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I glanced at him, framed in the doorway. Instinctively standing up straighter, mindful of my posture. All the things Coach usually put so much weight on. Only it was clear that it wasn’t me he had eyes for, now.

Luke smiled. “Hey.”

It wasn’t an angry frown - hell, I’d seen Coach’s angry frown enough times to recognize it - but a confused one.

“You... came.”

A shrug. “You did say I could.”

Coach’s forehead creased. “Well, yes.”

If I could hear the unspoken “but” then I had to assume Luke did, too. Not that he seemed inclined to focus on it.

“They did well. Your team, I mean.”

Finally, Coach seemed to remember I was standing there. He flashed me a sharp look, as if his boyfriend’s praise was somehow my doing.

“They did alright.”

Luke chuckled. “All but one won, and that last one was a technicality.” He shook his head. “This is putting all your moody reports of dire performance into a whole new context, you realize?”

Coach’s scowl was legendary, though there was something different to it now. A complexity I didn’t have the right words for.

“I believe you have the locker room to tidy up, freshman. Right?”

I nodded, lip caught between my teeth. Was about to turn to go.

“Eoin, wait a second.” Luke glanced between us. “Did you ask, then?”

For a moment I wasn’t sure who the question was directed to. Racked my brain for what the right answer might be.

Coach, though, picked up on the thread of it much quicker.

“No. Not... no, I didn’t.”

Luke snorted. “And all that ‘I suppose there’s no harm in it’ and ‘maybe it would be a good idea, they’re a decent group of kids’ stuff...”

There were lots of things I wanted to ask Coach’s partner about, but how he could be immune to his boyfriend’s death-glare was top of the list.

After a moment - the furious expression proving futile - Coach grunted in clear frustration. He turned to me, with a sharpness that usually suggested I was about to become the recipient of a shit-ton of high volume “constructive criticism” about my recent performance.

Instead, the man looked positively awkward.

“Eoin. My... well, Luke and I do a camping trip. Every year, usually. And it was suggested...”

Luke coughed, pointedly.

Coach rolled his eyes, visibly irate. “I thought, it might be a trip you and your teammates would be interested in joining.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times.

“You... want us to go on a trip with you?”

Coach’s frown deepened. “It’s not mandatory,” he said, sharply.

“Christ, Anthony.”

The two men shared a look. When Coach finally met my eyes again, his expression was softer. Well, slightly softer, anyway.