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Quinn’s bedroom in Michigan has always been a safe place to go for Jack and Luke. Whether that be their family home or the recently acquired lake house their big brother bought. Jack’s name is on the lease, yes. Jack gave Quinn half the money, yes. Jack gave his extremely enthusiastic response to the photos Quinn sent, yes.
But this is Quinn’s accomplishment. He viewed multiple houses along the lake while Jack was up visiting Luke at college. He picked the one he liked the most. He signed the papers. But he put Jack’s name on the deed. It was nice of him Jack thinks regularly, that Quinn wanted to share something so serious with his little brother.
Despite them spending the summers together every year, Quinn finds solace in his bedroom. And so do his little brothers. They always give him a few hours alone, letting him filter through his thoughts and have his, Luke dubbed, ‘quiet time’.
But they find their way there regularly. Whether Jack or Luke need advice, ‘quiet time’ for themselves, or someone to talk at who they know won’t interrupt: Quinn’s bedroom is the place to go. It started when Jack was sixteen.
Their new house was amazing. Big and spacious with their own dry setup for shooting pucks in the basement. But Jack and Luke had to share a room. Quinn got eldest child privileges, and their grandparents needed a bedroom for when they were staying, so Jack had to give up his privacy and share with his baby brother.
He’s always loved Luke. He loves being a big brother and someone for him to rely on, but he needs his own space too. So when Quinn was out with his friends, Jack would commandeer Quinn’s room as his own. Sometimes it was so he could finish a history essay without Little Lukey (his fourteen year old, hormonal brother) nipping at his heels and telling him about his newest crush. Sometimes it was Luke having a pregame nap and snoring through Jack’s movie. And sometimes it was as simple as Jack wanting to think about his hockey skills without Luke asking to develop his own.
So Jack would sit in Quinn’s room and get some much needed space. Until Luke caught on to what he was doing.
Jack knows that Luke is a sneaky little shit, who will gladly pull his practiced to perfection tricks when he wants Jack to fuck off for a while as well.
After a couple of months, the arguments started. Jack and Luke were too similar and clashed often. Quinn must think that they even fought over who got to complain to him first. But after four or five fights, they seemed to take it in turns. Once the shouting stopped, Quinn would hear padded footsteps echo along the carpet towards his room, didn’t matter if he was in it or not.
If he was, there would be three soft chaps at his door and a quiet creaking of the hinges, then one of his brothers’ heads would pop through the small gap. No matter the amount of socialisation Quinn had left in his tank, he would beckon them in with a lazy hand.
Jack would flop on Quinn’s bed, starfishing his limbs wide and huffing out a deep breath, then he would ramble until Quinn stopped to interject his brotherly advice. Luke would take to Quinn’s armchair in the corner, the bookshelf resting beside it unorganised and haphazardly. He would stay quiet for a while, looking over the new books on the middle shelf reserved for them, sometimes thumbing at the pages of one to decide if he was finally going to pick up the habit like hie older brothers, and after maybe fifteen minutes Luke would start his explanation.
But at the lake house that’s all theirs, it’s yours too Luke, stop being an idiot, they each had a bedroom and much more patience for each other. Jack and Luke enjoy living together for a couple of months now that Luke’s got his own apartment in Jersey and they spend a healthy amount of time talking arguments out once they’ve had time to cool off.
So Quinn gets to provide sage older brother wisdom to Jack and Luke about things that aren’t to do each other. He doesn’t know whether to be wholly grateful for that or not. He can’t get away with using their weakness of their brotherly bond against them anymore, and that’s actually a bit scary. When did they decide to grow up?
Quinn’s reading before bed when he hears the hesitant three knocks that mean showtime. The door pops open before he can dog-ear the page he’s reading and set it aside, and Jack’s head sneaks around the door, “‘M not sleeping, you’re fine.” Quinn says to him, waving his hand into the air to bring Jack further in to the room.
Jack plops onto the bed without grace, laying himself down at Quinn’s side and kicking his legs up on top of his brother’s. Quinn pats a hand against his shoulder and cocks his head to the side, silently questioning, “I need you to talk me through something.” Jack says, his voice quiet, hesitant and a little bit scared.
“Hit me.” Quinn replies, setting the book on his nightstand and turning his hips slightly to face Jack. He lets a hand fall to Jack’s calf, just resting there.
“I don’t really know where to start, though.” Jack’s voice cracks and he turns his head away, not before Quinn can see his eyes get a bit shiny.
“Hey, hey.” Quinn says, patting Jack’s calf twice, “Just whatever comes to mind’s fine.”
Jack gives a little half smile to Quinn’s headboard and drops his head down to rest on Quinn’s shoulder. Quinn runs his free hand through the knotty hair at the back of Jack’s head, his fingers untangling the strands gently. Jack sniffs and rubs his forehead against Quinn’s shoulder, nuzzling like a cat, “I don’t think I’m straight.”
His voice is all crackly and quiet, a heartbreaking sound to Quinn who only wants to hear that voice loud and confident and happy. Quinn drops his head back against the headboard, taking one deep breath and looking to the ceiling for a second, processing the fact.
He just wants Jack to be happy - with himself, with his life, with whoever he ends up with, be that a man or a woman - and decides very quickly he’ll do whatever he can to get his brother’s voice back to normal. “Okay.” He says simply, pulling slightly at Jack’s hair to get him to lift his head, “Look at me, Jacky.”
Jack hesitates, shaking his head twice. Quinn pats his calf again and just waits for Jack to do as he says. When he does meet Quinn’s eye there’s a single tear running down his cheek, so Quinn takes his hand off of his leg momentarily to swipe it away before putting it right back where it was, “You wanna tell me anything else?”
He shakes his head again and another few tears shake out of his eyes at the movement. With his hoodie sleeves pulled down over his hands, Jack scrubs them away and sniffles again, looking up to the ceiling, “I don’t know what I am, though.”
“That’s fine, you don’t have to.” Quinn says, his voice taking on a protective edge, “You never have to define it, love is love, Jack.”
Jack lets out a half-hearted laugh, the noise catching in his throat, “That’s a cheesy line if I’ve ever heard one.” He snarks to the best of his ability, a watery smile dancing across his face.
“It’s the truth, bud.” Quinn replies sarcastically, punching at Jack’s thigh, “I don’t care who you dick down, as long as I get to tell them if they hurt you, I’ll hunt them down and do ten times worse.”
Jack’s shocked into a full laugh with that one. He punches back at Quinn, catching his shoulder with his fist before he grabs onto it, his grip strong. Quinn thinks he needs the physical tether himself, needs to feel his big brother beside him, “That’s disgusting.” He comments, his voice a bit lighter but still crackly in parts.
“Hey, I don’t want to think about your sex life more than you don’t want me to think about it.” Quinn interjects, “I just want you with someone who’ll treat you right… and has a shit ton of patience.”
Jack stares with a dropped jaw at Quinn’s judgement, kicking at his thighs with his heels. He goes still again in Quinn’s hold, looking up at his big brother with watery eyes and a frown pulling at his lips. Quinn thinks he looks young like this - if you put a picture of a five year old Jack asking for ice cream for breakfast beside his face now, there wouldn’t be much of a difference.
“You don’t mind?” He asks in a whisper, hopeful and scared. Quinn deflates and pulls at the back of Jack’s neck until heir foreheads rest together.
“I don’t give a damn whether the person you spend your life with his a man or a woman, as long as you’re happy.” He says, looking Jack dead in the eyes with the inch of distance between them, “As long as you treat them well and they treat you well, then I don’t care if it’s a Paul or a Patricia.”
“You’re sure, Q?” Jack asks again, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the honesty shining through Quinn’s, “Cause I don’t even really know. So we can just forget about this if you want ‘cause it might just be a stupid crush and nothing will even happen and-”
“Rowdy.” Quinn interrupts flatly, “Stop talking right now.”
Jack pulls back from Quinn, falling flat onto the bed with his eyes shut and his arms crossing over his chest. He rolls onto his side and closes in on himself, eyes still shut tightly. Quinn slides down the bed beside him, sees how wet his eyelashes are and how tight the lines are between his drawn eyebrows and vows again to fix this.
“Hey.” He says, tapping at the frown lines on Jack’s face to annoy him into opening his eyes, “You listen to me, okay?”
Jack nods weakly, clutching the air with one of his hands to silently ask Quinn to hold his. Quinn obliges, ‘cause he is nothing if not weak to his little brothers’ wants and runs his thumb across the inside of Jack’s wrist.
“I’m going to say this and you’re not going to open that mouth until I tell you to, yeah?” Jack nods again, used to these talks from Quinn, “You can marry a man or a woman. You can date a man or a woman. You can have safe and consensual sex with a man or a woman.” Jack smiles slightly, then, shaking his head at Quinn interjecting the ‘birds and the bees’ at every opportunity he can, “You can have a crush on a man or a woman. You can love the eyes, or the ass, or the arms or the hair of a man or a woman. And you will still be my little brother. You will still be mom’s favourite, even though she denies it. You will still be a Devil. You will still be Jack. And whether you ever act on anything with a man, everything you feel is valid and allowed and okay. Okay?”
Jack nods again, tears consistently dripping from his eyelashes onto Quinn’s bedsheets. He squeezes Quinn’s hand, Quinn squeezes back - three in a row just like the knocks on his door, “You can speak, now.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Quinn shakes his head this time, poking at Jack’s nose, “Seriously, thank you, Q. I needed to hear that, I think.”
“Well, you know I don’t bullshit you. I love you, yeah? No matter who you love.” Jack lets go of Quinn’s hand in favour of launching himself into his arms. Quinn lets out a little surprised squeak, and wraps his arms around Jack securely, his hand gripping the back of Jack’s neck when he shoves his face into the divot between Quinn’s jaw and shoulder.
“Love you too.” He whispers into Quinn’s skin, calm, measured breaths escaping him now. Quinn can still feel tears dripping onto his shirt, but chooses to ignore them in favour of holding Jack close for another few minutes.
Jack goes eerily quiet and his breathing slows into a deep, thoughtless rhythm. He’s sleeping, Quinn notes. He turns his nose into Jack’s hair and breathes him in for a while. He still remembers tying Jack’s first pair of his own skates, not Quinn’s hand-me-downs, and taking his hands when he stepped onto the ice, testing out the new blades beneath his feet.
He remembers the blinding smile on his face, shouting for Quinn to skate faster, so he could feel the cold Toronto air whipping against his face. He remembers looking to the edge of the rink in a silent question to his mom if he was allowed. He remembers her smiling and nodding, holding a three year old Luke against her side. He remembers Luke asking when he can go on the ice and mom telling him to wait, that Jack needed to have his turn trying out his new skates before he could go. He remembers Jack doing the exact same thing two years later with a five year old Luke and watching from the side of the rink with their mom. He remembers Luke’s toothy grin when Jack turned and skated at full speed with Luke holding onto his hips tightly.
And then Luke knocks on his door. His baby brother who is bigger than both him and Jack now. His baby brother who is twenty-two and a Devil and a man. He pokes his head into the room, his eyes locked on Jack. Jack, who has now fallen away from the death grip he had on Quinn twenty minutes ago and is resting his head on Quinn’s chest.
“He’s good?” Luke asks, nothing more to the question, just checking that Jack’s okay.
“He’ll get there.” Quinn replies, motioning for Luke to come into the room too. The youngest brother settles at the foot of Quinn’s bed, curling up with one earbud in and his phone in hand.
They don’t speak for a while after that. Luke scrolls through TikTok, Quinn picks his book back up and Jack sleeps. Jack rolls onto his other side around an hour into his slumber, Quinn dog-ears the beginning of the last chapter of his book and Luke takes his headphones out. He passes the phone to Quinn, who puts the device and the book on his nightstand and switches off the lamp, “You sleepin’ here?” He asks, feeling Luke’s nod more than he sees it.
They settle into the bed, Quinn beside Jack and Luke at their feet - definitely curled up awkwardly which will inevitably hurt tomorrow, but hey, he doesn’t seem to mind and Quinn’s not going to complain if Luke isn’t. Quinn lies awake even after he hears Luke’s snores begin, trying to think of one solid memory of each of his brothers from every year. A happy one, where he wasn’t worrying about them, where they knew that he would always be there for them to talk anything through or ask anything of. He nods off when he gets to Jack at twenty-one and Luke at nineteen.
The next morning, Jack tells Luke that he doesn’t think he’s straight while Luke is still half asleep. All Luke does is move from the foot of the bed to in-between his brothers and rest his head on Jack’s shoulder, “Fine by me.” He says with a clumsy pat to Jack’s head and a sleepy smile directed at Quinn.
Yeah, Quinn thinks, he’s definitely grateful that he gets to give his advice to problems that aren’t the ones Jack and Luke have with each other anymore.