Work Text:
Jean wasn’t much of a talker, he never had been. He could list the number of reasons as to why that was, language barrier, the court, Edgar Allen, Kevin, the list could go on and on, and would probably end with a numerous amount of horrified looks from people who were too gentle to wear them.
But just because he didn’t talk, doesn’t mean he wasn’t listening. Or, in this case, watching.
September was well on its way, and it was miraculous to Jean how even with the start of the Fall, the Southern California heat beat down as brutal as always. While the warming sun scorching the asphalt seemed to be a permanent feature around here, other things began to slip and slide, changing like the lapping waves on the dusty shores of the coast.
The new apartment, while they had been working to make it feel like home, still felt unstable and new. Cat and Laila had made it a point to turn it into a home, with daisy paintings, thrifted quilts and pillows, and just about anything the rest of the floozies deemed appropriate to help them start over. It was quite the thing to observe, how without a word, the team of twenty-nine united together yet again to tend the roots of something that had been so viciously destroyed in a careless act of misplaced justice.
Laila had taken the loss deep within her bones, and no matter the efforts and attempts to make the apartment theirs, there was still a heavy weight on her shoulders that followed her through her day to day activities. Jean watched, how she seemed to tuck into herself, during practices especially, only hitting with the necessary force to scrape by until one of the captains or coaches ragged on her to get her head in the game.
Jean once or twice tried to help, just as she had for him all those times before, but it usually ended in her brushing off his gentle concerns, or giving him a smile and a pat on his shoulder that shut down any argument.
Cat and Jeremy weren’t much better. Of the three, Cat seemed to be doing the best with their current situation. She took everything handed to her in stride and with her head high, despite a half-hearted smile on her face. Even the new dog, Jab, which was a whole new world of trouble, did she take gracefully as she could.
Jeremy too was loving the new beast in the apartment, when he was conscious that is. Being Jeremy’s partner meant a lot of things to Jean, messy and complicated and possibly tripping over lines that shouldn’t be crossed, but above all else, Jeremy’s failures became Jean’s and Jean’s were Jeremy's. And recently, Jean had noticed a downward trend for Jeremy, one that mostly ended in him curled up on a couch or bench attempting to squeeze out any sort of sleep he could.
Guilt gnawed a hole through Jean each time he saw the bags under Jeremy’s eyes. No matter how the others reassured him, Jean was a contributor to the weight dragging the skin down, dragging Jeremy down further and further until he drowned a sun extinguished he’s backsliding promised he wouldn’t but did I push him down. He was never good at eye contact, but Jeremy had always made it easy to look. Until now, when the dark bruising under what should be a sunkissed freckled face made it impossible to get grey eyes up to honied brown.
The coffee mugs and energy drinks were also a strong indicator of how little sleep Jeremy was getting. He walked in the door far too early with a thermos in hand, already jittery from the caffeine William was sure to have prepared for him. By noon, the thermos had disappeared in favor of a shiny Rockstar or some other equally mortifying sugar creation. Jean voiced his opinions on the growing caffeine habit more than once, but Jeremy smoothly waved him off with a grin that was nearly criminal.
Eventually, Cat and Laila got involved, which only ended in an argument and Jeremy storming out of the apartment. Jean was…at a loss, to say the least. He knew Jeremy would never hurt him, hurt the girls hurt Jab, but seeing the exhausted, blown-out pupils of his partner, it was an entirely new and disconcerting side. Said he can’t backslide but then what is this?
“Damn,” Laila had growled, forcefully scrubbing at the counter with a cloth. “He’s losing his mind over this. Those-! Those fuckin tests his Mom is…” She ground her jaw sharply, hard enough Jean could hear the edges of her teeth clattering together. Cat wound up behind her, gently rubbing her shoulder and casting a soft, downtrodden look at him. Jab wiggled in his lap at her gaze, standing up and wagging his tail just enough to bat Jean in the face.
Laila had looked up just in time to see the tail dust over Jean’s nose, and both she and Cat got the show of a lifetime as Jean’s nose wrinkled and an unexpected sneeze tore out of him. That seemed to break the tension, as Laila let up on burning a hole in the counter, and moved around the counter to beckon Jab over in a sickly sweet tone.
Jean resolved then to solve this problem. He was Jean’s partner, it was his job to take care of things like this, as Jeremy had done for him so many times before. He could never forgive Jeremy if he backslided but what if I caught him in time.
It all came to a head on a Friday night. He wasn’t too good with words, and his stunted explanation of “needing the apartment with just him and Jeremy” only got the girls teasing and him to turn a brilliant shade of red. But if Jeremy wasn’t going to take care of himself, and outside intervention was an issue, Jean had to do this alone.
Jeremy was curled up on the recently bought couch, still stiff from lack of use, with his laptop in front of him and all kinds of LSTAT forms on his lap. “When did’cha say the girls were getting back?”
“Late,” Jean hummed, washing out the last of the dishes and setting them off to the side to dry. “They went north. To, um,” he paused, trying to reconfigure the translation of French to English in his head. It was taking too long, and instead he breathed out, “ Mille Chênes. ” without much further thought.
Jeremy’s French lessons seem to have been paying off, as he yawned a jaw cracking yawn and reached for a sip of his energy drink, understanding where Jean was referring to. “That’s uh, that’s- Hm, bit of a drive?” He managed to string together before kicking back the rest of his can. Jean pressed his lips into a tight line, unsettled by the way Jeremy was barely hanging onto consciousness despite the ungodly amount of energy drink running through his system.
Overall, the worst part of this whole insomnia problem was how much it reminded Jean of the Nest. Sixteen hour days, endless and exhausting practices and classes, only to head back to the dorm for a whole new type of torture, he’d seen freshmen in a similar state before it was beat out of them.
He would never raise a hand to Jeremy in the way the Ravens had to him, but for a moment, his mind toed the thought. How easy, how vulnerable Jeremy was right now, how one hard smack to the head or chest would have him out for days. But as soon as he realized just what he was thinking, he had to fold his arms into his stomach to stop the bile from rising into his throat.
Never I will never be like them.
“Jean,” Jeremy all but slurred, tilting his head to the side as he peered over the couch at the taller man. “We still good for tomorrow morning? I know you were wanting to get to the Court by seven to run some drills before practice.”
It was now or never, he supposed. He had brought the issue to Rhemann first, hadn’t missed the softness in his eyes when he realized just what Jean was offering to give up to allow for Jeremy to rest, when he understood Jean was coming to him because of the trust blooming between them something about a Father , and had gladly written off on the excuse for both Jeremy and Jean to miss Saturday practice.
It snarled red hot in Jean’s chest, the thought of missing a practice for sleep of all things. But the angry fire in his chest and angry chattering bird in his brain were met with a bucket of water every time he saw Jeremy stumble, nod off just a little, here and there, just enough the Coaches could understand this was a bigger problem than Jeremy had been letting on.
In response to Jeremy’s question, Jean pushed off the counter, coming to stand over Jeremy and the study guides in his lap. “Jean?” Jeremy asked again, and Jean forced himself to meet the dull, fogged over eyes and eye bags he had willingly allowed to develop. It killed him to see it, and he raised his hand to the silver cross around his neck with some kind of prayer that this would help. It's a step, just one that wouldn’t miraculously fix everything, but hopefully it would be enough to start.
Jean allowed his free hand to grab at Jeremy’s chin, turning it from right to left to fully accept how sunken and hollow it had become. And then, in one fell swoop, he let go and scooped up the LSAT material, and Jeremy’s laptop, and stalked off to their room.
Jeremy sputtered in response, far too slow and clumsy for Jean’s liking. If he were to perform at his best in the coming game next week, this had to stop. “Jean!” Jeremy hollered, finally figuring out his legs and stumbling down the hall after Jean.
Jean had just set the study guides overtop his own at his desk when Jeremy nearly slid into the room, a scowl on his face. “The fuck Jean?” It was comical to watch, no matter how much he tried to deepen his scowl, Jeremy's face didn’t quite fit the “exhausted college student who's about to have a tantrum” look. He stalked into the room, and Jean took up his guard at the drawer. “I-I need those!”
“Do you?” He challenged, folding his arms across his chest, allowing it to come out softer than intended.
Jeremy sputtered in return, “Y-Yes! You know how close the LSATs are? I have to-”
Jean was never one to interrupt. Too many times, it had ended gravely, in bruises and blood and water when prying eyes weren’t watching. But if there ever was a moment for Jean to grow a spine, this had to be one of them. “What?” his tone sharpened, locked Jeremy’s mouth shut, had his eyes widening despite that ever incessant twitching that had begun in his right one a couple days back.
“I-I have to,”
“Imbécile, you study too much. You should be focused on Exy, anything besides it is a pointless endeavor.”
There it was again, that fear in Jeremy’s eyes, amplified by the sleep deprivation. He feared what would happen if he did not take this test, though Jean had yet to fully understand why. With such a promising career ahead of him, and the passion he brought onto the court, there was no point in attempting to pretend Jeremy was something he’s not. A lawyer, it tasted sour on Jean’s tongue, it’s like calling Jean a Raven, he is not one of them nor will he ever be. No matter how hard he pretends.
Jeremy finally started to put together what this was, an intervention, and seemed to remember himself. He pulled back, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning. “Jean, I-I appreciate the concern but-”
“But nothing,” Jean risked moving, just enough so he could shut the door. Jeremy had tried to reach for the study material in that time, but Jean caught his wrist and pulled him up short. “I am your partner. Your success is mine, and your failure is mine, as is your health. You spend all that time concerned with my health, and yet you seem to forget anything when it comes to yours.”
Jeremy didn’t yank his wrist away as Jean expected him to, instead stared through Jean with a set jaw and another terrible scowl. “I’m fine Jean, just a little stressed ‘s all.”
Jean’s free hand came up to cup the set jaw, and fingers gently pressed into the bags under Jeremy’s eyes. “ This is not fine,” He spoke for only the two of them, but with the finality that warned Jeremy not to argue with him. “I came to California to leave behind sixteen-hour days, not to see my partner commit himself to a month of them.”
That hit Jeremy like a punch to the gut, and he flinched hard enough Jean allowed him to let go. A hand dragged itself up into his hair, and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. A moment of silence passed, the only sounds in the air being the rumble of the city outside the open window, and Jeremy’s breathing in and out.
Eventually, painfully , Jeremy squared his shoulders and muttered. “I can’t sleep.”
“Explain.”
“It’s hard to- I don’t know Jean, I just- Any time I close my eyes, all I can think about is the LSTATs, the house, the fire, the Ravens and-and don’t even get me started on my family!” He took to pacing, animatedly listing off the list of the things keeping him up at night. “I am trying Jean.” he finally emphasized at last, dropping himself down onto the bed. “But every time I close my fuckin’ eyes, everything gets so loud.”
Steely eyes combed over Jeremy for a beat after the admission, watching, perhaps waiting to see if there was more. Jeremy risked a glance up at Jean, and as soon as their eyes met they dropped back to the floor. “I’m a mess,” Jeremy laughed with nothing behind it, rubbing a hand across the strained smile on his face. Jean decided he did not like that smile on Jeremy, there were no dimples or warmth to it, nothing but storm clouds on a stormy sea. “I promise I’ll try to sleep tonight. William brought me those gummy things, Melatonin? I’ve been taking them but I don’t think-”
Jean did not want to hear any more of this. No medication would make up for the lack of sleep, and could only serve to further hinder Jeremy on the court when he was just as clumsy in the morning hours after waking. “You will sleep tonight.” Jean stated, striding over to the light switch on the wall and flicking it off. “There is no “try” and there is no “promising.”
Through the foggy memories of the Nest, there was one night or two when the sleep Jean was able to find was peaceful, calm. He’d curl in on himself, pretend each piece of himself was detaching and floating away, until a buzz traveled up and down his arms and legs and turned them to solid concrete. He’d count, often flowers in a field from back in Marseille, maybe the tiles on the ceiling or the divots in his sheets. Jean would allow himself a moment of peace, forcing a dark, black screen over all thoughts and locking them into a metal box until he was startled out of bed by Zane’s alarm.
Jeremy seemed surprised by the sudden lack of lighting, attempting to stand up and argue, “Jean-”
“ Non, I will hear no more of this nonsense.” He gave Jeremy’s shoulder a rough shove, forcing him back down onto the mattress on his path to close the window. The glass couldn’t block out the entire outside world, but it was enough to settle the room into a calm atmosphere of mostly white noise.
“Jean,” Jeremy tried again, turning to sit cross-legged on the bed. “But the girls, and-! I mean we have to be up early for practice tomorrow so-”
“You and I will not be attending practice tomorrow.”
Jeremy choked on the spit in his mouth, nearly falling over at the thought of Jean missing practice for any sort of reason. Jean fumbled his way in the dark to the foot of the bed, again leaning over Jeremy ashe contemplated the size of their twin mattresses. “Jean that’s-! You’ve been saying how you need more practice, what the hell do you mean we’re not…”
“You are going to sleep tonight without worrying about waking up tomorrow. And I will be here to ensure you do.”
“O-Oh?”
“You are my partner,” Jean offered, softer as he pressed the tips of his fingers into Jeremy’s chest. “I cannot allow this to continue on.” He pushed, and without complaint, Jeremy allowed himself to settle back against the mattress, eyes so wide Jean could see them in the dark. Jean joined him soon after, peeling off his socks and sinking into the sheets, giving them just enough space to breathe but not so much either one needed to worry about falling off.
Jeremy stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide and face flushed as Jean studied his profile from his stomach. After another round of silence, Jeremy broke. “Jean, coaches are going to- Laying in bed, it doesn’t help, trust me, I’ve tried everything.” Jean hummed in response, debating the risk of breaking the barrier between the two of them. Jeremy turned his eyes, swollen, tired, like Atlas holding up the world, and muttered again. “I can’t sleep.”
The look in his eyes was painful enough to cinch Jean’s heart and get him moving, he simply could not allow for it to continue any longer. Reaching out a hand, Jean scooped Jeremy’s left into his right, and squeezed. “Let me help,” Jean all but whispered, all too aware of their proximity to each other. Jeremy froze for a moment, then allowed himself to relax against the weight of Jean’s hand holding his.
Gently as ever, Jean guided Jeremy to roll onto his side, facing the door and away from steel eyes. Their hands never broke, and Jean snaked another arm around his waist and pulled him in, pressing his knees into the back of Jeremy’s so they were more curled together. “Like this,” Jean muttered from behind him, pressing their intertwined hands against Jeremy’s chest. “Breathe, with me Jeremy, allow yourself to calm.”
The energy drink he had just finished off was still coursing violently through Jeremy’s system, and despite slowing his breathing to match Jean’s, there was still a twitchy anticipation under his skin. Jean pressed his face further into the crown of Jeremy’s head, squeezing just a little tighter as if the motion could sponge out the caffeine. “If I see one of those monstrous energy drinks again, I will smash it over your head.”
Jeremy jerked with the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth, curling more into Jean with the movement. “Hah-! I’d like to see you try.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jean hummed, loosely letting his fingers unravel from Jeremy to press a palm into his chest. Their breathing continued, easily falling in rhythm with each other. After minutes of this, the sitting and steady pattern of breath, Jean broke the silence. “Now, count.”
Jermey shifted only slightly, sinking deeper into the bed, “What?” He hushed, hand smoothing out to cover where Jean’s was spread. “Anything.” was Jean’s response, followed by an even quieter, “I prefer flowers, ones in a field somewhere back in Mariselle.” Jeremy tensed at the unexpected bearing of something so personal such as that, fingers winding back into Jean’s, but relaxed again as Jean pressed a kiss into the bleach blonde curls towards the top of his head and nuzzled his way to a comfortable resting place.
There was no answer that came after that, only the steady squeeze of tanned hands around scarred ones. Once or twice, Jean could catch a wisp of French rolling off the other’s tongue, cinquante, soixante-quinze, cent trois, until he neared the two hundreds, and after what felt like an eternity, Jeremy sagged into Jean’s arms, and he was out of it moments after that.
Warmth radiated off each point Jeremy was snuggled into Jean, which was almost all of him, and Jean had to fight the twinge of a smile that toed at the corner of his mouth. Finally, Captain Sunshine was allowing himself to dip below the horizon, even if Jean had to string a rope around him and tug, and there was peace on his face as he fell deeper and deeper into rest.
His hair smelled of the beach, faintly salty with a hint of Cat’s floral perfume. Vaughly, he understood this was crossing at least one or two lines, they were partners, nothing more nothing less, and cuddling in a twin sized bed, breathing each other in was steadily blurring itself into the something more category. And maybe that something more included more nights like these, counting the freckles lightly splashed across tanned skin, rubbing gentle circles in the soft part of Jeremy’s stomach where his other hand had found a home.
His plan had worked flawlessly, cornering Jeremy into taking care of himself and staying to confirm he did. The wrench came, however, when Jean realized how hard it would be to let him go in the morning. The thought had him burrowing his face into the crook of Jeremy’s neck, hoping he wouldn’t wake up at the movement, praying that maybe he would.
Jean wasn’t too fond of sleep, but when it finally came, it sunk him deep, deep under. By far, it had to be one of the best nights of rest he could recall, all while curled around a living, breathing beam of light.
Lighthouse, he thought when he woke, face smashed close to Jeremy who had flipped over in his sleep and was now entangled with Jean. Late afternoon sun curled in through the window in a spotted pattern, just barely brushing the chin of his partner. One who already looked far better than the night before. Jean raised a hand to cup the sunlight, seeking the light in the storm, a light after years of darkness, and thumbed across a sea of freckles.
There were years between him and the person he was when he last thought of love, years of blood and pain that drenched the memories and stained them a terrible red. And yet, when the caramel brown eyes finally opened, puffy and still a bit swollen, tracing their way up the hand that held the sun to the moon attached, Jean thinks he’s begun to understand just what love may may actually mean.