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This is not how Jean Moreau’s day was supposed to start. He didn’t plan on waking to a wet nose against his face, or the plaintive little whimpers of a small body trying to burrow into him for comfort.
“Jabberwocky, non…” he murmurs sleepily, but the rest of the words catch when his hand brushes over the puppy’s fur in an attempt to push him away. The heat beneath his palm is unmistakable.
Immediately wide awake, Jean’s head snaps up off his pillow. “Jabberwocky?”
His puppy only makes a small, pitiful sound and nuzzles closer into his palm. Alarmed, Jean sits up in bed, and Jabberwocky cries out at the loss of warmth. Jean scoops him up instinctively, holding him in the way Jeremy and the girls have done in front of him more than a dozen times, arms secure under his back, tucked in close against his chest.
Waves of heat roll off the tiny frame. Jean crosses the room in quick strides and flips up the light switch, flooding the room with enough light for him to notice the redness in Jabberwocky’s glassy eyes. When his tiny body spasms a little in pain and he lets out another whine into his chest, Jean rushes back to his bed, lays him down gently on top of his Trojans blanket, and tucks it around him until he’s wrapped into a tight, protective cocoon, with only his tiny, sniffling nose poking out.
Jean has never once entered the girls’ room without knocking. He would rather die than find out what the two of them get up to behind closed doors.
But today, his concern for Jabberwocky outweighs his fear of getting scarred for life, so he kicks the door open with the back of his foot.
Cat screams like she’s being murdered and falls off the mattress. Laila squints at him in the dark from her pillow, barely conscious.
“Cat?” she mumbles, “Is that the Ghoul? Are we dying?"
Jean decides he has no interest in finding out who, or what, that is. “Jabberwocky is sick. I do not know what is wrong with him.”
Laila snaps fully awake, even as Cat continues to roll over on the floor, groaning and clutching her head. She pushes herself upright, crosses to him, and switches on the light.
“What’s wrong?”
He tries to hand Jabberwocky over, but Laila only shakes her head and gestures for him to keep holding the puppy. So, he follows her to the kitchen, hovering anxiously as she digs through a cabinet and retrieves a thermometer.
Jabberwocky whimpers when she coaxes it into his mouth. Laila’s forehead creases when she reads the number. “One-oh-four.”
Jean’s heart nearly stops. “Is that bad? I told you—I told you—that smug poodle at the dog park that kept chasing him was a menace. The insolent creature clearly infected him.”
“Let’s calm down,” Cat says, padding up behind him and looping her arms around his waist in a comforting squeeze. “He’ll be okay. I'm sure the little guy just needs some rest.”
Jean stares at her like she’s lost her mind. “He needs a doctor.”
Cat arches an eyebrow at him and gestures at the kitchen clock, which very clearly reads 4:45 a.m.
Laila glances up from her phone. “There's a 24-hour vet clinic thirty minutes away.”
Jean is already halfway to the door by the time she finishes the sentence.
The waiting room of the vet clinic is completely deserted when they walk in. They have to physically shake the receptionist awake from where she’s slumped over her desk, mouth open, absolutely dead to the world.
Jean brings up calling Jeremy on the drive over, but Laila quietly suggests they wait until a vet has actually examined Jabberwocky, since there's no point in worrying him when he’s too far away to do anything about it. Jean hates keeping things from his boyfriend, but he hates the thought of Jeremy worrying even more, so he acquiesces.
A nurse shows them into a small, empty examination room and tells them a vet tech will be in shortly. Jean carefully sets Jabberwocky on the table, still thoroughly bundled in the blanket, and works out the stiffness in his arms after holding the puppy aloft for so long. He stays close, hovering as the door opens again and a young man in navy scrubs steps inside the room.
He glances at the chart, squinting. “Jabberwocky?” When Jean gives a curt nod in response, he smiles. “Cool name.”
“I had no part in naming him,” Jean responds bluntly.
“Right,” the vet tech says with an awkward laugh, running a hand through his sandy auburn hair. “My name is Daniel. I’m going to take a look at...err, Jabberwocky, and see if I can figure out what’s going on. If anything seems serious, I’ll page the supervising vet to come in and take a look. But I’m sure it won’t come to that.”
Jean frowns at him suspiciously. “So, you are not a vet? Do you have any training at all?”
Daniel’s smile tightens around the edges. “I promise I have all the necessary credentials to examine him.”
Jean begrudgingly decides to trust him, mostly because neither Laila or Cat seem concerned by his lack of qualifications, but he watches Daniel like a hawk as the tech checks Jabberwocky’s temperature and runs a series of quick tests.
“Dogs get sick sometimes, it’s perfectly normal,” Daniel says at last. “Jabberwocky does have a fever, but it’s not high enough to require intervention. Wipe him down with a cool towel every hour to help bring the fever down and try to get him to drink small amounts of water. Check his temperature every couple of hours and keep track if it's going down. If it’s still above one-oh-three tomorrow, give me a call. I can give you my number.”
Jean cannot fathom a single reason why this man is smiling directly at him with a white-teethed intensity that borders on unnerving. He shoots Laila a look that very plainly says, you deal with whatever this is.
Both she and Cat look like they're seconds from dissolving into fits of laughter.
Laila clears her throat. “You can give me your number. I’ll call if things get worse.”
Daniel makes a visible attempt not to look disappointed. He recites his number to Laila anyway, but keeps darting hopeful glances at Jean's direction, lingering at the doorway on his way out. “If you have any questions,” he adds, eyes fixed on Jean, “you can… you know. Call.”
Jean stares back, perplexed.
Daniel wilts just a little, smiles anyway, and leaves the room.
“What a bizarre man,” Jean huffs as he picks up a snoozing Jabberwocky back into his arms.
To his utter annoyance, both girls burst into fits of quiet giggles. “Oh my god.” Cat wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “My clueless baby, never change.”
Jean doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Can we leave?” he asks grumpily.
Jean falls asleep in the backseat with Jabberwocky in his arms, and only startles awake when Laila parks outside the Lofts. Sometime during the drive back, the girls have called Jeremy and apprised him of the situation and somehow convinced him to meet them at campus. The sun is beginning to rise, and the three of them split up to go get ready for morning practice.
"I'm taking him with me," Jean announces, taking absolutely no objections on the matter. He isn't letting Jabberwocky out of his sight for a moment, not until he could guarantee the sickness had passed once and for all.
“If I had ovaries, I think they would’ve just burst,” Cody mutters in the locker room an hour later, and Xavier answers with an obnoxious wolf whistle.
Jean bares his teeth at them, rocking Jabberwocky closer. “If you wake him up, I will end your career and your bloodline.”
“Good to know this team’s weakness is Jean holding a baby,” Min observes as everyone continues to coo over Jean and the sick puppy.
“Alright, back off,” Jeremy calls, voice warm but threaded with an unmistakable layer of protectiveness as he drops his duffel onto a bench by the lockers. Jean shouldn't have been surprised at the lengths of Jeremy's fierce possessiveness of him once they began dating, but from the way his eyes soften and his shoulders ease the moment he catches sight of Jean, it’s painfully clear he cares just as deeply as Jean does.
Jean’s gaze stays locked onto Jeremy’s as he crosses the room to him, and something tender settles low in his stomach at the small smile on his captain's face.
“Hi baby.” Jean isn’t sure at first who he’s speaking to, but then Jeremy presses a quick kiss to Jean’s cheek. “You doing okay?”
“I’m not the one who’s sick,” Jean grumbles, even as he instinctively leans closer into Jeremy’s side.
“No,” Jeremy says, eyes warm with amusement, “but you are growling at anyone who tries to get within five feet of you and Jab.”
Jean scowls. “I don’t want them getting their nasty germs all over him. He is in a vulnerable state right now.”
Jeremy’s expression shifts, humor softening into something gentler. “Hey. You know it's going to be okay, right? He's a tough puppy, I know he’ll bounce back in a few days.”
Jean looks down at the bundle of blankets in his arms. “I just feel helpless,” he admits quietly, low enough that only Jeremy hears. “He is in pain, and I do not know how to help him.”
Jeremy strokes a gentle line down Jabberwocky’s tiny head. “You’re not the only one,” he admits. “I hate that I wasn’t here. I hate that I live so far away from you. I wish I’d been there the moment the two of you needed me.”
Jean is startled by the faint note of self-loathing in Jeremy’s voice. “Do not blame yourself,” he says softly. “You know I always wish for you to be close to us, but none of it is your fault.”
Jeremy nods quietly and then leans down to press a gentle kiss to Jabberwocky’s nose. Jean immediately shifts, offering Jabberwocky into his arms, and Jeremy wordlessly gathers the puppy close to his chest, rocking him back and forth.
“You should’ve seen the vet tech drooling all over Jean,” Cat says to Jeremy, smirking. She flutters her lashes obnoxiously in Jean's direction. “If you have any questions, give me a call.”
Jean rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “It is early, and she is delirious,” he mutters to Jeremy, who now has a small frown on his face.
"That sounds unprofessional," Jeremy notes mildly.
“Don’t worry,” Cat goes on gleefully, “your boy didn’t give him the time of day. He kept trying to get a date, but Jean was only interested in grilling him about his qualifications.”
Jean cannot believe how fast the conversation has derailed. “Why would I entertain that man when I have Jeremy?” he asks, genuinely baffled. Beside him, Jeremy goes pink to the tips of his ears.
“Lord, when will it be my turn,” Cody sighs dramatically.
“I’m literally right here,” Pat mutters back.
Jeremy gives Jean a searching look, warm with concern. “You sure you’re okay leaving him for practice?” Jean has not let Jabberwocky out of his sight since scooping him off his bed that morning. His eyes sweep the room of Trojans until they land on their most dependable assistant.
“Roberta,” he says, “will you watch him while I practice?”
Bobby brightens immediately, delighted to be entrusted with something so important. “Of course! I won’t let you down.”
“I only trust you with him, so do not hand him off to somebody else,” Jean warns, solemn. “Wash your hands with soap first. And come get me immediately if his condition worsens.”
“What about me? I love dogs.” Tony protests as Bobby sprints toward the sink.
Jean levels him with a withering look. “I once saw you trying to feed a pigeon a sock on the quad. You will stay ten feet away from him at all times, or you and I will have problems.”
Tony wilts like an overwatered plant but obediently keeps his distance.
Bobby returns at a run, hands freshly scrubbed, and Jeremy reluctantly surrenders Jabberwocky into her arms.
"Hi, Jabberwocky," she croons, "We're going to hang out while your daddies are busy at practice, okay?"
Jabberwocky lets out a wet sniff in response, and Jean immediately hands over a pack of tissues so she can wipe his nose. He passes her a bottle with a sipper lid next. "See if you can get him to drink some water too."
"Gotcha," she says cheerfully. "I'm going to take him over to the dugout. You guys carry on."
Jean’s heart twists painfully as he watches Bobby walk away with Jabberwocky tucked against her hip.
“Hey.” Jeremy catches the look on his face and gently pulls him into the empty shower room. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t…” Jean swallows, voice rough. “I am not… I am not cut out for this. No living thing should have to depend on me.”
Jeremy's expression freezes over with disbelief. He takes Jean’s hands, rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles. "Baby, that's not true. Tell me you don't honestly think that.”
Jean only shrugs helplessly, and Jeremy steps closer, refusing to let him look away. “You don’t see it, but you’re incredible with him. You didn’t even want Jabberwocky at first, and now you’re the one he reaches for, the one he feels safest with. And he's not the only one who feels that way."
He tucks Jean in against his chest, arms locking tight his waist. “It’s just who you are. You have so much love to give.” He presses a soft kiss to Jean’s temple, looking up at Jean with shimmering brown eyes. “You did everything right today. He’s going to be okay because of you. You take such good care of all of us.”
Jean forces down a swallow, throat tight with emotion, and manages a faint nod.
Jeremy’s shoulders ease, and his smile warms like sunlight. “Good,” he says, his voice tender. “I’m staying over tonight. I’ll make something up for my mom, but I can’t leave. Not when—”
“Your family needs you,” Jean finishes, voice soft, as if he’s afraid to break the fragile moment between them.
Jeremy’s breath stutters, eyes going impossibly gentle. “Yeah,” he murmurs.
He reaches up, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of Jean’s neck, guiding him down until their lips meet in a tender, searching kiss, soft and full of devotion. When he pulls back, his voice is barely a breath. "I love you; you know that right?"
"And I you." Jean cups Jeremy’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheek before he presses a lingering kiss to the corner of Jeremy’s lips. "As much as I would like nothing more than to stay here with you, we should head out before they send Tony to come check up on us again. We scarred him enough the first time."
Jeremy laughs under his breath, laces their fingers together tight, and they leave the room still wrapped in the warmth of each other's love.
That night, all three of them end up tangled together in Jean’s bed. Jabberwocky's fever has finally dropped to a normal range, though he’s still needy and tucked against the two of them.
“He is such a bed hog,” Jean grumbles as the little dog twists around, shoving his way into the warmest spot between them.
“Let him be,” Jeremy teases, nudging Jean’s knee with his own. “He’s sick!”
"He's milking it," Jean mutters under his breath, only to be rewarded by a paw straight to his gut.
“That’s it,” Jean declares, already trying to sit up. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“Nooooo,” Jeremy whines dramatically, slinging an arm around Jean’s waist to stop him from going anywhere. Jabberwocky lets out a matching wail, pawing at him until Jean grudgingly lowers himself back down onto the bed. Jeremy instantly presses close, tucking his forehead against the curve of Jean’s shoulder, and Jabberwocky happily curls into the space between their chests.
For all that Jean pretends to be annoyed, his hand instinctively drifts to the back of Jeremy’s neck, thumb brushing against the soft hair at his nape.
“Can’t wait to get a full night of sleep,” Jeremy sighs. “I can’t sleep well without the two of you anymore.”
Jean hums, entirely earnest. “Then we will sneak in through your window every night. N’est-ce pas, Jabberwocky?”
As though he’s already fluent in French, Jabberwocky lets out a tiny, determined yip in response.
“You’ve been having one-sided conversations with him again, haven’t you?” Jeremy asks, amused.
“Non,” Jean replies, offended. “He responds. How else will he learn?”
"How else will he be a Moreau?" Jean turns his head to study Jeremy, and words catch in his throat when he sees the unmistakable longing in Jeremy’s unguarded expression.
“You are learning as well,” Jean says lightly, as something warm flickers to life inside his chest. “The same rules apply. All Moreaus speak French.”
For a moment Jeremy just stares at him, speechless, and Jean begins to wonder if he severely jumped the gun. But then, even in the dark, he sees the flush bloom across Jeremy’s cheeks.
“Oh,” Jeremy whispers, sounding dazed. “Jean, I…”
"You do not have so say anything," Jean tells him gently. "You mentioned you did not like your last name, that is all."
“That’s all?” Jeremy repeats, disbelieving, and reaches over Jab’s warm little body to cup Jean’s jaw. “Like you aren’t offering me everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Jabberwocky whines pointedly from between them—okay dads, bedtime now.
Jeremy meets Jean’s eyes and presses a kiss to their puppy's head, before reaching out to lace their fingers together between their bodies.
And that is how Jean falls asleep: his fingers in Jeremy’s, Jabberwocky curled between them, surrounded by the warmth of his little family.