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Jean's got Jeremy on the back of his motorcycle when he decides enough is enough. The feeling of Jeremy's arms wrapped around him is the best feeling he's ever had — Jeremy trusting Jean to keep him safe, getting on the bike even though it pretty much terrifies him, and being content with wrapping around him like a koala bear is invigorating. Jean drives carefully, and he doesn't go fast like he does when he's driving next to Cat, but it's still a great drive.
But he needs to end this. He can't keep it up. Either way, Jean needs to tell Jeremy how he feels and figure out what he wants.
So instead of pulling off to the pier like they'd planned originally, Jean finds a much more secluded spot. Jean always wants to call it a cove, but he doesn't know if that's right. He and Cat come here sometimes and they spread a blanket down on the sandy ground and watch the tide. It's high up, so they're nowhere actually near the water even though they can hear the waves, and it's nice. It's a tiny little flat surface that no more than maybe three or four people could fit on, and even then, they'd have to press close or risk stumbling on the rocks. When it's just him and Cat, or now, just him and Jeremy, it's cozy without being suffocating.
When Jean kills the engine, Jeremy gets off the bike and Jean follows. They put their helmets on the bike and Jean leans against it while Jeremy looks around. He's never seen this little area before. Jean watches him look at the view, taking in his surroundings, and then Jeremy looks over at Jean. His expression is open, warm, and content, like it almost always is when he looks at Jean. Jean almost has to look away under the guilt that's eating at him, knowing what he has to say could ruin everything.
But the rules have changed, after all. And Jean's tired of pretending they haven't.
So when Jeremy asks, "How'd you find this place?" Jean doesn't answer. He knows Jeremy isn't asking because he's burning with the need to know; Jeremy's just nervous and babbling to fill the silence. Jean knows they can both feel the tension that came with this privacy and proximity.
Jean pushes off his bike and slowly walks toward him. Jeremy doesn't back up, but his eyes do widen just a bit. He tries to school his expression quickly, but Jean's already seen it. He's sure his expression is telling all his secrets, too.
When Jean is too close for Jeremy to pretend like he doesn't know what's coming, Jean stops. And he takes a deep breath. "Jeremy," he says. And then he hesitates. This is terrifying. How do people do this?
Just as he's ready to open his mouth again, Jeremy speaks. "Jean, I don't -"
But if Jean waits, Jeremy will ruin it. He can see it. Jean needed one look at his face and knew Jeremy was going to deny what they both know is true. The thing is, Jean knows Jeremy wants him the same way Jean wants Jeremy. He knows. Neither of them hide it. But Jean suspects Jeremy is waiting on Jean to make the first move, rather than let Jeremy make it for him.
This endlessly considerate, self-sacrificing, infuriating man is drowning in guilt that isn't his to swim in. And Jean is tired of letting Jeremy deny himself everything he wants. Jean knows that's what he's doing, because Jean's been doing the same this entire time, too.
So Jean speaks over him. "I need be honest with you," he blurts out before Jeremy can tell him not to. He doesn't know if Jeremy really doesn't want to have this discussion, or if he still stupidly thinks Jean's feelings are due to gratitude or the chain of command under his captaincy. Either way, Jean knows it's not true. He's been staring at Jeremy since he was fifteen years old, and meeting him, knowing him, playing under his lead, has only made Jean's feelings bloom underneath the blanket of admiration. "And I need you to listen to me, and not get lost inside your head."
Jeremy laughs shortly, clearly surprised by the brutal honesty. "Wow, Jean, tell me how you really feel," he tries to tease, but his voice is a little hoarse.
"I am trying," Jean responds. Jeremy's lips part, and Jean takes a deep breath. "I am Jean Moreau," he begins. Jeremy frowns, but nods, and Jean knows he doesn't understand, but he keeps speaking anyway. "For many years, my name has meant that I was not allowed to want. Anything. I was to — do my duty to my family, and continue our legacy and our…place…in -- in the family business." He hopes Jeremy understands what he can't bring himself to say fully. "…And that meant that I could not have anything for myself. It was not safe to have, it was less safe to look, and it was…laughably dangerous to even let myself want, even if I never spoke my desires aloud. Nothing has ever been meant to be mine."
Jeremy swallows thickly, and Jean takes another breath. "And then I came here," he says. Jeremy's inhale is sharp, and his eyes are wide and fixed on Jean. Jean sees the apprehension on his face, warring with the hope, and the efforts Jeremy is making to try and hide both, to give Jean his I'm listening to what you have to say expression.
"And I learned that there are things worth living for, and worth appreciating. Things I -" Jean swallows. He stares into Jeremy's brown eyes. "Things that I am allowed to want."
"Jean," Jeremy whispers. But he doesn't say anything else.
"A cool evening breeze on my face," Jean forces himself to list. It's the most vulnerable he has ever been, and he hopes Jeremy understands. Jean has never shared this with anyone, not even Renee. "Rainbows." He gestures to his motorcycle. "The freedom of open roads." He hesitates again, and then says, "Father figures." Jeremy's face softens. "…Friends," he says next. And then he just. Stares. At Jeremy.
Jeremy takes a shuddering breath, and he says shakily, "That's a good list." Jean nods, but continues saying nothing.
He's been working on letting himself want, sure. But how does he let himself take? No, that's not right. That's not what he wants to do with Jeremy. How does he let himself…ask?
"There is one more thing I…want. To be allowed to want."
"Jean," Jeremy says again, a little more urgently.
Jean hums in acknowledgement, but Jeremy seems to be lost for words. He says nothing, staring up helplessly at Jean. His facade starts falling from his face, and Jean glimpses the naked yearning he's been holding back out of some imagined sense of responsibility for Jean.
So Jean leans in. He does it slowly, he gives Jeremy plenty of time, and he keeps his eyes open so he knows he's not misreading Jeremy's desires. And he sees Jeremy tilt his face up and lean in, too.
And then Jeremy freezes, and then he looks down, shaking his head at himself, like he thinks he's being stupid. The moment crumbles apart."I'm sorry," he says to the dirt beneath their shoes.
Jean catches Jeremy's chin between his thumb and forefinger. After a split second of giving Jeremy the option to pull away, Jean lifts Jeremy's face to his. Jeremy lets him. When their eyes meet, Jeremy's breath hitches. His beautiful eyes are wide and round and filled with so many emotions it would terrify Jean if he weren't feeling them, too. Jeremy's hands are shaking at his sides.
Jean swallows and remembers when Cat talked about being with Laila, and about Cody, Pat, and Ananya. It had been so long ago, but the sentiment had struck him so deeply, he's never been able to forget it. "If you don't want something enough to fight for it, you don't deserve to have it," she'd said. And then, to Laila, she'd said, "You were worth the risk."
But Jeremy is worth the risk, and damn it, Jean going to fight for him. He still isn't sure he'll ever deserve him, but he will try.
So Jean gently shakes Jeremy's chin and asks, "What do you want?"
Jeremy sighs a little helplessly and his eyes dart back and forth between Jean's eyes. He shakes his head, but not enough to dislodge Jean's hand. "Jean, I -" He sighs, cutting himself off.
"What do you want, Jeremy?" Jean asks when he doesn't continue.
"I don't want to push you," he says desperately.
"Tell me," Jean asks. Implores. Begs, even.
"I can't," Jeremy whispers. His eyes are filled with anguish, and Jean wishes he could understand.
"Can't what?" He demands quietly. "Can't decide? Can't accept it?"
"I can't say it," Jeremy says hoarsely. It's almost a whisper, and he looks at Jean like he's pleading for his life, but Jean doesn't understand. He knows Jeremy feels this way, too. "I can't say it, Jean, I'm sorry," he continues. He wraps his hands around Jean's wrist like he's afraid Jean will pull away. "I promised myself I wouldn't — wouldn't influence you."
Jean wants to scoff in frustration, wants to walk away, wants to push Jeremy's face out of his hand. But more than that, he wants this look off Jeremy's face. He should never look so distressed. Jean realizes Jeremy can't allow himself to make the first move. Maybe there would always be a little voice in the back of his mind, wondering if he'd pressured Jean into it if he says something first.
So Jean swallows and takes in a ragged breath, letting it out shakily. He slides his hand over to cup the side of Jeremy's face, and his heart races when Jeremy leans lightly against his palm, eyes closing for just a beat too long to be a blink. Jeremy's hands tighten on Jean's wrist, holding him there. It makes Jean fight.
"I know what I want, Captain," he breathes.
Jeremy's voice trembles when he asks, "What do you want, Jean?" His breathing shakes and one hand falls to grip the bottom hem of Jean's shirt. It clenches the fabric like he's a child afraid to lose his parent in a crowd.
Jean looks carefully into Jeremy's eyes and he swallows reflexively. Compulsively. Fuck, this is scary. He's so fucking nervous. He just — he wants Jeremy so bad. He watches Jeremy lick his bottom lip, and he knows Jeremy's just as nervous and it shouldn't help, it should make this so much worse, but it does, somehow.
Quietly, Jean speaks. "I want -" you, he almost says, but he stops himself, because that's not…what he wants to say. He wants him, yes, but it sounds too…much like something Jeremy could misconstrue. Like he might think Jean only means he want to take him to bed. And — and Jean does want that, eventually, sure, but he doesn't want Jeremy to think that's all he wants.
So he starts over. "I want to be with you," he says.
And Jeremy — Jeremy sort of…gasps. And then he says nothing. Jean stares, trying not to show exactly how close he is to blurting nevermind and walking away. If Jeremy doesn't say something so fucking fast -
"Nobody has ever said that to me before," Jeremy says. He tries to whisper it, but his voice breaks.
Jean's eyebrows furrow as he stares at Jeremy, confused and incredulous and angry and heartbroken for him. This human embodiment of sunshine, everyone either wants him or wants to be him, and many want both, but he's never heard that? "What…do you mean?" Jean asks, allowing this diverted path of conversation only because he needs to make sense of it.
Jeremy licks his lips and he laughs a little sadly. "It's just — it's always just… 'I want you'," he says. "Or, like, 'I want your body', or 'I want your m-'" Jeremy blushes and looks away, then back to Jean after a moment. Jean swallows. "Well. You know what I mean. It's just…I don't know. I've never, um, heard that anyone just wants to…to be with me."
Jean isn't sure if the tone in Jeremy's voice is good or bad. Has he misunderstood what Jean wants? Does he think Jean only meant he wants Jeremy's companionship and company? Jean can't risk a translation error getting in the way.
So he steps just a little closer, and Jeremy's head tilts up just a little bit more, and his fist tightens even more on Jean's shirt. Jean can feel how he pulls at the fabric slightly. "Jeremy," he says, and licks his lips nervously. Jeremy's eyes track the movement, and then flick back up to his gaze. "I — I do want all of those things," he admits. "Eventually, I mean. Yes. I — am attracted to you. I…do want you, and your body, and your…" he trails off meaningfully, and they both blush, and they both laugh a little nervously. "But I don't…just want you that way. I want…all of you. I want to be with you."
Because he wants Jeremy's heart. His kindness. His companionship, yes, and his partnership. He wants his humor, and his anger and his hurt. He wants his smiles and his frowns. His leadership, his steady presence at Jean's back and at his side. He wants Jeremy's brown gaze on him, his dimples directed his way. He wants Jeremy's warm hands. He wants to pretend Jeremy's praise on the court means nothing even though it warms Jean's belly. He wants Jeremy to be annoyingly perky in the mornings when Jean still feels a little bit dead inside. He wants Jeremy from his head to his toes, inside and out, yes. But he also just wants to be with him. To make him happy, and share in that joy. Together.
He seems to have broken Jeremy, because he doesn't respond. He just…stares. Jean starts to grow concerned when Jeremy stays silent for longer than Jean thinks is strictly necessary, but he forces himself to stand tall and not give up hope. There is no doubt in his mind that Jeremy feels the same way he does.
So he waits. And he waits. And he waits some more, and finally he breaks, but instead of giving up, he strokes Jeremy's cheek with his thumb, and Jeremy closes his eyes, his brows creasing. Gently, Jean asks, "Do you want this, too?"
Jeremy's eyes snap open and he looks straight into Jean's soul. And he nods. His eyes are terrified, like he can't let himself believe this is real lest he get his hopes dashed.
Jean feels his lips curve into a tiny smile and he asks him again. "Do you want this, too, Jérémie?"
Jeremy lets out the tiniest sound, nearly swallowed up by the distant waves breaking on the shoreline. But he doesn't look away, and Jean couldn't if he tried. Finally, he whispers, "Yes."
Jeremy said yes.
It's the only think Jean can think. The sound of Jeremy's yes plays in his mind on a loop. Jeremy wants him, too. And of course Jean already knew that, but now he's finally said it, and what's more, he means it.
He sucks in a sharp breath and Jeremy finally blinks. Jean is still holding his face in his hand, and Jeremy is staring up at him, clutching his wrist and shirt like a lifeline while Jean stares right back, eyes greedily drinking in this beautiful sun-kissed, freckled face that belongs to a man who wants him back, who cares about him like nobody ever has before. A man Jean cares about like nobody before.
Overcome with emotions and tired of trying to find the right words, Jean's voice cracks embarrassingly when he asks, "May I kiss you, Jeremy?"
Jean barely gets the words out when Jeremy breathes, "Please."
Jean bites his lip, just a moment of nerves. He's a little afraid he won't be good at this, but Jeremy looks tortured at the waiting, so Jean lets his other hand slide across Jeremy's cheek, too, cupping his breathtaking face in both his big hands. Jeremy blinks up at him and Jean feels like he's holding the world.
And then Jean just…goes for it.
He can't wait any longer, and Jeremy doesn't want him to. He needs to feel Jeremy's soft lips against his. He needs to know what it feels like to be loved, and loved on.
He leans down in an urgent rush, though he's careful not to move too fast, and presses their lips together. His eyes are squeezed shut — in nerves, and excitement, and in need. He hears the breath Jeremy sucks in through his nose, and how he holds it for a second, lips still against Jean's. Jean feels a split second of terror that he's already messed up, but then Jeremy whimpers, and the hand that's been clutching the hem of his shirt slides up his stomach and rests on his chest. And then Jeremy breathes out a sigh against Jean's face, a long steady puff of air brushing over his nose and cheek. His fingers scratch lightly at Jean's pectoral, like Jeremy just needs to touch.
This is better than anything else Jean will ever experience in his life, he realizes.
He will never feel this exact rush of feelings coursing through his body ever again. Every moment of his life has led up to this very one, standing on a secluded beach cliff kissing Jeremy, the movement of his soft, pillowy lips against his, the truth of their shared feelings out in the open at last.
Jeremy pulls back just an inch or so, and Jean has just a moment to think it's over already? with lament. But then, Jeremy's throwing his arms around Jean's shoulders and pulling him closer, pullling him down just that little bit separating their height difference now that Jeremy's surging up to stand on his toes.
Jean wraps an arm around Jeremy's waist and Jeremy's lips move against his again, parting just a bit, just enough to surround Jean's bottom lip. Jean doesn't know this part of kissing, has no idea what he's supposed to do in return, but he's happy to let Jeremy lead in this and show him. Jeremy whimpers a tiny bit on his next exhale, lips sliding against Jean's bottom lip as they separate, only for Jeremy to tilt his head forward again and surround his lip once more. Jean realizes it's a pattern, it's a dance. It's a give-and-take, a push-and-pull between their mouths, and he chases Jeremy next. He pulls Jeremy's bottom lip between his own and nips at it lightly. Jeremy makes a happy-sounding noise, and Jean feels proud of himself. He's always been a fairly fast learner.
Jeremy's fingers gently thread their way into Jean's hair. Jean feels it and nearly tenses before he remembers he's with Jeremy, who would never hurt him on purpose, who knows well that he doesn't like his hair pulled on by now. Jeremy, who is always looking at Jean's hair, always fidgety when Laila brushes and plays with his hair while they watch TV. Jean realizes Jeremy has always wanted to touch his hair, and then he realizes he wants Jeremy to touch his hair. He wants to be touched in this tender way.
So he lets him. And it's new, and exciting, and distracting — so much so that Jean gasps a little when Jeremy's tongue slides along his bottom lip. He pulls Jeremy closer, though, arm firm around his waist, and Jeremy breathes out heavily from his nose. Jean feels it against his cheek and it's — he wants more, impossibly more. Their hips come together as their bodies collide fully now, and Jean is overcome with emotion at how good this can feel — kissing, sharing intimacy like this with someone who cares about you — how tender it can be.
Jean still isn't completely sure what he's doing or what he's meant to be doing, but he doesn't panic anymore. He's too invested in chasing the happiness he's sharing with Jeremy in the form of his lips, his hands in his hair, Jean's arm around his waist and his hand cupping Jeremy's cheek. He holds him close and basks in Jeremy combing his fingers through his hair. He allows Jeremy's tongue to slide along his lip, allows Jeremy's hands and forearms pull him down, closer, easier to reach. In turn, Jean's fingers are holding Jeremy's face like it will shatter if he lets go, and his arm becomes an iron bar around his back, afraid to let him move away, refusing to let this bliss end.
Bravely, Jean licks out, the tip of his tongue flicking against the center of Jeremy's upper lip, and Jeremy's mouth opens up before him. Jean hesitates, unsure.
"Like this," Jeremy murmurs against his lips, panting softly, and Jean lets him, following his lead. The first slide of Jeremy's tongue against Jean has him feeling dizzy and his knees threaten to buckle at the pure physical sensation, much less the mental and emotional realization that he is kissing Jeremy with tongue. Jean blushes at his own juvenile thoughts, feeling like an idiot pre-teen, but then Jeremy groans, apparently feeling something similar about it.
Jean leans in further, wanting more of that feeling, and Jeremy yields, letting him push more. Jean doesn't quite get the timing of the lips-open-tongue-out-tongue-back-in-lips-closed-repeat pattern the first few times, but he's determined to get it right. In any case, Jeremy doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he rewards him with another sweet moan and with his chest arching against Jean's and arms pulling him closer, even though their bodies are plastered together.
Jean isn't sure how long they stand together like this, how long they kiss each other, how long time stops and waits for them to share this moment in stillness. But when Jeremy pulls away, gasping, and Jean chases his lips again, Jeremy laughs and continues pulling away, pressing a hand to his chest. "We need to breathe, Jean," he chides through an amused, exhilarated-sounding chuckle.
Jean only then realizes that he's dizzy and that the colors blurring his vision are probably because he hasn't been breathing enough. He'd just assumed they were the fireworks that he only sees with Jeremy now.
He opens his eyes and sucks in a breath when he registers the way Jeremy looks right now. His face is flushed, his lips swollen and wet and the darkest pink Jean's ever seen them. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose are pink, making his freckles stand out even more. Jean presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes, breathing Jeremy in.
"That was…"
"Perfect," Jeremy pants, nodding. Their foreheads rub together and Jean realizes they're both sweating a little. He blows out a breath and doesn't respond, because he has nothing to add. Jeremy's already said it. "…Right?" Jeremy asks, and Jean immediately opens his eyes and straightens because Jeremy's voice sounds…nervous?
"Yes," Jean says with the softest smile. He leans in and presses their lips together chastely, now that he knows he can. "It was perfect."
Jeremy sighs in relief and pulls him in for a hug. Jean holds him tight, resting his temple against the crown of Jeremy's head. In his head, there is nothing but peace. The questions will come, he knows — Are they dating now? Does this mean they're boyfriends? Are they exclusive? Are they a secret? How will sex work between them? — but Jean just holds Jeremy and hums a quiet laugh when he starts swaying them like they're dancing. They can figure everything out from here. But for now, this is good.
Jean is never letting go.