Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jean Moreau is very happy his husband is pregnant.

Ever since they met, even when Jean didn’t know he was an alpha and not a beta as he was made to believe in the Ravens (amazing what blockers did), the second he saw Jeremy in person, he knew he’d look beautiful pregnant– his second thought upon seeing him was guilt over having such thoughts over his captain . But that was years behind, and now he could say, with all certainty, that Jeremy did look absolutely stunning pregnant. Good enough to eat, he would say, if he liked using those stupid English expressions.

There are so many advantages to this, too. Jean is obsessed with fucking him raw, there’s nothing like Jeremy’s tightness and wetness around him, and there’s no risk of pregnancy-upon-pregnancy. Plus, Jeremy is more sensitive and whiney as hell, just like Jean likes him. And Jeremy’s pregnant belly is an obsession in itself, Jean loves rubbing it and feeling for kicks and absolutely spoiling him.

Which brings him to the one downside: Jeremy’s pregnancy cravings; all fried food, all junk food, stuff Jean can barely even look at. It’s been years since his time in the Nest, but he remains unable to deal with certain foods, and unfortunately for him, those are his husband’s body’s chosen snacks during these 9 months. He fears they might never be able to take the stench off their reclining chair. 

Luckily for Jeremy, his husband loves him, and so, Jean has his hand over his nose as he queues up for some atrocity in the streets of Los Angeles. It’s hot outside and he can feel himself sweating through his shirt, the discomfort will be worth the smile on Jeremy’s face, though. That smile that made his freckled cheeks hunch up and his eyes light up. 

God, Jean really, really loves Jeremy. The smell is almost suffocating, who even likes fried pickles? At least Jeremy has an excuse. 

Jean can feel someone staring at his neck as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He would usually ignore it, but his senses are on edge, so he just turns to snap at them. 

He takes a step back when he sees them, almost crashing into the person in front of him. He knew eventually he’d run into another former Raven from his years there, but he assumed it’d be during one of Jeremy’s Exy games, not in the least likely place to find 

“Johnny,” he says, “Thought you died,” there’s no worry in his voice. Jean stares at him, the Raven’s mocking smile falters, “You should look out for your diet better,” he tries.

“You’re not a professional player,” Jean says, “So you eat garbage,” 

The smile fully drops, “You’re also here,”

Jean blinks at him, turns to keep walk another step, “Not for me, and I do not care for you,”

“What?” the Raven laughs, “Is it for your omega captain?”

Jean stays silent. It’s such a stupid line of thinking, Jean and Jeremy graduated years ago, and it’s public knowledge Jean stopped playing Exy after one season with Montreal and married Jeremy, captain of the LA Kingslayers. If this idiot hadn’t kept up, it’s not Jean’s problem. 

“It is?” the Raven keeps pushing. Jean keeps ignoring him, “Oh my God, always so faggy, Johnny,” Jean takes a deep breath. He just wants to get Jeremy’s disgusting meal and leave. Not surprising when Ravens haven’t grown up from the mindset they had in the Nest. 

“Your voice is annoying,” is the last Jean says before he’s ordering Jeremy’s usual. 

He walks off as quickly as he can. He’s on the edge of becoming grumpy, and Jeremy doesn’t deserve that.

The ride back home on his bike helps clear his head. 

He opens the door, immediately relaxing when Jeremy’s scent reaches him. He’s laying on their couch, watching one of those TV shows he makes Jean watch with him. Jean thinks about how good his husband’s comeback to the league will be once he’s off pregnancy leave. As of now, he’s rubbing his belly, seemingly biting down on some plastic. He turns and his face lights up as he spots Jean. He can’t stand up, but Jean leans down to place a kiss on his forehead before passing him the bag full of fried atrocities. 

“Plastic?” Jean asks, taking it away from Jeremy’s mouth, “Our baby isn’t a Barbie,”

“Barbie doesn’t eat plastic, she’s just plastic, and it’s fantastic,” Jeremy says as he sits up. 

Jean rolls his eyes, “Eat your actual food, please,” he places a kiss on Jeremy’s knuckles, “How are you feeling?”

“Very pregnant,” Jeremy says, holding his belly. 8 months in, it is to be expected. Jean has been reading on everything , from how to properly hold a baby, to how to raise them bilingual, he’s been taking all the classes possible, and sometimes he feels his brain will explode from all the knowledge he’s acquired. He’s nervous. He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his parents, or Jeremy’s parents did. It’s terrifying. He just has to show a strong, brave face for Jeremy, after all, he’s the one doing the hardest part.

His husband is digging into the fried food, moaning around it, his fingers covered in grease. If Jean wasn’t helplessly in love, he’d find this gross, but, since it’s Jeremy, it’s endearing.

“Je t’aime, so much,” Jean says, looking at Jeremy.

Jeremy burps, “I love you more. Did something happen?” he asks, taking a bite of the fried pickle. 

Jean thinks of the Raven run-in, “Not really,” he says, “I just like saying it,”

“Hm,” Jeremy licks his fingers, “I know,” 

The way Jean wants to jump his husband’s bones after seeing such an act needs to be studied. He sits next to him, an arm around him, he kisses Jeremy’s cheek and rubs his belly, the baby almost always kicks whenever Jean has a hand over Jeremy, it’s the most endearing thing ever. Today, it makes Jean tear up, which he quickly tries to hide as to not worry Jeremy.

“Jean?” Jeremy says, resting his head on his shoulder, “You can be emotional,” he says, now a bite off a french fry, offering it to Jean, who finishes it up. Exposure therapy, Betsy had called it years ago. 

Jean allows himself to actually tear up, “I just… am scared, but happy, too,” he’s always struggled with words in this stupid language.

“Me too,” Jeremy says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “But I trust you’ll be the best dad,” Jeremy has teased him, saying he’s going to be the dad that allows them to do anything, whereas Jeremy will be the hardass. Jean takes it as a compliment. It had been that way with their first dog, too. Jean always let him sleep on his bed while Jeremy was the one to tell Jab off whenever he bit Jean’s shoes. 

“Best?” Jean groans, “Best I can be,” he says.

“Jean, my love, my heart, my soul,” Jeremy turns to face him, hold his hands, “You have been literally the best partner during my entire pregnancy, even when I was being irrational or sick or,” he points to the bag, “I have no doubts you, Jean Moreau, will be the best father to my kid,” 

Jean, as always, is unable to take a compliment, so he just hides his face in Jeremy’s neck.

What a life he’s living.