Fleur de Sel
O'Knutzy Week 2026: Day Three! Some French summer sun for the Cubs :) Characters belong to @lumosinlove, fest is from @oknutzy-week-2026!
Italy (C1) | Solstice (B1)
“Remember Italy?”
Finn finished chasing a drip of vibrant orange down the side of his popsicle and nodded. “Which part?”
“The park.” Leo hadn’t even looked up from his book.
Of course Finn remembered the park. Rambling green within the confines of towering castle walls that dated back to the 15th century; enough shade to escape the lunchtime heat, but enough warmth that Leo could bask in the soft grass between bites of cheese and salami. Logan’s radiant delight when they turned the corner and uncovered his eyes, his pleased smile when they crossed the drawbridge over a dry moat, the lounge of his body while he surveyed the land around them like his own personal kingdom. Finn had barely been able to keep the old fortress secret for those morning hours.
“Loved that place, yeah.”
Leo turned a page, uncrossed his legs, and crossed them again in the opposite direction. “We should go back.”
“Missing the sun?”
There—a teasing dart of blue eyes over the edge of his sunglasses. Finn stretched out with a laugh and let the French heat beat down on his knees, etching more freckles over his pasty skin. A beachside sprawl of towels and half-broken umbrellas marked their territory. A dozen yards out, a volleyball went scampering off toward the water to a chorus of groans.
“I’m missing the—”
“Maman!”
“—cheese.” Leo held the edge of his page down at the next gust of wind. “And the—”
“MAMAN!”
“—architecture. Reg wants to go with us next time.”
“As long as he gets his own place.”
Leo chucked a shell at him, which Finn caught, laughing. “You like him.”
“I do, I do.” Another bit of popsicle attempted escape. Finn savored it, the sharp tang of fresh orange juice straight out of the freezer against this summer boil, and felt his toes pop as he worked them into the sand. “But,” he added. “I refuse to keep my hands to myself for the sake of his delicate sensibilities.”
“Control yourself, O’Hara.”
“Around you in your teeny-tiny, itty-bitty vacation shorts?” It was Finn’s turn to peer at him over his glasses. “Not a chance, Butter. Not a chance.”
More shouting from below; a squabble, loud gestures, something about the imaginary offsides line that left Sydney stomping back to her position with a vicious scowl. Twenty feet to his right, Finn watched Iva raise her wineglass at her children in acknowledgement and return to her shell-sorting.
“He’s thinking of bringing Harper.”
“He should.” Finn slurped a bit of juice off his hand and caught the glance of Leo’s eyes. “Better than staying in a hotel alone.”
“Finn…”
“I joke, I kid.”
“First Luke, now Reg…” Leo clicked his tongue. “Somebody doesn’t like to share.”
He did not. But Finn wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of defining his very specific sharing parameters. He gave Leo a firm pat on his thigh, tilted into the light to collect sun-gold as a souvenir. Gold beside him, bronze ahead. Lots of bronze, actually—his own personal statue slapped the volleyball back over their net to immediate protests.
“What’s she saying?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Leo’s face scrunched slightly, listening. “Aubrey’s calling him a filthy cheater and sore loser. And—”
“MAMAN!”
“—uh, they wanted Iva to play ref, earlier. Which is obviously going super well.”
“Lo?”
“He just told Aubrey he was gonna kill her with a rock.”
“So he’s happy,” Finn finished, pushing his glasses up into his hair. He laid back with a sigh. “Perfect.”
Leo’s laugh made him smile. His hand was hot and sandy on Finn’s jaw in a quick scuff, thumb pushing at his dimple. “Hmm,” Leo sighed happily. “You’re scruffy.”
“Was thinking of shaving tonight, before dinner.”
“MENTEUSE! MENTEUSE! MENTEUSE!”
Leo’s fingertips trailed over his cheek. “Aw, but I like it.”
“I can keep it,” Finn offered, squinting up at him in the sun.
Leo examined him for a moment. “Tomorrow,” he decided. “Keep it for tonight.”
“You got plans, Knut?”
“Hush.”
Finn grinned at the blush on his cheeks. “Be-have.”
“I’m—” Leo smacked his glasses back down over his eyes. “Watch your show.”
“Who, Lo?”
“Yes.”
“My show,” Finn muttered, smiling. He wasn’t wrong. Well—Leo was rarely wrong. And he was also watching Logan, as evidenced by the extensive lifespan of page 117 and his fixed gaze that Finn could see through the side of his sunglasses.
He snuck a hand up under the leg of Leo’s swim shorts and gently pinched the underside of his thigh. Leo jumped with a yelping sort of sound, and whacked at him with his paperback. “Finn.”
“Back muscles.”
“I’m finishing this before you and spoiling it all.”
“Nah. You won’t.” Finn bit his lip at the softness of the back of Leo’s knee. Muscle and joints twitched under his touch. “Gonna give me subtitles?”
“I’m reading.”
As if. Even with his book fully spread open in front of his face, Finn saw him peeking. That was fine. Beach volleyball looked good on the Tremblays. The half-inflated ball and a torn net from their grandmother’s shed brought the whole thing together, a picture-perfect window into the last twenty-odd years of these visits. He was more than happy to watch Logan, season-strong, solstice-bronzed, lope around with three of his most favorite people in his most favorite place.
“D’you think Alex would let me use his espresso machine?”
Leo looked down at him, straw in his mouth. “Huh? Probably.”
“Like, could I borrow it?”
“Unlikely.”
“Really?” Finn frowned, and folded his hands behind his head. “Maybe we could grab it next time we visit.”
“Or we could just buy one,” Leo laughed.
“It doesn’t taste the same.”
Leo shook his head, setting his lemonade down in the sand. “You and Lo. Impossible. Ohhh, it’s not the same, ohhh, theirs is so much better, ohhhh, we can just borrow it real quick when we visit.”
“Older sibling seasoning is real,” Finn insisted.
“If my cousins ever stole half the shit you two have taken from your siblings, I would have fed them to a gator.”
Finn tsked. “They love us. And I miss good espresso. Italy spoiled me.”
Leo took another sip. His book was fully abandoned, resting beside him while he watched Aubrey and Noelle race the tide for the ball, shrieking as the water pulled back. Logan stood with his arms crossed by the side of the net and one hip tilted. Statue, indeed. “I think,” Leo said slowly. “That if you just told Alex he makes good coffee, he’d make you some when we visit.”
Finn waved his hand in the air. “He’d do that anyway.”
“Still.”
Logan looked back at them, one hand shading his eyes. He waved, then raised one thumb up in question. The two of them returned the gesture. The wet volleyball slammed into Logan’s back from behind with a plasticky shlorp he could hear across thirty feet of distance. Finn could see the red mark stretching across his shoulder blade when he turned and raced back into the Nice surf. He’d make sure to kiss it better later, scruff and all.
