Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jeremy closes the door behind him before Jabberwocky can escape. 

He mumbles a “Good afternoon,” as he heads for a cup of coffee. Jean is on the kitchen island, preparing some lunch. 

“I don’t like when you come home smelling of other men,” Jean says in way of greeting, Jeremy has to make a conscious effort not to fall over, “It’s unsettling,”

Jeremy blinks a couple of times, opens his mouth, closes it, Jean looks as calm as ever, it’s not him telling him not to sleep around, it couldn’t be jealousy, it’s an honest statement from him. European as always.

“Would you rather I shower at the court afterwards?” he asks, meaning for it to be teasing, but it comes out with an edge. He cringes.

“Yes, that would be preferable,” Jean says, returning to his task of cutting a carrot. He seems to be doing it with more intention than it’s necessary, but Jeremy tries to ignore that. 

He huffs, smells his shirt, and weighs his options; it’s not like Jean would want him in his kitchen, so he heads for the shower, deciding to take Mark's (or was it Clark?) odor off him, for Jean’s sake. Of course.

***

Later, while they, along with Cat and Laila, watch a movie in French with subtitles to let Jean’s brain rest for a moment, Jeremy finds he’s still thinking about Jean’s comment, he leans into his space, Jab at his lap. Careful not to touch him lest he scare Jean again. 

“Why does it bother you?” he whispers to Jean. 

Jean takes a moment to react, as if too immersed in his language. Jeremy wishes he was fluent enough to have asked in French, but he doesn’t think he can string the sentences needed for this conversation. 

“What do you mean?” Jean asks, his accent less guarded than usual. Jeremy is thrown off.

“I– Earlier, about other men’s smell,” Jeremy is conscious that he’s closer than needed to Jean, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t like how he smelled, which leads him to think about Jean smelling of other men, or women, and that makes him feel something he has no right to feel. 

Before Jean can reply, Cat throws a pillow at them. 

“I’m trying to watch the movie!” Cat complains, too invested in the overarching plot, as usual.

Jeremy can’t pay attention at all now, though, knowing their talk was pending. 

He just stares as the colors of the movie reflect on Jean’s face.

***

After a long phone call he still feels on edge about, Jeremy is able to convince his mother to let him sleep over at the apartment; They don’t even have beds yet, Jeremy, she had said, and he had to tell her that they finally did, actually.

Jab was wagging excited because of Jeremy’s remaining presence, but still headed for Jean’s bed instead of Jeremy’s, Jean groans, but still sits down next to the curled upcreature. 

Jeremy knows his nerves are all over, and maybe he’s trying to pick a fight, and maybe old habits die hard, so he asks Jean as he takes off his shirt:

“So, you don’t want me sleeping around?” 

Jean looks at him for a long moment, before frowning and grabbing his sleeping shirt for bed, a Trojans black shirt, “I don’t care if you do, release is a human necessity,”

“You never seem to need it,” Jeremy says, his hands immediately going to his mouth, but the words are out. 

Jean tenses up. Jeremy knows he has messed up. He has wondered if Jean ever… but it was completely inappropriate to even think that after everything Jean had gone through. 

“Crap– sorry, that was—”

“I’m not made of glass, Jeremy,” Jean says, an edge to his voice, Jeremy pretends this doesn’t make his stomach flutter wildly, curse that French accent, “You need to stop treating me like I am,”

Jeremy wants to apologize again, but he knows it’s best if he shuts up.

“I never…” Jean looks away, breathes deeper, comes back fiercely, “in the Nest, it wasn’t forbidden, as long as it was with teammates, but I was already… marked as easy, so I didn’t wish to prove them right. Until… he took the choice from me, again,” 

Jeremy is very quiet, he sits on the bed next to Jean, Jab scoffs at the extra weight and takes Jeremy’s bed, “I am very easy,” he says, unsure if it’s the right thing to say, but it must be, because it’s the truth, “My body count must be in the dozens now,” he laughs, dryly, “I mean, it’s okay, really, but I wish… sometimes I wish it meant more to me than it does,” he bites his cheek, “I’m sorry they took that decision from you, you never deserved that,”

Jean is fidgeting with the band aids on his fingers. Jeremy makes a point of looking away. Jean’s fingers make him have thoughts that are entirely too inappropriate for this.

“You make me feel like I’m difficult,” Jean says, and Jeremy is about to protest, but Jean continues, “You pull back where others would take advantage, but I think it’d be easy with you, one touch and I’d become pieces— how do you say— crumble,” the word sounds odd, pronounced in a way that suggests it’s a word Jean has only seen written, never heard or said out loud. It makes it all the more difficult for Jeremy to process what he’s said, but when he does, he sees a bit of panic and something new on Jean’s face.

“Jean,” Jeremy says at the same time Jean says “Kiss me,”

Jeremy is unsure the sound he’s made can constitute as human, but Jean continues speaking, nervous.

“I’ve never… I trust you and you’d be my first, and it’s not because you’re ‘easy’, I don’t care about that, it’s because it’s you, Jeremy,”

Jeremy wants to ask if it’s really okay, but he’s nearly sure no words can form in his throat, so he just puts a hand on Jean’s cheek, calloused fingers soothing his skin, and he gets close, giving Jean the distance to change his mind, to back away, but Jean closes the distance himself, their noses bumping, Jean goes red, Jeremy just giggles and tilts his head and kisses him. 

He wouldn’t say it’s a good kiss, Jean is frozen and his eyes are wide open and Jeremy has to prompt him to move so they’re actually kissing, and Jean’s movements are awkward and stilted, but Jeremy feels something brewing deep inside him, something he can’t name in that moment or else he’ll combust. 

They pull apart and stare into each other’s eyes. Jean is breathing heavily, then two fingers are on Jeremy’s lips, just a little above them, a ghost of the kisses they shared. 

“You and I against the world,” Jean says, and before Jeremy can respond, Jean is kissing him again, taking the initiative this time, eager and hungry and Jeremy licks his bottom lip and Jean whines, and Jeremy stops thinking about anything, his hands staying on Jean’s face and back, never his hair, never his neck.

Jeremy’s unsure how long has passed, they only tear apart from each other to breathe, and Jeremy smiles at Jean each time. Jean looks like he’s still deciding how he feels, but Jeremy thinks he must be enjoying it because he cuts off any remark Jeremy might have by trapping his mouth once again, not that he’s complaining. 

***

They end up on Jean’s bed, side by side, kissing like they’re starving and until Jeremy’s jaw is sore.

“Did you like it?” Jeremy says, a wide smile on his face and fingers brushing Jean’s cheekbones, his eyes lingering on his tattoo, he wonders how Jean would feel about covering it up, knowing the Perfect Court no longer exists and nobody keeps theirs except for him and Riko six feet under.

“Yes,” Jean replies, blushing, and it’s so dang endearing Jeremy kisses him again, Jean has a near-smile on his face, the corners of his mouth teasing it, but he turns serious suddenly, “I haven’t been fully honest with you,”

“Oh?” Jeremy panics for a second before controlling his face into something neutral, he doesn’t take his hand off Jean’s face, unsure if he should, Jean feels pliant under it, comforted, so he decides not to. 

“I do have… one good experience, but I’m unsure if it counts,” he averts his eyes, blushing, Jeremy wants to kiss his worry away, but he knows Jean is struggling to share, wants to share, “Uh, with Renee Walker,” 

Jealousy seeps into Jeremy and he knows he’s ridiculous; he’s slept with so many men, but Renee is special to Jean and none of the men particularly cross Jeremy’s mind most days. “Through text messages,” Jean finishes, hiding his face with his arm, Jeremy can’t help but smile.

“Was it good?” Jeremy asks, sincere, rubbing a soft hand through Jean’s muscled arm, glad he could have even a smidge of a good experience, Jean deserves that. Jean deserves the world. He nods, taking his arm off his face, a deep red blush.

“We never… I was too injured, but I’d have liked to,”

“Do you love her?” Jeremy asks before he can stop himself, bites his tongue. Would it change anything if he did? Would Jeremy let his own feelings go?

“Does it matter?” Jean says, shrugging, “Such feelings weren’t allowed in the Nest, and she let me go to start new,” he shrugs again, pulling on a thread in his sheet, “Thinking of it is useless,”

“Love is never useless,” Jeremy says, almost going to grab Jean’s hands with his, but that’s too close to an admission, he meets himself halfway and intertwines their fingers. Jean just looks at him, saying nothing. Jeremy wants to keep digging, to know if Jean has ever been in love with Renee, or someone from the Nest (Kevin?), or even a girl or boy from Marseille. But that can wait. He brings Jean’s calloused knuckles to his lips and kisses them, “We’re your new start,” Jeremy echoes Jean’s words, smiling, “I like that,”

Jean kisses his jaw, and soon they’re lost on each others’ lips once again.

***

They come out of the room as the sun is setting, searching for water and with swollen lips. There is no hiding what they had been doing, but it’s not like Jeremy is looking to keep it a secret from Cat and Laila. Except if Jean wants to. 

Based on the look Laila throws him, there’s no escape.

He serves glasses of water for both of them. Jean finishes his in two gulps. Jeremy doesn’t turn to see how he swallows. He goes sit in one of the chairs they found by a driveway. 

Cat and Jean start talking; Cat in rapid fire Spanish, Jean responding in French. Jeremy is sure neither of them fully grasps what the other is saying, but it’s always entertaining to watch. Jeremy only catches a few words from both of them; Cat from having grown up in Southern California his whole life, Jean from his French lessons. He can tell she’s asking him if they were kissing, and Jean isn’t denying it. It makes him flush, he hides behind his glass of water, Laila staring. He shrugs and is saved by the bell (well, ‘moo’s) of Cody texting him. He leaves the living room to text back.

Cody 

6:15 pm

Does Jean like grapefruit?

Jeremy

6:16 pm

Y dont u ask him

Cody

6:19 pm

He doesn’t check his phone

Jeremy

6:22 pm

Lemme ask

He comes back to his friends, Laila is brushing Jean’s hair. His ears are red, so Jeremy can only assume he told them what happened.

“Jean, do you like grapefruit? Cody’s asking,” Jean turns to look at Cat for an answer. Jeremy bites the inside of his cheek to stop a smile. 

“He does,” Cat says, smiling at Jean.

“Sour one?” he asks, and Jeremy needs to hear him say that word again. Cat nods, going back to channel surfing. 

Jeremy is so happy about his decision to room Jean with them; he had bonded with Cat in a similar way as Jeremy had bonded with Laila. Perhaps queer solidarity. They’re all a good fit. Jean is truly a Trojan. 

He shoots Cody a message and sits on the floor next to Jean, their knees touching and Jab jumping from Jean’s lap to Jeremy’s. 

“I thought he wasn’t friendly,” Jeremy says, scratching behind his ear, Jab protests. 

“He can sense camaraderie,” God, Jean’s accent makes Jeremy feel weak, and he doesn’t know how appropriate that is, in a sociopolitical way. He now knows what it’s like to kiss him – French kiss him! Well, he guesses every kiss with Jean is a French kiss. 

“Jeremy,” his thoughts get interrupted by Laila’s voice, he jumps, making Jab go back to Jean.

“Huh? Sorry, what?” he says, clearing his throat. 

“We were talking about ordering Chinese?”

“Ah, sounds good,” he says, fidgeting with his cowrie shell necklace, pointedly not looking back at Jab and Jean, scared of giving his every thought away– he isn’t even sure what he’s thinking.

He’s not thinking. Mostly.

Chapter Text

“Jeremy…” he says before biting down on his fist, with that delectable accent. It only makes him work his fingers faster.

“You take me so good,” he kisses Jean’s shoulder, licking to taste his sweat. Jean shudders under him, grabbing his arm.

His gaze is intense, “Fuck me,” he whispers out. His grip is lighter and his gray gaze is intense and Jeremy whines pathetically and he can’t believe this is his life. He fumbles with a condom wrapper.

“Let me,” Jean asks him, his long fingers grabbing the wrapper and Jeremy can’t think and there’s only Jean Jean Jean on his brain and pleasing him and being good for him. He wants to be so so good for Jean, as if it was what he was made for.

“Here,” Jean passes the open wrapper for him, presenting himself. Jeremy thinks he has to go to Church again, because God is real if he allows such views to bestow him.

That’s when a rooster starts crowing. Jeremy’s alarm, which he once thought was hilarious. Killing his dream. Such a wonderful dream. He’s breathless and painfully hard. He runs a hand over his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he palms himself. It’s been two weeks since he first kissed Jean; and they had regularly gotten more sessions of just kissing. This was bound to happen. He figures he could pay Leo a visit, then remembers Jean’s comment and how he wouldn’t have enough time to shower the stench off. Plus Leo is just too complicated, with climbing over his house and his stupid fricking car. He shakes his head, pressing down harder on his lap until it hurts. Some kisses don’t mean exclusivity, much less if they haven’t discussed it, haven’t even talked about this new development, as if it hadn’t happened at all. As if Jeremy sleeping over didn’t mean they were all over each other from the waist up. He could just sleep around. Jean could sleep around too, he’s seen more than a couple cheerleaders hope Jean runs a train through them. It wouldn’t hurt his image, nobody would accuse him of sleeping his way up if he slept with cheerleaders. Jeremy considers punching his own dick over this thought, but takes a deep breath instead and stretches.

He’s just too in his head, he’ll sleep with someone and get over it. He’s thinking too much when he’s just helping Jean out. Being the release he mentioned.

He gets ready for practice, rubbing a quick one decidedly not thinking about the way Jean says his name, or how quickly he can turn a racquet with a flick of his wrist, or how he grabs his chin with that same hand he manages his heavy racquet with, or how… Okay, he does come with Jean on his mind. He's only human.

He hopes he pins him on the locker room wall in one of their stolen moments together. The moments they don’t talk about. That’ll help.

Jeremy is utterly fricked.

***

By the grace of the Exy gods, his wish comes true. Jean and him having the locker room to themselves. He tangles his fingers on Jean’s hair, not pulling, just scratching lightly. A soft moan leaves Jean’s mouth. He vaguely considers bringing up labels and boundaries, but then Jean picks him up by the back of his thighs and slams him against the lockers and all blood leaves his brain and it might be the hottest thing that’s ever been done to him. Jean’s hands holding him up as he opens his mouth wide and sucks on Jeremy’s tongue.

As he has him pinned, kissing his jawline, Jeremy feels heady, he thinks he could come from two strokes like this, and that thought is terrifying. Jean really has his every nerve under his fingers. His long fingers.

“Jeremy,” Jean says, detaching, Jeremy whines at the loss, looking at Jean with half masted eyes, he puts him down on the ground carefully. Jeremy pouts, “You went away,”

He tilts his head, did he? Perhaps he did, too enraptured in Jean’s attention, “Sorry,” he says, kissing Jean’s cheek.

Jean studies him for a long while. Being under his gaze is something Jeremy doesn’t think one can get used to. His grey eyes showing storms within, his eyebrows inquisitive.

“Why don’t you like being queer?” Jean asks, and it’s the last thing Jeremy expects him to ask. He wants to protest, but he can’t lie to Jean. He can’t avoid him either.

He groans, his forehead now on Jean’s shoulder, “It makes my life harder,” Jean hums, agreeing. Jeremy doesn’t know the extent in which homophobia has affected Jean, but he’s read the headlines, seen Jean picked apart for something he didn’t consent to. Homophobia also affects him, regardless of the fact he could be with women.

“It’s part of you,” says Jean, grabbing Jeremy by his chin, studying his eyes, “You’re not going to law school and you’re not marrying a girl,”

It’s an order, and Jeremy wants to protest that he has to. But he doesn’t feel like arguing for something he doesn’t have his heart on. So he just nods, hugging Jean, feeling his heartbeat next to his. It’s part of you too, he wants to say. But this truth is a delicate one, he doesn’t even know if Jean thinks of himself as queer, or if liking men is just something he doesn’t think about. Given how he was raised, Jeremy is inclined to believe he does think about it quite a lot. He feels his bruised lips before throwing his duffle bag on his locker, ready for class. Catches a glimpse of Jean, trying to get all his answers from the sharp lines of his body.

One day, he’ll get the answers he needs to fully understand Jean, and it’ll break his heart, and he’ll be careful with the truth.

***

Days later, he can’t concentrate on pottery class, and he’s man enough to admit to the reason: Jean working with his fingers makes him incredibly horny.

Just some kissing has him like this… He feels like a teenager again, making a misshapen form that he had wanted to be a pear. He sighs frustrated. Ignoring the looks Elias is throwing him. He wets his fingers again, now feeling weirdly frustrated. He really needs to get laid. He knows this. He can’t ask Jean to get to a point where he’s not comfortable. That’s not fair to either of them.

Fuck what I deserve, what about what I want?

He shivers. He created something even worse. He thinks of creating a dagger to end his suffering, then notes Jean is looking at him, and just smiles, feeling like the worst person on earth.

This is his own crap, and he has to figure it out.

***

After class, he chooses to text one of his regular hook ups; Sam. Lives on campus. Is an asshole. The usual.

He doesn’t expect to get a text from Jean.

He opens it to see a picture of a flower. He examines it, it’s not a good picture, Jean’s finger is in frame. But Jean saw something beautiful and shared it with him.

When a text comes from Sam thirsty to get a piece of Jeremy, he blocks his number, annoyed at his poor manners.

***

He’s not proud of how often he jerks off after kissing Jean now, muffling his moans with his biceps in the shower, knowing he’s loud as heck. Only thinking of Jean, of bringing him to the edge, of touching him. He feels like an absolute pervert and he can’t help it.

Maybe it’s a good thing they’re not having sex, if he feels this way from just kissing, he can’t imagine what getting off with Jean would do to him. Melt his brain, maybe. A sexual lobotomy.

He knows how foolish he’s being, and Laila’s passive aggressive remarks remind him of this. He needs to have a talk with Jean, figure out each other's goals and boundaries. But it feels so fragile and he wants to be selfish, but selfish is all he’s ever been. Selfish is what killed—. No. Falling into self pity is too easy.

They’re getting ready for a Trojans party, celebrating their latest victory against the Wildcats. Faser had tried hitting him up after trying to get him riled up all match long. But it was like his words were static. He had kind of been scared Jean would body check him, knowing he could keep a grudge for life. Knowing he had the upper body strength necessary to knock anyone out. But Jean hadn’t. Jeremy didn’t miss the way his jaw worked when he looked at him from under his helmet, as if planning his untimely death.

It kind of did something to Jeremy, and it had ended up with Jean kissing him in one of the bathroom stalls, Jeremy sitting on his lap. It was too much and not enough.

Faser had texted him the address of the hotel they were staying in. Saying he had vodka. Jeremy felt tempted for a moment, he had had a perpetual hard on for weeks now. It was annoying. But he guessed maybe he had somehow grown a spine, or maybe he knew Faser gave out a stench Jean would be able to catch, because he told him no and turned off his phone.

So now, the day after their game, he was jerking off under cold water after kissing Jean for what felt like hours but hadn’t been more than 15 minutes. He knew he was awful for this. And that he needed to get laid, just not with Faser. Or Leo. Or Clark. Or Sam. Or Elias.

Maybe someone new. Another student athlete with dark curls and maybe an accent, who could satisfy his needs.

He was a pervert and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He dries off without looking in the mirror, then heads for Jean and his room, only a towel covering him. Years of changing in locker rooms had taken off any inhibitions about being naked around other athletes, and well, he also liked how Jean’s eyes lingered. It was nice. He liked Jean’s attention on him, liked the effect he had on the Frenchman.

And Jean is open in his admiration, his eyes wide and want in his face. Jeremy bites his tongue, but pretends he can’t see his teammate staring. He clears his throat, Jean looks away, his cheeks red.

“My turn to ask a question,” Jeremy says as he searches the closet for an outfit.

“Didn’t know this was a game we were playing,” Jean says, but he looks interested.

“It could help, we both avoid talking about ourselves,” Jeremy says, a knot forming in his throat at the admission. Jean looks surprised, but his eyes are still curious, “Why don’t you like being queer?”

He swallows with difficulty. He’s sure Jean notices. His face twists into something he can’t read. He rubs two fingers on the back of his neck. Where Grayson bit him. Jeremy knows that's not the reason. He holds on.

“No queers in the Perfect Court,” he says, and Jeremy frowns, but before he can protest that Neil Josten was number four, he continues, “I got caught, once, looking at… magazines,” he looks away, looks back, a blush spreading on his beautiful features, “Articles, of you,” Jeremy’s eyes widen, “I couldn’t read much, but the pictures,” he shrugs, “So Riko made sure I never… He ordered them to…” he can’t continue; breathing heavily, “Now they say that’s how I made Perfect Court, not the way I play,” he rolls his eyes, and Jeremy admires his ability to endure the horrors and still remark on his skill in the court. And he should be proud, watching him play is mesmerizing. He’s lucky to have him on the roster. They all are.

Jeremy kisses his cheek softly, “Thank you for telling me, and it bears repeating: you never deserved it. You were just a kid, feeling attracted to someone is no reason for punishment,” his words make him cringe, isn’t that what he’s doing to himself over Jean? He bites his cheek, “You don’t need to be Perfect Court, Jean, you just need to be Jean Moreau,”

Jean looks at him with a look that has Jeremy wanting to scream, to hold him, to never let him go. He smiles at him.

“Now, we should go,”

Jean nods, standing up. He’s wearing an outfit Cat picked for him. A skin tight sleeveless blue turtleneck and black skinny jeans that were entirely too tight. Jeremy allows himself to stare just as Jean stares back at him.

“You look good,” Jeremy says before he can stop himself; he’s had the man’s tongue down his throat, yet saying this feels like too much. Jean blushes.

“You too,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck; shyness, not harming himself. He heads for the door.

“Wait,” Jeremy says, a hand out on Jean’s upper arm to stop him, looking at his tattoo, “stop me if you don’t—, I just have an idea,”

Jean looks at him with a raised eyebrow, but keeps still. Letting Jeremy go grab a Sharpie from his desk.

He opens it, Jean stares at it, a question in his face, “Do you trust me?” he asks. Jean looks at the tip of the marker, then at Jeremy.

“Yes,” he says.

Jeremy nods, smiling, “Lean down, you’re too tall,”

“I’m normal sized,” Jean says as he complies, Jeremy wants to say they’re not in Europe and 6’5 is not a normal size, but he’s too focused on his work, “Your team is just full of—,” the cold tip of the marker touches his cheek, “such short players,”

Jeremy laughs at Jean’s remark, having heard this complaint from him plenty, his lines are careful as he finishes the simple idea he had, “Done,”

Jean touches the lines on his face, Jeremy takes out his phone and snaps a picture, turning his screen to Jean, who studies the photo, holding Jeremy’s phone carefully in his hand.

He says nothing, except, “Can you send that to me?” as they leave in a taxi.

***

The ride to the party is silent, their hands almost touching, or maybe Jeremy was imagining stuff. He’s vaguely aware French people have different views on what constitutes a friendly versus a familiar versus a romantic touch, so he can’t go on overthinking every time Jean’s pinky finger is slightly too close to his.

Again, a good fuck could solve all this. He puts it on his mental agenda to find an exchange student and a thought of how freaked up he was passed his head before deciding he didn’t think he cared that much if it meant he could stop lusting after Jean.

They arrive at the party, quickly finding the rest of the floozies, Cody handing a peach to Jean, whose face lights up and Jeremy thinks he smiled for a microsecond there, “Thank you Cody,” he says, handing it to Cat so she can safekeep it on her backpack, she makes a deeply inappropriate remark on Jean’s looks Jeremy would be worried about if Cat wasn’t queerer than a three dollar bill.

“Well,” Jeremy says, clapping his hands together, “I intend to get absolutely hammered , anyone want anything?” everyone but Jean shakes their head, Ananya, Pat and Cody showing their coolers, “okay, I’ll be right back,” he says, heading for the bar, Jean following behind him. They greet each of their teammates, everyone in good spirits. Tanner tells Jean he’s watched some Youtube videos and can now say all the exy positions in French, Jean takes his time to correct him on each pronunciation, and Jeremy has to down a whole shot over how beautiful the whole scene is, before cracking open a beer. Finally, another freshman grabs Tanner away, and Jean’s attention is back on Jeremy and he is not drunk yet and one can not get drunk from someone else looking at them, Jeremy takes a swig of his beer.

Jean points at the bottle as it comes down from Jeremy’s lips, “Can I try?” and well, if Jeremy hadn’t just swallowed the liquid down, he’d be choking. Jean has never tried alcohol– he’s said as much, and Jeremy would’ve known if that had changed anytime recently.

“Uh,” he cleans the mouth of the bottle, realizing how ridiculous he is, given they had aggressively made out less than two hours before, “Sure,” he passes the bottle to Jean, who checks the calorie information on the label, shuddering a little before taking a small sip. Immediately making a face that has Jeremy breaking into a smile.

“ Allemands d’merde, putain, ” Jean curses out, and Jeremy blushes at the cursing he can understand now, “You drink this? On purpose? Why? ” Jeremy shrugs, unable to stop smiling, “No taste, no taste at all,” he goes grab something from the ice, choosing a cranberry flavored 5% drink.

“That has vodka in it,” Jeremy warns him, still nervous at the prospect of Jean drinking. Though, given Jean’s large build and height, it might take a lot for him to actually get drunk. Frick, Jeremy should’ve paid more attention in Biology class… Chemistry class? He doesn’t even know.

Jean checks the caloric value in the bottle, “I’ll just take some sips,” he says, as if thinking long and hard, “I just want to know…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, popping the cooler up. Jeremy wonders if it has anything to do with Kevin Day. He wants to ask. Instead, he just finishes his beer and grabs something heavier for himself, some rum and coke. His phone is off and he’s only among his teammates (plus their dates), and Laila’s uncle will send them a cab home. He is safe here, and he has to give a speech and he’s happy and as long as Lucas doesn’t try to interrogate Jean, the Trojans should have a swell time.

He toasts Jean with their drinks as they both take a gulp, his eyes following the way Jean’s Adam’s apple moves, and hearing the delicious sound of his groan at seeing just how nasty vodka is. He considers asking if it feels how he expected, if it helps with the memories, but he bites his tongue. Time and place, he’ll open up eventually. He can’t force his healing with constant probing. Instead, he gets back to the floozies as he sees Derrick and Derek setting up a karaoke machine. When he finishes his rum and coke, he’ll be ready to terrorize the Trojans with his rendition of Gwen Stefani’s Hollaback Girl .

As they rejoin the Floozies, who are setting up a game of Beer Pong Jean looks at with disgust in his face, Jeremy allows himself to bask in the glory of the moment; the season is off to a great start, he’s the captain of a Big 3 (Big 2?) Class I exy team, he’s been helping his new friend slash teammate slash kissing buddy to acclimate to his new life and freedom, he’ll fail his LSATs and go pro on exy as he really, actually wanted (okay, maybe the alcohol is getting to him…). His biggest worry lately seemed to be that he had been horny too often and without the relief of another body, which all things considered, was champagne problems.

As he looks around with fondness in his eyes, the tall backliner approaches him, leaning down to talk into his ear over the loud music, “This tastes artificial,” he says, making a sour face, “I do not believe it contains any actual cranberry,”

Jeremy resists the urge to kiss him silly in that exact moment, instead talking to Jean’s ear in turn, “Offer it to Ananya, she loves a vodka cran,” Jean’s wispy hair moves and Jeremy feels it on his nose, and he gets confirmation of the fact he needs to get help, because that really, really shouldn’t make him shiver.

Jean goes to give his cooler to Ananya as instructed, and she hugs him, which makes him jump a little, and Jeremy is ready to intervene if needed, but he awkwardly pats her back, so he stands down, drinking his rum and coke.

His best friend approaches him then, holding her own drink, knowing her, it’s something utterly disgusting Cat prepared and she drinks solely because it was made by her girlfriend and ‘see Jeremy, the thing with my concoctions is that nobody wants to steal them, it’s genius’ Cat had explained once after Jeremy stole a sip from her cup and promptly spat it out.

“He let you draw by his tattoo,” she says, smiling as she looks over to Jean, who’s now talking to Xavier, well, listening to Xavier tell him something, “You made a heart ,” she says, now looking at Jeremy, one of her eyebrows raised, a cheeky smile on her face. He shrugs, smiling as he drinks from his cup, “Tell me something, are you two official? I mean, I get if you don’t want the whole team knowing, especially given Jean’s…” she doesn’t finish, it’s not good to call it history or reputation, and they won't call it rumors. He understands, though, “But you could tell me, tell us if we have to prepare to hear you two smashing, I think your babies would be beautiful, and they’d have the most interesting accents ever,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes, “We’re…” what are they? The truth seems fragile. The truth seems like it’ll fade away at any point. Good things never last for Jeremy, “Honestly, Laila? I have no clue,” Jeremy sighs, finishing his drink and grabbing a half finished beer someone abandoned, “We… haven’t really discussed it,” he admits, peeling off the label nervously.

Laila looks at him, incredulous, “ Jeremy ,” she says, her eyes turning serious, “Tell me you haven’t…” she examines his face.

“ No, ” he responds, looking around, making sure nobody is eavesdropping, “I’m not sleeping with him,” he rubs his eyes, “It’s both solace and torture,” he mumbles into the mouth of the bottle.

To this, Laila slaps his chest, making him spill some of his beer over his shirt, “ Talk to him, ” she says, “Figure where you two stand, tonight if possible. He deserves that much,” she turns to look at him, now trying his hand at beer pong with Tanner by his side, Lucas and Cody on the other side, Tanner with utter admiration on his face, “Tanner might steal him from you,”

“Nah, he sees Tanner as a little brother,” Jeremy says fondly, Laila raises an eyebrow at him.

“He’s one year older than Tanner, at most ,”

Jeremy just shrugs, finishing his beer and standing over a desk to begin his captain duties of giving a speech, someone in the crowd wolf-whistles at him over his wet shirt, someone else yells at him to take it off.

He rolls his eyes with a smile, beginning to unbutton his shirt, “You perverts, if that’ll get you to listen to me!” he takes it fully off, prompting wild roars from his large team, and his cheeks feel warm from the alcohol and the love love love he feels all around. God, he’s a light weight.

He finishes his speech with a ‘Let’s go!’ and jumps from the table, stumbling to his feet and getting his balance back thanks to Jean.

“Oh, hadn’t seen you there,” he says, his hands on Jean’s chest, and he doesn’t know why they’re there, except Jean had just helped him regain his balance, of course, and Jean looks just a little flushed from the beer he consumed at beer pong because every Trojan knows Cody is the royal of beer pong.

“Tell me the phrase,” Jean tells him in that low voice of his that goes straight into Jeremy’s—

“No need,” Jeremy gives him a little slap on the chest, “It’s just family tonight, Jean, and some of their partners,” he says, grabbing a half empty cooler and downing most of it, offering what remains to Jean.

“You have no shirt on,” Jean says, stretching to grab it, a sliver of skin showing as his shirt riles up and Jeremy wants to lick it so badly he should be put in time out over it. Jean puts a hand over the small of Jeremy’s back and he’s sure he blacked out, because next thing he knows, they’re in the bathroom, Jean sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His shirt bundled up on his hands, Jean studying him with unfocused eyes. Jeremy shakes his head. The cooler is now empty, Jean having drank it. He puts on his shirt, not buttoning it up, Jean’s eyes trail and focus on his happy trail. Jeremy bites his tongue hard enough he tastes blood.

“Jean,” he says, his voice low, a good meter of distance between them, “how are you feeling?”

“English feels harder to understand,” he says, a look of terror on his face, “I’m sorry,” he says, and Jeremy has to blink a couple of times to understand why he’s apologizing, he shakes his head.

“Jean, it’s your–,” he hiccups, “third language, it’s okay,” he gets closer to hold his hands, rubbing his thumbs on the back of them, “I’m sure everyone will understand,” he smiles, and decides to just do what he’d do with Laila, kissing his forehead, Jean looks up at him with curiosity clear on his face, before he looks down to his chest again.

“You should button up,” Jean says, and Jeremy looks down, his chest still in display, he looks back at Jean, who seems now revolted with Jeremy. He complies, Jean hums and leaves the bathroom, as if that was his main purpose. Jeremy stays in the bathroom, confused.

***

Hours later, after Jeremy had indeed terrorized the Trojans by teaching them how to spell BANANAS, they were heading out, Jean sitting on the front seat of the cab given the size of his legs.

The night had gone well, everyone was in a good mood and were ecstatic to learn it was Jean’s first ever time drinking, giving him prep talks on hangovers, a freshman even handing him some effervescent pills to hydrate Jean had accepted since it wasn’t medicine.

Karaoke had been a highlight for sure. Jean had insisted he didn’t know the words to Total Eclipse of the Heart , but Derrick and Derek had led him most of the time while Jean read “Turn around,” several times in monotone with that accent of his. It was a riot.

Jeremy had taken off his clothes, only keeping his briefs and slipping into his bed with a smile on his face.

“Jeremy,” he hears distantly, maybe he was dreaming. He had such nice dreams with that voice, but he hears it again, panicked, “Jeremy, the room is spinning,”

“It’s the alcohol,” Jeremy says, turning to see Jean, who looked terrified. And with an inner conflict, until two minutes pass and he talks again.

“Can you sleep next to me? I’d feel safer,” he says, and Jeremy is convinced he’s dreaming now.

“Of course,” he says, standing up and doing his best to walk the short distance without falling. He’s a top ranked college athlete, yet he struggles to do the short distance. Jean scoots over as Jeremy gets under the blankets with him. They had cuddled before, but never slept the night next to each other. Plus, they’re both shirtless. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

Before he can say anything, Jean’s mouth is over his, he reciprocates eagerly, but when Jean pulls away, he looks mortified, “I should ask, sorry,”

“Jean,” Jeremy, joins their foreheads, “You can kiss me anytime you want,” it’s a dangerous thing to offer. But he offers it anyway. Jean looks away, takes a deep breath.

“I wanted to, at the party— in the bathroom, but I didn’t feel in control of my body, it was scary,” he says, sighing, “I don’t like alcohol, I like being in control,” he concludes. Jeremy nods, kissing the tip of his nose.

“You’re always in control with me, I promise,” another dangerous promise to give. He was offering them up like candy. Jean stays quiet, Jeremy moves to rearrange himself, “Is this okay? Do you need me to hold you?” he asks, whispering, too close to each other for anything else. Jean nods, looking very scared, Jeremy wraps his arms around him, rests his head on Jean’s chest, “I got you, you’re safe,” Jean shakes beneath him, “Shhh,” he says, kissing his sternum, “Breathe with me,” he guides him through some basic breathing until he’s asleep, and Jeremy is painfully awake, too concentrated on Jean’s skin against his and how good and right this feels.

Frick.

Chapter Text

Having his own set for Jean, Cat, and Laila’s apartment had seemed silly to him at first. But he’s grateful for it in times like this, when he can let himself inside without needing ring the doorbell. Able to catch something unexpected.

Today it’s Jean talking on the phone.

In French.

This can only mean he’s talking to either Kevin or Neil Josten, and by the annoyed look on his face, it’s the latter.

Jeremy doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he’s able to catch his name and the French word for “kill”, which seems like something that should concern him. He knocks to get inside the room, Jean turning, the edge to his face disappearing as soon as he sees it’s Jeremy and not someone else. He mutters more rapid fire French at Neil Josten before hanging up and saying something under his breath Jeremy interprets to be ‘ that uneducated Brit gremlin ’.

Jeremy can’t say he’s a huge fan of Neil Josten, given their less than friendly interactions. But he means a lot to Jean, so he keeps his comments to himself.

“I didn’t know you talked to him on the phone often,” he says, taking off his shoes.

“I don’t,” Jean says, turning his phone off, “He checks on me now that he’s inc- incapa- incapac— unable to play,” Jean groans in frustration. Jeremy wishes with all his heart he was fluent in French so Jean could just talk in it, “He likes meddling,” he says, his fingers up in the air as if to explain.

Jeremy bites the inside of his cheek, considering, then goes for it, “Should I be scared of him?” he asks, for the first time grasping maybe he should be concerned about Jean’s connections to the mafia. Not like Jean was dangerous, but people around him…

“Of Nat—Neil?” Jean says, a dry laugh, “No, you’re off limits,” he says, Jeremy feels something in his stomach he doesn’t like, “He’s protective of me, is all,”

He knows better than to be jealous of Neil Josten out of all people, but something must’ve shown in his face, because Jean continues, “He was meant to be my forever partner,”

“When you say that, what precisely do you mean?” Jeremy’s head feels like his brain is melting. Were Neil and Jean a thing? He remembers Neil’s short lived “4” tattoo, marking him as Perfect Court. Had their time in Edgar Allan granted them something beyond Jeremy’s scope of possible knowledge or experience?

Jean looks at him like the answer is obvious, but continues, “In Evermore. It was never meant to be Zane, it was a mistake, Neil had been misplaced” there’s a certain— Jeremy guesses it’s nostalgia or sadness or perhaps something he can’t name— in Jean's voice. Jeremy nods. He doesn’t think he’s following as much as he’d like to.

“So now he calls to annoy you,” he says, taking off his shirt to change into bed clothes, deciding he was going to relax the rest of the afternoon before he had to drive back home. Perhaps he’d catch some sleep. Or watch a match with Jean.

Jean mumbles something rude in French before saying, “That petulant child does nothing but bring problems to those around him,” he hugs his knees, “He just wanted to hear how I’m doing,”

That still didn’t tell Jeremy why Jean had mentioned killing him, but he decides to drop it, given Jean had assured him he wasn’t in danger.

“Did you tell him about drinking?” Jeremy teases, a soft voice and smile to show Jean he didn’t have anything to be ashamed about.

Jean blushes, “No, he’d enjoy that,” he says, hugging his knees tighter, “Are you staying tonight?”

This question was often code for Let’s kiss and Jeremy would all but oblige, but he sighs instead, “No, mom wants me for dinner,”

“You’re tired,” Jean says, and it’s not a question, “Come sleep,”

Jeremy complies, easily falling asleep on Jean’s chest.

***

When he wakes up, Jean’s cross is in his line of sight. He knows it’s Renee’s, Jean’s angel. More than once he’s wanted to tug on it. Sick and twisted and all that.

“Would you have liked to be a Fox?” Jeremy asks after some minutes drawing soft circles on his chest.

This seems to take Jean by surprise, “No,” he says, staring at the ceiling, “I can’t play with Kevin again,” Jeremy hums, feeling the reverberation of it on Jean’s chest, “Though, they do need a good backliner, if they were any smart, they would’ve forced me to stay,” Jeremy snorts out a laugh. As good as Matt Boyd and Aaron Minyard were, Nicky Hemmick was just okay, and everyone knew he had only gotten a spot in the line by virtue of being Andrew Minyard’s cousin, who was the best goalkeeper Class I exy had to offer, rivaled only by Laila, of course.

“You could’ve been with Renee, though,” Jeremy can’t help the jealousy that seeps into his words, Jean breathes a bit sharply, but gives no other indication Jeremy’s words had affected him.

“Sure, but it would all be,” he tries conjuring up a word from the air, a gesture Jeremy has become intimately familiar with, “ Resentment, ” he says, “I would resent them all, Kevin for leaving, Renee for saving me, Neil for… existing. It would be a terrible thing. This is the only team I could belong to, your non violent approach, as infuriating as it is, forces me to be the best. It’s improvement I couldn’t have gotten otherwise,”

“You could’ve beaten Faser up though,” Jeremy isn’t sure why he says it. Maybe prompting Jean to show he cares. Wanting to hear him caring.

Jean groans, “Even with how far he was, I could’ve made it so he never played or hurt anyone again, but there were too many witnesses,” he says, and the casual capacity and threat of unmeasurable violence should scare Jeremy, but he’s admittedly turned on.

“I know you could have,” Jeremy says, “Thank you for holding back,” Jean being so protective of him has his head spinning, but he guesses he’d do the same for Cat and Laila.

“I’ll destroy him when we go pro, if anyone wants to recruit his sorry excuse of a game,”

“You really want to go pro?”

“Exy is all I do,” Jean says, avoiding Jeremy’s eyes, “It’s all I am, I can’t live without it,”

“But you hate it,”

“Irrelevant,”

Jeremy bites his tongue, he guesses exy was a reprieve from a life with a family of mafiosos, coming to the US to play must’ve felt akin to freedom, before Riko’s abuse began, “I want you to be happy, Jean,” Jeremy says, sitting up with help of his forearm, “I know I’m your captain and I should encourage you to play, but as your friend and… I care about your happiness,”

“Then stop talking,” Jean says, his hand going to the back of Jeremy’s neck to catch his lips on a bruising kiss.

They continue kissing until it’s time for Jeremy to go, and he can’t help but be in a good mood during dinner with his family, forgetting himself.

***

Their next game is an out of state against Nevada.

And it’s on Jean’s birthday.

As team captain, Jeremy made sure to tell everyone it was Jean’s 20th birthday and that he had never celebrated it before. Everyone seemed in shock, except Zachary, who had grown up a Jehovah Witness. Jeremy told everyone not to overwhelm Jean, but allowed for people to bring him small presents and Cat got him a sugar-free brownie.

Derrick and Derek made sure to memorize how to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ in French, alas with horrible pronunciation, and overall, everyone was very excited to celebrate Jean. Jeremy, as usual, was so proud of his team.

At the Lofts, Jeremy arrives extra early to their apartment to be the third person to congratulate him, after Cat and Laila, who had made sure to give him his favorite açai bowl and a strong cup of coffee to start his day off. Jeremy hands him his gift and Jean opens it with such care, as if he’s never received a wrapped present before– Jeremy, hours later, realizes he probably hasn’t. Jeremy had gotten him a blue button up with a 29 embroidered in, using some of his therapy cash he had managed to pocket. Jean runs soft fingers through the number as he thanks Jeremy, his eyes wide, appreciation clear as day on his face. Jeremy kisses his cheek. Then he draws the < next to Jean’s tattoo, forming the little heart he had on more often than not now. Jean puts on the shirt, looking very proud, before they head out for classes. Given they had a game later in the day, practice was cancelled (Jean had strong opinions about this, and they were all used to hearing them). They still had to attend their first class of the day before taking the bus to Vegas.

Jeremy naps in the class he takes with Jean, since it didn’t count for his grades, recovering some of the sleep he had lost due to how excited he was over Jean’s present.

In the bus, the congratulations start for Jean, everyone handing him something; most of the presents from those closest to him were fruit, but some had given him cartoon character band aids, others Sharpies, and one freshman had handed him hair clips, which Jean eyed curiously before putting them in his backpack. He seemed a little overwhelmed as they sang Happy Birthday to him with his brownie in hand, then had a look of sheer revulsion as Derrick and Derek butchered the French version, but he still thanked everyone.

Jeremy was smiling widely as everyone returned to their seats, settling down next to Jean as they entered the freeway. Jean looked like he was deep in thought.

“Does this happen every year?” he asks, his phone pinging to a message from Neil Josten. He doesn’t open it.

“Yep, it’s radical,” says Jeremy, smiling, “Sorry if it was too much, in my defense, I stopped them from getting balloons and all that,” he says.

Jean does open his phone when a message from Kevin comes in, his look is the same he gets when it comes to the Queen of exy, inscrutable.

“Thank you,” he says, after typing a quick response, “It was… adequate,”

Jeremy laughs with Jean’s choice of words, looking at him carefully picking at his brownie with those long fingers. Soon enough he’s sleeping, careful not to rest in Jean’s chest lest the entire team roster starts talking.

***

They tie on the game, going to penalties. Jeremy takes the deciding shot, and they’re able to celebrate.

It isn’t as good as last game, when they cleaned the floor with the Wildcats, but it’s still pretty good.

Jeremy had put Jean on in the first half, so he had sat for the second one, he heads towards him to talk about the game, knowing Jean liked to give feedback as soon as possible, as well as receive it, but he sees him talking to a cheerleader, Amybeth, if Jeremy remembers correctly. As Laila would say, he has no clue if she’s pretty, but he does know she’s touchy, grabbing at Jean’s muscled arm, and Jean seems receptive. Jeremy decides to move closer. She is talking to him in French, he can tell it’s not the most fluent French, but still. Jean is talking slower for her and she’s throwing her head back as she laughs. Jeremy grips his racquet hard, almost missing some cameraman telling him to come over for an interview with Xavier, he shakes his head, leaving the conversation he was not even a part of and putting on his media persona to discuss the game and passing captaincy over to Xavier when he graduates. He does not think of the fact Amybeth is a natural blonde or the way Jean’s eyes trailed to her exposed neck as she laughed.

***

They stay in a hotel for the night, and even though they’re on the fifteenth floor, Jeremy still takes the stairs with Jean. He makes sure to go first and not look at Jean much, lest his face gives something away.

As he goes “Darn it,” after putting the card key on wrong, Jean tilts his head.

“It was an okay game,” Jean assures him.

“You thought it was bad,” Jeremy corrects, knowing Jean too well, “I’m not mad about it, we won,”

Jean opens his mouth, probably to tell Jeremy how winning wasn’t enough, but he closes it, “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says instead, leaning on the wall as he drops his bag by the small hallway of the hotel room, towering over Jeremy and putting a hand next to Jeremy’s head as he pushes him into the wall without needing to touch him.

Jeremy’s brain goes blank. Jean has to know how hot this is.

His throat feels impossibly dry, “I…” he starts, but he kisses Jean instead, and Jean grabs him by his waist and then carries him to one of the beds, so maybe Amybeth doesn’t matter at all.

***

In the bus the next morning, Cat and Laila sit behind Jeremy and Jean. Cat pokes Jean’s ribs, he jumps, but turns to her.

“Saw you talking to Amybeth yesterday,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows, Jeremy is suddenly less interested in his Gameboy.

Jean blinks as if unsure what she’s talking about, “Yes,” he says.

“She’s cute,” Cat says, and Laila is nodding, throwing a quick look to Jeremy, who pretends he’s still playing, “What did you talk about?”

Jean waves his hand, “She lived in France for some six months,” he says, “Parisian French,” he says with disdain, Jeremy smiles to himself, knowing he was making sure to learn Marseille French, “We talked a little about it and she passed me her number, for pastries,”

The way he says the word makes Jeremy take a minute to process someone had asked Jean out. A girl. He had the urge to put his hands on his own throat, but instead he grips his console with more strength than he should.

“Aw, that’s nice,” Cat smiles, Jeremy can feel Laila kicking his seat.

Jean hums noncommittally, “Friends outside the Trojans are pointless,”

Cat shrugs, “It couldn’t hurt to have someone to… talk about France with,” she says, a squeal mid sentence after Laila pinches her.

“Hm,” Jean says, ending the conversation. Jeremy has a million questions he wants to ask, but he turns off his Gameboy and just focuses on breathing. Jean and him weren’t anything other than kissing buddies. No matter how good last night had been, sleeping on the same bed, they still weren’t anything. Jeremy knew it was half his fault, he hadn’t expressed any wish for a relationship, had just gone along with whatever Jean said, and most of the time, Jean didn’t want to say anything at all. It was going nowhere at this rate. Jeremy realizes Jean is staring at him, he gives him his best fake smile. Jean huffs, but says nothing, leaning his head to sleep, exposing his long neck, full of moles and-–.

Jeremy leaves his seat, going to sit next to Cody as they chat away with Ananya and Pat, letting them distract him from his turbulent thoughts and utter jealousy as he picks on dead skin from his knees.

***

Jeremy is vaguely aware of the fact Jean did text the cheerleader. And he was going to see her for pastries in a cute little shop near campus. He only knew because Laila had told him Cat had told her.

He hoped they were so happy and had the cutest blond babies with the weirdest accents imaginable. Maybe they’d raise them in France. Jean wouldn’t have queerness ruining his reputation anymore. He should be happy for him. But he felt like walking into oncoming traffic.

He grips his steering wheel until his knuckles are fully white. He had plans tonight; for them, he needed to arrive at his home, shower, prepare, and somehow convince his mother to let him off her sight.

It was ridiculous, but so was his life.

In the shower, he takes moments too long with his face under the spray, picturing what it must be like to drown in land, wanting to understand Jean on a deeper level. He wasn’t sure exactly how the Ravens used water to punish, but after asking Kevin some casual questions, he had figured out only Jean had gone through it, and from the way he specifically looked at dripping water, he knew it had to do with that.

As he feels like water will enter his lungs, he takes a big breath. This didn’t make him understand Jean any better, and he knew Jean would be upset to learn he had tried to at all.

He sits through dinner with nice clothes on before changing into something bar-appropriate. He worries his lip between his teeth as he rehearses what he’ll tell his mother, but luckily, she had been called for an emergency at the hospital. He decides to take his bike, not wanting to stay sober at all for the night. He knew he had to be smart about the whole operation. A hook up in the bar restroom seemed like the sensitive choice, but he was unsure it’d fulfill him.

As he pictures Jean holding hands with Amybeth, his jaw sets and he decides that anything will do at this point. Jeremy Knox, human catastrophe.

He pedals away to West Hollywood.

***

The club smells of man , and Jeremy can’t help but think how much Jean would hate to see him after this.

Good thing he wouldn’t see him, too busy with his Southern All American girlfriend.

Jeremy shakes his head. He’s a Cali All American boy. He’s being irrational. Jean often makes him so. He lets a frat guy buy him a shot before he starts scanning the room for his objective: An European.

He realizes on a surface level that this is not the most ethical of goals, but he guesses they both will get something out of it. He looks for well cared for hair, for branded belts, for those cocky eyes. He finds someone, takes another shot, and makes a b-line, not before giving a small make out session to the guy who paid for his drinks.

He approaches the guy, noting his designer shades hanging from his half buttoned long sleeve, and his well groomed demeanor. He gives him one of his killer smiles. Guaranteed panty dropper. Whatever the equivalent for gay guys was. Jockstrap dropper. Ugh.

The guy gives him a once over, doesn’t introduce himself.

Jeremy leans in so he can be heard over the loud music, “I’m Jeremy, you are?” he says, making sure to linger.

“Carlos,” he says, swirling the ice on his drink. Something fruity. Jeremy bites his tongue.

He feels rusty. Unsure if he’s reading the signs right. He’s not a quitter. He shakes his arms, “Wanna dance?” he asks, the music is less than sexy, he thinks it’s Fiona Apple playing. Reconsiders his life choices. Carlos looks at him, considering, then he says back, “I don’t know much English,” and Jeremy decides a Spanish accent is good enough in his book.

He tries his best to remember his High School Spanish lessons, God, he really should’ve paid more attention in school, but exy had always been more fun, “ Bailar ?” he says, and he knows he should’ve rolled his Rs by the way Carlos cringes, but he still leaves his drink to join him in the dance floor to grind down, now to some Latin music Jeremy does know is Latin American and not Spanish, before he makes an absolute ass of himself. The song ends and Carlos says something Jeremy can’t begin to understand, but he’s pointing to the bathroom and finally.

The music is muffled by the stalls and Jeremy drops to his knees the instant the door is closed, vaguely acknowledging the glory hole by his head, he fumbles with the branded belt as he asks the guy to talk as much as he can. Carlos tries his hand at some basic English, but soon grows frustrated and switches to Spanish. Jeremy realizes halfway through taking his jockstrap off that this isn’t gonna take Jean off his mind. Not even close. Spanish and French sound nothing alike, especially not Jean’s French.. As he begins sucking, he wonders if a Frenchman could help, but as Carlos thrusts into his mouth without warning, he knows it won’t. He doesn’t have a thing for Europeans, he has a thing for Jean Moreau.

Once Carlos leaves the bathroom with a quick ‘ Bye ’, Jeremy grips the edges of the counter in the red lit bathroom. He doesn’t wanna look at his own reflection, but he does. He’s a good looking man. He knows as much. But he’s still… He’ll never be… He shakes his head, not wanting these thoughts anymore. He scoops some water to get the taste of cum off his mouth and decides to call it a night. Jean had probably walked Amybeth to her door and kissed her good night. Jeremy doesn’t know when he became so against straight couples, but maybe it’s just the thought of Jean being with someone else, wouldn’t matter if it was a girl or a boy.

He needs a cigarette.

He heads for the smoking area, looking to bum one before biking back. He hopes he doesn’t have to kiss anyone for it. He still has the taste of cum in his throat.

He pauses his fidgeting with his bracelets when he spots a bright close shaved firetruck red head. Laughing along with some guys and girls, their piercings in place.

He wants to scold Cody for the way they are leaning so close to people when they clearly want Ananya and Pat and they want them back. But that would be the pot calling the kettle black. He instead greets them, his brightest smile in place.

“Jeremy,” Cody says, surprised, “I didn’t know you…” they give him a once over, if the way they bite their cheek is any indication, Jeremy looks rough, “Were going to be here,” they give him a one armed hug, before quickly introducing him to the people they were chatting with, as ‘Jeremy, my captain and friend’. The people ask what sport they play, immediately losing interest at hearing ‘exy’, which Jeremy is used to. He bums one cigarette from one of the girls. Cody eyes him curiously. He tries to ignore it. He already doesn’t like himself for it.

After some small chit chat, Cody pulls him to the side. “What’s wrong?” they ask, running a hand on their shaved head.

“Nothings wrong,” says Jeremy, trying his best to convince himself.

“Jeremy,” Cody puts their fingers up to count, “You look exhausted, you just smoked three cigarettes in a row, your mother will not like you being here, and you look deeply unpleased,”

Jeremy groans. He doesn’t want to talk about his problems. He spends too much time with them already.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me,” Cody says, hands up, “But it could help,”

“Jean is on a date,” Jeremy says before he can regret it.

Cody nods, “I see… with who?” they seem more curious than understanding of Jeremy, and he can’t blame them.

“A cheerleader,”

Cody whistles, “He’s a good looking guy, it was only a matter of time,” they tap their fingers on their leg, “Tell me, does it bother you more he’s on a date, or that he’s with a girl ,”

“What… I don’t…”

“Jeremy, I know you,” Cody says, a very serious look on their face, “You can’t resent him for it, much less if you’ve never told him how you feel,”

Jeremy bites back a retort about Cody’s own situation. It wasn’t quite the same, entering a relationship with two engaged people to telling your very available former cult member teammate how you felt.

Well, maybe it was similar.

“I’m scared of his reputation,” he admits.

“So be scared,” Cody says, already heading back to the rest of the people, “But do something about it,”

Jeremy stays in place for a full minute before going for his bike back home.

***

The next morning, he’s woken up by William telling him his mother wants to see him immediately.

He groans, having slept so little, being bone tired and in a terrible mood after not having solved his issue by having sex.

He changes into some pants and a t-shirt before going downstairs.

In the living room, he finds both his mother and step father sitting on the couch, and he knows his day will be ruined before it even started. He flexes his fingers.

“Jeremy. Sit down,” his mother says, he eyes his step father. He doesn’t know why he’s even there. Except he knows. It’s part of their dance. They don’t care if Jeremy never sees him as his family, they just like taunting him about the fact he is in the family and Jeremy, who kept his last name and has kept his rebellion all along, has to live with that.

He doesn’t sit down at first, wanting to make some excuse or other, but at the end he does, at the very edge of a chair.

His mother clears her throat, “We realized you weren’t in the house for two hours yesterday night, after I left,”

Jeremy’s eyes widen. They hadn’t been home. How did they know?

“We installed cameras,” his step father says, and Jeremy can’t even feel ashamed because the ringing by his ears is too strong. What little freedom he had, taken away.

“Want to explain yourself or do we go straight into you pissing in a cup?” his mother says in that tone that makes Jeremy’s skin crawl. He knows he hasn’t touched coke since that awful night, but his mother would never trust him. Never mind that Bryson was a full on dealer, Jeremy was the sinner by playing ‘a sport nobody cares about’ and being a faggot, as his step father liked to say.

“I didn’t do any drugs, I took my bike, went to a bar, came back,” if they ask for more details, he’ll make them regret it.

“Then you won’t mind peeing in this,” Tilda says, the cup coming out of a bag, Jeremy isn’t even nervous. Just incredulous. She hadn’t made him do this since his sophomore year.

“What? Mom,” he begins.

She puts a finger up, shutting him up. But it’s his step father who speaks.

“We’ve given you everything and you keep thinking it’s all a game, it’s not , Jeremy. The Wilshire family has an image to uphold and you will not be caught at one of your queer bars,”

The way he says queer has Jeremy flinching, but he quickly picks himself back up, “I’m not a Wilshire, so you don’t have to worry about my queer endeavors ruining your reputation all the way to Texas,” his mother looks appalled at the use of the slur, as if he hadn’t started.

“Jeremy, that’s enough,” she says, the warning in her tone clear as day. But Jeremy might be too tired, because he goes on.

“You give me no benefit of the doubt. You hold all this money over me but I’m already not getting an inheritance, and I have to show you every expense I make,” he feels like he’s about to explode, “You blame me for Noah’s death but everyone knew he was going to do it and you still handed him over to me knowing I was a mess, so I’d be the scapegoat, so I’d be a disappointment forever. So Leo hates me now and nobody wants to be on my side and I’m just so full of guilt I fear I’ll choke on it and that’s still not enough and now you want me to pee in a cup,” he scoffs, “Can’t even trust your own son?”

Tilda’s look is stony, but his stepfather is furious. She holds his knee down, so he’ll hold, then she’s standing up, a mere meter from Jeremy.

“I am your mother ,” she says, handing him the cup, “And if I ask you to pias in a cup, you do it,”

He looks at the cup. He knows it’d come back clean. It’d be easier to just comply. But he’s so tired. So tired.

“No,” he says, setting the cup down on the table. He sees his step father’s jaw set. Jeremy is stronger than him now, if it comes to something physical. He keeps eye contact with his mother.

“Where did I go wrong with you?” she says in a defeated voice. Not the first time Jeremy has heard it, won’t be the last, “Why can’t you be more like Bryson?”

“You mean sell drugs?” Jeremy says before he can’t, and his step father stands, his mother shakes her head.

“Leave,” she says, “I don’t care where, leave , I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you coming back with your tail between your legs when you see how hard the world is when you’re not a Wilshire,” I’m not a Wilshire he wants to argue again, it’s pointless, “You have two minutes to grab your stuff,”

He goes without arguing. It’s not the first time this has happened, last time had been when Jeremy bleached his hair. He knows money will be an issue. But he has some cash from the last few therapy sessions he’s pocketed. And he has a place to stay.

He grabs a duffel bag and shoves as much clothes as he can. He wishes he could argue to get his official documents so he can at least get a job, but he guesses that’ll have to wait till graduation. Knowing his mother, she’d be calling him to keep up appearances in less than a fortnight.

He got the car under his name before that fateful night, so he takes it and drives to the Lofts. It was almost time to take Jean to his water therapy anyway.

If he feels like screaming, well, that's for him to deal with alone.

Chapter Text

“You’re early,” Jean says in a suspicious tone when he opens the door, blatantly checking him out, in spite of his disheveled looks. Jeremy is only slightly ashamed of how satisfied this makes him. He had chosen not to scare him by using his keys. Saturdays were rocky as it was with his water therapy.

Jeremy offers him an easy smile. So comforted by Jean’s distrust at everything that wasn’t routine, “Ready to go?” he asks, showing the keys to his car.

Jean eyes his duffle back, then he looks back at Jeremy.

“Oh, just dropping some clothes,” he says, his smile remaining. Jean hums, letting him in so he can leave it in their room. He drops his duffle bag, a big sigh leaving him, and before Jean can keep looking in a way Jeremy feels like it’s piercing through him, he claps his hands, “Welp, better get going!” his smile grows, but he knows it’s not reaching his eyes.

Jean frowns, but nods. He’s fidgeting with his fingers. Jeremy dares look at them. There’s dirt under his nails. He had been tending to his garden, as he often did to clear his head. Jeremy liked getting on his knees to help him with it from time to time, but he didn’t have Jean’s green thumb, his hands not made for creating like Jean’s were, his heart not filled with as much kindness as Jean’s.

“You can wash your hands,” he tells him, knowing Jean didn’t like to be out of his line of sight. Jean looks at his hands, as if just now realizing. He whispers a little “Merde ” that has Jeremy’s heart fluttering. He knows he has to get his crap together. Tell Jean how he feels and either move this forward or accept that Jean doesn’t want him for anything more than physical release, as he had put it.

Jean washed his hands carefully, not looking at the water. Jeremy wants to wash them for him. He decides to get closer, “Let me help,” he says, grabbing the soap and gently passing it through Jean’s skin. Jean looks at him with a look Jeremy can’t read yet, but it has his skin tingling, “Done,” he says as Jean takes a deep breath. Jeremy was being reckless.

“Thank you,” Jean says, checking his hands as if they were a small delicate thing.

“Ready to go?” Jeremy says, before he’s foolish enough to grab his hands, wanting to feel that rough skin with his own. Jean nods, Jeremy smiles, opening the door for him, practicing his French, “Porte” he says proudly. Jean nods, something close to satisfaction in his face. Jeremy could jump.

At least he’d see a lot more of that face while he was here, he hopes.

***

In the afternoon, Jeremy convinces Jean to watch him play video games while Laila and Cat go on a date. Jean is completely enraptured on Jeremy’s narration as he plays Ocarina of Time on Cat’s Nintendo 64. It’s intoxicating to have all of his attention on him. Jean is sitting on a puff chair he doesn’t particularly enjoy, but his limbs look relaxed. Jeremy pauses the game and turns to look at him, sitting by the floor.

It’d be a good time to confess how he felt. But he finds his mouth dry when their eyes stare at each other for a long minute, before Jean is leaning in to kiss him. Jeremy feels heady with it.

“You went out with Amybeth,” he blurts. Needing to know.

Jean seems confused, his hands landing on Jeremy’s cheeks. Jeremy melts at the touch, “Friends are never useless,” he mirrors his words back to Jeremy, “she’s nice, even though she ordered a donut in a French bakery,” he says, and it’s the most offended Jeremy thinks he’s ever heard Jean sound; although, from where Jean comes, this might be a crime punishable by guillotine, he laughs at the thought, “I’m serious,” he deadpans. Jeremy kisses him again.

He can’t break this delicate thing they have going on. Such few things are as precious to him as this. He gets back to playing, enthusiastically telling Jean what he’s doing. Jean holds on to every word, even asking questions.

“You don’t want to play?” he asks Jean on the next save spot, offering the remote. Jean shakes his head.

“I prefer watching you,” he says, and Jeremy wonders if Jean was sent to him to make his brain short circuit every other minute. He continues playing and narrating until Laila and Cat come back.

As they take off their shoes and grab some water, Laila eyes Jeremy, “You’re staying?” she asks, taking a small sip of her glass. Jeremy pauses the game, nodding avoiding her eyes.

She doesn’t relent, “Jeremy,”

He sighs, “I’ll have to stay for a bit,” he can all but feel the alarm in Jean’s face, “My mom went nuclear on me,”

“Oh, Jer,” says Laila, Cat leaves her glass to hug him. Jean looks like he wants to do something comforting, but doesn’t know what. He just places a hand on Jeremy’s head, scratches softly, like he was a cat. It’s weird and the best thing to ever happen to him.

“I know Zelda is fun,” Cat says, “But America’s Next Top Model is on,” she says, shooing Jean and Jeremy off the living room as she takes the bean bag and saves Jeremy’s game. Jean mutters something about Americans, but he’s always doing that, so they all ignore it. He kisses Cat goodnight on her forehead and hugs Laila. Jeremy shares a significant look with Laila, letting her know he’d tell her what his mom did, as he says bye to Cat, whose already invested on the TV.

Back in their room, an awkward silence befalls them. Although it looks like Jean wants to say something, he just stands. Jeremy has the weird thought that Jean often stands like he’s short and small, even though he’s not. It breaks his heart every single time, he wants to smooth down the edges that make him so rigid. He wants to tell him it’s okay to take space. But he feels he’ll choke on those words. He starts undoing his duffle bag, putting his clothes on the side of the closet reserved for him.

“That’s why you brought it,” Jean says, standing a little closer.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, rubbing his eyes. He’s so tired.

Jean keeps looking at his every move. And Jeremy wants to tell him to always look at him. To never take his eyes off him except for court. He bites his tongue. He doesn’t know when he became so possessive.

Once he’s done, he turns to find Jean impossibly close, Jeremy takes a step back, Jean takes a step forward. Soon enough, Jeremy is pinned against the wall, breathing shallowly.

“What can I do for you?” he asks Jeremy. It’s a dangerous thing to ask.

He gives him a small smile, “You don’t have to get involved in my mess, Jean,”

“I am your partner, your mess is my mess,” Jean says, resting a hand next to Jeremy’s head. Jeremy thinks he might pass out from this. Curse his accent. Curse his gray eyes.

“Just…” Jeremy sighs, “Stand by me?” he asks. He bites his lip. So many others have decided he’s not worth the hassle. He thinks Jean coming to the same conclusion will wreck him. And he’s a fool for asking for this. For such a delicate thing to be true.

“That’s easy,” Jean says, like it is, “Anything else?”

Jeremy sighs, feeling like a little kid, like he has the world in his hands, like everything is out of his control, like he wants to laugh maniacally, like he wants to destroy everything. He just rests his forehead on Jean’s arm, “Cuddles?” he asks.

“Of course,” Jean says, “Just change, I don’t like you in my bed with dirty clothes,”

Jeremy snorts; Jean’s bluntness always got a smile out of him. He takes his shirt and pants off, changing into an actual pijama, the weather getting colder, Jean still only sleeps in briefs, probably not getting cold at all. Jeremy wonders about the climate control of the Nest. How living there for five years must’ve affected Jean’s body. Tracing a scar with faint letters Jeremy prefers to never read, he thinks he knows part of it. He kisses Jean’s shoulder.

“So you’re not dating Amybeth?” he asks, before he can think better of it. He feels Jean jerk under him.

“ Quoi? No,” Jean says, and Jeremy’s heart does a flip, “You’re delirious, go sleep,”

He can’t help if the smile remains for the whole night.

***

Jeremy has been working at tending the garden with Jean all morning. He leaves Jean sitting beside it, appreciating his handiwork as he goes grab a drink.

Cat is there, typing away on her laptop.

He grabs a beer and as he’s about to open it with his teeth, Cat speaks.

“Don’t you dare hurt him,” she says, and by the way she keeps typing, Jeremy almost thinks he imagined it, “I’m serious, Jeremy,” she turns to look at him, “Laila told me you have yet to talk to him , but you’re aware he won’t talk, right?” he opens his mouth, but she lifts a finger up in warning, “You better take care of that big heart of his. He’s been through enough,” she says, and Jeremy kind of wants to lift her up and spin her. So happy she’s giving him the shovel talk. So happy she cares so much about Jean, “And change to a king bed,” she types again, “You’re athletes, you can’t afford a back injury,” he throws finger guns at her before opening the bottle on the counter and heading back to Jean with a glass of water for him.

Jean eyes the bottle of beer with contempt as he drinks his water. Jeremy notes his slight sunburn, and the way freckles have started to show on his skin. He resists the urge to kiss them all.

He doesn’t resist the urge to look, most of the time, they just stare at each other. Jean is wearing a tank top, so much skin is showing, and Jeremy feels his skin burning. Jean doesn’t do anything other than wipe some water off his bottom lip with his thumb, and Jeremy has to sit down.

How Cat could ever think he could hurt this man, he didn’t know.

***

Once the day is over, Jeremy finds himself once again in Jean’s bed.

“We should exchange this for a bigger bed,” he says, “Every night I spend here I don’t use mine at all,”

Jean tenses under him, he fears he’s said something wrong, then Jean relaxes, all by himself.

“We could,” he concludes. Jeremy wishes, not for the first time, they shared a body so he could access Jean’s every though. But it was good to keep this distance, “You wouldn’t mind…” he starts, trails off.

Jeremy raises an eyebrow, lifts his head to look at Jean, a distant look on his face, “Hey,” he says, not touching him anywhere anymore, “What is it?”

“What if people found out?” Jean asks, still looking away. Jeremy’s heart hurts.

Both their pasts and presents are complicated. People could talk. People could say a myriad of things. It’d be easy for Jeremy to say he doesn’t care. But he cares for what Jean feels. He cares so much he fears he’ll choke on it. And he would be lying if he said part of him didn’t want to stop being seen as someone who fucks any man that moves.

Jean isn’t any man, and much to his dismay, he isn’t fucking him.

“Well,” Jeremy says, opting for practicality, “Either they talk or I start sleeping in my bed or we get matching back injuries,” he says, putting a strand of hair behind Jean’s ear, “What do you think?”

Jean thinks, “We can put the beds together?” he suggests. And Jeremy feels like an idiot for not considering this sooner. Even slightly slaps his head in a ‘duh, obviously’ gesture.

He quickly stands up to drag the bed, causing a significant amount of noise, “Ah, shucks,”

“You speak very American,” says Jean, and Jeremy laughs.

“Born and raised,” he says, putting his hand on his head in a military greeting, then cringing at himself, throwing himself into the bed, “Ah, much better,”

Jean turns to his side, and Jeremy turns to look at him. Smiles, “Hi,”

Jean studies his face. Jeremy loves how every emotion is clear on Jean’s face most times. But thinking of how that must’ve hurt him in the Nest makes his heart hurt.

“My turn for a question: why don’t you talk about your family?” Jean says, getting closer to Jeremy but not quite touching. Breath catches in Jeremy’s throat.

“Why don’t you talk about yours?” he retorts, and he knows that’s cruel.

“They’re in France,” well, Jeremy guesses they must be in US custody by now, or something, he doesn’t really know how the Interpol operates, “I asked first,”

Jeremy sighs, running a hand over his face, “They’re… They worry, is all,” even as he says it, he knows that’s not the truth, “I used to be bad, Jean, they don’t want me falling into that life again,”

Jean’s expression is stony, “So they push you out of their home to do that?” Jean says, and Jeremy bites his bottom lip, “Cat and Laila… they wouldn’t do that to me if they worried. My parents didn’t se— sent me to the Nest because they worried,”

“Why did they?” Jeremy says, before the subject changes, before he misses the chance to get a glimpse into Jean’s story, he knows it’s a delicate thing— just like the thing blooming between them, but his head spiraled. With all of it, “Using my turn for that,”

Jean huffs, he considers for a long moment, “They… knew the m— Coach Moriyama,” he begins, Jeremy can tell he’s trying his best to word it, and he’s not foolish enough to think it’s a language thing, “I can speak Japanese, you know that,” Jeremy nods, “It had been planned, for a long time, that he’d take me, it’s why I started playing Exy in Marseille,” Jeremy doesn’t think this is a full truth, but it’s enough of a truth to matter, “They had a deal with him, to make me the best of the best, and I am,” he says, and his juvenile pride makes Jeremy want to cry, “So I held my end of the bargain, and now the deal’s done,”

Used as an asset, unable to choose for himself, “Did you ever like exy?” Jeremy asks, Jean laughs dryly.

“You’ve used your question, and I don’t feel like asking more,” he envelops Jeremy into a kiss. He shuts up promptly, focusing on holding Jean.

Words he wants to say die on his tongue at Jean’s mercy.

***

Derrick and Derek are asking Jean his opinions on how attractive he finds each Trojan upon realizing he’s bisexual and not gay, Jean refuses to indulge their questioning, but he looks normal levels of annoyance for him, so Jeremy doesn’t intervene, taping his racquet before the game tonight. It was the second to last game of the season, and they had been killing it. Jeremy was sure they’d get to spring season, and even to championships. It was because of their work as a whole team. But he’d be lying if Jean’s presence hadn’t lifted spirits all around. A success story indeed.

A success story he held every night now.

His mother had called him one or three times, telling him she really hoped he had enough clothes and that Dermott was taking care of him, as much as he tried to insist Dermott didn’t even own the building they were now staying in (she didn’t need to know the FBI was paying for it, but perhaps she knew and pretended not to), she wouldn’t drop it. It seemed clear she’d make him come back by Monday at the latest. He kept turning Jean’s words around in his head. How his parents had done that to him, how similar their situations seemed, all things considered. He thinks of the LSAT prep book in his duffle bag and how he had it scheduled two weeks from now. How hard he was trying in his French lessons. How he had told Jean a whole sentence the other day and Jean had actually paused for a moment, as if he had seen a ghost, before he told him he did good.

He only wanted to do good for Jean.

He didn’t care anymore if they never had sex, if he was cursed to a lifetime of jerking off in the shower. He just wanted every second to be spent with his backliner. With the little family they had formed. This week, he had taken Jab out for a run along Jean everyday. He could see how a girl crashed against a light post after doing a double take at Jean, and he had almost held his hand. Almost . But Jean didn't notice her. And he had never done that.

Not being constantly exhausted was a big plus of it all. But he couldn’t let himself enjoy it too much, for it wasn’t made to last.

***

Halfway through the second half, Coaches pull Jean out to put Cat in, and Jeremy sees from the Court how Jean spits out his mouth guard, and all thoughts leave his body so badly his mark body checks him so hard he gets a yellow card and Jeremy gets all the air out of his lungs. As he’s lifted up, he sees Jean with murder written over his face, holding himself back by the sheer power of his contract. A silent look his way asking if Jeremy was okay, Jeremy gives a thumbs up even though his ribs hurt and will bruise, and he tells the other backliner to ‘Have the best day!’, which makes him almost punch Jeremy in the face.

They end up winning 13-7, and Jeremy is so satisfied he doesn’t even care he won’t be able to stand up for a few days, Jean by his side to work as a crutch.

***

After meeting with his coaches and showering, he finds Jean waiting for him next to his car. Jeremy really doesn’t think he can drive it at all, and he tells Jean as much.

“We can just get a taxi or something,”

“Nonsense,” Jean tells him, grabbing his chin, “Give me your keys, I’ll drive. I came here with Catalina,”

He melts at the casual touch. At how he’s forced to look at him. He hands him his keys, “Who taught you how to drive?”

“All Ravens know how to drive,” is Jean’s initial response as he starts the car, he thinks for a moment longer, “It was Riko,”

Jeremy doesn’t comment further. Riko Moriyama is such a touchy subject with him and Kevin. Added to what Jean had said, about having a sort of deal with the family. It made him sick. Was Jean’s Riko’s pet in a way? The thought was revolting. He doesn’t let himself stay in it for too long. He just stares at Jean as he holds his middle.

“I think no cuddles tonight,” he says, lamenting himself.

“No, no cuddles until you’re okay again,”

***

On Sunday, Jeremy feels better. Bruises have set but no ribs were broken, so he should be okay for practice the next day. His family, as usual, didn’t watch the game, or read the recap, so they don’t know about his injury. His mother just calls him to tell him he needs to be back by Monday’s dinner. Important people are coming. He wants to say he doesn’t give a crap, but he instead says he’ll be there.

He hates himself.

Jean is cooking a recipe from Ananya, with some veggies straight from his garden. He’s meticulous and so focused Jeremy can’t help but snap a picture and send it to Kevin.

Kevin replies almost immediately.

Kevin

1:25 pm

That’s not the Jean I met in the nest at all. He looks great.

That he can agree with. California had given Jean some color and freckles, his moles looking beautiful now. Jeremy wanted to kiss them all. Maybe he was allowed. It was still confusing, the limits of it all.

Jeremy

1:29 pm

U should visit soon :)

Kevin and Jean’s dynamic was something he knew he’d never fully understand, but he liked having Kevin around. He wanted to show him around touristy places and visit the Hollywood sign.

Kevin

1:34 pm

Where is Jean going for Thanksgiving break?

Jeremy actually didn’t know. It wasn’t like he could fly out to France.

Jeremy

1:36 pm

He asked if 4th of July happened “every year”, I don’t feel ready to introduce him to Thanksgiving.

Kevin

1:39 pm

I can come visit you both.

Jeremy smiles, sending a thumbs up as Jean announces their food is ready.

Jeremy almost moans with how good it is, and Jean just throws a glance at him, but he can tell he’s pleased with himself.

***

“How do you know…” Jean asks, as they lay down in their beds pushed together.

“Yes?” Jeremy asks, turning his phone off.

Jean seems to battle with himself, “You’ve had sex,” he says, and Jeremy is unsure where this might head.

“I have,” Jeremy says.

“How do you know what you like?” Jean asks.

Jeremy considers. He guesses he’s always allowed other men to try stuff and just gone with it. As for things he likes, he just learned along the way.

“Guess you experiment… sometimes it’s easier in a safe environment,” not a drug filled orgy he wants to joke, but he refrains, “with someone you trust, or over text even,”

Jean blushes at Jeremy remembering that. Jeremy brushes off a smile with his thumb. Sitting up for his next question.

“What do you like?” Jeremy asks, sitting criss crossed on Jean’s bed, Jean looks lost, Jeremy does a wild hand gesture, conjuring up the past, as jealous as it makes him, “When you were texting the goalkeeper, what did she say? What helped?” if he conveniently doesn’t call her by her name, that’s his business.

Jean is silent for a long moment, and Jeremy is about to say they can forget about it, start over or not at all; but he finally speaks.

“She was…” he looks very interested in the way the sunlight hits the bedsheets, “We talked a lot about kissing, and undressing, and just touching each other. It was… nice,” he looks positively mortified.

“That’s not very specific,” Jeremy says, Jean throws him a death glare, Jeremy gives him a toothy smile.

“I’ll throw your Britney Spears CDs away,”

“No, you won’t,” Jeremy says, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“No, but I’ll think about it,” Jean says, kissing his mouth once. Jeremy can’t help smiling. He wants to name this. He wants to be the only one who can touch Jean ever. He wants him to lose Walker’s number. He wants to wear his clothes and have everyone know he’s his. But he can’t have any of that. That’s a pipe dream. He’s once again being selfish. What about what Jean wants?

“What do you want?” Jeremy asks him, their faces so close their noses are almost touching. Jeremy tries for his face to look vulnerable. He doesn’t know if he’s succeeding.

Jean looks down to his lips. If he tells him he only wants him for making out, he’ll back away, fuck his feelings away with some stranger and clean up so Jean doesn’t have to smell it. If Jean wants to have sex, he’ll give it to him, even if he knows it’ll never be casual for him.

Anything Jean wants.

“It’s…” he makes a hand gesture on the air, as if willing the words to come, “I don’t know the word in English— it’s weird to have a choice. I’ve never been given one,” he says, and Jeremy has to swallow down how sick this makes him, specially considering his thoughts. He was a sick individual, “With Renee—it felt like a dream, like she was one of Riko’s cruel tricks, but no one that wonderful could come from someone so vile, it made me believe angels existed,” the way he says angels makes Jeremy want to drop to his knees. He makes a mental note to Google if accents can be aphrodisiacs. Probably not. He was probably just sick and twisted, “Most days I can’t believe you’re real,” it’s the ghost of words, said so low Jeremy might as well have imagined them.

He studies Jean’s face. The number by his cheekbone. There’s so much he wants to ask. He bites his tongue, “You will always have a choice with me,” he says, showing his hands and looking at Jean fiercely.

“I know, it’s what makes you infuriating,” Jean rolls his eyes but throws Jeremy into a kiss.

“Careful, I’m still hurt,” Jeremy says dramatically, but Jean pokes him in the ribs, “No you’re not,” he says into his lips.

Jeremy can feel a shift. The kissing is more intense than other times. Hungrier even. He puts a hand over Jean’s chest, “What do you want?” he asks. Opening a door. Closing it. Both. Neither.

Jean blinks a couple of times, “I don’t know, I was hoping you’d lead,”

Jeremy frowns, smooths Jean’s expression, “It’s up to you,” he says.

Jean seems to be going through every stage of grief, and Jeremy isn’t sure how he should feel.

“Maybe not today,” he concludes, Jeremy’s stomach hurts. Did he even want him? Was he rejecting ever having him?

“I could blow you,” Jeremy offers, and Jean’s look is so revolted Jeremy has to scoot back to his bed, “Sorry,”

“It’s okay, I just…” Jean says, his look far away, and Jeremy knows he’s messed up. Once again.

Jeremy wants to run. Wants to take back the last few minutes. He knew this was fragile. He knew he’d mess up. Jean doesn’t want him like that. He’s made it clear now. He’s ruined what he’s worked so hard for and he’s a terrible person now.

He can’t cry himself to sleep so close to Jean, so he just wraps himself in the blankets, feeling Jean disappointment in the back of his head all night, never daring to look back.

Chapter Text

Jeremy was seriously considering actually taking his SSRIs, if anything, because his stomach wasn’t doing him any favors on how awful he felt next to Jean anytime they saw each other, which was plenty. He put on his easiest smile while Jean inspected him, and he let Jean silently inspect his face, grabbing his chin. It was a comforting touch, remembering Jean didn’t hate him, didn’t find him disgusting.

Thanksgiving break was upon them, and most of the Trojans were heading to different states. The only ones seemingly staying were Lucas, Jean, and Jeremy.

Kevin had confirmed he would spend Thanksgiving with him and Jean, bringing Andrew and Neil along, even with their injuries. Jean, other than knowing a small break was happening (which he vocally disagreed with), didn’t seem to be up to date on what Thanksgiving consisted of. Jeremy gave said task to Cat, since a holiday centered around food would be a huge stressor for Jean; she had helped Jean make a meal plan with the food the Wilshires would offer and Jeremy had talked to William to make sure to help Jean with his macronutrients, as to not make him panic mid dinner.

Talking his mother into allowing his friends to come into his house for Thanksgiving hadn’t been easy, especially considering Jean and Bryson, but upon a very media-trained call from Kevin, she had accepted to let him host a dinner the day before Thanksgiving, when it could just be Jeremy’s family and four extra exy players. It seemed like a perfect recipe for disaster, especially with two people connected to criminal families, but Kevin convinced Mathilda that taking strays in for a get together demonstrated good will of the family and an excellent relationship with Jeremy.

Jeremy kind of wanted to kiss Kevin over how good he was at this.

He drove Cat and Laila to the airport with Jean in the back seat with Cat, so they could go spend the holidays with Cat’s family.

Laila hugs Jeremy for a long while, “We expect updates on that dinner every 10 minutes,” she says, Jean groans as Cat goes “Please!” in the back, Jeremy just laughs.

“Strict no-phone policy at the table, guys,” he says, opening the door to help them out with their bags, “I wish you could be there,”

“I don’t trust myself face-to-face with your mother,” Cat says, Laila snickers.

“Fair enough,” he points to Jean, “His strategy is to pretend he can’t speak much English,” Jean rolls his eyes, but he’s fidgeting with Laila’s handbag, so she grabs it.

“Well, we expect a full summary on what happens,” Laila says, “And if you body slam Bryson again, I expect a video from several angles,”

“Don’t encourage him,” Jeremy chastises her, but he’s smiling. He does wish he had seen how Jean threw his brother to Laila’s windshield, especially with the way Laila talked about it from time to time.

“You should be more worried about the feral gremlin that will be in Jeremy’s table,” says Jean, and Jeremy is unsure if he’s referring to Andrew Minyard or Neil Josten. From what he had seen from Minyard, he actually appeared rather mellow when he wasn’t being fiercely protective. He couldn’t say the same about Josten, with his serial killer smile and FBI shenanigans.

He couldn’t lie about how nervous he was, but he made sure to check with William about having enough vodka for Kevin to enjoy and Andrew couldn’t choke anyone with only one arm, he would think. And perhaps Neil’s broken ribs had made him more agreeable.

He highly doubted it, especially considering how often he seemed to call Jean.

They remain in the airport as they wait for Kevin, Neil, and Andrew to arrive. Choosing to remain in the car, Jeremy starts pronouncing words in French for Jean to patiently correct. It almost makes Jeremy’s anxiety from the past week dissipate. They hadn’t kissed or hugged since that night, and he kind of thought he had ruined everything. He wanted to scream about it, but Jean still looked at him like he could never do any wrong, so maybe not all was lost. Maybe he was too in his head. Maybe Jean wouldn’t be like the rest.

It remained to be seen, Thanksgiving could make it or break it. He wanted his family to like Jean; someone who was so full of love and whose hobbies included caring for a garden and going on runs with Jab.

Well, perhaps it was impossible, since Bryson had already painted him as a beast. But Jean had been able to undo years of journalists calling him a slut, so perhaps he could turn it around. Jeremy believed he could.

Maybe Jeremy could also turn their view on him around, under Kevin’s praise, it all seemed possible.

Right. Redemption. Since his family cares so much about exy.

He smokes a clove cigarette, losing three in the process by Jean throwing them away. He liked how close his big frame was to him as he took them from his fingers.

“I know Ravens don’t date, but Trojans do,” he starts, looking at his palms, “Would you be interested in… doing that?” Jeremy asks. Because he’s foolish. Because Jean doesn’t hate him.

Jean thinks for a moment, “I’d… It’d be nice,” he says, an almost shy response. Jeremy has to cover his big grin. He’s so obvious, he’s surprised Jean hadn’t commented on it at all. He wouldn’t push him to.

There’s no way he hasn’t noticed he has Jeremy’s heart between his big hands. He thinks of that George Michael song about Christmas. Crap, Jean doesn’t know much of American Christmas. Jeremy is going to be so annoying come December, showing him all the movies and songs and traditions. He was going to induce him into gingerbread houses and light displays that make electricity bills skyrocket.

He expresses these wishes of Christmas to him, and Jean frowns, “Can we focus on surviving one holiday first?” Jeremy asks him to repeat the word holiday, Jean just stares at him.

“You’re right,” Jeremy says, his hands in his pockets, “I just love Christmas. We don’t get snow but… it’s still so cozy,” he smiles, “How was Christmas in France?”

Jean huffs, and Jeremy can imagine baby Jean making snowmen with Elodie. Being a child. A child forced to see the horrors of the world.

It always depressed him too much, to think of Jean’s past. Why he preferred focusing on the present.

“It was cold, just like my parents,” Jean states, “But Elodie really liked it, she was very religious— wanted to be a nun,” he has a small smile, “She was so weird, she’d have liked you,”

Jeremy’s breath catches. Such a tender thing to say. To hold. A fair exchange for his heart, it seemed.

He smiles, “I’m sure I’d have liked her too,” he says, melancholic. Most days he misses Noah, but he can’t remember the tone of his voice anymore and he wouldn’t be able to tell that to anyone; he just got so quiet the last few years. So within himself. He wonders if Jean can remember Elodie’s voice or if she lives as a silent blur in his memory.

“You would’ve,” Jean says, his chin raised high as he closes his eyes, “She was an angel,” he says, sighing loudly, “I think they’re about to arrive,”

Jean is right, they wordlessly go to the terminal, both carrying their collective grief. And it’s comfortable and it’s painful and Jeremy wonders if Jean can feel it too, how kindred their spirits are. How awful to share such tragedy, how wonderful to not be alone in it.

They first spot them by matching armbands in short bodies; Jeremy is always shocked by seeing Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten next to Kevin Day. It seems funny to him how they look like his way shorter bodyguards, even with Andrew’s arm on a sling, and how much Kevin seems to depend on the goalkeeper to remember how to be a human being; the Nest will do that to you.

Andrew Minyard gives him a bored look, then looks at Jean as he says “Huh,” and keeps walking.

“Knox,” comes Josten’s greeting, versus a “Jean,” that carries what to an outsider would sound like years of history, but Jeremy knows it’s only a few months, no matter what Jean claims. Jean throws him an icy look.

“The FBI should keep you in permanent custody,” he scowls.

“Now, that’d be no fun,” Neil smiles, and Jeremy has to look away, thankfully, Kevin is there to catch him.

“Is your father sad you won’t spend your first Thanksgiving together?” he asks as he hugs him.

“He sees me all the time,” Kevin replies, “A break is welcome,” Andrew is quickly by his side when he looks for him, and soon enough the five of them are walking to Jeremy’s car.

Jeremy didn’t catch how Jean and Kevin looked at each other. They had a secret way of communicating too private for anyone else, but Jean often avoided him. He hadn’t forgiven him and maybe could never forgive him. Jeremy is unsure how he’d feel in Jean’s situation; most days he wanted to break Kevin Day’s beautiful face over it, others he understood Kevin to a molecular level. Knowing the truth was the dangerous part of this.

Jeremy opens his trunk to dump all the bags. He notes Neil Josten carries a similar duffle to the one Jean arrived with. He almost comments on it, but by the look on Jean’s face, he’s also made the connection. He wonders what it’s like to come from families involved in such things.

Well, his father is in the US military, so maybe he knows something about it.

Kevin and Jean have one of their silent arguments before Kevin is relented to the backseat with his guard dogs. Jean looks triumphant as he slides on the front.

“Welp,” Jeremy asks, “Where to?” he asks, as if they don’t have to go to the Lofts to settle in.

“Next exit out of California,” Andrew says.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not so bad here,” he says, looking at Jean for back up. He gets none, “Heck, I like it,”

Neil looks like he’s considering the risks of jumping from a moving vehicle.

“So, Jean,” Neil asks, and Jeremy hears Jean whisper something in French that sounds positively rude, “How’s the sunshine court treating you?”

“You’ve watched the games,” Jean says, using the rear view mirror to cross quick eye contact with Kevin, “Playing without the need for violence has improved my technique,”

“I could’ve told you that,” Neil says, rolling his eyes, “I mean… Do you like your team?”

“They’re excellent players, most will get recruited,” Jeremy doesn’t miss his heavy look on him.

“Neil means as people,” Andrew says, and if Jeremy wasn’t driving, he’d catch him pointing at him with his eyes.

“They’re sunshine people,” Jean says, Jeremy smiles widely. That’s a good summary. “Happy, nothing like you foxes,”

“Renee is happy,” Neil points out.

“She’s a blade,” Jean says, and suddenly Jeremy is very concerned. Jean doesn’t elaborate but Neil seems to have understood.

The rest of the ride to the Lofts is filled with Jeremy talking about Los Angeles, everyone in the car, save Andrew, wildly interested.

Once they get there, they get arrangements out of the way; Neil and Andrew will share Cat and Laila’s bed, which didn’t amuse Andrew at all even as Neil pokes him. Kevin will use Jeremy’s bed, and Jeremy will most likely be forced to sleep at home everyday. Or on Jean’s bed with him. Or on the floor.

Kevin looks amused at the beds being so close, but says nothing. Just looked at Jean, who rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

Jeremy will never understand the secret language they could speak, and perhaps it was for the better.

“Well, dinner is at 6, so just get comfortable in the meantime,” he says, Neil and Andrew disappear to Cat and Laila’s room and Jeremy briefly wonders how they’d feel to know another couple had sex in their bed. Probably thrilled once they knew who it was. Cat was obsessed with internet forums discussing Neil Josten. Jeremy didn’t get it. He seemed all bark, no bite.

He starts a pot of coffee while Jean and Kevin talk.

“Isn’t it creepy that this is paid by the FBI?” Jeremy jumps a little at Kevin’s voice, but thankfully doesn’t burn himself.

“You have Neil Josten in your team, FBI involvement must be a dime a dozen,” he says, smiling, looking around the cupboard to offer Kevin some alcohol— mezcal Cat’s parents gave her.

Kevin makes a face, “No— Saving myself for dinner,” he says, a smile, “Hope you know Neil isn’t gonna stay quiet during it,”

“I count on that,” Jeremy says. This was a dangerous game he was playing. What was his end goal, even? Showing he could be worse? Showing the life he wanted, maybe. A life dedicated to Exy. Who better than the son of exy to show it? Who better than a rising phoenix to show it was possible? Success stories all around. Maybe he could be one, too.

Kevin shrugs, “It’s your family,” he takes out a beer from the fridge but Jean takes it off his hands before he can open it.

“You should care more for your condition,” he says, and he’s wearing the shirt that’s too tight on him and Jeremy’s throat goes dry. Why had he changed? Jeremy starts pouring coffee on mugs for everyone.

He hands the mug to Jean, focusing on his hand. Their fingers brush. Jeremy almost drops the mug.

He doesn’t know for how long they can not talk about it, but Kevin looks between them like he has remembered something from long ago. Opens the beer with the edge of the granite counter and starts drinking it, much to Jean’s dismay. Jeremy lets the scalding coffee hit his throat.

Soon after, Neil and Andrew come out of their room. Neil throws a look at Jeremy, then at Jean, Jean shakes his head and Neil visibly relaxes. Jeremy wonders how much nonverbal communication is on the horizon for the weekend.

He decides to give up on trying to understand, there’s clearly something he’s missing. Instead, he hands Kevin a present, “Here,” he says, a shy yet sly smile, “For convincing my mother to let some fun into her home,” he says, and Kevin looks at Jean, whose face is blank. He didn’t know any of this.

Kevin unwraps the paper, and smiles. It’s a little mug, hardly big enough for anything other than a shot or an espresso, but it’s decorated with a “2”, a queen chess piece, and Jeremy’s best attempt at a little sword, honoring the time Kevin had dumped on him information about different ways different wars had been fought through history. It had been 2 years ago, yet Jeremy held the memory close in his heart.

“When did you have the time to glaze that?” Jean questions him, but it’s clear he’s admiring Kevin’s admiration. Jeremy shrugs, smiling to himself.

“I know my way around,” he says, but the truth was he had had some help.

Jean eyes him suspiciously but drops it, choosing to admire Kevin instead. It was easy, perhaps falling into old habits.

Jeremy sees the way Jean looks at Kevin when he’s not looking back. He knows he was his only friend in the Nest. He also knows Kevin left without him.

Those two realities fit perfectly with who Kevin is, and with who Jean is becoming.

He thinks this over before announcing he’s taking them all on a tour. The groans are music to his ears.

***

Jean had gotten himself some new fridge magnets at every landmark they paraded through. The way he carefully selected them, picking them with delicate fingers as if he wasn’t one of the buffest people Jeremy had seen had him mesmerized, and more than once he had gotten an elbow on the ribs from one of the foxes. At their last stop of the day at Amoeba Records, Kevin approaches him as he’s looking at Jean looking at the postcards.

“Are you two always longingly staring when the other isn’t watching?” he asks, looking over at the old CDs, “You’re worse than Andrew and Neil,”

This catches his attention, “I doubt that,” his mouth quirks up in a smile, “He’s just important to me,” is omission the same as lying? Is diluting the truth lying at all?

“Right,” Kevin says, studying Jeremy before shaking his head, “Loverboy got his card, let’s go,”

In the car ride back to the Lofts, Kevin, Neil, and Jean get into an argument in French. Andrew just closes his eyes, Jeremy frowns as he tries to figure out some words. He’s not very lucky at it, given the speed of their tongues and mixed accents. All he can tell is Jean is using a lot of curse words. It’s nice to know these little quirks about him in his native language. Jeremy had read somewhere people tend to have different personalities according to the language they were communicating in; not like they behaved like different people, rather just a difference on how they came across; more excited, more confident, or vice versa, fitting into the mold they were given when learning the language, perhaps. He was excited to get to know Jean in French, in the language he dreams in. He smiles thinking about it.

The argument is short lived. It ends with Jean losing to Kevin and Neil, Jeremy thinks, since he’s mopping now.

“Hey,” Jeremy prompts, Jean looks at him, “I got something for you, on the glove box,”

Jean raises an eyebrow, but he opens the glove box as Jeremy makes a turn. He immediately finds the present and doesn’t grab it for a long while, just stares at it, still in the glove box.

“Jeez, Frenchie, what is it?” Andrew says in a bored tone, “I’m dying to know,”

Jean scoffs, but just as carefully as he held the magnets, he holds the tie, patterned with little yellow ducks.

“Where did you get this?” Jean asks, carefully passing his thumb through the embroidered ducks.

“Thrift store,” Jeremy says. He feels the eyes boring at him, the same way the Floozies had reacted when he, famously rich, had said he visited thrift stores. He didn’t like explaining, it was just that the spending was so insignificant there he didn’t have to report it to his mother.

Jean is still looking at it, admiring it like he did every single gift he got, “Thank you Jeremy,”

Neil chokes on air as Andrew and Kevin both slap his stomach with such casual violence to shut him up from whatever he was about to say, and Jeremy feels just as breathless whenever he hears his name from Jean. He surely knows.

Oh, how Jeremy is doomed to a life of suffering.

“For you, anything,”

He knows Jean would grab his chin if he wasn’t driving.

***

The Wilshires were particular about the way Thanksgiving is to be celebrated. But today wasn’t technically Thanksgiving, just the day before, so Kevin only made a bitchy comment about Jean using the blue tie Jeremy got him today before shutting up when Jeremy gave him a look (a tieless Andrew laughed on the background, while Neil, wearing a black turtleneck and making no effort to cover the scars on his face just looked at them curiously). Jeremy is finishing tying Jean’s tie when the taller man grabs his chin, sending shivers down his spine, “You can say the phrase at any point and we’ll get out of there,” he says. His stormy eyes on him. This was better than any drug Jeremy has taken. He resists the urge to push him into the wall and kiss him only because they have guests. He nods.

“Say ‘Yes, Jean’,”

He rolls his eyes, a smile on his face, “You’re not the captain, that doesn’t work,”

“Say it or I’ll tell Jab not to let you pet him,”

“You won’t,”

“No, but I’ll think about it,” Jean is still holding his chin, and there’s nothing Jeremy wants more than to turn into putty under his touch. He still has a dinner to get through, though.

“Yes, Jean,” Jeremy says, and despite himself, he gets closer. Jean’s hand moves to the back of his neck, scratching the short hair there. Jeremy has to use all his willpower not to moan. Jean joins their foreheads.

“You and I against the world, right?”

“Always,” Jeremy smiles, and they leave their room together, receiving a curious look from Kevin, which he promptly ignores.

***

Jeremy really wishes his step father wasn’t at the dinner at all; this was about Jeremy’s family, and he had never considered his step father to be his family at all.

Besides, with four (five, in Jeremy’s opinion) queer men in his house, he might begin to boil up to the point of evaporation.

Well, that wouldn’t be so bad.

Once the initial niceties, greetings, and introductions are done with, they head to the dining table. It isn’t set up as fancily as it is during the actual Thanksgiving dinner, which Jeremy is grateful for.

Jeremy sits next to Bryson, in front of Annalise, who's wearing a beautiful dress Jean definitely noticed. He sits next to Jeremy, facing Joshua, who Jeremy knows won’t acknowledge him all dinner long, ignoring him like he always does. Neil beats Kevin to the seat next to Jean, and there’s definitely something Jeremy is missing as he sees Andrew grab Kevin’s arm to sit him down at the head of the table opposite to Jeremy’s stepfather, he swears he hears Andrew calling Kevin a queen.

Jeremy is glad he’s the body between Bryson and Jean, so his brother can’t throw any dirty looks at his teammate. He fidgets with his necklace under his dress shirt, he can feel his step father eyeing and judging his friends. Kevin’s smile makes up for the lack of everyone else’s.

“Lovely home, Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire,” they thank him with straight white teeth smiles, he takes the cloth napkin into his lap, Jean follows suit, Neil and Andrew pointedly don’t. Neil is really growing on Jeremy.

“So,” Bryson starts, Jean tenses up, Jeremy puts a hand on his back, hiding how nervous he is too, “Minyard, I hear you’re a foster kid,”

“Were,” Neil cuts, smiling, Bryson flinches.

“I also hear you’re a twin,” Mathilda adds, trying to cover how rude her son can be. She calls for more wine.

Andrew doesn’t reply, so Kevin does, “Yes, Aaron, Andrew’s twin brother, is one of our backliners,”

“What position was that? I forget,” it’s the first time Annalise has shown any interest in exy ever since Jeremy’s scandal, and he’s sure she’d remember such a basic thing. He bites the inside of his cheek, wanting to kick her under the table, but cutting his turkey instead, too aggressively, if Jean’s hand on his thigh is any indication.

“Defense,” Kevin replies, and by the flutter of her eyelashes, Jeremy understands what’s going on. Her sister hasn’t regained her interest on his passion, just on Kevin; little does Annalise know, they’re one of the same, “It’s also Jean’s position, he’s the best in D1 exy,”

Mathilda hums, “According to who?”

“Exy Rules and Regulations Committee,” Neil replies, his creepie smile back on, “Can you pass me the cranberry sauce, Joshua?”

Jeremy notes Andrew’s jaw is clenched. Remembers Cat mentioning his assault happened during a Thanksgiving dinner with his uncles. He wants to earnestly thank him for being here for Kevin, but he doubts he’ll appreciate it. He stuffs his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything at all.

“So that’s why Jeremy got him,” Bryson says, and Jeremy hears the underlying implication left unsaid, “Not his– charming personality?” at this, Kevin’s jaw tenses up. Jean’s face remains neutral.

“Yes, Bryson, I signed him because he’s the best,” Jeremy says, smiling at every member of his family, especially his mom, knowing what they’re all thinking. Knowing they’re right on their assertion of his attraction towards Jean, but not giving them the satisfaction of confirming nor denying anything more than he already has, “This is fun, the most we’ve ever talked about exy,”

“What positions do the short ones play?” Joshua asks Jean, Jeremy almost chokes on the bite of mashed potatoes he got.

“I’m a striker,” Neil replies, choosing to ignore how awfully rude it is to ask questions about him when he’s right there , “Andrew is a goalkeeper, the best, too,” he adds, as if daring anyone to contest that.

Jeremy takes the bait, “I’d say he’s head to head with Layla,”

“Oh! You should’ve invited Layla,” his mother says, delighted, Jeremy knows why. He senses Jean throwing a dirty look towards Bryson, but he can blame it on being French– cultural differences, Cat always says, “She’s such a nice girl, would be so good for Jeremy, don’t you agree?” she directs her question at Jean, of all people.

Andrew’s eyes grow wide, eyeing Jeremy, and the striker knows the goalie has him clocked. Neil hides behind his food so as to not laugh, and Kevin hits the bottom of his glass of vodka, calling a server to get him more.

“She’s with Catalina,” Jean speaks for the first time since entering the house, and Jeremy notes how he’s playing his accent up. He wants to laugh, he doesn’t.

Mathilda blinks like it’s the first time she’s heard that name, or of the concept of lesbians.

“Can we not bring up such… relationships? Please, I’m trying to eat here,” the words of his step father make Jeremy’s stomach drop. He stares at his food as his cheeks burn up, Jean says something he assumes is extremely rude in French ( English, please Joshua and his mother both say), based on Neil and Kevin’s reactions, it definitely wasn’t something nice at all. Andrew grabs his dull knife as if determining how much damage he could cause if he threw it at Mr. Wilshire’s carotid artery, Kevin eyes him wearily, Neil nods his head in a way that makes Andrew drop it, as if he just got bored of his considering a murder.

“You can speak French?” Annalise asks Kevin and, at least Jeremy hopes, Neil.

“Jean taught me,” Kevin says, and it’s Jean’s turn to blush, “We were teammates at Edgar Allan, I wanted to understand him when no one else could, and now it’s just useful,” he eyes Neil, who shrugs. Jeremy knows the next question Annalise wants to ask is if that’s the same reason Jeremy is learning, but Bryson beats her to speaking.

“Were you also at Edgar Allan, uh, Niall?” he points to his own cheekbone with his knife. Jeremy hates him, maybe.

“Neil,” he corrects, another smile, he should really not flash that around, it’s unnerving, “No, up until recently I was on the run from my mafia hitman father, I’m sure you’ve read on it,” he points with his scarred fingers to his burnt scarred skin by his cheekbone where a 4 used to be. Jean and Kevin both instinctively reach for their own tattoos, thinking of the pain, of the partnership that joins them three and which Jeremy doesn’t and can’t understand.

Everyone is silent for a while, which pleases Neil and Jeremy both.

“Wait, yeah, I did,” Bryson says, like the asshole he is, “What’s up with the tattoos, anyway? Are they a cult thing? What’s happening? C’mon, we were all thinking it,” he says, when Annalise signals him to knock it off.

“Don’t be rude,” Jeremy vocalizes, smiling, Bryson pretends not to hear.

Kevin shrugs, “It was meant to signify we were the best, Perfect Court, now it means endurance,” Jeremy can basically feel Annalise eating him with her eyes, until Andrew catches her eyes and she sees a warning there to stay away. Jeremy then understands why Kevin brings him everywhere, aside from the partner system Ravens grew on.

“So why doesn’t Jeremy have one?” Joshua asks, and Jeremy wishes he’d at least look at him as he cut his throat.

“He’s perfect the way he is, he doesn’t need a mark to prove it,” Kevin does a dismissive hand gesture, not missing a beat with his words. Jeremy can’t help but blush.

Bryson laughs, “Jeez, where did this sport even come from? Why not just play lacrosse?” Jeremy freezes up, as does Jean.

Kevin offers a killer smile, “My mother invented it, some 30 years ago, now it’s on the Olympics, I’m sure you’re aware, as Jeremy started playing it after seeing it on the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, he was obsessed with it from then on, you should read his profile, you could learn a lot about him,” he takes a bite off his turkey, and Bryson promptly shuts up.

Mathilda moves the conversation to be about Kevin, who she seems to actually like. How it was to grow up in the spotlight, to learn Japanese ( Jean also speaks Japanese , he points out, which all Wilshires ignore, but Neil and Jeremy nod), his plans for the future, if exy players really earn that much, which seems to unnerve Jean, Neil, and Kevin, which Jeremy puts a pin on for later, why he’s studying history, etc. Kevin is the grail of humbleness. The kind of son every parent wishes they had, even if he’s not a lawyer; they care for his opinion.

Before he knows it, and with less casualties than expected, desert arrives, and with that, so does Queen Day.

“You shouldn’t stop Jeremy from going pro for something like law school, Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire. He’s a brilliant player and an excellent captain, he’ll win Championships this year, and he’ll be Court,” his green eyes are intense, “You should be proud of him,”

He notes his stepfather biting the inside of his cheek, all his siblings, even Joshua, look at Jeremy, but nobody speaks. Until the matriarch does.

“Kevin, I don’t mean to be rude, but Jeremy… That’s not what he’s meant to do. The sport scholarship is nice and all, but Wilshires do law school,” I’m not a Wilshire Jeremy would say any other day, “I’m sure your mother’s sport wouldn’t want someone with his… history and scandals to represent the US in the Olympics,”

At the mention of his mother, a fire ignites within Kevin, “Scandal, singular,” Kevin corrects, then points to Jean and Neil, “Jean and Neil are to appear in court as key witnesses for a federal case involving their families,” points at Andrew, who just looks bored, “And he’s been in juvie. And I want them all to be Court with me. That’s the thing about exy— it forgives and it welcomes, and the Trojans, the team your son captains, are a prime example of that. Not a single red card– hell, not a single yellow card , for a sport that has the aggression of hockey, do you even fathom how impressive that is? They’re the current holders of the Kayleigh Day award, honoring sportsmanship. Your son led a huge team there, and if you’re not proud of that, well, I am, and I know the entire exy community is, too,”

Not a single plate moves, Jeremy feels like he’s about to cry. It’s not the first time Kevin sings his praises, but to do so in front of his family means the world. Jean taps his thigh, but he couldn’t say the phrase even if he tried.

Neil Josten breaks the icy silence by reaching for some pumpkin pie. Nobody acknowledges Kevin’s words, but Jeremy knows he didn’t say what he did to open a discussion, he did it to stand up for Jeremy, who has never been able to do so for himself, not to his family, not to his partners.

***

“Mr. Moreau,” William calls with perfect pronunciation as they’re all heading towards Jeremy’s car, Jeremy rises his eyebrow, but Jean doesn’t move, “Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire would like a word,”

Jeremy feels bile rise on his throat. He doesn’t want them near him. He promised to take care of him, he turns to look at Kevin, but he doesn’t look worried, he nods at Jeremy, as if telling him to let him go. Jeremy doesn’t want that, he wants to grab Jean and leave to their house, where his parents can’t touch him, can’t look at him, can’t hurt him. But Jean just looks at Jeremy as if to assure him he can take care for himself before heading to the living room. Jeremy gets to the driver seat as Kevin closes the door of the backseat. Jeremy rests his forehead on the steering wheel.

“Where’s Jean?” Neil’s tone is accusatory, and Jeremy likes him more for it, he sighs.

“My mother and stepfather called for him,” he says, and he trusts Jean will be okay, he just doesn’t know if he’ll be. He’s gone through this plenty of times before.

“Why?” Andrew asks, his first word all evening.

“They probably caught me,” he says with a dry, humorless laugh, an admission for once, and he now knows he was lying before, to Kevin, to himself, maybe even to Jean. Lots of reasons to hate himself, “They’ll offer him money, maybe a car, hell, maybe a flight back to France, so he stops hanging around me,” Kevin scoffs, “Others have taken it,” fricking Leo. He considers egging the car. Who is he kidding, he’d chicken out. Chicken. Eggs. Heh. He should tell this one to Jean, so he rolls his eyes and tells him how ridiculous English is. If he doesn’t take the deal, that is.

“He won’t take it,” Andrew says, waving his good arm, as if he knew every facet of Jean. Jeremy knows him, but he also thought he knew Leo. He sighs, reaching for a clove cigarette, Andrew swiftly pushes himself out of the backseat, impressive considering his injury, and throws it out of the window, “Trust me,”

Jeremy just looks at him, unable to understand the short goalkeeper, but he nods.

Ten more minutes pass before Jean comes out, looking worse for wear, his expression a mix between furious and sick, running his fingers through the little ducks, he gets on the passenger seat and closes the door gently, “Let’s leave,”

Jeremy doesn’t need to be told twice.

Chapter Text

As soon as the door to their apartment closes and Jeremy makes sure to lock it for Jean’s comfort, he finds himself pushed against the wall, Jean’s forearm keeping him pinned.

Neil takes a tentative step forward, Kevin stays frozen. Andrew snaps a picture with his flip phone? Regardless, Jeremy isn’t scared. Jean would never hurt him.

“Leave,” Jean says, and Neil and Kevin look at each other and around them, like the jerks they are, “Go to your room,” Andrew obeys, already texting someone, Neil follows suit, Kevin looks between the two Trojans, “Go with them,” Jean says in French, and Jeremy smiles to himself as he understands him, “This is between me and Jeremy,”

Kevin nods, not before throwing Jeremy one last look and closing the door behind him.

Once they’re alone, Jabberwocky not counting as he eyes them curiously but decides his bed is way more comfortable and interesting, Jean looks at him intently. Jeremy holds eye contact with him.

“This has happened before,” Jean says, and Jeremy doesn’t need any further explanation. He nods, “ Putain ,” Jean says, letting Jeremy go, but neither of them moves for a moment, before Jean has his hand on Jeremy’s chin, “Has any of them taken… it?” he asks, strong disgust dripping on his voice.

“All of them,” Jeremy says, a sad smile. Jean could’ve taken the deal. He knows better than to trust otherwise. He just doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it if he did.

Jean looks like he wants to spit at someone, and Jeremy thinks the French have really perfected the facial expression for disgust. He doesn’t even think his face can move that way.

“Who would…” Jean interrupts himself to sigh, rub the bridge of his nose, “Names,”

Jeremy shakes his head, “They’re no one, Jean,”

“They were someone to you once,” Jean says, and he hates how right he is, “What did they get?”

“Cars, money,” he shrugs. He knows Jean wouldn’t say yes to either, but he needs to know, “What did they offer?” he rests his body on the wall, trying to keep off Jean’s personal space just in case.

“Fools,” Jean says, grabbing Jeremy’s chin, “Let’s go to our room,” he says.

Our room . Jeremy feels as fuzzy as Jean usually makes him feel.

Once they’re inside, Jean is undoing his tie, Jeremy follows suit. He assumes his mother would want him sleeping at home. But he doesn’t think he can face them after this.

Whatever this is.

Once they’ve changed into sleeping clothes, Jean is back to studying him. Intoxicating, always.

“What did they offer?” he asks again, his hands on his necklace. Joining two shells as if two choke himself a little. Jean holds his wrists so he stops. Jeremy looks at him. Storms for eyes.

He seems hesitant. Like he wants to never have this conversation. But Jeremy needs to know. Aches for it. If Jean gave him up, he needs to know what the price was.

Jean sits on his bed, Jeremy follows suit sitting next to him. Jean remains quiet for so long Jeremy is about to walk out. Maybe his mother herself would tell him.

As he’s about to walk out, Jean speaks, “They… mentioned Elodie,”

Jeremy’s blood freezes. He feels sick. He closes his eyes.

“They told me they knew of her, asked whether I knew she was dead, I said nothing. It was cruel,” he looks at his hands. Jeremy wants to hug him, to apologize for bringing him to them. He was supposed to protect him, “They offered information, on what happened, I almost spit on them,” a small smile forms on his lips. Jeremy knows there’s more, “Then they said… they could help my parents, give them a lighter sentence, help me see them,” he laughs, “Funny, how much they seem to value family, now. I told them off in French,” Jeremy almost laughs, able to imagine an angry Jean with nothing to lose calling out hypocrites.

“And then?” they wouldn’t give up so easily. They cared a lot what people thought. What they could offer people. Utter displays of wealth.

“Money, a house, a car ,” he rolls his eyes. Jeremy thinks back of how proud he was of his bike, “I almost spit on them, none of that compares to you,”

Jeremy’s breath catches, “You said no,” he says. First one to do so. He wants to scream. Wants to choke himself.

“Their final offer was a clean slate, back in France,” he rolls his eyes, “I couldn’t, even if I wanted. They need me for the trial, and my home is here, Los Angeles,” the way he says it is just delicious, and Jeremy kisses him, forgetting himself, air not back in his lungs. Once clarity is back to him, he pulls back. Embarrassed for himself, but Jean holds his chin, making him unable to look away. “None of that matters to me,” Jean kisses him back now with a small peck, “You matter to me,”

Jeremy smiles, crumbling on himself. Jean had told him over and over he’d choose him. But actions speak louder than words. He can’t tell he’s not breathing until Jean hits his back, a huge gasp escaping him. He falls forwards. Exhausted. Defeated. Heartbroken.

Jean catches him.

“Jeremy?” he sounds concerned. Jeremy can’t find his words. Can’t find anything. Can only feel.

He only comes back to himself once he wakes up in Jean's arms, holding him tight.

***

The next few days are a bit of a blur for him. He knows he takes their guests around a tour through Los Angeles, including their stadium for Exy, which Neil and Kevin were bouncing off about. He knows Jean is holding him in public during a lot of it, throwing killing looks at anyone who stared (he’s so European Jeremy fears he’s developed a Pavlovian response to French accents and sunglasses), he knows he somehow earned Andrew’s approval, who interrogates him for a bit when Kevin, Neil, and Jean argue in French. And he knows he’s driven to the airport, but he only feels truly back on his skin when Jean turns to him on the passenger seat and asks him:

“What do you want?”

“A nap,” he says, almost automatically.

Jean continues staring, “No, deeper,”

He really doesn’t feel prepared for anything like that at the moment, “A cigarette,”

He can almost hear Jean hissing, “Again,”

Jeremy turns to look at him, and he quickly has to look away. Jean’s looks are penetrating.

“Don’t…” Jeremy grips the steering wheel, looking away, “I don’t have any defenses against you,”

“You don’t need them,” Jean says, grabbing one of Jeremy’s hands and tearing it off the steering wheel, “Say it,”

Jeremy steels himself to look at Jean. Beautiful Jean, who had dropped a mangled mess into his care and had turned his life upside down. In that moment, it didn’t matter how his mother would react whenever he got back to the house, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t studied at all for the LSAT, nothing mattered except the beautiful, kind hearted, rude French defense man in front of him.

“I want… us,” he says, lacing his fingers with Jean’s.

Jean kisses the back of Jeremy’s hand. He’s shaking, Jeremy can tell.

“Okay,” he says, and offers the promise of a smile, the closest thing Jeremy has ever seen to an angel.

“Let’s go home,”

Chapter Text

The ride back is spent in comfortable silence. For once, Jeremy isn’t spiraling. He knows there’s stuff to freak out about, there always is. But it’s hard to care when Jean Moreau, the most beautiful man Jeremy had ever laid eyes upon, didn’t reject him. 

Jean didn’t have to say anything back. Jeremy knew he would if he felt like it. It was one of the many perfect things about Jean Moreau. 

When they get to the apartment, they can hear Cat and Laila watching some movie, but they slip into their room silently. Once the door is locked, Jeremy is pinned against the wall, being kissed like never before. 

With each kiss he remembers it all; how Jean rejected bribes from his family, how Jean made him say what he wanted, how Jean so often kissed him first. 

Maybe he was in love, fully and irrevocably, he puts his arms around Jean’s neck as the other holds his waist, and then the taller man freezes, stepping back, a string of saliva still joining their mouths. Jeremy is startled. 

“Wha— what’s wrong?”

“My neck,” Jean says, his hands going to pick at his skin there as they so often did, “I can’t…” he swallows, “I can’t,”

“No neck then,” Jeremy nods, and the way Jean looks surprised breaks him. He knew Grayson had hurt him. He didn’t need to know more details (he didn’t want to know, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it). The idea that Jean didn’t expect kindness now made him want to cry. He brings Jean’s hands to his lips to kiss his palms, “Anywhere else?”

Jean looks away, a rare moment of shyness or a common moment of discomfort. Jeremy rubs circles on his palms. He knew being with Jean would mean a lot of adjustments from both of them. He was ready to take on the work, he was starving for this. He hoped Jean would be willing too, but he didn’t know what it was like, in the Nest.  

“I…” Jean’s breathing falters, “I can’t, sorry,” he stands up, frustrated. His hands going to his neck. Digging in. Jeremy stands and grabs his wrists to stop Jean from hurting himself. Looks at him fiercely. 

“What? Talk to me,” he asks. Jean’s eyes threaten tears. He hates himself for a moment, before considering perhaps Jean’s mind was a prison, just like his. Maybe this had nothing to do with him. 

“I can’t have sex right now,” Jean blurts out. Jeremy steps back from the shock. Jean looks away, Jeremy now able to read his feelings as shame. He wants to kill every single Raven. 

“Jean,” Jeremy says, stepping closer to Jean again, tipping his head so he’s looking at him again, “I wasn’t… Jesus,” he runs a hand through his face, sighs, “Jean, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, ever,”

Jeremy would sooner cut his own dick off than ever approach Jean with anything other than pure devotion and consent. If Jean never wanted to have sex, Jeremy would be content jerking off on his own forever. Like he had done so for weeks now. 

He did want to have sex with Jean— Jeremy was only a man. He had believed so did Jean, but perhaps he was wrong. Regardless. It hardly mattered.

Jean nods, “It’s…” he looks frustrated. Spits some fast French Jeremy can’t comprehend, “Putain,” he finishes, “Jeremy,”

Once again, his name said by Jean has him dumb. Always. Jeremy tilts his head.

“You’ve been honest about your past, and I’ve only lied saying I’d later talk about mine,”

Jeremy feels his blood freeze at the implication of what Jean wished to share. He knew it would be a lot, He knew it would hurt them both. He already assumed based on bits and pieces. Grayson. “I didn’t ask” . Kevin talking about technicalities and secrets and Jeremy hated it all and wanted to take all hurt from Jean and have it himself and it wasn’t fair such a sweet soul had suffered so much. But he knew he needed to let Jean have this, “We should sit,” he says, putting a stray strand of hair behind Jean’s ear. 

Jean nods, and Jeremy guides them to their beds. They sit in front of each other, their knees touching. 

“Anything you want to share, I’ll listen,” Jeremy says, a small squeeze on Jean’s hand. He wanted to always hold his hand, now that he knew how it felt like. But he knew touch could be tricky when talking about such things.

Jean is quiet for a bit, his stormy eyes betraying his fast paced mind, “I’ve never…” he thinks for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth, “Not… I’ve never… wanted it,” he admits. Jeremy’s heart breaks again, “I’ve had… wishes, of better times, but until Renee, they didn’t sound possible, and she was a pipe dream,” the name of the goalkeeper has Jeremy’s blood boiling with jealousy again, and he knows it’s ridiculous, Jean is with him right now, not with Renee. He can’t help it. Perhaps it was the fact it was a woman. Safer. Someone he could publically be with without risking his career. Someone Jeremy couldn’t be for him. His self hatred needs to be put aside, for Jean’s sake if nothing else. He nods, Jean continues, “And now, I’m out of that… Hell, and I’m here, and I have… It’s harder to ignore,” he blushes, and so does Jeremy. Jean’s quiet admission of wanting Jeremy sexually makes his head spin faster than any drug he’s tried. 

Jean has his hands on his lap. Jeremy can’t help but think he looks small, and he can’t tell how this can be, when he’s one of the tallest and strongest people Jeremy knows. He wants to cradle him in his arms until all the hurt is in Jeremy’s ribs and none of it is in Jean’s bones. 

“Grayson,” the name makes the air leave the room, Jeremy straightening up, “He… in January,” Jean looks close to tears. Jeremy wants to reassure him he doesn’t have to continue, he already knows; but maybe he has to, maybe part of the healing involved an exorcism, “He made me say I wanted it, I’d have said anything, but I didn’t want it. I didn’t want it and it hurt and,” a sharp breath. Closed eyes. His hand going to his neck. Jeremy wants to dig Grayson’s grave to kill him again, “I’m glad he’s dead,” Jean finishes, his eyes fierce, the tears threatening. 

“Me too,” Jeremy says, he doesn’t say he would kill for Jean— he’s unsure he could make true on that promise, given everything about him, and to Jean, promises were everything. But the sentiment remained in his heart. Kevin had entrusted Jean to him, and Jeremy would never let him down, he already had, letting Grayson and Zane near him, but now it was different. They both knew it. 

“I don’t think I can… receive,” Jean admits, and Jeremy feels dizzy with what that means. But just swallows.

“That’s okay,” Jeremy assures him, squeezing his thigh, “We don’t have to have penetrative sex at all,” yet he can tell by Jean’s eyes that that isn’t it. He should really take some fresh air. 

Jean just nods, “It… will take time, it’s okay if you go with others to get your fill,” 

Jeremy feels bile rise in his throat. The thought of being with other men when he has Jean feels like something worse than betrayal, “Don’t say that,” says Jeremy, “I’ll wait for you, forever if you asked,” he’s surprised by his own earnestness. Jean’s eyes widen. His blush deepens. Jeremy feels like a teenager. 

“Is this,” Jean clears his throat, looks at the door, “Are we telling them?” 

“Do you want to?” Jeremy asks, holding one of Jean’s hands, their fingers intertwining, his heartbeat on his throat. He truly felt foolish and would love to tell Laila, but Jean had the final say. 

“Not today,” Jean says, guiding Jeremy to lay down with him, “Today you’re my secret,” he says, kissing his forehead. Jeremy feels like his heart will explode out of his chest. He wants to know what Jean is feeling. 

“And the rest of the team?” he asks, knowing it’d be complicated. Jeremy was the captain. Jean was fighting to be on the line, and he’d probably make it since he was better than every other backliner, and he didn’t want people assuming he made it because of being with him. A mirror to past times. Even if Jeremy wanted to tell the entire world Jean was his and he was Jean’s, he understood discretion. 

“Not yet, non,” Jean says, kissing Jeremy’s cheek, making him giggle despite himself, kissing his cheek back. Jeremy wasn’t used to such casual affection between men, as much as he’d like to be, his hookups less than kind and bringing none of it. He had already gotten more from Jean tonight than anything in years of being with men. 

“We have time,” Jeremy says, and he sees something familiar in Jean’s eyes– something he had seen once upon a time, in Noah’s eyes, something he had seen in his own reflection when it all got bad, he takes Jean’s hands, afraid he’d slip away, afraid he’d find him in a rooftop, “Jean, say it, we have time,”

“You graduate soon,” Jean says, and Jeremy has issues breathing, but he grabs Jean harder.

“Yes, and I’ll stay by your side even after that,” Jeremy says, “My promise to you doesn’t have an expiration date,”

“Promise me then,” anything , Jeremy thinks, like the fool he is, even before Jean is done, “No law school,”

Jeremy didn’t want it anyway, his LSATs creeping closer and his studying non-existent, but it was different to think that and promise it to Jean of all people. Regardless, he nods, consequences be damned. Jeremy had always been a fool, after all. “I promise. No Law School,” 

Jean looks at him for a long moment, before speaking again “Then I promise we have time,” 

Jeremy relaxes, a kiss to Jean’s tattoo, the little makeshift heart that was there more often than not, “No rush,”

After some minutes in silence, in which Jeremy thinks Jean might’ve fallen asleep and considers checking how mad his mother is at him, Jean speaks “I want to be the best, at it for you,” his voice as determined as when he speaks to his coaches, without the tint of fear, “With sex, I mean,” he adds, and desire pools at Jeremy’s stomach along some hurt. 

“You don’t have to be the best,” Jeremy says softly, his thumb on Jean’s bottom lip, “You just have to be you,”

Jean looks at him with such devotion and doubt and Jeremy allows himself to look and look and look. 

“That’s not enough,” he says, and Jeremy thinks Jean has never looked more his age than now. He’s so young and has been through so much already and Jeremy can’t— won’t— be something else he endures. He’ll be better. He has to be. He wants to be. 

“Jean, I’m pretty sure I could come apart just from looking at you, trust me, it’s enough,” Jeremy says, pressing down on Jean’s lip, drawing a soft sigh from him, “You’re beautiful, I want you so bad. Have wanted you so bad ever since I met you,”

Jean’s lips part open, and it’s Jeremy’s turn to sigh, he traces them carefully with his finger, “You allowed yourself?”

“It was way past my control by the time you had made a home in my heart,” Jeremy says, wanting to cringe at himself, but unable to when he sees Jean’s eyes soften. He steals a peck. 

“I’m learning to allow myself,” Jean whispers into his lips as soon as they part, “Is that fine?”

“Hm,” Jeremy says, as if considering it, “I’ll think about it,”

Jean rolls his eyes, biting Jeremy’s bottom lip, and Jeremy explodes into giggles. They’re soon lazily making out, and Jeremy doesn’t care about his phone being off. 

He can’t care now that he finally has what he’s desperately wanted for months now.

Chapter Text

Telling Laila and Cat goes as expected; Laila sighing in relief and Cat yelling “Finally!” and locking Jean into the tightest hug Jeremy has ever seen, a warning in Laila’s eyes and Cat’s shovel talk back in his head. He turns his phone on as the girls pry Jean for details.

As his phone shines on his eyes, he finds that the missed calls are bad and the messages are worse. 

He knows he has to make some difficult decisions, that he has to stand up for himself. He hates his mother for marrying into a political family. Feeling the same he felt as a teenager, wondering why it mattered to Texas what he did in California so much. The same train of thought that led him to oxy and then to…

His thoughts get interrupted by Laila snapping her fingers on his face and taking his phone. Practices and classes were back the next day, but, as she pointed out, today Jean and Jeremy were perfectly free to assemble the IKEA bookshelf Laila and Cat had picked up.

Jeremy is glad for the distraction, Jean complains about wanting to go for a run instead, to which Cat just pats him in the back.

Soon enough, both of the men are sitting on the floor among several pieces of MDF, Jean complaining about his fellow Europeans' business ideas after Jeremy briefly explained the concept of IKEA to him. 

“I have a question,”

“Prephrasing is a waste of breath,” Jean says as he examines the hexagon key, his rude demeanor and wrong use of a word distracting Jeremy for a second, “I can’t remember if it’s your turn,” he says, Jeremy smiles at their little game meant to help them open up, “Just ask,” 

Jeremy bites his lip, putting aside the instruction manual, scooting closer to Jean, “Did you ever feel like you’d forget it? French, I mean,”

Jean stops examining the key, Jeremy knows French can be a touchy subject for him, having had his mother tongue ripped from him at a young age, forced into a country with just the basic knowledge of its main language, but he wants to know.

“That’s not how language works,” he says finally, grabbing a ply of MDF and beginning assembling, “They couldn’t forbid me from thinking in French, as much as they’d have liked to,” any glimpse into the Nest had Jeremy wishing he never asked at all, but he continued listening, “I did feel I was going to lose it if I didn’t speak it, like I’d lose all… Marseilles, Elodie… language is linked to memory,” he continues, testing if the piece of MDF will remain in place, “Before I taught Kevin, I would whisper to myself in it during showers, before…” he freezes. A glimpse into Raven’s use of water as punishment. 

“It’s okay,” Jeremy reassures him with an easy smile and a squeeze to his knee, “Thank you for telling me,”

Jean stays quiet for a moment. Jeremy considers how tall this bookshelf is supposed to be, then Jean speaks again, “Have you ever heard of waterboarding?”

Jeremy’s whole body freezes. He had read about Abu Ghraib– his father was part of the military, he had felt a compulsion to learn more, and had never been able to look at his father the same way since. He didn’t want to imagine what this had to do with Jean, the thought was too sickening, “Yes,” he says, his voice sounding far away as his ears ring, gripping the biggest piece of MDF. 

Jean nods, glad he doesn’t have to explain, “Riko… he read about it some years ago, and he…” he doesn’t continue, “I’m working on it, in therapy, that’s what happened,” he says, focused fully on tightening the screws on the bookshelf. 

Jeremy’s throat is dry. He knows he can’t start crying now. How selfish it would be. He gets up to hug Jean regardless, leaving all the work they were doing, just hugging him, “You didn’t deserve that, and I’m proud of you for working on it,” he felt like a hypocrite, knowing he didn’t attend his own therapy sessions, but then again, he hadn’t gone through real life torture prisoners of war were subjected to, “You’re free now, Jean Moreau,”

Something passes in Jean’s face that lets Jeremy know it’s more complicated than that, but he doesn’t push. He kisses the top of Jean’s head before saying they should finish their job for the girls. They do so in comfortable silence, Jeremy occasionally humming some song he heard on the radio. 

**

He finally returns home later that day, his mother having some choice words for him, saying stuff about Jean that simply wasn’t true, wanting to ban him from see him, which she couldn’t, since he was his captain, and also because it was ridiculous. She went on, saying she had in good sources information about him, how he had slept his way into a better exy position, Jeremy grits his teeth, too exhausted to do more. He wanted to grow a backbone and tell her off. Finally leave this house that had long ago stopped being a home. He instead smokes one of his clover cigarettes by the door, hoping everyone can smell. He smiles when he remembers Jean ripping it away from his fingers. Leading him to remember Jean was his… Could he call him boyfriend? He already was his partner. But it was… It was more now. He knew he’d fight for him, for them. Even if it meant going against his mother. He had never been able to successfully rebel, all those speeding tickets swept away from his grandfather’s influence, all those high school flings too insignificant. Jean was more than rebellion, he was a revolution. 

For tonight, he just dreamt of him, of them. Of a life together. 

He wishes he was braver. 

**

Despite all the secrets he had kept through the years, Jeremy was struggling with this one. 

Perhaps it was because all other secrets had shame attached to it, and he refused to feel anything akin to shame when it came to Jean. 

The floozies point out he looks better; and he has to bite his tongue to not reveal how much he’s been kissing Jean in between practice, under the excuse of awarding him for being so good at exy (he didn’t know if it was that Jean had a praise kink or he had a praising-Jean kink, but it worked). He keeps Jean and their little secret close to his heart, where it feels it might explode. 

When Jean invites him to ride his motorbike with him, he quickly learns he’s not made for that life, no matter how appealing it had sounded at first. He still laughs at himself for it, thinking fondly of the memory of holding Jean’s middle as he closed his eyes tightly and drowned the urge to scream. 

Other than small moments, their relationship seems to remain the same. Just a lot more cuddling and hand holding. Which they don’t try to cover in the bus ride to Stanford. He can feel his team looking at them and whispering among themselves.  

“Not very subtle,” Jean says into his hair. Jeremy shrugs. People talk. 

“Say that word again,” Jeremy says, and Jean rolls his eyes. 

“How’s your French going?” he asks, and the ride quickly turns into a small lesson of correcting Jeremy’s pronunciation. He wonders if he can coax Jean into a reward system like the one they have in the locker room, but he keeps it to himself. He shares his earbuds with Jean as he puts his favorite playlist from his iPod Nano on— some Britney and lots of Michael Jackson.   

At the second hour, Tanner switches seats to the one in front of Jean to talk to him, kneeling on the bus seat and hugging the back.

Jeremy smiles at the way Jean turns into the older brother he is (was?) when it comes to Tanner. 

“Have you ever wanted to play another sport?” Tanner continues his Jean interrogation after asking some Nest questions Jean deflected. 

“Is this a questionnaire?” he asks annoyed, and Jeremy wants to laugh, but the way he pronounced that last word has him salivating more than he should. He needs to go on a run. Or take a cold shower. Or become Catholic and go to confession. All of the above. But he’s stuck on a bus. He clears his throat. Both Jean and Tanner look at him. He blushes. 

“I used to play baseball,” he offers. Nice save. 

Jean scoffs, as if it personally offended him, “Only thing a bat is good for is—,” he starts, before catching himself, as if remembering he’s no longer in a hostile environment, “No,” he says, to Tanner, “I started Exy as soon as I could pick up a racquet, that’s why I’m the best,” he says, and Jeremy bumps his knee with his, a half smile on his lips, always pleased at Jean knowing how good he is. 

“I played soccer,” Tanner says, going on about the differences between defense in both teams. Jean listens and offers his take on how stupid any sport that isn’t Exy is, and Jeremy closes his eyes, basking on the sound of his voice. 

***

Jeremy is sore by the time the bus ride is over. After picking up their keys and going up 6 flights of stairs, he desperately wants a pre-game nap, but he decides to take a shower first. Jean seems baffled by the idea, sitting on his twin bed, looking at Jeremy’s as if there was something deeply wrong with them. 

“It helps me relax,” Jeremy says, stretching, satisfied when he sees Jean staring at the sliver of skin he exposed. 

“Barbaric,” says Jean, taking out his clothes from his bag, laying them on the bed. 

Jeremy smiles fondly before entering the bathroom. Once in the shower, he jerks off with his forearm covering any noise, thinking back to Jean Jean Jean as he always does. Once he’s clean off his release and sweat, he exits the bathroom with a towel around his hips. 

He finds Jean on the bed Jeremy had selected. Sleeping. Enough space for Jeremy to lay down, given how small Jean makes himself in bed. Jeremy pulls on boxers and lays down next to Jean, ghosting a kiss over his temple. 

The nap leaves him sore again, but it is worth it. 

***

“You smell like Jeremy,” he hears Cody tell Jean in the locker room. Jean just puts his mouth guard on as a reply. Cody looks too pleased, throwing a smirk over to Jeremy. Jeremy pretends he has no idea what just happened. 

The game is not the best. Stanford is too aggressive and spends the first half trying to provoke the Trojans into a card, getting them themselves in turn, being pulled from the court left and right. By half time, the Trojans are in a bad mood and it’s up to Captain Sunshine to bring them back. He tells them how good they’re doing, how proud he is of them refusing to fall for Stanford's attempts to rile them up, giving individual notes on their strategy thus far. Talking about the second half line up, people looking around when he says Jean is going on the last half. 

“Are you sure?” one of the juniors says, Jean throws daggers at them. 

“Jean has demonstrated he can play like a Trojan even when provoked, I trust him entirely to help us score a win— well, avoid they score it,” he smiles sheepishly, Jean rolling his eyes at his poor joke, “I know what I’m doing, go Trojans!” he yells and everyone gets ready to go back. 

“Thank you,” Jean says, adjusting his gloves, “I know it’s the last game, I’ve studied the past ones, they’re always tense around us, no matter how we play,” us, we , Jeremy smiles, a gentle hand on Jean’s shoulder, feeling the armor beneath. 

“You’ve done great, Jean, and your advice is also always welcome, although I can see why you’re no captain,” Jean huffs. 

“Couldn’t deal with children,”

Everytime he says such things, Jeremy can’t help but remember how young he is. How much he’s lived through already. It makes him sick. Rather than dwell on it, he gently pushes Jean and goes talk to the coaches. 

***

The match continues just as bad, and even though they win, the Trojans take a while to cheer up. After going back and forth, they decide to call it a night and celebrate once they’re back in Los Angeles.

Jeremy’s legs are killing him, so Cody volunteers to go with Jean to their room, Jean says he doesn’t need constant chaperoning, but Cody smirks in a way that Jeremy knows they’ll pry Jean for answers about their relationship. He’s so tired he can’t care much. Jean can take that decision for the both of them. 

He drags himself to their room, opening it and throwing himself into the bed. His arm covering his eyes. He didn’t take a shower in the stadium, and he knows he reeks, but there’s a real possibility he could pass out in the shower.           

Jean opens the door as he says goodbye to Cody, and Jeremy sits up, wanting to gauge his mood. Jean looks calm. He was able to shower in the stadium, his hair still wet, dark tendrils over his forehead, almost on his eyes. 

“Staring,” Jean says to Jeremy, and Jeremy swears he sees an upturn to his lips, before he’s pulling him to the edge of the bed and kissing him roughly. 

It takes Jeremy by surprise, although it really shouldn’t. He holds Jean’s back, and he can soon see Jean is fumbling with Jeremy’s sweatpants. He pulls back. 

“Jean,” he breathes heavily, “What are you doing?”

“Let me,” Jean kisses him again, as he brings down his sweatpants with his strength. Jeremy admits it's heady, but other stuff is in his head.

“Jean…” Jeremy grabs his face, “Tell me what you’re doing,”

At this, Jean blinks, looks down to Jeremy’s lap, then kneels and Jeremy swears to God he’ll never get that image out of his head, but he looks at Jean in a way that indicates he won’t drop his request. Jean rolls his eyes. 

“I’m taking your pants off to give you a blowjob?” he says.

“Have you ever given one?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner,” Jeremy doesn’t doubt that, but he places a hand on Jean’s cheek, soft and sweet. 

“Jean, you don’t have to do that, I haven’t even showered” Jeremy says, and Jean looks down, blushing, “Oh,” he likes it ; Jeremy will keep that information for later. 

“I can do it,” 

“I believe you, but I don’t want you to,” Jeremy says, and Jean looks confused, dazed, “Don’t get me wrong, other time? Absolutely, but right now… I’m tired, and I want every first to be…” he blushes, “well, special, because you deserve it,” he smiles, kissing the corner of Jean’s mouth, “Cuddles?” 

Jean blinks a couple times, before nodding, burying himself by Jeremy’s armpit, Jeremy laughs, delighted to keep learning Jean’s little quirks and likes. He kisses his wet hair. 

They stay a while like that, before Jeremy coaxes Jean up so they can change.

Chapter Text

His LSAT exam comes and goes without much thought. 

He feels it’s a waste of time and money, but his family is already mad at him and this is the minimum he can do to calm them down. 

His phone buzzes as soon as he’s out of the building. 

Jean 

12:34 pm

How did it go

He smiles as he types his answer. 

Jeremy 

12:35 pm

Totally failed :p

Jean 

12:36 pm

Good

He snorts. 

Jeremy 

12:37 pm

Did u make it to therapy ok?

Jeremy had had to schedule his LSAT on a Saturday given his practices, so Jean had to hitch a ride from Laila, which Jeremy knew made him nervous because pretty girls made Jean nervous. 

He was happy he didn’t make Jean nervous. 

He opens the door to his car as he thinks of the fact he really isn’t going to Law School. He had never seen himself actually attending Law School, when he thought of his future, he saw himself in Exy, but it was hard to ignore the version of himself his family had drilled on him, one who married a nice WASPy girl and worked in a law firm and wasn’t a total disappointment. 

He knew failing the LSAT was the final nail on his coffin; his family would cut him off. And he knew he needed money to survive and didn’t know the first thing about living without it. He guesses he could crash at the Lofts and Cat and Laila would make sure he wouldn’t starve, and Jean… 

Well, once he graduated, teams would be fighting for him to sign, and then money would be no issue at all. But he had to wait a while for that. He bites his lip nervously. Lights his last cigarette.

His documents were the thing that worried him the most. 

He couldn’t stop feeling the well of panic in his chest at picturing his mother’s look once the results came. Once she realized he couldn’t be the son she wanted. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel as he lets the panic take over him for a bit. Annalise and Bryson join the mental image of his mother’s look, unable to even look at him, and when Joshua joins, he decides he’s had enough of his family. He’ll drive to the Lofts and be with his boyfriend. 

He opens his phone to texts from his boyfriend. Multiple texts. This was enough to put a real smile on his face. 

Jean  

12:43 pm

I prefer when you drive me

Laila doesn’t like silences

I like silence

Jeremy laughs, he’s still not sure if Jean realizes how funny he is. 

Jeremy 

12:50 pm

Dw I’ll make it up to you!!! ;)

As soon as he sends it, he regrets it. 

He hadn’t said anything that forward in a bit. He didn’t know where Jean’s boundaries lay at the moment, after they both had rejected blowjobs from each other. 

It was uncharted territory for Jeremy, he usually just got to work with past partners. They rarely wanted to talk much at all, preferring Jeremy’s mouth elsewhere. Laila said they barely even liked Jeremy outside of the bedroom, and he was inclined to agree. 

He likes Jean. He likes him so much. Hell, he loves him, he is man enough to admit that to himself, but not man enough to say it to the object of his affections, or to try to make a move on their potential sex life.

Truth is, he was nervous. He had slept with… he didn’t actually know the number, but it was a lot of men, yet he felt like he didn’t know what he was doing beyond kissing when it came to Jean. He didn’t fear hurting him, they had made clear what could happen, but he was still scared. The voice in his head that told him he’d never be good enough kept on going about how he’d disappoint Jean, how he was too good for someone like Jeremy. Someone dirty. 

He shakes his head, turning his car on and driving to the Lofts. 

***

Jabberwocky jumps to him as soon as he enters the door, his little tail wagging, Jeremy kneels down to pet him, soon finding himself looked at by his boyfriend. 

He picks Jab up, “Say ‘Hi Papa’,” he moves the dog’s front leg as if he was waving at Jean. Jean rolls his eyes, but places a kiss on Jeremy’s cheek. 

“You’re ridiculous,”

Jeremy beams. 

“Cat and Laila left, for that disgusting ball beverage,” 

Jean looks personally offended and Jeremy’s stomach flips. He wants so badly for everything to be easy. 

Maybe it could be easy. 

He gathers the courage he fears he no longer has as he follows Jean to the kitchen after placing one last kiss to Jab’s fur. 

“So,” he rests his hip on the kitchen island, “House to ourselves,”

“And Jab,” Jean adds as he drinks from his cup of coffee.

“And Jab,” Jeremy says fondly, “Want to…” God, he was usually good at this. He looks at their bedroom door. Jean’s face remains blank, so Jeremy pushes, “We could kiss and…” he shrugs, “Stuff,”

“Stuff,” Jean repeated carefully, before leaving his mug on the sink, “Okay,” he says, following Jeremy to the room. 

Jeremy could feel his heartbeat on his ears. He belatedly thinks he should have brought supplies, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

They sit back to back, letting the weight of Jean’s therapy and Jeremy’s test rest between them. It’s comforting and Jeremy only gets more restless. 

“Have you ever been tested?” he says, because he’s a romantic. And an idiot. And because having this talk without looking at each other is easier.

“In what way?” Jean asks. 

“Nurses,” Jeremy says, not wanting to say STDs right away. Like a prude.

“We got medical attention in the Nest,” Jean says, putting more of his weight on Jeremy and oh God he needs to feel Jean’s weight on him.

“For sexual health?” Jeremy asks. 

Jean is quiet for a bit, “No, I don’t think,”

“Hm,” Jeremy considers, “I’m due for a check up, we can go together,” he can feel Jean tensing up, “It’s completely normal, Jean, it’s just to be safe,”

And only maybe because Jeremy wants to feel Jean completely. But Jean doesn’t need to know how perverted he is. Yet. 

“Okay,” Jean says, searching for Jeremy’s hand with his fingers.

They stay in silence for a bit, back to back, their hands touching. 

“When did you begin?” Jean breaks the silence, “I mean, having sex,”

Jeremy considers the question. Considers Jean’s own experiences. Then his words ‘I’m not made of glass, Jeremy,’ “I was fourteen,” he shares. Jean tenses up, so he adds, “It was with a friend from Little League, we both were… well, we were 14,” he shrugs, “It was really over before it began, just trying to figure out what was happening. We could never look at each other after that,” he laughs, then quickly adds, “Because it was embarrassing, we were both desperate and wanted too much,” he shrugs again, as if it wasn’t a big deal. It had been a big deal. 

Jean seems to consider this, then asks, “You enjoy it, yes?” 

The question was unexpected. He enjoyed the release, he enjoyed not being in his head. But everything else… 

“Release is nice,” he deflects.

“Is that… the whole point?” Jean asks, almost timidly. 

Jeremy wants to be honest, “There’s also love,” then blushes, “It wouldn’t be… just release, with us,” he had such a way with words for Jean.

The impact of what hung in the air, unsaid, hit Jean, because suddenly, he was turning and grabbing Jeremy to kiss him. 

Jeremy kisses back, less desperately than what he feels. He wants to offer Jean his mouth for use again, he knows that much. But he’s become boneless as Jean kisses his neck. Jeremy offers all of it. 

Then, to his surprise, Jean bites . He whimpers in response and Jean looks terrified. Jeremy can’t have any of that.

“I liked that,” he says, taking Jean’s hand on his, feeling him relax, “It’s okay, Jean,” he squeezes his hand, “Do it again,” he says, offering his neck, and soon enough Jean is giving shy kisses, Jeremy sighs happily, which prompts Jean to bite again, and again, and again, and Jeremy is hard from it, “Harder,” he asks, “I like it,” he reassures him, and for once, he finds himself really meaning it. His fingers are on Jean’s hair. Feeling how uneven it is. Not dwelling on that. Jean fully goes for it, and Jeremy knows there’ll be marks, but lucky for him it’s winter, and also he doesn’t care, he wants to show he’s owned , even if the world doesn’t know by whom. 

Jean is growling as he attacks Jeremy’s neck, kissing the last hard bite and then licking it and oh God Jeremy feels his pants are too tight. 

He kisses Jean as he lays down on the bed, “I didn’t know I was dating a vampire,” he teases and Jean rolls his eyes.

“It can be… enjoyable, biting,” he says, as if coming to a revelation, Jeremy nods, kissing his cheek.

“It’s all about looking for what the other person likes,” he says into Jean’s mouth, kisses it, “So tell me, Jean Moreau,” another kiss, “What would you like?” 

He looks at Jean thinking, his gray eyes studying all of Jeremy’s face. Jeremy focuses on Jean’s moles. He kisses each of them just because he can. 

“Choice is overwhelming,” Jean says, and Jeremy nods, “I want to be on top,” 

Jeremy nods and is able to flip them easily, being an athlete rules. Jean’s cross necklace is hitting Jeremy’s chin now, and he does what he’s always wanted to do, catching it with his teeth. 

He sees the hunger that awakens in Jean, he pushes his luck, “Tell me what Walker did in those texts,” he says, his voice soft. Jean shivers. 

“She wanted me to… take her,” Jeremy doesn’t love that choice of words, and seriously doubts Renee used it, “And just, get lost in each others bodies,” 

“We could do that,” Jeremy kisses the tip of his nose, “Although you wouldn’t take me, you’d just… make love to me,” 

Jean’s eyes widen. He has to look away, “Okay,” he says. 

Jeremy curls a finger around Jean’s hair for a minute, “We don’t have to rush,” Jeremy says, Jean nods. 

“I want… to try,” Jean says, and soon his leg is between Jeremy’s legs and he can feel him through his sweats and he wants to jump in joy and maybe say ‘Yippee’ but he bites his tongue. He’s well aware he’s hard as a stone and by Jean’s look, he noticed. 

Jean starts moving his hips experimentally. Jeremy closes his eyes, his mouth open, “Jean,” he sighs, his hands going to Jean’s waist, “ Yes,”

Jean is unsure of his movements. In contrast, Jeremy is sure he could come from looking at him too long. It’s excruciating. It’s messy. He can’t think straight. 

Jean picks up a rhythm, his cock harder in his pants, but not enough. Jeremy considers helping with his hand. He looks at Jean, “Can I touch you?” he asks, and Jean nods. 

But he still jumps off the bed as soon as Jeremy cups his dick. Jeremy was aware this could happen, yet he hoped it didn’t.

“Sorry,” Jean says from the floor, and Jeremy sits down on the floor with him, kissing his knuckles. His heart breaking at Jean’s eyes glistening, tears threatening to drop. 

“It’s okay, Jean,” he says, just as they hear the door open for Cat and Laila, “You’re okay, we’re okay, it’ll be okay,” he kisses both his cheeks. 

Jean nods, but he doesn’t look too sure. Jeremy stands up and hauls him up, placing his hands on his cheeks, “I promise, Jean” he brings down Jean’s head so their foreheads touch, “We’ll figure it out,”

Jean sighs, and takes Jeremy’s hand as they exit the room, Laila screams upon seeing Jeremy’s neck, and Jean’s cheeks burn up. 

It’s a good day.

***

“You’re not seriously going,” Laila says, closing the textbook she’s been skimming to cram for exams. 

Jeremy is trying to find a good source on the library’s computer for his final paper on the Beat generation due tomorrow, just casually dropping his family was going to vacation in Switzerland this Winter Break, “You know how it is, Laila,” he says, too tired. Finals week was excruciating. 

She shakes her head sadly, “What does Jean think?” she asks, he bites his lip. 

“I haven’t told him,” he says, and Laila opens her book again to scream into it. 

“Skiing is nice,” he offers. He hates skiing. He thinks of Kevin Day. 

Laila throws him a death glare, “When do you leave?”

He taps on the computer. There had to be more reliable sites on Allen Ginsberg.

“Jeremy,” Laila sounds close to pissed off. He doesn’t blame her, “Sunday,” he says. She sighs, rubs her temples, then realizes. 

“Oh shit, is Jean going to stay alone? Cat and I are visiting my parents,” 

Jeremy abandons the site he found on how gay Ginsberg was to look at her, “Ah, fudge. Is any Trojan staying?”

Laila shakes her head, “Even Lucas is going to Orlando,”

Jeremy would not leave Jean with Lucas and his family under any circumstances, anyway. 

He considers the crazy idea of taking him with him to Switzerland. A small return to Europe. Would he like it? Then remembers he’s going with his family and puts that thought away. 

He bites his lip, sending a message to the floozies, asking everyone for their plans. 

He knows Jean stayed even on Winter Break on the Nest. This would be a hard moment for him. He berates himself for not considering it. 

Then Jean replies in the group chat.

Jean

1:49 pm

Neil Josten is visiting

Headache for 2 weeks

Jeremy drops his phone, quickly picking it up

Cody  

1:50 pm

0_0?

Jean 

1:51 pm

What is that

Min 

1:52 pm

WHAT

Jean 

1:52 pm

The fox striker who runs his mouth?

Xavier

1:54 pm

You’re full of surprises, Jean

Cat

1:55 pm

Y DIDNT U TELL ME :( 

Jeremy closes his phone, he feels dizzy. 

He knew Jean and Neil had a… not friendship, but connection, given their pasts. Neil had been calling Jean daily. He didn’t understand what Jean was saying. 

He guessed they both forgot to tell the other their plans. And that he was maybe failing this paper with 40% of his grade.

Chapter Text

As expected, Switzerland is miserable.

At least he’s roomed with Annalise, instead of Bryson or Joshua. 

He feels like an outsider with his own family. Such is the charmed life of one Jeremy Knox.

He lies in bed, while everyone else has gone out to ski. He had had enough skiing for a lifetime. He wonders if Kevin has anything to do with this.

As he can’t stop thinking about Exy, and there’s no nearby courts for him to practice, he considers going on a run, then looks at the heavy snow falling, and his Californian sensibilities tell him no way . 

He decides to instead do the most sensible thing, and starts looking for where his mother is keeping his passport in her luggage.

He had held it for approximately 10 minutes total, before she had taken it back, reassuring him she could keep better care of it. Right. It wasn’t his social security card or birth certificate, which he needed more urgently for when they saw the LSAT results, but it was the best he was going to get this trip.

He wondered if Jean was strong enough to break a safe. 

The thought has him licking his lips, because he’s incorrigible, and he looks at his phone, happy to find Jean had texted him a picture of Neil Josten wearing a PSU Foxes hoodie and looking surprised by the picture, holding Jab on his lap. The caption said ‘think the small one will be jealous?’ which referred to, Jeremy now knew after Jean told him, Andrew Minyard, the star goalkeeper who Jeremy didn’t know what to think of. He texts him back a ‘u think Jab prefers him? :(‘ and keeps looking, careful to leave everything back as he had found it.

He wasn’t sure he could pull this off. This was harder than pretending to go on runs to hook up with guys. Airport security would require his passport for identification. Could he maybe make it to the airport before his family? The resort they were staying in offered free shuttles to the airport every hour. It was a possibility. He just needed the perfect excuse. He needed to be careful and calculating, and outside of the court, he didn’t think he was that at all.¡

He finally finds the passport in her dirty underwear (gross), away from all the others. He feels this is fitting to how his mother sees him. How he sees himself. He looks so serious in his picture. He could remember that day; he had been so high on oxy. His eyes looked empty, and he was too skinny. This had been the year before he got into cocaine, the year before he had been recruited to be a Trojan. He had not felt he belonged there at all, and after the banquet, he was sure he was going to get kicked out. Instead, he was met with compassion and understanding and a team he couldn’t believe he was now captaining. 

He considers his passport, now in his hands. Decides he needs to carry it with himself at all times. He can’t risk messing this up. He snaps a picture and sends it to Jean with the caption ‘Victory!’ Jean sends him a thumbs up. 

He once again thinks about changing his last name. He could do it before the season started. For a second he imagines himself with Jean’s last name, people asking him if he’s French and him saying that he isn’t, but his boyfriend is. His cheeks turn red. He was being silly and he knew, but maybe…

He finds his fanny pack he got for the trip and zips his passport in an inner pocket, before putting it under his shirt. He couldn’t be too careful about this. 

***

All the dinners were the same in this vacation, and Jeremy felt he was Sysiphus if he was in Europe and the boulder were the most boring conversations ever. His hands itched for his phone, to see what Jean was doing with Neil now. They mostly stayed at the Lofts, but Jean had taken Neil on a motorcycle ride a few days ago. He really didn’t understand what was going on there, and Jean was being vague about it. But he guessed they had a bond that could only happen having grown up the way they did.

He did feel a tang of jealousy, though. It was stupid. 

Cat and Laila periodically sent pictures from Thailand to the group chat, and Jeremy really wished he was there instead.

His stepfather starts calling his name as he finishes his very bland food.

“Hm?” he calls, not expecting to be required to speak at all. Jean was right, a tie was no better than a noose, or a leash. 

“Are we boring you, Jeremy ?” his stepfather said his name like he wanted to call him something else. Jeremy drowned a grimace with a small sip of water.

“No,” he lies, “Just thinking,”

“About?” his mother says, and there’s both a challenge and a warning in her eyes. 

“Neil Josten,” he says, since it’s the truth.

Everyone grimaces, the Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t that far behind them. They don’t ask Jeremy to speak again.

***

Annalise has gone out clubbing, his mother and stepfather went on a date, and Joshua and Bryson are making use of the heated pool, so Jeremy allows himself to relax as he lies down in bed, taking out his phone to text Jean.

Jeremy 

6:37 pm

Europe is BORING

Jean

6:40 pm

The swiss aren’t known to be especially fun

Jeremy laughs, any other day, he’d have found a way to sleep with someone in the resort. And it’d have been bland and boring, Jean was right.

Jeremy

6:41 pm

The french are :) 

Jean

6:41 pm

No we are not

Jeremy

6:42 pm

I have fun with you!

Jean

6:43 pm

You might be the first to say that

Jeremy laughs, he is so happy he gets to have a moment with Jean. He wished he could call, but the long distance call would show up in the phone bill and he doesn’t want to explain anything.

Jean

6:44 pm

I’ve been thinking

Jeremy

6:45 pm

Yes?

Jean

6:46 pm

I told you about Renee

Jeremy’s stomach flips and he wants to reply something snarky, but he bites his lip.

Jeremy

6:47 pm

Goalkeeper, cute, you’ve sexted

Jean

6:47 pm

We could do that

Oh.

Oh.

Jeremy sits up on his bed, looking around, locks the door, closes the windows, decides to lock himself in the bathroom for good measure, puts a towel on the door to block any sound. He thinks hard on what to respond to seem collected.

Jeremy

6:52 pm

It’d be rad

Nailed it.

Jean

6:53 pm

Good or bad?

Dang, he forgets Jean isn’t a native speaker when they text.

Jeremy

6:53 pm

Very good!!!

Jean

6:54 pm

Ok

I’m alone in our room

Jeremy wants to ask where Josten is, but that would kill his boner, probably.

Jeremy

6:55 pm

Our bed?

Jean

6:56 pm

Your side

Frick. Jeremy palms himself through his pants.

Jeremy

6:57 pm

What are you thinking about?

Jean

6:58 pm

I had a dream

I bent you over kitchen island

Jeremy almost dropped his phone, his hand going to his pants.

Jeremy

6:59 pm

It could be real

Eventually

Jean

7:01 pm

Oui

I miss you

Jeremy

7:02 pm

I miss you too

Jean

7:02 pm

Smelling one of your shirts

Dirty or clean? Jeremy wants to ask, but teasing Jean in such a vulnerable moment would just be mean.

Jeremy

7:04 pm

I wish I had something of yours

Jean

7:05 pm

The bites

Jean’s hickeys were almost faded completely now and Jeremy was mourning, he would probably ask him for more again. And again. And again.

Jeremy

7:07 pm

Need more of them

Jean 

7:09 pm

I touch myself thinking of your sounds when I did it

Jeremy’s brain short circuits, he speeds up his movements on his dick. It was hard to type this way.

Jeremy

7:11 pm

R u doing it now

The thought of Jean with his mouth a little open, his hair plastered over his forehead. It was good . He wanted to see him come so badly. Wanted to bring him to it.

Jean

7:12 pm

Maybe

Are you

Yes yes yes heck yes.

Jeremy

7:13 pm

Ur so hot

Yes

Jean

7:14 pm

I am too

With that, Jeremy comes in his pants, most of it in his hand. He grabs toilet paper and cleans himself.

Jeremy

7:17 pm

I came

Jean

7:18 pm

Me too

He changes clothes and buries his cum stained briefs in his dirty laundry, his pajamas now on. Unlocks the doors and erases any evidence of what had happened.

Jean

7:20 pm

I want to touch you when ur back

Jeremy had never thought he could feel actual butterflies in his stomach.

Jeremy

7:21 pm

:) 

Jeremy is smiling so widely he doesn’t even care when he hears Joshua and Bryson coming back. 

Jean

7:33 pm

Fox is back

He says hi

Gave me sex advice

Now that is a conversation Jeremy can’t imagine.

Jeremy

7:34 pm

Nice of him

Jean

7:36 pm

He’s a pain

Talk later?

Jeremy

7:36 pm

OK!

<3

Jean

7:37 pm

<3

Chapter Text

According to William, both of his test results came in the mail the same day. 

Jeremy grabs both envelopes as he gets to his room, before anyone else can see. Before his mom asks for his passport back. He needs to be quick . 

His heart is pounding in his ears. Most of his clothes are already in Jean’s closet, as well as his exy trophies, at his partner’s insistence. Now he has to choose what else to take, and be forced to recognize how little of himself is in this room. He takes some photographs he has in the back of his closet, all his remaining clothes sans the suits, and a few things his grandma left him. He wonders how long it’ll take his stepfather to turn this into an office. 

He throws his backpack over his shoulder as he takes one last look at his room. If Bryson tried to plant drugs in it, it wouldn’t mean a thing. He’d be gone. He rushes down the stairs and eats a sandwich as quickly as he can. He thinks of his social security card and his birth certificate. How hard it might be to get it. But it can’t matter. Not now. 

He feels his savings in his pocket. Measly $238 he had pocketed at different times. He leaves his credit card on the freezer. Smiling to himself. Tears open his LSAT results. Winces. No respectable school would take him. Snaps a picture and texts it to the group chat. His mouth is dry. His family will arrive soon. Should he write a letter? Should he destroy his phone? Maybe he just needs to change his number… 

He thinks bitterly of how happy his stepfather will be with him gone. The feeling hurts. All the slurs and dirty looks. 

Then he thinks of Jean. Soft beautiful Jean, who’s family gave him up, who finds kindness in every creature including himself. Who looks at Jeremy like he’s worth something. Jean has gone through Hell and found his own family. And so has Jeremy. 

He wants to say goodbye to his mom. To Annelise. He feels childish. He wants a hug. He wants them to care. To come to his debut in the league. To see him and Jean happy and approve. 

He wants so much it makes him sick. 

He traces the numbers in the letter one last time before saying goodbye to William, a tight hug and a heartfelt ‘Thank you for caring’. A last look at his house. He takes a picture of him and Annelise when they were little and looked like twins. Takes it out of the frame. Decides he can keep it. Before Noah. Before her accident. 

He can remember this one thing. 

He’s backing away from the driveway when his parents arrive, and he’s already on his way to the highway. Away from the Wilshires. 

***

He thought he would feel better. But as soon as he enters the Lofts and Jean’s arms are around him, he crumbles. Crying into Jean’s chest. Jean guides him to their room. Neil Josten lying on the floor then leaving to call… someone, once he sees Jeremy. Jean envelopes him with his arms and says something in French. Jeremy sobs until he falls asleep. He hears Laila’s voice by his side and then lies in silence for some time. Where’s Jean? He thinks he asks. 

Airport. Jeremy thinks he hears. 

Where is he going, he’s pretty sure he says. 

Neil is leaving, comes Laila’s voice. 

Oh, he falls asleep again. 

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s only got Jab by his side, his warm body moving along his breathing as he’s curled up on Jeremy’s back. He scratches Jab's ears as he stands up, looking for his friends. 

He finds Annelise in the front door, Jean, Cat, and Laila talking to her, not inviting her in. She’s harmless, he wants to defend her, but she’s not. Not really. 

Her look sharpens when she sees him. Jean turns and then holds the door to keep him from her eyes. He goes to the kitchen. Whatever they were saying, he didn’t need to know. 

“Have a nice day, Annelise,” Laila finally says, loud enough for Jeremy to hear, fully closing the door and locking it. Rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

“Set us some coffee,” Cat says as she sits by the kitchen island. 

Jean looks tense, his arms are crossed in his chest. Jeremy focuses on the coffee machine. Laila rests her head on his shoulder. 

“We love you,” she says.

He freezes, “Did she say…” 

“Drugs in your room,” Jean says, as if it was the most ridiculous concept, his nose hunching up, “Right,”

Bryson. He sighs, “Assuming she didn’t say anything about how much they want me back?” he tries joking. it comes out flat. 

Laila sighs. Cat grips a banana. Jean just stares.

“I don’t think they even realized your room is empty of your trophies, dear,” Laila says, kissing his shoulder, “Sorry,”

He shrugs, starting the coffee machine, “That house was never home,” he says, “This is,” he says, drawing an imaginary square with his finger. 

Laila squeezes his shoulder and lets go. 

“They're taking away your beds and bringing a big one today,” Cat says, serving herself some coffee. 

“Gnarly,” he says, looking over at Jean, who’s looking away, a faint pink tint on his cheeks. 

“How was Neil? I couldn’t even interrogate him,” Cat says, pouting. 

“I was keeping him from you,” Jean says, in his usual offset matter Cat had learned not to take personally, “He was a danger to everyone, as usual,” but there’s something like fondness in his voice.

Cat smiles, kissing Jean’s cheek as she hands him his coffee. 

“Did you get the results?” Jeremy asks Jean as he rests his head on his shoulder, just wanting to think of anything other than his siblings. 

“Yes,” Jean says, “All negative,” he says, “You?” 

“I haven’t seen them,” Jeremy says, “Tried to worry about one result at the time,” he tries to joke, but Jean has seen how poorly he did in the LSAT. 

“There’s no rush,” Jean says, and he drinks from his coffee. Jeremy nods, kissing Jean’s shoulder. 

“No rush,” Jeremy agrees. But still walks over to get the envelope, tearing it open and laying it on the kitchen island. All four of them gather to look at it. 

Everything looks in order, he sighs in relief. He had been careful enough even when his partners didn’t want to be. He doesn’t feel inclined to share this detail; he knows nobody would appreciate hearing how badly he had allowed himself to be treated. 

“Means you two can rawdog it,” Cat says over her cup of coffee. Laila bursts out laughing, Jeremy blushes. He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive all of them openly discussing his sex life with Jean. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Jean says, and Jeremy hides his face in his hands.

“Means doing it raw,” Laila explains, Jean still looks confused, “No condom,” she clears up. 

“Oh,” Jean considers, and there’s something he’s not sharing, but Jeremy decides he doesn’t need him to push. 

Laila’s phone starts ringing, and as soon as she checks it, she hangs up. Jeremy tries to catch her eyes, but she pointedly avoids him. 

“I promised Jean we would watch Ratatouille today! I got it on DVD,” Cat says, “You’re welcome to join us in this cultural exchange,”

“I don’t want that, I don’t like Paris,” Jean says, crossing his arms, but he lets himself be pulled by Cat all the same. Jeremy actually smiles, following them as Laila types something furiously on her phone.

***

Neither Bryson nor Annelise try showing up to the Lofts again. Probably because they had to return to their real lives in different states, but regardless of the reason, Jeremy is grateful. He knows Laila has shown security pictures of all the Wilshires to bar them from coming, and he loves her for it. 

He’d also be lying if he said he doesn’t miss his mom. 

He wishes he could call his father for some comfort, but he wouldn’t get it there. He’d just feel worse. His father had never done feelings and he wasn’t about to start just because Jeremy had left the Wilshires.

When Jeremy had taken the decision to keep his father’s name rather than change it into the powerful and dreadful Wilshire, a part of him had hoped it would bring him closer to his father. Yet the man had barely reacted; Jeremy even had the impression he had wanted to tell him he was taking the wrong decision. Now both last names were wrong . Jeremy supposed it was a fitting metaphor for his entire self.

His mother tries reaching him, he’s aware of it. He can see Laila tense and typing on her phone often. He knows better than to ask. She might be his mother, but Laila is right for her anger; too many passing comments from a ‘well-meaning’ white woman like the ones Laila got from his mother would turn even the nicest person into a villain.

A lot has changed in the week since he left his family. The strangest thing might be how rested he feels. He hasn’t felt this way probably since middle school. He’s not falling asleep constantly and feels way more alert about everything. He catches himself wanting to join conversations and joining Jean on his morning jogs. It’s odd.

“When you first got here,” he tells Jean as they stretch for a run, “You said the lack of pain felt uncomfortable,” Jean studies him, waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t get it then, but now that I’m sleeping my hours, i think I do,” 

“You snore now,” is all Jean says before bolting away. They now allowed themselves to be a little competitive between them. Lots of rewards for the winner. 

No sex yet, but Jeremy wouldn’t push. No matter how desperate he was for it. He’s jerked off more in these past few months than he has in the entirety of his active sex life. 

He’s considered bringing it up a couple times. Times where Jean looked especially good or when their kissing seemed to be leading towards something heavier. But then he remembered Jean curled up on himself as he sleeps, and maybe he was too gentle with him, even when he knew he could handle it. Jean could deny him sex just like he denied him the chance to drink two bottles of Gatorade in one sitting. But, frankly, Jeremy just refused to be like them. He offered Jean the chance of a choice, and his own needs weren’t above that. 

He just wishes there was a way to tell Jean he could use him, that it didn’t have to mean what people said sex meant in a relationship. It could be about release, even if the mere thought of Jean touching him like that had Jeremy wanting to dunk his head on cold water. It definitely wouldn’t be about release for him. 

But he could offer Jean that. He would offer him anything.

Chapter Text

Some days are harder than others. This one is one of them. 

Which is why Jean finds Jeremy attempting to hype himself up by dancing in their living room to “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” by Whitney Houston. 

He stands on the threshold for a moment, before Jeremy catches him and tries to get him to dance by grabbing his hands, jumping around. 

“What are you doing?” Jean asks in French, and Jeremy understands. And even if he feels like garbage and was trying to convince himself it wasn’t so, this does lift up his mood. 

“Dancing!” he replies in French, and Jean looks surprised, “Told you I’d learn for you,” 

Jean looks flustered as he heads to the kitchen to get a banana for himself. He watches Jeremy’s attempt at a performance as he peels it. Once the song is over, he offers half the banana to Jeremy. 

“Thank you,” he says in French, eating half the banana in one bite, “How was class?” 

“Pure rot of the brain,” he replies. Jean’s classes were few and spread throughout this semester, so he was testing coming back to the Lofts during dead hours. Sometimes to be with Jeremy, who only had four classes, all electives, given the fact he was graduating, and sometimes to avoid eating out. 

“Delightful,” Jeremy says, a cheeky smile on his face.

Jean remains staring at Jeremy in his unabashed way. Like he wants to tear him apart– oh, and how Jeremy wants him to.

“See something you like?” Jeremy says as he flexes, he’s not as strong as Jean is, especially now that he’s eating right, but he still has a good amount of muscle, and Jean licks his lips. Jeremy just wants him to ravage him, eat him whole, bend him over the nearest surface. He’s not above begging. He bites his bottom lip.

“Cat and Laila aren’t home,” he says as he dangles the banana peel before finally deciding to throw it away. 

“They’re not,” Jeremy says.

Jean nods, just standing in the middle of the space between the kitchen and the living room, as if he doesn’t know where to put himself. For such a big man, it looks rather silly. Jab can be heard gently snoring on his little bed. 

Jeremy feels he can’t take it anymore; all this unresolved tension, the promise of something so close yet so out of reach. He wants to touch Jean. He feels he’ll die if Jean doesn’t tell him he wants him. 

“Are you attracted to me?” is what he ends up saying. 

Jean looks at him surprised, his grey sad eyes blinking one, two, three times, “What?”

Jeremy rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, “I just—,” he decides to be bold, pull his old tricks. Maybe talking isn’t the way, maybe actions will help; offer himself. He crosses the distance and gets on his knees in front of Jean, whose eyes widen. 

“ What? ” Jean recoils, and Jeremy gets it— his baggage is too big for Jean, he’s too disgusting, “Jeremy, get up,” 

He does so, now unable to look at Jean’s eyes until the other man lifts his chin in that rough but caring manner he has. 

Their eyes meet, and there’s nothing like disgust in Jean’s eyes. There’s only Jean— the honest, open man Jeremy has come to know and love.

“What’s going on?” Jean says, running a soft thumb through Jeremy’s jaw, “Is this because we haven’t fucked?”

The crass words hit Jeremy in the stomach, as if he wasn’t just on his knees a moment ago. He tries looking away, but he can’t, Jean is holding him firmly.

When he doesn’t reply, Jean says “Jeremy,”

“Am I doing something wrong?” Jeremy spills out, “I told you I’m easy, why won’t you…” he groans in frustration, “I’d do anything,”

“You’re upset,” Jean says, if it was anyone else, Jeremy would snap. But it’s Jean. Jean Jean Jean.

“I—,” he groans again, closing his eyes, takes a deep breath, “ Yes ,” he admits. It feels good not to lie for once, “I haven’t been with anyone really, since the first time we kissed,”

Jean looks shocked, knowing it’s been months. Jeremy usually had his ongoing roster ready to go, slipping between stolen moments for a fuck, coming back smelling of other men and with bruises in his body. People noticed. Jean certainly noticed.

“I… didn’t know it had been that long,” Jean says, and Jeremy knows he’s messing up. He had been the one to talk about time , that they didn’t have to rush, but maybe he was saying that more for Jean’s sake than his own. 

But he needed the feeling, he needed the rough treatment and maybe with Jean he wouldn’t feel like crap afterward. Maybe the voice in his head he had heard his entire life would finally shut down once he had this and he had just been chasing after the wrong leads all along. 

Then again, maybe nobody was coming to save him. It wasn’t fair to put Jean on that pedestal.

“It has,” Jeremy says, sighing, rubs his temples, “Sorry, forget I said anything,”

Jean shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Jeremy wants to storm out, but then this will feel like a fight, and it’s not a fight. Jean has said he wants him. Jean has trusted him to touch him, to be his first kiss, to sleep next to him, he has been nothing but a rock to Jeremy, even when he has his own mental crap. He’s picking issues out of thin air because his life has changed, because for once, a man is choosing him and wanting to be around him outside of a bedroom. And Jeremy, he’s trashing this one good thing over nothing. 

“So you want to do it now?” Jean says, and it sounds like he would, for Jeremy, even if he doesn’t want to at the moment. Jeremy reaches for his hand, it has gone limp by his jaw.

“No,” Jeremy says immediately, kissing Jean’s inner wrist, “I’m being stupid,”

“It’s just…” Jean sighs, “Harder than I expected, letting go,” he says, “Betsy and Neil have helped, Andrew too,”

Jean talking about his issues around intimacy with Andrew makes Jeremy’s heart hurt, he kisses Jean’s hand with pure devotion, kissing every single finger. A hand meant for violence, bred for it, and which chooses kindness every time. 

“I’ll wait,” Jeremy says, “You’ve trusted me with this, with you, I’ll wait. You’re in control”

“Maybe I want to lose control,” Jean says, and Jeremy feels the air around them grow heavier, or maybe it’s his clothes growing tighter, “I want to,” Jean admits, and Jeremy knew that , but he still feels a hungry knot in his stomach, “You don’t know how bad… For how long…” he runs a hand through Jeremy’s back, and Jeremy gasps, a small unexpected sound. Jean runs his hand over again, prompting it once again. 

“Tell me,” Jeremy whimpers, arching to Jean’s touch. He’d go pliant for him, he’d do anything. Bark if he asks— he doubts he’d ask, but the thought is now in his head. A collar, crawling on all fours. He’s sick in the head. He knows that.

“I was 15, and Kevin put on one of the Trojans games and you were on the background of an interview, and you just… gave off an energy,” Jeremy’s freshman year , he wasn’t proud of who he was then, but still, Jean had seen him and seen something worth believing in, even when he lived in Hell. 

“It wasn’t that magazine talking about my gay scandal?” Jeremy teases, now resting his head on Jean’s shoulder, Jean throws him a death glare.

“Told you I couldn’t read,” Jean says in an annoyed tone, and Jeremy is glad to hear it. An annoyed Jean is a regular, relaxed Jean. Jeremy wraps his arms around his middle in a hug.

They stay like that, holding each other, for a long moment.

“Sorry I’m like this,” Jeremy says into Jean’s shoulder.

“Never apologize, I like you the way you are,” Jean says, kissing Jeremy’s hair, “Though you need to go to the salon, your roots are awful,”

Jeremy rolls his eyes but laughs.Prompting Jean to put on a match as he grabs a bottle of beer, which, of course, Jean disapproves on and tries to take away from him.