Chapter Text
July 2025 - Montreal
The coffee never gets cold.
It was a new normal, one that Shane didn’t know he had to adjust to once he started seeing Luc. Shane’s coffee- Italian, smooth, taken with no sugar, no milk- was on the kitchen island, every morning that he found himself in Luc’s penthouse. Always available, always hot.
It’s not that it was a problem, really. It was practical, maybe even downright efficient in a way, to maximize Shane’s time. He didn’t have to bother with the process of making the coffee himself: grind, adjust, tamp, extract, so on and so forth. He didn’t have to clean up either. Marta, Luc’s private chef, knew how Shane took his coffee. He didn’t know how; she never asked which beans or if he liked sugar- and he never told her. She just knew. And she knew exactly when he needed it.
It was once a mundane task. A ritual. Simply a way to mark the beginning of the day.
Now someone else did it.
He could wake up in the morning. Shower, brush his teeth, drink his coffee, and leave for his morning run. All within thirty minutes. It was efficient. Just like Luc. Just like the way he ran his household.
Today was no different. Shane woke up, as he always did, with the slow rise of Montreal’s grey morning light filtering into the room and the sound of muted mechanical humming. Luc timed the blackout blinds to rise precisely at six am, making their full ascent within 90 seconds. Luc learned quickly that Shane was an early riser, much like himself. But they were different, still. While Shane would set a series of three alarms to nudge him closer and closer to consciousness, Luc was staunchly opposed to alarms. Shane always felt comfort in knowing the alarms were set. That he would always wake up with plenty of time for practice. That he had enough time to wake up slowly in bed, press kisses to sleep warm skin, stretch and yawn and touch. That he’d always wake up with enough time to make two cups of coffee– one with sugar and flavored syrup, and one without.
Alarms served their purpose, Luc said, but this was the one thing he wasn’t willing to negotiate. Luc and Shane both had hectic work lives and public personas that required them to always be ready. To always be “on.” To have the world want a piece of you and demand that you give it away. The hockey superstar and the tech mogul. That reality would always wait for them outside the walls of Luc’s penthouse and he both loved and hated that he and Shane weren’t alone in that experience, but his bedroom was the one place he didn't want that. Alarms, then, were demanding, and thus served no purpose in his bedroom. Luc was not one to offer many non-negotiables, and this felt harmless, so Shane obliged.
By 6:01, before Shane’s eyes fully open, he hears more than sees Luc get up to head straight to the en suite bathroom.
“Good morning, mon chéri! It’s going to be a good day. Get up, that 5k isn’t going to run itself!” Luc calls over his shoulder as he heads to turn on the water in the large walk-in shower. Shane contemplates for a minute whether he should join Luc, but he knows Luc has a flight at eight am to San Francisco and can afford no distractions. Tonight, he’s meeting with his company’s division based in Silicon Valley to discuss the newest AI start-up acquisition and how to integrate operations into his company, Demers Digital. He’ll be gone for a few days, busy attending two charity fundraisers– one to raise money to address the housing crisis in the Bay Area, and another to fund high quality tech support for underserved schools. He’s giving a speech at both events, in addition to donating large sums to both causes. Luc was obscenely wealthy. His wealth put Shane’s large contract with the Montreal Metros, his enviable brand deals, and various real estate investments to shame. But Shane appreciated Luc’s generosity. It’s how they met after all.
Luc is out of the bathroom by 6:14, and walks to one of the two large walk-in closets in the bedroom to find his suit, already pressed and ready to wear. Luc’s suitcase is already packed, with his passport and wallet tucked in his leather briefcase, both lined up neatly next to the bedroom door. Shane never has to worry about him, he muses suddenly. He never has to make a fuss about packing matching socks, or remembering his phone charger. He never has to sneak an extra folded hoodie into his suitcase in case he needs it for chilly Ottawa mornings.
Luc has it all under control. He always does.
Shane finally gets up to shower, stopping briefly to look at Luc as he adjusts his tie in the mirror.
“I’ll miss you,” Shane says, as he catches Luc’s eyes reflecting back at him in the mirror. Like all of his clothes, Luc’s suit is tailored within an inch of its life, showing off all of Luc’s defined muscles, his broad shoulders, and his tapered waist. Luc is so handsome that it takes Shane’s breath away sometimes. His dark hair, neatly combed over, and fresh shave makes him look too awake, too ready to take on the world at six in the morning. It’s almost unfair.
Luc walks over, tips Shane’s chin up, and gives him a slow, but firm kiss. It ends before Shane can even put a hand on his waist or grab his hair. Not that he’d want to. It looks too perfect to mess up.
“I will too. I will let you know when I land, mon chéri. Now get in the shower, you have 10 minutes until you have to leave for your run.” Luc turns back to the mirror to give himself a once-over. His spine is straight, jaw is set, and his face resolute. He gives himself a quick nod. As if to say, this is acceptable, this will do. This is how the world will see me. Luc is nothing if not confident.
Just as quickly, Luc turns around to grab his suitcase and briefcase, and leaves the room. His driver was scheduled for pickup at 6:20, and Luc is ready and out the door.
Shane hops in the shower, realizing that he’ll run behind if he delays even a minute more.
By the time he’s showered, brushed his teeth, and changed into his running clothes, the coffee is downstairs on the kitchen island. Hot, ready, and waiting.
The coffee used to get cold. Before, when he would find every reason to linger around the kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses tasting of burnt coffee and mint toothpaste, stealing bites of breakfast sandwiches that didn’t fit with his diet during hockey season. He couldn’t help himself then. He lacked discipline and focus. But that was another lifetime. That was before. Shane was different now. He had to be.