Chapter Text
“Oh mon Dieu,” Jean muttered, stroking the chinchilla that was cradled in his arm. “It’s so soft.”
“Told you it’s life changing.”
“Almost as good as holding you,” Jean murmured into Jeremy’s ear, and smirked when his words induced a blazing blush in Jeremy’s cheeks.
“Who’s the sap now?” Jeremy retorted, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But he’d hardly had a chance to succeed, when Jean reached out his free arm to pull Jeremy in for a kiss.
It took Jeremy by surprise still, the affection Jean was capable of—as though last night had unlocked something in him. Since then, it had gently blossomed out, like the petals of a sunflower, bright and warm and radiant. A side of him that had lain dormant or so long, finally allowing itself to emerge with every fleeting smile, every stolen touch, every kiss.
There was only one explanation for it. Beneath the scowls and stoicism, Jean Moreau was a romantic at heart. And Jeremy could hardly believe his luck as he wrapped his arms around Jean’s neck and kissed him back. Butterflies swooped through his stomach and up into his chest.
But the flurry of papillons was soon interrupted. “Merde!” Jean yelped, pulling away abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” Jeremy asked, alarmed.
“Little bastard just shat on me.”
Jeremy froze for one long moment, enough time for his panic to fade and his eyes to register the little round poops on Jean’s sleeve. And then he howled with laughter.
Jean shot him a withering scowl, and Jeremy fought to tamper it down. But he was too far gone, already doubled over in stitches. He collapsed into the wall with the effort, arms wrapped around his stomach as he wheezed in a gasping breath, before letting it out again in a fit of giggles.
The corners of Jean’s mouth crept up, and soon, he was laughing too. Tentative at first, before building to full volume. It rang out like birdsong, wild and unrestrained, full-bellied and soulful. It was the first time Jeremy had heard Jean laugh, and he thought that it might have been the most magical sound to have ever blessed his ears. Another petal of the sunflower, unfolding itself to the light.
He recovered enough to scoop up the chinchilla and watched fondly as Jean rid himself of his unwanted little gifts, the remnants of laughter still etched on his face.
One of the volunteers scurried towards them, broom in hand, ready to sweep up the mess. “Sorry about that,” she said ruefully. “He’s a new rescue. Super friendly, but hasn’t been potty trained.”
“What’s his name?” Jeremy asked, gently scratching at the fluff behind his ears.
“He hasn’t got one yet. Let us know if you have any suggestions.”
Jeremy turned to Jean, who was now blessedly poop-free. “I’m thinking Westley?”
The laugher on Jean’s face gave way for his standard look of disdain. “What kind of a name is Westley?”
The manager must have overheard, because there was a shout from the opposite side of the room. “Jeremy, we’ve talked about this. No more naming chins after Princess Bride characters!”
“You guys are no fun,” Jeremy said, dismayed. “How about Exy players?”
Jean shrugged.
“Kevin,” Jeremy suggested at once. It was a joke. Mostly.
“Over my dead body,” Jean retorted.
Jeremy sighed. It had been worth a try. “Well, do you have any better ideas?”
Jean took a step closer, and reached out to stroke Not-Westley-or-Kevin with a tender hand. The corners of his lips tugged upwards. “Papillon,” he said softly.
And Jeremy had been ready to instantly disagree, out of peak pettiness. But the words died on his tongue.
“Papillon,” he repeated instead, as a smile bloomed on his lips. “It’s perfect.”
fin.
🥍🥍🥍