Archive of Our Own

1. Jeremy

It was six forty five and he was nearing his first breakdown. A new record, if his friends asked, and something he would manically laugh about later in the day.

His beautiful, dear baby, his coffee maker, had officially given up on life this morning.

After the week he'd had, Jeremy's first reaction was to be jealous of the small, junky machine. It had the opportunity to simply quit existing and suffer no repercussions. Jeremy had hundreds of lives depending on his almost soulless body in just a week.

His second reaction was to freak out and collapse into a heap on the floor, his briefcase falling with a thud against his side and making his small tabby cat jump into the air. At any other time, the cute reaction from the little ball of fluff would have made his morning better. This time, Jeremy only stared at Sammie as he curled up beside his thigh, a lone tear slipping from his right eye and onto the carpet.

After the pathetic display of the morning, one that cost Jeremy a precious fifteen minutes of his time, he decided that the only thing capable of fixing his mood was a good cup of coffee from the overpriced coffee shop near the clinic. He left Sammie with a kiss on the forehead and an apology for the dramatic fall earlier, then reached the coffee shop within twenty minutes despite the miserable weather.

He shook out his umbrella and left it in a corner by the entrance, swiping at the stray droplets on his new coat with a grumble. He immediately fixed his expression once his gaze met the owner's.

Mr. and Mrs. Santos were an elderly couple that were, coincidentally, Cat's aunt and uncle. They had managed to keep their coffee shop alive and thriving solely because everybody was willing to pay any amount of money for their coffee. Jeremy had a soft spot for them, even if they had yet to tell him where exactly they got their beans from, no matter how hard he tried to force the information out of them.

"Oh dear, you really need to get a bigger umbrella."

Jeremy gave Mrs. Santos the best smile he could muster as he approached the counter. "It'll only rain in the morning."

She only pursed her lips and reached over the counter. Jeremy could feel her thumb brush softly beneath his eye, where he knew the dark circles were worse than ever.

After she was done analysing him, she pulled back with a short sigh.

"I'll give you an extra shot."

Jeremy watched her silently while she made the coffee, only offering small comments when prompted. He briefly vented about the stress of the week, and when Mrs. Santos asked for more details, he told her about yesterday's horrible surgery. Her replies always soothed him, and today was no different. He watched her disappear into the storeroom for more almond milk with a small smile and a lighter feeling in his chest.

While he waited, he looked around the small space, fully convinced he'd been alone until his eyes landed on a figure tucked away in the left corner of the shop. Jeremy's phone was buzzing in his pocket, but he ignored it in favor of studying the man bent over what looked like... notes?

Jeremy wasn't really focused on those.

Instead, his gaze locked onto the intricate mix of tattoos decorating the man's arm.

They shifted with every movement as the man ruffled his own hair in apparent frustration, and Jeremy could have sighed dreamily at the sight of some eye candy after what felt like years.

Instead, he let out a loud, childish scream when someone exclaimed beside him, "Boo!"

Jeremy's glare was met with the satisfied laughter of Mrs. Santos. In his embarrassment, he dropped the cash on the counter, snatched up his coffee, and rushed for his umbrella. He ignored the cackling behind him and left before he could look back at the man in curiosity, knowing he had to have heard Jeremy's weird noise in the otherwise quiet shop.

He hadn't even taken four steps before he felt droplets land on his cheek. Jeremy looked up to find that a small hole had formed near the center of his umbrella.

He blinked at it in shock, looked down at the droplet that fell onto the lid of his coffee, and sighed.

2. Jean

This lollipop was maybe one of the worst things he had ever tasted in his life. He had no idea how little kids were legally allowed to have these things in their homes, much less eat them whenever they wanted. Jean had only really taken it because Jonah had looked up at him with that particular look of awe he always carried in his brown eyes whenever he looked at Jean, proudly presenting him with three of the small sugar monstrosities.

He already had a weak spot for the kid. It was no surprise that Jean had accepted the sweets with a small smile and assured him that he would try them. Case in point: Jean currently wincing around a lemon lollipop as he waited for the light to turn green.

He would not, of course, tell Jonah that he absolutely hated his gift. Jean would thank him again the next time he saw him and tell him that the peach one had been his favorite. A lie, because it was the first peach flavored thing he had ever tasted and actively disliked, and he still did not know how he was supposed to recover from that particular betrayal. It was a small thing, but anything was worth it if it helped maintain the kid's good mood.

Every week seemed to be getting harder for Jonah, and Jean had yet to come up with a good way to bring up the subject with his parents.

Jonah had been consistently staying later at the school, spending extra time there when he had no real reason to, doing his homework in a chair beside Jean's desk while Jean prepared next week's lectures. He always seemed content to be there, making small conversation whenever Jean paused long enough to entertain it, only showing any real distress when he had to say goodbye after someone finally came to pick him up.

The light changed to yellow on the opposite side of the street and Jean let out a deep sigh, tightening his grip on the grocery bags as he stepped off the curb. He had barely taken two steps before a rush of air and a loud beep had him stumbling backward in shock.

His heart lurched painfully in his chest as he fought to catch his breath, staring after the bicycle that was already speeding away. The person riding it twisted around long enough to shout an apology over his shoulder, but quickly pedaled faster before Jean could even think of an insult to throw back.

Jean frowned after the blur of blond hair and the bag that looked one sharp turn away from tumbling out of the basket attached to the back of the bike, grumbling under his breath as the man continued around the corner.

"Freak."

At that exact moment, his teeth cracked through the shell of the lollipop and a burst of lemon filling flooded his mouth. The liquid was somehow both so sour that it made his gums ache and so sweet that Jean physically winced, his face twisting in immediate disgust.

The cyclist was promptly forgotten as Jean hurried across the street in search of somewhere to wash the horrible taste out of his mouth.

3. Jeremy

For how much Jeremy had complained about the plan, the main bookstore in the city was ten times prettier than he had imagined. After what had been roughly four back to back arguments with Laila about his "not having a hobby and no, going on dates is not a hobby" situation slowly ruining his life, Jeremy had begrudgingly accepted that maybe he should learn a new language whenever he was not actively being assaulted by his job.

Laila had also suggested joining a running club or picking up a sport, but Jeremy barely had time to make it to the gym three times a week, so learning a new language it was.

"Your whole life cannot be your job, Jeremy," was the last thing he heard before being kicked out of his best friend's house the day before. After some online digging, because Jeremy also did not have the time to join actual classes, he discovered that aside from watching television, reading a book he already knew well in the target language could help him get started.

So he had come to the largest bookstore in the city in search of any of the three books he knew by heart, only in a language that was not English.

Embarrassingly enough, all three of those books were children's books, but thankfully the woman at the entrance had explained that the store was organized primarily by language and only then by genre. The last thing Jeremy needed after the week he'd had was to be spotted lurking around the children's section and be mistaken for a father, or worse, a weirdo.

Laila's deadpan expression was practically engraved into his brain as he browsed through the German section, only to immediately wince at the overwhelming number of history books and move on to Dutch on the opposite side. He did not recognize any of the titles there either, and with a sigh, moved to the next section.

After scouting several aisles dedicated to Nordic languages and developing the beginnings of a headache behind his left eye, Jeremy eventually found himself standing between the Italian and Portuguese shelves. He hummed thoughtfully as he scanned the titles, pausing over a Portuguese book with a particularly lovely cover. As he skimmed the first page, he found himself wondering if Spanish might be more interesting after all, regardless of Cat's repeated insistence that his accent was something just short of horrendous.

With the decision made, he closed the book, slid it back into place, and moved into the next aisle, where he was greeted by an entire wall of books in Spanish. He glanced over them thoughtfully, and when he turned to inspect the shelves on the opposite side of the aisle, he stopped in his tracks.

There, positioned almost perfectly at eye level, sat his favorite book from his childhood in a language that was decidedly not his own.

Le Petit Prince.

The Little Prince was the book his mother had read to him more than thirty times when he was young, back when she had still looked at him and seen something worth keeping. It was also the book Jeremy had read to Noah countless times when things became too loud around the house and smaller hands tugged insistently at his sweater, asking him to come hide in their room.

The sight alone made something sting behind his eyes.

He had left his only copy behind in his mother's house when he left for medical school and never returned for it.

Then, almost like magic, after his first successful surgery on a child barely two years old, he had received another copy as a gift from the boy's family. The mother had smiled at him through swollen eyes after nearly a full day of crying and pressed the book into his hands.

"It's his favorite," she had said softly. "Hopefully it'll remind you of him, and of what you did for us today."

Jeremy slid his thumb down the familiar blue lettering on the spine.

Le Petit Prince.

For a moment, he felt almost trapped in a trance. He knew right then that this was the book leaving with him today.

He hooked a finger over the top of the book and went to yank it from the bookshelf, only to immediately find resistance.

Jeremy frowned at it, pulling harder and huffing when it refused to move even a centimeter, but the next time he tugged at it he could not believe his own eyes, because instead of moving with his pull, the book moved against it, sliding farther into the shelf rather than out of it. He blinked, pulled again, and watched it retreat a second time before realization finally struck him.

There was another person on the other side of the bookshelf trying to get the exact same book.

Jeremy grumbled under his breath, pulling at the book with more force. Almost mockingly, it dragged back with enough strength to make him stumble a step forward. This happened twice more, and though the person on the other side was clearly stronger than him, Jeremy was not willing to give up the book after all the memories it had stirred up within him.

On the next pull, however, there was suddenly no resistance from the other side, and Jeremy stumbled backward in shock, crashing into the Spanish shelf with a loud whoosh.

When he blinked his eyes open, it was to the sight of two widened gray eyes staring at him through the gap in the bookshelf where the book had been. Jeremy felt his heart skip a beat and willed his gaze to focus, but he did not last more than a second before a voice made his head whip to the right.

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

It was the woman from the front desk, blinking up at him like Jeremy had suddenly grown three heads and a tail. Jeremy stuttered something down at her, glancing back toward the shelf, but whatever noises he had been trying to make died in his throat when his eyes landed on the empty space on the other side, the man nowhere to be seen.

A chill ran down his spine and Jeremy found himself wondering if he had imagined the whole thing, his eyes scanning down the aisle and his ears straining for the sound of footsteps fading into the distance, but all he heard was, "Do you need help checking that out?"

Jeremy blinked at the older woman, held back a sigh at her still concerned expression, and mustered the best smile he could manage.

"Yes, please."

4. Jean

For reasons unknown even to himself, Jean had agreed to go on a blind date for the first time in his life. Call it the loneliness that came with moving to a new city three months ago, the health scare his dog had given him the week before, or the fact that the most interesting interaction he had had with another person recently involved fighting over a book through a bookshelf, but he had somehow willingly agreed to this.

The whole thing had been arranged by his coworker, Catalina Alvarez, his counterpart in the school's language program. She taught Spanish and was one of the most beautiful women Jean had ever seen in his life, competing only with his dear friend Renee back in New York and Catalina's own wife, who took the time every afternoon to deliver her lunch along with a kiss on the cheek.

Jean would not have called the woman his friend, but he was fairly certain she considered him one ever since the day they met. Catalina had taken to Jean the way a duck took to a duckling, forcing him to sit with her during lunch, dragging him into conversations, and relentlessly attempting to gossip with him about the other professors. For the first few weeks, those lunches had consisted mostly of Jean eating in silence while she rambled beside him with no stop button in sight.

Despite his short answers and generally cold demeanor, Jean found himself somewhat appreciative of the effort she put into including him, catching him up on changes to school regulations, introducing him to the faculty, and opening up about her own concerns regarding some of the students. Her loud personality came with a surprising openness, and before long Jean found himself sharing some of his own concerns in return, a development that had surprised both Catalina and himself.

She had mentioned her very handsome, very accomplished, very kind best friend many times before she finally brought up the idea of setting them up. Jean had not cared enough to remember the man's name, and by the time Catalina mentioned the date for the third time and Jean finally asked for it, she had decided that his name would be a surprise too.

It had not truly hit Jean what he was doing until he found himself seated in the steakhouse Catalina had personally recommended. He was placing an alarming amount of trust in the idea that this man was normal based solely on three qualities provided by a coworker he had known for less than six months. To distract himself, he spent a good fifteen minutes drinking nearly an entire bottle of water and doing what Catalina referred to as "people watching," though in his case that mostly consisted of staring at servers weaving through the restaurant carrying what looked like thirty different cuts of meat on polished silver platters.

Jean did not know whether it was nerves or disgust, but seeing that amount of meat had him wondering if he should join his only friend and become a vegetarian.

Another fifteen minutes passed.

Then another, and then his date was officially very late.

Jean sighed and glanced down at his phone. It was true that he had arrived early, but that did not change the fact that the clock was glaring back at him with a bright eight thirty. Another fifteen minutes passed, a server brought him the end of a second bottle of water, and Jean finally gave in and texted his coworker, annoyed beyond belief.

Did not show.

Catalina replied almost immediately, as if she had been foolish enough to expect live updates throughout the date.

What?

Hold on.

Jean stared impatiently at the screen, his foot tapping so aggressively against the floor that he was surprised it had not worn a hole through it.

Five minutes later, another message appeared.

He's caught in a surgery. Says he probably won't make it... I'm so sorry, Jean.

Jean did not dignify that with a response. Instead, he flagged down the server and asked for the bill for his two bottles of water. He ignored the pitiful look the man gave him when he handed over his card, and ignored it again when he returned carrying a receipt smaller than Jean's hand.

By the time he stepped out of the restaurant, the back of his neck was burning with embarrassment.

His phone buzzed again.

Jean pulled it from his pocket, glanced once at the message from an unfamiliar number, blocked it immediately, and promised himself he would never do this again.

Hello! I apologize, I'm currently caught up at work. Rain check?

5. Jeremy 

"If my eyes are brown, then why do they look yellow there, Doc?"

Jeremy smiled at the kid leaning over his shoulder, his eyes wide as he stared at the screen of Jeremy's computer. The image of his eye currently displayed on the monitor reflected in his real ones, making the question even more comical to an already amused Jeremy.

"Similar to anything that's shined on with a bright light, it appears lighter than it actually is. Plus, the images are adjusted so we can look at everything more clearly." Jeremy pressed a button and lowered the exposure, muffling a laugh into his hand at the dramatic gasp that earned.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

Jeremy turned in his chair, smiling when the kid immediately sat back down in the visitor's chair, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He had a particular fondness for dad jokes. This would be the seventh one Jonah had told him during the appointment alone.

"Sure, surprise me." Jeremy shrugged.

"What do you call a dinosaur with no eyes?"

Jeremy fought hard not to laugh, instead carefully arranging his expression into one of complete seriousness, even lifting a hand to rub thoughtfully at his chin as if he were considering the question with the utmost care. After a few seconds of the performance, and with Jonah practically vibrating in his chair from his need to reveal the answer, Jeremy finally relented.

"I have no idea. What do you call it?"

"Do-you-think-he-saurus?" Jonah grinned triumphantly.

Jeremy could not contain his giggle at that, adding a few impressed claps and exaggerated oohs just to watch the grin stretch even wider across the boy's face.

After hearing two more dad jokes, he did one final check of the images before walking Jonah toward the office door.

"Everything looks good, Jonah. Just try not to spray paint your eye again. I'm sure you gave your parents quite the scare."

For a brief second, Jonah's expression faltered, and he suddenly looked much older than his years, but he quickly smoothed the look away and replaced it with a bright smile before Jeremy could think twice about it.

"Merci, Docteur."

The kid did not cease to surprise him. Jeremy was already certain the exchange would end up stuck somewhere in his brain, resurfacing days later when he was stressed or after dealing with a particularly chaotic patient.

Jeremy chuckled and reached out to affectionately ruffle Jonah's hair.

"Avec plaisir, kiddo."

Jonah flashed him one last brilliant smile before jogging down the hallway. Jeremy watched his small figure disappear down the corridor, only to stop beside a larger one crouched near the waiting area at the end of the hall, where parents and guardians usually sat during appointments.

At the sight of Jonah, the man opened his arms and pulled him into a hug before standing. Even from this distance, Jeremy could hear the boy's laughter as he buried his face in the man's neck, and he found himself smiling softly as he leaned against the doorway and watched them.

True to himself, Jeremy did not even last four seconds before giving the man an appreciative glance up and down.

Curly black hair. Definitely taller than Jeremy. Black rimmed glasses perched neatly on his nose. A pinstriped shirt tucked into black trousers that had Jeremy leaning a little harder against the doorframe. All of that, coupled with the way the man rubbed a soothing hand across Jonah's back before setting him gently back on his feet, had Jeremy nearly sighing aloud.

Lucky wife.

Jeremy watched them leave the clinic hand in hand, exchanging unintelligible murmurs as they disappeared through the front doors.

He bit his lip, stared at the now empty space for just long enough to become embarrassed with himself, and finally turned back toward his office.

The first thing he saw was a small green dinosaur plush sitting abandoned on one of the chairs.

Jeremy grabbed it with a start and immediately took off down the hallway. He heard a few nurses call after him and passed two families who turned toward him with confused noises, but he ignored everyone until he burst through the front doors and onto the street.

He looked frantically in both directions.

Nothing.

Jonah and his father were already gone.

Jeremy stood there panting, waiting for them to somehow appear out of thin air, but he was too late.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and after another moment he finally turned back toward the clinic, clutching the plush dinosaur against his chest as he let out a sharp exhale.

+ 1 Jean

Despite everybody's claims that Jean and his dog were made for each other, Jean thought they were quite different. Rocky, a black German Shepherd that Jean had rescued four years ago, was now five years old and somehow half the size of Jean. While they both appeared physically intimidating, Rocky had the exact opposite personality of Jean.

Cuddly, a people person, and tremendously active, the dog could not have been a worse example of Jean as a dog. It was the reason Jean could only muster an awkward smile whenever old ladies bent down to scratch behind Rocky's ears while saying, "You couldn't be more similar to your father, huh?"

Looking down at Rocky's wide grin, his tongue hanging out from how hard he'd been panting after running all over the park, Jean could not imagine they could be any more different. While the dog was practically brimming with happiness at the first sunny day they'd had in what felt like months, Jean could not wait to get back inside his humble abode, where the air conditioner was his favorite companion, second only to the ball of energy currently rolling around in the grass in front of him.

Jean rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, grimacing at the thin layer of sweat that had gathered there. He was about to admit defeat and attempt to persuade Rocky to go back home when a scene on the playground caught his attention.

It was a relatively normal thing to see. A kid was slowly making his way back up a slide, his mother following close behind and carefully watching every movement as he struggled to climb. When the kid's right foot slipped, they both tumbled all the way to the bottom, laughing as they landed tangled together.

Jean could not help but smile sadly at the sight, immediately reminded of his conversation with Jonah earlier that day. After the boy had opened up about his situation, about the glaring neglect from his family, Jean had officially agreed to keep him with him until the end of the school day whenever necessary, his heart both warm and shattered at the knowledge that he was what Jonah called a "safe space."

It broke him to know that a child who had barely turned eight even knew what that term meant. It had apparently shown on his face, because Jonah had reached over and squeezed his hand with the sort of expression a grandfather might wear while comforting someone.

Jean was so deep in thought about what the coming months would look like, and how exactly they would navigate all of this, that he only realized Rocky was missing when he heard the dog's very distinctive bark from somewhere in the distance. He glanced up with a start only to find Rocky sprinting full speed toward someone on the other side of the park.

With a curse, Jean immediately took off after him, shouting some of Rocky's favorite words in the hope that he might stop and turn back at the sound of his voice. Completely undeterred, Rocky only ran faster, fast enough that the person he was charging toward barely had time to turn and catch sight of a blur of black fur before they were knocked clean onto the grass.

Jean ran even faster, cursing even more. As he drew closer to the scene, he could have died from secondhand embarrassment, apologies falling nonstop from his lips as he took in the situation before him. Rocky was large enough that Jean could only see the lower half of the man's body squirming beneath him.

Thankfully, Jean could also hear laughter from beneath his dog, and judging by the way Rocky's head kept moving, the traitor was completely focused on giving the man the most thorough slobbery shower of his life.

Jean had to call Rocky's name at least ten more times before the dog finally seemed satisfied with the number of kisses he had bestowed upon his victim and rolled onto his side, immediately redirecting his attention to rubbing himself into the grass like a normal dog instead of tackling other strangers.

Jean glared down at him. Rocky stared right back with bright, mischievous eyes, his mouth curled into a grin as he continued trying to burrow his way to the center of the earth.

Jean tsked at the dog's cute face before turning to apologize once more to the stranger who was somehow still laughing despite having just been attacked by a dog more than half his size. Whatever repetition of I'm sorry that had been building in Jean's throat promptly died the moment he looked down, because of course Rocky had chosen to tackle the most beautiful man Jean had ever seen in his life.

Brown eyes the color of melted chocolate, sparkling beneath the afternoon sunlight. Blond curls falling delicately across his forehead. Twin dimples framing a gorgeous smile. A cheerful laugh spilling from petal pink lips and...

Were those freckles?

Jean's knees nearly gave out beneath him.

The beautiful stranger eventually stopped laughing, lifting a hand to brush away a stray tear that had escaped from laughing so hard, and then Jean found himself on the receiving end of those warm brown eyes as the man looked up at him, his laughter dying away almost immediately as his own eyes widened.

The only sounds between them were Rocky's happy panting and the rustle of grass beneath him.

Jean could not move.

He could not speak either, suddenly struck both breathless and wordless at the sight before him. He might have been embarrassed by the staring if the stranger had not seemed to be suffering through the exact same thing, a lovely blush slowly blooming across his tanned cheeks that made Jean feel as though he had been shot for the first time.

Jean only moved when the man finally did, pushing himself upright on his forearms, and almost instinctively Jean held out a hand to help him up. The stranger paused, his eyes flickering from Jean's face to the offered hand and back again before he finally accepted it, his fingers settling softly against Jean's own.

Someone might as well have dropped a lightning bolt directly onto the crown of Jean's head, and he could only hope the stranger had not felt him shiver as he tightened his grip and helped him to his feet.

Jean cleared his throat, finding it impossible to look directly into those beautiful doe eyes and instead focusing on the safer pair of brown doe eyes currently wagging their tail at his feet.

"I apologize. He... he has never done that before."

"Oh, that's alright! That was a fun surprise." The man's voice was every bit as sweet as his laughter. Jean felt as though someone was playing a particularly cruel joke on him.

The man apparently seemed to be suffering through a predicament similar to Jean's, because instead of looking at Jean, he was looking at Rocky. He smiled at the dog in such an endearing way, as though Rocky was the cutest thing he had ever seen, that Jean felt his heart slowly begin to give out on him. The man lifted a hand, and Rocky was there in an instant.

Jean watched him ruffle his dog's fur, cooing at him and calling him all sorts of endearments, and felt as though he had been shot a second time.

"He's very sweet." The man smiled down at Rocky.

Jean looked between the two of them.

He thought it was something that only happened in movies, but for one horrifying second he genuinely considered replying, Yes, yes you are.

Jean cleared his throat, his face heating at the thought.

"He is, yes."

It felt as though he had somehow said the wrong thing anyway, because the man smiled shyly and flushed a little deeper.

Jean had been so busy watching him shower Rocky with affection that he had not realized he had spent the past minute looking directly into the man's eyes without spontaneously combusting.

With this new realization in mind, he somehow gathered enough courage to hold out a hand.

"I'm Rocky. The dog is Jean."

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise and Jean immediately wished for death.

"Sorry. I meant I'm Jean. I am not Rocky. My dog's name is Rocky, not Jean. I am Jean. God, fuck."

Jean grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, dragging a hand over his face as though he could physically erase the last ten seconds from existence, while beside him Rocky barked once in a way that sounded suspiciously close to laughter.

To make matters worse, the gorgeous man was clearly trying not to laugh either, because Jean had distinctly heard the small puff of air that escaped through his pursed lips, and after a few moments of debating whether he could reasonably disappear into the woods and start a new life elsewhere, he finally forced himself to lower his hand.

The man was smiling at him.

Not laughing, but smiling the same smile he had given Rocky while scratching behind his ears, warm and fond and entirely too pretty for Jean's peace of mind.

"Nice to meet you, Jean."

His smile widened slightly as he glanced down at Rocky.

"And nice to meet you too, Rocky, not Jean."

Jean wanted to bury himself alive.

He was currently trying to determine whether three months was a socially acceptable amount of time to call out of work while recovering from the embarrassment of fumbling a conversation with what appeared to be an actual angel when the angel himself spoke again.

"I wish I had my cat with me so I could introduce us the same way, but my grumpy son prefers staying at home at all times, so this is all you get for now. I'm Jeremy."

Jeremy held out a hand, his grin widening as though he had not just unknowingly altered the course of Jean's entire afternoon.

Apparently Jeremy was not only beautiful and kind, but also funny and charming and somehow sweet enough to stay and have a conversation after witnessing the combined disaster that had been Jean and Rocky's introduction.

Jean shook his hand, his mind already scrambling to figure out how exactly he was supposed to ask for Jeremy's number without making a complete fool of himself for a second time.

Before he could even attempt it, Jeremy spoke again.

"If you really insist on apologizing for Rocky's behavior, I was actually on my way to get a coffee."

Jean answered so quickly he nearly interrupted him. "Of course. I'll buy you a coffee."

He paused for a second before adding, because apparently his mouth had become entirely disconnected from the rest of him, "Five coffees, even."

Jeremy's smile widened enough for his dimples to make another appearance and Jean's hand, which was somehow still wrapped around Jeremy's and had gone entirely unnoticed by his brain, twitched pathetically at the sight.

"I only drink one coffee per date."

Jean nodded automatically before his brain finally processed the sentence, and then his eyes widened as every single one of his thoughts abruptly came to a screeching halt.

"So five dates?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Jean immediately considered throwing himself into the nearest river. Before he could apologize, however, Jeremy chuckled softly.

"Hopefully more." He said it with enough cheek that Jean forgot how to breathe.

Then Jeremy turned that smile toward Rocky, who had been staring at both of them as though he were watching a particularly intense tennis match.

"Don't you agree, Rocky?"

Rocky barked twice, which happened to be Jean's own personal way of determining when the dog was saying yes.

Jean laughed then, properly laughed for the first time that afternoon, and when Jeremy tugged gently on his hand and started walking, throwing a gorgeous smile back over his shoulder while Rocky ran ahead of them in a doomed attempt to catch a butterfly drifting through the park, Jean found himself smiling too.

Jean tightened his hold on Jeremy's hand.

A strange thought crossed his mind then, the distinct feeling that this was not the first time he had seen Jeremy, that somehow their paths had already crossed before today, but the idea made little sense. Jean was certain he would have remembered someone with dimples like those, someone with a laugh like that, someone capable of making his heart forget its own rhythm after what felt like only seven minutes.

No.

Jean would have remembered someone like him.