Chapter Text
For the duration of their friendship, Jean and Jeremy had become professional ballroom dancers. That is to say, they skirted skillfully around what each other truly wanted, not knowing they both craved the same exact thing.
They’d fallen asleep next to each other before--while traveling to games, on the couch during a movie marathon, the one time they went camping on the beach--but this was different. Legs tangled, one arm dead asleep under the weight of the other, the press of a hand against a warm back while remaining limbs lay draped over sleep wrinkled pajamas, Jean was not expecting to wake up with Jeremy staring at him. His eyes were somewhat puffy from the night before but there hadn’t seemed to be any bags under them. As his own gaze focused, he continued to take him in, still partially asleep.
Jeremy had awoken in a slight panic. He’d kept his eyes closed, racking his brain to figure out who he’d slept with the night before. Embarrassingly, he remembered crying with Jean but that was it. Jeremy’s only conclusion was he must have gotten violently blackout drunk and was in someone else’s bed. His body didn’t feel sore in the slightest which meant he must have topped but he knew from experience that was never successful if he was that drunk to begin with. This entire spiral had him so enraptured he missed the familiar scent of Jean’s body wash surrounding him, the cool press of a metal necklace grazing his hot skin, and the familiar pattern of callouses Exy players collected on their palms. When he finally steeled his own nerves to open his eyes, they watered with relief. It wasn’t just another notch in his bedpost. It was Jean.
“I didn’t know you had freckles so close to your eyebrows.” Jean said before inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he lengthened his limbs in a freshly woken stretch. Jeremy almost passed away. He was too awake for this. Once Jean settled, reality began to color things more. The smallest of gasps left his lips as he began to unfurl himself. “I’m sor--”
“Don’t,” Jeremy pressed a hand to Jean’s chest. “Don’t be. It’s fine.” He smiled softly. “How are you?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” The boys whispered as if they were hiding from the world that they were awake.
“We could always ask each other at the same time.” Jeremy smirked.
To resist the urge of kissing him, Jean licked his own lips and swallowed hard. “I slept well.” His own overwhelm distracted him from noticing how Jeremy’s eyes tracked his tongue.
“Me too.” Their gazes met. “Better than I have for a long time.”
“Likewise.” Jean allowed himself the small pleasure of releasing his own tension five percent. “Thank you for trusting me.” He removed his hand from Jeremy’s back and cupped his cheek instead. Thumb brushing against his freckled skin once, he smiled sadly. “I’m sorry you’ve been carrying that for so long.” Jean watched Jeremy’s eyes close. He felt the fabric of his shirt bunch. “I’m your partner. As you carry mine, I carry yours.” With slight pressure, he tilted Jeremy’s head upward, silently trying to convince him to match his gaze.
Somehow knowing exactly what it was Jean wanted, Jeremy opened his eyes slowly. Everything was distorted as fat tears settled along his waterline. “I wish we shared something else. Like a favorite color or something.” His solitary wet laugh was enough to shake the tears free.
“Life would never be that kind.” Jean wiped the other’s cheeks dry.
“You deserve kindness, Jean Moreau. You’re the kindest man I know.”
“I treated you like a Raven. That is not kindness.” He removed his hand, unworthy for such an intimate touch.
“I was going to let my own personal shit get us wiped off the map as far as Death Matches go. Your behavior was kind for the Trojans…in a roundabout kind of way.” Jeremy reasoned, reaching for Jean’s hand and pressing his knuckles against his lips without thinking.
Jean gasped and instinctively tried to pull away just before easing up. “Jeremy, I don’t know if--”
“It’s just a kiss on the hand. It’s not like I asked you to fuck me raw.” He stated point blank.
A ferocious red colored the apples of his cheeks as he let out a small huff. “I know you are speaking English but sometimes I swear it’s a new dialect.” Jean muttered.
“Just wait until I get better at French.” Jeremy offered Jean a playful shove. He had felt so overcome with emotion and gratitude and love for his partner, he felt he would’ve exploded had he not pressed his lips against him in some manner. Needing space to sort that moment out as well as his feelings, he laid flat on his back. “I don’t even know what time it is.”
Jean watched Jeremy resituate himself on the bed before copying him, opposite arms touching. “At least it’s Sunday.” Thankfully there weren’t any practices or classes they had to scramble to. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jeremy chewing the inside of his bottom lip hard. Jean stretched his fingers out and hooked them between Jeremy’s. The chewing stopped and he swore he saw a small smile.
“At least it’s Sunday.” Jeremy agreed.