Chapter Text
He lay contentedly on his back, his chest rising and falling as Jakob tried to even out his breaths, attempted to come back down from his euphoria. He rolled his head to the right, looked down at his partner, beaming up at him with satisfaction.
“You are beautiful,” he said simply, craning his neck down and catching her lips in a brief kiss. When he withdrew, he saw Jean look down, saw the apples of her cheeks redden in the dim light of the room. He scooted somehow closer to her, nudged her slightly, wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Jean pillowed her head on his chest, raked her fingers through his chest hair and sighed happily, and Jakob felt as though nothing could go wrong in his world.
Just two years–he never would’ve imagined that his life would change so drastically in two meager years. But within that time, Jakob met the woman of his dreams, and they came together and fell apart and clawed their way back to one another once more, then they started building a family. And through painful twists and turns of fate and of choice, they ended up here, happy, laying in bed after a passionate display of their love for one another, with their young adults all off at university, with their one year old daughter sleeping soundly two rooms away.
The patterns Jean was drawing into his chest lulled Jakob into a near-sleep, and he sighed as his eyelids grew heavy and fell closed while he rubbed small circles on Jean’s back with his thumb.
On the edge of sleep, he heard his partner murmur softly, “Jakob?”
“Mm,” he hummed gently.
“Are you going back to Mrs. Johansson’s tomorrow?”
He furrowed his brow, breathed deeply as he scrunched his face, unwilling to open his eyes again, to be pulled back from the precipice of sleep. “Yeah,” he exhaled heavily, “a couple more days.”
She paused, and Jakob felt the air charge around them, so he opened one eye, peered down at the top of Jean’s head, still lying still on his chest. He rubbed his hand up her back once more, whispered softly, “Why?”
Jean inhaled hesitantly, began twisting her fingers into his chest hair. She shifted uncomfortably against him, pressed her face against the bare skin of his side.
“Jean,” he prodded tenderly.
“She–” Jean moved her face from him so that her voice was clearer, “It’s just–you’ve already been there for a couple of days.”
“Well,” Jakob gave cautiously, the word drawn out over a full breath, “It’s a whole bathroom renovation. It takes time.” He looked down at her again, brought his free palm to her jaw, angled her face so that her eyes met his in the darkness; he saw them sparkle, full of moisture, and his breath hitched. “Jean. Don’t you remember when I redid your bathroom? It took a few days.”
“It didn’t take a full week.”
“It wasn’t a full bathroom,” he teased, and his heart skipped a beat when one corner of his partner’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Baby,” he breathed, “What’s wrong?”
“Mrs. Johansson–” she repeated the woman’s name slowly, carefully, letting the sounds roll off of her tongue, “She’s very pretty.”
He squinted down at her, halted as understanding washed over his senses, then his mouth twisted into a playful smirk, and he swallowed thickly, modulating the next words to escape from his lips, “Is she?”
She scraped her nails against his chest, harder this time, and Jakob’s heart soared when he heard the mirth in her tone when she spoke, “You know that she is, Jakob.”
Licking his lips, Jakob contemplated his next words, eventually said them with caution, “You’re jealous.”
“I am absolutely not jealous,” Jean released in a huff, using her elbow to prop her up on her side next to the man.
A wide smile formed on his face as he teased her further, “I think that you are.” And he moved his fingers to rest in the dip of her waist.
“I’m not jealous, Jakob,” she reiterated firmly, and Jakob wriggled his fingers against her skin, grinned when he heard her musical laugh escape her lips.
Jean grabbed onto his hand, halted him before she continued, “There’s no reason for me to be jealous. It’s completely normal for a single, heterosexual woman to find a handsome, successful man attractive–especially one who owns his own business and is a present, attentive father to a young child. And it’s normal for you to find her attractive as well—“
“Jean–”
“An attraction is normal, Jakob, I totally understand that,” she bit down on her lower lip, “I just–I wondered about how much you’ve been going over there.”
“Stop, Jean,” he said with a finality to his statement. “I have no interest in Mrs. Johansson. I only care about you.”
Silence engulfed them, and Jakob moved to mirror his partner’s position, placed his hand beneath his head as he propped himself on his side. He brought his left palm to rest on her cheek, rubbed his thumb gently there–a touchstone keeping them connected to one another.
When he spoke again, his voice was low, tender, caring, “I understand feelings of jealousy, Jean, you know that I do.” She opened her mouth to speak but he soldiered on, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel the way that you do. But I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I love you very much.”
“I know, it’s just–” she inhaled shakily, “attraction can be a very strong force, and she’s a lovely woman–”
“Hey,” he whispered, scooting even closer to her, moving his left hand to wrap around her, allowing it to travel down to her ass, pulling her into him, “Do you trust me?”
Jakob held his breath, nervous to hear her answer. Trust between them had been hard won in their relationship, and Jakob was fearful of a backslide.
“Of course I trust you,” she gave gently, moving to stitch the fingers of her right hand through his hair. She exhaled through her nostrils, spoke softly, “Mrs. Johansson called today.”
And he furrowed his brow again, confusion etching itself onto his face, “She called here?”
“Mhm,” Jean’s gaze wandered from his face, landed on his shoulder, then his chest, then moved away from him completely to roam around the bedroom.
“Why?”
“She said you left your toolbelt in her kitchen,” Jean said in a wooden voice, and she swallowed her emotion, pressed her lips together tightly.
“Yeah,” he answered, “She called my phone and told me I left a toolbelt there.” He squinted his eyes, “I told her it’s fine, I’m going to be there tomorrow.” He returned his palm to Jean’s cheek, brought her gaze back to meet his.
“Why were you in her kitchen?”
“To tell her I was done for the day, that I’d be back tomorrow,” he said simply and left a moment for her to take in his words, “Jean, I’m not attracted to her.”
“It’s a chemical thing, Jakob–a biological thing.”
“Well, I think we have a choice in who we’re attracted to–” he held his hand up when Jean tried to interrupt, “I do. Jean, I knew from the moment I first saw you that I was attracted to you, from the moment you sneezed in that doorway downstairs.” He smiled to himself, shook his head to focus on the woman in front of him, “I know when I’m attracted to someone. I love you, and only you. And I’m not interested in anyone else.”