Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s fine!” Willy shouts, which Auston knows means it’s not fucking fine. At all.

“It’s not gonna be for long,” he says, voice calm as he watches Willy pout.

Fuck, he looks so good when he pouts, like his lips are made to —

“How do you know?” Will fires back, arms crossed.

Auston can’t help but stare — Willy’s changed so much since Sweden, and in a lot of ways, but his body is the most distracting of all. Supposedly it’s only an extra twelve pounds but Auston swears they’re lying. He knows Willy’s body. Intimately.

“You know how Keefe gets,” Willy continues. “He’s gonna keep you and Marns together, watch.”

Right. Willy’s still talking, and he’s upset and Auston should be doing something about it instead of just staring at the way his biceps are flexing with each irritated sentence. Fix.

“Willy.”

“What.”

Auston doesn’t bristle at the flat tone. He knows Willy just cares, maybe even too much. Being on the first line means a lot, to any hockey player. But he knows that’s not all.

“You don’t care about being on the first line.”

“What the — of course I do,” Will protests, his sharp blue eyes narrowing at Auston.

“Nah, it’s me,” Auston stated plainly. “You wanna play with me, even if it’s on the fourth fucking line.”

Will’s jaw clenches a bit, Auston can see the muscle twitch. Bingo.

“Baby,” Auston breathes, a smile taking over his features. “Look at me.”

Willy’s eyes are concentrated somewhere on Auston’s face but at the request, they lock onto Auston’s.

“Is my baby a little jealous?”

“I am not.”

“Not jealous or not my baby?” Auston teases, because he knows how to make that frown go away, knows how to make Willy feel like all of his attention is for Will and Will alone.

“Don’t be a dick,” Will grumbles, finally uncrossing his arms.

Auston invites Will back into his space, open arms, leaning back against the couch. “You wanna play with me so bad, then let’s play.”

Reluctantly, Will turns and crawls into Auston’s lap.

“There you go,” Auston whispers. He smiles up at Will, it’s just impossible not to. Golden hair framing his face, beard trimmed neatly, looking like a damn lion.

And Willy’s weight is solid on him — grounding and unmoving. He rests his hands on Will’s thighs, and lets his thumb swipe back and forth across the ridiculous muscle there.

“Tell me,” Auston continues, letting his hands travel up to Will’s hips, giving them a light squeeze. “What are you?”

Will’s looking down at him, face softened now and eyes growing darker with each passing second. By the time Auston’s hands have traveled up Will’s torso, lifting Will’s shirt — well, Auston’s shirt — up, fingers sliding through every groove of his abs, Will’s eyes are barely blue anymore.

Auston licks his lips, cock filling rapidly as he continues to touch. Roam. Claim every inch of Willy’s skin as his. He comes to a stop when he gets to Will’s ribs, thumbs just under his pecs. Even though Will’s shirt is still on, Auston can picture it perfectly. He knows the dusting of hair across Will’s chest — he can feel it tickling his fingers right now. He knows the way Will’s body responds, dark nipples hardening as goosebumps spread out across his chest.

“Well?” He prompts, because it feels like Willy’s forgotten the question altogether. “What are you?”

Will’s chest expands in Auston’s hands with his breath before he exhales his reply. “Yours.”

🏒

Auston almost forgets the near tantrum Willy had about being bumped to the second line. At practice, Mitch is already skating around with Willy, the both of them laughing about something. He thinks those two are more alike than they even know.

When he takes to the ice, Mitch greets him with a big, goofy smile and a terribly off-tune “reunited and it feels so good”!

It’s infectious, Mitch’s idiocy. Auston laughs but he isn’t going to join in, not this time.

After practice, Will goes back to his own apartment for a nap, and while Auston wants to change Will’s mind, he doesn’t say anything. No good will come from cornering him, Auston knows that much.

With a sigh, he heads home, where his apartment is a thousand times emptier with Will’s preposterous giggling. He’s not a sap or anything but if Willy’s laugh was the ringtone on his phone, well, he wouldn’t be mad about it.

As if reading his mind, his phone goes off (with a standard, boring ping and not the joy-filled sound of his boyfriend’s laugh).

Mitch: is Willy mad at me

Well, fuck.

Auston: No?

Mitch: ya? Ok, he just seemed mad leaving practice I didn’t know if I said something

Auston: I think he’s just pissed he’s bumped to second.

Mitch: oh

Mitch: fuck

Mitch: sorry

Auston rolls his eyes, because there’s obviously nothing Mitch can do about it, and nothing Mitch had done to bring this on.

Auston: don’t be, he’ll be okay

Mitch is the only person on the team who knows about him and Will, not that he doesn’t trust the team, but this isn’t the sort of thing you can afford to be careless about. Besides, they deserve just a slice of privacy, don’t they? The media already digs up every other fucking thing about them.

Mitch: yeah, I know. Just. Sorry.

Auston resists the urge to text back “I’m rolling my fucking eyes at you” because really, it’s just how Mitch is. Nauseatingly Canadian, perpetuating the stereotype like it’s his job because Auston doesn’t think he’s got a mean bone in his body. He’s seen Mitch apologize to a lamppost.

Auston: Mitch it’s fiiiiiiine

Mitch: ok but can I help tho?

Yeah, Auston should’ve expected that. The guy radiates sunshine, does nothing but make people laugh or offer to help and —

Help…

Auston thinks for a moment. He’s fucking nuts, right? He’s gotta be, for even thinking about it in the first place. Yes. Nuts. Insane. It’ll never work. Right?

Auston: actually yeah, maybe?

🏒

Auston falls into an easy rhythm with Mitch, they’ve already played 15 games together this season after all. Shift after shift, Willy’s off the bench just as he hops over the boards, and it’s stupid to get all sentimental over like, 20 minutes a night, but he kind of hates how it feels. Maybe he had no leg to stand on, teasing Willy about his FOMO. He can’t help but feel like he should be out there, too. At Willy’s side, where he belongs.

Instead, he watches Will on the ice, on JT’s wing and admires the ease of Will’s skating. The one thing about playing with Will is that Auston doesn’t get to watch him, not like this.

Thankfully, it just looks like Auston’s eyes are following the puck, since it has a habit of staying on Will’s stick. Coast to coast, time and time again. So fucking beautiful.

Auston scores that night, on a pass from Mitch. When he skates down the line, when he bumps his fist against Willy’s, there’s just enough of a smile there that Auston thinks that everything is fine, like Willy keeps insisting it is.

He hasn’t forgotten the plan though.

It takes a while for Auston’s idea to fall into place. Mostly because he’d been too nervous to actually ask Willy about it, but it also seemed like Will was taking every opportunity to not listen.

And the thing is, well, Willy doesn’t listen all that well to begin with, that goddamn brat. It’s unfortunately part of his charm. But lately, it’s been even… hungrier.

“Come on, come on,” Will pants against Auston’s lips as he grinds down in Auston’s lap.

He was going to tell Will tonight. Really. He swears. It’s just —

“Fuck me,” Will urges, calloused fingers running up Auston’s neck to his hair while the other hand digs painfully into to his shoulder.

Auston’s groans. “Fuck, st — babe — I said we needed to talk.” But, his hands don’t stop dragging down Will’s back and kneading Will’s ass, just like how Will doesn’t stop the movement of his hips.

“Talk after,” Willy retaliates, tugging at Auston’s hair, leaning down for a kiss that’s just as sharp as it is sweet.

The moment Will takes Auston’s bottom lip between his teeth, Auston forgets every word he knows let alone the conversation he was supposed to have.

He caves — he always caves for Willy and that wicked tongue, that beautiful smile and all those sweet noises.

“I said fuck me,” Willy whines. Demands.

So he does. He fucks Will the way he knows Will wants, with a pace that’s almost brutal except he still wants Will to be able to skate tomorrow. He barely holds himself back from thrusting up, and Will rides him like there’s no tomorrow and all that’s left is them. The sound of their bodies meeting, skin to skin, the unabashed moaning from Will, his own breaths coming out in harsh pants.

When he comes it feels like the second best feeling in the world — the first is seeing Will fall apart above him.

They don’t get to talk about it that night.

🏒

It turns out that what it takes is for The Conversation to happen is one giant misunderstanding and Mitch to show up one night.

“Aus?” Will’s looking at him in confusion as he walks into Will’s apartment.

“Mitch?” He asks in return, because that’s who’s sitting on Will’s couch, nonchalantly drinking a Gatorade.

“Me?” Mitch responds. “Wait why is everyone so surprised, is the thing not happening today?”

Will’s eyes narrow and Auston is so screwed. “I thought you were out with Mo. What thing is supposed to be happening?”

“He cancelled and… Uh, yeah, about that…” Auston’s still standing in the doorway, too baffled to move.

“You haven’t told him?!” Mitch asks incredulously and, yeah, alright, Auston doesn’t blame him.

“TOLD ME WHAT?” Will hollers, louder than Mitch, which is a feat all on its own. He’s also now up on his feet, and Mitch very much stays put on the couch as if staying out of Will’s path in case he decides to kill Auston.

Mitch looks helplessly between the two and Auston’s brain has finally processed the last five minutes, so he finishes hanging his coat up and taking his shoes off.

“Okay, so, I’ve been trying to talk to you about it,” Auston starts, because he has. It’s just simply not his fault Will’s so damn distracting. “I told Mitch you were feeling a little jealous of being bumped to —”

“You told him what?!” Will interrupts, a pink rising in his cheeks — from embarrassment or anger, Auston isn’t sure. Except Will doesn’t really do embarrassed so that doesn’t particularly bode well for him.

“I wanted to help!” Auston defends himself. He can see Mitch staring at him, gesturing with his head with all the subtlety of a train wreck. “And Mitch. Mitch wanted to help too.”

“I can see that,” Will says flatly. “Very helpful, the two of you.”

The sarcasm could slice through a man, and it makes Auston wince internally. Still, he walks forward because he knows he can salvage this. “Willy, baby — just listen to me for a sec, alright? I just — I figured that maybe, you wouldn't feel that way if you were part of it too.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Will asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Keefe would never play us together.”

“I wasn’t talking about on the ice,” Auston explains as he finally comes to stand in front of Will. “I want to show you that whatever you think is gonna happen isn’t true. Where am I gonna go, huh? Who cares if we play on different lines, we’re always together off the ice, aren’t we? And Mitch is our friend. Not mine. Ours.”

Auston watches Will’s eyes, can practically see the gears turning behind them, too. He takes Will’s hands. “Mitch can be yours too, if you let him be. Nothing to be jealous of.”

“This is possibly one of the dumbest things you’ve ever said,” Will tells him. “And you talk a lot.”

Mitch tries, and fails, to stifle a snorting laugh and they both look at him as if remembering they had an audience.

“Sorry — I can just —” Mitch clamps his mouth shut and points at the door.

“Shut up,” Will says, though there’s no heat behind it. “I can’t believe you’ve been here for half an hour and you didn’t say something.”

“I thought you knew!” Mitch exclaims. “I thought you were, like, using code when you texted me.”

“In what world is pizza and ‘chel code for a threesome?” Will asks, face partly bewildered, partly amused.

“Hey, that sounds exactly like Netflix and chill to me.”

“He’s right, you know,” Auston pipes up.

“Oh, you two gangin’ up on me now?” Will asks, and Auston is relieved to see his usual smile creeping back, his tone light and playful.

“Not yet,” Auston answers, smirking, moving in closer until he can feel the heat radiating off Will’s body. “But we can be.”

Chapter Text

“Fuck, shit — nnng — yeah, yeah, just like that —”

Auston loves how vocal Will is. It makes him feel like he’s doing the world’s best job at getting his partner off but somehow it’s even hotter right now, with Will’s cock down Mitch’s throat like it belongs there.

With Will’s back to his chest, he can feel everything. He can feel all of Will’s back muscles tense when he arches, head thrown back on Auston’s shoulder in ecstasy.

And Mitch — Mitch looks so fucking good like this, flushed and teary-eyed, begging silently for more when Auston’s eyes travel all the way down Will’s body.

“Feel good, baby?” He asks from behind, kissing Willy’s neck, licking the sweat-salted skin

“Nnngh,” Will whines, his chest heaving as his hand digs into Auston’s neck from where he’s reached back.

“Yeah, bet it does,” he coos. “Fuck, you look so good.” And he does, he really, really does. Auston slides his hands over every part of Will he can reach, running down his firm chest and tweaking a nipple, which draws another needy moan.

“Fucking feels so good,” Willy exhales. “Shit.”

“What’s the matter, baby? You gonna come for Mitchy? ‘Cause he’s dyin’ for it.” Auston knows he’s riling them both up, and it makes him feel fucking powerful. He’s the only thing that keeps Will together when he comes, all that toned muscle quivering in Auston’s hold.

Mitch sputters and yet he doesn’t move, his entire face red and pink with the effort of keeping Will’s dick in his mouth, of swallowing every last drop.

“Good boy,” Auston lets slip. They hadn’t really talked about this part — the pet names and the flirting. All they’d really done was set hard limits, so as great as it is that Auston knows Mitch doesn’t want to get peed on, he has no idea if Mitch likes being called a good boy.

Even if that’s what he fucking is.

Mitch’s lashes flutter, but he doesn’t pull off to tell Auston to shut up, so he feels like it must be okay.

“Fuck,” Will breathes out, like he’s run a marathon. He’s melted into a puddle against Auston’s chest, boneless, and only then does Mitch pull off with an exaggerated gasp, blinking rapidly as he swallows his next breath greedily.

“Y’gotta tr’it,” Willy slurs. As if Mitch’s mouth was nothing more than a toy he was taking for a spin.

Mitch cocks an eyebrow at him, in a way that would be defiant or challenging, if he didn’t look absolutely ruined.

“Maybe I will,” he says, holding Mitch’s stare.

🏒

Will’s right, he did have to try it — Mitch sucks dick with just as much enthusiasm that he does with… well, literally everything,

It’s sloppy and noisy and it’s perfect. He loves the way Mitch’s spit is fucking everywhere, dribbling down his balls, smeared against his thighs, even. He loves fucking into Mitch’s mouth while the other man can barely hold himself up over Will.

Will’s lazily rimming Mitch, seemingly without a care in the world, while it drives Mitch absolutely insane. The non stop groaning around Auston’s dick is doing wonders.

He’s holding the back of Mitch’s head, sliding his cock down Mitch’s throat while Will’s enormous hands have a firm hold on Mitch’s ass.

“Aus,” Willy says nonchalantly, like they’re not suffocating Mitch to death with their cocks. “I wanna fuck this ass.”

Auston can’t help but laugh, his head pleasantly floating in euphoria, but he’d do anything to make Willy happy. “Yeah? Then fuck that ass.”

Mitch doesn’t even get a say in the matter – Auston wrenches Mitch off his own dick and guides his head downward, where Will’s already half-hard again.

Without even being told to, Mitch greedily takes it in his mouth, moaning and bobbing his head like Will’s dick is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Auston fishes the lube out of their bedside table and waits patiently for his boyfriend’s tongue to get out of his goddamn way.

Will’s lips and chin are glossy with spit, and Auston knows for sure that Mitch is going to have the most uncomfortable beard-burn of his life. With lubed up fingers, he runs over Mitch’s hole, already on its way to opening up for them.

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get Mitch situated, straddling Will’s hips, because his baby is a pillow princess, after all. Auston’s kneeling between Will’s legs too, like a support for Mitch in case he falls over which he looks two seconds away from. He gets to look over Mitch’s shoulder at Willy’s face, blissed out and pink while Mitch sinks down slowly.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Mitch curses, his hands on Will’s abs to hold himself up.

“Almost there,” Auston murmurs, unable to stop himself from helping Mitch’s hips down. He’s transfixed on the sight — on the sight of Will’s cock disappearing inch by inch.

The muscles in Will’s thighs jump with excitement and the inability to sit still. “Holy shit.”

Auston smirks to himself — he likes watching Willy enjoy himself, that halo of blonde hair getting tousled by the pillow as he squirms. He likes the way Mitch leans on him for strength, likes how he can move Mitch up and down Will’s cock like he’s using a fleshlight.

“Wait, wait,” Willy pants, tapping Mitch’s thigh with zero coordination. “Want — Wanna fuck Auston too.”

Auston looks at their current positions. “You want me to — how?”

“Iunno, you always think of something,” Will supplies easily. “I’m flexible, remember?”

Auston wants to smother Will with a pillow just to stop the stupid waggling of his eyebrows as he looks them over.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Auston mutters, shuffling in closer and nudging Mitch forward.

Will is flexible. He hauls Mitch down to kiss him, giving Auston space to work, to open Will up while Mitch sits pretty on Willy’s cock. It’s hard not to get distracted, his hands itching to touch and explore where the two are joined.

He hauls Willy up into his lap a bit, which makes the both of them moan obscenely. How he managed to get signed to a team of the NHL’s sluttiest linemates he doesn’t know, but fuck is he grateful.

He gives Mitch a gentle spank, delighting in the choked noise he makes against Willy’s lips and the groan that comes after.

“Do that again,” Willy demands.

He does. Several times. He tests Mitch’s limits, bringing his hand down harder each time until that lovely ass turns from peach to pink and pink to nearly red.

He thinks Willy just likes the way Mitch contracts around his dick with each hit, and watching Mitch’s face.

“You should see his face,” Will says gleefully. “Looks fucked out stupid and we haven’t even started.”

Speaking of which — Auston’s been dying to get his dick wet for far too long. When he finally does start sinking into Will, with Mitch pressing back into him, it feels like — a lot. There isn’t any other way to describe it other than that. He’s watching Willy’s face, and he’s got a pretty good idea of what Mitch’s looks like, he’s guiding Mitch’s hips, he’s pushing forward to bury himself in Will’s tight, eager hole. A lot.

Will moans like the slut he is, and suddenly hands come down over his, and Mitch is being hauled up and down — punished, really — when Auston gets with the program and works with Will. He’s not even focused on his own thrusts right now because Mitch’s ass is bouncing on Willy’s dick, all toned and red, wearing the evidence of Auston’s hands, and he can’t focus on anything else.

“Oh, fuck,” Will groans. “Holy shit, fuck —”

Auston loves watching Will get closer and closer, the way his whole body is involved, muscles rippling from head to toe.

“Hell no,” Mitch huffs defiantly, hips out of Auston’s grasp now and slamming himself down, grinding on Will’s cock with the determination of someone in the Stanley Cup finals. Like his entire life depends on Willy’s orgasm.

Mitch would survive, evidently, because Willy arches right off the mattress.

He lets out an obscene sound as he comes, his hands leaving pale imprints on Mitch’s hips beside Auston’s hands. “Holy fuck, y’gotta — you should try.”

Willy gives them a dopey grin as he melts back into the bed.

Auston’s brain is still stuck on gotta try, like Will’s offering him an experience, a toy instead of his friggin liney, and for some reason it makes him horny as fuck.

Because yeah. Yeah, he does wanna fucking try.

“Right, Mitch?” Willy asks, all innocent, his fingers brushing through Mitch’s hair.

“Yes, holy fuck yes,” Mitch agrees. Enthusiastically. “Fuck me!”

“And I thought Willy had no discipline,” Auston chuckles at the open display of desperation.

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong, baby?”

Will pouts at Auston but then he gets that scheming look in his eyes and Auston’s cock gives an excited twitch. He knows that look. He loves that look.

When Mitch groans, Auston wants to ask what’s wrong but he’s distracted by Willy pulling himself off, leaving Auston’s cock lonely.

“What the f–”

Will cuts him off with a hand around his cock and that shuts him right up. Above him, Mitch is whining at the loss, grinding his hips down which does nothing but spread the mess across all of them.

Will’s cock had left a trail of lube and come in its wake, and now Will is so kindly guiding him to Mitch’s hole. The glint in Will’s eyes is infectious — it makes him feel mischievous, devious, and it makes him think terrible, awful thoughts.

Thoughts like fucking Mitch until he cries.

It’s like Will’s cock left a perfect path for him. He slips in, rocking his hips, only stuttering when Mitch clenches around him out of instinct.

Auston runs his hand up Mitch’s side, murmuring against his shoulder as he stills so they can catch their breath. Will’s already come, they could probably go on for a while, right? “Easy, Mitchy.”

He’s called Mitch Mitchy a thousand times by now, but it’s different here. When he’s breathing it into Mitchy’s shoulder, salty with sweat, when Will’s hands are gliding over both of them, when Mitch is whimpering in response to every little thing they do. Like he’s been dying for their touch.

“No,” Mitch whines. “No, please, I can handle it, come on.”

“Yeah, come on, look at him,” Willy encourages, hands kneading Mitch’s asscheeks. Even those small movements send a ripple of pleasure up his cock.

“So fuckin’ needy,” Auston grumbles, though it’s affectionate in every way. The two neediest and greediest for his cock and he’s got them both in bed.

He’s a lucky bastard.

“Fine. You want it so bad? Then take it.” He snaps his hips forward, buries himself in a way that makes Mitch faceplant into Willy’s chest (not that Auston thinks either of them mind).

He sets an unforgiving pace, he’s been so patient making sure they both have a good time. But with Mitch quivering like a leaf in the wind and Will all fucked out and looking high as balls, it’s his turn.

With his hand between Mitch’s shoulder blades, he forces Mitch down while his other hand hauls Mitch’s hips up.

“Hhhhnnnfffffu-uuck,” Mitch wails into Will’s pecs, drooling a little as he does.

He loves fucking doggy style, he likes the way he has all the free space to move and he likes he way he can pin his partner down and truly make them “ass up” for him. It’s hot as hell.

It’s even hotter now, with Will grabbing Mitch’s face and tilting it up to kiss him like it’s his dying wish. Willy’s tongue is a fucking dream — Auston has first hand experience so he can vouch for it — and it opens Mitch’s mouth up easily, licking in and teasing and teasing Mitch’s lips.

Mitch isn’t doing anything to help or fight it, like he just exists for Auston and Will to pry him open at both ends, making every whining and moaning sound known to mankind.

It’s sloppy but beautiful, Auston can’t explain how. He just knows that the harder he fucks Mitch, the less coordination he has and the harder he has to pant for air. Willy’s having the time of his life, licking the drool that’s leaked out the corner of Mitch’s mouth.

It’s absolutely obscene.

“Oh you’re so hungry for Auston’s dick,” Willy states, delighted. He shoves two fingers in Mitch’s mouth, pinning Mitch’s tongue down.

“Sure fucking is,” Auston agrees. “Ass is so fucking tight, Mitchy. Even after Willy stretched you out, huh?”

“Little whore,” Will teases, before biting into Mitch’s neck.

“Hhhhrr- nnnaaa-ahnnnng,” Mitch babbles as he falls apart between them, eyes red and teary, knuckles turning white from his grip on the sheets, bunched up on either side of Will’s head.

Auston is pretty sure if Mitch wasn’t already being held up by Willy, he’d have just fallen over.

“You okay?” Will asks softly. “Because you’re not done yet, älskling…”

And well, fuck if Auston doesn’t get a little hot and bothered anytime Willy busts out Swedish terms of endearment and Willy knows it.

He looks right over Mitch’s shoulder at Auston. “Sluta inte, knulla detta fitta.”

So hot. He loves how confident Willy is, how he rolls his tongue and grins, like he knows a secret nobody else does.

It doesn’t matter what he said, it works. Auston groans, low and long as comes inside Mitch, grinding with each wave of pleasure that crashes over him. He barely manages to flop beside them and not on top of them, closing his eyes to already relive the entire thing like a highlight replay.

Will’s hand caresses the side of his face, like he’s petting a cat. Auston grunts in response and cracks one eye open.

“Jag älskar dig, hjärtat.”

A smile takes over his face — Auston’s heard that one enough times to actually know what it means.

“Love you too,” he says quietly. He looks over at Mitch, who hasn’t moved from where he’s laid on top of Will. “Is he dead?”

“Fuck youuu,” Mitch groans. “Ugh. So hot.”

Auston hums in agreement. Looking at the amused smile on Will’s face, he has to ask. “What did you say just now — when you were trying to get me to come.”

“Excuse you, I didn’t try, I did.”

Auston rolls his eyes.

“I, uh,” Will stammers, eyes flicking down at Mitch apologetically. “I told you don’t stop, fuck this pussy.”

“Fuck you too,” Mitch says, exhaustedly. Contrary to his words, he snuggles into Will’s neck.

Auston snorts.

“Hey, Aus?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Remember when I said this was the dumbest thing you’ve ever said?”

“Yes,” Auston huffs.

“Y’also said he talks a lot,” Mitch adds, slurring with his lips pressed against Willy’s skin.

Will laughs, bouncing Mitch a little on his chest. “It’s maybe not so dumb,” he admits. “Iunno, hard to say, maybe we gotta keep trying. To be sure.”

Auston grins. “Yeah. Can’t hurt to be sure, right?”