Work Text:
“What’s wrong?” Jeremy asks.
Jean blinks down at him, startled. It is still so strange, sometimes, how well Jeremy has come to know him. How a single downward curl of a corner of his mouth can draw his boyfriend’s attention, and how much he has come to like it.
“Nothing,” Jean says, because he does not want Jeremy to worry.
And then, because he knows Jeremy will worry anyway, “It is going to rain.”
Jeremy frowns at him, up at the gray sky, and then down at where Jabberwocky is trotting happily along the sidewalk. “Do you want to head back?”
The question is not about the weather.
Rather, it’s about the creak in Jean’s bones, the ache running through their center. Jean feels Jeremy’s thumb rub soothingly over his knuckles, and says, “No.”
Jeremy’s frown deepens. Jean wants to reach over and straighten it, to smooth out the crease between Jeremy’s eyebrows, but doing so would mean letting go of the leash, or Jeremy, and neither option seems desirable at the moment.
He settles for bringing their joined hands up to his mouth instead, and pressing a kiss to the back of Jeremy’s. “It is not so bad, yet. But if it gets there, I will tell you. Okay?”
Years ago, he would not have even offered that. Years ago, he would have fought against his limitations, and pushed himself harder than his body could handle.
And on some days, he still does.
It was not an easy thing, learning to care for this body, battered and broken as it was. But somehow, along the way, he had. Whether he liked it or not, this was his body, and his body had gotten him through everything that led him here. His body had held itself together even when he wanted it to fall apart, and now it was his turn, to make sure it stayed that way.
Jeremy worries at his lip. “I just,” he starts, and Jean watches him bite off several endings before he finishes with, “wish I could help more.”
“You do,” Jean tells him sincerely, and that, if nothing else, gets Jeremy’s expression to brighten just a bit.
They make it through the walk.
Jean’s bones ache slightly more than when they’d started, but it is nothing unbearable. He tries to assure Jeremy as much, but before he can so much as get a word out of his mouth, Jeremy is pressing a kiss to his cheek, and telling him to meet him in the bathroom.
Jean watches him go. Jabberwocky barks.
Jean bends to unclip the dog’s leash and harness, and then Jabberwocky is abandoning him, too, to go lie down on his bed in the living room. It is bittersweet, to watch him run. Eleven years old, and still acting as young as the day they got him.
Briefly, Jean wonders what they will do when Jab’s body aches the way his does. But the thought is too big, and too much, and he turns in search of Jeremy instead.
The sound of the bath reaches him first. Jean feels a familiar tensing of his muscles, but it is there and gone again, and brighter is the smile Jeremy throws him over his shoulder.
“Hey,” Jeremy says. “Can you feel this? I can’t tell if it’s too hot.”
Already, the tub is half full. Jean leans down to run his fingers through it the surface, and teases, “Is this your way of telling me I smell?”
“I just thought it would be nice,” Jeremy says. “Relaxing. The epsom salts have helped before. And,” he adds, excitedly, “we’ve got bubbles too, I checked.”
It is nice. Jean feels the warmth tug at the tension in his body, and exhales softly. “Last time we used those, you flooded the bathroom. We were cleaning out bubbles for two days.”
“And now we know that seven capfuls is too much,” Jeremy says. “You live, and you learn. This time, I solemnly swear not to use more than six-and-a-half.”
Jean snorts. Jeremy’s eyes flick down to where Jean is lazily dragging his hand through the water. “Good?”
“Good,” Jean says, and Jeremy smiles, pleased. He turns off the faucet, and to reach for the bag of epsom salt on the counter. Jean strips out of his shirt, and once it’s off, comes to wrap his arms around Jeremy.
Jeremy leans into the touch. Jean hooks his chin over his shoulder, watching him pour the salt into the bath, and then turns to press a lazy kiss to Jeremy’s jaw. “Veux-tu te joindre à moi?”
Jeremy hums thoughtfully, but Jean can feel the way he shivers at the words. In all their years together, Jeremy has yet to become immune to the language.
Still, he manages a, “Can I add the bubbles?”
“If you must,” Jean says, without any real annoyance. He would pry the stars from the sky if Jeremy asked for them. “But I’m cutting you off at four caps.”
Jeremy nods seriously. “I accept these terms.”
Jean huffs a laugh. Jeremy turns toward him, dimples on display, and Jean cannot resist. He brings a hand to Jeremy’s chin, and tilts his head up, into a kiss.
Jeremy melts into it.
Against Jean’s mouth, he says, “This is supposed to be about you.”
Against Jeremy’s mouth, Jean says, “Trust me when I say it still is.”
Jeremy’s smile comes back tenfold. It is improbable, but somehow, Jean swears it gets brighter each and every time Jeremy flashes it. He turns for the bubbles, just to see if it is at its limit, and is not disappointed.
When the salts are dissolved, and the bubbles are formed, Jean holds out a hand, and helps Jeremy off the edge of the tub. Jeremy goes willingly, and after a lingering kiss, lets Jean tug off his shirt.
They strip the rest of the way. Pants and socks get tossed onto the floor, and then Jean is climbing in, and holding a hand out for Jeremy to follow. Jean settles down first, and once he’s situated, Jeremy settles down behind him.
Jean stretches out. The first time they’d done this, he’d expected his legs to be too long, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to find they fit almost exactly. The warmth of the water feels good on his muscles, his joints. The bubbles surround his chest, and hide everything from view.
“Okay?” Jeremy asks.
“Okay,” Jean says.
Years ago, this would have been unfathomable. Now, it is relaxing. Jean leans back, into Jeremy’s chest, and tugs Jeremy’s arms around his shoulders. Jeremy leans forward, and presses a kiss to the crown of Jean’s head.
“Jabberwocky?” Jeremy asks.
“Asleep, I think,” Jean says, and interlocks their fingers. “Maybe we can nap with him, after.”
“Napping on our day off,” Jeremy muses. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Moreau?”
“Non,” Jean says, and cannot keep a ridiculous smile off his face as he lets his eyes flutter shut. “If I was trying to flirt with you, I’d tell you we could get takeout after we nap.”
“Oh baby, now you’re talking dirty to me,” Jeremy moans.
Jean shakes his head, enamored despite himself. He settles back further, as Jeremy settles into silence, and lets himself drift. Behind him, he can feel Jeremy’s heartbeat, his breathing, and both are pleasant enough lullaby to get lost in.
He’s not completely out, though. He can feel where Jeremy is running his thumb over his again, can feel where he presses his lips to his shoulder, the side of his head; can hear where the bubbles are slowly starting to pop, one by one.
Slowly, the pain dissipates. It’s not fully gone—it never is—but Jean eventually starts to feel…lighter. His body feels looser. His fingertips are prunes.
“I think,” Jean says, and presses a kiss to Jeremy’s bicep, “that it’s time to get out.”
They drain the tub, and turn on the shower. Jean shampoos Jeremy, lets Jeremy shampoo him back, and then takes to soaping them both up and rinsing them both off. Jeremy giggles at being toweled off like the dog, and Jean’s heart swells when Jeremy steals one of his hoodies to put on over his shorts.
By the time they’re finished, it is pouring. Jean can hear the sound of the rain against the roof, the pavement outside.
He can also hear Jabberwocky snoring.
“This beast can sleep through anything,” Jean says as he takes up a spot on the cushions below him. Jeremy crawls between his legs, and takes up a spot on his chest.
“Rain is good for sleeping,” Jeremy says. “Joints, not so much.” He pauses, and glances up to search Jean’s face. “Do you feel better?”
Jean leans in, and presses a kiss to Jeremy’s forehead. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Oh,” Jeremy says, yawns. “Of course, sweetheart. Anytime.”