scrubbed a hand through his hair, still shivering a little.

Jax remained in the doorway. The theory rolled and ruminated, then tumbled out of their mouth just as Regulus kicked his shoes under the bed. “Have you ever kissed someone?”

Regulus snorted humorlessly. “That bad, was it?”

“No,” they answered honestly.

“I meant what I said. We don’t need to talk about it.” Regulus’ coat came off next and disappeared into his closet. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jax said gently, stepping further into the room. Regulus kept his gaze down as he shuffled into pajama pants and pushed up onto his mattress, folding his long legs under himself with distinct misery written on every inch.

“I pressured you.”

“You didn’t. I promise.”

“You don’t like me like that.”

Jax let out a slow breath and moved to their own bed, smoothing the covers down just for something to do. Regulus was prone to making assumptions when it came to other people’s opinions of him—they didn’t like thinking about the why behind that habit. “No,” they admitted. “Not really.”

“You thought Sirius was hot, and we look the same.”

“I can think people are hot without wanting to fuck them, Reg.”

Some of the resentment faded away with Regulus’ grimace. “I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I.”

“But we kissed.”

“So?” Regulus tucked his knees up to his chest, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands. Jax couldn’t count how often they had come home to find Regulus picking at the fabric of his shirts; no hem or cuff was safe when the nervousness set in. They scooted closer, closing a fraction of the distance between the beds. “You can kiss people and not sleep with them. You can kiss people and not date them. It’s just kissing.”

A dark red thread came loose. “A kiss means something.”

“Not if you don’t want it to.” How did nobody tell you this? Jax silently wondered. Regulus had been so at ease around his brother at parent’s weekend, but every deep conversation they had brought up more indications that Regulus’ life had been very different in the not-so-distant past.

“I don’t want to sleep with anyone,” Regulus said with more conviction than Jax had heard all night. They waited, and watched him deflate. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

Regulus fell quiet for a longer stretch, his careful eyes focused on the steady blink of Kris’ alarm clock. “I don’t know if I want to date you, Jax,” he said, limbs pulled tight to his body. “I don’t know whether that was a good kiss. I don’t know the difference between wanting to be friends and wanting to be more, and I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” Jax said softly.

“I really don’t know.” Regulus sniffled, though his eyes were dry and Jax was grateful for it. They had only seen him cry once, and that was enough. “That’s not meant to be an excuse.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

“I don’t know how to have this many friends.”

Rip my heart out and stomp on it next time, would you? Jax swallowed hard. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll help.”

Regulus ran both hands down his face. “Can you turn the lights out? It’s easier to talk in the dark.”

“Yeah, man, I’ve got you.” That, at least, Jax could do. Regulus turned their shared lamp on as they headed back to bed, but otherwise didn’t budge. The gentle glow took away some of his sharp edges, softening him into the person they knew.

Regulus pillowed his chin on his arms, only half-visible in the thick fabric of his Lions hoodie. “My old friends were fucking terrible, Jax.”

“I figured.”

“I really like you. I want to hang out and have you over for holidays, and I like it when we hug, but I don’t think I want to kiss you anymore. Does that make any kind of sense?”

Hello, Regulus’ old friends? I’ve come to ask about your spleen’s extended warranty. “I like you, too,” Jax said, reaching out to tug on the end of Regulus’ duvet to get his attention. “And that sounds like regular friendship to me, Reg.”

“But I’m friends with Leo, and I don’t think he’s cute like you are.”

Jax tugged again until Regulus stopped hiding his face in his knees. “You’re my friend. You’re hot. Kris is my friend. He’s not my type. I care about you both the same way.”

Regulus groaned into his sleeves. “Why do feelings have to be confusing?

“Fuck if I know, dude.”

“I…am so tired.”

“Go to bed, then.”

“Don’t we need to talk about the whole kissing and dating and friend-ing thing?”

“We agreed we don’t want to date, right?” Jax half-shrugged. “We’re friends. I’ve kissed friends before. There’s not much else to worry about.”

Regulus stared at them in a mix of awe and confusion. “You are so relaxed all the time.”

“Most of the time,” they corrected, flipping back their bedsheets. “It takes effort, too. I’m turning the lamp off unless we need to talk more.”

Regulus shook his head, though his brows were furrowed. “Non, I’m good for now. Bonne nuit.”

“Sleep well, Reg.” The room fell into darkness and Jax curled up beneath the soothing weight of their blankets. Their hearing was still dampened from the party, and they could feel sobriety creeping in; with any luck, the hangover wouldn’t be too bad. Deep conversations had a tendency to ease oncoming headaches.

The rustling from Regulus’ bed stopped. “Are you sure you’re okay with the—”

“The kiss didn’t bother me,” Jax mumbled around a yawn. “There wasn’t even tongue. It barely counted. Sleep.”

“I wouldn’t stick my tongue in your mouth for a first kiss,” Regulus grumbled as he continued getting comfortable.

“Mhmm.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“I know.”

“Well—fine. Good. I’m glad.”

Jax rolled their eyes, grateful for the shadows that hid their grin. “If you’re still worried, we can talk about it tomorrow when I’m not still a little drunk.”

“…really?”

“You. Unconsciousness. Now.”

The bedframe squeaked under Regulus’ constant movement, then went quiet when he sighed. “You’re a great friend. I’m very lucky to have you. Just so you know.”

Jax smiled into their pillow. He could act as tough and scary as he wanted, but Regulus was a big old softie beneath all those layers. Someday, they hoped other people would see the same. Regulus deserved it. “Wouldn’t wish for anyone else, Reg.”

Chapter 78: Au Revoir

Summary:

Reg goes back to college; FinnLo comforting Leo

Chapter Text

“I’m totally fine,” Leo said, decidedly not fine. “Like, so good right now.”

Logan rubbed his lower back, doing his best to make himself a comfortable weight against Leo’s trembling side. “Mhmm.”

“I’m really just—” Leo cleared his throat. “—yeah, no, this is so much easier than the first time.”

The doors of the gate ahead closed and he felt Leo’s breath hitch; strong, tan arms folded across his chest in a self-soothing hug, the kind Leo always gave himself when he was feeling fragile and wanted to continue looking Totally Fine And Alright, Thank You to the rest of the world. Logan caught Finn’s gaze over his shoulder and a significant look passed between them. Leo sniffled.

“It’s okay to miss him,” Finn murmured, folding a hand over the back of Leo’s neck with a comforting squeeze.

“I know,” Leo said thickly.

“And nobody’s going to think it’s silly.”

“Sure, yeah, I know that.”

Logan bit his lip, burrowing a little closer into Leo’s hoodie. Outside, the plane’s engines started up. Part of him wished they could see Regulus settling into his seat, just to have something to point out for Leo—part of him knew that wouldn’t make things any better. Goodbyes were hard, even if they were temporary. God knows he had spent enough time doing that exact thing when Finn had to go back to Gryffindor during that horrible year they were apart. “He promised to text when he landed, ouais?”

Leo nodded silently. His too-bright eyes were still trained on the wide airport windows, though he didn’t look like he was focused on much more than controlling his shaky lower lip. Finn brushed a kiss over his temple, just below the grey patch of hair, and Leo shuddered. “He’s—fuck, he’s my best friend, and I’m gonna miss him. I’m gonna miss him, and it’s gonna suck, even though he’s happy at school and I’ve got everything here. I hate goodbyes. God, look at me, fucking losing it in the airport—”

“Hey, hey, no,” Logan chided, taking Leo’s hands when he went to cover his face. The bit of strength he had mustered crumpled back into sadness and Logan swiped a few fresh tears away with his thumb; Leo turned into the touch like a sunflower to the light. “Of all the people in the world, we’re the last ones to judge you for missing your best friend. We get it. C’est bon.”

Finn offered a small smile and tucked a golden curl behind his ear before tugging on Leo’s belt loop. “Let’s go home.”

Leo sniffled again, clearly having given up on any semblance of appearing okay and leaning into being miserable, and bumped his forehead with Finn’s. “Can we do the Finn O’Hara ‘I Want to Curl Up and Die’ method tonight?”

“We can do the Finn O’Hara ‘I Want to Curl Up and Die’ method,” Finn confirmed. “Ice cream, cuddles, and shitty reality TV is on the menu.”

“Can I have cookie dough?”

“Sure thing, sweetness.”

Leo looked back to the gate, where the plane was slowly beginning to taxi, and groaned before burying his face in Finn’s neck. “I want to curl up and die.”

“That’s why we have the method.“

Chapter 79: You Give Me Fever

Summary:

O'Knutzy's daughter gets sick

Chapter Text

Finn woke to lips on his cheekbone and a hand rubbing over his back; he made a quiet, questioning noise and got a gentle hush in return. “Fever?” he mumbled.

“Just over a hundred.” Logan’s accent was heavy and tired on his tongue.

“Knutty?”

“With her now. I came to check on you.”

“M’okay.”

“I know, mon rouge.” The kiss came again and he sat up, blinking blearily in the lamplight. Logan had perched himself on the edge of the bed, looking the same as he had when Finn took the first shift, all those hours ago. He let Logan take his hand and toy with his fingers while his brow furrowed in thought. “I think we should call Dumo.”

“Not the hospital?”

Logan shot him a wry glare. “Don’t tempt me, O’Hara.”

Finn yawned, then cracked a grin. “How long did it take Peanut to peel you off the ceiling?”

“Va te faire.”

“It’s a fever.” He tugged on Logan’s hand and opened his arm for a cuddle, which Logan went into willingly. He was warm, but not burning. Not like Grace’s forehead had been when they first picked her up not halfway through the school day, and not like it had remained throughout dinner and into the wee hours. Finn sighed. “Just a fever.”

“I still want to call Dumo.”

If it were anyone else in the world, Finn might have argued. But it was Logan, and it was Dumo, who would not hesitate to answer a late-night call from his adopted son. He gave Logan’s hip a little pat before releasing him and standing—his back popped in about four different places, and he had to shake his knee out as he padded down the hallway half-blind. His glasses were…somewhere. Probably in Grace’s room, but it was entirely possible he had put them in the fridge again on accident. Leo still hadn’t let him live down the ‘keys in the freezer’ incident and that was months ago.

Finn knocked lightly on the brightly-painted doorframe. “Come in,” a drowsy voice answered just above a whisper.

The small dolphin nightlight cast the whole room in a soft blue glow. The rocking chair creaked as Leo stood with a wince and a yawn, doing his level best not to jostle the lump of blanket in his arms. One sleepy, glassy eye peeked out at Finn and his heart folded like a cheap card table. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured. Her bangs were sweaty when he brushed them out of her eyes; her skin was far too warm when he kissed her forehead to check. “How are you feeling?”

Grace sniffled and buried her face in Leo’s shoulder. “Not good.”

“Did you sleep?”

“We caught a couple minutes.” Leo rested his head against Finn’s with a long sigh, nuzzling his cheek. “You?”

“Couple minutes.” After laying in bed for an hour feeling like the worst father in the world. Finn felt Logan’s hand on his waist a moment later and touched Grace gently on the elbow. “We were going to call Grandpa, okay? He might come over and check on you.”

A hum from Leo made both of them look up. “Already called Kasey ‘n Nat,” he murmured, eyes hooded. “They’re on the way. Was just about to head in and let you know.”

“Thanks, love,” Finn whispered with a kiss to his jaw that made Leo smile. He slid his hands under Grace’s arms and lifted her into his own, pulling the blanket back around her shoulders. Leo stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do, only conscious enough to stay upright—Finn gave his bicep a tug and tilted his head toward the door. “Go get some rest. Lo and I can wait up for Bliz.”

Leo shook his head. “Won’t be able to sleep.”

“Try for me, okay?” He mustered a reassuring smile and was grateful Leo didn’t have much fight in him, because he knew for a fact he would crumple under that bullheaded stubbornness when he had only been awake for a few minutes. Grace made a little snuffling noise as Leo and Logan disappeared into the hall—in an instant, every ounce of Finn’s attention was attuned to her. “Gracie?”

“Head hurts.” She twisted her hand in the front of his tshirt. “Daddy, I’m cold.”

Finn’s internal organs made a valiant effort to break right through his ribs and throw themselves at the feet of whatever god smited terrible, horrible, awful fathers who let their sick kids feel cold. Logically, he knew more blankets were a bad idea when Grace was already running too hot, but logic could go fuck itself. His baby was cold. End of story.

“Let’s go into the living room,” he managed. “Nice and warm there.”

“Is Grandpa coming?”

“Not right now, but Auntie Nat and Uncle Kasey are on their way. Are you hungry?”

A whine answered him and he closed his eyes, blowing out a slow breath. God, he knew kids got sick, all the parenting books had outlined the unavoidable petri dish of preschool, but that didn’t make it any easier. If he could swap their places then and there, he would.

It seemed Logan had convinced Leo to shuffle off to bed before moving to sit on the living room couch with his phone clutched in one hand and his eyes trained on the door like it was a stray puck. Finn settled Grace down between them and she curled into Logan’s side, pillowing her head on his thigh. His heart ached at the care with which Logan tucked her blanket back into its proper place. “Five minutes.”

“Kay.”

There was nothing else they could say. Nothing else that mattered. Five minutes felt like thirty seconds, felt like thirty years before headlight shone outside and the knock on the door finally came.

“There’s my baby girl,” Natalie cooed as she entered the house and set a small tote bag by the door, beelining for the couch with a quirked brow to Finn. He nodded, and she knelt by the edge of the couch to take one of Grace’s tiny hands between her own. “I heard somebody wasn’t feeling good. Did your daddy have too many cookies again?”

A giggle drew a soft puff of air from Logan. “No,” Grace said through her laughter. “It’s me.”

“It’s you?” Kasey eased himself onto the couch; Finn didn’t miss the nudge of their shoulders, nor the gentle squeeze to his arm before Kasey reached over and tapped Grace on the nose. “What happened?”

“My tummy and my head and my body hurts.”

Natalie glanced up. “What’s her temp?”

“100.5. Leo took it ten, fifteen minutes ago.” Logan sounded even more exhausted than before, though he perked up when Leo came through the doorway.

Finn smiled at Leo’s adorable attempt to appear awake. “Thought you went to bed, sunshine.”

“Heard people,” Leo mumbled. His hair was sticking up on one side in a cowlick, like he had passed out the moment he hit the bed and not twitched a muscle since. “Wanted to say hi. Thanks for coming, ‘s late.”

“Hey, you know we’ll come any t—” Kasey paused when Grace pulled on his sleeve. “Yes?”

“Where’s Uncle Alex?”

“At home, keeping an eye on our own sickies.”

Finn frowned and felt Logan go tense. “They’re sick?”

“Sniffles,” Kasey explained, not exactly unbothered but definitely nowhere near Logan’s earlier level of ‘oh my god the Rapture is here’. “Third grade’ll do that. Kids licking handrails left and right.”

“He did send you a present, though,” Natalie added with a twinkle in her eye. Grace lit up, leaning forward, and smiled when Nat kissed her forehead. “That one’s from him…” Another kiss, to the very tip of her nose. “And that’s from me. To make you feel all better.”

Logan reached out to touch her wrist when she sat back again. “Do we need to take her to the hospital?” he asked, hardly above a whisper so Grace wouldn’t hear.

Nat blinked, then stifled a snort, though her face was full of affection. “God, I love you, Tremblay. Unless her fever keeps climbing or she starts throwing up a lot, you’ll be fine letting her sleep it off. Looks like a stomach bug to me.”

“She’s so warm.” Finn knew he sounded rather pathetic and appreciated that nobody commented on it.

“That’s good. Means she’s fighting it off.” A muffled snore came from their left and Natalie bit back a smile; Finn couldn’t help the soft ‘oh’ that escaped him at the sight of Leo passed out cold on Kasey’s shoulder and covered his mouth with his hand as Logan let out a breath of laughter. Nat patted him on the knee a moment later. “O’Haras are such worrywarts. Take a breath, have some water, then put her back to bed. She’ll be okay in a day or two.”

Finn looked down at Grace, who had already fallen asleep again, then back up. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Natalie hesitated before pulling Grace’s blanket back down to cover her toes. “It helps to sleep in the same room as her for a bit, though. Might make you feel better.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They didn’t stay much longer after that—Finn took Leo’s dead weight while Logan gathered grace up and settled her against his chest, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads before disappearing back into the hall with soft footsteps. “Peanut?”

“Mmm.”

Finn could hear Logan rustling around in the other room and pulled himself upright. “Time for bed.”

“Stayin’ up with the baby.”

“Lo’s got her right now. Come to bed with me.”

It wouldn’t be right to call Leo’s eyes ‘half-lidded’ as they wandered to their bedroom. They were almost fully closed, and certainly sleepy enough that Finn began to question the likelihood of sleepwalking. It was a testament to both his exhaustion and his unfailing trust in Logan that Finn didn’t have to drag him past Grace’s bedroom and instead acted as a guide until they reached the bed, curling up around each other in a smooth curve. It didn’t matter that Grace was nearly five years old and had been sick before during her time with them. Finn had the feeling it wouldn’t matter if she was 15, or 19, or 35. The three of them would always worry, and he was grateful for every ounce of the love that made it possible.

Chapter 80: Fledgling

Summary:

Rookie Sirius and Dumo

**TW implied abuse

Chapter Text

“D’accord, I’m out,” Celeste sighed, stretching her arms over her head with a soft groan. It took a moment for her to stand; Pascal was halfway out of his seat before she waved him off, though her aching was clear from the crease of her brow. One hand rubbed her lower back. The other moved in a slow line down her belly, large enough now that she could have easily been hiding a watermelon and a half under her old shirt. She poked the bump gently. “Move, ma petite. Out. My feet can’t take much more of this and neither can my bladder.”

“She’s doing the best she can,” Pascal laughed quietly. Celeste quirked an eyebrow and he gathered her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her temple as his palms smoothed over her belly. He felt her laugh when his lips brushed her earlobe. “And so are you, ma cherie.”

Celeste hummed and he took some of her weight with a slow exhale. They stood in silence while the wall clock ticked, swaying like willow boughs. Pascal let his jaw relax and his chest cave against her back, his exhaustion too deep to let it linger anymore. The long nights of their early twenties seemed far away in the peace of their living room.

“I need to sleep.”

“Mm?”

“I need to sleep,” Celeste repeated, more for her own benefit than his if the whine in her voice was anything to go by. “I need to sleep on my stomach and I need a peanut butter and olive sandwich and I need…no more headaches. Ever. Headaches should be illegal.”

Pascal made a vague noise of agreement into her neck as wisps of thick, dark hair began to slip from her bun and tickle his nose. I could do this forever, he thought, shuffling closer. I get to do this forever. They had been married for nearly ten years; three children snoozed upstairs. He still felt as lovestruck and ridiculous as the first day they met, unable to take his eyes off her. He would find a way to obliterate headaches from the face of the earth if it made Celeste Augustin happy.

“It’s too quiet now.” Celeste’s voice edged on a whisper, moth’s wings in the dark.

“He’ll visit.”

“I miss having him here, Pascal.” Her next breath was heavy under his hands. “I worry about him all alone in that big house.”

You’re not alone in that. Moving out had been inevitable, but the house…that was a surprise. Not that Sirius would have bought himself an apartment, of course, but Pascal had at least assumed he would find something less empty. Less cold. Part of him wondered whether Sirius had ever known anything different.

Part of him doubted it.

“Go to bed,” he said around a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be up in un moment. Leave your worry for the morning.”

She stretched again as they parted and made her way to the stairs, casting one last kiss in his direction with heavy-lidded eyes. It was not even 10 o’clock. Pascal felt as if he could sleep for a hundred years.

The dishes took ten minutes.

The laundry took five.

Fixing the loose vent took a quarter hour and a blood sacrifice in the form of a paper cut, damned horrible thing.

The clock struck ten and he very nearly missed a faint knock at the door.

Pascal frowned, but stood all the same (with only a slight wince at his creaking knees). October in Gryffindor was not kind, and of the few reasons someone would visit so late, he wasn’t fond of any. Nothing good happened after nine in the evening.

The door opened with a gust of cold air. Speak of the devil, Pascal’s brain blurted, though he kept his lips sealed and attempted to keep his gaping surprise to a minimum. “Bonjour,” Sirius began. “Can—can I stay the night?”

“Missed us already?” he chuckled. Oh, Celeste was going to be so excited in the morning. “What’s one more kid to put to bed, eh? We’ll get an air mattress out, you and the boys can have a sleep—"

“Pascal.” Sirius was perfectly calm. “Can I stay the night?”

Oh, no. The autumn chill became very, very cold, very, very quick. All humor was sucked dry from the air, leaving him chapped and abruptly aware that absolutely nothing in this scenario could possibly be funny. Sirius’ knuckles, white where they clutched his half-zipped duffel. A toque jammed backwards over dark hair. Sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt beneath his winter coat, a shoelace hanging onto its bow by hope and a prayer. Pascal looked back to Sirius’ face and found himself eye-to-eye with some frightened, fragile thing instead of the boy he had helped coax from his shell.

“Come inside,” he said. “It’s too cold to stand on the porch.”

Relief so complete it ached flickered over Sirius’ expression and echoed in his entire body as he stepped—fell—over the threshold. Pascal took his duffel and did his best not to flinch at the tremor of such steady hands.

“We were talking about you earlier,” he noted, shepherding Sirius through the foyer and into the kitchen. The door closed, locked, and Sirius’ shoulders relaxed by several degrees. “Celeste and I. We were playing the Scrabble you gave us for her birthday. This house gets too quiet, you know? Only three kids to keep us busy, though that is getting more likely to change every day.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise, moving like a puppet to his usual seat at the table.

“She asked for a peanut butter and olive sandwich before bed. It’s funny, how I’ve grown used to the cravings.” Steady chatter, remain calm. “I suppose I can’t judge. My lunch today was toast and a slice of ham. Straight from the package, too. I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re not.”

Pascal had to take a moment to collect himself at the hollowness of Sirius’ voice. Empty and bled dry, just like the rest of him. The winter coat drowned his body. The toque hid his eyes. “That’s very kind,” Pascal managed after a heartbeat’s pause. “Tea? Coffee? Cocoa?”

The milk was already heating when Sirius answered. He was glad to have guessed correctly. Sirius needed comfort as soon as physically possible and he doubted a hug would be the right way to start.

“At this point, Adele doesn’t think babies are interesting anymore. But Louis can’t wait for a little sister, and Marc wants a new playmate, so it’s a fair trade. The baby will keep them out of her hair. And of course you’re invited to come meet the baby before the rest of the team. God knows you’ve done enough for us during the last few months to more than deserve it. I don’t know how we would have survived without you, mon fils.”

Oh, god, Sirius, what did they do this time? Pascal smoothed a hand over the top of his head and left a kiss by the red and gold pompom as a tear dripped down next to the fresh cup of cocoa.

“But really, Celeste wanted the baby out last week. The doctors told us it would be quicker this time—total bullshit, by the way—and I’m starting to think it’s going to come while I’m in the middle of a game—oh, d’accord, c’est bon.”

“ ‘m sorry,” Sirius choked out, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I never should have come here.”

His pulse was fast under Pascal’s fingers as he pried Sirius’ hands away from his face and held them in his own instead; the tile floor made his knees burn, but it didn’t hurt even half as bad as looking up at Sirius’ expression while he tried to force down the heaving sobs. “No, no, no,” Pascal soothed, switching to French. “Remember what I told you? This is always your home when you need it, Sirius. No questions. No apologies.”

“I can’t be here.” Panic had returned, shuddering through him in waves. His face crumpled and more tears slipped down his reddened cheeks.

“Yes, you can—”

“You don’t understand.” It ripped from him and Pascal swallowed down his assurance. Sirius shook his head and clutched at Pascal’s wrists, damn near frantic. “He’s—he’s gonna know I left and he’ll find my car and he’ll wake the kids and you’re all going to be in trouble and it’s all my fault.”

“Sirius.” The back of his neck burned against Pascal’s palm. Sirius’ chest rose and fell too fast, too shallow. Fuck. “Sirius, look at me.”

The next breath was a wheeze. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t fucking breathe—”

“Look at me,” he repeated, giving Sirius’ nape a light squeeze. He had begun rocking slightly in his chair, rapid back-and-forths while his free hand clenched and unclenched around nothing. “All I need you to do is look at me.”

Sirius’ silver-blue eyes were even more startling when they were rimmed in red and polished bright from fresh tears that hitched in his throat like he was choking on them. “Why can’t you just—just turn me away?”

No.” It came out firmer than he intended; Sirius flinched. “I will never turn you away when you need help,” Pascal continued, gentling his tone. His thumb moved in careful circles over the wire-tight muscle of Sirius’ neck and he felt him push back into it, petrified eyes slipping closed. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

The first attempt failed, as did the second, but Sirius managed a sort of inhale on the third and the fourth sounded closer to normal than anything else all night. Pascal breathed with him, keeping the rhythm even when the sobbing returned for a terrible half-minute and Sirius curled into him like a child, oversized limbs and all. He could pretend to be coordinated all he liked, but Dumo had seen firsthand how out-of-control Sirius felt when he didn’t keep himself under careful watch.

The house breathed deep with them. In and out, he counted. In…and out. Eleven o’clock came and went.

“Are you feeling better?”

Sirius sniffled. “My back hurts.”

“Mine, too.” The huff of a laugh was more than Pascal could have hoped for. “Up, mon fils, your room is waiting.”

Sirius’ hold on his shirt tightened when he moved to stand. “Are your front curtains closed?” he whispered, barely audible.

“Ouais.” The death grip loosened. They rose together. A single mug and pot could wait until morning to be washed.

“I should be grateful for the warning,” Sirius said from his blanket bundle just before Pascal turned out the light. He felt his heart slide down to the floor in a lukewarm ooze. Here it is. “At least this time I got one.”

The mattress creaked when Pascal sat and Sirius tucked his feet up to make room. He looked exactly his age in that bed—a tired 19-year-old who sleep evaded and memories haunted. Fear was not kind to Sirius. Pascal had come to learn over the past 18 months that it was not the only thing.

“Why can’t they leave me alone?” It sounded more like a confession than a question; Pascal placed a careful hand on his ankle. “She threatens it every other week. She’s been calling every day, Dumo.”

“We’ll talk to Coach tomorrow.”

Sirius shook his head miserably. “That never works.”

How have so many people failed you? “This will be different.”

Sirius’ gaze was distant as he stared at the far wall, covers tucked up to his chin. After a long moment of quiet, he glanced over. “They don’t know where you live, do they?”

“No. Nobody will hurt you here, Sirius. Did…” Pascal took a breath. Braced himself for the answer. “Is your house not safe?”

“He said he’d be there by eleven.”

“Then you can stay as long as you need.” If Orion Black steps foot on this property, he’s never stepping off it. Pascal did not consider himself a violent person by any metric, but an exception would be made if that man came anywhere near his wife and his children, biological or acquired. “Sirius.” Heavy eyes met his own. “You can stay as long as you need to. Celeste and I won’t let anything happen.”

“Do you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” Sirius remained still and quiet when Pascal stood and bent to brush the front of his inky hair back. It was habit, a bedtime superstition he had missed in the months Sirius had been gone. He offered a half-smile in the dim light. “We’ll speak with Coach tomorrow afternoon. For now, sleep.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Chapter 81: Babysitter

Summary:

Reg watching Sirius when his ribs are broken

Chapter Text

Sirius winced when he shifted, tucking the blanket a little tighter around himself. He was steady against the pillows; his gaze stayed focused on the window, eyes big and sad whenever a passerby continued down the sidewalk instead of turning in. But his breaths were even and the initial pain with each inhale appeared to have abated, which counted for something.

Honestly, it was like Regulus had been asked to pet-sit.

“When will my husband return from the war?” he said with a wheezing accent as he shoved a plate into Sirius’ hands.

Sirius turned away from the window to scowl. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re two steps away from knitting a fucking doily. It’s pathetic. Eat and I’ll get your medicine.”

“When I offered to let you live here, I thought you might be a little nicer to me,” Sirius grumbled, picking at the edge of a lettuce leaf where it stuck out from the bread.

Regulus rolled his eyes. Ungrateful. “If you’re not going to even try the meal I slaved over—”

“You were gone for ten minutes!”

“—you can make your own lunch next time.”

Sirius took a pointed bite of the sandwich and jammed Regulus in the thigh with his blanket-covered knee; he didn’t miss the way Sirius’ brows creased at the sharp movement and swallowed down his retaliation. “Merci,” Sirius said around a mouthful of bread.

“It’s edible?”

Sirius tipped his head from side-to-side and Regulus couldn’t help but punch him lightly on the thigh—hey, he wasn’t broken there—but was glad to see it only got him a laugh. “It’s good. I’ll stop bothering you now.”

“I’ll bring your meds in dix minutes.”

It was a funny thing, this new world. Regulus woke up when he wanted (he had worked his way all the way to 9 am over the course of several weeks), ate when he wanted (though he would never pass up Remus’ cooking), went to bed when he wanted (later than he had ever been allowed). He did what he wanted. For the very first time, his life was completely unscheduled. It was horrendous.

18 years of strict time management with every minute accounted for had been truly suffocating when he was living through it, but the sudden shock of having days upon days of no structure was like someone had taken their hands off his neck and shoved a leafblower down his throat instead. It was too much after too little—freedom felt like a whole new kind of trap. And in a city he didn’t know, surrounded by people he didn’t want to know…

Well, being tasked to care for Sirius despite his awkward, unsure, bitchy attitude was a strange sort of gift.

Regulus made a face as he headed back to the kitchen. His internal monologue was starting to sound far too sappy. So what if Sirius’ awkwardness around him was a little endearing? And so what if seeing him relaxed and comfortable even with four broken ribs was a relief Regulus had never imagined? That didn’t mean he had to like him. He could love his brother and mock him relentlessly for having zero social skills at the same time.

(Perhaps, secretly, he could like him a little. When Sirius saved him a plate of breakfast or got him a bus pass or ruffled up his hair the way not a single living soul had done in six years, perhaps Regulus could be a little bit grateful for him.)

Remus, too, was an interesting case. Obviously whipped for Sirius—Regulus had been suspicious of him until he saw that clear devotion—and weirdly normal. He looked and acted like someone Sirius had found browsing Home Depot instead of the second actor in a dramatic love story. He didn’t seem to mind Regulus’ constant lurking, either, which set him apart from ninety percent of his ex-teammates’ partners.

Don’t you have other things to be doing?

Why are you here?

How old are you, kid?

What are you, their mascot?

Babe, I didn’t want to spend time with your…friends.

Remus said “good morning” and “goodnight” and always made extra food for Regulus without being asked. He had assumed Sirius would go for someone quiet and, well, serious, but Remus was downright perky in comparison to the few short-lived girlfriends Sirius had during their school years. Christ, it was like the guy wanted Regulus to like him or something.

People didn’t like Regulus. They tolerated him. They kept him around because he was useful.

Sirius and Remus had never once asked him to be useful.

“Blanc ou bleu?” he called. Quebec French felt so right in his mouth after months of forced English.

“Quoi?”

“White or—”

“Fuck you, Reg.”

He grinned to himself at the resignation in Sirius’ voice and padded back into the living room with the pill bottles in-hand, then rattled them to get his attention. “Blanc ou bleu?”

“Blue right now, white in…” Sirius twisted to squint at his phone and froze halfway through with a grimace, the corners of his eyes pinching.

Regulus watched as he took two careful breaths. “It’s 1:30,” he said quietly.

“White in 90 minutes.” His voice was tight; Sirius carefully eased himself back onto the pillows and closed his eyes, chest moving steadily beneath the thick bandages. Regulus set the glass of water down next to him and pressed one small blue pill into his palm. “Thanks.”

“I’ll get some ice.” Ice, a cure-all for them both.

But Sirius shook his head. “C’est bon, just needed a second.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Remus had given him a tour of the first-aid cabinet with a wry grin that poorly hid his worry before leaving for work that first day. Regulus was sure he would not have been Sirius’ first choice of a babysitter, but he had promised to do his best. Somehow, Remus seemed to believe him.

“Go do your thing,” Sirius said with half a smile and a tilt of his head toward the hall. “I’m fine here.”

He thought of his video game, probably still paused where he had left it to go make lunch. The stack of books on his dresser, the bus pass in his wallet, and gorgeous sunlight outside. “Move.”

Sirius gave him a look.

Move,” Regulus repeated, shoving at his abnormally long legs until there was enough space to settle in and grab the remote control. “Stop being a blanket hog. How do you turn on your television?”


Sirius napped through the last three-quarters of the movie, unfortunately. Regulus knew he was supposed to rest, but he didn’t know how Remus put up with the snoring and the kicking and the twitching. The poor man deserved a gift basket.

Regulus woke him to take his medicine at 3 pm on the dot, and if he tucked the blanket tighter around Sirius’ shoulders when he started to doze off again, that was nobody’s goddamn business.

He kept an ear out while Sirius slept, puttering around the house like some sort of ghost. There was some clean laundry in the dryer—he still wasn’t sure how the machines worked, but he figured he couldn’t be too bad at folding the clothes that were already done. And dishes were easy, just a couple of things from breakfast and lunch. The flowers Pots’ baby had ‘helped’ pick 10 days before were pretty much dust, so those went into the green bin under the sink…while he was up, it wasn’t a big hassle to shuffle the shoes in the closet into their proper places.

Remus came home at 4:15, just as Regulus was unloading the dishwasher. His greeting stuck in his throat when he came into the kitchen, and his brows rose. “Woah.”

Regulus frowned. “What?”

“The house looks really nice,” Remus said, turning in a half-circle to take it in. He nodded slightly to himself. “Really, really nice. Did you—you did this?”

“I got bored. The closet was a mess, by the way.” Satisfaction bloomed in Regulus’ chest at the awed look on Remus’ face and he fought to keep his expression under control. It wouldn’t be polite to let him expect that kind of cleaning on a regular basis. “Oh, and Sirius is asleep.”

Remus’ surprise softened, and he glanced back toward the living room. “Oh, good. He was up a lot last night.”

“He snored through our movie.” Remus shook his head, smiling, as Regulus put the last glass into the cupboard. “I’m serious, it was terrible. He should get that checked.”

“Hey, I’ve done my best to convince him. How long has he been out?”

“Off and on since 2.” Regulus watched with narrowed eyes as Remus removed his jacket, scarf, and shoes, then relaxed when they were set into their proper places. So the previous state of the closet was Sirius’ fault, then. Good to know. Another bonus point for Remus.

“Did he take his meds? He was due at—”

“3, I know. I woke him.”

“You’ve got this thing down pat, huh?” Remus laughed. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“He’s like a bear when his naps are interrupted,” Regulus continued. Accepting any kind of thanks was still uncomfortable, so it was best to just ignore it for now. “Did you know that? I thought I was going to get mauled. You should run while you still can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Remus’ easy smile told him the warning went unheeded, though Regulus couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed. His freckled face brightened when something rustled in the hall. “Mornin’, baby. Good nap?”

Sirius mumbled something unintelligible and absorbed Remus into his blanket for a hug with a quiet sigh. Regulus let them have 15 whole seconds of public cuddling. “Congratulations,” he said dryly. “You can stop pining at the window now.”

Pining?” Remus teased at the same time Sirius made a grumpier noise in his general direction.

“It was pathetic,” Regulus confirmed. He worked the next words around in his mouth before speaking. “It’s good to have you back.”

Remus didn’t say anything, but his expression told Regulus everything he needed to know. You, too. It hung silently between them; he gave one last nod before heading back to the basement.

Chapter 82: Backslide

Summary:

Remus gets hurt on the ice

**TW medical trauma, ptsd (panic/ dissociation response), dislocation

Chapter Text

Time stood still. It was a cheesy, cliché thought—Sirius knew that much. But time stood still, and lots of people were moving erratically, and he had the sudden realization he couldn’t feel his toes in his skates anymore. He knew he should move. He knew he needed to move. He knew he could feel every vein and artery in his body seizing, every muscle fossilizing.

“—fucking Christ—”

“I’m gonna—”

“—god, look—”

“—happening? What’s happ—”

“Stay there!” Sirius flinched at the sharp order from James’ mouth, somewhere on the other side of the bench. Medics were gathering like clotted blood on a wound; he could only see black skates, the red accents stark against the ice while their owner thrashed once, twice, and went still again.

His tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. He managed one step. James’ hand settled on his chest, but he pushed right past it without breaking stride. The crowd was deafening in its silence. He could see Remus’ legs now, one bent and tipping to the side. The medics shuttered his body and face from view, but Sirius was six-foot-six in his skates. That wouldn’t be a problem.

“—touch me!” The sudden burst of noise amongst a sea of muttering voices made him blink in surprise. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

Remus wasn’t supposed to sound like that. He wasn’t supposed to look like that when Sirius came closer, tense and laid out and failing every time his muscles tried to contort in agony, ghost-white save for the blotchy red on his cheeks. His right hand gripped the wrist of a medic so tight it trembled. “Mr. Lupin,” Emmeline cut in. “Remus, let go.”

“Keep your hands off,” he said through clenched teeth.

Sirius took a knee, shouldering between two of the medics despite their protests. Even a meter away, he could see how far Remus’ pupils had dilated. “Loops,” he began. The few people that tried to pull him away would have had better luck moving a boulder barehanded. Sirius found Remus’ terrified eyes against the too-bright glare of the rink and his throat tightened, suffocating any words.

The unadulterated panic faded somewhat—Remus’ lower lip trembled, a single tear rolling down the slope of his nose as he held Sirius’ gaze. “Sirius.” He sucked in a half-breath and hitched with the strain. “Sirius, don’t fucking touch me.”

“I won’t.”

Remus visibly relaxed when he held both hands up, only for his entire face to screw up in pain at the movement. A groan siphoned through his ticking jaw, strangled and barely contained.

“Mr. Lupin, you need to let us get you on a stretcher,” Emmeline said firmly, as if they had had this conversation before. “We have to get you off the ice.”

“Can’t move.”

“We’ll help—”

“Gonna tear it apart.” Remus’ eyes unfocused, and Sirius quite literally watched the blood drain from his face as his hand slipped off the other medic’s wrist and hit the ice with a dull sound. His mouth refused to offer the comfort rattling through his mind. “Don’t understand, I have pins there, gonna tear the muscle.”

Emmeline’s lips pressed into a thin, pale line. “Fuck,” she muttered, tucking Remus’ forearms against his chest; this time, he didn’t so much as twitch. She grabbed the walkie-talkie off her belt, moving to a crouch. “Get him on the stretcher. Hi, this is Emmeline Vance, I have a player with a partially dislocated shoulder who is going into psychological shock. We’re 60 seconds from the ambulance.”

By the time Sirius was able to force some air into his lungs, everyone else was already in motion, and he was being pushed aside. “I can’t do it.” Remus’ voice was too strained, too high. His gaze darted randomly from Sirius to the rink and back again. “Can’t do it again, I can’t do this.”

“Just keep breathing, Remus,” Emmeline said. “That’s all I need from you.”

“I can…” Sirius faltered as they shuffled Remus onto the stretcher. He had gone from white to gray in a matter of moments. His left arm looked wrong where it laid limp against him. “I can help?”

“Go back to the bench, captain,” an unfamiliar medic said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your coach will pass along the hospital address.”

Sirius shook his head. It was too hard to swallow. “No.”

“Sir—”

“He’s my husband.”

“I understand, but the ambulance is already—”

“That’s my husband.” Control. Calm. Steady. Remus’ voice never shook when he asked for things, never raised by a single decibel. Sirius took a breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. “My husband is on that stretcher. I need to be with him right now.”

“That’s not a matter to discuss with me.” The medic stood and helped him to his feet with a kind smile. “Talk to your coach. We’ll take good care of Mr. Lupin.”

No, you won’t. He knew he should trust them—it was their job. It was what Remus had done for years, and Remus had never failed them. But Sirius couldn’t help the knee-jerk protest that tried to claw its way out into the cold air where the voices of the crowd were starting to rise. It was Remus’ job to heal. It was his job to play. These people…he didn’t know these people. More importantly, they didn’t know Remus. They didn’t know that he couldn’t be touched after a nightmare and they didn’t know how good he was at hiding pain in smiles and they didn’t know he could only be lulled back into rest with a kiss, a snuggle, some tea.

But Remus was already gone, and Sirius belonged on the bench.


“I’m here for Remus Lupin.”

“Relation?”

“Husband. How is he?”

“Asleep, as of…five minutes ago.”

“And his shoulder?”

“I’m afraid I can’t share personal medical information, sir.”

Sirius hoped the nurse couldn’t hear his pulse hammering across the desk. “Alright. Where’s his room?”

“He’s in 430. The elevator is on your left.”

“Merci beaucoup.” God bless Celeste for teaching him proper manners, because an ‘afterthought’ wasn’t even the right word for how little he cared about thanking people at the moment. Remus liked to tease him for his ‘lack of tact’, whatever that was supposed to mean. Bluntness had always worked fine in the past, even if it meant people liked his husband more than him. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault he had grown used to using his captain voice in daily life.

The elevator lurched to life after a few impatient clicks of the button; it stopped once, on the second floor, and Sirius tried not to scowl too hard at the perfectly nice couple that decided to wait for the next one. His legs stopped working when the elevator doors opened.

A cheerful golden ‘4’ shone on the opposite wall—he forced himself forward, only to stop again as the doors closed behind him. The floor was as busy as any hospital he had visited, full of families and bustling staff in equal shares. The nearest door read ‘403’.

Sirius started walking.

The linoleum squeaked under his sneakers with each measured step, background music for his racing thoughts. Would Remus still be asleep? Was his injury worse than they thought? Sirius hadn’t been able to leave early—hadn’t wanted to, not when they couldn’t promise he would be able to see Remus right away—and he didn’t have the first clue what made psychological shock different than regular shock. He had seen enough shitty medical dramas on Saturday nights to know people died from it. Suddenly, Remus’ penchant for pointing out their inaccuracies like it was a game show wasn’t so funny.

430.

He peeked through the little window with one hand on the doorknob and felt his heart stutter, a breath rushing free. Remus was still asleep, just as the nurse had promised. The bed was propped up; his left arm rested in a sling. Someone had tucked the crisp white blankets around his waist. Sirius opened the door and crept in, closing it quietly behind him before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Remus’ breaths came in the same slow, even pattern he knew like his own pulse, so vastly different than the shallow things that had wracked him four hours prior. He looked better than Sirius had left him: there was healthy color in his cheeks and no tension sending agony though his body. He traced the places pain used to pinch with a gentle hand.

Beneath his touch, Remus stirred. He blinked a few times, bleary and befuddled, before his expression relaxed into a small smile and his cheek pressed into Sirius’ palm. “How long’ve you been there?”

“About five minutes,” Sirius murmured. They had the room to themselves, but it didn’t feel right to speak louder. He scratched along the shorter hair over Remus’ ear and felt him hum. “Feeling better?”

Remus nodded, keeping his eyes closed. “Got the good stuff.”

“Sleepy?”

“Mhmm. Love how you talk.”

“Me?” he laughed.

“It’s always you.”

Sirius stroked beneath Remus’ eye with the pad of his thumb. His skin was impossibly soft and delicate for someone so unbreakable. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before.”

“Didn’t miss anything big.”

“Still.” He swallowed as the lump from earlier tried to surge back to life in his throat. “Still, I want to be here for you. It’s my job to take care of you, now.”

“How the turntables,” Remus muttered, drawing a laugh from both of them.

With a long exhale, he let his head rest back against the crinkly pillow, and Sirius went willingly when Remus opened an arm for him to cuddle under. The hospital gown was rough when he smoothed a hand over Remus’ chest, tracing the bandages beneath. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” Sirius asked, giving the lowest ridge a small tug.

Remus cracked an eye open and followed his movement. “Oh, it’s just some extra support. Goes up an’ around.”

“No broken ribs?”

“I can’t be stealing your brand that quick.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Sirius protested despite Remus’ quiet snickering. “It’s not funny, Re.”

“ ‘m sorry.” He took a couple deep breaths, then turned to Sirius with a bitten-back smile. “It’s a little funny.”

No.”

His face softened, and with a little bit of wiggling he pulled his arm free from under Sirius’ body and placed his fingertips over his cheekbone like a pianist preparing to play. A delicate touch as always; sometimes, Sirius wondered whether Remus thought he was made of glass. Nobody had treated him that carefully before. It wasn’t a bad thought at all. Remus kept them there for a long moment, watching with half-lidded eyes. His whole body radiated exhaustion. “Today was a bad day,” he finally said. The corner of his mouth tilted up softly. “You’re so handsome.”

“Are you feeling better?”

This time, Remus paused before answering. He paused, and he sighed, and he curled into Sirius’ chest until Sirius draped an arm over his stomach and laced their fingers together. “I dunno,” he whispered. “It was—bad. They put me under to relocate it, ‘cause I couldn’t calm down. They told me I went into shock, but I don’t remember that part. I still feel like shit.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t.” But I hate that you do. Sirius closed the inch between them and kissed Remus’ cheek, letting his lips linger on salty skin. Remus had been crying a little when they took him away. He didn’t want to know if it kept happening while he was sitting on a stainless steel bench outlining plays for other people to run.

“It was only a partial dislocation,” Remus noted after a few moments of quiet. Something in his gaze was still a little vacant. “So, y’know. There’s that. The pins work after all.”

Sirius gathered him closer, slipping one arm under Remus’ upper back so he could rest his head on Sirius’ chest. Their ankles tangled under the papery sheets, legs in a cat’s cradle. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said into mussed curls. A tremor went through Remus, and he heard him sniffle.

“Fuck, sorry,” Remus choked out, going to pinch the bridge of his nose only to muffle a groan when the sling refused to let his arm move that far. Sirius guided his hand back down and wiped the few stray tears away with his thumb—his other hand splayed over Remus’ lower back, just holding. He could be an anchor right now.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured.

“I really couldn’t do it again, Sirius.” His voice was thick. Haunted. “I couldn’t. It almost killed me before, I swear to god.”

The air punched from Sirius’ lungs. He knew, he did, they had both struggled, but—“Don’t, loup. Don’t put yourself in that place right now.”

“I felt it give,” he said brokenly. “After everything I did, it just went and people were all over me.”

There was nothing good enough to say. Sirius didn’t truly understand, he never could. He had accepted that a long time ago in the same way Remus had to accept that he would never understand why Sirius was equally happy and grieving every time they spent time with the Lupins. And while he knew how to bring Remus down from the paralyzing fear that came with whatever trauma Fenrir Greyback had wrought, the rest of the world was still in the dark. There was no possible way to lead emergency medics through it without exposing everything.

So he let his fingers curl around the bandages stabilizing Remus’ shoulder and kept him close, pressing his forehead to a warm temple and holding his hand while Remus’ teeth chattered with the force of whatever needed to be let out. “Mon amour,” he said, lips brushing the peak of Remus’ cheekbone. “Mon coeur, mon loup, mon chou.”

“It was like I wasn’t even there anymore.”

“Je sais.” That much, Sirius could understand.

“My body was there but the rest of me…and it was taken.”

“It was.”

“The pins—it would have gone all the way without them.”

“And it will be better now.”

Remus sniffed, his face pressed so tight to Sirius’ chest that he could feel the damp spot forming on his shirt. “Do you promise?” he asked at last.

It was a ridiculous thing to promise a professional hockey player who regularly got body-slammed and entirely out of Sirius’ control. “Yes.”

Remus shivered, pulling his legs up tighter to Sirius’ thighs. “For real?”

There were tears in his voice again, but Sirius would rather they stain his shirt than the fabric of a stretcher or some plain hospital pillow. He would sign the discharge paperwork when Remus was good and ready to move, and not a second before. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Okay.” A shaky breath was cold on his torso. “Okay. Christ, I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

Sirius rubbed his back for another minute, pressing the occasional kiss to his hair or the side of his face. He managed a glance at his watch for the first time since arriving and was a little surprised to see the late hour blinking back at him. “Do you want to nap here, or should we go home?” he asked quietly.

But Remus was already asleep, clutching him just as close as waking hours.

Chapter 83: Safe and Warm

Summary:

Sirius is frustrated by his broken ribs; small Coops argument

Chapter Text

Harry yawned, wide and squeaky, with his little wrinkled face all squished up beneath a small red cap. All four adults cooed at the sound; he smacked his lips before blinking his eyes open slowly to stare at them with equal amounts of sleepiness and curiosity. “Come sit,” Sirius said, shifting to make room for Lily on the couch. Remus watched his gaze remain on the baby while Lily curled as close as she could to Sirius’ side; she tilted the swaddle up so he could see better. Beneath Remus’ hand, Sirius’ ribs compressed in a gentle sigh. In his armchair, James had never looked prouder.

“Do you wanna say hi to Uncle Pads, peaches?” Lily asked Harry with a light tickle to his chin. She received a near-silent burble in response, and Remus’ heart swelled as he rested his chin on Sirius’ shoulder. “I bet you do, huh? He’s pretty cool.”

“Bonjour, mon petit,” Sirius murmured, running his thumb over Harry’s cheek. Lily knocked their foreheads together and Sirius grinned at her. “Can I hold him?”

The overflowing amount of love that had built up in Remus’ chest at their perfect little moment deflated slightly and he rubbed Sirius’ hip, just below his bandages. “Ribs, baby,” he reminded him quietly. He didn’t have to see Sirius’ face to feel his disappointment.

Lily glanced over, resettling Harry against her chest. “Maybe just once?” she suggested, though the plea in her voice was audible. “Come on, Re, five minutes won’t hurt.”

Remus swallowed hard. The last time Sirius had risked holding something heavier than five pounds, he had been throbbing with pain and swollen for days. Neither of them wanted a repeat performance.

Harry opened his mouth in a toothless smile and wiggled as Sirius took one small fist and waved it around. Damn you, adorable baby, Remus thought as his resolve crumbled in an instant. “Do you think you can do it?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the soft bit of skin below Sirius’ ear. A beat of hesitation passed before Sirius nodded. “Then I won’t stop you.”

His instincts prickled in the back of his mind as Sirius rearranged his arms with a stifled wince, but he bit his tongue. He leaned over to take the baby and the discomfort on his face was visible—Remus nearly told him to stop then and there until Sirius’ jaw tightened and he settled Harry in the crook of his elbow. “There,” he said, though he was a bit breathless. Lily furrowed her eyebrows in clear concern. “Totally fine, see?”

“Pads…” James began.

Sirius paid him no mind, his attention already laser-focused on Harry’s blanket edges. Remus didn’t miss the lines of tension on his face and shoulders, and by the look on Lily’s face, she didn’t either. Her hand was gentle on his arm. “Sirius, if he’s too heavy—”

“He’s fine,” Sirius interrupted. “I’m fine. More than fine, I get to hold my godson.”

The corner of her mouth turned down to match the shattering of Remus’ heart. “Please don’t push yourself while you’re still healing. None of us are going anywhere.”

“I’m fine,” Sirius insisted, casting a cursory glance at the three of them. “I can bench over 200 pounds, he’s une plume—”

“When your ribs aren’t broken,” Remus corrected. Sirius fell silent; the edge of his jaw ticked. “You can bench 200 when your ribs aren’t broken. We just don’t want to see you hurting any more than you have to.”

“It’s worth it,” Sirius said under his breath. Lily’s whole face crumpled, and immediate regret shadowed his stubbornness. “No, I didn’t—I meant that five minutes won’t be a big deal. He’s not going to be tiny forever. I’m his godfather. He needs to know me.”

“He knows you,” James assured him in a quiet voice as he ran a hand under his glasses. Remus didn’t envy his exhaustion. “Pads, it’s just a few more weeks. If you’re hurting, don’t hold the baby. The team needs you to heal fast.”

He needs you to heal fast,” Lily added, adjusting Harry’s cap so it fit over his ears. Low blow, Evans, Remus thought, impressed. Right for the heart. A timer went off on her phone and she offered Sirius an apologetic smile. “Food time for the bundle.”

Sirius clenched his teeth as he helped get Harry back in her arms, letting out a small puff of air as he sat back; the lamps of the living room were dim, but Remus still saw the shine in his eyes. “You okay?” he murmured, rubbing a palm over Sirius’ thigh. All he got in response was a nod—James cast them a worried look.

Harry and Lily returned for the last half hour of their visit, but every time Sirius went to suggest a cuddle, Lily guided the conversation away. Remus could hardly look at him.

Sirius was quiet on the way home, too, all the way into bed. “Only one more week of pillows,” Remus said when they had settled in, offering an encouraging smile over the cushy barrier between them.

“He’s my godson,” Sirius said curtly. His gaze remained stubbornly on the ceiling. Remus felt his smile slip and reached over the pillows for a hand to hold, but none met him in the middle.

“Baby, I know you’re disappointed, but it’s just a couple more weeks.”

No response.

“We’ll see them tomorrow, remember?” he tried. “And Lily said you can give him a bottle and everything.”

Silent treatment. Real mature. Remus pressed his lips together and curled up on his side, his knees brushing the pillows that kept Sirius from moving too much. It had already been two and a half weeks since that horrible, awful night that ended with the best kind of joy they could ask for. They got the call just past 3 in the morning—Sirius had fought his pain meds tooth and nail to stay awake, then immediately passed out on Remus’ shoulder the moment James and Lily hung up. Remus hadn’t been able to sleep. His mind whirled with images of Fenrir’s sneering face and venomous words, of Lily’s terrified voice crackling over the phone. Of Sirius twitching on the ice, unable to stand. Of baby Harry’s unbelievably tiny nose and wrinkled hands curling in Lily’s hair. His body didn’t feel big enough to hold all the feelings bubbling up.

Honestly, he was just grateful they were allowed to see the baby at all. Other than Mr. and Mrs. Potter, everyone else had to wait until Harry’s first checkup to give him a proper team welcome. Minus the keg, of course.

Sirius’ breathing slowed after a minute, marking his slide into sleep. Remus sighed through his nose and watched the headlights pass outside, mere pinpricks behind the curtains. Maybe he was being too harsh, telling Sirius not to hold Harry. He was his godfather, after all. God knew he took the job seriously. Maybe it was selfish of Remus to withhold that from him just to avoid a little pain.

But it wasn’t just a little pain, was the thing. Remus rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes as he bit back a groan of frustration. They were so fucking close to the Cup and if Sirius missed that…if Sirius missed the Cup, he would be inconsolable. He’d never forgive himself. Crimes might be committed. No amount of baby cuddles would fix that, no matter what Sirius was telling himself.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Remus murmured to himself. Sirius showed no sign of waking and he closed his eyes. Stick to your guns. For his sake.


“Oh, hey, I got that,” Remus protested, swiping the backpack from Sirius’ hand when he went to pick it up off the chair. Sirius made an exasperated noise that he soothed with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That shirt looks cute on you.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I can carry a backpack.”

“Backpack? What backpack?” Remus grinned at his eye roll and slung the bag over his shoulder, then hustled to open the door. “Don’t worry, you still get to drive.”


“Let me help.”

“With a pot?” Remus raised a playful brow and nudged Sirius with his hip. “Easiest thing in the world. Scoot, I need to drain these.”

“It is the easiest thing in the world,” Sirius agreed, though he was kind enough to shuffle out of the way and let Remus through. Hands settled on his hips, fingers hooking into his belt loops. Sirius’ chin came to rest on his shoulder, his breath warm on Remus’ neck. “Which is why you should let me do it.”

Steam billowed up in the sink; once he was sure all boiling water had vacated the premises, he leaned back and nuzzled Sirius’ cheekbone. “Heal up quick for me and you can drain all the pasta your heart desires.”


It was getting harder and harder to pull Sirius out of the stormcloud brewing over him. Remus knew himself, knew he could get a little overbearing when it came to fixing things—looking back on group projects still made him cringe—but he was better, now. He knew when to buckle down and when to slam the SOS button.

Message to: Not the Captain

Is anyone free Friday night for a nonalcoholic rager

The answer was immediate.

Message from: Not the Captain

Yes

Yes

Yes

Always

Me

No alcohol? : (

Ohmygod Loops are you pregnant

 

Message to: Not the Captain

Yes and I’m telling you over text

Obviously no. Cap can’t have alcohol w/ his meds

 

Message from: Not the Captain

Does that mean *I* can still have alcohol

Wow that sounded so formal: IS BOOZE ALLOWED ON THE PREMISES

When you say he can’t have alcohol does that mean he’ll die or does it mean he gets drunk faster than usual

Oooo v important question thank u bliz

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Remus muttered.

Message to: Not the Captain

I’m not going to tell you not to drink anything, but it’s BYOB

Also if you give the invalid any alcohol I will personally shove a shot glass up your ass

Several seconds of silence passed.

Message from: Not the Captain

Well goddamn okay

As someone who has had Problems before: mixing pain meds and booze can/ will cause liver damage so like. Don’t.

Thanks Harz

Thank you Harvard

Thanks Harzy

Kiss me on the mouth Big Brain O’Hara

Remus set his phone on the table and ran a hand down his face, then flipped it back over and ignored the dozen new messages that had popped up in his absence.

Message to: Not the Captain

Cap’s house Friday 8 pm

He contemplated adding a request not to bring up Harry, but decided against it. Best to let things go on as usual—James was the only one he would have worried about, but he was perceptive, and he would know better than to poke that particular open wound while everyone was trying to have a good time.

Message from: Not the Captain

Loops I’m in love with your planning skills

Thank u mom

Kiss me on the mouth Loops

STOP


Sirius hadn’t been so visibly excited since…well, if Remus had to guess, since the night they figured their shit out for real. He was like a puppy at summer camp, happily parked by the big front window while the guys rotated in and out and music thumped off the walls. Remus caught his eye and smiled at the giddy grin that instantly came to life on his face, shaking his head when Sirius motioned him over. Nachos, he mouthed, tilting his head to the kitchen. Sirius gave a dramatic shrug, but then Kuny settled next to him and his attention was gone.

A weight lifted off Remus’ chest. He hadn’t realized how much pressure he had been putting on himself as in-house doctor over the past three weeks, playing medic 24 hours a day. Sirius had never asked him to, but he felt like it was implied. What was a little more work, anyway?

Remus looked over the crowd again once the nacho pan was out of the oven and sighed into his vodka lemonade. A lot more work. More than he had expected. Sirius was doing such a good job of regulating his own meds and exercises, but the little part of Remus that needed to know everything, always, had been screeching toward oblivion in the back of his head. He should just be grateful that Regulus didn’t seem interested in one-on-one attention, because there wasn’t any left to give.

A shadow darkened his periphery. “I’m not kissing you on the mouth.”

“Not even a peck?” Talker teased, slinging an arm over his shoulders to give him a little shake.

“Oh—Jesus, Talkie,” Remus laughed as his drink nearly sloshed over the rim of the cup.

“You’re lurking. Why are you lurking? Party people don’t lurk.”

He sucked the spilled lemonade off his finger, making a face at the bite of alcohol. “I have never in my life been a party person.”

“That’s a lie,” Talker scoffed. “I bet college Loops went wild.”

“College Loops studied.” And gave an accounting student semi-regular blowjobs.

“Okay, then maybe current Loops needs to take a deep breath and stop looking at the captain like he’s going to spontaneously combust.”

Remus’ face heated and he looked away. Fuck. He had been trying not to do that.

Talker gave him another, gentler, shake. His eyes were kind when Remus glanced up. “I get it, man, we’re all worried. But you’ve got a bazillion people here who can keep an eye on Cap while you both have fun.”

“I’m trying to be better about it.” The words felt lame.

But Thomas didn’t mock him, just ruffled up his hair and took a sip of beer. “He looks good. Healthier. His posture’s better, too.” His lips quirked when he looked back to Remus. “C’mon, I was a kinesiology major. I know shit.”

Remus knocked his forehead on Talker’s shoulder. “Thanks, T.”

“Any time. Can I try that?”

Remus transferred his drink to his other hand, out of reach. “Absolutely not.”

“Swap?”

“Nope.”

“Can I smell it?”

“Why would you—”

A commotion kicked up and Remus knew what had happened before his name left James’ lips. “I’m fine,” he heard Sirius say as he set his drink down and made a beeline for the living room.

Fucking shit, he knew that tone. Tight with pain and trying to hide it, the same one that always reared up when Sirius tried to go too fast. The guys moved out of the way without question, dispersing to give them space before Remus even had to ask. The carpet was soft under his knee when he knelt and took Sirius’ hands. “Ice or Advil?”

“I’m fine,” Sirius gritted out. His eyes were shut so tight the edges crinkled.

Remus swallowed his initial protest, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Five shallow—”

“—five deep,” Sirius finished for him on the third shallow breath. “Ouais, I got it.”

He waited until the obvious pain had faded from his angular face, then another five breaths before giving Sirius’ hands a gentle squeeze. The team was still chatting in the background, but it was more subdued. Less natural, more like a movie set. “Did you turn too quick?” he asked quietly.

Sirius’ jaw ticked. “Sat up straight.”

Remus’ heart sank. Just last week, they had gotten to the point where that didn’t cause immediate agony anymore. “Okay,” he started. “Okay, I’ll grab some ice, we’ll start saying goodbye—”

No.” He stopped cold; the tension between Sirius’ brows eased and he looked up, guilty now. “Merde, sorry, I—no, we don’t have to kick everyone out. I’m alright.”

Remus leaned in and kissed his cheek, letting his lips linger a moment longer than usual. “Tell me if it starts hurting more, yeah?”

Sirius nodded. His hands gave a quick pulse around Remus’ before letting him go.

It didn’t take much to let everyone know the party was winding down after that. Remus didn’t have to say a word.

Sirius noticed anyway.

“I told you I was okay.”

Remus looked up from the dishwasher. “What?”

“My ribs.” Sirius’ expression was dark, irritated, the closest to angry he had seen in a while. “Earlier, when they hurt again. I told you I was fine and you just…why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You really fucking suck at playing dumb, so don’t.”

Remus’ brows shot up toward his hairline. He spared a moment to be glad Regulus was having a video game night with Leo before setting a plate down and turning fully to Sirius, who had worked himself up into even more of a thunderstorm. “Look, I didn’t say anything to anybody—”

“You don’t have to say things to tell people to fuck off.”

“I didn’t tell anybody to fuck off!”

“You told them to leave!”

“I don’t make decisions for your teammates—”

“No, you make them for me.” Sirius exhaled hard through his nose and combed a hand through his already-messy hair. “When are you going to start trusting me with my own body, Remus? When? At what point are you going to admit that you don’t know everything?”

“When you start acting like you can treat this seriously,” he snapped.

Sirius stopped cold. Remus held his breath, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. Oh, karma, you really are a bitch.

There was no option but to keep pushing. The idea of it made Remus feel sick, but his mouth was already running off again. “I get that you’re frustrated—”

“I’m not frustrated, I’m angry—”

“—then join the fucking club, because I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to keep you from breaking yourself all over again while you—”

“There you go again!”

“Stop making me the only one with common sense!”

“Stop being a control freak, Remus!”

“It’s like you don’t even care about healing—”

You won’t let me hold my godson!

Oh. Oh. Remus felt the fight flee from his body in one rush. Oh, no. Sirius’ chest was heaving, and with each harsh inhale, more pain etched his expression. He looked down at the dishtowel in his hand, wrung tight between his white knuckles. It was harder than he thought to pry his fingers off it and set it on the countertop. “Sirius…”

“He’s so little. He’s so little, and I wasn’t there when he was born, and every time I try and be there now it’s like nobody wants me to.” Sirius’ voice wavered and he took a shaky breath, crossing his arms over his chest. Remus couldn’t make himself move. “That’s all I want, Re.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Tears threatened the backs of his eyes; Sirius’ were already filling, and he sniffled them back. “Sirius, I…”

Sirius shook his head. “I know.”

“That wasn’t what I meant by any of it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The rough edge of his voice grated on Remus’ heart; he closed some of the distance between them, hands hanging useless by his sides. “I just didn’t want to see you hurting,” he said at last. “And I totally fucked it up.”

“No, no you didn’t.” Sirius tipped his head back, like he was willing the tears to go back where they had come from.

“I did,” Remus repeated. “I’m sorry, Sirius. Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I know you were trying to help,” he said thickly. “But I—I didn’t get to hold Reg as a baby and I told James I would be there for him and nobody is letting me do anything and what if he doesn’t know me? He’s just a baby, what if I’m not important to him?”

Remus fought the tremor of his lower lip. “You are,” he managed. “Every time you go over, he lights right up like he just saw his favorite person in the world.”

The first sob made Sirius’ shoulders jerk and he clenched his fist, biting back a groan. Remus stepped closer and carefully uncurled it, sliding his own there instead. Sirius fell into him, his arms still tucked against his chest while Remus rubbed light circles over his back. “I’m a horrible godfather,” Sirius said into his shoulder, misery in every word.

“You’ve only been one for three weeks,” Remus laughed humorlessly. If you’re a horrible godfather, I’m the worst boyfriend in history. “I think Harry can cut you some slack for broken bones.”

Sirius hiccupped. “Do you really think I can’t take care of myself?”

Remus had been wrong before. This was the real killing bite of karma. Next time, universe, please just beat me with a baseball bat. It’ll hurt less. “I think I’m more of a control freak than I like to admit,” he said with a kiss to the shell of Sirius’ ear. “I think you’re a lot smarter than anyone gives you credit for. I think you have the patience of a saint for living in the same house as a medic when you’re injured.”

“Can’t exactly kick you out, now.”

“I’ll could sleep over at Talkie’s.”

“Non, you two would elope before the week was out. I’d never stand a chance.”

Remus buried his smile in the bend of Sirius’ neck as weak laughter shook them both. The house, what little he could see of it over Sirius’ shoulder, was less of a mess than he expected. “Baby?”

Sirius made a quiet noise.

“Wanna finish these nachos with me?”

The apology must have come through clear enough. Sirius relaxed in his arms and his hands moved down to bracket Remus’ hips, fingers slipping into his belt loops once more. He bent for a chaste kiss that deepened for just a moment before pulling away, though their noses still bumped at the end. “You taste like vodka, a little bit,” Sirius informed him.

“That’s the closest you’re getting to any big kid drinks until you’re done with your meds.”

“Re?”

“Yes?”

“You’re doctor-ing again.”

Remus winced. “Sorry.”

Sirius kissed him again, which felt like a good sign. “If this is the closest I’m getting to vodka—” He paused to tilt his head and Remus felt his knees go gooey at the brush of soft lips. “—then I’d better savor it, hmm?”

“Yeah, you better,” Remus said, a little dizzy with the rush. Party adrenaline, explosive catharsis, ginger-beer-flavored kisses—he didn’t know what he’d do if the night kept going like this.

They ate the nachos eventually, elbow-to-elbow at the kitchen counter. Remus kept his mouth shut until Sirius’ timer went off and he took his meds, no reminders necessary. When they went to bed that night, the pillow barrier didn’t cross either of their minds.

When they woke in the morning, Sirius held his hand.

Chapter 84: Toddle

Summary:

Young Harry wanders off at the rink; Lily makes an unexpected ally

Chapter Text

Lily was calm. Lily was level-headed. Lily was not, under any circumstances, going to lose her shit.

“Harry? Harry, love, time’s up!”

Because losing her shit wouldn’t do any good. Losing one’s shit was reserved for people who could afford to do so, those who didn’t have a husband and brother-in-law that would tear the rink apart at the first sign of trouble for their five-year-old.

Oh, who was she kidding. The entire team would go ballistic.

Worst of all, Lily would have to admit she had lost her kid.

“I am a horrible mother,” she muttered, the clack of her boots in the empty hall speeding up to match her pulse. “I am a horrible, horrible mother and they never should have let me leave the hospital with that baby. Harry? Are you down here?”

Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard giggling. Lily’s heart seized and she wrenched open the nearest door—nothing. And the next, and the next, and the next, until her whole body itched with anxiety.

“I know you’re having fun, baby,” she called around the growing lump in her throat. “But we’re all done playing right now. All done. You did such a good job finding your hiding place. Can you show me where you are?”

I look like an idiot right now, talking to myself in an empty hall. The next three rooms were empty as well, lined with folding chairs. A conference room, a ballroom, a kitchen; not a soul in any of them. Lily picked up the pace.

He couldn’t have gone far. She only gave him ten seconds—ten seconds, sweetheart, are you ready?—to find somewhere to hunker down. The sound of his little feet on the crisp linoleum had made her smile with one hand over her eyes, counting slow enough for him to hear each number. The door had been closed. It was just them in the break room.

The door had been closed, and then it wasn’t.

“Harry?” Panic turned her mouth bitter and she swallowed hard, forcing it back. None of that, Evans. Save it for later. “Harry James, it’s time to go home.”

Oh, fuck, James was going to lose his mind. She loved him for his rationality in the face of danger but god only knew what would happen when their fucking baby was the one missing. Taken—

No. Not taken. Lily couldn’t bear the thought.

Her breaths came faster. The corners of her vision blurred. “Harry?” she tried again, voice cracking. “We’re all done playing, baby, come see me.”

Even if James managed to keep his even keel, Sirius wouldn’t. Loyal as a dog and twice as protective. Lily loved him like a brother but he would never forgive her if she let Harry go.

“I didn’t.” The words stuck in her mouth and she sniffled. She paused, tucking her arms around herself like a hug, her lungs fucking burned oh god—“I didn’t let him go, I didn’t, I didn’t, I—Harry, love?”

And again, she was left with a silent hall.

Lily exhaled. Pressed the heels of her hands to her stinging eyes. Sniffled once, twice, three times, forced down a thick sob. “This is not the time,” she said firmly, bringing her arms back down. The bright lights made her grimace. Think. “Alright. Locker room.”

She sent a silent prayer of thanks to James for showing her all the secret nooks for sneaky kisses as she followed winding paths through the rink. The crowd above made the ceiling rumble; there had hardly been ten minutes left in the third when Lily left the break room. The game would be over all too soon. Her watch said only five minutes had passed, but she refused to believe it had been less than a lifetime since she saw Harry in front of her.

The locker room, one of Harry’s favorite haunts (much to James’ delight), was well and truly empty. The kitchen was still locked as she had left it. Momentary terror gripped her when she saw the open maw of the tunnel, but logic won out. Even if Harry had wandered toward it, he would have been swept up by one of the security guards and safely deposited with someone who would find her.

“Lily?”

Lily nearly jumped out of her skin and whipped around with a half-gasped “fuck”.

Layla smiled, though she seemed confused. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” Tears began crawling up her throat again and she forced a smile. “Just—yeah, just left my phone somewhere. Can’t find it.”

“Okay,” Layla said gently, though one look told Lily she didn’t buy a word of it. “Well, I’m here until the end of the game. Let’s look together.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Lily managed.

“Anytime. Let’s go get Harry and—”

Lily may as well have become a puddle on the skate-scuffed floor with how fast she dissolved into tears.

“Hey, hey, alright.” Layla caught her under the arms when her knees buckled, surprisingly strong for someone of her stature. “I’ve got you, it’s all going to be just fine. Is Harry not…with you?”

“We were p-playing hide and seek,” she sobbed. “ ‘s just hide ‘n seek, he didn’t like the crowd and I had to pee and we were in the break room and I closed the door I promise.”

“I know you did,” Layla soothed, squeezing her tight despite Lily’s trembling. “Let’s take some deep breaths together.”

Lily’s chest lurched on the first.

“That was a really good start. One more.”

It was easier to breathe when she wasn’t alone.

Great job, Lily, that was perfect.”

Layla hugged a little like Remus, a little like James, and somehow better than both of them in that moment. She let Lily clutch the back of her zip-up sweater without protest, and when they finally parted (when Lily could fucking breathe again), she tucked the wild flyaways back with a reassuring smile.

“We’ve got this.”

Lily sniffed. “We’ve got this.”

“How long ago were you playing?”

“Seven minutes.”

Relief eased the faint tension around Layla’s eyes. “Then we’ve got nothing to worry about. I haven’t seen him go by my office, so he probably went the other way. Are you ready to start looking?”

Lily nodded, but went into one last hug like she hadn’t been held in weeks. It certainly felt like it.

“I didn’t know who to ask,” she admitted once they started walking, arm in arm, looking into every storage closet they passed. “It felt—god, I’m so stupid. I felt like I shouldn’t have to, y’know? He’s my kid. I should just…know.”

Layla tilted her head from side to side. “I’m glad you asked me, though.”

Lily squeezed her hand. “Me, too.”

“The good news is, he can’t have gone very far.”

“I dunno, he got James’ penchant for trouble.”

“Pots can’t make it past me on a good day,” Layla laughed. Her ease calmed the bubbling anxiety in Lily’s gut. “That kid might be quick, but he’s not making it past trained security. Where have you already looked?”

Lily gestured vaguely. “The other way, mostly. Just kind of…everything over there. He likes the locker room.”

“Does he?” Something thoughtful came over Layla’s face and she slowed for a moment. “Would he—and tell me to shut up if I’m wrong, here—do you think he’d try the other one?”

“The other—” Lily faltered. “Oh my god, you’re so right.”

“I don’t know if he’d know where it is,” Layla admitted as they hurried down the left fork. “But it can’t hurt to try, right?”

“No, he definitely knows,” Lily snorted humorlessly. “That kid’s had more rink tours than I have. The guys bring him everywhere. He’s started reading signs, if you can believe it.”

“For real?”

“If anyone asks, he got it from me.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Lily rounded the corner to the visitor’s locker room and slowed to a stop, her momentary second wind rushing out in one harsh burst. Gloves, helmets, emerald-and-silver jerseys…and no toddler. The only movement came from the screen in the far corner, showing the last minute of the game ticking down. Disappointment, worry, fear, guilt—it was all there, leaving her right back where she started. “I thought…”

Someone giggled down the hall and Lily was there in the blink of an eye, pushing an already-open door wide with her heart in her throat.

“H—oh.”

Narcissa Malfoy’s razor-sharp gaze softened with confusion. Her hands were on the shoulders of a little blond boy in a miniature Snakes jersey, holding him tight. “Mama,” he whined, wriggling free with a wary look at Lily. “I told you I wanna play.”

Lily didn’t register the scrape of carpet on her knees until Harry was already in her arms, still holding two fistfuls of LEGOs while a cheerful flood of a story spilled out of him. She didn’t hear a single word of it.

He was warm and squirmy as always, tall as her hip when they were standing but just big enough to fit in her arms like this. She pressed her face to his hair and inhaled; soap-clean and still a little damp from his pre-game bath. Faintly, she knew she was shaking. She knew Narcissa and Layla and the other kid were probably watching. Lily brought her face up to kiss Harry’s forehead and bundled him right back in her arms to be hugged some more.

“…mama?” Harry sounded hesitant. She hummed, rubbing his back. “Did you hear?”

“Say it again, lovey.”

“I said I like hugs but I’m playing LEGOs right now, please.”

Her lungs felt too small. “We’re all done playing for today.”

“But mama—”

“Harry.” It took everything in her to separate and sit up properly, holding Harry at arms’ length. “We were playing hide and seek, remember?”

“…yeah.”

“And remember how I asked you to stay in the break room while I counted?”

His guilty look told her everything. “Yeah.”

Lily raised a brow, brushing a gentle thumb over his cheek. “I didn’t know where you went, baby. You scared me. Why did you leave?”

Harry scuffed his shoe on the floor. “Got bored.”

“Harry.”

“I wanted to see the other locker room ‘cause Daddy said it looked different than ours. Ms. Narcissa found me.”

“Thank you.” The worst part was, Lily could hardly blame him. If Harry got James’ general disregard for rules, he also got her own insatiable curiosity. Poor kid, she thought. Your teachers are going to have quite the time with you. “We’ll talk more when we get home. Can you introduce me to your friend?”

“I’m Draco,” the blond boy announced haughtily before Harry could answer, which seemed to take the wind out of his sails a bit. “I’ve been playing here all night. I built the volcano, see?”

“I do.” In truth, it was hard to tell one part of their LEGO mishmash from another, but it seemed to appease him. Narcissa was still watching her as if she thought Lily would start biting. With her hand resting protectively on Draco’s back and those careful, guarded eyes, it was only too easy to see the blood she shared with Sirius. They held themselves with the same straight-backed posture, a silent challenge to take another step closer to their ward.

Lily offered a small smile and inclined her head. Thank you for watching them both. Narcissa didn’t relax, but her pointed chin did dip for half a second.

Outside, the goal horn blared. Harry and Draco made identical faces of annoyance at the interruption, but Lily felt her stomach sink. She and Narcissa had a shared point of contact—the Snakes, on the other hand, did not. She didn’t care for them. She certainly didn’t want Harry around them. From the curl of Narcissa’s lip as the whoops of the Lions echoed down the far tunnel, the feeling was mirrored on her side.

Lily broke eye contact first and bent to Harry’s level. “Time to go, lovebug, Daddy misses you. Can you say bye to Draco?”

“Bye!” Harry chirped, pulling the other boy into a brief hug that seemed to surprise him before returning to Lily’s side. “See you next time!”

The look on Narcissa’s face told Lily a ‘next time’ was unlikely, but…but not impossible. Lily sent her a final nod as she ushered Harry into the hallway. Layla was already gone; she couldn’t help but be grateful for a brief moment of alone time with Harry.

“I like Ms. Narcissa,” Harry announced, hopscotching the gray and white tiles.

“Do you?”

“Yep. She was nice. She keeps LEGOs in her purse, didja know that?”

“I didn’t,” Lily admitted. “I’m not surprised, though.”

“How come you don’t keep LEGOs in your purse?”

“Because I don’t use purses. I lose them too fast.”

“Well, yeah, but what about your backpack?”

“I keep books, cards, snacks, and some other things in my backpack. I like feeling prepared.” And I’m thirty seconds from sticking a GPS on you.

Harry made a faint noise of agreement when they entered the main hall, pulling the sleeves of his too-big Potter jersey down over his hands. “D’you think Daddy will play LEGOs with me and Draco next time?”

Lily had to bite her lip to stifle a hoot of laughter at the thought of James Potter willingly sitting in a room with anyone even distantly related to the Snakes, let alone one of Sirius’ cousins, let alone a Malfoy. “He’s busy during the games,” she said instead. “But he would love to play with you at home.”

Where I can keep an eye on you, she added. They had already passed the labyrinth of halls she had wandered for the worst seven minutes of her life, but she kept close to Harry anyway. Seven minutes was too long to be away from him. Seven seconds was too long.

Harry stopped just outside the locker room, leaning against her legs to look up at her with big, pleading eyes. “Will you play LEGOs with us next time?”

There were a variety of reasons Lily could say no, could tell Harry to stay away from that team and everyone near it. Hell, she had a damn good reason to keep Harry away from anyone associated with Sirius’ parents. Narcissa’s guarded posture rose in her memory, unwarranted. Her crisp clothes, the abrupt black-and-white of her hair, the way her pale hand had been so gentle on Draco’s shoulder. The way Draco had held on to her coat the same way Harry hid behind her own around strangers.

“Sure, baby. We can do that.”

Chapter 85: Falling for Forever

Summary:

Sequel to What You Have, What You Hate

Chapter Text

It just wasn’t fair.

Sirius was fine. Honestly, genuinely, from the bottom of his heart—he was fine. Sure, some days his head hurt more than others. Sometimes he’d wonder where he put his phone when it was still in his hand, or enter a room and forget why he went there in the first place, but those weren’t new occurrences. He could walk and talk and remember just about everything from his life, with the notable exception of the ten minutes before the hit.

But Remus hadn’t slept properly in days, and Coach wouldn’t let him back out on the ice, and the whole damn thing just reeked of pity he didn’t want. Pity he didn’t need.

Remus’ hands flickered over him, tucking and retucking the sheets until Sirius caught his wrists and pressed a kiss to each pulse point. His broad shoulders sagged. “I’m being a bother again, aren’t I,” Remus muttered. He shook his head without waiting for a response. “Fuck, I am, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not being a bother.”

“No, I totally am—”

“You’re not,” Sirius repeated. The shadows under Remus’ eyes lightened every day, but still lingered. He looked threadbare, his voice thin, like someone had taken an eraser to his edges. He held Sirius tighter at night than he ever had before. The worried crease between his brows smoothed when Sirius pulled him down to sit on the mattress with a small smile. “Lay down, I’m cold.”

Tension had been holding Remus up like a second skeleton for days now, ever since they had been discharged from the hospital and promptly collapsed into bed for ten hours. Sirius had only seen it release him in deep sleep—a fleeting event at best. It was like the hospital had followed them home and seeped into the walls, staining Remus’ vision until they were right back where they started.

Remus turned out the lamp and curled into his usual spot against Sirius’ chest, shuffling around until he was comfortable; Sirius splayed a hand between his shoulder blades and tucked his nose into soft curls. Of all the aftershocks he had prepared himself for, the fatigue had snuck up on them both. “Bonne nuit, mon coeur,” he whispered.

“Night, baby.” Lips brushed the peak of Sirius’ cheek before Remus snuggled up once more.

Kiss me, and I’ll know, Sirius had said into the inch of space between them on a paper-thin hospital pillow. And Remus had, because he was made of everything light and good and kind in the world. It had been six days since they came home; two weeks since the hit. That remained the only time Remus had kissed him on the mouth. Sirius closed his eyes against the ache in his chest and readied himself to try and rest.


That first night home had been distilled bliss. They showered together—showered, dear god how Sirius had missed that—and Remus had washed his hair and the spots he couldn’t reach with reverent hands. They were both so, so tired from the endless discharge paperwork and so, so silently afraid to step away from each other for more than a few seconds. Remus was shaky, but happy. Contented. Solid in Sirius’ arms when they finally laid in their own bed after days upon days. They spooned the whole night and into the morning, neither budging an inch.

“We should eat,” Remus had sighed when the sun was finally too high to ignore. His hand moved in slow strokes, tracing from Sirius’ hand to his elbow and back again, just to touch. The intimacy of the movement settled something deep inside them both if his drowsy smile was anything to go by.

They stayed in bed for another hour in comfortable silence before their empty stomachs won out. Even in the kitchen, Sirius had hugged Remus from behind with his chin propped on a well-muscled shoulder to watch him cook. “Mon coeur,” he murmured into the shirt that had once been his. The smell of the hospital was long gone and the fabric was soft. “Mon loup, mon amour.”

He had trailed his mouth along the curve of Remus’ neck and held him close. The frayed edges began to ease.

The routine came easily. Nothing else did, so Sirius had to be a little grateful for it. They left social media to its conspiring and only spoke to family, face-to-face on the doctor’s orders. Leo meal-prepped like a madman; they could hardly keep Dumo out of the house; Lily brought Harry over in an obvious ploy to distract Sirius while their husbands fixed the leaky faucet, though he wasn’t offended by their caution. If it were James on the injured list, he would have swaddled him in bubble wrap at the first opportunity.

“Hey.” A kiss feathered Sirius’ temple and he looked up from his crossword, blinking back the memories. Remus perched on the table with a smile he couldn’t help but mirror, clad in a sweater that brought out the hearth-warm brown in his eyes.

“Bonjour,” he managed, a little breathless.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“Really?” The doctors’ definition of his permitted ‘minimal exercise’ amounted to literally walking up and down the stairs—even a wander around the block was pushing his luck. Sirius had tried extraordinarily hard not to be jealous when Remus took Hattie out every few hours so she didn’t destroy their couch pillows with excess bursts of energy, but it felt like he was a toddler in time-out. “A real walk?”

“A real walk,” Remus confirmed. He ran his fingers through the hair above Sirius’ ears and Sirius nuzzled into it with a kiss to his palm. That touch had kept him grounded at his lowest point. He knew better than to take it for granted, now.

“What about a run?” he asked, cracking a grin at the eye-roll it earned him.

And Remus laughed. The sound sent butterflies careening through his stomach; it hadn’t been absent since his fall, but it had been…well, a little rare, if he was being honest. More rare than his mostly-reliable memory told him it should be. Remus was joy incarnate, but he had been so tired lately. It was good to see him shine again, even for a moment.

Sirius pulled him in by the sleeve and kissed the corner of his mouth, tasting the last bits of humor that lingered there. Not the lips. Not until Remus was ready. “I love you.”

Remus turned until their foreheads rested together and their noses bumped. He was smiling softly. “Love you, too.”


“Baby?”

Sirius made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t budge. His hands were warm in his pockets, and the sun was hot on his windburned face. Hattie’s collar jingled; he smiled when her nose pushed into his thigh and Remus’ arm looped through his own. “Hey. Good run?”

“That hydrangea was a real threat to our safety.”

Sirius grinned and opened his eyes to kiss the top of Remus’ head. Fresh air seeped into his blood, replacing the stale sludge he had been dragging around all week. Finally, he felt human. “I’m sure it was.”

“Excuse me?”

They both startled, stepping apart. “Yes?” Remus said, his tone curious but a little tense. “Can we help you?”

A young man shifted from foot to foot, as if he couldn’t quite believe they had acknowledged him. It seemed whatever (certainly invasive) question he was going to ask had become stuck in his throat. Sirius arched a brow and saw him swallow hard. “Are you—are you okay?” the young man finally got out.

There it is. Sirius forced a smile and knew it came out tight by the sudden regret on the other man’s face. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You’re sure?”

I’d be a lot more sure if you fucked off and let me enjoy my walk. “Very sure,” he promised.

The young man’s dark eyes flickered between them before settling on Sirius’ forehead. His beanie covered the small bandage, but that didn’t seem to dissuade him from staring. “You were in the hospital for, like…a while.”

“Just a few days,” Remus assured him. Sirius felt a light squeeze on his hand and returned it in a silent request; a gust of wind snuck down the back of his coat and raised goosebumps along his arms.

“Will you play at the next game?”

Sirius exhaled slowly through his nose as something bitter crawled up and stained his teeth. “We’re waiting on the go-ahead from the doctors,” Remus said placatingly. “Better safe than sorry. Thanks for your concern, though. Enjoy the weather.”

They were walking before the man could open his mouth again—Remus’ knuckles were white on Hattie’s leash and she had to trot to keep up with them, her fluffy tail bobbing happily. Sirius ground his back teeth so hard they squeaked. “Remus—”

“Don’t,” Remus murmured, clear and clipped. “Don’t go there, baby, it’s not worth it.”

“I need to play.” He did. He needed to play. He needed to not sit at home for another week, two weeks, a month, and pretend he was alright with it. Six days were manageable. Six more would send him over the edge. If he had to spend another beautiful afternoon cooped up in the house…

“You’ll play when you’re ready.”

“I am ready.”

Remus stopped cold, jostling both him and Hattie. He took a fortifying breath, mouth pressed into an unhappy line. “Please don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Sirius, just—don’t. You know I hate being the bad guy with this kind of thing.”

Sirius looked away. He did know that. He had seen how miserable Remus was when he had to bully Sirius into doing his exercises when his ribs were broken, how it had killed him when Sirius couldn’t put his fatal fucking pride aside for two seconds to heal. Guilt made his stomach squirm. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “But I—I need to play.”

“I know.” Remus’ eyes found his own then, gloved hands wrapping around Sirius’ wrists with something like desperation. “Believe me, I get it and I’m sorry and this has got to be the worst feeling. But this is different than your ribs, okay? We can’t afford to backslide. This isn’t some sort of—fucking punishment, I promise.”

God, he hated spoiling perfectly nice days because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. His winter clothes made his skin prickle. “I feel fine, Re.”

“But you’re not.” Remus turned Sirius’ face back with a touch to his jaw and he went willingly, even though he wanted to see anything but the hurt in Remus’ eyes. Since when was he so terrible at listening? “Not yet. We’ll start here and work our way up. I won’t talk to the press about it after games. You don’t owe people like him a thing. Don’t make this harder for yourself by letting them get under your skin.”

Sirius took a deep breath. The steam of his exhale clouded the curls spilling out from under Remus’ hat. He had known this would happen the second someone asked about his health—it was his rookie season all over again, shooting pucks in the basement because he didn’t know what else to do. Remus deserved better than what Sirius had done to himself. “Let’s do another loop around the park.”


Remus had cried the third night. The days were easy; they could cuddle and cook and Remus would read to him while he napped, still drained from a week of hospitalization. They could watch one TV episode every evening and got permission to throw their diet plans out the window to enjoy some treats in celebration.

At two o’clock in the morning, Remus had bolted upright in bed and shaken Sirius awake, rattling off an endless stream of questions that Sirius couldn’t respond to. Not because he didn’t know the answers, but because he had been unconscious about four seconds prior and was still technically concussed.

Non,” he had mumbled, grappling against waking and batting sleepily at the thing holding his shoulders.

A strangled sob had answered and Remus’ touch disappeared like he was touching hot coals. By the time Sirius registered enough of the world to attempt reassurance, all he could do was hold Remus and silently curse himself. Do you know me? Remus had asked. Sirius had given him the one wrong answer. Done the one wrong movement.

It was three o’clock when Remus finally let sleep take him again, slumping into Sirius’ side with tears drying on his face. Sirius laid them down and watched light play over the ceiling from the street. When Remus woke again at nine, he didn’t say a word about the nightmare, just turned into the hollow of Sirius’ neck and let his hand rest above his heart. Though Remus slept fitfully over the following nights, he hadn’t cried again.

They were working on it.


“Out.”

“But I—”

Out,” Leo repeated, making a shooing motion with his spatula. Sirius muttered something under his breath and trekked back into the living room with a last kiss to his husband’s cheek, working up a scowl like he was getting paid for it.

“Impressive,” Remus remarked around a mouthful of chips from his seat on the counter; his gaze lingered on Sirius’ retreating back while Leo poured sauce over the stuffed pasta and popped the whole pan in the oven.

Leo set a timer, wiped his hands on his pants, then cast one more look out the kitchen door to make sure their respective boys were out of sight before turning to Remus with his arms crossed. “What’s up?”

Remus’ chewing slowed. “Just…having chips.”

“Loops.”

“Did you want some?”

Stubborn bastard. Leo pushed himself onto the counter next to Remus and gave him a look his mother would be proud of. “What’s going on? I’m worried about you, man.”

But rather than throwing the chips aside and spilling his heart out—not that Leo was expecting it from Remus ‘Brick Wall’ Lupin, though a guy could dream—Remus closed his eyes and exhaled long and slow. “You are the third person to say that in 24 hours, Knutty. I’m good. If I wasn’t, I would talk to someone about it.”

“See, if you had ever done that even once in your life, I would believe you.”

“I’m doing great,” Remus insisted. Leo wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “Sirius is home, he’s healing, he’s making progress, we’re fine.”

The distant look in his eyes was gone, but something in his face was still too heavy. Leo hadn’t heard him crack a joke or seen a real smile all day. He chewed the inside of his lip and raised his eyebrows, and watched Remus’ resolve crumble. “I didn’t ask about Sirius, Re,” he said. “I asked about you.”

“I’m not the one who had amnesia.”

“No, you’re the one whose husband had amnesia, and that’s pretty fucking traumatic.” Remus shoved another handful of chips into his mouth with an unhappy crunch; Leo hesitated for a moment, then shuffled closer until their sides touched. Remus tensed. “I’m not trying to push you, but I need you to know that I’m here and I want to talk when you’re ready. I can’t imagine how hard the last couple weeks have been.”

He had tried, the night he went to get Regulus. Every part of him felt full of pure energy—every red light had made him twitchy as the events of the day replayed in his head on constant loop. But picturing himself in Remus’ shoes, and Finn or Logan shoving him away from their bedside with a stay the hell away from me or that fragile, frightened confusion…that had taken the wind right out of his sails. He nearly turned around to go home then and there.

“It sucks.” Remus didn’t look away from the oven timer. “That’s kind of all there is to it, you know? It happened. It sucks. We’re working on it.”

Leo nudged him, just a little. A single crack in Remus’ careful walls was progress. “It does suck,” he agreed. “Have you been alone yet?”

“I mean, yeah, you guys are the first visitors in a couple—”

“Have you been alone yet?” Leo repeated.

Remus was quiet for a few seconds, then swallowed hard. “I fixed the faucet with James, but I can’t…I can’t. I don’t think either of us can right now.”

“Okay.”

Remus’ eyes flickered up to him. “Okay?”

“I’m not a therapist.” Leo shrugged one shoulder and tried for a smile. “I’m your friend. Yes, I’m worried, but I’m not going to force you to do shit right now. I’m going to make dinner for you and a cake and then you’re going to tell me what you need a hand with so you can focus on dealing with this instead of, like, cleaning your windows.”

The kitchen was starting to smell like manicotti, cheesy and warm and full of tomato. Remus set the chips down and tucked his hands under his legs with a shake of his head. Ever so slightly, he leaned into Leo. Success. “I wish this never happened.”

Leo sighed. “Me, too.”

“I wish I had caught him in time.”

“I was closer than you were.” The guilt had been so raw at first, but it was scabbing over. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t fix the present. “Are you mad at me?”

“Fuck, no.”

“There was nothing we could’ve done fast enough, Re.”

Remus scrubbed his hands down his face, then linked them at the back of his neck. “I need to talk to Heather.”

Relief crashed over Leo in a tidal wave; he took Remus by the shoulders and pulled him in for a brief, fierce hug that drew an ‘ope’ of surprise out of him. “I really didn’t want to bring it up but yes, you do, and I will drive you there myself if you want.”

Remus laughed weakly, but didn’t try to pull away. “Is it bad that I want to lay on the floor for at least twelve hours?”

“I might suggest the couch instead, for the sake of your old-man joints.”

“Watch it, Knut.”

“Keep that up and you’re not getting extra sauce.” It was an empty threat and they both knew it, but it was worth it for Remus’ snort of amusement. Leo squeezed him in a quick pulse. “Fuck, dude, I missed you.”

Leo felt some of the iceberg-sized worry slough away at the tentative press of Remus’ hands on his back. In the other room, Logan and Sirius were already laughing. “Will you hide some of the manicotti so I can reheat it later?” Remus mumbled.

“There’s a whole pan in the back of the fridge behind your gross coconut water.”

“The kind Sirius hates?”

Pre-cisely.”

“You’re a godsend.”

“I get that a lot.”


Lily sipped her tea with the same energy as a wolf watching a lame, juicy rabbit from across a riverbank. When Remus said as much, she cracked a smile. “Just thinking.”

“Huh, there’s a first.”

“Fuck you, too.” He felt a light kick to his shin under the table and feigned injury, just to watch her face scrunch in a snort. “Spoke to the hubs.”

“Yours or mine?”

“The less hot one.”

“And how is Pots today?”

“Looking DILF-ier every minute. That man needs another baby. But actually, Re, I think you and Sirius should talk.”

He raised his brows. “Is that so?”

“Sounds like somebody has been squishing all those gross, nasty feelings back into the little box he just got them out of.”

“Oh, Jesus, it is not that bad—”

He jumped when Lily touched the back of his hand. Something knowing had overtaken the laughter on her face. “Remus, you need to talk to someone.”

“I’m seeing Heather on Thursday.”

“Good.” She set her teacup down and took his hand between both of her own, twisting his ring. “I’m worried about you.”

“Take a number.”

“Can you stop for, like, two seconds and let me try to help? I’m bad at this. Have some mercy.”

Something wriggled with discomfort inside him, but he put his cup on the table. “Lils…”

“Calm down, we’re not here to therapize each other. We’re here to have fun and watch bad TV and you’re going to let me paint your nails later. But—” She held her hand up when he made a face. “But first, I’m going to do my job as your best friend and tell you that some people think the patented Remus Lupin Avoidance Tactic isn’t going to work with this extraordinarily terrible event.”

“What people?”

“You know what people.”

Unfortunately, he did. Sirius, Talker, Leo, Lily…the side effect of a supportive family was having all kinds of people up in his business. Even more unfortunately, they were probably right. “Leo talked to me,” he admitted. “It helped. And I really am going to see Heather, and I’m going to try to—I don’t know, let go a little.”

Lily laced their fingers together the way he had done for her the night she found out about Harry. Her next breath came out less steady. “That means you have to let us take care of you, okay? Even if you’re busy taking care of Sirius. He’s got medical experts to do the heavy lifting. You’ve got Remus experts.”

“Lily, I’m not the injured one,” he said quietly.

“This hurt you, too.” The green of her eyes looked a little misty before she glanced away. “Holy shit, Remus, this hurt all of us, but I don’t ever want to watch you hurt like that again. I love Sirius to death but he’s got stuff to work through that you can’t fix. If you’re so worried about helping, then please let us help you.”

“I can’t ask that.”

“That’s why I’m offering.”

An exhale got stuck in his chest and he coughed lightly; Lily tilted her head back with a sniffle. Christ on a crutch, this whole vulnerability thing is harder than it sounds. “Leo made us dinner the other night. Talker and I are going skating on Saturday. I’m trying.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you are. But if it had been James that fell, and I was the one in your spot, what would you do?”

I wouldn’t leave your side. He started to answer, then faltered. Lily’s mouth turned down at the corner. “Oh, shit,” he said thickly. Across the table, Lily nodded. “Oh—I have been awful to you.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad.” The pressure of her hands on his own increased, like she was trying to push it into him.

“I’m scared.” His voice wobbled and he blew out a sharp breath. In the blur of his vision, their hands were the same vague lump. How could he be so self-absorbed? How could he push them all away without even knowing it? He opened and closed his mouth. I need help. I need help. It was right there, but all that came out was, “Lily.”

She tugged on his sleeve; in the space between breaths, they were hugging. Her breaths hitched under his hands a few times before calming, and Remus shut his eyes tight and held her closer. I hurt you. I’m sorry. He knew she wouldn’t accept an apology. That didn’t mean he couldn’t think it with all his heart. Somehow, she would hear it.

“All you have to do is let us be there,” she rasped, pulling away to hold him at arms’ length with a light shake. “We want to. You’re scared and that’s fine and nobody is angry with you. Just talk to us. Talk to Sirius.”

He nodded mutely. When Lily brought him close again, he didn’t pretend he needed anything else.


The isolation was what killed him most. They were given no privacy—fuck the media and fuck the inventor of cell phone cameras, motherfuckers the lot of them—and so Sirius saw it all. Everything he didn’t remember. Everything he had tried to forget. Remus, pale and frightened with Sirius’ blood on his fingers. Remus, unable to let go of his hand when the medics pulled Sirius onto the stretcher until James pried him off. Remus, tucked in on himself in the lobby outside Sirius’ room looking like he had been flayed inside out.

So he understood. He got it. The trauma, the pain. What he didn’t understand was why Remus wouldn’t let him in anymore.

It hurt a little (a lot) to hear Remus rustling around and know he wouldn’t get a kiss even if he asked. And when he did ask, his request would be met with a wan smile and a brush of lips to his cheek, chin, forehead, everywhere but his lips. There was love in those touches—he could feel it radiating—but the reckless abandon was gone.

It was like Remus wanted to melt into the walls. It was like he wanted to melt and leave Sirius behind entirely.

God, it was always him, wasn’t it? Always his fault. Everything that went wrong in Sirius’ life would track right back around in an endless circle to the laundry list of wrong decisions. The ache of knowing Remus didn’t want him anymore was constant and painful like a broken ankle, but the absolute fucking terror of being shut out was a killstroke Sirius had never wanted to imagine.

He didn’t like the person he was before Remus. He didn’t want to know what would happen if the frosted front was permanent. How could he be real and solid when the one thing that reminded him he was alright was…

Was not alright. So deeply not alright in every curve and angle of his body. Sirius wasn’t foolish enough to think Remus would willingly talk about his feelings, especially at a time like this, but some silly, devoted part of him had thought Remus would at least try. He had mentioned something similar (if kinder) to Lily over crepes and hot chocolate, and a funny expression had come over her face. She had touched his wrist and smiled, but a troubled shadow remained through the rest of their lunch.

When Remus came home after their day together and said, “I asked for help” before anything else, he knew that shadow had found its mark.

“You did?”

“I did.” Remus took his time with his winter layers, hanging and folding each one with unusual care. “Lily and I had a good talk.”

“That’s—”

“I haven’t been fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sirius blinked. Lily, what did you do? “… for what?”

“I’ve been all over the place.” His words were coming just a touch too fast.  Remus’ hands were cool on his face, but his lips were warm when he left a kiss on each of Sirius’ cheeks, like he had been biting them again. “I was trying to do too much for you, and I should have backed off. We both needed some space to process.”

“Um. D’accord.” He kissed Remus’ forehead and felt him melt. His shoulders relaxed. His hands came to rest on Sirius’ hips. Sirius left another tentative kiss by his temple; he would take every bit of affection he could get. “Is everything okay?”

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Remus repeated.

“I—no, I heard that part.” Sirius rubbed his back carefully. Remus had grown thinner over the month, though from stress or distraction, he wasn’t sure. The notches of his spine ran in a ladder beneath Sirius’ fingertips as he gathered him closer. Perhaps Lily had succeeded where he had failed. “You’ve done more than I could have asked for, loup.” More than I deserved. Yet Remus wasn’t pulling away from him, wasn’t showing the slightest sign of discomfort under his hands. “I picked up some zucchini. And made a cake.”

Remus made a faint noise of interest where his face was pressed close to Sirius’ collarbone.

“It’s chocolate.”

That got him a pleased mumble.

Sirius risked a kiss to the top of his head and got a happy sigh in return. “Come cook with me. We’ll talk. Tell me about Lily.”

Remus blinked slowly when they parted; the nervous buzz of energy had trickled to a hum. “What about Lily?” he asked. “You just had lunch together.”

Did she tell you I moped about you? “Ouais, but you talk about other things.” He left his hand on the small of Remus’ back as they crossed the short distance to the kitchen and found no protest. Perhaps it was time for a bigger question. “You look better, mon coeur. It seems like she helped.”

Tension twitched against his palm before settling down again. Remus stretched his arms out with a groan, then went for the cutting board drawer. “She did,” he admitted after a moment. “I was—yeah, no, she helped a lot. There was a lot happening in my head that I didn’t have words for.”

“I know the feeling,” Sirius half-laughed, passing him a knife. This was good. This was progress. Before the fall, they cooked together every night. His body knew the motions even if his thoughts were a whirlwind. Remus knocked their temples together lightly. Next step. “Like what?”

“What?”

“What didn’t you have words for?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder and began slicing the stems from the zucchini. “Just…stuff. Oh, you found really good ones.”

“I’m glad.” Sirius watched him work in silence for a few seconds, stirring olive oil in a pan with no heat under it. Remus didn’t appear to notice. “Re?”

“Mmm?”

“Were you angry with me?”

“Oh, god, no.” Remus jerked his head up, his brows pitching. Something in Sirius’ expression must have given him away, because his gaze softened. “I was just scared, I think. It’s been a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” he joked.

But Remus didn’t laugh. His cheeks flushed and he turned back to the zucchini with an uncomfortable cough. Fuck. Remus tugged his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it in a tic Sirius had been trying so hard to break him of. “I couldn’t help you. At the rink, I mean.” The knife accentuated each word with a clack. “But I could help here, and so I was trying too hard. That’s kind of my—um, that’s kind of my default.”

“Je sais,” Sirius said quietly.

“So, I’m sorry for spiraling into you when other people know how to help better.” Remus let out a shaky laugh. “God, this is hard. I’m trying to be brave about it.”

“You were brave for me.” The words were gentler than expected. The chop-chop-chop of the knife slowed, and stopped. “You stayed in a hospital for three days. You were brave for me.”

A wobbly slice of zucchini fell on the cutting board. There was a slight tremor in Remus’ hand, now. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“You were brave,” Sirius repeated. He reached out and stopped the knife, folding Remus’ fingers into his own. “I can’t imagine what that was like. Thank you.”

His shoulders shuddered. He still didn’t look up. The tremor had spread to his arms, fine and delicate under his sweater. “I would do it all again.”

“I know.” Remus sniffed at that, pressing his sleeve under his nose as if he could hide it from Sirius. A droplet hit the edge of the cutting board, staining the wood. “Mon loup.”

“For you, I would do it all again.”

“Remus,” he murmured, turning him by the shoulders until he could see Remus’ bottom lip quivering despite the turn of his handsome face. A noise caught in Remus’ throat when Sirius cupped his jaw and brushed the pad of his thumb over one damp cheek. “Re, I need you to talk to me.”

“I can’t do it,” he choked out with a slight shake of his head. “Not without you. I wouldn’t want to.”

And, fuck, if that didn’t just carve at something deep in Sirius’ insides. Remus couldn’t even look at him, his gaze somewhere between the cabinet and the floor, hidden under his too-long hair that was just starting to curl.

His next breath was almost a wheeze. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes, you can.” Sirius gave his arms a light squeeze. Remus was strong and solid and more grounded than anyone he knew.

The sniffs came faster, his chest hitching over and over until it became a constant shiver; he swayed forward, hands slipping from Sirius’ elbows to grip the back of his shirt like it was the only thing holding Remus on Earth, his face pressed flush to Sirius’ chest as tears began to soak through it. Sirius caught him. Held him. He tucked his face against the side of Remus’ head and let him leave all that heavy burden in his arms for just a moment longer.

“I could,” Remus admitted, so miserable Sirius had to close his eyes. “Fuck, Sirius, I could, but I would hate every second of it.”

It should be impossible to feel heartbreak for something that never happened. And yet.

Sirius shifted to rest his chin on Remus’ head while sobs turned silent in the sleeve of his shirt. He would give anything to take that pain away. His fame, his money, anything in the world—whatever it took to make sure Remus never had to wonder if he would have to keep going alone. Sirius would be dead before he left him. But he supposed that was exactly what Remus feared most.

“You don’t have to.” He whispered the promise into the soft golden hair above Remus’ ear like the greatest truth. “You don’t have to, I swear. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, and I want you, and I care about you, and I’ll never leave you.”

The big talk could come later. He was more than willing to wait.


 

Remus woke in the middle of the night to the blankets shifting and a familiar weight absent from his side. Rather than giving in to immediate panic (a far-too-frequent habit, though he hated to admit it), he reached out with a sleep-slurred question and felt around blindly until Sirius’ hand caught him. “I’m here,” Sirius said with a laugh in his voice and a kiss to his wrist. Remus hummed. Of course he was. Sirius had never left him before. “Re?”

“Mhmm?” he managed, slotting himself into Sirius’ side and throwing a leg over his thigh. He was warm and wonderful.

Sirius was quiet for a bit, idly toying with Remus’ hair. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Kiss you all the time.”

“On the lips.”

Ah, yes. Exhibit number 204 in the inventory of Remus’ weird hangups in the wake of terrible things. He was endlessly grateful for Leo and Lily—their talks had let him begin to classify the experience as actual trauma rather than dismissing himself more—but it still made him frown into Sirius’ shirt. The truth, while necessary, wouldn’t be pleasant.

“ ’m scared,” he said at last.

The hand in his hair slowed. “You’re scared… of kissing me?”

He finally blinked one eye open and checked the clock. Hours left until dawn, because they had never been able to have serious conversations in daylight. He stretched, bidding the dregs of drowsiness goodbye before he moved his head to the pillow and met Sirius’ troubled expression. Oh, god, I lost him. The words had ripped from him as he knelt on the cold floor of the hospital, disoriented and shattered, his world coming down in pieces. He had never thought it was possible, and that made it hurt even more.

Remus sighed through his nose and kissed the closest bit of Sirius he could reach. “It brought you back to me.” Kiss me, and I’ll know. “I’m still afraid it’ll take you away.”

Sirius stared at him for a long moment. “You know I was flirting with you, ouais? At the hospital. With the kiss thing.”

“I know, baby,” Remus laughed, a little bubble of happiness sliding all the way into his heart. He had missed their talks. “You were very smooth. But…I don’t know, it stuck with me. I know it doesn’t make sense. I want to kiss you all the time, and every time I try, I think about seeing you in that bed.”

Sirius’ palm nearly covered his whole cheek as he cradled Remus’ face, guiding him in to brush their noses together. “How about this bed?” he said, low and just for Remus to hear. “This is a good bed.”

Remus’ heart skipped a beat. Sirius’ lips were so close they were practically touching; he was comfortable and safe, and the hospital was far in the past. He knew what Sirius’ lips would feel like against his own, how his breath would catch after the first press. Kissing Sirius was a part of life and he loved it with his whole heart.

“You don’t have to,” Sirius whispered. Remus could feel the shape of the words on his own mouth and closed his eyes. “Re, you don’t have to, but I love you and I want you to know you’ll never lose me.”

A shuddering breath left him. He was afraid. But he could be brave at the same time.

Sirius’ breath caught when their lips met and Remus squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, feeling the rough scratch of stubble on his palm when he guided Sirius’ chin down for a better angle. His lips were as chapped and full as he remembered; his smile was just as sweet. Sirius let him roll them over until Remus could hover above him, supported by one elbow because he couldn’t bear to break contact now that it was in his hands again. “Re—”

Remus made a small noise and kissed him harder. No words. Nothing to take them out of this. Sirius curled a hand around his wrist and held it, his thumb rubbing circles over Remus’ pulse. It wasn’t until his lungs began to burn that he leaned back, lips sore and heart racing. “I love you,” he said around the emotion clogging every attempt at speech. A few weeks ago, that kind of kiss would have been nothing but a habit. “Sirius, you don’t even know how much I love you.”

“I know—”

“You don’t.” The memory of bright fluorescent lights bleeding in from the hall pushed at the back of his mind. His whole body tingled. When he licked his lips, he could taste Sirius’ chapstick. “I know you love me because you tell me and we spend time together and you hold me so close, but I don’t know how to tell you so that you understand.”

Sirius’ hands smoothed along his heaving sides. “I know you love me, Re. Have a little faith.”

“I have so much faith in you.” The air didn’t burn with antiseptic; their sheets were washed with plain laundry soap. “I would do anything for you. I love you so much.”

A tumble of soothing French followed and Remus sank into it, letting himself be guided back down and hugged. “This is important, so I need you to listen,” Sirius said with a scattering of kisses to his jaw. Remus forced himself to open his eyes. He would listen. He would do that for Sirius, whose gaze was determined, but not angry. Never angry. “I love you. I always have. I loved you from the second I woke up in that hospital room, even though it scared the shit out of me.”

Sirius had feared him in the hospital, had shoved him back. Get away from me.

“Please look at me.” He found Sirius again in the darkness. His calm eyes, his gentle mouth. “I’ve never doubted your love, Re. I can feel it in everything you do.”

“I try really hard,” he said, far too honestly. Sirius’ hand smoothed down his spine and Remus pressed into him. He wanted—he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Even being held was overwhelming. Another kiss might make him pass out.

“I know.” Sirius’ voice was heavy. “I’m sorry if I made you think anything else.”

Remus shook his head. He never wanted to leave their bed. “It’s just been a lot.”

“It has. I’m so grateful for you, Re.” Lips touched his forehead. “Mon amour.”

My love. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You can take your time,” Sirius said with another peck to his cheek that made him burn. “With kisses, and with—with everything.”

Hmm, no, please knock me out with your magic lips. “Can I have a goodnight kiss?”

“Ouais, mon vœu.” Sirius didn’t even try to mask the relief in his voice as Remus tilted his head up; his hand was steady under Remus’ chin when it dipped at the delicate kiss. “Fais de beaux rêves.”

He moved to pull away, but Remus chased his mouth and caught him for another. Sirius was right—this was a good bed. The sheets were familiar, the light a soft glow. It was home. They kissed at home.

He left one on the corner of Sirius’ mouth for good measure before settling back down with an arm over his ribs. The bundle of anxiety he had been carrying since they came home felt lighter. “Goodnight,” he sighed, vibrating in every limb. “I love you.”


Sirius knew it would feel good to be back on the ice, but he had never imagined it would feel like this. The puck found the flat of his stick just like he knew it would; the carbon fiber flexed, he squared his shoulders, and the whoosh of it sinking into the net brought nothing but joy to his whole body. Remus was right, per usual—hockey was love.

He took a wide, lazy loop while everyone else fucked around, chirping each other or fencing with their sticks or boxing, gloveless and playful. The ice was smooth under his skates; he let it carry him wherever it wanted and watched spirals form in his wake. His pads fit like a second skin, grounding him with their weight. Even his mouthguard settled just right over his teeth.

“Someone’s having a good day,” James teased, smacking the backs of his thighs as he passed. Sirius grinned, deliriously happy, and let James drag him into a hug; they collided with a familiar thump of pads. “Man, is it good to have you back out here.”

“It’s good to be back.” Five weeks was by far the longest Sirius had ever gone without skating. Even in the summers, he would find a rink or head to the basement when he got the itch. Mid-season, that number was down in the hours. His skates were home. He was finally settled in his skin.

“This captain shit is hard,” James laughed when they parted, eyes bright behind his contacts. “I’ve been doing it for a month, and I’m done.”

“Five years,” Sirius reminded him.

“I know, you fuckin’ hockey mutant.”

Sirius stole a puck out from under Finn and snapped it to James, who caught it with ease. All it took was a twitch of his brow and the game was on, keep-away across the ice with rules they both knew by heart. The cold air burned his face when he picked up speed; James’ crossovers were even better than they had been when they last played together, and Sirius smiled. A month of being captain had done him good.

The shrill chirp of Arthur’s whistle stabbed all the way to the base of his skull and nearly sent him flying into James’ back mid-dive. “Fuck—”

“Easy,” James grunted beneath his weight when he caught him. Concern had replaced the excitement on his face. “Hey, you okay?”

“I—yeah, I’m fine.” Sirius blinked and shook his head. Weird. He hadn’t had so much as a headache in two weeks, but already he could feel a faint throbbing behind his eye. He shook his head again and stood up straight, pointedly ignoring the worried looks several teammates were shooting him. He was fine. He was healed.

“I posted the schedule by the bench,” Arthur called, the whistle hanging innocently around his neck once again. “We’re doing fundamentals today, okay? Nailing down the basics is a strength of this team, so I want you to put a hundred percent of your effort into the technicalities. Save any fancy tricks for the scrimmage at the end.”

Sirius smiled to himself. He excelled at fundamentals, and if he knew Coach, those basic exercises would fall right into his wheelhouse. He wasn’t stupid—obviously it was Arthur’s way of saying ‘welcome back’, but Sirius wasn’t about to complain about a chance to show off a little and shake the rust away.

Passing drills? Easy.

Net accuracy? Piece of cake.

Puck handling? Sirius had more than enough trophies sitting at home to do it in his sleep.

He reveled in returning to the routine that had built his entire life. His stick was an extension of his arms and his skates added those few inches of height for the perspective he had been missing, always a bit too short to see things through the right frame until he was back where he belonged. His muscles burned just right; the gloomy fog lurking in the back of his head lifted under the bright lights of his favorite place.

Someone bumped his back just as he was (reluctantly) heading to the bench for a water break, and arms wound around his waist. “Hi,” Sirius laughed as momentum carried them forward.

“Hey.” Remus gave him a squeeze, then ducked under his arm. He was flushed with happiness. Sirius’ heart tripped over itself. “How’re you feeling?”

“So good.” His whole face hurt from smiling and he cast a look around at the perfect chaos. “So, so good.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Got a little wobbly earlier with James. Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sirius assured him, tilting Remus’ face up for a kiss on his button nose. But it was for fun, now. They had been allowed more than enough time to figure out their issues, both at home with each other and alone with Heather. Impossibly, he felt better around Remus after a month of recovery than he ever had before. “I’ll tell you if I start feeling bad, but this is good. I needed it.”

“I know you did, baby.”

They made their way back to the bench together, hips bumping with each out of sync step until their skates were on solid ground again and Sirius let himself fall into the mess of his friends without hesitation. Shoulders jostled, elbows knocked—he was at peace. “Good to have you back out there, Cap,” Kasey said with a grin and a clap to his upper arm. “Needed someone who could give me a run for my money.”

“Hey!” Logan complained.

A hand caught Sirius by the scruff and he went willingly into Dumo’s side hug, nudging their temples together. “Thought you could take a break and come back just as strong, eh?”

Sirius grinned. “You know it.”

Dumo tsked and shoved him away by the forehead. “Remus! Five weeks, and you haven’t tamed the ego on this one?”

“Not nearly enough time,” Remus countered with a wink that made Sirius’ stomach flip. “I barely managed to keep him in bed, you think I was paying attention to the real elephant in the room?”

“Yeah, I bet you kept him in bed!” Finn wolf-whistled, earning himself a squirt to the face from Remus’ waterbottle. The conversation devolved rapidly into hollering and playful jabs from all sides, and Sirius gave as good as he got.

Then the whistle blew again, and black spots of pain danced in his vision.

He rubbed the corner of his forehead with the heel of his hand for some relief and felt the textured skin of his new scar pull. He frowned.

“Baby?” The guys were still loud as they flooded back onto the ice—he must have missed Arthur’s instructions, he never missed instructions—but Remus’ voice was barely above a murmur. “Sirius, you okay?”

“Ouais.” The spots faded out. The pain had been quick and sharp, like lightning. “It’s—yeah, I’m good. The whistle startled me.”

Remus had his PT face on, though, and Sirius’ heart sank. He wasn’t getting out of this one easily. “Your head’s bugging you?”

Before the fall and everything that came after it, he might have lied. He might have continued to tell Remus he was fine despite obviously not being fine, and Remus would have let him, but he would’ve been upset and it would take them days to work it out. Hell, six weeks ago Sirius would have cut every corner he found to get back into hockey as fast as possible. And because Remus loved him, because Remus was so goddamn committed to making sure he was happy, he would’ve been able to get away with a lot more before someone called him on his bullshit.

That was six weeks ago. That was before the fall.

“It’s hurting a little,” he admitted. “But only when the whistle blows, and only for a moment. We’ll check it out when we get home. I feel really good for the scrimmage, though.”

Remus nodded hesitantly, then leaned up and kissed his cheek. A frown touched his mouth. “Talk to Layla after practice?”

“I will,” Sirius promised.

And that was that. Honesty, an easy promise to keep, and they were good again. They had both learned over the first few stages of recovery that a lack of communication to salvage one good moment wasn’t worth the inevitable Jenga tower of problems later. Sirius didn’t have to be afraid Remus would leave him over an imperfection, and Remus didn’t have to fear Sirius feeling suffocated by him.

It was such a breath of fresh air.

He lined up across from Dumo, bracing for the puck drop as adrenaline dripped through him and focused his vision. He won the face-off in one quick swipe of his stick and passed it to James, who caught it just like the last million times they had done it.

“Open!” he shouted as the opposing defense closed in on James and Finn. The puck was a blur he knew well, easy to catch, easy to carry. He slipped past Olli and dodged Dumo’s attempted poke-check; Sirius couldn’t stop grinning. His body remembered everything it was supposed to.

He snagged a goal in the first period and two assists in the second. It wasn’t until they were well into the third period that he realized he hadn’t taken a single check.

At first, he wrote it off as a scrimmage courtesy—no checks meant a severely reduced risk of injury. But it lingered in his thoughts and dragged his gaze to spots he normally wouldn’t put that much attention in; Logan colliding with everyone but Sirius, Nado and Kuny’s play-fight, Remus’ quick hits that always shocked the puck from the opponent. Not even one of them came close to Sirius.

He called for the puck again and made a break for the net; Logan was on his ass in a second, but he didn’t make a move to try and steal it away. Sirius extended his stick a couple inches. Nothing. He did it again, giving Logan the perfect opportunity to snatch it away if he just bumped Sirius a little.

“Are you going to take it or not?” he snapped as they swerved around Dumo.

Logan immediately looked guilty. “I…”

Sirius ground his teeth and knocked the puck to James, who attempted a shot he didn’t even try and follow. If they weren’t going to play fair, he didn’t want to play at all. “What the fuck are you doing, Logan?”

“Playing defense.”

“I practically handed it to you!”

“Well, fuck you, too!” Logan said waspishly.

The throbbing behind Sirius’ eye had started again. He wanted to break his stick in frustration, but he didn’t know if he could do it. There were angles and force and—and his head was killing him for the first time in weeks. The others were gathering in little huddles around them. He fixed Logan with a glare. “Why didn’t you take it?

“It’s a scrimmage!”

“So hit me!”

“I’m not going to hit you!”

Sirius almost had him now. “You’ve hit me before! Split my fucking lip, too!”

I’m not going to hit you!”

“I can take it, Logan!”

“Well, I’m not willing to fucking risk it!”

They were close enough to each other by then that Sirius watched Logan’s anger dissolve into instant regret in excruciating detail. The rink was dead silent. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered. The rest of them had the nerve to look surprised when he turned. Surprised and ashamed. “Is anyone here a doctor?”

Skates shuffled, tentative and awkward.

“Have any of you seen my medical information over the past month? Any treatment plans? Anything?” They huddled together like a pack of kicked puppies. Sirius took a deep breath. He was their friend, but he was their captain, too. He had their respect. He wasn’t about to lose it over one injury. “I don’t need you to worry about me. I need you to trust me. I know it’s my first practice back, but I know my body. I don’t need special treatment and I don’t want it.”

James raised his head; where shame tinted the faces of their friends, it found no home with him. “We’re worried. That’s it. It’s not worth the risk right now.”

“I don’t—” Sirius cut himself off before he could say something he regretted and pressed a hand over his eyes. Deep breaths. “Jesus, Pots, did you tell them to do this?”

“It was me.” His heart sank as Arthur leaned on the boards, unapologetic. “I told them to be gentle. You’re a great player and a good man, and I’m not going to risk your health in the first few practices.”

Sirius looked at him for a long moment. “It was a concussion. One concussion.”

“A concussion that had you in the hospital for close to a week and needed a month of recovery.” Arthur met his gaze and did not flinch. “You’re the captain of my team. I need you in top form, and I’m willing to make a little extra time to get you there. This team will not succeed if you throw yourself back in and get hurt again right away. Understood?”

His mouthguard squeaked between his teeth. Sirius looked down. “Yes, coach.”

Arthur tapped his clipboard against the boards. “Good. Scrimmage is over, boys. Do some cooldowns and then get stretching. Sirius, come talk to me when you’re done.”

Someone caught his elbow when he went to skate to the bench. “I’m not sorry,” Logan said, his jaw set. “I know you’re pissed, but I’m not sorry.”

Sirius sighed through his nose. “Yeah, I know.”

Back to the beginning, then.


“I know I’m the prettiest person on this team, but don’t look at me. Look at the light.”

Sirius squinted into Layla’s small flashlight; she passed it in front of his eyes a few more times before clicking it off. “All good?”

“Fine and dandy,” she said. “You said your head was hurting?”

“Just with the whistle.”

“Then, yeah, that sounds like normal stuff to me.” She shrugged one shoulder and offered an encouraging smile. “Your concussion is healing really well. Your focus was good, your pupils look normal, and light sensitivity seemed low. The auditory stuff is just taking a little longer to settle. How long until you’re allowed to play again?”

Sirius held down a grimace. “Three to six more weeks.”

“Sounds about right,” Layla said, apparently unbothered. “It’s good to have that much leeway, Cap. The noise sensitivity should wear off in a week or two, which means you’ll have plenty of time to get back on your feet at a hundred percent and play your best. If it doesn’t, come talk to me and we’ll fix it.”

“Yeah.” Paper pilled under his fingers as he picked at it. Six weeks would put them right on the doorstep of the games-that-must-not-be-named; he wasn’t exactly looking forward to being thrown into high-stakes competition right off the bat.

The exam table crinkled when Layla sat next to him. She was quiet for a moment, then patted his knee. “You’ll be okay. This is the kind of thing that shouldn’t bug you once you rest and recover. In a way, it’s better than your ankle.”

Sirius smiled wryly. He liked Layla—she had the same lovable good humor and unrelenting optimism in the face of injury as her predecessor. “I think most things are better than a broken ankle,” he noted.

“True.” She bumped his shoulder. “No more moping, Cap. You’ll be out there in no time.”


“Flashlight to the left. Okay, good. Give me the flat screwdriver.” Something clinked, then clattered, resulting in a satisfied hum. “Black tape. You looked excellent at practice today.”

“Thanks,” Sirius mumbled. He rummaged in the battered canvas bag until something vaguely tape-textured hooked his finger. “Uh, this one is white.”

“The black kind should be in the side pocket next to the box cutter.” Dumo hummed again when he pressed the correct roll into his open palm. “Merci. Your footwork was especially good.”

“My footwork is always good.”

“I know,” he chuckled. Several more bolts (nuts? Sirius still couldn’t remember which were which) fell into the pan by his thigh like silver sprinkles. “Coach seemed impressed.”

Sirius arched a wry brow, even though Dumo couldn’t see him. “Coach was just surprised I didn’t fall on my face.”

“Non, he was very happy to see you—”

“He told everyone to go easy on me.”

“What, like you wouldn’t do the same if it had been Remus? Or Logan? Or me?” Sirius winced at the thought; with a squeak of wheels and a slight groan, Dumo scooted out from under the washing machine and gave him a look. “I know today was frustrating, but you can’t expect us to beat you up this soon.”

“It’s been a month.” He was well-aware of the slight whine in his voice, and judging by Dumo’s amused huff, he wasn’t alone.

“For you, maybe. Felt like years to the rest of us.” The nut-bolt-screws were cold when Sirius rolled them between his fingertips, scowling. Dumo patted his arm with a grease-streaked hand and began sliding back under the machine. “Give it time, mon fils. They just want you back safe and sound.”

“They need me back for the play—”

Non,” Dumo interrupted.

“They do!”

Dumo muttered something under his breath before looking up at him again. “Sirius. Come on.”

“James said he had a bad time as captain.”

“Oui, because he missed you. He did great. You should be proud of him.” A screwdriver gently poked him on the kneecap. “This is not about hockey. This is about friends.”

Sirius set the pan aside and stretched out on the concrete floor. His legs ached from being crossed for so long. There were cobwebs between the cupboards and the ceiling, even with the cold weather. “It’s hard for me, sometimes.”

Dumo made an understanding noise and turned back to the screws.

“Falling was embarrassing.” It was so much easier to talk about like this. Heather was a godsend, but the words came easier in French and the soft noise of the garage was far more soothing than a blue room with a suede couch. “It’s like—who even does that? I was tired. That’s it. Now everyone is upset.”

“I disagree with the last part, but okay.”

“Remus is upset.”

“Since when do you count Remus with ‘everyone’?”

He saw Dumo grin at the ensuing silence and covered his face with a groan, letting his head fall back on the cold floor. “God, fine, I’m being mean again and nobody is actually mad at me.”

“Atta boy. Hand over the white tape.”


It got better. Sirius got better. He had daily visits with Layla—they both had a laugh about old habits die hard, but still they laughed—and his weekly appointments with Heather had finally begun to veer back to their usual conversations. Aren’t you bored of my shitty childhood by now? Sirius had teased when they made it thirty minutes without discussing his head.

Heather had scoffed at him and whacked him lightly with a pillow. As if I’d be sad to see you this happy. Don’t even think about more head wounds, puck boy. We’re getting to the root of that next.

Slowly, he admitted that he had been sick when it happened. (It seemed Kasey hadn’t spilled his secret, after all). He told her about the chattering teeth and the brain fog that set in that morning; about the fatigue that had piled onto him until he couldn’t even make it through the gate and had to let it win. He told her about the overwhelming feeling that it was all his fault and that everyone would hate him for taking a break.

The world hates me when I’m good and hates me when I’m bad.

They’re wrong for that.

That had made him smile. Heather rarely spoke in absolutes. I know, he answered honestly. She hadn’t pushed him on it, and he liked to think she even believed him.

Remus was laughing again, moonlight in darkness. The good snacks began to disappear from the pantry once more—Sirius couldn’t be mad about it, no matter how often he considered billing Talker for their monthly groceries. Every bag of chips he never got to taste meant Remus would come home and kiss him and ramble about the day like the most adorable runaway train in the world. “I love you, I love you, I love you” smushed into his cheeks, forehead, lips.

His boys carried them to the playoffs with ruthless focus. His pads still fit and the whistle was on his side. And when he was ready, so fucking ready it made his veins hot, Remus pulled him into the break room with a wicked grin that made him thank every cosmic moment that gave him pregame rituals. He would take every bit of luck he could get. The crowd roaring for him deserved it all.

It came in the dusk of the evening, when the blustering winds had calmed and Sirius’ mind felt quiet at last. It was the relief of a wound freshly bandaged—there was no burn of newness, and yet no itch of a scab. It was just a wide, soft couch and a chest rising and falling beneath his hand. Remus kissed his forehead and let it linger like a dream. “Oh, I love you.”

Sirius breathed in, and out. A single spritz of cologne. Lavender shampoo. “You said you couldn’t do this without me,” he said, keeping his voice low. Remus hummed his agreement. He lifted his head slightly, into the gentle pressure of Remus’ hand in his hair. An auburn brow arched in a silent question; he traced the shape of it with his thumb. “You think I can do any of this without you, loup?”

Remus’ mouth curved in a half-smile. “You can do a lot without me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“That’s where we always end up, eh?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Chapter 86: May It Never Leave You

Summary:

What You Have, What you Hate (Logan's Version)

Chapter Text

Sunlight yawned over the horizon. Logan ticked another day in his head. 52 hours. Nearly a new record. The last time he didn’t sleep for two days, he and Finn had just finished playing Yale.

At least the apartment smelled better than their dorm had. Leave it to Leo and Finn’s monthly Target dates to find the best candles.

His head hurt. His chest hurt. Even his fucking eyes hurt, like he had kept them open after diving into the lake. It was a miserable way to feel in an otherwise perfect place—but then again, very little had been perfect recently.

Leo stirred in the curve of his body, not much more than a twitch. He hadn’t been sleeping well, either. Finn was the only one able to keep his eyes closed for longer than an hour (if that) and even he was quiet during the day. Dawn caught their phone screens as it filtered through the sliver of the blinds, all lined up on the nightstand with ringers turned to the highest setting. Just in case.

Logan blinked hard and pressed back into Finn. He needed to feel something solid; needed to feel Finn shift, his arm tightening around Logan’s waist. Something between his lungs throbbed with blunt pain.

“We should visit today.”

Leo’s voice was dull and coarse. Logan nodded into the nape of his neck.

“I want—” He broke off with an audible swallow. “I want to check on him.”

Sirius had woken for nearly twenty minutes the day before. James had been there, and Remus, of course. Logan wasn’t sure they had left yet. Remus certainly hadn’t looked like it. But their excitement was momentary at best when Sirius’ sleepy greetings turned incoherent, and he slipped back under for the rest of the day. Logan shook the whole way home.

“D’accord,” he murmured, tucking his knees into the hollow of Leo’s own. His belly was tense under Logan’s palm; he rubbed slow circles over it and kissed the curve of Leo’s neck. “We’ll go.”

Finn’s alarm went off at eight. They let it ring itself out. Nine minutes passed and it went again, a cheerful jangle that faded into silence. Slender fingers curled up against Logan’s collarbone. Finn’s cheek was flat on his shoulder blade, shaky breaths passing warm air over his skin. He let go for less than a minute. The alarm didn’t ring again.

Leo had the courage to check his email at nine and Logan half-read it over his shoulder, little blue dots disappearing unread into “[Gmail] Trash” under a thumb with the nail chewed down to the quick. He kissed the little-dipper trail of faint freckles up Leo’s shoulder and nudged at his wrist until he set the phone down with a tired smile and allowed Logan to coax him onto his belly, shifting closer. His cheek was pillow-creased when he turned. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Logan passed his thumbpad along Leo’s cheekbone, and blue eyes fell shut.

They didn’t get out of bed until ten o’clock. Breakfast was a quiet affair despite the radio and the sizzle of the stove. “Someone should text Remus,” Leo said as he passed eggs to Logan to crack. “See if he needs anything.”

Logan fought a wince. Sleep. Therapy. For someone to physically remove him from that place. According to James, they had only just managed to make him take a walk around the upper floor of the hospital. He’d been sleeping in a chair. Logan hadn’t pressed for more information, and the guilt gnawed at his ribs. “We can bring…sandwiches. Or something. Maybe books? A change of clothes?”

“Toothbrush,” Leo suggested, prodding at the scrambled eggs. “That might be nice.”

Logan carefully sliced another section of the green onion before speaking. “James brought his toothbrush. And a hoodie, I think. I can ask what they need.”

“Are they letting him stay?”

“Loops?”

“James.”

“Non, only immediate family.”

“I’m so glad they got married.”

Logan turned and saw Leo do the same. Finn was rinsing his fingertips under the faucet, but nothing in his face told Logan he was paying any attention to it. The purple under his eyes was nearly mauve in this light. “Me, too,” Leo said softly.

“Just—can you imagine?” Finn cleared his throat, shutting the water off. “I mean, Loops would be losing it. Immediate family. I wonder if they’d call…y’know.”

Logan wasn’t going to think about that. He had been trying very, very hard not to think about that for nearly three days, now. None of them needed monsters under the bed when the real thing was bad enough on its own.

“Well, they didn’t,” Logan said briskly. The handle of the knife dug into his hand; he forced it into steadiness and moved the next handful of onion over. At the stove, Leo’s shoulders were tight up near his ears. “And we’ll go see him, and it’ll be fine.”

Sirius?

Hmm-mmm.

Buddy, can you hear me? It’s James.

Bonjour.

Tremz, call the nurse in real quick—hey, keep your eyes open. How are you feeling?

Mmm. Bon. Head hurts. Remus?

I’m here, I’m right here.

Tiny green shreds sprinkled onto their eggs, bright and clean. A ‘thanks, cher’ painted onto his temple by a kiss.

Alright, Mr. Black, let’s take a look at that forehead.

Non.

Is it hurting?

Game day. Pick up Reg from practice.

Mr. Black, please try to stay awake.

Baby, just listen—

Gotta pick him up. Reg’s practice.

“You want bacon?”

Logan blinked down at the plates. It all looked beautiful, like his mother’s wax fruit in the living room back home. “Sounds great.” He kissed Leo’s shoulder and dusted the last bit of green onion onto Finn’s portion. “Merci. I’ll get forks.”

A little shiver ran through Leo. He tucked his arms across his body, as if the apartment wasn’t set to seventy-five degrees year-round, but smiled down at Logan all the same. “Thanks.”

“Are you cold?”

“Nah, not really.”

Footsteps padded over and then Finn was there, tugging his sweatshirt off and slipping it over Leo’s head. If nothing else, it got a laugh out of him. Weak—but there. Finn’s glasses sat sideways on his face and Logan poked them back into place with a gentle swipe down the razor-straight bridge of his nose. “I made cocoa,” he said, raspier than Logan was accustomed to this late in the morning. “I’m not really—it’s not a coffee morning, I guess, but if you want some I can—”

His mouth fell quiet against the inside of Leo’s shoulder, muffled by his own hoodie. Logan saw his chest lurch in Leo’s tight hold. He felt a little dumb attempting to wrap his arms around them both and cursed his proportions for the hundredth time, but neither seemed to mind. Leo was still trembling just slightly. Finn was board-stiff; his hand came up and twisted in the pocket of Logan’s pajama pants to draw him close.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, and Logan was trying so hard to be angry.

Leo gave a light cough. “I’m really fucking scared.”

That first night, Logan had fallen asleep praying he would wake in his bed in Rimouski, buried under the heavy blue duvet he had stolen from Aubrey when she redecorated her room on her 13th birthday. It was old and soft and safe and lightly scented with the lavender soap their grandmother mailed from Nice every month. But his stomach had rioted at the thought of waking alone, the last ten years a dream. As horrible as this was, as sick as he felt, God would have to pry this from his cold dead hands before he gave it up. He wished he knew how to tell them that.

Finn was hot at the nape when Logan leaned against him. “We’ll eat,” he suggested, tracing a loose heart over Leo’s mid-back. “Breakfast looks amazing. We’ll shower. I’ll call James. They’re not going anywhere.”

“…I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Finn said quietly.

“I want to take a bath,” Leo murmured into the top of his head. “You can come with me.”

Finn nodded, then swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“He won’t,” Logan said. When Finn didn’t show a sign of hearing him, he nibbled at the curve of his shoulder; a smile twitched his lips. “Hey. Hey. He’s got half the team there already. We’ll bring sandwiches and be popular, d’accord?”

“You need to be muzzled.”

“That sounds fun.”

Finn snorted, pushing at him without taking his face from the sanctuary of Leo’s chest. “Get outta here.”

“Come eat before the food gets cold.” Disregard that nothing sounded worse than eating right now. They had bigger things to worry about, and none of it would be made better on an empty stomach. But maybe, maybe they’d have a kinder day. And maybe Sirius would wake up for real this time. They just had to take it in stages, one baby step at a time.

One. Leo and Finn took a bath.

Two. Logan scrubbed the breakfast dishes.

Three. He tucked Leo close and tight to himself while they put the lunch order in on the couch.

Four. His kiss to Finn’s cheek lingered before his hand came anywhere close to the passenger side door.

Five. Remus was on the floor.

Sirius’ door was closed, and Remus was on the floor.

Logan pushed the takeout bag into Olli’s hands and broke into a run.

“What happened?” His knees smarted on contact with the tiles. Dumo was slackjawed and Remus was fucking white. “Loops? Is he okay? Did something go wrong?”

He’s gone, he’s gone, we lost him.

Someone was speaking, Leo was speaking, Remus was staring into the void like the world had fallen out from under him. His arm was loose and weak under Logan’s hand; he eased his grip and watched Remus’ throat bob. A breathless gasp broke from him before any words. “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

“No, Remus, that’s not…” Dumo looked exhausted. Sounded exhausted. Logan could feel himself beginning to shake, deep in his core where the fear snapped and burned. Deep brown eyes slid over the group before fixing Logan to the scrap of a planet beneath him. “Sirius is alright,” Dumo said firmly. “He’s awake and Pots is with him right now.”

Then why are we all on the fucking floor? he wanted to shout. The burning raced up Logan’s throat and into his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

For all that Logan’s terror blinded him, Dumo didn’t look well, either. “We don’t know the full story, but—”

Nonsense bumbled from Remus’ mouth. His eyes had slipped to the pale tile, pupils dilated, a hundred years away. An exhale rattled in him like a sob chained down. “Five percent. They told me five percent.”

Logan swayed. A hand steadied him when he sat back. Dumo hadtold him about the five percent. Five percent had been hooked in the back of his mind for 60 hours and shaken him from half-waking dreams. But five percent was nothing—was practically zero. Five percent was a liability figure told to prevent a lawsuit, nothing more.

Remus was lifted to his feet, barely, and Logan watched him sit hard in one of the stiff chairs. No tears striped his ashen face. Beside him, Dumo was blinking fast. Olli passed him a napkin from the paper bag Logan had picked up not fifteen minutes ago from the place Remus liked because they had soft-serve ice cream. The place Sirius liked because Remus liked it.

He wasn’t sure if he could get up, now. It seemed he had left his knees at the cashier’s counter by mistake.

“Lo.”

A funny noise escaped him at pressure on his back.

“Lo, baby, come up with me. Come on.”

Thomas was holding Remus around the shoulders. His mouth turned down at the sides while they spoke in low voices.

Logan couldn’t help himself. “Did we lose him?”

“No,” Finn said immediately, voice dropping hoarse. “God, Logan, no, we didn’t lose him.”

“Five percent chance of severe memory loss.” That first night had been so long and so hard. He had stammered his way through a call with his father, though he couldn’t remember a word they exchanged. He knew he had stayed plastered to Dumo’s side for hours while Sirius went through scan after scan, fast asleep. Finn let him push close, let him pretend he could hide in the hollow of his arm. “We lost him.”

It was audacious to claim any part of his pain alongside whatever Sirius must be feeling—whatever Remus must be feeling. Logan couldn’t help it. The chasm of his belly beat not fair! into his guts. Sirius had done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve five percent.

“I want to go back to bed,” he mumbled.

Finn’s hand rubbed along his back. “Okay. We can do that. We’ll get up, we’ll go home—”

“I want to wake up right now.”

“Oh. Oh, Lo…”

“This is not supposed to happen.” Tears clumped on his lashes. He refused to let them fall. He had no right. “This is not. He has to be okay.”

“Pots is with him.” Finn brought him close, and shame burbled up at the way Logan clutched him all too tight. They shouldn’t be doing this with Remus right there. “Cap’s got a lot of good people looking out for him right now. Nobody better. And I have you, and we’ve got Knutty, and we’re just going to take a minute for everyone to calm down.”

Finn was using his storybook voice. Hills and valleys, nearly singsong. It set some part of Logan’s brain mute with old comfort. “I need—I need to help.” His throat scraped when he breathed. “I need to get up or I’m going to stay here for a really long time.”

“I know.” Of course he did. Finn always knew what Logan wanted before Logan did. Drinks, food, kisses. This. He was already braced against Logan to boost him up, for Christ’s sake.

If Logan gave him double that love in return, it still wouldn’t be enough. Not for Finn, who deserved all and more. He wanted to pack him up in softness and seal it with a kiss, keep him somewhere safe and kind forever. They stood together—only a little wobble before he righted himself. Leo had pushed a sandwich into Thomas’ hands and was trying to shepherd the others into it as well. He didn’t like the tension creeping up the back of Leo’s neck.

Remus was still staring at the door as if he’d seen a ghost. Logan didn’t want to go in there. He caused damage. He was shit at fixing it.

He really wanted to be angry at this.

“Please eat.” Leo’s voice was tight and pitched at the start, forced into his measured baritone. His nailbed was white where it pressed into thin wax paper; Logan made a silent note to get him some water from the fountain down the hall.

“Hmm?” Dumo blinked a few times, then startled, as if he hadn’t seen Leo there. His gaze slid from Leo’s face to the sandwich, and he took it with a wan smile. “Ah. Merci.”

He picked at the sticker sealing it, but that was all. Logan had spent too much time around the man day in and day out to be fooled into thinking he was anywhere on this plane right now. Distant eyes and tight wrists. A rigid back, like when they thought Marc broke a rib at hockey practice. Logan wondered if Remus could hear his mind whirring from the adjacent chair.

“Loops.”

Thick gray sleeves sheltered his mouth from view.

“Remus.”

Without the vibrant red letters, the lack of color washed him out. Thomas’ deep blue shirt was harsh next to Remus’ grayscale.

“Re,” Thomas tried again, nudging him ever so gently. Remus made a faint noise. “Hey, you want a sandwich?”

“Not hungry.”

Leo’s brows pitched in the middle—Logan wanted to smooth it away, to kiss it into the ether. Distress was a difficult thing to watch on Leo’s round face. “You need to eat,” Thomas said. He took the proffered sandwich with a quick squeeze of Leo’s forearm, and slid it into the space between Remus’ thighs and body. “Whenever you’re ready, just…we’re here.”

“You should go,” Remus murmured into his forearms.

“No.”

“He’s awake. Not much to do now.”

“No.”

“I don’t—” His voice caught and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Not now, not now. “There’s not a lot to do here. The nurses’ll take care of him.”

“We’re here to take care of you, too,” Thomas said quietly.

Remus closed his eyes.

“Ouais,” Logan managed. Finn’s arm pulsed around his waist; he cleared his throat, willing the clamminess from his palms. “Both of you—yeah, whatever you need.”

It had been such a fucking fight during those first terrible hours. Nearly midnight, and still no answers. Adrenaline and exhaustion, scraps of illness battling with the raging fire inside him while every door slammed in his face with a no, no, family only, I’m sorry. Watching them roll Sirius to a scan room. Leaving Remus and his shaky, feeble smile under the scathing fluorescents. Come back tomorrow. I’m sure someone will call you with an update. It didn’t matter that Sirius would have wanted him there.

Well—that was debatable. Sirius probably would have preferred to pass out in some quiet, dark corner and pick himself up without anyone knowing. But Logan had never let him do that before, and he wasn’t about to start now. Goddamn martyr. If it wasn’t for Leo’s quaking grip on his hand, he would have bulldozed past every too-bright white coat in the place and planted himself at Sirius’ bedside just like Remus had been allowed to. He was always there for Sirius. It wasn’t fair to keep him away because of a silly thing like blood relation.

Leo tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Visiting hours start in twenty minutes.”

A silent request filled with bare-rock hope. Logan took the empty chair and cupped his hand over the back of Leo’s. “I’d like to see him,” he offered. He hoped his meaning came through—I’m here. I love you. I’m here because I love you.

The hand beneath his own turned over and twined their fingers, pale and straight against his own fucked-up knuckles. His hands looked so blunt when they were together. Let alone when Finn, all willowy strength, toyed with his fingers. It was like comparing a sledgehammer to a harpist.

Twenty minutes was a long time to ask Finn to sit still. He may have been more staid than usual, but that didn’t stop him from popping up and down no less than four times for water, trash runs, and to check in with the nurses.

More than once, it was clear he was moving just to move. Logan couldn’t blame him. He needed stillness and silence to process, but the flowing magnitude of Finn’s heart wasn’t meant to sit quietly. He had always hated that part of his concussions the most: more than being benched, more than fear, more than the blinding pain Logan had dampened with his shirtsleeve too many times. If his body couldn’t move, his brain had to, and he was denied both in those dark rooms. Logan had always done his best to ease the strain in whatever way he could. He’d pour himself to drought if it would cool the fire under Finn’s skin.

“Lo?”

Leo had scooted closer on his chair, mere inches from sitting in Logan’s lap. He wouldn’t mind that. Closeness sounded good right now. Logan smoothed the ladder of his knuckles. “Quoi?”

“I…” Leo broke off with a slow exhale through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Was he looking for a lie? The truth? Was he looking for don’t worry, I know what I’m doing or I keep thinking I’ll blink and find Sydney in there with her appendix gone? Logan figured he had fumbled pretty hard this morning. I’m really fucking scared. He still didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe this could be his second chance. Leo was so good at giving those.

He shifted over and let Leo lay his head on his shoulder, resting his own against golden chick-fluff curls. Words rolled between his teeth and over his tongue for a long moment. “I don’t either,” he said haltingly. Finn probably would have sounded more confident. “This is new. C’est horrible. I’m—this is horrible. It’s so horrible.”

Remus and Thomas were making their way down the hallway to the lobby. Something about a phone call, Logan thought. To Lily, or Remus’ parents. It was just good to see them standing. Leo sniffled.

He ducked his head and let his lips rest against Leo’s forehead, right under the tuft of gray hair he twirled around his finger on long nights when sleep escaped them both. “We’re here, though. That counts for something. He’ll be glad to see us.”

“He pushed Loops.”

“…what?”

“He pushed Loops,” Leo repeated. “ ‘S what Dumo was saying to Finn when you got us water. Cap woke up, freaked out, and pushed Loops.”

“Oh.”

“I keep—I mean, what if—” Leo groaned softly and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “God, I’m just turning it over and over in my head. I don’t want him to yell at me. Which is so fucking selfish.”

“When has Cap ever yelled at you?”

“It’s not Cap, though, that’s the problem.”

Logan tried not to flinch.

Leo shook his head. “I want to see him. I really need to, just so I stop thinking about it.”

The large clock on the wall ticked through another minute. They were technically allowed to go in now. Logan wasn’t sure his stomach could handle it just yet. Finn’s foot tapped restlessly ten paces from them while he read one of the dozens of bulletin boards, hands clasped behind his neck. “I wasn’t there from the start.”

He felt Leo look at him. “What do you mean?”

“When Cap was a rookie.” He had heard stories. Seen pictures. It looked bad enough to make him grateful for Harvard, just for some distance in time. He watched Finn worry at the full curve of his lower lip. “But…you know, he was still pretty frozen over when I got here. It wasn’t until Loops that he opened up. Even when they weren’t out. There was only a few months you were here where he was quiet.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were new.” Logan shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. He was a lot of things, but he was never mean. Never yelled.” He glanced back at Leo and tried for a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, soleil.”

“Excuse me?” They both turned at the sound of a new voice. Sneakers creaked on the waxed floors. A dark-haired woman smiled at them, flipping a page on her clipboard. “Dr. Manuel asked me to let you know that visiting hours will run from now until eight o’clock. No more than four people at a time, please.”

She seemed awfully calm. Logan wondered if she had been told about Sirius’ condition. Now that he thought about it, had any doctors come and gone since they arrived?

“Fantastic,” he said. A win was a win was a blessing in this mess. “Thank you.”

He could feel his hand shaking in Leo’s when they stood.


Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. “We both lived with him. I’m—” This is wrong. “We’re close. You and me.”

Sirius studied him with a wariness that made Logan want to curl up under one of the hall chairs and never come out. His next breath would be pure smoke from the flaming wreckage of hope inside him, he was sure of it. “Parles-tu français?”

Stop talking like that, stop it, why do you sound like that? “Ouais.”

He looked small in the bed. How could he look so small? Where did he learn that, and how fast could Logan run to get away from it? “Tu t’appelles Logan? Un nom Quebecois?”

Leo’s hand must be hurting from how tight he gripped it. Do not let me go. Sirius had always teased him for his fantaisie bon français drilled into him by his grandmother in Nice but this was not right, not right, not right, from the way Sirius’ voice folded in around his words to the lower, softer timbre just barely letting them free. No, Logan thought, he didn’t like this at all. “Ouais. Je viens de Rimouski.”

“Ah. Montréal, pour moi.” His smile was tentative, almost apologetic. Three days ago, Logan had teased him for this very conversation.

“Je sais,” he managed.                                                                                            

A faint humming noise answered him. He had already seen Sirius’ eyes dart over the three of them, clever and quick even when he was concussed. A subtle jerk of the chin made his mouth parch. “Qui sont-ils?”

“Mes copains.”

Logan didn’t have words for the complicated expression that flitted across Sirius’ face. “Les deux?”

“Oui.” He tried for a wry smile, for anything that could quell the riot of too much inside him. “Tu les appelles Bambi et Fleur. Tu m’appelles Thumper, espèce de connard.”

And almost—almost—that got him a grin. It was almost—almost—enough to make up for the ice-water panic filling his lungs with each passing breath. He didn’t like the smell of this place. Remus’ backpack by the chair, where he had been using it as a pillow. The plastic cups that were never stiff enough for a patient to drink from on their own. His mother had helped Sydney drink for three hours after her surgery, while her hands were still too weak not to spill on herself. And when Finn—

“Rookie.”

Logan felt Leo slump into him with a shaky breath. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, that’s—you call me that.”

There was a whining in his ears. A mosquito, or a siren. The sheets were too crisp. They would make his hands itch. Leo’s hand slipped from his own as he wrapped them around himself and fuck it all sideways, Logan couldn’t even comfort his boyfriend properly. He wanted to put an arm around his waist. His shoulder refused to unlock.

Sirius’ gaze dragged over him before sliding to Finn, brighter than before. “He calls you names in French.”

Oh, you piece of shit, Logan thought with startling clarity. “Sirius!

“It’s true.” Sirius had been stoic for the first part of Logan’s rookie year, fresh off the rush of a disappointing not quite in the second round of the playoffs for the second year in a row. Logan would never forget the relief of nights when Sirius visited the Dumais house, putting aside the professionalism for a dinner that was close enough to home to ease his aching. Sirius had never asked him about Finn, either, content with the simple knowledge that they used to play together at Harvard and still tore it up on the ice.

“Finn,” Finn was saying. “Or Harzy, doesn’t matter much.”

“So you’re on the team, too?”

Logan had needed that presence when he arrived. And the…separation. The wound had been too raw for him to survive someone asking about Finn without the excuse of not knowing what words to use. “All three,” he said now. Sirius smiled, just slightly. His heart gave an unsteady thud-thud-thud. “What, you thought you were the only gay NHL player?”

The smile vanished. Too much. It slammed into Logan like a rogue wave and he bit hard on the side of his tongue. Leo was apologizing now. Apologizing for him. He would never learn, never had. Either he never tried or he pushed so hard a chance shattered in his hands. He could see it on Sirius’ face, all that confusion and fear mixed in with abrupt, sincere concern when James stood with a touch to his shoulder.

A tear slipped down James’ nose when he brushed past them. The whining turned to muddled clangs. What could he even say? I’m not gay? That wouldn’t help. The conversation had moved on; Leo had moved on, leading him forward to the plastic chairs by the bedside.

If he sat, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up fast enough when the feeling tiptoeing up behind him finally grabbed on. The world tipped a degree off its axis and he clenched the back of Leo’s chair in both hands. Remus’ backpack was a lonely black lump by the thin blanket someone had brought for him. Itchy. Everything in these places was itchy. It clung to Logan’s skin for days. He knew how it would feel to pillow his head with rough polyester. White caught his eye—a tag? Remus Lupin, #10, Varsity Hockey Harvard University.

Just a zipper. Tiny Nike logo.

Stitching on the front Tremblay #10

A patch. Clumsy hand-sewn stitches reinforced on the equipment room machine by an exasperated Molly. Remus loved that backpack.

Sirius was looking straight at him. “Il y a des morceaux.”

How could pieces be all that was left of three and a half years?

A pale face blurred with freckles and Logan blinked rapidly to shake them away. Leo needed this. Leo needed him to keep it together. He could do this.

He moved one hand over, until his fingertips brushed Finn’s sweater.

“You and I run plays after practice sometimes, if I’ve been having a tough time of things,” Leo said. His voice was significantly steadier than before. It was working. Logan could do this. He could help. “I don’t think you and Harzy hang out a lot one-on-one, but Lo’s usually your go-to for video games ‘n shit. We have dinner sometimes with you and—”

The air went stale fast enough to make him choke on it. Finn shifted in his chair.

Genuine puzzlement creased Sirius’ face. “I cook?”

He couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this.”

The door was a million miles away. He was gripping the handle in four steps. The dam was breaking, knocking the sight from his eyes. He braced both hands on cold cream paint, praying, praying that Remus was nowhere near.

Tears were a funny thing. He had never really figured out how to do them right—or at least, how to do them loudly, like when Noelle skinned her knee on the deck and screamed loud enough to make the neighbors come running. For Logan, it felt more like Leo’s beat-to-hell watering can, if the duct tape holding it together ever gave up. Everything kept in, and then everything rushing out at once. Breath and water and salt alike. Rarely noise, but he still pressed his elbow over his mouth and dug his hand into the frame of the bulletin board. Always, always, rawness to the marrow of his bones.

“Lo, oh my god.”

“I’m sorry.” A guttural sound died in his chest. “I tried.”

It was all he had. It would have to be enough. He just—he didn’t do head injuries. Broken fingers and busted ribs and jammed joints, fine, but he couldn’t fucking stand sitting and watching. There was only so much reading he could do. Only so many articles he could struggle through.

“Logan—”

“I’m sorry.”

Looking was a mistake. Finn’s face fell. “Hey, baby—”

“I’m sorry.” Logan sucked in a breath and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to force the tears back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Lo…”

Finn’s hand brushed between his shoulder blades and he flinched, turning away. The tears were fighting him now—fighting him so hard it made his throat ache. He could feel his pulse behind his eyes and ground his teeth. “No, no, no, no.”

“It’s okay.” Finn’s voice had gone soft and unsure and Logan hated himself. “Baby, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. It was never okay. Not like this.

“It’s okay.” He felt Finn move closer, but he didn’t try to touch again. “He’s awake now. He’s making sense.”

A jagged sound punctured Logan’s lung. “It doesn’t.”

“No, I…” Finn faltered. “He’ll be okay, baby. Come on, come sit down.”

Logan’s stomach fell to the floor. “No.”

“Can you—please give me something to work with, Logan, this isn’t—”

“I can’t sit down,” he said thickly. The light blinded him when he tilted his head back for a few harsh breaths. He wanted to cover his face, but his hands shook too bad to be any use. “I can’t just wait here, I’ve done that, I can’t do it again, I won’t.”

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t sit and wait, forbidden from crossing the threshold because he wasn’t family, even though nobody loved Finn like he did and nobody could take care of him like he could—

A shudder rattled through Logan and he sealed a palm over his mouth. The waves howled and clawed at every one of his hairline cracks.

“What’s going on?” Finn sounded sad. Not worry-sad, but different-sad. Confusion-and-guilt-sad.

Muck clogged Logan’s throat. He took a few hitching breaths to clear a path. “It’s Sirius,” he said. “And he’s hurt, and every time I fucking blink I see your face instead and I still can’t do a goddamn thing, Finn, I can’t…”

He leaned into Finn’s hovering hand and fell against his chest with a low noise, pulling at his arms until he was safe.

Finn was here in his sweater and his jeans and Logan was safe.

He couldn’t stop the hurricane. The throbbing and the drenching, out of control. He had let it run its course in Remus’ office, in his basement bedroom, and now here. With Finn. Finn who was safe and whole. Something ugly muffled itself in the broad chevrons across Finn’s neckline, but there was no flinch to meet him.

“Let it out.”

God, it hurt so bad.

“You’re doing great, baby.”

This wasn’t a cry-solution. This had to be a Heather-solution. Logan wasn’t looking forward to that.

Finn’s nose was cold where it dovetailed against Logan’s cheek. “Love you so much,” he whispered. “So, so much.”

The compression of his arms outstripped any weighted blanket by a landslide. Logan flattened his palm against the back of Finn’s neck. There was no energy left in him to keep down a whimper when he felt Finn stroke through the back of his hair and leave a kiss on his cheekbone.

“I’m—” Logan gulped down a fragile attempt at a breath. “I love—fuck shit—”

“Shh, shh, stop.”

“I tried.”

Finn’s gentle scritch to his nape silenced him. How long had they been swaying? Finn had a funny way of coaxing him into a dance before he even knew what was happening. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Jesus, Lo, I can’t even imagine.”

“It’s—it was Syd, and then it was you, and now it’s Sirius—” His breathing hitched on each name, as if unwilling to let him speak, but he was so tired of the silence. “—and what if I lost you, what if you forgot me, how could he forget us? Pieces, Finn, he said pieces.”

If he tried, he could probably stop. The duct tape could be slapped back on. Not perfectly, but he’d manage.

He didn’t really want to.

A gross, clogged sniffle made him feel a tiny bit better. “I’m always so fucking useless here.”

Finn was quiet for long enough that Logan could match their breathing. That, too, gentled the storm. The individual floor tiles were starting to reappear. “You helped me drink water for days,” Finn finally said. “You cooled me down. You slept next to me in a twin XL for—what, a week? You read every assignment, out loud, for two. You made Cap smile.” A sigh gusted over the back of his neck. “You’re not a doctor or anything, but I don’t think anyone can call you useless.”

“I can.”

“I’ve never been a fan of the way you talk to yourself, sweetheart.”

A problem for another day. “Leo?”

“They’re chilling. He’s just glad to be there, I think.”

Distance made him stress. Logan was familiar with the feeling. “You should go with him.”

“Hmm.”

“No, really. I’m feeling better.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you—are you okay?”

Finn took a big breath, let it go in an unsteady huff. “This is just…sad. And weird. And sad. I don’t know.”

Baby steps. One at a time. Finn was here and safe, Leo was right where he wanted to be, and Sirius wasn’t going anywhere fast. Let it out, Finn had said. God knew he was trying. He pried his hands off the back of Finn’s sweater and flexed them, pulled his elbows in until he could hold Finn’s waist. A three-count to lift his head, then a foiled attempt to dry his face before Finn got there. His sleeve took the salt and water before Logan could so much as raise a hand. Despite himself, he laughed.

Let me take care of you,” Finn said through falsely-gritted teeth, planting an aggressive kiss to Logan’s forehead. He surveyed him for a few seconds, head tilted, before his lower lip slid out. “Aw, baby.”

“I know,” Logan said thickly. “Not everyone can be a pretty crier like Knutty.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Still.”

“I don’t love you because you’re a pretty crier.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not.”

“Yeah, dipshit, I know.” Finn cuffed the outside of his shoulder and Logan dipped his chin against a smile. “I’m aw, baby-ing because you’re sad and I wanna go take you home and wrap you in a blanket.”

Logan sighed. His head fell forward to bump Finn’s collarbone. “I feel like an asshole.”

“Why?”

“Left you all in there.”

“Not sure anyone can blame you.”

“I can.”

“You don’t count.”

“Is Sirius mad at me?”

“Honest to god—and this is really fucking morbid, so like, mea culpa—I don’t think Sirius remembers enough to be mad at us.”

Logan’s lip quavered. “I got him sick.”

“Everybody got sick. You don’t know that it was you.”

Lo’s usually your go-to. “I spend the most time with him.”

“…pretty sure that’s Loops, actually.”

“Okay, well—”

“You’re not winning this one,” Finn interrupted. “Literally everyone on the team was sick at some point, and we saw each other every single day. You want to point fingers? Blame coach for playing Cap’s line that long.”

It was so hard to come up with a defense when Finn was always right. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here’s the plan.” Finn gave a little oof as he helped Logan straighten up and squished his shoulders. There was fine tension around his eyes and mouth that gave way when Logan ran his thumbs over it.  “I’m going back inside. You’re going to go find a bagel place for Dumo and Remus. I’ll text you when Knutty and I are done, we’ll figure out bagel dropoff, and then we’re going home and sleeping.” He must have seen Logan’s hesitation, because one auburn brow arched. “Cap’s awake. He’s not perfect, but he’s awake. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“I hate this.”

“Oh, yeah, this is terrible from every angle. Hence going home and sleeping.”

Logan nodded, then tipped his head toward the door. “Go see Le.”

Finn kissed him sweetly, a hand on his jaw, and obliged.


If Finn had been looking for a way to keep Logan occupied, tasking him with finding appropriate late-lunch/ early-dinner bagels was the way to do it. Gryff had dozens—half were closed by this hour, and the other half had to undergo rigorous inspection before Logan would even consider bringing them back to his Manhattan bagel hound of a boyfriend. Remus and Dumo would want coffee, too, even if they didn’t say it. Their respective husband and son was a previously-comatose amnesiac. He couldn’t bring them shitty coffee.

Finally, he found a promising option. Warm interior, short line, music quiet enough to tune out if he needed to. Display cases that were picked over (many customers), but not too empty (still some variety). A clean half-dozen should do.

The barista smiled when he approached the register, despite Logan’s certainly-red eyes and general crustiness. “Welcome in! What can I get started for you?”

“A half-dozen bagels, please. And two medium coffees, light cream, light sugar.”

“What kind of bagels?”

He hadn’t prepared for questions. Why hadn’t he prepared for questions? “Which ones are good?”

“What’s the occasion?”

“My—” Motherfucker. The tears snuck up on him, rushing to the front until he had to tip his head back with a frustrated breath. The barista’s hand hovered over the computer screen. Questions. He should have prepared for questions. There was a reason Finn always ordered for them. A strained, embarrassed smile was all he had to offer. “Desolé. My brother’s in the hospital.” His torso squeezed. “That’s the occasion.”

The barista seemed to freeze for a moment. “I’m…really sorry,” they finally said. “God. Wow. My bad.”

“It’s fine.” Logan shook his head. “Two plain, one sesame, one cheese, and two of the sandwich things, please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” The barista started to turn, then faced him again, lowering their voice to soft concern. “Do you have someone with you? I just—my cousin was sick, and it was hard to be there alone. If you needed help.”

“He’s awake,” Logan assured them. The next person in line had stepped back a half-meter, looking pointedly at their phone. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected. He watched the barista wrap the two plain bagels before he felt he could trust his voice again. “He’ll be okay.” It felt funny to say aloud. Different than reassuring Leo or Finn. More confident. “We’ve got family around. Friends. We’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” they said with sincerity he hadn’t prepared for, either. Each bagel was carefully placed in a paper bag; a large sticker held the edge down. The sides were warm when Logan pulled it to himself, and the coffee steamed in two balanced cups.

“How much do I owe you?”

They waved him off. “Please, don’t worry about it. Just…have a good day. Be with your brother.”

He sighed through his nose. “You can’t stop me from tipping you.”

“Oh—”

He stuffed two twenties in the painted mason jar by the register and stepped back immediately, tossing a half-smile to the barista. “Have a nice afternoon.”


I need to go. I really need to do this.

Logan hadn’t fought him on it. He was tired of fighting. And not against Leo—never against Leo. Finn knew New York best; the safest winter roads, the quickest routes. Logan was content to play homemaker and listen to their back-and-forth. He simply fixed two sandwiches and a baggie of snacks for the ride while they talked it out on the couch.

The roads’ll be dark.

I can drive in the dark, it’s not a problem.

I topped off the tank yesterday, but you should refill outside the city if you need to. There are more when you’re out of Manhattan. They’re easier to get to.

Thanks, sweetheart.

You’re going to be okay? Finn’s voice had been tight with worry. Logan wasn’t sure it was entirely about Leo driving. You’re—you know, you should stay here for tonight, we can all go pick him up early tomorrow.

The sound of their soft kiss made the house warm. I won’t be sleeping, Leo had said. I’ll keep you both up. He’s been texting all day and I don’t want to make him get on a train right now.

Logan had managed to tempt him to the couch with a cup of tea and an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Finn wasn’t far behind, and Leo dozed on his chest for the show’s second half. Thirty minutes could satisfy his worry if he stretched it. The adrenaline shakes had stopped an hour prior.

I don’t like this. Finn’s arms were tight around him while they watched Leo turn his headlights on and wave goodbye with a blown kiss. I don’t like this at all.

He’s a good driver.

I keep thinking…

I know. Did Logan ever. But it’s not us. So we’re here, and we’re helping.

Finn’s nose pushed into the crook of his neck; a deep breath made his stomach hurt.

We’re here, he had repeated, tangling a hand in the back of Finn’s hair. We’re safe. Je t’aime. I have a bagel place I want to show you in the morning.


“LoLo?”

“Hi.” Logan winced at the scratchiness of his own throat and glanced back down the hall, where Katie was just skipping back into Sirius’ room with Regulus in tow. “Hey, hi. What are you up to?”

“Um…folding my laundry, at the moment.” Silence fell over the phone. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. And you’re—you’re okay?”

“Wishing I didn’t have to do my laundry, but yes,” Sydney laughed.

His heart eased. “Bon. Good, okay.”

The sole of his shoe was starting to peel away from the toe. “What’s going on?” Sydney asked, quieter.

He shook his head before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Nothing, just wanted to talk.”

“Did something happen with Finn and Leo?”

“Non, we’re fine.” His stomach was shivery, like he’d gone too long without eating despite the sesame bagel lingering on his tongue. “Figured I’d call.”

“Black is still in the hospital, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“He’s awake?”

I remember you. Not everything, but I know you. “Up and talking. Making sense.”

Sydney hummed. He heard the light thump of a folded sock hitting her drawer. “He’ll be fine, petit. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I miss you,” he said quickly, before his mouth could force it all back. “I just—I miss you and I wanted to call.”

“Aw, LoLo.” Her sigh crackled in the hospital’s sketchy wifi. “I miss you, too. Christmas feels far this year.”

“Ouais.”

“You want me to get the girls on FaceTime?”

As if he could handle that right now. All three of them, scattered across a continent instead of safe in a pillow fort. “Non, it’s alright. I might…call, or something. I don’t know.”

This was stupid. He shouldn’t have interrupted her evening. But he so desperately needed to hear her voice after catching a sideways glimpse of Sirius’ dark hair from the open door.

“Take your time,” Sydney said easily. “I’m here all night, doing nothing. Have you heard from Obbie lately?”

“No, why?”

“She’s doing some sort of award gallery thing. Sounded neat. I’ll text you the link.”

“D’accord.” He could see her when he closed his eyes. Two loose braids to her shoulders, their father’s sharp jaw. Practiced hands flipping socks around each other, deft from gloving pucks. She had always poked and prodded and teased him more than the other two—a function of their close years—but had never once flaked when he reached out. He wasn’t sure how to thank her for that. He cleared his throat and heard it echo back to him. “You’ll call me, right? If you need things.”

“What would I need?”

“Just. I don’t know. Things.”

Her laugh was light, fond. “Yes, LoLo, I’ll call if I need things. Check your messages for the link.”

“I will.” He started to lower the phone, then brought it back to his ear. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

“See you at Christmas.” His lips felt shaky. “Or—whenever. If you’re around, or anything.”

“Goodbye, Logan,” she said slowly, though he could hear her smiling. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Take care. Give your boys my love.”

“I will.”

It was another five-count before either of them hung up.

Chapter 87: Miss a Little More

Summary:

PT Remus missing hockey

Chapter Text

It was hard to look at them, sometimes. The jerseys, the swagger, even their fucking flows—the stupid, silly things that shouldn’t bother him but they did. Even Sirius, who…well, Remus wouldn’t go so far as to say he could do no wrong, but he had his moments. When hockey slang would roll off his tongue so easily that it made Remus’ stomach clench, or when his voice would take on that particular up-and-down cadence of a well-placed chirp.

It was everything he could have been. Had been. Never would be again.

Remus worried the plastic edge of the page between his fingertips before flipping it. It had been seven years, eight in the fall. He should be over it by now. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his boyfriend so much he didn’t know what to do with it all. It would come bubbling up and pouring out in kisses or dinner or a hug that made his heart feel like it would burst, and Sirius would laugh, and squeeze him just as tight.

He was lucky, so lucky, and still so goddamn sad when he saw his reflection next to his friends. Remus Lupin, NHL prospect, felt like a fever dream. Remus Lupin, too little to take a hit, was not a look he had missed in the years since everything fell apart. The muscle didn’t matter. It was the way he held himself, the shine in his eyes. Bulking up was just a series of chemical reactions but there was nothing that could bring that dream back to what it used to be.

He needed to be okay with it, or he would lose everything he had scraped together into a handful of vital happiness. Once upon a time, Remus would have done anything to rewind the clock. It felt good to have something to lose, now.

So every morning, he got up. He made coffee and took a shower, changed into his uniform, caught the subway like a half-million other commuters. He greeted Moody and chatted with Talkie for as long as he could manage. The repetition had numbed him just right when he started working for the Lions. No room for dwelling on the past when it was tucked in a neat little box.

“Loops.”

“Loops.”

“Loops.”

“Loops.”

A new name, too. Blue Gatorade and fist bumps coming off the ice. Remus attended the world’s most painful masquerade party every day and didn’t regret a second of it. He made that mask—he owned it, it was his and only his. ‘Loops’ was gentle and warm and comforting. Loops didn’t cry himself to sleep because some sweaty jock asked if he knew what a ‘Michigan’ looked like. Loops smiled. Chirped him. Moved on.

Remus carved out a nook for himself and refused to acknowledge the part of him that remained on that locker room floor, seven years old and still fresh when he poked it.

He figured Sirius understood, in a sense. There was power in the knowing. A piece of Sirius would always be in a dark, gaunt house and so he got it in a way few others rarely did—in a way Remus rarely let others see. It would be enough for them both until they were ready to say more.

“Je t’aime,” Sirius would whisper in the dark like he thought Remus wouldn’t hear. He’d say it loud, too, but that particular crack of heartbreak was not something for loud voices. He’d say, “you’re so good to me” and “how could I deserve you?”, often with a smile but always with a little too much truth underneath. It was a dance they did; he never wanted it to end.

An eternity ago, he would have given anything to step foot on the ice for just five more minutes. Now, in his office with a new roster in-hand and a small picture of him and Sirius framed near the corner edge, he would give anything to keep exactly what he had built.

(Mostly.)

(Sort of.)

(Some dreams never really died.)

Chapter 88: Gnaw at the Bone

Summary:

Sirius and Regulus argue.

Chapter Text

“Sirius.”

“Reg.”

His stomach twisted. His head throbbed. His mouth tacked over, lips sticky, chapped, too much, not enough. Years of it. Stars in orbit, on a collision course with anything that came too close—their gravity was inescapable and destructive to the nth degree. They ruined everything but each other. That gravity would rub and chafe and grind at their rough surfaces and it made him sick to think about it.

Oh, it made him sick to think about it.


“Sirius.”

“Reg.”

And that was it—a clipped acknowledgment from scowling lips, then resignation. Regulus disappeared down the hall with his pasta. Sirius watched him go, shook his head, and headed in the opposite direction with a white-knuckled grip on his cup.

Alright then.

“Everything okay?” Pascal ventured.

Sirius jumped, his glower lifting for a moment in surprise, as if Pascal hadn’t been sitting there for over an hour. “What?”

Pascal tilted his head toward the empty doorway and set aside the broken toaster. “Everything okay?”

His mouth dipped in a grimace; his brow wrinkled like he was trying to find the weak link in a failing play, but something simmered beneath. “We’ll figure it out,” Sirius finally answered. “We’ll—it’s Reg, you know?”

Pascal didn’t know, actually, but Sirius was gone before he could ask for an elaboration. In fact, the only thing he knew for sure was that Regulus had gone through a period of rapid character development over the past nine months and that Sirius didn’t stop loving him for a single second of it, even through the snappish attitude, even through those horrible interviews that Regulus clearly regretted. They were two sides of the same coin with the unfortunate ability to be as evasive as greased weasels.

Celeste would say he was being nosy. Pascal preferred to think of it as a natural desire to engage with his kids as a loving, supportive parent.

He looked down at the toaster, then back up at the opposing doorways and sighed. It seemed some detective work was in order.


“Remus! How are you, mon ami?”

“I’m…good?” To his credit, Remus recovered quickly and offered a light fist bump in greeting. “What’s up?”

Pascal waved a vague hand. “The usual. House is good? Dog is healthy? Boyfriend is happy?”

Bingo. A shadow flickered over Remus’ face before it smoothed out into his usual neutral friendliness. “Yeah, we’re doing great. We were thinking of repainting the living room soon, so if there’s a day you want to borrow the dog, I’m all ears.”

“Parfait, I’ll let you know. And Regulus?”

There it was again—the tension, the twitch, the passive smile. “I think Sirius is just glad to have him home. It’s really been great getting to know him. He’s a sweet kid.”

He might be, but he’s been getting on your nerves, too. If Pascal knew anything, that would piss Sirius off more than any insult Regulus hurled his way. “I’m so glad to hear it. It’s good for them to be near each other right now.”

He clapped Remus on the shoulder and stood before the younger man could respond. It wasn’t just a one-time problem, then; whatever the seething, festering thing between Sirius and Regulus was, it had seeped into their everyday function. Enough that it had even begun annoying Remus ‘Patient’ Lupin. Pascal might not be able to fix their issue, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give them a nudge in the right direction.

Sirius was right where he left him, hunched on the bench with a whiteboard in hand, though his pen served more as a drumstick than a writing instrument as Pascal approached. The tip-tapping stopped when he ruffled Sirius’ hair and took the seat next to him. “Defense,” Sirius muttered by way of explanation. “There’s a gap. Tremzy’s a killer when he goes in for a shot, but we need to close his spot when he moves.”

Pascal hummed in agreement and propped his skates up on the boards, letting the battered wood take his weight and ease the ache. “Good eyes.”

“ ‘s what I get paid for.”

“You seem tense, mon fils.”

“Hmm?” Sirius blinked. His eye contact was pristine, but his attention was lightyears away. “Sorry, just thinking. Did you need something?”

Pascal offered a wry smile. “What, you’re too old to let me sit with you?”

The deep crease between Sirius’ brows smoothed out; he smiled softly. He blinked again; this time, a bit of him returned. Not beyond all hope of intervention, then. “Non. Desolé. I’m…I’m in my head today.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

A few seconds passed before Sirius nodded. Pascal watched his gaze go distant again and his cheek dimpled as he bit the flesh inside. Guilt. Perhaps frustration. A twisted mystery to solve, if Pascal had not been watching him so closely since he first blessed their threshold. It was Regulus, it was Remus and Regulus—

It was something from a time Sirius had been trying to lock down. Ghosts were hard to trap behind hasty boards, nailed haphazard and half-panicked. Sirius was better, not healed. He was safe, not exorcised. He was so goddamn brave it hurt to watch, but Pascal wasn’t foolish enough to miss the way he spooked. And Regulus was a good kid, but a fucking mess all the same.

(Privately, he questioned the decision to go headlong into university right after escaping 18 years of living hell. That was not his place to challenge and not his problem to solve.)

(But still. University? Really?)

Sirius made another note on his board. A canine tooth poked out as he worried at his lower lip. Pascal watched him fidget, hands up and over and under and between, and steadied himself with a slow exhale when Sirius began twirling his pen over his knuckles with a dull, rippling noise.

“Regulus is angry with me.”

Pascal made an impassive noise. It was Regulus.

“I think. Probably.” Sirius’ knee bounced for a five-count before going still. “He’s working through a lot. Finals were hard. It took him off-guard. He got snappy at Remus.”

Remus and Regulus. “Oh?”

“Something about changing his sheets. He didn’t like that we went in his room to clean while he was away.”

Something from a time you’ve been trying to lock down. Not mutually exclusive events, but a progression. Sirius was fixed on a far point, no longer tracking the movement of players. His hands had gone quiet.

“I think I—I think they—” Space hung between them like a bear trap. It was horrible to be right. Sirius exhaled hard and shook his head. “C’est pas grave.”

Pascal bit back his disappointment. He knew better than to think it would spill out so easily. He scooted closer on the bench, and when Sirius didn’t flinch, leaned over to bump him with a gentle shoulder. “Don’t let it eat you up, ouais? Regulus is grown. So are you. It will come in time.”

A halfhearted nod was the best he would get, it seemed. Pascal risked a soft squeeze to the back of Sirius’ neck and—there he was. The loosening of his tense shoulders, the careful lean into the contact. “We’ll talk,” Sirius said.

“Take it slow,” Pascal advised, and prayed to any god that Sirius would at least listen to that. Those who shoved their hands in the cage of a feral animal only came away bitten and rabid. For all his growth, Sirius was plenty feral without the influence of Regulus Black ripping him open again.

They watched the drills together in silence for forty-five minutes. When they were done, Sirius’ clipboard held only blank paper.


“Tuney and I were really close. As kids, I mean.”

A light, fluffy cloud passed overhead on the rushing breeze.

“We did everything together. Like, literally everything. Mom used to joke that we should’ve been twins.”

The pain in her voice was one he knew well.

“We started drifting when I hit junior high, I think.” A controlled, even breath followed the gentle sound of a dandelion being picked. A few bits of fluff floated in and out of view. “And then high school came around, and she hated my fucking guts. Shredded all my tights with a fork. Refused to look at me in the lunchroom. Mom and Dad didn’t tell her it was okay, but they didn’t stop her, either. They just kind of sat there and looked sympathetic.”

Quiet fell over them again. A strand of hair billowed over his vision for a half-second. Time for a haircut.

“I still don’t know what I did,” Lily confessed to the afternoon sun. “I still don’t think she’s forgiven me.”

Looking at Regulus now, Sirius thought he might finally understand what she meant.

The corner of Regulus’ mouth was turned down; not more than usual, but enough to be a scowl to anyone who knew where to look. Quietly, he hoped Regulus’ school friends could tell the difference. He deserved to have people like that. Sirius wasn’t sure he had explained that very well before sending him off. Or ever.

“It’s a good book,” he said.

Regulus made a noncommittal noise. He hadn’t turned a page since Sirius paused in the doorway.

Another try. Pull back to the midline, find an open corridor. “One of my favorites.”

“Je sais.”

“Why are you angry with me?”

Once upon a time, he would not have been so bold as to ask. Once upon a time, Regulus would have sunk further into his cocoon. One pale finger traced the edge of the worn paperback. “I’m not angry with you.”

You’re always a little angry with me. “You won’t look at me.”

“God forbid I’m busy.”

“You’re reading.”

“And I’m busy,” Regulus said waspishly. “Go get Remus to take you for a walk, or something.”

Maybe this was where Lily had failed. In one way or another, she and Petunia had missed each other in the middle. He could recall those six terrible, lonely years with too much clarity to let Regulus push him away. Losing him would never be worth an argument won. “I want to spend time with you.”

“Then get your own book.” Regulus muttered something else under his breath that Sirius didn’t care to look into.

He swallowed down a sigh and picked one at random off the shelf, then settled down on the couch opposite Regulus’ armchair. The words could have been in Portuguese, for all they registered in his mind. The edges were soft from many hands. It might have been Remus’, or from the secondhand bookstore in town. God, it could have been one of Sirius’ own favorites for all he knew. He was working on knowing more of those.

The color blue, but a specific shade.

Tater-tot casserole, preferably with meat, acceptable with just cheese.

Books with adventures, books he could run away in.

Poutine with extra gravy.

Henley shirts that stopped at his elbow.

Hoodies—not the zip-fronts—made of heavier fabric. The ones where Remus had fussed with the cuffs.

“What’s your book—”

The sudden snap of cover on page made him wince; an irritated grumble-sigh hung on its coattails as Regulus swept out of the room without a backward glance. Sirius’ stomach turned, and turned, and turned. He always fucked it up. He always tried too hard. He shut his book in silence and set it on the floor, and went to get his skates.


I’m not an infant. Bared teeth and clenched fists. A charge in the air, a snake ready to strike. And you are not my fucking mother.

Remus wrinkled his nose and scrubbed harder at the grout.

Nightmarish, is what it was. The summer had been sun-soaked and semi-charmed with only the awkwardness of getting-to-know-you’s to taint it. But that was Remus’ perfect wheelhouse—polite conversation, buttering up, small talk to ease Regulus into a world that wasn’t actively trying to shred him. It had all worked so well.

He didn’t know what went wrong. Worse, he didn’t know how to fix any of it. Regulus was constantly boiling with silent fury like a kettle about to blow and it was terrible. Every second Sirius and Regulus existed within each others’ eyeline was hell. And they were living together. For twelve more days.

If they all survived this, Remus was going to take himself out for a little treat. One that did not involve scrubbing the kitchen grout just to avoid running into either of the ticking time bombs.

Regulus’ hissing colliding with the low, furious timbre of Sirius’ voice was not something Remus wanted to experience again, in this life or the next. Nobody won. Everybody lost in one way or another. Sirius got angry and Regulus got angry and Sirius got defensive and Regulus got mean, flat-out and full-send. Sirius snapped back, Regulus stormed off, and Remus spent the better part of his night assuring Sirius he was not turning into his parents. Rinse, repeat, wish for death.

Commotion kicked up in the living room and went quiet in the same breath—Remus paused to watch Regulus stomp off with a book in one white-knuckled hand and listened carefully for the aftershocks.

The house inhaled with him. The office door closed hard. Sirius’ footsteps were rhythmic as a metronome all the way up the stairs and back down again—Remus bit his tongue when he saw the skates clenched in one hand—and remained that way until the basement door shut him out.

Then, and only then, did Remus let a quiet, “shit” slip through his teeth.


Pull back to the midline. Pull back to the midline. Watch, pull back, find your corridor, strike.

The puck skated past the goal without so much as a whisper of net. Sirius hardly heard it hit the boards.


Remus looked faintly ill when they arrived at practice; Pascal was grateful for the early warning to prepare himself for Sirius’ perma-scowl and overall vibe of ultimate distress. The change in the atmosphere nearly made his ears pop. Leo made a hasty retreat from the locker room after Kasey, looking as if he had taken psychic damage, and several others watched him leave with unbridled longing.

“On-ice in five,” Sirius said. Ordered. Everything about him looked incorrectly articulated. “We’re running drills, then doing dry lands.”

Not a soul dared to try the usual bitching and moaning. All cheerful conversation had met its abrupt end.

Cole lowered his head and slunk out the door like a stray bit of shadow. The rest of them followed suit within a minute or two, save for James, who steered Sirius into the ice room with a firm hand on his back.

Plastic buckles clinked softly in the empty space left. “They’re worse?”

Remus slumped forward and muffled a groan in both hands. “They’re going to fucking kill each other.”

“Any idea what happened?”

Remus spread his hands with a lost expression.

“Did this start when Regulus came home?”

“It’s just been the past three days.” Remus shook his head, leaning his elbows heavily on his knees with his pads half-done. “I can’t—Reg was fine when he got here. He was fine through Christmas. Sirius mentions we changed his sheets before he came home, and now he wants my head on a pike and my boyfriend to explode.”

Pascal picked at the peeling logo of his shorts. Sheets. What was so special about the sheets? “Were they new sheets?”

“Same ones he used all summer. I literally just washed them and put them back.”

“So…he didn’t like that you were in his space?” Remus half-shrugged, clearly frazzled by the mere memory. “You know, Adele hates it when we go into her room. Even to drop laundry off, or help her clean.”

“No, yeah, Jules is the same. That’s what started it.”

“Started…?” Understanding crept up his throat like battery acid. “He didn’t.”

“It was bad,” Remus said weakly.

“How bad?”

The laces of Remus’ skates dragged on the ground while he shuffled in his stall. The lines of his arms were rigid and upset; he scratched at the back of his wrist, curled over like he was trying to shield his middle. “His feet bled again.”

Pascal closed his eyes. He should have pushed harder against the basement rink eight years ago. He shouldn’t have let Sirius leave so soon.

He forgot, sometimes, how very alone Sirius had been.

“I fixed it,” Remus said after a minute. Of course you did. He sniffed, shaking his head like he could hear Pascal’s thoughts. “It wasn’t too bad. Blisters, mostly, some hotspots. Made him keep the bandaids on for practice. I hate—Dumo, I hate this. I hate living in it, I hate seeing them tear each other apart. It’s so quiet.”

“They need to stop,” Pascal agreed. Remus kept looking at him for—a solution, he realized. Terrible hope. Something desperate and fragile, a young man coming to a mentor for help he just…couldn’t give.

He looked away first. Remus’ exhale felt like a knife.


“It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, it’s me—”

“No, no, no,” Remus soothed somewhere in the catastrophe of the world.

Sirius spit, again, and pressed his hands over his eyes, again, and willed the bathroom floor to stop digging into his knees and just swallow him up already. His skin crawled and he wanted to scratch but he couldn’t take his hands away or the room would spin and tip him into nothingness.

Maybe he belonged there. But he had managed to hurt Regulus when he was a country away, so perhaps he wouldn’t even be safe in the ether.

Remus’ hand was cool on the small of his back as he frantically tried to keep his dinner down. He didn’t rub. He didn’t tap. He didn’t so much as twitch. Sirius listed to the side and flashed a hand out to steady himself. The pain of his wrist hitting the cabinet didn’t even register until Remus hissed in sympathy and took his weight in the bend of his arm.

“I am treating him just like they did,” Sirius rasped through the smoke pouring from inside him.

“No.” Remus was begging now. He sounded so tired. He was begging. The room swam in the kaleidoscope of suffering that he really should be used to by now, and Sirius pressed his elbows harder into the toilet seat as his ears began to ring.

You are not my mother.

Sirius gasped in a too-hot breath. It had been directed at Remus, not him. But.

But he was.

It was so sick and twisted and his stomach made sure to tell him that with a real-world example of both those words.

You are not my mother.

She wasn’t, either. Their nannies had come close. Sirius missed them sometimes (often) (aching) (with the hurt of a child).

Remus was not Regulus’ mother but he had been, in the same scream-worthy way he had been his father, too, and his brother. He couldn’t think too hard about how he had been the only one to cuddle Regulus without crying and fuck, there he went, Sirius the drama queen making the whole damn world about him.

“Okay, okay.” Arms came around him, easing the slicing pain of the sobs that caught him in fishhooks. The back of his hand hit the floor. His knees hurt like a bruise. His face was smushed against Remus’ chest and it really should have been uncomfortable. Remus made a noise of sympathy and gathered all the gross, slimy, bits of a Sirius-puddle into his arms because he was a saint. The patron saint of fucking messes, and Sirius was the messiest sinner of them all.

“I’m so horrible to him,” he sobbed, hitching and sticky. Probably incoherent. He mumbled. She hated it when he mumbled. “I’m so horrible.”

You are not my mother.

“It was me.” He gulped for air. Remus’ dizzying words fell quiet at the interruption. He added another note to his list of penance. “It was me, it was, I tried.”

“What did you try?” Remus’ fingertips brushed away a loose, sweaty lock and the sobs came harder after that, wracking him down to his organs, past the precious cradle of his ribs. A warm palm cupped the back of his head and Sirius heard a strangled noise interrupt his own endless babbling. He didn’t know he could make that sound. With the way his throat and body were angled against the unmovable pillar of Remus, though, it shouldn’t have surprised him.

“I was—I was his mother.” It was so hard to breathe through the gasping. “I didn’t know what I was doing but I was his mother but I won’t be her.”

“Oh, god.” Remus sounded weak for a saint. There went another beautiful thing, ruined in Sirius’ messy clumsy hands. And somehow, in the darkness, in the Blackness, a kiss nestled just near his temple.

He couldn’t help but go still, then limp, as all the fight and fear siphoned from his flooded lungs.

Remus breathed like he was going to speak several times before he did. “There are other ways.” His voice was heartbreak. Sirius closed his burning eyes. “Sirius—baby, you know my mom. You know Effie, and Celeste, and you know Lily.”

Lily. He knew Lily. Her green eyes, so much pain and regret. Don’t be like me, Pads. Her green eyes, the way she looked at Harry, the way they matched. Sirius had his mother’s eyes. Had she ever looked at him like that?

“There are other ways to be someone’s mother. And…” His hands stuttered, then began to move again, scritching the back of Sirius’ head. That feeling usually made him go comatose in their bed. “Regulus was trying to hurt me when he said that. You know that, right?”

I am not an infant. And you are not my fucking mother.

Remus kissed him again. The shell of his ear, this time. “It wasn’t about you. I promise.”

But it was. There on the bathroom floor, it was.


The woman was watching him with infuriating patience. Sometimes—more often than he cared to count—she would even look away to her clipboard or her phone, and that was even worse. Regulus knew how to be ignored. He fucking hated her nonchalant attention.

Either look at me and pay attention or ignore me properly, he thought with enough force that it should have beamed into her brain directly.

Heather chewed at the corner of her lip and checked her texts again.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask questions?” he finally muttered.

She looked up, milk-mild. “Are you ready to answer them?”

You can’t trick me that easily. “Are they worth my time?”

“I certainly think so.” She tilted her head back and forth for a moment. “But it’s not up to me to decide. That’s your choice.”

“So I can just walk out right now?”

“Sure.”

Regulus only let himself pause for a second before regaining his composure. “I’m pretty sure my brother would murder me if I did that.”

“Your brother didn’t set up this appointment.” A smile made her face even kinder, like a storybook bear. “And I’m not allowed to discuss my other patients’ homicidal tendencies. But yes, Mr. Black—”

“Don’t call me that or I’ll puke, I promise.”

“—yes, Regulus, you are welcome to leave whenever you feel like it. I can’t legally force you into therapy and I don’t particularly want to. If you would prefer to sit here quietly, we’ve still got twenty minutes left.”

He bit the inside of his cheek.

“I have a spare crossword,” she offered.

Gifts. Of course. What an awful woman. He plucked absently at the threads of the armrest and slouched into the too-squishy cushions.

Silence reigned supreme for another five minutes and twenty-four seconds before Heather stretched her wrists and smiled at him again. “It’s good to see you, Regulus.”

“You don’t have to say that,” he snorted.

“I know.”

“So don’t.”

“Alright.” She tapped the side of her thumb on her clipboard. “I’m glad you came back. Is that better?”

“Will you stop with the mind games, please?”

Heather’s eyes softened. His skin crawled. “Regulus, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in my office. I would vastly prefer it if you did something you enjoy with this time, rather than forcing yourself to come and sit there and be miserable. I’ll sit with you if you’d like, but it seems like that’s not helping.”

His lip curled against his will. “So Sirius told you I’m miserable?”

“I haven’t spoken to Sirius lately.”

“You should. He’s a disaster.” Ignore that I’m a screaming teenage trainwreck.

“If he gets in touch with me, I’ll happily make time.”

“He won’t,” Regulus informed her. He wondered if she would stop him. Was there a point where he was no longer allowed to talk about her other patients? He already felt pathetic enough for refusing to use any therapist except the one Sirius had vouched for.

Heather hummed. “Guess that’s for him to know, and for me to find out.”

Push push push push push— “He’s been a mess. He’s doing that implosion thing he does when I’m mean to him. It’s like he thinks everyone in the whole world depends on him to be happy, and the second they’re not, it’s his fault.”

“And have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Been mean to him?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been terrible.” Regulus frowned slightly and sat up. “You know I’m not a nice person, don’t you? You should know that before we start anything.”

Heather seemed interested, but not confused. Infuriating. “Okay.”

“Sirius is the nice one.”

“Okay.” She nodded for a moment. “Why is Sirius nice, but you’re not?”

“You’re not—” He bit his tongue. Being mean to Heather was not what he came here to do. Wasting his time with someone who didn’t understand was not the point of this. “Sirius would have been much happier as a suburban family’s well-loved dog. He’s good like that.”

“Okay.”

“I was ignored for three-quarters of my childhood and have half a dozen complexes and attachment issues because of it. I am not a nice person at all, and so I take it out on Sirius because—I don’t know, I think it’s supposed to feel good, since he had everything and then he left me.” She was still looking at him. Mild and kind. Was everyone in Gryffindor obtuse enough to think he was kidding? “Heather, I am telling you that I’m petty and mean and use my older brother as an emotional punching bag because our parents fucked us up. There is nothing you can say to help me.”

“Supposed to feel good?”

Regulus blinked. “Pardon?”

“You said it was ‘supposed to feel good’ when you’re mean to your brother.” Heather rested her head on her hand. He wasn’t sure when she had put her clipboard aside. “Does it feel good?”

“Oh my god, no,” Regulus laughed hoarsely. “No, it feels like I’m the worst person alive. Why does that change anything?”

I just wanted them to like me.

It hadn’t even been about love, in the end. He had given up on that. Forget about pride—that was a lost cause. But he had yearned to be liked, to have a smile turned on him like the ones he only remembered in blurry dreams between sleep and wakefulness. Their father had light crow’s feet by his eyes. They were probably deeper by now. Their love was never going to happen but it really would have been enough to simply be liked. Regulus had been bright enough to stop hanging on to them far sooner; oh, yes, he had always been the smart one.

Heather had seemed sad when he said that. Sirius hated making her sad.


Pascal thought he knew where the precipice was. He thought they had more time to reel that celestial disaster back from the brink before they tipped over it, clawing at each other for grip and for hurt. Looking back, he felt like an utter fool for thinking he could have stopped them.


You fucking liar!

“I wouldn’t lie to you!”

“Yes you would, you always do that!”

“I—” Sirius’ mouth snapped closed; his jaw ticked with tension. “I wouldn’t—”

“You do,” Regulus insisted angrily. “Our whole childhood, and now this. I won’t fall for it anymore.”

“I told you, I didn’t go through your things—”

“Stop it.”

“It was just changing the goddamn sheets—”

Stop it.”

“God forbid I want you to sleep on something clean!” Sirius shouted back.

Regulus flushed red, bright against his dark hair. “Don’t yell at me!”

“Are you—you started yelling first, you pain in the ass!”

“Oh, I’m just a pain in the ass now?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air with a furious noise and folded them at his nape, shaking his head. His stomach hurt and trembled. His throat was tight, and every swallow had to fight its way around an iron fist. The inside of his cheek was raw and tender from his teeth. “You’re fucking delusional.”

Remus straightened fast. “Woah—”

“I’m delusional?” Regulus laughed humorlessly, hysterically, all dry bonfire wit. “I’m delusional? I’m not the one that tried to start a brand-new family when the old one failed!”

The insides of his ribs were scorched black. “Don’t bring Remus into this—”

“I’m talking about him!” Regulus’ arm shot out. One pale, skeletal finger hovered in midair, an executioner’s axe. A hairline tremor shivered over his skin; his eyes gleamed.

Dumo had both hands on Sirius’ broken toaster, and both eyes locked on Regulus’ hand in shock.

“You had it all planned out, didn’t you?” Regulus’ face contorted. “From the second they called your name on the television. You were going to billet and you were going to go to him and fuck the rest of us, is that it?”

Sirius couldn’t feel his hands. I still don’t know what I did. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me. “Regulus, no.”

But Regulus just nodded, tears welling up despite the guillotine edge of his voice. “You did. And thank fuck for that, because then Logan came along and a brand-new brother just dropped himself in your lap without any effort at all. Your perfect parents, your perfect brother, your perfect, perfect life. How convenient.”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s not like that.”

But.

But it was. A little bit, it was. Dumo wasn’t his choice but he was Sirius’ escape. And Logan…Logan had been so alone, so afraid, so young, hiding under his baseball caps like Regulus used to hide under his toques. Sirius had caught too many sidelong glances of dark curls and bitten back the wrong name those first few months.

Regulus could smell it on him. Could read Sirius’ guilt like a child’s book. His eye twitched. “I told you not to lie.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sirius said hoarsely.

“I don’t care.”

“It was not my intent—”

Fuck your intent.”

Lightning spit up inside him and he choked it down, tasting iron as it went. “Will you let me speak? Or are you going to stand there and yell until you feel better?”

Regulus’ face turned blotchy with rage. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Then stop acting like a child,” he snapped back.

“You sound like—”

“Do not.”

Something burnt coated his tongue as the lightning licked off it in a whipcrack and sparked between them. Regulus looked away, fists balled tight against his sides.

Sirius let the burning out on a controlled breath. “Do not bring them into this,” he continued carefully, even as a scream built under his lungs, kicking its feet and howling. “Do not bring her into this. I am telling you right now that you will not like how it goes for you.”

Regulus’ mouth twisted, petulant and bitter. “You’re really going to threaten me? Now?”

“I don’t threaten, Regulus. I win.”

“Because everything is a competition,” he sneered.

“Because you know better than to start that fight.” Sirius caught his gaze and held it with clenched, snarling teeth. Regulus knew better. Always the smart one, always levelheaded. Regulus, the wordsmith, and Sirius, blowing up the ground he stood on as long as he didn’t come out on the bottom. Locked jaw or locked antlers, dragging them both over the canyon edge before any thought of retreat. He had shouted himself voiceless before bending to their father. A simple locked door couldn’t block the endless screaming matches from Regulus’ memory.

“This isn’t a tantrum,” Regulus said at last.

The slavering dog in Sirius’ head sat back and eased its hold. He jerked his chin. “Then get to the point.”

“You left.”

“I was always going to leave.”

Regulus flinched, but to his credit, kept going. “You replaced us. Me.”

“Logan was never you.” Logan, young and scared, but not Regulus. Never Regulus. It had only ever taken a moment for Sirius to right himself, and less than that to be buried alive in guilt.

Regulus stared at the kitchen table. His nailbeds were white where he clutched the back of a chair. They’d have to get more iron into him while he was home; Sirius didn’t trust the university food. “You never came back.”

“For holidays—”

“You never came back,” Regulus repeated, louder. He blinked fast a few times, inhaling sharply. “You were never there for more than a day or two. You’d go dead the second we sat down together. You never—you never came back.”

“Regulus, that house was going to kill me.”

It came out too soft for the weight of it in the room. Regulus closed his eyes and leaned forward, stretching his arms with an unsteady exhale. Sirius kept his focus despite the building sting in his eyes but he could feel Dumo’s gaze on his neck, could hear Remus’ short inhale. There was no coming back from this. Ever onward, clawing his way out of the depths.

“One way or another, it was,” he continued quietly. “So, no. I didn’t go back. I won’t.”

The blur of Regulus tilted his face toward the ceiling with another shaky breath, still blinking fruitlessly as drops of mirrored light slipped down his cheeks. “Then how—?” He broke off and cleared his throat hard enough to make Sirius wince. “How could you leave me there?”

“I didn’t want to.”

It meant nothing; they both knew that. It still felt right to get it out there.

“I thought you’d come back,” Regulus said. “I thought you’d try. Once—once you had your first paycheck, or something.”

It hurt so much more to hear old, broken hope than anger. “They knew where I lived.”

“Then we’d move.” We. A child’s daydream. They made me hate you, but I never did. A phone number memorized for six and a half years. “We’d go somewhere else.” Regulus ran his sleeve under his nose and shook his head. “I was so alone. I don’t—” He looked up and immediately, his lip curled in disgust. “Oh, god, don’t look at me like that.”

“Reg—”

“Like a fucking puppy, merde.” He yanked his sleeves down over his hands and scrubbed viciously at his face, lingering over his eyes a second longer before letting them dangle at his sides again. He sniffled, then did a double-take when he saw Remus and Dumo on the other side of the room. “Why are you still here?”

“Um.” Remus glanced over at Sirius, but he had nothing to offer. “It…felt wrong to leave.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, though the effect was dampened by his red cheeks and slight pout. “You are all so codependent.”

“Don’t be mean,” Sirius chided instinctively.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Regulus gave him a quick up-and-down look. “We’re both ugly criers. Shit. Yell at me again.”

“…no?”

“Just do it, it’ll make me feel better.”

“I’m not going to yell at you.”

“Don’t make me insult you more. My throat hurts.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“No.” They stood in silence for another fifteen seconds. Wool socks scuffed on the floor. Regulus gnawed at the inside of his lip, then stepped around the side of the table an inch. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

He was over six feet tall, now. His hockey muscle had yet to fade. He felt—

Small. He felt safe. A shudder ran down his aching back. It had been so long since he felt safe.

“Desolé.” Sirius’ voice vibrated in the burrow of his chest and Regulus pressed his face to it as hard as he could. “Desolé, mon etoile.”

Tears snuck up on him in bursts; he pushed closer, closer, tucking his arms between them and shuffling forward until he could stand on the front of Sirius’ stupid slippers and let the cold floor fall away. He was tired of drowning, but it was hard to remember how to let the water out.

Sirius sniffed above him. The kiss to the top of his head was more of a hard bump than anything else. His arms were tight and warm around Regulus’ back, one palm cupping the back of his head. “I never forgot you.”

“Je sais,” Regulus croaked back.

“I never forgot you.”

Don’t, don’t, don’t. He coughed to clear the brackish muck from his lungs. He wasn’t pretty like this, and he knew it. But neither was Sirius, so maybe that was okay. Just this once. He could be held like a child, just this once. It was a long time before they spoke again.

“I don’t want to see Heather anymore.” He breathed in Sirius’ laundry soap and the same deodorant they had both been wearing for years. The rushing flood in his head had become a stream, had become a trickle. His heartbeat pulsed behind his eye. “I want—I want to see someone else.”

Sirius’ shoulders relaxed enough that he could feel each muscle release. “Good.”

“I still haven’t told my friends about—the everything.” He felt Sirius nod and gathered two fistfuls of his hoodie. “I want to stay at school.”

“D’accord.”

“What if they find out?” He held on tighter, pressed his face to Sirius’ calm heart. “What happens when they find out how horrible I am?”

Sirius huffed. “You’re not horrible.”

“I am.” That was the deal. He was the villain so Sirius could be the hero. He was the junkyard. Spare parts to be hosed off and trotted out when they needed him.

“Regulus, you’re nineteen.”

He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everyone’s horrible at nineteen.”

“What if I’m…” He wracked his brain for something smart. It blew a raspberry at him and fucked off back to sleep. “…extra horrible?”

Sirius sighed, scratching lightly behind his ears. Regulus felt his eyelids droop against his will. “If you turn out to be extra horrible by—I don’t know, 21, we’ll talk.”

“What if they fucked us both up too bad?”

He winced—Sirius’ steady motions stuttered briefly. He hadn’t meant to let that one slither out from its careful cage. That was a thought for sleepless nights in a cold hotel bed and watching the sun rise in a strange city through dry, tired eyes. When his hands were blistered and bleeding, he’d wonder whether that Black blood could ever really be gone from him.

Sirius’ head was a gentle pressure on his own. “Then it’s us against the world, isn’t it?”


Gryffindor airport was quiet at 7 in the morning. Dumo stifled a yawn in the back of his hand as he passed the rolling suitcase to a boy that was far too awake for the early hour, in his opinion. Youths.

“You have everything?” Sirius checked. “You’ll be safe?”

“I’m literally fine.” Regulus arched a brow. “And less than four hours away, if you speed.”

“You’ll call when you land.”

“I’ll text.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “If you don’t, I’m filing a missing person report.”

Regulus turned to Remus. “Can you keep him on a leash? Or just sedate him?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Remus laughed.

Sirius fixed them both with a weak scowl. “Will you just get on the plane?”

“I thought you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you—” Sirius took Regulus by the shoulders and turned him around with a firm grip. “—to have fun and live life and not die. The bar is on the ground. Do not dig under it.”

“Killjoy.”

“Pest.” Sirius kissed the top of his head. “Fly safe. Text.”

“Wait until I’m on the place before you start crying. I don’t want your gross emotions all over me.”

“Well, we can’t disturb your delicate sensibilities.”

“Sirius?”

“Reg.”

Regulus paused, laden with his duffel and rolling bag, and kicked the toe of Sirius’ sneaker lightly. “Love you.”

Sirius’ smile was close-lipped and small and brighter than the rising sun outside the massive bay windows. He kicked him back, even more gently. “Get on your plane.”

Chapter 89: Ritual

Summary:

Sirius' anxiety and superstitions

Chapter Text

“It’s okay.”

It’s not okay.

“Baby, it’s okay.”

I’m not—

“Just hold onto me. You can do this.”

Sirius gasped for breath, his chest aching and vision sputtering. His neck burned with an itch he needed to scratch, but one hand was still locked tight around cold fingers and the other was paralyzed next to him. The itch spread to his collarbones, his ears, his chest, his knuckles hurt from the tension he was going to break, shatter right into a million pieces if he couldn’t get one more fucking breath.

“One more deep breath.” Some strangled noise tried and failed to escape him. The gentle hold at the nape of his neck pulsed. “For me, baby. Try one more for me.”

That wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair to ask that of him, Remus you know better— “Non,” Sirius choked out around his leaden tongue. The shivering wouldn’t stop, his body frozen as the air from the open window cooled the sweat drenching him. Blackness crept in.

“One more.” Remus shifted, pressing their foreheads together harder. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve gotta try one more.”

Left skate, right skate, tap-tap-tap-check, tap-nametag-stall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, out.

Left skate, right skate, taptaptapcheck, tapnametagstall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, out.

Leftskaterightskatetaptaptapchecktapnametagstall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, out.

His stomach flipped and he clenched his eyes shut, his jaw, his fists, anything to stop the jerk of his body. Remus made a soothing noise; there was a hand between his shoulder blades. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. A forced inhale through his nose would have to be enough.

Fucking pharmacy, closing early. Fucking doctors, inputting the wrong pill count. Leo fucking Knut, putting everything off schedule because he needed an extra run that damn bad.

Sirius’ own horrible, useless brain, unable to function without a perfect routine. Heather had promised he was getting better. She promised.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Remus Lupin, lying to his face because nobody in the world could be proud of a shaking wreck.

“Non.” His voice broke. He didn’t loosen his grip on Remus’ threadbare sleeves.

Remus’ thumb pressed into the divot at the base of his skull and another tremor rocked through him. “I am,” he said into the space between them. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re doing great. You’re almost done.”

A sob became a wheeze halfway out of his throbbing lungs and Sirius clung to him, moving to push his face into the folds of his hoodie. There was one hand clasped between them. The other pressed tight to Sirius’ neck, firm and reassuring. There were no guesses with Remus. No surprises to fear.

Left skate, right skate, three taps check, tap nametag stall, water, jersey, walk, bumps, knock, out.

All of this, the trembling and the crying and the nausea, for a knock on the doorframe. A single superstition in the sea of nonsense his hockey brain convinced him was necessary.

His ears rang as the world shuddered into focus again, blurry even as he blinked. There was the floor. The rug they had picked out together. Remus’ knee, red from kneeling and knobbly. His own skewed legs, denim-clad and stretching out to his ankles, then his socks, those stupid pufferfish-covered things from last year’s Christmas party.

Sirius exhaled.

Great job,” Remus breathed. “That was so good, baby.”

Inhale. His torso hurt like he had a stitch in it.

Exhale.

“Hey, there you go,” came the half-laugh, dripping with relief as Sirius stared at one of the colorful fish by his heel. Six spines. Two fins. One eye. Remus rubbed between his shoulders and gave the back of his neck another squeeze.

He gulped down another breath. His knuckles were rusted over, a lost cause, but he could wiggle his toes again. Progress.

Sirius made a disgruntled noise when he tried to move and pain shot up one hip. “Am I holding you too tight?” Remus asked. He shook his head. “Do you want me to move?”

Oh, no, Sirius wasn’t sure he would remain a solid person if Remus budged an inch. He pushed his face deeper into the bend of his neck in a silent request and felt Remus relax, his fingertips sliding along the curve of Sirius’ spine.

Remus inhaled like he was about to speak, then let it out long and slow. Sirius didn’t know what he was going to ask. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. There was too much rawness that he wished could stay in the dark.

“How long has it been?”

Sirius’ shoulders slumped. “Deux jours.”

“Oh, Pads.” It sounded like his heart was breaking.

“I can get them tomorrow. A refill. I called.” His thoughts felt too fragmented in his head, but hopefully Remus would be able to put it together. Sirius had been so grateful that the phone call hadn’t sent him spiraling before practice. It felt like forever since he hung up with clammy hands. “They—they didn’t give me the right number. The one on la bouteille.”

“Really?” There was an edge to Remus’ voice and Sirius’ stomach sank; he pulled him in closer by the fistfuls of hoodie he couldn’t bear to release, nuzzling into the worn edge where it smelled most like Remus, soapy and minty and something sharp like arnica.

“I should have checked,” he croaked, clearing his throat. “Desolé.”

“What? Oh, no, I’m—" Remus gathered him closer, one knee sliding out of Sirius’ view to bracket him. “I’m not mad at you. God, no. I’m mad that your doctors can’t fucking count.”

“I should have checked.” It all wound up being Sirius’ fault, at the end of the day.

Remus slowly rested his weight on his heels; Sirius mourned the loss until lips brushed his stubbled cheek. “It’s not your job to check,” Remus said. He tucked a strand of Sirius’ hair behind his ear and cupped one side of his face, drawing him gently from his hiding place. From the little Sirius could see in his peripheral vision, Remus’ expression was nothing but kind. “They need to make sure you have the right medication. That’s what they get paid to do. This is not your fault.”

Sirius swallowed hard. He pulled his aching legs to his chest and rested his chin on top, then let himself ease into Remus’ chest. Instantly, Remus’ arms came up around him. “I…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I feel awful.”

“Cuddle?”

“Ouais.” He slid a hand under Remus’ shirt, just for some contact. “And a shower?”

The answering kiss to his temple almost made him smile. “I’ll wash your hair.”

Chapter 90: Balm

Summary:

Remus and Hope in the hospital

Chapter Text

The faint sound of plastic wheels on linoleum rattled through the door. There was the squeaky, bubbling laugh that only a five-year-old could muster; the wheels rattled again, returning from the end of their path to the timbre of a gentle voice. The lights inside were dim and Hope was grateful.

Julian rolled his toy across the hall floor again and Lyall chuckled, making some comment that was lost to the thick door. Voices hummed like the wings of bees in a hive, interrupted now and then by the ping of a PA system or the tchack-tchuck of crisp cart wheels going past. Remus was doing an awfully good job of pretending to sleep.

Today was hard. They had arrived early—so early, if there was a God up there she prayed she would never have to coerce a toddler into the car before sunrise again—and waited for long enough that she began to resent the asscrack-of-dawn appointment. Jules passed the time dozing in Remus’ lap; small miracles. When the doctor finally arrived, she read an Eye Spy book with him while Lyall and Remus went in for the debrief, both too tense around the shoulders. They had all been too tense lately. It made her sick to think about shoulders for too long.

Two weeks of silence had begun clotting between them and sticking to the corners of the house. Hope didn’t like hospitals much, never had, but she was just glad to be able to breathe. Dislocation and multiple muscle tears, they had said. Get to the doctor within the month, or you’ll run the risk of severe infection. Festering. Shredded. Damaged. All those words, and none of the truth.

Hope looked down at the hand laying limp in her own. Freckled. Strong. Determined. That was her son. That was the truth. The doctors always seemed to overlook his kindness, his gentle heart, his unending courage—they never wanted to just listen for two seconds. Maybe Remus would have told them what happened, then. Maybe he would finally speak up because Hope might not be a doctor but she knew for damn sure that an injury like that didn’t come from a stray hit, and not a single person cared to look further.

She would have done it herself, if she had the time. But she didn’t. She just didn’t. There wasn’t enough Hope Howell to go around.

“Remus.” Her voice stuck in her throat and she coughed lightly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Re, baby.”

He remained quiet and motionless, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest under the blankets. They only let him have pudding in the hospital, some fakey vanilla nonsense that smelled like plastic, and the antibiotics had brutalized his appetite—he was too skinny, now. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit the inside of her lip, looking to the ceiling until she was sure they wouldn’t fall.

“Come on, trooper, let’s get some water in you.” She squeezed his hand again, tighter. “You don’t have to sit up or anything. Dad and Jules are in the hallway. Just—just have a drink and then you can go back to sleep, okay?”

No response. Something warm slid down her cheek and she wiped it away on her sleeve. It wouldn’t do any good to cry right now. She had done enough of that earlier, when Remus couldn’t regulate his breathing by himself and the nurse asked her to hold his hand while they put the anesthesia mask over him. Hope didn’t plan on dying anytime soon, but she knew she would never forget the look on his face as long as she lived. Clammy and shaky, wide-eyed until the medicine kicked in and his lids slipped down into something almost restful if his brow hadn’t been creased so deep. It was the stuff of unimaginable nightmares. They told her he slept through the whole thing, all three grueling hours.

Two pins and an immeasurable number of stitches later, he still thought he could fool her.

There was no sense in wasting her energy to push down her emotions anymore. Remus had to know it was alright to feel them, and to let them go. Hope sniffled and watched one drip onto her jeans. “I know you’re awake,” she said quietly. “I know you’re probably feeling sick and awful but I am so proud of you, sweet pea.”

The blanket hitched.

“I’m so proud of you,” she repeated, voice wobbling. “You did so good. And I promise I’m not going to grill you about anything, I just want you to drink some water, if you want me to tell Dad you’re still asleep that’s fine—”

A low, broken sound cracked her somewhere deep, beyond her heart and lungs. When she leaned over in an awkward hug, Remus didn’t try to pull away like he had since that night, didn’t do anything but grip her cardigan with his good hand while half-breathless sobs wracked his body.

“I know.” She pressed a kiss to his sweaty hair. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t.” Remus sucked in air like a fish on land; she could hear it catching somewhere too shallow for it to do any good and held him closer. “Momma you don’t ‘n’ I’m sorry but I can’t.”

“Why not?” She closed her eyes tight enough to ache. “Re, baby, you’ve gotta tell me or I can’t help you.”

“The hit—the hit—”

“Please don’t bullshit me.” She sounded frail to her own ears. “Don’t tell me it was the hit, Remus, your dad and I both know that’s not true—”

The next sob was louder and she winced in sympathy at the seizing of his chest. “It was, it was—”

No.” She sat up just enough to see him, though Remus’ hold on her didn’t loosen by a bit. His face was blotchy and streaked with salt tracks, lips white at the edges from trying to keep it all in. He was Remus, age five, with a red mark on his forehead from a doorknob. He was Remus, age eight, split-lipped and bruised after going head over heels over his bike handlebars. He was Remus, age 14, roughed-up from his first hockey fight once the adrenaline faded and he was just scared and in pain.

Hope gently pried him off her sweater and held his hand in both of her own. A deep breath eased her headache by a degree, but nothing could stop the heartache watching Remus choke down his tears again, and again, and again. There was something darker in his eyes. Something more than fear and hurt. It was where his sobs kept catching and his breath couldn’t get through. Part of Remus had died that night, she knew that much, but this cesspool of abject terror was something he hadn’t let them see yet.

“I won’t ask for details.” Please, please tell me or I’m never going to sleep again. Remus watched her like a wary deer and somehow that hurt even more. “I won’t. I promise. You can tell Dad and ask him not to share with me if you want. But I need to ask you one thing, Remus, and I need you to be honest.”

His throat bobbed. He sniffed, though it didn’t do much. His left arm was bound tight to his body and it took a second for him to shift up on the pillows. He nodded.

“Did this happen during the hit?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he shook his head, lashes clumping with fresh tears that spilled over and down toward his ears. Hope let out an unsteady exhale and bent to hug him again.

Sitting there in the plastic chair, back aching, holding her son who had done nothing to deserve anything but the best in life, Hope found that she couldn’t wish death on whoever did this. Death was too good for them. Too light of a punishment. She wanted their life razed and salted and burned until nothing could grow there again and when their time was finally up, she wanted them to pass on with nobody at their side.

In a sense, it was a good thing Lyall was still keeping Jules entertained for the millionth hour, bless his sweet soul. If he had been there for Remus’ confession, the person who did this to their son would be six feet underground before the day was up.

Remus had quieted, resigned to sniffling and the occasional tremor. Hope brushed his hair off his feverish forehead and wiped his tears with the corner of the blanket. “Thank you,” she said at last.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Remus rasped.

“Yes, you can.” She met his gaze, holding strong under the shattered thing staring back at her. “And you will. It’s alright if it takes time. You and me and your dad and Jules are going to get through this, Remus. Step by step. This is not the end of the world.”

Later, when she looked through the window while Jules finished his snack in her lap and saw Lyall holding Remus like his lanky body could shield them both from the world, it almost felt like a beginning.

Chapter 91: Scary Movie

Summary:

Finn's sick day on Halloween

Chapter Text

“You c’n go without me,” came a mumble from the pile of soft things on the couch. A sniffle followed. “I don’t mind.”

Leo sighed, easing himself into the space left over with a rub to the nearest socked foot. One sad, glassy eye peeked out from the depths of his own hoodie. “Harz…”

“S’okay, really,” Finn continued. “The party’ll be fun. I’ll be okay here.”

“We’re not leaving you alone like this.”

“I’m a big kid, I can—” A squeaky yawn interrupted him. “—handle it.”

“You don’t have to, though,” Leo said gently. They had been at it all afternoon, neither he nor Logan able to talk sense into a groggy and unhappy Finn. It had taken them long enough to lovingly bully him into letting them help once he realized he couldn’t get out of bed without wobbling—a headache had followed, then sniffles and a nasty cough, and by noon he finally gave in. The couch had been designated the ‘Sick Zone’. Finn alternated between naps and looking pathetic for the next six hours.

He fumbled for a tissue and blew his nose; Leo didn’t miss the wince that twitched at his shoulders and made a mental note to herd him into a hot shower as soon as possible. “I’m not exactly exciting right now.”

“And?”

“And so you should go to the—”

No, Finn.”

“Go to the party!” he insisted, taking Leo’s hand in one of his clammy ones. “I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to sit here and worry over me when everyone else is having fun. They’ll miss you, Le.”

“And we would miss you.” Leo squeezed his hand. It felt warmer than before—too warm. He pushed down his worry and ran a thumb over the shadows beneath Finn’s eye. “I like you even when you’re not exciting, cher.”

The front door opened with a creak and they both looked up as Logan entered with an armful of grocery bags. His nose wrinkled. “Who closed the window? It’s—étouffant, you’ll stay sick if you don’t get air in here.”

“Finn was cold.” Leo leaned up for a kiss when Logan passed and saw him soften, looking between them on the couch. He made a small noise of agreement into Leo’s lips, then moved over to brush Finn’s hair off his forehead and leave a kiss in its wake.

“You’re hot, mon rouge.”

Finn cracked a smile. “Always am.”

Logan tsked at him, but the pass of his hand over the back of Finn’s head was gentle when he moved back to the kitchen. “I got your vegetables, Knutty, but I wasn’t sure what makes a medium onion different than regular ones.”

Leo blinked. “Are they…medium-sized?”

“That’s what I’m saying, I don’t know.” Several things clattered before Logan reappeared with two onions. “Is this medium? There were bigger ones and smaller ones.”

“How many onions did you buy?”

“Twelve.”

Leo laughed and started to get up, then paused and tucked Finn tighter under the blanket. “Don’t move.”

Finn gave him a rueful smile. “Can’t.”

“Shift change,” Leo teased, taking the onions from Logan.

A tug at his elbow stopped him just before he turned into the kitchen. “How long has he been that warm?” Logan asked, so quiet Leo could hardly hear him.

His heart sank. “Not sure. He wasn’t like that when you left, so I’d guess ten to fifteen minutes.”

Logan frowned. “Is he still talking bullshit about us going to the Halloween party?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty out of it, though.” Leo touched the fine bones of his wrist and smiled. “Thanks for going to the store, baby.”

Some of Logan’s worry lifted away into a pleased blush. “De rien, mon amour. Your food is always worth it.”

By 8 pm, Leo’s flu suspicions were confirmed in everything but a clinical diagnosis. Finn had given up on trying to convince them to have fun without him, laying his head in Logan’s lap or curling up tight against Leo’s ribs despite his feverish forehead. He dozed until dinner, managed to keep down a bowl of soup, and mustered just enough energy to argue with Logan as the evening’s entertainment.

I’m not going to throw up.

You look like you are.

No.

Just do it, you’ll feel better.

I would rather die.

He slept for 45 minutes to recover from such a harrowing conversation and did not—much to Logan’s annoyance—do the one thing that would make him feel better faster. Finn’s stubbornness, while rare, was damn near impossible to overcome. Leo was just grateful he took a hot shower with little cajoling, even if it meant he looked like the world’s cutest boiled lobster on the other side of it. The sides of his nose were starting to chap from the tissues. Better to nip that in the bud than deal with it for the next week and a half.

Finally, they settled on the couch and let the sounds of the TV fill the apartment. Leo could hear Finn breathing softly through his mouth while Logan combed his fingers through mostly-dry hair and rubbed Finn’s back at the same time. He pulled the edge of the blanket down over Finn’s feet and relaxed into the couch, exhausted. “Dumo sends well-wishes, by the way. Celeste wants to bring over some soup tomorrow.”

Finn made a quiet sound of acknowledgement; Logan cast him a smile that made Leo’s heart warm, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “Merci.”

“Boys?”

Leo’s sleepiness vanished in an instant and he sat up straighter, bending slightly to see Finn’s flushed face. “Hey, sweetheart, do you need something?”

He shook his head and shrugged the blanket up over his shoulder. “Can we—can we watch a scary movie?”

Leo looked over to Logan, whose face had fallen into something like distress. He raised a brow; Logan hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, ‘course we can,” Leo said. “Which one?”

“Don’t care.” One hand appeared to pat Logan’s knee. “You don’t have to stay for it. I know you don’t like them.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Logan promised with a kiss to the shell of Finn’s ear. “What kind of boyfriend would I be, eh? Leaving you when you’re sick. It hasn’t happened before and it won’t happen now.”

The faint sound of chaste kisses filled the background while Leo scrolled through the ‘Horror’ section. If he guessed correctly, Finn would be out cold in less than twenty minutes, and then they could change the show to something that wouldn’t petrify Logan for the next month. He didn’t have much of an opinion on scary movies, but that was one of the trials nobody warned him about when he got two boyfriends: movie night was like a judicial negotiation.

“Thank you for staying.” Finn’s voice was nearly inaudible against the opening music. “Both of you. This isn’t how you planned on spending the night, and you worked really hard to put together our costumes, so. You know. Thanks. And sorry.”

Finn,” they chorused with equal degrees of heartbreak.

Leo pulled on the hem of his pajama pants until Finn looked back at him, altogether too drowsy and adorable for his own good. “If we had gone to that party, we’d spend the whole night worried about you because we care that you’re safe and healthy. Getting you Gatorade and making soup is what I wanted to do. It’s what we get to do for you, now.”

Finn still didn’t look convinced, but Logan moved his hand around to tip his chin up. “It’s not because you can’t take care of yourself,” he said quietly. “It’s because you don’t have to.”

It was a good thing Logan had guided Finn’s gaze away; Leo wasn’t sure he could have handled seeing whatever expression came across his face at that. The caving of Finn’s chest and the full-body tremor that went through him was enough to make his breath catch. “I know,” Finn rasped after a few moments. “God, sorry, I—yeah, I know. I’m working on it.”

“We know.” Leo folded a hand over his ankle, just for a point of contact. “I mean, yeah, I wish we could’ve gone because you’d look hot as Ferris Bueller and I desperately want to see Lo in a fringed jacket someday. But I’m not sad about staying in and watching movies, either. This is fun. Spending time with you two is what I want.”

Finn took a tissue from Logan and blew his nose with a miserable honk. “You never have been good at picking one or the other, huh?”

“Not once,” he laughed.

“Worked pretty well, though,” Logan noted. “I’m not complaining.”

“Choices are for chumps,” Finn agreed. It was good to see him smile. The moment was only ruined a little by a sudden, violent axe-murder occurring on the television—Leo counted them lucky that Logan didn’t launch their sick boyfriend off his lap with the force of his flinch.

“Can we please just watch Halloweentown?” he begged, clutching Finn’s shoulder and arm while Finn cackled himself into a coughing fit. “Or Casper? I’ll put up with Beetlejuice, I don’t care.”

“How about The Exorcist?” Finn suggested.

“I was thinking The Conjuring,” Leo added.

A flush rose to Logan’s cheeks and he leaned over to whack Leo on the arm with a pillow. “See if I ever buy you onions again, you ungrateful, evil, horrible—”

Chapter 92: Mercury in the Microwave

Summary:

Big storm + power outage = emotional healing

Chapter Text

There was something in the water. Remus was sure of it.

“Put—stop it! Put it down!”

Maybe carbon monoxide was leaking into the rink. Plus all of their houses and apartments.

“I told you, it’s not about the rutabaga.”

Or, fuck it, Mercury was in the microwave again. In the Gatorade? Something like that. He wondered if Marlene would know.

Arthur knocked on the doorframe and the mass of grumbling died down; the air still tasted like sour sweat and irritation and Remus wrinkled his nose at the mats. After a cursory look around the room, Arthur raised a brow and gestured with his clipboard. “Y’know, I’ve got a lot of notes—a lot of notes—but none of you look like you can handle them right now, so we’re doing the short version. Cap, come see me. Lupin, Moody’s waiting for you, don’t give me that face. Olli, figure your shit out. Kuns…Kuns.” He shook his head. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Tremzy, stop being mean, and Harz, stop being stupid. Bliz, Layla gets the honor of having you this afternoon. Do your cooldowns without biting each others’ heads off, please, and then go home and sleep this off. Goodnight.”

“Night, Coach,” came the mumbled chorus.

Remus chewed the inside of his lip while he stripped his shin pads off. Sirius was already halfway out the door, still in his under armor—the rush of endorphins that usually accompanied the sight of his gorgeous fiancé was notably absent. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Recenter. It was a rough day, rough week, rough whatever. It would be best to just let it go now.

A hand clapped his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus!

“Woah, hey, easy.” Talker held both hands low, palms down between their stalls. “Just saying hi.”

“What—” Breathe. Recenter. Remus blinked a few times to clear his head. “Fuck, no, you’re good. Sorry. Hi. Sorry.”

Talker’s gaze turned dark with worry. “You okay?”

“Just…in my head.” It was a shit answer, but his vague wave seemed to get the point across. Talker nodded slowly. His hands remained on his own side. “You?”

“Been better, been worse.” He tipped his head back and forth, making his small earring swing. A gift from Noelle, if Remus remembered correctly. He watched it catch the fluorescent light for a few seconds before Talker spoke again. “Weird energy in here.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Remus turned back to his pads with a humorless laugh. “No kidding. We should crack a window or something.”

Talker hummed, tucking his hands beneath himself. One knee bounced incessantly and Remus tried not to let it bother him. “Reminds me of the you-know-whats.”

Remus’ hands itched to knock on wood. “Yep.”

“But we’re not there. Yet,” Talker added after a pause.

“Nope.”

“Cap’s being…interesting.”

“Tell me about it,” Remus muttered.

Something like relief rippled over Talker’s expression. “So it’s not us.”

“When is it ever?” Remus offered a wry smile. “He gets like this. You know that. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

Talker’s shoulder relaxed against his own, warm and solid. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s really not you, man.”

“I know.”

“T.” Remus waited until he looked over, and ducked his head slightly. “It’s not you.”

The kicked-puppy look in Talker’s eye made his chest hurt. Remus knew he had a tendency to put it all on himself—to think he was solely responsible for maintaining the team’s happiness. They were friends for a reason, after all. A missed pass wasn’t the end of the world, but…god, in the NHL? It sure felt like it.

Leo blew past them, not quite stomping, but certainly not pleased. Remus followed his path and found Logan staring at the floor with the same mournful gaze that plagued half the room. His stomach twisted. For a group of guys with everything in the world, they were a bunch of fucking messes, sometimes.

He patted Talker once on the shoulder before standing; he didn’t bother with shoes. It was a quick enough trip to get by in his socks. Moody’s office door was already open when he arrived, and he had barely raised his hand to knock on the frame when a grunt invited him inside.

The door closed with a faint noise. Silence thickened the air, save for the scribble of Moody’s pen. “Coach said you wanted to see me?” Remus prompted awkwardly. He didn’t like this stiffness. They had never been like that before.

Moody clicked his pen shut and leaned back in his chair with a long sigh, rocking back and forth. “Layla says you’re favoring your bad side.”

Tattletale. Remus bit the instinctive thought back. That wasn’t fair. “Probably.” Moody raised an unamused brow at him. “Yeah,” he admitted, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause.”

“The league doesn’t like it when I’m not nice to you boys.” Moody fixed him in place with a look. “But you’re not a snitch, so cough it up, you little shit.”

A scowl tried to claw its way onto Remus’ face, but he kept himself steady. Moody had done too much for him and saved him from too many bad places to be iced out. He kicked at a dust bunny. “Nine years.”

“Since…?”

“Since.”

“Ah.”

He sniffed, dry-eyed and nauseated. “Next Monday. Nine years. I still remember the day and time it happened.”

“We’re not playing Vegas next week.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Moody went quiet, and stayed that way for a long time. His chair creaked as he rocked in slow, maddening patterns. He’d have his leg off, tucked beneath his desk; he rarely left it on when he didn’t need to. Something about sweat. Itching. The works, he’d grumble if Remus asked. The ‘World’s Best Grandpa’ mug—a gag gift from last year’s Secret Santa—sat undisturbed on his desk, filled to bursting. Pens, pencils, a spoon, a screwdriver, an inexplicable parrot feather, all interspersed with his steadily-growing collection of flags.

Remus remembered the day the first one had appeared. A simple rainbow with a wooden stick, no bigger than a postcard. Moody hadn’t said a thing, but he knew it was for him. It wasn’t the only one anymore. The sight of it still made his throat tight.

“Come see me if you need to,” Moody said at last. He tapped his pen on his stack of papers, then nodded. “For the record, I’m not worried. Out of my office.”

“Have a good night, Moody.” Thunder rolled overhead as he turned to the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

He got another grunt in the affirmative and turned the doorknob, hoping the squeaky top hinge would muffle his sigh. The door swung open, Remus walked face-first into Sirius’ chest, and everything went black as night.


“I don’t know why you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit.”

“My feelings aren’t bullshit.”

“Mon dieu—”

“I’m serious, I’m not angry.” Leo shut the drawer a little harder than necessary. The salt shaker rattled on the counter.

“Then what are you?” Logan demanded, keeping his voice low.

“I’m—” He pressed his lips together and tilted his face up to the ceiling. Upset. Hurt. Stressed. Frustrated. Angry. “I don’t know.”

“I already apologized for the rhubarb—”

“Rutabaga.”

“Jesus, Leo.” Logan’s tone was sharp; he flinched. Okay, maybe he deserved that one. He heard Logan’s unsteady exhale and felt a gentle touch on his arm. “I’m sorry. I should have listened better, or texted you when I wasn’t sure.”

And there it was again, that burning flare of annoyance. Leo shrugged him off and turned to the coffee maker. Someone had left their disposable cup in the machine the last time it was used. The sight made him want to take the entire thing and slam it on the floor.

“Leo?”

“I don’t want you to text me when you aren’t sure.” His voice came out shaky and he silently cursed himself. At least his hands didn’t tremble while he swapped the cups. “I—Logan, I shouldn’t have to be your food dictionary.”

Hey.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek at the genuine hurt in Logan’s voice and dug through the mug cupboard. “Look, it’s fine, just…look it up if you’re not sure. It’s not like I hide my cookbooks.”

Or, better yet, be a capable adult. Logan’s sneakers shuffled on the linoleum. Where was his goddamn mug? “D’accord,” he finally said. “Yeah, I’ll—I can do that.”

Was it bad that Leo wanted him to push harder? Maybe he was just jonesing for a fight, but Logan’s instant buckling made him feel even worse. They had been waspish with each other earlier, enough that Finn outright refused to be in the same room until they figured themselves out—perhaps Logan had worn out his ability to argue for the day.

Leo snorted humorlessly. That would be a first.

Pastel yellow caught his peripheral vision. He clenched his hands on the edge of the countertop and took a deep, fortifying breath. Throwing a mug at a wall would get him fired. Throwing things at Logan would never be something he did, in this life or the next, no matter how angry he may or may not be.

Leo plucked the Me-Wow! mug from it’s place—dirty—in the sink—also dirty—by its tail-shaped handle and dropped it in the trash, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Logan and his coffee behind. Thunder rumbled overhead and guilt bubbled up. He shouldn’t leave like that, not when the storm was only going to get worse. Logan didn’t do well alone and upset. He had almost certainly left his headphones at home, too. Leo was never the one to leave but he just couldn’t take it—

He made it ten feet down the hall before the lights went out and silence doused the building.

Fuck.


James was not live, laugh, loving in these conditions. First of all, his best friend/ best man/ adopted brother was imploding with self-loathing for approximately the seventh time this week. Second, his wife’s best friend/ best man/ adopted brother was a nervous wreck despite his best attempts to keep himself together. And third, two of the rookies had worked themselves into a tiff that made Finn look like that.

Finn watched Logan leave after Leo in utter misery. Poor kid belonged in an ASPCA commercial.

In truth, James didn’t know what went wrong, exactly. Sirius had these cycles—he’d ride high and be so firm in himself, in what he loved and worked for, then crash so hard James expected it to leave visible wounds. It was far more frequent in the early days. Since Remus entered the picture, Sirius hadn’t spiraled more than a handful of times. It was like he needed a pressure-release valve to make sure all those internal works didn’t melt or rust over. Remus was better at getting Sirius to talk than just about anyone. It was shitty that Remus’ wan smiles and sickly pallor had to align with the exact time Sirius most needed someone who wouldn’t put up with his nonsense.

James did his best, but he wanted them to be happy more than anything. More often than not, it meant he didn’t push nearly enough. They all had bad habits.

He knew Coach would bring it up today. Sirius’ dark mood had set them all on edge, caught in that place between wanting to prove themselves and wanting to stay out of the way. Whatever was happening between Leo and Logan had brought the scrap of good mood to rock-bottom. There was only so much slack James could pick up without exhausting himself, and he was already at the end of his rope.

Talker was still fussing with his sock tape when James looked over. The stickiness was dead from his rhythmic wrapping and unwrapping, but he didn’t seem to care. James nudged his toe with the front of his skate. “ ‘Sup?”

Talker half-shrugged. “Not much.”

“You were good in the scrimmage today.”

His hands stuttered on the roll before evening out again. “You, too.”

James scooted over into Remus’ stall and lowered his head, turning slightly away from the center of the room for an iota of privacy. “You wanna talk about it? If this is about the pass—”

“Noelle can’t make it for my birthday.”

Oh. Oh. James’ heart sank. “Aw, buddy.”

“They’re in the playoffs and someone rescheduled.” His lips pressed together in a tight line. “It’s dumb, I just…”

“Miss her,” James finished when he trailed off.

Talker nodded. “Distance sucks.”

“I know.”

James tried not to be offended by Talker’s immediate skepticism. “You do?”

“Lily stayed in Boston for three years before transferring up here.” Worst three years of my life. “She wanted her BS in chemistry. I wasn’t going to be the schmuck to hold her back. We called, and FaceTimed, and texted when she was at school, but it—”

“Wasn’t the same,” they said in unison.

The ball of tape fell pathetically next to the trash bin. “I want to hug her,” Talker said. “It sounds so stupid, but I want to hug her. And—I don’t know, it’s been rainy today. She likes it when it rains.”

“Yeah.” James leaned over to bump his shoulder. “I hear if you cross your fingers and jump in a circle three times, your wishes come true.”

Talker was halfway through a laugh when the lights went out.


Oh my god, I went blind. The thought was wild and harebrained and ridiculous. So, precisely how Remus was feeling in every other aspect of his life.

“Oh.” Sirius sounded surprised. His hands were firm on Remus’ upper arms. “Bonjour.”

Remus blinked a few times to let his vision adjust to the sudden darkness. The remnants of the team’s shouts of surprise echoed briefly before going quiet. “Uh, hi,” he managed. Sirius was nothing more than a blob of shadow, but he felt along his arms and chest until he found a shoulder to pat. “Sorry. Power’s out?”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh. Did you…did you need something?”

Sirius shifted from foot to foot. “Uh. No, not really.”

Liar, but okay. Remus patted him again, and let his hand linger. The rink felt different like this. Low murmuring had started up again in the locker room, but everything else was grave-quiet without the familiar buzz of electricity. It felt like the heartbeat had stopped. Like they had paused in time. “We should—should we go back to the locker room?”

Sirius’ hands pulsed where he held Remus. “Sure,” he said with the reluctance of someone being asked to walk headfirst into the ocean.

Lightning cracked outside and Remus caught a glimpse of Sirius worrying at the inside of his lip in the brief light. “We can stay here,” he offered after a moment. “Or, like…go somewhere else for a bit.”

“Can we?”

The relief in Sirius’ voice ached. They had been so pent-up lately, neither willing to break the ice first but both suffering from their shared bad moods. Remus knew he had been more lost in his thoughts than down on Earth for days, and Sirius was being so…so Sirius. But not his Sirius. The Sirius that was twitchy, the Sirius that tossed and turned all night. The Sirius that barely finished his dinner.

Remus rolled the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt between his thumb and pointer finger, and pulled him in for a hug. His stiffness dissolved in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Sirius’ collarbone. He smelled good when Remus took a deep inhale, laundry soap and cologne. His arms were strong and solid around Remus’ back—he felt a few deep breaths come and go under his palms and inclined his head to let Sirius’ bury his face in his neck. His hair was damp from his post-practice rinse. It tickled Remus’ nose along the wings he liked to play with when Sirius was sleepy and cuddly. He sighed again. “Sirius, I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t there for you this week.” Sirius’ breath warmed his neck. His hold on Remus tightened. “You don’t need to be sorry, loup.”

“Okay,” Remus said softly. “But I am.”

“If you’re sorry, then I’m—” Sirius broke off with a tired laugh and nuzzled further into his neck. “I don’t know. Throwing myself at your feet and begging for forgiveness.”

Remus snorted at that mental image, but held him closer anyway. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like feeling like this.”

“I don’t,” Sirius agreed. “Doesn’t mean I should stop paying attention to you.”

“I’ve been doing the same to you,” he reminded him gently.

“You had a reason.”

“And you didn’t?”

Sirius fell quiet. His fingertips slipped along the divot of Remus’ spine while his palm warmed the small of his back; Remus felt a bit silly, standing there in his socks in the dark, but it didn’t really matter when he could feel Sirius’ heart beginning to even out at last. Someone padded out of the locker room and down the hall. Red hair stood out for a half-second when lightning struck again and his worry eased. If Finn was going to check on his boys, everything would sort itself out.

“I hate that this still happens.” Sirius’ voice barely cleared a whisper. “It sneaks up on me, and then I can’t sleep and I’m not hungry—or, I am, I just can’t—and I don’t know when it will stop.”

“I know, baby.”

“I want to sleep next to you and not be thinking about the next game, Re.”

Remus slipped his hands beneath Sirius’ arms and pressed their bodies together like he could press reassurance into him. If he could take that burden, he would. If he could fix it, he would. If he had the right words to tell Sirius that he didn’t care whether he was perfect or a wreck, he would. He pushed his nose under the soft spot of Sirius’ jaw and kissed him there. “I love you.”

A small sound stuck in Sirius’ throat.

“Je t’aime,” he repeated with another kiss. Just because he could.

The rise and fall of Sirius’ shoulders was steady now. “Je t’aime aussi. Whatever you need for this week, I’m here, okay? I’m in your nook.”

“My…nook?”

“Your—” Sirius huffed a laugh. “I’m on your side. Whatever the saying is.”

In my corner?” Remus suggested around a smile. Sirius grumbled something vaguely agreeable and swatted at him, but never loosened their hug for a second.


Leo was holding him, and he wasn’t even angry anymore. Not like he had been. Thunder rattled a distant window and Logan’s grip twisted in the front of his shirt. “I’m fine,” he said.

Leo kissed his temple. “Yeah.”

They lapsed back into silence. He was usually so good at problem-solving, but every time he tried to speak, his tongue got stuck on the words. The anger had burnt itself out. The frustration and annoyance were still there, alongside the hurt. He wished Finn was there. Finn always knew what words to use.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said haltingly. Logan shifted in his arms. “I was shitty to you. Earlier, I mean. I should have talked to you.”

Logan didn’t answer. Somehow, that was the worst outcome. Leo knew how to match him in a verbal fight.

Lightning flashed. Logan flinched. Leo held him like he alone could stop the light from taking his boyfriend by surprise. That was it, wasn’t it? Even pissed off, he’d still hold Logan rather than leaving him in the dark with a thunderstorm.

They didn’t speak, just swayed in place. Footsteps echoed down the hall, growing closer each second before coming to a halt in the doorway. “Babes?”

“Here,” they chorused softly.

“Um.” Finn audibly hesitated. “Okay, give me a landmark. I’m so blind right now.”

“By the countertop,” Leo offered. Logan burrowed deeper into his chest. He was fever-hot the way he got when he was upset. Finn’s noise of sympathy when he found them and felt it somehow made it worse. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hey.” Leo heard the sound of a soft kiss. “Lo, you good?”

“Ouais,” came the murmured answer.

They lapsed into silence for the length of another roll of thunder. “And you…” Finn faltered. “You figured yourselves out?”

Leo looked away despite the darkness. They remained silent.

“Right,” Finn sighed.

“I don’t know what I did,” Logan blurted. “You said this wasn’t about the rutabaga, but it is, and you said you’re not angry, but you are, and I’m confused. And I’m really sorry for whatever I did to upset you, Peanut. I’m being so honest right now.”

“That’s the problem,” Leo said helplessly.

Logan clutched at his shirt, as if the answers were hidden in the fabric. “What?” he asked. “What is the problem? Stop doing that, I told you, I’m confused. Are you angry?”

“A little,” Leo choked out. Ugh, honesty was sawdust in his mouth.

“Is it about the rutabaga?”

“No.”

Logan made a frustrated noise, but Finn cut him off before he could continue. “What is it about, sweetheart?” he asked, so gentle it burned.

Leo let out a long breath, unwinding one arm from Logan’s waist to wrap it around Finn instead. He was nice and cool from his shower. They had all been running too hot lately.

“I’m not your mom, Lo,” he began. “We’re all grown-ups here. You know what food looks like. You know how to google things.” He felt the feelings ramp up again and rather than swallowing them back, let them siphon out on an exhale. Everything inside him was a miserable, knotted mess. “You don’t need me to come to the store with you all the time, and it pisses me off when you keep asking because I’m—'better at it’, or whatever. It’s not my job to shop for you. I’m sick and tired of it.”

Logan’s chest caved against his own. He mumbled something under his breath and Leo closed his eyes.

“I can’t hear you when you do that, c’mon, please—"

“I said, it’s not because I need you to shop for me.” Logan’s voice shook slightly, but not with anger.

“Then why would you ask me to walk to the store with you for the ‘right garlic’?” he sighed.

Logan raised his head, leaving a cold spot on the left side of Leo’s chest. “Because I want to spend time with you.”

That—was not the answer he had been expecting. You’re better at it, Logan would say. You know the foods better than I do. The realization came in waves; he had been teasing. Joking. Making it a bit. And Leo thought he was dead serious the whole damn time. All the frustration he had built up around himself cam down with a rush and a clatter. His heart made a break for hell with a pit stop at his stomach. He stared into the dark nothingness of the rink break room and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I…” He broke off. Words had gotten him into this mess. Were they both that terrible at communicating properly? Finn bumped his arm and he took the hint (for once), wrapping Logan in a hug. By some miracle, Logan hugged him back. “That is the sweetest fucking thing, and I’m so sorry,” he managed, hoarse. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Logan, that was such a fucked-up thing for me to think.”

“I do actually like you, you know,” Logan said, muffled in his shoulder.

The remnants of Leo’s heart went for another spin through the shredder. “No, I know, I know, I’m so sorry. I like you, too.” He pressed a hard kiss to Logan’s temple and squeezed him tighter. “I like you so much. So much.”

“And I know what kind of garlic you like.”

Tears made Leo’s eyes sting and he violently wished them back. He had no right to cry over this. None at all. “Of course you do.”

Logan scratched lightly between his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to think about the type of people that made you think I’d do that, though. But if you want to give me names and addresses…”

Leo laughed weakly and felt Finn huff against him. “No, none of that,” Leo said with a kiss to Logan’s messy curls. He kissed his cheek, too, and his lips for good measure. Slow and easy, the way they both liked it. He wanted to make sure Logan was paying attention. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You did nothing wrong. I love you so, so much and I never should have thought that about you.”

In the hallway, the whir of generators kicked up. Soft light cast Logan in gold and dull shadows, just enough to make out the conflicted look on his face. His thumb was rough against Leo’s jaw. “I wish you thought better of yourself,” he said quietly. “You’re fun to be around, even walking to the store.”

I wish I had thought better of you. Leo pulled him close without a word and caught Finn’s gaze over Logan’s shoulder. His expression told him everything he needed to know, and he shut his eyes as Finn’s arms came around them both. A kiss lingered just above his ear. Leo kind of wanted to cry all over again.


The generators were a masterpiece of mechanics. The emergency switch flipped the moment the building lost power from the main grid, pooling energy around the rink itself to keep the ice solid. The rest of the lights would come on within fifteen to twenty minutes, beginning with the stadium seats and ending with the more fringe areas, like locker room and kitchens. They were top of the line, the best you could buy for a massive space that relied heavily on electricity to keep it functional.

They were no match for the Lions.

Ice cream, popsicles, and enough beer to cover the team twice over were liberated from the various refrigerators in less than five minutes. The team gathered on the floor of the locker room with iPhone flashlights and glowsticks (also ‘borrowed’ from the adjacent rooms) to enjoy their haul in peace and to play stupid, silly games like middle schoolers at a sleepover. They played games for a living, for crying out loud. Their favorite game. Why on earth would they take it too seriously when an opportunity like this presented itself?

Equal cheers and groans went up when the lights came back on. Moody was the first to leave, having only stuck around that long because the space outside his office door was occupied with an apparently necessary conversation. Arthur was next. The general consensus among the players was that the weather was simply too bad to risk driving. For their safety, they should stay and enjoy their goodies.

The morning security shift found them right where Arthur left them, puppy-piled by their stalls and surrounded by joyous havoc.

Chapter 93: God Only Knows

Summary:

Harvard FinnLo and the most frustrating day

Chapter Text

“Can you sit still for one fucking second?” Logan snaps.

Finn fixes him with a withering look across the table. “I’d love to, but you’re breathing so goddamn loud that you’re about to blow me away.”

The bouncing of his knee grows faster, rattling Logan’s chair. He grinds his teeth. It’s worse when he knows it’s on purpose. “Real mature.”

“Like you’d know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?” Finn counters snottily.

Logan feels his face heat. “That’s not an answer.”

“Duh, it’s a question.”

He doesn’t like it when Finn does this—twists his words around, upside down and backwards until Logan can’t keep it straight in his head anymore. Finn plays with words like a toddler in a sandbox and it’s fun, it’s fine, it’s fascinating. English sounds so interesting in Finn’s mouth. But then he pulls this bullshit, and Logan has no patience for it. “Can you put a crumb of effort into an actual answer, please?” he grits out.

Finn’s gaze is back on his book. His brows knit in the middle and he flicks to a new page as if Logan isn’t worth the second it’ll take to look at him, and that grates at him more than the knee-bouncing and word-spinning put together.

Hey,” he demands.

What?” Finn mimics.

“You’re being a dick. Stop it.”

That gets him a disbelieving glance. “Okay, projection.”

It takes him a moment to make sense of that, but when he does, he clenches his fists on the plastic cover of his economics textbook hard enough to make it squeak. His brain is tired. He’s tired. Technical English makes him want to tear his hair out and scream, even though he can’t do that, because Finn is there and studying and Logan is polite.

“What’re you all worked up about, anyway?” Finn mutters, slumping in his chair.

“I’m not worked up.” It comes out petulant. Even Logan can tell.

“Yes, you are. You’re bitchier than usual.”

God—I am not!” Finn’s knee is bouncing again. Briefly, Logan wonders if his textbook is heavy enough to do real damage, or if it’ll just leave Finn’s forehead with a nice reminder to shut the fuck up sometimes. He straightens his legs out and kicks Finn under the table.

Ow!

“Stop bouncing!”

“Stop being an asshole!”

“It’s impossible for you to be nice, isn’t it?”

Finn reddens from his neck to the tips of his ears. “I’m not the one biting people’s heads off every five minutes!”

“I’ve never bitten anyone,” Logan says hotly.

“That’s not what that means, Logan!”

Mortification hits him like a fist to the gut but it is far too late to stop now. Embarrassment is gasoline to Logan’s fire. “I don’t care about your stupid words! They don’t make you any less annoying!”

Logan snaps his mouth shut a split second too late. He wishes he could trap the words with it. For a moment, he thinks Finn is going to hit him, but the look of genuine upset that shifts over his face hurts worse than a punch ever could.

It’s gone as fast as it arrived. Finn closes his book, not bothering to mark his page, and sets it on the table. His hand trembles lightly. Logan wants to combust, just so he doesn’t have to watch Finn forcibly control his expression. He takes his bag off the chair and leaves without a word.

The front door closes with the gentlest sound he’s ever heard. He stares at his textbook, shiny paper covered in black ink he can only begin to make sense of after hours upon hours. He hadn’t been brave enough to ask Finn to help him work through it; it seemed like an imposition. An interruption. Finn had enough on his plate already, and Logan had no right to ask him to drop everything to help him do something a first-grader could handle.

“Dude.”

Logan jumps, slamming the book closed.

In the doorway to the kitchen, Percy watches him like he’s a cornered lynx. “You good?”

He seems to regret asking, if his immediate wince is any indication. Logan’s stomach turns. He doesn’t bother taking his bag when he leaves.


He finds Finn on the Commons, a speck of shiny copper against a sea of spring green. It’s chilly today. A few groups dot the field, but Finn is mostly alone in his sun patch. His hands are folded over his stomach and his head is pillowed on his bag. It can’t be comfortable. Logan knows how many books he packs in that thing.

He wishes he had brought his backpack, just for something to hold.

Finn’s taken his shoes and socks off, he notes as he trudges closer. One knee is bent, splayed to the side at a casual angle that shows the flex of his thigh beneath a layer of denim. The wind gusts over him and flutters the hem of his shirt.

His eyebrow twitches when Logan hits the meter mark, but he doesn’t so much as breathe differently.

Logan stops next to his shoulder. His shadow cuts over the top half of Finn’s face. “You’re going to get a sunburn.”

Finn doesn’t answer.

“You’re not annoying. I don’t think you are.”

Finn doesn’t answer.

His chest constricts. It’s so stupid that seeing Finn in the slightest bit of pain makes him want to throw himself over a grenade. Especially when he’s the cause of it half the time.

More than half.

He’s so stupid.

He flops on the grass by Finn’s shoulder and folds his legs up, resting his chin on top. It’s a nice day despite the wind. “I’m sorry, Fish.”

A few heartbeats pass. A sparrow flits between the trees. “I can’t help it.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Finn cracks an eye open at last, and it’s so pleading. It’s so horrible. Logan wishes he was one of the ants marching along through the tall grass, incapable of feeling the guilt that drowns him.

“I do.” The worst part is, he does.

“ ‘Cause I try.” Finn clears his throat and opens his eyes, though he keeps them trained on his hands. His usual fidgeting—which Logan has sort of always appreciated as a comfort—is absent. “I really try, Lo.”

Lo. That’s good. That’s progress. It’s not forgiveness, but it’s more than Logan deserves. He stretches out along Finn’s side, studiously ignoring the root poking his back and maintaining a respectful distance of two inches between them. “You’re nicer than anyone I know,” he says quietly. “Because you try. You share coffee and headphones and—and whatever the fuck else someone asks for. You’re so nice. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Finn turns that over in his head, watching the sky with half a squint. “Then why’d you say it?”

“I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah.” A smile wiggles loose at the side of his mouth. Finn tilts his head just enough to glance at him before straightening again. “Yeah, you are.”

“And I do care about your words, by the way.” I care about you. “So that was also a lie.”

Finn snorts under his breath. “Anything true?”

“…you were being kind of a dick.”

A pointy knee jabs into the meat of his thigh; Logan reaches out and whacks him blindly on the stomach. They’re both laughing by the time he brings his hand back to his own body and Logan has never been so glad to see Finn’s nose wrinkle the way it does. He can do damage, but he can fix it. With Finn, it’s never irreparable.

“I’ve been stuck on page 135 for an hour and a half,” Finn finally says with a shake of his head. “Just…stuck. I hate that feeling.”

“It took me five hours to get to page six,” Logan admits. The bitterness of shame is lighter in his mouth when Finn hums. Funny how that works.

“That boring?”

He swallows, lacing his fingers together over his navel. “Can’t fuckin’ read half of it.”

Finn pauses for a second, then turns to look at him. “You could’ve asked me.”

“You were busy.”

“You can always ask.”

Emotion builds in Logan’s belly and threatens his chest. He presses down to keep it there. “Like I said. You’re nice.”

“Lo, you’re my best friend.” There’s a rustle in the grass as Finn shuffles over, prodding him with gentle insistence. “Come on, you know that. I want to help.”

“I want to be able to read.”

“I want to be able to sit down and focus for more than twelve minutes at a time, but here we are, on the grass, not doing any of that.”

Logan smiles down at his hands. A butterfly soars over the toe of Finn’s sneaker. It’s a shit hand to be dealt, suffering through every class that requires complicated English. It’s demeaning. It’s frustrating. He’s getting better, understanding more, but it always feels like he’s not doing it fast enough. Things keep changing and years keep passing and the material just gets harder every time.

Except Finn. Finn doesn’t go anywhere at all.

He lays his head back in the grass; the muscles of his neck relax and he sees Finn do the same in his periphery. He waits until a bird-shaped wisp of cloud floats the width of the field before nudging Finn’s ankle with his shoe. “I’ll balance your budget if you read me the first chapter of my textbook.”

“…tempting.”

“And I’ll get you a pork sandwich.”

Deal,” Finn says without hesitation.

Chapter 94: Hold Out Your Hand

Summary:

Finn's bad day + Cub comfort (pseudo-sequel to Self Care)

Chapter Text

Leo paused at the back of the couch and bent, nestling a kiss on the top of Finn’s head. “Good book?”

A quiet hum answered.

“Good part?”

Another hum; Finn pressed up and Leo tilted his head to leave another kiss on his temple. A clatter and a soft curse filtered out of the kitchen, but Finn hardly flinched.

Leo nuzzled against the wispy, silken ends of his hair until his cheek could slot just above Finn’s ear. The couch dug into his stomach a bit, but he didn’t mind. “You tired?”

Finn’s laugh answered his question before his words ever could. “Yeah.”

He picked at the hem of Leo’s threadbare Saints sweatshirt with a sleepy kind of apathy. His book hung limp from the fingers of his other hand, abandoned only two pages past where it had been the last time Leo checked on him. Finn’s breaths were methodic when he rubbed a palm over his chest and nibbled the shell of his ear, just to watch a smile pull at his tired eyes. “Come to bed.”

Finn cast him a sideways, skeptical look. “It’s 8:45.”

“And you’re the sleep police?” Leo hooked a finger in the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled. “It’s been a long day. You’re tired. We can fix that problem with our nice new mattress.”

Finn was quiet for a moment; Leo felt him lean back into the cushions and the cradle of his arm, a slow breath leaving him when Leo began toying with the hoodie strings. “You know, I kind of miss the old one.”

“It barely fit us.”

“Yeah.” Fondness shone on every word. “It was nice. Waking up all over each other. Always had you in arm’s reach.” Another beat of silence passed. “I lose you at night, sometimes.”

Oh god. Leo’s heart yanked—he held Finn a little tighter. “Sorry, cher.”

“Not your fault.”

“Is that…is that why you were upset today?” Logan came out of the kitchen with a precarious tray of tea, tongue poking out over his lower lip as he balanced their mugs on the table. Leo caught his eye and gave a small smile that relaxed the pinch of his forehead.

Finn took no notice of the change, save for a shift to the side in an obvious bid to have Logan sit next to him. “Nah,” he said as Logan took the hint and tucked himself between the arm rest and Finn. “Just a bad day, I think. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Logan tugged the book from Finn’s hands and set it aside, then replaced it with a mug of tea and pressed his fingers around the warm ceramic with an encouraging nudge. “Drink. You’ll sleep better.”

Finn smiled wryly. “Morphine? Chloroform?”

“Decaf. Very potent.”

“Thanks, Lo.”

Logan poked his ankle with his foot and snuggled Finn under his arm. “Don’t thank me for things you do every day.”

Finn went to protest, but something on their faces must have stopped him, because he bit back the words and took an obedient sip of tea. Leo didn’t know why he watched so intently—maybe for reassurance, maybe to make sure Finn was really on the up-and-up. Steam curled up around his copper lashes and turned the tips invisible when he blinked. He gave a nod. “ ‘S good.”

“Of course it is.”

“I’m—” Finn pressed his lips together and exhaled; steam billowed off his mug. “I’m sorry my brain doesn’t work right.”

Once, that would have broken Leo’s heart. Once, he would have jumped to soothe and bent over backwards to fix it all. Once, he would have taken it as personally as a slap to the face. Not enough. Not good enough. Missing Finn’s signals left and right—did Leo even love him, if he couldn’t pay attention?

The tight ball of insecurity in his chest may as well have been a marble, rolling about and looking for something to knock over in an empty room. He kissed the top of Finn’s head again. “I don’t see anything you need to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry I missed your pass earlier,” Logan said, taking a long sip of his own tea. “It was a good one. I just wasn’t looking.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed under Leo’s hand. Fuck yeah, Tremblay. There’s my MVP. “Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“What about—”

“You were on form.” Normally, Leo didn’t like it when Logan interrupted. This seemed like a much-needed exception. Logan raised his eyebrows at Finn’s suspicious look. “You were. I know you don’t feel like it, but you looked really good out there. That pass was on me.”

Finn’s punch to his shoulder was a roll of knuckles at best. Logan still smiled, still took it with faux-hurt and a hand over the heart. “Eyes up, Tremzy.”

Logan whistled quietly. “Five for fighting and two for roughing. What would Coach say?”

“Doesn’t count if you deserved it.”

“Oh, is that how that works?” Leo laughed. Logan glanced up at him with an impish grin, and passed the last mug over the couch. Peppermint filled the air, sweetened by honey.

They drank in relative silence, hands and legs and arms looped around each other until Leo could hardly tell where one ended and another began. Finn was right; however nice it was to not risk falling off the mattress in the middle of the night, he did miss the inevitable proximity of fitting three people on a single bed.

He supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to make an effort tonight.

The clock ticked as nine o’clock arrived at last. Leo finished the last of his tea and leaned over Finn to set it on the table, offering an apology in the form of a kiss to his cheekbone. “Bedtime.”

“Yeah.”

Logan took the mugs, Leo took Finn, and Finn went without protest into a brief, firm hug. “Love you,” Leo murmured. He felt the answering mumble more than he heard it. “Your brain isn’t broken.”

Finn sighed, slipping his hands under Leo’s shirt to rest against his skin. “Feels broken.”

“I think it’s pretty great, regardless.”

“You’re just a really nice person, Le.”

“I just love you a whole lot.” He let Finn pull away and cupped his face in both hands, running his thumbs along the summer lilac under his eyes. Exhaustion tarnished his bright edges. “Come to bed with me?”

Finn rested there for several seconds, then nodded. They went together.

Leo had only just managed to tuck Finn into the curve of his body before Logan was there, shuffling under the sheets to join them and reaching over Finn’s waist to hold the crook of Leo’s elbow. Finn made a quiet, sleepy noise and pushed his face into Logan’s chest; Logan’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and his expression only grew more contented when he looked up and found Leo already watching them.

Leo waited until Finn had mostly relaxed into drowsy limbo before risking a thumbs-up across the sheets. Logan fought back a smile and returned it, nose scrunching. Success. Another win for their tally. It was a shit day, a hard day, but they could still end it like this and that would be more than enough.

Chapter 95: Sick Season

Summary:

Sickfic--Remus takes care of Jules

Chapter Text

Remus leaned against the countertop for support and stared at the floor. “But he’s okay, right?”

“He’s okay,” his mother answered. She sounded beyond exhausted.

Remus nodded and rubbed his fingers under his eye. The night suddenly seemed so much darker. “How’re you and dad? Taking time off?”

“We’re alright.” He knew that low edge to her voice—it was the same one his own took on when he was trying to hide his hurt. Silence fell over the line.

“Mom.”

“Your dad can’t get PTO this week and neither can I.”

She cleared her throat; he closed his eyes. “Can Leanne keep an eye on him?”

“Visiting her daughter in Florida.”

No parents, no neighbors, no way they’re getting a babysitter for a sick kid… “I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Remus, no.”

“There’s nobody else—”

“Honey.” He could see the way her eyebrows drew together in his mind. “Honey, you’re on the road this week.”

“I know.”

“In Montreal.”

“They can handle a couple games without me.”

“You’re practically a rookie, Remus,” his mother insisted. After a pause, she lowered her voice. “You’re not going to damage your career when we can get a babysitter, or—or I can find a couple days off. Hell, your dad’s got a pullout at the office he can rest on.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Remus John, you have a responsibility to your team.”

“Jules comes first.” If there was one thing Remus would stand by no matter the circumstances, it was his family. The Lions would survive a roadie without him. Jules would never be alone and sick on his watch.

His mother was silent for a long time.

Remus picked at a chip in the granite. “There’s no babysitter that will watch him, is there?”

A sigh traveled down the line. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby. Give Sirius my best. Sleep well.”

“I will,” he lied. The call went dead and he turned, bracing both hands against cool stone. Sirius’ footsteps were soft, his hand gentle. Remus sniffled. His chest was a vise. “Mom says hi.”

Slow circles pressed between his shoulder blades. “What happened?”

“Jules got the flu, and they can’t get time off work to stay home with him.” Fucking assholes in fucking corporate. Remus swallowed around the clog in his throat. “Sounds like he’s pretty sick.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Remus shook his head. The hand on his back slid down and wrapped around his side, guiding him to lean on Sirius’ chest. “Do you want me to book your flight while you call Coach?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He didn’t let go. “God, I hate being so far away.”

Sirius’ other arm came around him and held him tight.


Remus and his father talked the whole ride home from the airport, and said nothing at all.

The house was just as he left it at Christmas. No snow remained, and little frost—crocuses peeked out of the lawn where the squirrels had snatched and buried them.

Apologies for the late notice, but due to a family emergency, I will be in Wisconsin until the 22nd. Thank you for your understanding.

Rapid responses. Cranky responses. Remus had tried to keep a level head, even through the tremor of his hands on the computer keyboard. The organization wasn’t happy with him, but when were they ever?

It didn’t matter either way. Fine or not, suspension or not, they weren’t going to stop him from making chicken soup and raspberry Emergen-C for his sick little brother. He was damn lucky to have Arthur on his side, easing the retribution from men in offices who had hardly bothered to meet him at the start of the season.

“Your mother’s worried.”

Remus glanced up from his hands. His father was facing forward, brow pinched while he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah.”

The engine turned off with a sputter. “Be gentle, okay?”

“It’s not your fault they wouldn’t give you time—”

“Be gentle.”

Remus bit the inside of his lip and nodded. A goldfish cracker peered out at him from the crevice by the door. This passenger seat always made him feel so small. He slung his backpack out of the seat well and stepped out, letting the crisp air nip his face and bring him back. He needed to come back more. The heartache had lessened, and distance was simply exhausting now. Running fast and far to Gryffindor had seemed so smart before.

The front door still squeaked when he turned the doorknob. Remus was glad for that, at least.

His mother smiled when she saw him. “Hi, baby, how was your flight?”

“Hey, mom.” It was good, he started to say, only to have the words fall from his mind the moment she stepped around the kitchen table and wrapped him in her arms. It’s been a lot I love you I missed you how are you where’s Jules—“Uneventful, thankfully.”

“Good, that’s just the way you want it.” She gave a little sway, one hand cradling the back of his neck. He felt a light pulse of pressure. Her back, ever tense, relaxed slightly. “It’s so good to have you home.”

Remus breathed deep. Lemon-scented cleaning spray and drugstore shampoo, laundry detergent and just-sharpened pencils. He pressed his nose tighter to her shoulder and felt her squeeze him, just a little. “Missed you.”

“Oh, Re,” she sighed. A hand rubbed along his spine for a few hard, grounding, wonderful seconds. Warmth seeped in around his edges. The floor was solid beneath him, the walls sturdy. A kiss found his temple. “Baby, we missed you, too.”

A rattling cough made him wince. “Jeez.”

“I know.” Her face crinkled into a grimace when they separated and she looked back down the hall. “That started up two days ago. Poor thing. Keeps him up at night.”

“Aw.” The cough was followed by a rough throat-clear that made Remus frown. “Fever and everything?”

“102, as of this morning.” Hope ran a palm over his shoulder, the way she tended to right after he came home. Remus tried not to think about that too hard, or else he made himself sad. “You’re sure about this? You could get sick. It’s the middle of the season.”

Remus tried for an encouraging smile. “My immune system’s great, mom. I’m in good shape, I take my multivitamins. Eat my Wheaties, and all that.”

“Hmm.” She scrutinized him for a beat. “You better be.”

“I’m basically indestructible.”

Her laugh bounced off the corners of the house like it always had. “Let’s not get hasty, hon.”

“Mom?”

Remus’ heart sank.

“Dad?” Jules croaked, a little louder. “Did the neighbors come over?”

“Hey, J,” Remus called. The floorboards gave a light groan when he set his bag down at the end of the hall. “It’s me, bud.”

Silence followed. The bathroom nightlight was on, casting the hall in gentle blue. His hand drifted toward the first door on reflex (cool metal knob, lock on the inside, jimmy it three times in the winter when the frame sticks), but he managed to step past it and knock lightly below the ‘J LUPIN. DO NOT ENTER.’ sign scotch-taped to the old wood.

“Jules? I’m opening the door.”

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Stale, sweaty, feverish—Remus did a double-take without meaning to.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Jules rasped from somewhere to his right. “Hey. Hi, why are you here?”

“You slept too long. It’s June. I’m here for the summer.”

Hey.”

“You’re sick, dummy.” Remus tried to be subtle about propping the door open wider with a loose hockey glove. “I’m taking care of you.”

With the new, faint light from the hallway, he could see just how terrible Julian looked. His unconvinced squint didn’t help the sallowness of his skin or the heavy bags carved under his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, you have a roadie in—” Another hacking cough interrupted him. It shook his tiny frame hard enough to make his knees bend under the covers. Remus’ heart gave an acid lurch.

Agitated heat radiated off him to the point that Remus could feel it when he perched on the edge of the bed. The sheets were a tangled mess; one blanket half-tucked, the other mostly on the floor. “Deep breaths,” he soothed when the coughing turned to a few aggressive sniffles. “Take it easy.”

“Montreal,” Jules finished in a mutter. He wiped his nose on the edge of his baggy t-shirt (almost certainly their father’s, with the way it dwarfed him) and laid back with a long huff. “You got a roadie in Montreal. Dad ‘n me are gonna watch the game.”

“Dad and I.”

Shhh.”

He smiled to himself and tugged the top blanket down to shimmy the next one into position. “Well, you and I can watch it. How’s that sound?”

No, you need to play,” Jules groaned, but even that was weak. He curled onto his side and peeked out of his huddle, dull-eyed and flushed. “How come you’re here anyway?”

“Told you. I’m taking care of you.”

“But hockey.”

“But you.”

“But…hockey.”

“But you.” His stomach gave a little pull. “You’re more important than a couple games, bud.”

Jules didn’t look like he believed him. “…okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re R—”

“Don’t you—” Remus bit back his words (and his grin) and whacked lightly at the outline of Jules’ legs under the blankets, coaxing a crunchy sort of laugh from him. “Watch it. I’m in charge of feeding you for the next few days.”

Jules’ giggling trickled out with a last sniff. “Mom and Dad gotta go to work, huh?”

“Yeah.” The wrinkle of his nose was almost certainly reflected on Remus’ face. “But hey, we’ll have fun.”

“Mmm.”

The air shifted, along with his gut. Jules’ breaths were heavier. His eyes, lidded. His forehead was far too hot against the back of Remus’ hand when he checked it. “Tired?”

“Mhmm.”

Wrapping him in a dozen blankets and cuddling him as tight as possible wouldn’t help. Logically, Remus knew that. The temptation was still there. “Too hot?”

“Warm.”

“Want me to take a blanket?”

Jules shook his head. His eyes were closed fully now. “Weight’s nice.”

Every inhale hitched when Remus rested a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling for his pulse. That, at least, was calm. Jules had sweated through the old grey fabric there. He combed a few strands of hair off his burning brow and swallowed around his dry throat. “Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“Gonna nap.” Jules twitched, as if he was trying to readjust but lacked the energy. “Here when I wake up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”


The evening passed without issue. Night rolled in with a gust of wind that hissed across the windowpanes while Remus dried the last of the dishes. Jules had managed to get up and come to the table for dinner, but he had looked even worse in the brighter light and barely ate half a bowl of soup. He could see their mother struggling not to fuss over him, not that Jules had any oomph to give real protest.

What kind of family emergency is this, Lupin?

A family emergency. I can come back the 22nd.

You’re missing two games. Do you understand that? Weasley won’t play you for the third, either.

I understand.

Is this a funeral?

No.

A wedding?

No.

It’s a request for nonvital time off, then. This could very well result in a fine.

I’m aware of that. Time off for a family emergency is covered in my contract. I’m permitted to miss four games.

Are you really going to put in a request for this? For a nonvital midweek trip instead of two NHL games?

That’s precisely what I’m requesting, yes. This is an emergency and therefore it is vital.

Remus had not missed the bureaucracy of the NHL during his time on the ice. There was still administrative irritation, of course, but it had not been nearly long enough since he played email tag with someone determined to make his life harder. ‘Nonvital emergency’. It made him want to laugh and lose it at the same time. What a fucking joke.

A sudden rustle and thud—likely Jules’ elbow hitting the wall between their rooms, ouch—startled him from half-sleep. Clumsy footsteps pattered on the floor; a door creaked and closed, quickly followed by a dry heave. Remus winced in sympathy.

This bedroom felt too small. His feet touched the end of the bed if he stretched out. There were only a few inches’ allowance for his shoulders on either side before he hit a wall or the edge of the mattress. Even his stuff felt smaller, as if the books shrank in his hands and the trophies had been made for someone Jules’ size.

He supposed they had been. Juniors was a world away, these days. He had turned the idea of keeping a potential you-know-what ring here instead of in Gryffindor, but never really committed one way or another. That, too, felt far off. He was stuck in the middle of a spectrum, where nothing felt quite right.

The toilet flushed, but he didn’t hear Jules leave. The low timbre of their father’s voice buzzed in the hall for a second; he didn’t catch Jules’ response. Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed with a huff and stood despite the creaking protests of his knees.

The blue light looked eerie in the cover of real night. He propped Jules’ door open again as he passed. A little ventilation couldn’t hurt. He paused in the doorway of the bathroom and crouched down, lowering himself to the cool linoleum with a soft groan. “Sup?”

“M not gonna throw up again.”

“Okay.” Remus flexed his ankles against the cabinets and tilted his head back. The soft towels buffered him from the wallpaper. Next to him, Jules’ forehead was stubbornly pressed into the crease of his elbow where he rested it on the toilet seat. “Still sick?”

A wordless mumble answered him.

“I’m gonna make chicken and dumplings tomorrow.”

Jules weakly raised his head. “Really?”

“Yup. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch. All that good stuff.”

Quiet fell over them for a long moment. “What are you talking about?”

“What, you don’t want a science lesson?”

“Nerd—”

He knew it was going to happen before Jules’ first jerk forward and caught his side when he wobbled, giving gentle pressure until he was upright. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, I got you.”

Ugh.”

“I know. You’re doing great, J.” It was over as fast as it started. Jules trembled lightly under his touch, sweaty again, all too warm again. His knuckles stood out in harsh midnight shadows where he gripped the porcelain, thin arms shivering.

Jules sniffled. “I wanna go to bed.”

“I bet.”

“I’m tired.”

“Can you stand up?” It took Jules a moment to even start moving; when he did, it was sluggish and unsteady. Remus hovered his hands close and resisted the urge to scoop him right up. Jules wouldn’t like that. He hated being babied. It was still fucking hard to watch him pull himself to his feet.

A rinse-and-spit and a cool washcloth on the back of his neck made Jules sigh. He leaned right into Remus’ hip, head at the base of his ribs, and staggered along on foal legs while Remus guided him back to bed with a lump in the base of his throat. There was no fuss about being tucked in—he simply sighed again, so content it hurt. Remus smoothed out the hem of the comforter by his neck just one more time, once more, just so he could be sure.


Their parents were out by the time Remus woke. He distantly recalled the sound of them leaving, but the plane left him groggy enough not to notice or care. Jules was still snoring loud enough for him to hear it through their shared wall.

Breakfast, then. Something light. Oatmeal or eggs, if he could keep it down. Broth, if not. Remus would have to check the fridge for Gatorade and lemons.

It was strange to be functionally alone in the house. The carpet felt too soft, the curtains too still. A bright pink sticky note was stuck to the table with his name written in big letters at the top. He’d check it later.

Message To: SB <3

Morning :)

Fever’s still going, nasty cough, the works. I’ll keep an eye on him today.

Miss you

He clicked his phone off and set it aside—hopefully, Sirius wouldn’t be awake for some time yet. They didn’t have practice for two more hours in his time zone. He liked to sleep in on days like that. Remus, on the other hand, had work to do.

Quick eggs and bacon for himself took fifteen minutes. He parked himself at his usual seat without really thinking about it, pulling a dish towel and a fork from their drawers with an absent mind. He hadn’t dared to check his email yet and seriously contemplated leaving it alone until he was back in Gryffindor. Time off was time off. Professional hockey wasn’t big on ‘work from home’.

Jules shuffled in half past ten and made a beeline for the couch.

“Good morning.”

A grunt answered.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Want oatmeal?”

Jules’ mumble seemed vaguely affirmative. Remus set the kettle on and dug a pot out of the cupboard, then turned to rummage in the pantry. This was setting up to be a silent morning.

Measuring for a sick preteen was almost as strange as picturing his childhood bedroom as a normal size. Remus had only cooked for himself for years, then himself and Sirius, with the occasional potluck dish for a team dinner or holiday party. A single cup of anything was a novelty. “Want sugar?” he checked once the oats and milk were simmering. Jules snuffled in response, dragging one of the knit blankets further over his head. “Lemme check your temperature and then you can tell me, yeah?”

“Mmkay.”

A quick search of the medicine cabinet revealed no thermometer, and the same went for the hall closet. Remus spent a good five minutes riffling through the bathroom drawers and Jules’ desk before he found it propped against the base of his dolphin lamp. It had been left uncapped; gross. He made sure to give it a thorough wash before moving back into the living room.

“Blanket down.”

“No.”

“I can’t see your mouth. C’mon, just for a second.”

“Cold. Bright.”

“Twenty seconds, J. I promise. You can count.”

The blanket lump shifted. “Twenty?”

“Fifteen. Then I’ll bring your oatmeal over and leave you alone.”

A handful of shallow breaths filled the silence before Jules’ forehead poked out, then his glazed eyes, and finally the lower half of his face. Remus grimaced. His nose was red and chapped from tissues, and a faint crack split the side of his lower lip. “Have you been drinking your water?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Jules slurred.

Remus knew he wasn’t getting a better number than yesterday. Not with this vague lucidity, and not when Jules was hardly able to hold a fragment of a conversation. All the same, it made his gut sink when the thermometer beeped.

“Whuzzat?”

“102.5.”

“ ‘S worse?”

“Yep.”

A resigned nod told him Jules expected as much. The blanket swallowed him up again. Remus pulled it down over his feet before heading back to the kitchen.

Three hours passed with all the rush of a snail on codeine. Jules rallied to choke down his oatmeal before going down for a noon nap, let Remus rouse him to gulp down about a gallon of water, and overall remained sedentary while Remus channel-surfed for anything even slightly interesting on daytime TV. They settled on NCIS from one to 2:30, NCIS: Miami from 2:30 to four (with a brief break for sandwiches, or toast, in Jules’ case), and rounded it out with NCIS: LA while Remus tossed some rotisserie chicken and chopped vegetables in a simmering pot of broth.

“Re?”

“Yeah, bud?” Bisquick puffed over the side of the mixing bowl in a soft cloud.

“My stomach hurts.” Jules’ voice wavered. “And my mouth feels weird.”

Fuck. “Bathroom, hustle.”

The glimpse he caught of Jules before he vanished down the hall confirmed it: pallid skin, dilated pupils, sweat gleaming on the back of his neck. Remus rinsed his hands in the sink and dug the box of Pepto Bismol tablets out of his bag, and sent a silent thanks to whatever small mercy it was that left him without a reactive gag reflex.

He spent twenty minutes sitting sideways with water seeping into his pants from the bathmat. “I’m gonna throw up until I die,” Jules whined, pressing his forehead to Remus’ palm.

“You’re not gonna die. Definitely not while I’m here.” He slid his hand around to press against the nape of Jules’ neck and gave a light squeeze. “You’re almost done. Work it out, buddy.”

“Gonna miss the game?”

Despite the sweat, despite the illness, despite it all—Remus smiled. Of course Jules would be thinking about that when he looked like death warmed over. He wouldn’t be a Lupin with anything else on his mind. “We’ve still got half an hour.”

Jules gave a faint push back into his hand. His lower lip wobbled. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, but it wasn’t even slightly funny. He took a shuddering inhale and sniffled again, harsher. “I don’t want to be sick anymore, I don’t, I’m so done, I don’t like it.”

“Jules…” The redness had flooded his cheeks and ears, inching down his neck with each horribly choked breath. Jules’ eyes were bright, but not like usual. He blinked and a drip tracked down his nose. His exhale wasn’t much of an exhale at all—it wracked him, made him sway. “Oh,” Remus murmured. “Oh, hey, c’mere.”

The edge of thirteen had left Jules gangly, all bones and joints. He still fit just right in the hollow of Remus’ chest and arms. A shivering, overheated mess, but a mess that fit all the same. Fuck it, Remus thought as he tightened his arms around Jules and let him fall apart in the safe dark. He didn’t care if he got sick. This was the most vital emergency he could possibly think of. If the administration had a problem with that, he’d happily turn his gear in before leaving Jules to burn through this alone.

“I’m tired,” Jules whispered through shuddering breaths. “My head hurts ‘n my stomach hurts ‘n everything else, too.”

“I know, bud, you’re being so brave.”

A damp, wounded noise made Remus wince.

“But hey, you haven’t thrown up in, like, five minutes.”

Jules felt around blindly for a tissue and blew his nose several times before answering. “I guess.”

“You ready to get up? Have some dinner and watch the game?”

“Dizzy.”

“Okay.” He pressed the wrinkles out of Jules’ shirt with his palm and felt him go limp. “I brought some super special secret hockey medicine, if that’ll help.”

“…is it Gatorade?”

“No, but we have that, too.” He rattled the box next to Jules’ ear. “Pepto Bismol. My secret weapon.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s the pink sh—stuff.”

“Nice save,” Remus said dryly. “This is the same. It’s easier to keep down, though. And it works faster.”

“Makes my stomach stop hurting?”

“It might help.”

He waited a beat, then two. A clammy palm extended from the tangle of limbs near his middle. He dropped two of the chalky tabs into it and loosened his hold by a degree, enough for Jules to pop them both in his mouth and frown immediately. “Yuck. It’s crunchy.”

“Keep chewing.”

“Why is it coming apart like that?”

“Keep chewing,” Remus repeated through a light laugh. “Doesn’t work if you talk the whole way through.”

Jules tucked his legs closer to himself, pushing him further into Remus’ lap. As horrible as the past twenty minutes had been, he seemed better for it. The fevered sheen to his face wasn’t quite as nuclear. His breathing sounded more even and controlled.

“You finished?”

“Mhmm.”

Jules might have looked better, but Remus didn’t have the energy to fight the coddling urge this time. He slid his free arm across the back of Jules’ knees and hefted him up like a cat gone boneless, and received no protest whatsoever. Instead, Jules curled into him with a long, relieved sigh. Remus’ heart may have shattered a little.

The pregame show was just wrapping up when he set Jules gingerly on the couch and pulled the blanket around him. Half of his waterbottle was gone in a few desperate swallows; Jules wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and all but collapsed onto the throw pillows, a heap of exhaustion. The belltower by the middle school tolled six. His sandy hair was damp at the root when Remus passed a hand through it. They’d fix that eventually. Fluids first (hockey first), then everything else.

New Message From: SB <3

Heading to the rink. Miss you love you : )

Remus smiled down at his phone as he set Jules’ bowl on the coffee table and folded himself into the armchair.

“Tell Sirius I say hi.”

“He’s literally right there,” Remus laughed, gesturing at the TV. “He’s not gonna see it for ages.”

“Still.” Jules poked around with his spoon for a few seconds before attempting a small sip of broth. An approving nod followed. “It’s good.”

“Glad it meets your standards. Eat. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch.”

Jules’ eye roll was weak, but very much present. “I know, I know.”

“You gotta know that stuff.”

“I’m not gonna be a doctor.”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be a person.” Remus cut a dumpling in half with the side of his spoon. “If you don’t know how to feed yourself by the time you move out, I’m totally making fun of you.”

“Whatever.”

They both booed when the Habs skated out, and cheered when the Lions appeared soon after. Jules couldn’t muster much more than a rough whisper, but the soup and a bottle of Gatorade seemed to help. Remus made him get up and stretch during the first period intermission (to immense complaints, but eventual acquiescence) before letting him rest while he washed up in the kitchen.

New Message From: SB <3

First period up.

How’s J?

 

New Message To: SB <3

Haha yeah we’re watching

Temp’s high, still pretty sick. Getting better tho

Made soup

The response was almost immediate. Remus’ heart skipped at the thought of Sirius glued to his phone even after a rough period, just to chat with him.

New Message From: SB <3

Oooo jealous

 

New Message To: SB <3

Yeah you should be

It’s a real rager up here

Miss you. Go get ‘em.

A simple heart and hockey stick emoji followed. The grey bubble cycled for a moment before disappearing. That would be the midgame meeting. Remus was glad to be home—wouldn’t trade this—but he had to admit the hockey ache was still there. Even easy choices had consequences.

By the time he looked back, Jules was asleep. Remus checked his forehead as delicately as he could and was pleased to find it slightly cooler than that morning, if altogether too warm. The pattern of creaky floorboards laid a map in his bones as he moved through the house: first to open Jules’ window, then to let his blankets air out, and while he was at it, he may as well wash the sheets. The nightstand and bookshelf needed to be wiped down. It wasn’t hard to get that done while the washer rumbled on the other side of the hall. In the meantime, the soup had cooled enough to pack up in Tupperware to stack in the fridge for later. Who knew if Jules would suddenly get his appetite back? The kid was a bear when he was hungry.

He lingered for the end of the second period and swapped the sheets into the dryer at the start of the third with a cookie and a cup of Emergen-C for himself. He damn well better not catch whatever germs Jules had percolated from the hellscape of middle school. Sirius had called him ‘stubbornly healthy’ on too many occasions for it to be disproven. Besides, the administration might actually fire him if he came back from an emergency and was immediately out for three more games.

“Re?”

The sound of a quiet voice took Remus’ off-guard in the last few minutes of the third period. “What’s up?”

Jules shifted around until he could prop his chin on the throw pillow and blink blearily at Remus. “Did we win?”

“Game’s still going. 4-3, Lions.”

“How much time?”

“Just under five.”

Jules attempted a whistle, though it came out as more of a shaky breath. “Almost there.”

“Dad texted. They’ll be home in a few, traffic was rough.”

“Oh, okay.” A small smile lit his face. He burrowed back under the blanket. “That’s good.”

“They’ve been asking about you all day.”

“Did’ja tell them I was fine?”

“Something like that.” Sort of. Maybe. He had been gentle about it, at least. Gory details would only make them panic.

He made sure to poke Jules awake for the last minute of the game before shepherding him down the hall to brush his teeth and shower. It was only 8:30, but Remus felt weary all the way to his core. He made Jules’ bed while the water ran and tried to tuck the sheets in along the wall a little deeper this time, just in case one tried to end up on the floor again. If he had the time, he may as well do it right, pinched fingers notwithstanding.

It was all worth it when Jules trudged back into his bedroom and threw himself into bed, only to gasp aloud. “Aw, man, this is great.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus laughed.

“Oh, wow.” The bumps of Jules’ feet kicked happily under layers of fabric and down. “It’s all warm, and cozy…”

“Get some sleep,” he reminded him, and turned out the big light. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

He made it halfway across Jules’ carpet.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You—” The faint outline of Jules’ head was backlit by his lamp. Remus could see the shadows of his hands fidgeting with the top blanket. “Will you…can you tell me about the soup stuff? The proteins and all that.”

Remus hesitated. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Jules said with a surprisingly enthusiastic nod. “It sounds cool.”

“I mean—yeah, sure. Uh…” Jules’ desk chair looked wildly uncomfortable for this time of night, so edge of the bed it was, he supposed. The sheets provided a nice cushion when he sat. “Okay, have you ever heard of macromolecules?”

“That’s a made-up word.”

“It’s what you’re made up of, actually. How about DNA? You know that one?”


Lyall opened the front door with a muttered curse for the bitter wind and the worse traffic. It was brutally unfair that the one day he tried to come home early, everything went to hell and kept him an age and a half longer. What kind of karma came after a father trying to get home to his sick kid?

“It’s awfully quiet,” Hope remarked behind him. The door opened at last; warm air rushed over them. “Boys? Are you up?”

The NHL postgame show was playing at a low volume, next to a plate with crumbs on it and a mug so old the pattern had washed off it. One of Hope’s blankets from her knitting phase was haphazardly piled on the couch. The evidence of both of them there, present and accounted for and safe, plucked at his heartstrings. “Why do I feel like this is exactly where they sat for the entire day?”

She shook her head. “Good for them. I’m jealous. Remus? Julian? Are you home?”

Remus’ bedroom door was closed. The bathroom fan was still on, and steam clung to the corners of the mirror next to a still-damp towel. It couldn’t have been long since they went to bed, then. Lyall pushed Julian’s bedroom door open wider and covered his mouth with his palm.

They had nearly rendered each other invisible, save for Remus’ legs stretched over the side of the bed and Julian’s arm resting atop his pile of blankets. Julian’s congested snoring drowned out the heavy, even rhythm of Remus’ breathing. As far as he could tell, only one of them had actually been prepared for bed.

“Oh my goodness,” Hope whispered at his shoulder. Her grin was radiant, even half-covered by her palm. “I don’t want to move them.”

“Re’s going to wake up with one hell of a side cramp if we let him sleep like that.”

“You do it, then.”

“…no.”

Hope scoffed fondly and tossed her hands in the air, then kissed him on the jaw as she stepped deeper into the bedroom. The whole place felt lighter, Lyall noticed. Julian had been holed up in here for two days, refusing to come out for anything but necessities. Whatever Remus had done, it worked wonders.

“Remus,” Hope singsonged in her quietest voice. She shook his shoulder, soft enough that for a moment, Lyall forgot Remus wasn’t a toddler anymore. “Baby, you need to wake up. It’s bedtime.”

“ ‘M asleep,” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes. “In my bed.”

“This isn’t your bed, lovey,” she laughed. “Come on, up you go.”

“Goin’ to sleep, promise.” His eyelashes fluttered, nose crinkling. “Talking ‘bout—‘bout proteins. Jules wanted to know.”

At the head of the bed, Julian didn’t show so much as a hint of waking. Lyall stepped forward and braced his hands under Remus’ arms, then hoisted him into a sitting position as gently as he could manage with the unexpected weight of an athlete to counterbalance him.

Remus jolted, startling into consciousness. “Woah—

“Shh, shh.” Lyall helped him stand on clumsy legs and guided him to the door with a last playful glance at Hope. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

“Fell asleep.” Remus blinked hard. “Jules’ bed. Wanted me to stay. Time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Oh, god, ‘s early.” A yawn overtook him, spilling more of his weight into Lyall. He didn’t seem to know where his own feet were, but he went easily into the room next door.

“Alright,” Lyall huffed as he helped Remus stumble toward the bed and splay over the mattress. That old thing was definitely too small for him these days. Funny, how times changed so rapidly. That same bed used to make Remus look like nothing more than a pile of sheets. “Brush your teeth?”

A drawn-out snore answered him.

Lyall smiled to himself in the darkness and ruffled the back of Remus’ hair. “Night, Re.”

A single socked foot twitched in response. That was good enough for him.

(Jules’ fever broke the next morning. By the end of the day, he was well enough to go with them to the airport and give Remus the fiercest goodbye hug either of them had experienced, with a pinky-promise that the Lions would win the next game he played.)

Chapter 96: Fallout

Summary:

Regulus' friends uncover the truth

Chapter Text

I.

Regulus was really good at not crying. Not crying was the easiest thing in the world. Instead of letting himself get worked up until he spilled over, he could just…not do that. He could swallow it down. Choke it back. The problem was that once he started crying, he couldn’t stop, and since nobody would care either way, it wasn’t worth the effort and embarrassment. He was a grown man. He’d been through worse.

Worse than a B minus, at least.

He was pretty sure.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he answered mildly. “And yourself?”

Jax’s mouth turned down at the sides. “Uh, can’t complain. What’s…what’s going on?”

Regulus shrugged one shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to close the tab of his failure. “Preparing for the week.”

“Right.” Jax didn’t sound like they believed him. Unfortunate. He used to be a much better liar.

“I always do that.”

“I know.”

Odd. He hadn’t expected them to know his habits. It had only been three months.

“You seem—” Jax broke off, setting their bag down on the floor with an unusually delicate touch. They leaned against the edge of their desk and gave him a funny look. “Do you want to talk?”

Regulus’ gut twisted on reflex. “About what?”

It came out too harsh—they shrank back slightly, shoulders drooping, dark eyes flicking away. He should apologize. He should.

“What would you like to talk about?” he tried instead.

“Dunno.” That was another thing he was getting used to: the way people started speaking just to speak, to fill the silence. Jax rarely second-guessed their words. Even now, they shifted their weight from one hip to the other only once before beginning again. “I was at the gym this afternoon.”

A strange thing to note. He waited for them to continue; when they didn’t, he mustered an encouraging noise.

“So if you’re ever interested…”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Well, I—if you’re interested—”

“Why would you want that?” What was it about college that made people so vague?

Jax gestured at him with one hand. “I don’t know! You’re in good shape, I guess I figured you were there anyways. And it seems dumb to go at different times when we live together.”

“But then we don’t have to argue for the shower.”

Regulus wasn’t always good at facial expressions, but even he could read the exasperation (though not irritation) in the set of Jax’s eyes and mouth. “I want to spend time with you,” they said bluntly. Kindly. Almost like Sirius, without his awkwardness. They tilted their head to look at him. “You don’t have to, but we haven’t had a lot of time to just hang out. I’m going for a shared hobby here, man.”

Hobby. Regulus didn’t recall the last time he worked out for fun. Never, probably. Running out his feelings on a treadmill made him less likely to curl up under his blankets in a screaming possum ball, but it wasn’t necessarily fun.

In his periphery, his computer screen dimmed. His heart went with it when he wiggled his computer mouse and the reminder of everything bad in the world glared back. “I don’t know if I can,” he said carefully. “I just failed out of English, so I should probably focus on that.”

Wh—” Jax’s eyebrows shot toward their hairline before knitting in the middle. “How do you know that? It’s not the end of the semester.”

Regulus jerked his chin toward the screen. They followed his gaze. Looked back at him. Back to the computer. Back to Regulus.

“You’re looking at me like that explains everything,” they finally said.

“It’s a. Um.” Bitterness filled his mouth. “B minus.”

“And?”

Are you stupid? Regulus bit his tongue hard enough to make his eyes water. “It’s a B minus,” he repeated. “And so they’re going to kick me out.”

Jax let out a long breath, as if they were holding many things back. Regulus didn’t like it when they did that. He’d feel much better if they just told him they pitied him outright. “That’s not…no, that’s not how that works. Reg, no professor will fail you out of their class because of a B minus.”

The part of his brain that had been running through various explanations when he inevitably slunk back to Sirius’ doorstep came to a sputtering standstill. “Excuse me?”

“Dude, that’s not even a failing grade.”

Something next to his lungs began to shake. “Explain, please.”

“A C is considered average. You’re above average. Do you know that?” Jax’s concern crept back into their face. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

Average.

Above average.

He had been screamed at for above average. Lived in terror of doing his best and being found lacking for above average.

The fury was white-hot and all-consuming, and unexpected enough that he had to blink several times in quick succession to clear the burning from his eyes.

“Reg?”

“Excuse me,” he muttered. He tried to stand and found he couldn’t so much as twitch for fear of combustion.

“Hey.” Jax’s voice gentled. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kindness was the cruelest thing university could have given him. It was too-tight shoes and a necktie done just wrong on game day. Regulus felt his nostrils flare around a few deep breaths. A pulsing rod blazed just behind his eye. “You didn’t. Sorry. Yes, we should work out together sometime. Text me when you’re free.”

He stood on unsteady feet, left the dorm, and began to walk.

 

II.

“Don’t move, don’t move—”

“Shut the fuck up and do not touch me.”

The pain was overwhelming. Regulus’ temple throbbed from the force of squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel them all there, crowding him, closing in with their worry, holding their breath because he was angry and scared and angry because he was scared and scared because he was angry and in pain. And in pain.

He could work through pain. He had done it so many times.

Breathe. His chest didn’t hurt. His shoulders didn’t hurt. His stomach didn’t hurt. The throbbing below his waist could wait until he had taken a few deep breaths.

“Reg?”

Analyze. His leg was too hot and too cold at the same time. Everything below his left hip echoed his pulse, but his shin had a special kind of searing to it. His palms, too. Someone’s fingertips hovered at his pulse point and he twitched away. They stopped. They left him alone.

Do not cry.

The corners of his eyes were too wet in the gentle breeze.

Step Three: Do Not Cry.

“Reg, are you alright?” Kris’ reedy voice should have grated on him.

“I’m fine.” His voice wavered, but did not break. He unclenched his fists and flexed them, wincing at the sting of scraped skin. He took a sharp breath and wiggled his toes—no immediate pain. His leg muscles constricted when he told them to, relaxed when he breathed out.

Move on.

He went to bend his knee and immediately heard four people stumble over each other to stop him.

“You’re fine,” Jax said near his right ear. “But also, please don’t do that.”

Regulus opened one eye and frowned up at them. “Pick one.”

Jax hesitated a half-second longer than his patience. Regulus muttered a curse under his breath and sat up, grimacing at the carnage. The heels of his hands were trashed from the concrete; they would need full gauze, without a doubt. The gash running down his shin bled freely onto his (favorite) jeans and was beginning to seep out onto the ground. He sighed. “That’s not ideal.”

“Can we help?” Kris asked, all big eyes and bigger heart while he fiddled with the zipper of his first-aid kit. “I’d prefer to get a bandage on that before you move much, but we need to wash it out.”

Regulus tried to keep the judgement off his face. It seemed rude. “That’s not necessary,” he said. “But thanks. Pardon.”

Standing turned out to be a bad idea after all. The first bit of weight made his entire bad leg buckle and he narrowly missed crumpling on the ground for the second time in five minutes. Pain lanced up to his hip; Regulus dug his hands into the sidewalk to anchor himself, and when that only made it all hurt worse, settled for a handful of measured breaths.

The touch to his shoulder blade was featherlight. “Let me help,” Vanessa said softly.

Regulus hesitated. Better up than on the concrete, he supposed. He just—what if she couldn’t hold him?

She waited for him to nod before holding a hand out for him to take. Deadlift calluses and a firm grip reminded him just enough of Leo to not pull away when she braced her other hand behind his elbow and hoisted him upright, catching him when he swayed into her. “Easy,” she soothed. “Take your time.”

Regulus felt himself buffer, eyes fixed on her. Thick, dark hair drifted into her face in tiny wisps where it escaped her ponytail. She frowned down at the jagged rock that had cut into him like it personally wronged her.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. The upset vanished from her round face when she looked up again; there was a light squeeze to his torso. He got his weight under him, and yet she didn’t let go. Vanessa’s hold didn’t falter as they limped their way down the sidewalk, supported on every step.

He caught Jax’s eye as they turned toward the engineering building and found them already smiling.

 

III.

It’s a dumb movie, anyway.

That’s what Regulus told himself, listening to Clare sniffle while Kris watched the screen in openmouthed horror next to him. Jax’s description had been vague at best—something about a house and balloons and an old man’s emotional support Boy Scout.

But here they were, five minutes in, with no sign of balloons, Boy Scouts, or emotional support to be found. Just utter devastation and the inevitable march of death in spite of overwhelming love.

Goddamn mailbox, he thought. This whole problem could have been avoided if those two didn’t love each other to the ends of the earth. Which, of course, only made him think of Sirius’ ability to love with his entire heart and he really hoped Remus didn’t die first because that would be such a nightmare for everyone involved and oh, god, Sirius was going to die someday and leave him there—

“I forgot about this part,” Jax whispered in the darkness of the dorm. Their voice was only just loud enough for Regulus to hear over the movie.

He exhaled, and was surprised by how shaky it sounded to his own ears. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” they said sympathetically. “Fuckin’ Pixar. Need a minute?”

Regulus shook his head.

“ ‘Kay.” They sat quietly for another few seconds. A shoulder pressed gently against his own. “Let me know if you do, though.”

 

+1:

On an unassuming Thursday in April, it happened. The hammer came down. The other shoe dropped. Regulus’ luck ran out, the final bits drip-drip-dripping out into the ether and leaving him in a dead end of his own making.

In a way, it was inevitable.

“Holy shit,” Kris said, quiet and stunned and slower than Jax had ever heard him. His green eyes were blown wide; what had been a comfortable sprawl across his mattress for over an hour was now tense, the catch of breath before a scream. One airpod sat snug in his ear. His phone was lax in his hand and utterly innocent from Jax’s side of the room, save for Kris’ look of growing horror among his confusion.

“Kris?” they ventured. Kris remained silent. Jax’s pulse kicked. “What happened? Come on, man, that’s ominous as hell.”

“It’s Reg.”

Jax’s heart skipped a beat and fell right into the canyon below. “What?

“He’s—” Kris’ mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t…”

“Is he hurt?” Their phone was here somewhere, buried under their notebooks goddamnit their mother was right about the organizing bins— “Kris, is he hurt? What happened?”

“He’s famous.”

They stuttered to a stop with their hand buried in the mess of their backpack.

“I think—I think he is? Or was. Or something. Hey, did you know he played hockey?”

Jax stared at him, then shook their head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come see this.” Kris finally looked up, motioning them over with his head as if he couldn’t let go of the damn phone. “Come here, c’mere.”

“Are you seriously about to make me watch a Tik…”

“Regulus, do you have any comments on the rivalry being set up between you and your brother? Does it get in the way of your personal relationship with Sirius at all, being on the Lions and the Snakes?”

“My brother’s got a dirty game—”

Jax didn’t hear the next few words. They were a little too concerned with the sudden absence of the floor beneath their feet.

“—don’t endorse that sort of hockey.”

“And your personal relationship? How about Thanksgiving?”

“What personal relationship?”

Jax closed their eyes. It wasn’t enough.

“As far as I’m concerned, he might as well stay away with the rest of his pack of cubs—”

“Stop.”

Light music halted and left the room in the soft rattle of their ancient radiator.

“This isn’t—stop,” they repeated, though Kris had long since abandoned his phone on the sheers. His pale hands were pressed against his mouth. Jax felt their skin crawl. “This isn’t right. I’m not watching that.”

“He looks sick.”

“Yeah. Jesus, yeah.” Something was wrong in that video. Regulus’ bright, clever eyes were emptier than a scoured pot. A scrape marred his cheek. The violent green of his uniform—jersey, maybe? Or just a shirt?—washed him into a greyed-out version of himself. His hair was cropped harsh and short above his ears, hardly a curl in sight.

Someone was laughing in the background of the video. Jax didn’t like the way he looked at Regulus. There were too many cameras and microphones shoved into his space; Regulus wouldn’t like that, either.

“He doesn’t talk about his brother that way.”

“No,” Kris agreed in a murmur. “No, he doesn’t.”

Not that Regulus talked about his family often, but on the rare occasion it came up, Sirius was always the first one he mentioned. Jax had met him back in September—tall and broad and handsome, with a barking laugh and a voice that carried. Regulus gravitated to him like a magnet, though Jax wasn’t sure it was a conscious habit.

What personal relationship? He might as well stay away.

Kris was right. He did look sick in that video.

“Can you…” God, this felt wrong, but they had to know. “Can I use your phone real quick?”

Kris’ sideways glance made them swallow convulsively. Nevertheless, he picked up his phone.

Search: Regulus Black

Buzzfeed: NHL DROPOUT APPLIES TO…

ESPN: Regulus Black: Where Is He Now?

NHLWorld: Black Jerseys 70% Off—Everything Must…

Hockey Daily Magazine: Broken Contract and Rumors of Court!

#BlackBash

#RegulusBlack

#RegulusBlackSnakes

#BlackSlytherin

#BlackBrothers

#Playoffs2020

#AllStars2020

“Holy shit…”

NHLNews: Player Abuse in Sly…

#RegulusBlackCollege

#RegulusBlackSiriusBlack

@ hockeypalooza: I’m sorry but Regulus Black was the best player that team had ever…

@ slythlife: Black better not show his face in slyth ever again I stg

“When was that taken?”

Kris’ throat bobbed. He turned his phone off. “Last November.”

Jax pressed their fingers to their temples and let a sour breath out. This was too much. Too much. Their skull was going to implode. “Okay. Okay. Christ. Okay. Reg was famous, he left, he’s here now, it doesn’t matter.”

“We can’t tell him we know.” Kris stared into the middle distance—or, no, at Regulus’ bed. Always made, but a little wonky, like he was still figuring out how to do it right. A loose sock laid on the floor by one of his astrophysics books. “He doesn’t want us to know, or he would have said something. I’ve never heard him mention hockey. He said sports weren’t his thing.”

“He was a professional player.”

“For, what, half a season?” Kris’ lips pursed. “I’m not telling him we know. He left for a reason. Fine. That’s his business. He’ll say something when he’s—”

A key scraped against their door lock and Jax…Jax’s organs discovered the miracle of negative acceleration along the y-axis.

Regulus stepped in and slung his bag onto his desk chair. He opened his mouth to speak, saw them, and stopped. Stopped, like a deer staring down a Ford-F150. Every muscle primed and wound tight, as if someone had pressed ‘pause’ on the rotation of the world. His fingertip hovered in the handle-loop of his backpack.

“Oh,” he said simply. “Oh, no.”

And he left.

“Wait,” Kris called, far too weak and far too late. Jax’s brain refocused all in a rush—they both scrambled for the door, slipping on shoes and snatching wallets off whatever horizontal surface they called home.

“Shit, shit shit, shit,” Jax muttered. They shouldn’t have done this. They shouldn’t have looked. Kris was always right, always reasonable, never knee-jerk, so much better at this. They should have known better than to dig where they shouldn’t.

“I’ll check the library,” Kris said, jamming his phone in his back pocket. “I’ll—mother of fuck, this is not what I wanted. I’m deleting TikTok. And Google, fucking Google?

Jax’s jaw throbbed with tooth-locking guilt. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have looked, I’m so sorry.”

“Abuse cases? Abuse cases.” Kris swore again and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fine. Alright. I’ve got the library. Text if you find him first. Holy shit.”

“I’m telling Vanessa to keep an eye out.”

“Good, yeah, whatever.”

Jax fought every urge to sprint down the hallway. Regulus was already long gone. Causing a scene wasn’t going to help. He probably wouldn’t come back to the apartment unless they found him first. Maybe ever. Oh, god, Jax would never forgive themselves if Reg left because they were a nosy little shit with no poker face.

For the first time, Jax wished NYU didn’t span a million city blocks. A fenced-in Ivy in the middle of nowhere would make them miserable, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to corner his flighty roommate when his hiding place wasn’t the entirety of New York City.

Well—well.

Regulus’ backpack was still in the dorm. He kept his wallet in the side pocket, zippered up tight. No MetroCard meant no subways. No student ID meant no twenty-story buildings to slip into. Regulus’ Ultra Panic Mode meant…nothing good, but at least he wouldn’t go far. Jax’s stomach twisted more than usual at the thought of him falling apart alone.

They shot off another text to Vanessa (whose string of ????? was the only correct response to their disaster of an initial message) and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

For a day with the potential to ruin a new and treasured portion of Jax’s life, it was quite beautiful out. The air was crisp and only reeked a little from the crusty hot dog stand down the block; the massive column sticking out of a manhole was missing its usual billow of subway steam and left the sky an unmarred blue above them. They were learning to like the spring on this coast. It was cold, sure, but if they wanted it to feel more like home, they would have gone to California. New York was their escape in every sense. They just—

They just really didn’t want to lose Regulus.

They hadn’t been sure what to make of him at first: so quiet, so reserved, every emotion leashed. But then he was kind and smart and funny in his weird way. He hadn’t fumbled a pronoun since the first day. He came home early from winter break, just so Jax and Vanessa wouldn’t be alone for their last holiday week after flights home fell through.

It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t like them. It was just that he was so very afraid of some looming shadow that had remained unnamed until that very afternoon. Jax couldn’t even blame him for it. If hockey made Regulus that ill, it was a small wonder he did everything in his power to leave it behind.

The bell of the narrow bookstore on 14th street chimed when they entered. The corner seat was unchanged, down to the burnt-orange cushion with a torn side seam. The rest of the shop vanished behind a massive chestnut shelf when they sat, folding their legs up. It was nice in here. Dim lights and a quiet heater. The owner had swapped out the winter candles for fresher springtime scents just a few weeks before.

“I never lied.”

“I know.” They stretched one leg out to roll the tension from their ankle. “You okay?”

“Non. How did you find out?”

His accent was thicker. Upset was etched in every angle in the corner of Jax’s vision. Shame wedged icy fingers between their ribs. “A video popped up on Kris’ TikTok feed. We shouldn’t have watched it.”

“I wouldn’t have told you.”

 “I figured.”

“I wasn’t—I was trying—” Regulus’ jaw ticked. His forehead furrowed as he picked at the laces of his shoes. “You have no idea what it was like. The way it got twisted up, I—and I didn’t want it, and I couldn’t leave.”

Don’t fucking cry.

“I couldn’t get out. Not until that game.” They saw him shake his head minutely. “I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have tried.”

“What game?”

“The…” Regulus turned to look at them then, eyes narrowed. “What was in the video?”

My brother’s got a dirty game. What personal relationship?

“You were in a room. I don’t know, there was a lot of hockey stuff around. People had stuff all up in your face.” Jax brought a fingernail to their mouth and bit absently at it. “It was an interview, something about your brother.”

Fuck.”

The quiet ferocity of it made their heart clench in surprise. Regulus tipped his head back against the cool window. The edges of his lips had gone white with tension and Jax had never felt such regret for honesty in their entire life.

“I hate that fucking video.” It came out hoarse. Jax’s belly went Gordian. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No, dude, I’m sorry. We should have scrolled past it. We should’ve—we should have waited for you to tell us.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t,” Jax said gently. “And that’s fine.”

Regulus’ mouth turned down at the corner. “I can be out by Saturday.”

In the throes of disbelief, all they could do was shake their head. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t bring a lot of stuff. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Reg, what are you talking about?”

An owl-eyed stare pinned Jax; intense, but not angry. They had been prepared for anger. Not…whatever this was. “Why are you here?” he asked carefully.

“To apologize? Because Kris and I fucked up and you left before we could say anything?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Jax insisted. “And clearly not enough people have apologized to you even once in your life, ‘cause it’s shitty when your secrets come out and it’s scary and so I’m here for you. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For this, and for all those assholes who made you play hockey when you were meant to be a space nerd.”

Of all the reactions to a sudden outburst Jax had expected, a trembling lower lip wasn’t one of them.

“Oh, god.” Panic pulsed in their chest. “Was that too much?”

“I hate that fucking video,” Regulus whispered, voice breaking. His eyes welled with tears. Jax’s tongue turned to lead in their mouth.

This couldn’t possibly be real. Not this. Not sitting in a hole-in-the-wall bookstore while Regulus took stuttering breaths around tears he didn’t seem to know how to handle. “Hey,” Jax said softly. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Regulus muttered angrily, scrubbing at his cheeks with shaking hands. “Fuck—merde, one second.”

“It’s okay.”

“Non, stop it.”

We’re doing this. We’re doing this. “Reg, it’s fine. Is this—is this alright?”

Regulus froze up at the tentative touch to his shoulder. Jax waited, heart in their throat, before Regulus gave a slight, pained nod and leaned ever so slightly into them. It was incredibly heartbreaking and also deeply weird, the way Jax supposed it would feel to pet a wild tiger in a zoo.

Worst of all, it made sense. The mottled skin of Regulus’ ankles. His careful silence, only broken in the presence of a few friends. He had hardly spoken unless spoken to until January. Jax had seen skates, just once, tucked in the corner of his closet behind his laundry bag.

They had chalked it up to the Canadian thing. One of their stupider moments, looking back.

“Please don’t leave.”

Regulus paused with his sleeve pressed below his nose. “Quoi?”

“It’s…” There was a dent in the hardwood beneath the toe of their sneaker. “I mean, you’re my best friend. So I’d like it if you stayed. If you want.”

The request felt too fragile. The wound, too raw. Would Regulus be angry that they asked?

“Why would you want that?” Regulus asked after several beats of empty air between them. He sounded mystified by the very thought.

“You’re my best friend.” The corners of their eyes stung. They gave Regulus a little pulse of pressure, the shadow of a hug. “I’d miss you if you left.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t make you leave if you don’t want to.”

A tear glimmered in the light as it fell from Regulus’ cheekbone to his jaw, where he brushed it on the sleeve of his shirt. The cuffs were stretched, like he’d been gripping them in iron hands; they matched the frayed hems of his hoodies in a rather sickening way. “I want to stay.”

Thank god.”

A rueful smile pulled at Regulus’ mouth. “You know, you might be the first person who wanted me around.”

“That’s so…” There were no words. Literally nothing could encompass the fresh-scrape sting of each new layer of tragic backstory peeling away. “Is there any part of your life story that isn’t depressing as hell?”

“Probably not,” Regulus snorted.

He was warm under Jax’s palm. The shivering had stopped. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Merci.”

“Do you—”

“No.”

They nodded and mimed zipping their lips, and it made Regulus smile just a little, so it was worth it. He hadn’t pulled away from their one-handed hug yet. Jax counted that as a victory. It was sort of like washing a wound in the ocean: it stung like a bitch, but they were better for it in the end. Regulus’ wounds had been opened and reopened for nineteen years by uncaring hands. His cleanse was going to burn more than most. But even if gifts baffled him and kind words made him grimace and hugs were—whatever this was, Jax would be there. This time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter 97: Shiver

Summary:

PT Remus + trauma response, ft. Moody comfort

Chapter Text

Call for stretcher on standby before moving out. Careful on the patch by the bench—always extra slippery. Check pulse and breath, then pupil constriction. Pen light in the shirt pocket. Players take a knee to make space. Use your body to block the camera in the right corner.

Remus knew what he was supposed to do. Of course he did. He just…couldn’t move.

“EMTs on standby!”

This was a strange feeling, not moving. It wasn’t even that—a choice. It was a complete and total absence. What was the opposite? Stillness? He didn’t feel still. He didn’t feel as if something had taken the place of motion. A gap had been scooped out of his belly, and nothing had come to fill it. It was simple emptiness where there had been adrenaline five seconds before.

“Lupin, catch up on Vance’s left!”

Had his ears always rung at that pitch? Funny. He hadn’t noticed.

Lupin!

Perhaps they had. Perhaps someone in the crowd had brought a whistle. There were an awful lot of people crowding the rink.

“Hey—” Weight and pressure collided with the back of his neck. Remus felt something in him go dim, powered off. “Kid, let’s fucking go! Are you asleep out here?”

James’ feet were flexing in his skates. Restriction of the tibialis anterior from the pain. Vastus medialis, following. His knee bent and bowed inward. If he kept the writhing up, there would be strain on the gastrocnemius and soleus. Remus blinked hard. James’ legs tended to ache after practice. The man got calf cramps like nobody he’d ever seen.

“Jesus Christ,” the hand on his neck muttered. It moved away. Pressure released.

“Rapid breathing, strain in the calf,” Remus blurted. His eye twitched. Blinking took incredible effort. “He’s going to try and stand up. Stop, James, stop it—”

Careful on the patch by the bench. He sidestepped without a second thought. In two strides, he was looking at James’ flushed and sweaty face. “Holy fuck, my fuckin’ arm, on fucking fire—”

“Pots.” His neck was burning up under Remus’ two fingers. Ten seconds, 25 thumps. “150 bpm,” Remus informed the nearest trainer. The pen light was ice-cold in his fingers. “James, give me a big deep breath.”

“Loops—”

“I’ll count to four while you breathe in, and then we’re gonna let it out for four.” His own voice reverberated back to him from a thousand miles away. Ice dampened the knees of his khakis. James gritted his teeth; his nostrils flared. “One, two, three, four. Good job. And four, three, two, one. Nice, buddy. Pupil activity normal, breathing unimpaired. You said it was your arm, right? Up or down?”

“All of it,” James panted. “All—fuck me, Loops, don’t talk to me right now—”

“Almost done, J. Wiggle your fingers.” A faint roaring had started up in the back of his mind. It crept into his eardrums and down his back. Something trickled down his spine and tiptoed through the marrow of each rib. James’ fingers twitched. “Great work. Alright, they’re going to slide you onto the stretcher now. Keep taking those big breaths for me.”

Black, Dumais, and Walker were all hovering in the corner of his eye like crimson-and-black bloodstains. They blurred together as the roaring grew louder. Remus staggered to his feet. His pen light wobbled in his fingers, and he shoved it clumsily into his back pocket. Black stepped forward, quiet as a ghost on his skates. “Is he okay?”

“Um—I don’t—” The left edge of his vision blurred into grey. “I don’t diagnose. Possible elbow dislocation. Or radial or ulnar break. Likely not the humerus.”

“But is he okay?” Black pressed. The stretcher was so yellow against the ice it hurt to look at.

Remus’ throat squeezed. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Probably out for a couple games. ‘Scuse me.”

Christ on a crutch, he was going to throw up if he didn’t get out of here right fucking now.

Black wasn’t looking at him anymore. Walker was talking to James as they loaded him up and began rolling him off the ice. Dumais…

Dumais was staring at him dead-on. Remus swallowed hard, and saw him lean over to whisper at Moody.

Would he—could they fire him for this? He thought he did okay. Pulse, pupils, penlight, ice patch. Four for four. He had been slow getting off the bench, but that was an abnormality. Nothing they needed to be concerned about for the future. There wouldn’t be a repeat performance. There wouldn’t, there wouldn’t.

He couldn’t feel his knees.

Moody was walking toward him.

Remus just barely managed to stumble back onto solid ground in the wake of the stretcher before Moody caught up. Barely. The flex of his hands was starting to hurt. Sweat and chemicals and terror washed his nose with acid.

“Lupin?”

He could feel plasticky foam on his cheek. It itched. Stung.

“Hey, kid, you with me?”

In the distance, his mouth coughed out a mumble. Fingers snapped under his nose. He couldn’t bring himself to flinch. If he flinched, the hands on his body were going to wrench his life out through his shoulder.

“Walk with me.”

Pressure on his upper back. A lurch.

Pale wood door. Heavy lock. Cold handle. Man door hand hook car door. Jules thought that was the funniest ghost story in the whole world.

“Sit.”

It was less of a sit, more of a controlled fall, and the easiest thing Remus had done in the past half hour. Something heavy fell over his shoulders.

“Hand.”

Man door hand hook car door.

Rough hands took one of his own between them. His wrist was full of gel instead of bones. Cooling gel? Ice pack. James was going to need—“Ice packs. Pots needs ice packs.”

His palm was clammy when it pressed to the base of his own throat. “We’ll have some ready when the docs are done.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. “160 bpm.”

“Take some breaths.”

An inhale sounded gaspy in the underwater buzz of the rink. An exhale rushed out all at once. He felt a little push to the back of his hand, and his fingers curled over his collarbone. The heel of his palm was solid against his sternum. The hollow of his throat gave slightly under his thumb. “130 bpm.”

“Keep going.”

“My neck.”

Extensive damage. Rhomboid. Deltoid. Trapezius. All the way into the splenius, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the hit or the dislocation or being pinned. A seat of salt poured into his mouth. He could taste it, the inside of a glove and the chemicals they used to clean the locker room mats. His head throbbed, pounded, he couldn’t see.

“145 bpm.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?”

“Strain potential whiplash impact.” Words tripped over each other to explain with complexity the situation did not need.

The hand over his own vanished, leaving cool air. Fingertips pushed gently against the sides of his neck. “Keep breathing, Lupin.”

A thumb ran along the outside of his spine and the floor came into focus. Prodding, palpating. Gentle despite the rasp of calluses at his nape. Steady, not gripping. He could pull away if he wanted to.

“I don’t feel damage.” A push beneath his ear. “Just some tension. Rate?”

Remus exhaled. “110.”

“Good work.”

“Thank you.”

“You interns and your manners,” Moody muttered. A few blinks brought his face back, all scrutiny and scowls. Remus had learned not to take it personally. “Relax, Lupin. Hand stays there until you’re under a hundred, you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

He was so lucky. He was so lucky. They were so kind to him here. He would try to deserve it.

“I’m sorry.”

Moody stood and pumped some sanitizer into his palm. The sharp tang chased out the bitter chemicals lingering in Remus’ memory. He sat back in his rolling chair, half-watching the game on the corner TV while his glass eye remained focused just over Remus’ shoulder. “Why?”

“Froze up.”

Moody set his bad leg up on a footstool with a grunt. “Rate?”

“90.”

“Where’d you go out there?”

A locker room, two years and a thousand miles away. “College.”

“Bad hit?”

Remus took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Moody nodded. “Gonna be a problem?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“Tell me if it is.” On the screen, Kasey made a beautiful save. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” Sweat was beginning to freeze on his skin; he shivered. He took his palm off his neck and tucked it under his thighs, but missed the pressure above his heart almost instantly. The light blanket over his back wasn’t much more than a thin comfort. “I just—I don’t know. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“You’re young. You learn.”

“James was down.”

“It was five seconds, Lupin.” Moody’s voice wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel, either. “You did your job. Now you know.”

The back of his throat prickled. He managed a nod.

“You know, Heather is a resource for all Lions staff.”

It’s not that simple, he wanted to say. But—it could be. Maybe. Not right now, when he was teetering on the tightrope between two worlds, but soon. He could do that for Moody and James and Arthur and maybe, just a little, for himself.

Notes:

All fics originally posted to tumblr at @/fruitcoops!

Series this work belongs to: