#qui n'avance pas fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nekojitachan · 4 years

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OK, last of the owed fics from the @aftgremix challenge - this one is for @nikothespoonklepto who guessed which fic was mine and wanted soft jeaneil. Hopefully I got the request somewhat right - this is a prequel to Qui N’avance Pas, Recule (mind the warnings for the fic, some brief, not too explicit non-con in the first section which you can probably skip, just know that Neil and Jean escape from the Nest where they’re Ravens).

Think the only warnings for this fic are that it has vague references for canon events at the Nest - nothing explicit, nothing detailed, just that Neil (Nat/Nathaniel here) and Jean are very happy to not be there anymore. That and references to Neil’s past in Baltimore.

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Trickle

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“It’s not much, but it’s safe,” Chesare told them as he placed the keys he’d used to enter the small apartment on the kitchen counter. “There’s enough food for a couple days, linens in the closet, and we guessed about the clothes based on the information your family sent.” That was directed to Nat, who stood there with a too-blank expression on his face and still dressed in the ‘borrowed’ sweatshirt he’d taken from Howard. “They’ll check in on you soon enough once it’s safe, so try to stay inside as much as possible.” While he spoke, the man (Hatford associate?) reached into his denim jacket for his wallet, out of which he took a very impressive stack of euros. “This neighborhood is safe, too, but no point in creating trouble, yes? Only go out when necessary.”

Nat gave a slight nod. “We understand. My family’s helped us out a lot, we’re not about to be ungrateful after everything they’ve done.”

“Good,” Chesare grunted. “Then I’m done here.” His tone was curt, but he gave them a friendly grin before he turned to leave; Jean followed so he could lock and bolt the door behind the man, relieved to be alone with Nat at last. The past day was a blur to him, a domino effect of events with each one more implausible than the last – the practice session where he and Nat bested Riko and Kevin, Riko showing up in their room at the Nest to exact his revenge, Nat defending Jean with such violence and Jean daring to strike down Riko for his partner, them fleeing the Nest, Nat’s family helping them to leave the States and sneaking them into Marseilles of all places….

Jean couldn’t believe that he was back in France, that he was home, even if he was a wanted fugitive from a criminal syndicate. He was home, and his partner was at his side.

Literally.

He jumped in surprise when he turned to find Nat gazing up at him, beautiful pale blue eyes surrounded by dark circles since the little imp hadn’t slept at all in at least a day, not since… it had to be at least a day, since they’d gotten up for practice back at the Nest. Jean rubbed his eyes as he tried to factor in the different time zones for a moment then gave up. “Yes?”

“Let’s check out the place,” Nat said, his voice faint with exhaustion yet his French perfect as always, just like his Japanese and German and the Russian he’d begun to learn in the last few months. It was one of the many things that Jean adored about his partner (lover), that gift with languages, just like Nat’s (Nathaniel’s) passion and loyalty.

He could have left Jean behind in the Nest, could have run to his family on his own, which would have been safer, yet he’d kept Jean at his side the entire time, had stayed awake while Jean had eventually crashed from the stress of… of everything, and hadn’t been upset when told that they weren’t going to London but Marseilles instead.

Nat didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t reuniting with his family as long as they didn’t try to separate him from Jean.

“It’s bigger than our old room,” Jean teased as they looked around the small, one bedroom apartment; it was in an older part of Marseilles, so there were hot water radiators for heat, worn wooden floors, and lots of windows (they had a corner unit, thankfully, and were six floors up) to help cool it in the warmer months.

“Almost anything would be bigger than our old room,” Nat shot back as he yanked off the oversized blue hoodie he’d worn since leaving Edgar Allan and dropped it to the floor. “Let’s hope that the shower is decent because all I want right now is to scrub myself clean then go to bed.”

Jean was in agreement with that; he wanted to wash away the remainder of the Nest from his body, of the States and all the bad things which had happened there (as if it would ever be that easy), and pray that when they woke up that they could begin a new life together.

A little more searching revealed the linens and clothes which Chesare had mentioned; Jean placed a clean set of sheets and a duvet on the queen-sized bed which took up a good bit of the bedroom while Nat grabbed some towels and clothes.

Nat then took care to set aside the phone which Cindrich had given him before they'd left the States, which Stuart had used a time or two to call him, but otherwise they shed the outfits they'd been wearing with the intent of getting rid of them for good before they stepped into the old claw-foot bathtub together. Jean felt a stab in his chest upon sight of the numerous scars littering his partner's lithe body, along with the bruises which Riko and Tetsuji had inflicted over the last few days - injuries which he swore to himself they'd never get a chance to do so again.

It took a minute or two for the water to warm, the pipes noisy the first few seconds, but Nat pressed against Jean's side and smiled, the expression tired but true, as they huddled together in a bathroom which was all their own, a bathroom with a locked door and a shower curtain and a tub in which they could soak if they wanted.

A bathroom and an apartment which was all their own, if Nat's family could be trusted.

(A family which had gotten them out of the States, had gotten them away from the Moriyamas - the monsters to which Jean's family had sold him without a care, so he'd wait and see about these Hatfords.)

As exhausted and stressed as he was, Nat actually laughed when Jean insisted on washing his hair, and joked that Jean just wanted to drown him in the water so he could have the entire bed to himself.

"Don't give me any ideas," Jean chided as he carefully tilted his partner's head back to rinse out the rosemary-scented shampoo. "Besides, an imp like you would just come back to haunt me."

"Hmm, so true." Nat closed his eyes and slumped a little more against him with a bone-deep weariness. "I'd return the favor, but I can't reach the head of a tall bastard like you, my star."

"Me? I'm perfect," Jean sneered, and felt his heart race when Nat smiled at the familiar joke.

They probably should eat something, but they were so tired after the shower that once dried they pulled on the clean sweatpants and t-shirts (Nat's comically large) and after finishing the bed (more Jean than Nat), all but collapsed onto it. Something settled inside of Jean when he could pull his partner against his chest and wrap his left arm around Nat's waist, while Nat clutched the sheathed knife that Cindrich had also given him in his hands. "Get some rest," Jean ordered, not that he believed Nat could remain awake much longer.

"So bossy," Nat murmured, already well on his way to unconsciousness.

Jean wasn't sure how long they'd slept, just that he felt better - was starving but felt better - when they were jolted awake by the ringing of a phone. It took him a moment to realize it was the one given to Nat, that it wasn't one of their 'official' Raven phones (that Tetsuji monitored and they’d left behind), and by then Nat had sat up so he could answer it.

"Hello?" He was quiet a moment then set the knife in his other hand aside. "Hi, Uncle Stuart," he said as he switched to English. "Yeah, but it's okay, I get the feeling we'll have lots of time to catch up on our rest in the next few days, right?" He smiled, the expression a bit wry, as he scooted back on the bed so he could lean against Jean. "And thank you," he offered as he hit the 'speaker' button so Jean could hear Stuart.

"Again, it's nothing, kiddo," Stuart’s voice was deep and rough as if he was a smoker. "It's long overdue, getting you out of that hellhole." There was a bit of anger in his tone as he referenced the Nest. "Is everything all right with the flat?"

"Uhm, yeah." Nat glanced back at Jean then shrugged. "The bed's wonderful, and everything seems nice. It's quiet." They really hadn't been there that long and had spent most of the time asleep, but they'd been left alone and that was all that mattered to Jean and he suspected to Nat as well.

"It's nothing fancy, but it's safe, you won't be touched while you're there," Stuart assured them, then cleared his throat. "Look, I wanted you to come here, and it's not like Will doesn't want you with the family, either. But we've already had Moriyama people all over the place looking for you, so he was right about if you come to London, it'll be trouble."

"That's fine, I don't want to cause the family any problems," Nat said in a rush, a hint of guilt on his lovely face. "It's enough that you got us out of the States. That's all we could ask, really."

"Bullshit," Stuart spat out, "you're family, it's the least that's owed. But it does look as if you're safer away from us right now, someplace those bastards won't expect you to be." He was quiet while Jean wrapped his arms around his smaller partner in a vain effort to keep him safe. "Also... you come here, I don't think you're going to be able to remain apart from the family, Abram. People are going to see us fighting for you and they're going to make assumptions."

Nat didn't say anything for a few seconds before he nodded once then spoke. "I understand."

"Just... think about what you want, okay? I'll be there in a couple of days and we'll figure things out. Until then, be careful and stay out of trouble."

"I will," Nat promised. "Be careful yourself."

He was quiet after he ended the call, until Jean gave him a slight hug; he tilted his head to look up and smile, then patted Jean's arms in a signal to 'let go'. Once Jean did that, he got off the bed, put the phone aside and went to the bathroom. After he came out, hands running through his hair and bangs which were slightly damp from when he'd washed his face, Jean entered the room so he could use it.

When finished, he found Nat searching through their kitchen, all of the cupboards left opened while his partner checked the drawers. "You French have no appreciation for a proper tea," Nat grumbled, an adorable frown on his face as he motioned to a box of black tea on the counter - a box of tea yet no kettle.

"At least there is black tea," Jean pointed out with a slight chuckle; he'd heard so many complaints about that over the last several years, while Nat 'suffered' with the green tea available to all Ravens.

"Oh, shut up," Nat muttered while he started a pot of coffee (of course there was coffee, Jean was smug to notice), then made do with boiling water in a pot. "I'll text Stuart about the tea."

"Hmm." Jean held up some eggs, to which Nat nodded; there was oatmeal in the cupboards, but they were starving so it would be best to go with something quick - eggs, some of the ham in the fridge, and toast.

It had been years since either of them had to cook, but they'd (more Jean than Nat) had experience from before they'd been sold off to the Moriyamas and it wasn't a complex meal. After a few minutes, they sat down at the tiny table in the kitchen with pleased grins on their faces to eat, Jean with his coffee and Nat with his tea, and it didn't take long after that before the food was gone.

It was... it was one of the best meals in Jean's life, at least that he could remember.

Once the plates were left to soak in the sink, they refilled their mugs and sat at the table to talk. "So, Marseilles," Nat said with a slight smile. "You must be happy."

"It feels like a dream," Jean admitted. "As if any moment now, I'll wake up and it'll be time to start our morning practice."

Nat grimaced as he held his mug between the palms of his hands as if to savor its warmth. "More like a nightmare. You know we can't ever be Ravens again, it would be better to stick our heads in that oven right now than to let that happen."

No, Riko would never forgive them for daring to fight back, let alone to run, while Tetsuji would never allow a slight to his authority. The only question would be, just how long would they suffer before the Moriyamas (most likely Tetsuji) would finally put them out of their misery? "I agree, so what now?"

It was quiet while Nat sipped his tea and considered the question. "Well, as far as I can figure, we stay here or we go to London and officially join the Hatford organization."

"But your uncle didn't seem pleased about that," Jean pointed out - Nat didn't seem happy about it. "Why is that, when he went through the trouble to bring us here?"

"Because... because my mother didn't want that life for me, as far as I could tell," Nat confessed in a faint voice as he gazed into his mug. "Or else she would have left my father after I was born." He glanced up and gave Jean a wan smile. "I heard her argue on the phone with my uncle about it, once. If she went back... well, she’d have to a Hartford again, we both would.”

“And being a Hartford means what?” Jean asked as he reached out to wrap his larger hands around Nat’s – everything about his partner was smaller, was finer-boned, yet Neil wasn’t made of anything breakable, wasn’t fragile. No, after being raised by the Butcher and sold to Tetsuji (after being handed over to Tetsuji’s psychotic nephew), he was… he was like one of those Japanese blades which hung in Tetsuji’s office back in the Nest – was something finely crafted out of iron until it was beyond worth. Nat (Nathaniel, a name which Jean knew he disliked because it was too like his father’s) used his fragile appearance to his advantage, to fool people with an improbable image until he tore them to pieces.

“And what about you?” Jean asked. “What do you want?” Because Nat often used that unbreakable will of his to protect him, to taunt Riko and bear the madman’s abuse so Jean didn’t suffer, had killed three people so Jean… Nat bore too much because of Jean, so whatever Nat wanted was important.

It was quiet while Nat nibbled on his full bottom lip, the lip which Jean adored kissing gently because of such abuse. “Uhm… I doubt it would be too bad, working for my uncles, but I want to stand on my own – on our own,” he said in a quiet voice. “If we join them, we’ll be tied to them forever. I’d rather avoid that if we can. I think that’s why my mom didn’t run to her brothers when she had the chance.”

“Then we find another way,” Jean agreed; after escaping one life of servitude, he was with Nat in that it would be foolish to throw away their newly found freedom so quickly.

Their future decided for the time being, they washed the dishes then spent more time exploring the apartment and rearranging things since it appeared that they would be staying for the immediate future. Jean threw out the clothes they'd worn yesterday, wanting to keep nothing from their time at Edgar Allan other than their shoes (they would need to go out and buy new ones) while Nat made up a shopping list. Once that was done, they turned on the small television and sat down to watch what was available, something they never were allowed to do at the Nest.

They avoided anything to do with sports in unspoken agreement, and scanned through the available channels with interest, only to stop when they reached a news channel. They watched since they were out in the 'world' again, a world which went beyond the walls of an Exy court and the gossip of the Class I division, and needed to be caught up as quickly as possible. They watched on with rapt attention until the banner at the bottom of the page announced that there had been an accident near the Edgar Allan campus which had cost the lives of several Exy team players, including two of the Perfect Court, and that Riko Moriyama had sustained injuries which would prevent him from participating in several upcoming games.

Jean changed the channel to one showing some asinine variety show after that, his fingers numb and a strange ache in his chest. "They've officially announced us as dead."

"It's not a surprise, Tetsuji probably doesn't want to explain to the main branch that we've run away. This way he can cover for Riko, as always," Nat spat with bitterness as he tugged at his bangs. "He probably hopes that he can track us down quickly and make the story real before Kengo figures out the truth."

"Which is why he's harassing the Hatfords." It really was for the best, them standing on their own, to avoid a fight between the two families.

"Yeah." A mulish expression came over Nat's pixyish face as he stared at the screen in front of them, yet there was a distant look in his pale blue eyes. "I think... I think it's best that we make ourselves valuable enough that it's more effort than it's worth for the Moriyamas to try to pry us out of here and that the Hatfords aren't continuously having to fight for us."

That... Jean shook his head as he got up for more coffee. "I'm not sure I'm following you. How do we do that? We're two kids, not two criminals." He thought about that for a moment as he regarded his partner, who sat there with a knife tucked beneath his left thigh, who had killed three people for him yesterday. "Nat... I'll do anything for you," he confessed as he held an empty mug in his hands, "but I'm confused right now."

The look his dear friend gave him was one of understanding instead of contempt. "I know, my star," Nat told him with overwhelming affection, the pet name making Jean's chest ache in the best of ways. "It's... I remember hearing my... hearing him complain one day." Judging from the amount of venom in Nat's tenor voice, he referred to his father, the Butcher, just then. "About a guy who crossed one of his people, but he wouldn't let Romero take him out - he needed someone who wasn't known to associate with him to handle things so the police couldn't trace it back to them." He gave Jean a lopsided smile. "That's what we need to be, the guys with no obvious ties to anyone who get things done."

For a moment, Jean wanted to say 'no', to ask why did Nat - crazy, impulsive Nat who never backed down even when he should, when it would spare him so much pain - think that they could be those people... and then he thought about the last few years. He thought about how they'd endured so much, had dealt with everything Riko and Tetsuji had dealt out, had commanded and carved into their skins, and wondered if there was anything out there in Marseilles which could be worse than what they'd suffered in the Nest.

(Technically, yes, but he knew there were some lines which Nat would never cross, not after what Riko had done to them, would never ask Jean to do, so it would be all right.)

"If it means that I don't have to live on British soil, then it's fine," Jean sneered before he poured the last of the coffee in his mug.

That led Nat to complain that he would adore being British, just adore it, and come over to hug him from behind while Jean brewed more coffee. Jean sniffed and insisted that the wonderfulness of France had clearly overwhelmed the fool, and when Nat doubled over in laughter (a truly rare occasion), slung the impudent imp over his shoulder to carry him back to the small couch where they occupied themselves by watching movies for most the day (another impossibly rare occasion) save for when they made something to eat or napped.

It was… if anything brought home the fact that they weren’t Ravens anymore (as well as the fact that they hadn’t been abused in the past twenty-four hours or so), it was that they were able to rest, to do nothing but sit down and be near each other without having to go out on court, to practice and practice and practice, to wear themselves into exhaustion at Tetsuji’s command (the Master’s command). Jean felt it when Nat’s body would twitch against his from time to time as if to jump from the couch and go, to run to the court or the exercise room or somewhere, when his fingers would flex as if to grab a racquet, but there was no court, was no schedule anymore.

Not for them, not when they were no longer Ravens.

(At least not officially – Jean suspected there were some things that weren’t so easily discarded.)

Despite them leaving the Nest, it had left its mark on them, or at least its schedule had, and they soon found themselves growing tired early in the evening; it wasn’t so much the change in time zones as them struggling to adjust to a twenty-four hour day once again. They took turns in the bathroom to prepare for the ‘night’ and then once more curled up together in bed.

That ‘night’, they didn’t sleep without interruption; Jean woke three times to find Nat tense in his arms and whispered his name until his partner’s fingers unclenched from the knife and his heartrate stopped thundering in his narrow chest.

It wasn’t unusual for one of them to have nightmares, not with everything they’d endured at the Nest, with what Nat had endured at his father’s hands. Yet Jean wondered if part of what caused them that night was what had happened right before they’d fled the Nest, was what Nat had done to protect him.

He held his partner (his love) tighter to his chest as his hands soothed along Nat’s trembling body.

The next two days were spent much like the first, with them sleeping when they were tired and cooking when they were hungry, with them watching whatever they found interesting on the television to while away the time. Jean could tell that Nat grew anxious from being ‘trapped’ in the apartment – not even the hours of sit-ups and pushups he did on the floor could burn off the excess energy. Yet when they ran low on food at last, Jean insisted that he be the one to leave the safety of the apartment to go shopping: he was less recognizable with his black hair, could blend in the crowd better than gorgeous, fiery Nat.

Nat… Nathaniel with his auburn curls and pale blue eyes, with his striking features and short, lean body always drew attention, and that was before he opened his mouth, before he unleashed his sharp tongue and sharper wit. No, Jean knew how to be quiet, to blend in and keep his head down so he’d slip out, find the nearest store and be back as quickly as possible.

All it took was a polite question or two and he found a small store down the block, where he was able to purchase enough food to last them a couple more days with the cash that Chesare had left. He was halfway through the alley leading back to their apartment when an older man stepped out of a doorway and in his path.

“Moreau.”

Jean stilled at mention of his name spoken with a British accent, especially since it sounded familiar. He was about to swing a bag of groceries at the man when he caught sight of a gun pointed at him, right before he was motioned toward the doorway. “Ah, best to behave right now,” the man said in English.

“You’re… your Nat’s uncle,” Jean realized as he followed instructions. Why was Stuart Hatford threatening him?

“Clever boy.” Stuart nodded once and, after a long look, put away the gun in a holster he wore beneath the jacket of a finely made grey suit. “I wanted a chance to talk to you alone before I saw Abram.” His fine blond brows drew together in obvious displeasure. “Why are you out of the flat, eh?”

“We need more food, and I thought it best that I fetch it instead of Nat.” Jean scowled at the man while he held up a bag; Stuart was a few inches shorter than him but taller than Nat (who wasn’t?), and had blond hair cut close to the scalp and pale grey eyes – he resembled Nat’s mother, who Jean had seen in a picture Nat cherished (which had been abandoned at the Nest).

“At least you know that much,” the man muttered as he folded his arms over his chest. “Still, anything could happen to you out here.”

“We didn’t know when you were coming, were we to starve while waiting?” Jean shot back.

“Hmm, awful lippy for a man asking for help.” Stuart gave him a cold look for a moment before clicking his tongue. “I’m not here for a bitch session, though. The main branch has found out that Tetsuji’s lost the two of you and Kengo’s not pleased.”

Jean nearly dropped the bags upon hearing that. “What happens now?” Did they have to go to London and join the Hatfords after all?

Stuart continued to stare at him in an intent manner. “What if I told you that they’re never going to stop trying for you and Abram, hmm? That the only way I can see this ending is if we give them something to appease them.”

“And that is?” Jean asked as he slumped against the stone wall framing the door.

“Well… Abram is a Hatford, and Kengo understands family ties. You? You’re not family.” Stuart gave him a cold look. “If we send you back and take Abram in? That might work.”

Jean closed his eyes and thought about it, thought about going back to the States and what the Moriyamas would do to him for daring to run, for harming one of their own… but if Nat would be safe then? As long as his partner (lover) could have a life?

It would be worth it.

“All right,” he said, his voice quiet and not free of a faint quiver, then opened his eyes. “I’ll go. Just… just don’t tell Nathaniel, okay? Not the truth. Tell him some gang got to me or… just not the truth or he’ll never stop until the Moriyamas are destroyed.” The foolish, loyal imp never knew when to let go, he thought with fond amusement despite having just signed his death sentence.

Stuart continued to study him for a couple more seconds before he rubbed at his face as if tired. “Fuck, but you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Eh? Aren’t you?” Jean was confused, especially when the man shook his head.

“I just… I wanted to see how serious you are,” Stuart said as he motioned down the alley, toward the apartment, “about Abram. We might not have been able to do much about him, but we know him, he’s blood, whereas you?” He gave Jean another intent look. “All we know about you is that you play that damn sport well, that Abram wouldn’t leave you behind, and that… well, that you’re with him. So I wanted to see if you’re worth the trouble.”

Heat suffused Jean’s face as the meaning behind those words sunk in. “But… we’re partners,” he tried to argue as he set the bags down on the ground so he could rub at his own face (hide it behind his hands).

“Don’t lie to a liar,” Stuart muttered as he shifted about; Jean lowered his hands to watch the man light a cigarette then blow out a plume of smoke. “Like I said, Abram’s family so we kept tabs on him in the Nest, we know things.” He gave Jean a narrow look while he lowered the lighter as if slightly displeased. “At least he seems to have better taste than Mary so far, but mess with the kid? You’ll wish I had sent you back to the Moriyamas.”

“It won’t happen,” Jean swore as he picked up the bags of groceries. “Now are you done? Much longer and Nat’s going to tear the city apart looking for me.” The suffering he’d endured the last few minutes was almost worth it when an expression of panic flickered across Hatford’s face and he mumbled something about his sister.

Nat clearly had been ready to search Marseilles for Jean when they reached the apartment (he had his shoes and a jacket on, and knife in hand), and only the arrival of his uncle kept him from interrogating Jean on what had taken him so long to fetch the groceries. Jean allowed the two a few minutes for a private reunion (a bit uncomfortable on his partner’s part since he wasn’t used to grown men who obviously cared about him touching him without harm), and then the three of them settled in to talk about Nat and Jean’s future.

Stuart appeared a bit taken back when Nat argued for them to stay in Marseilles and why, and how they could help out the family as ‘independents’ – taken back but pleased in the end. He appeared to understand Nat’s logic, though he offered suggestions which Nat considered and eventually accepted. For his part, Jean was quiet and as long as Nat felt that it would work out well for them, he went along with his partner’s decisions since all he really knew was Exy and that Nat wouldn’t betray him. He caught Stuart giving him those intent looks again during the discussion from time to time, and noticed an approving gleam in the man’s grey eyes when he would defer to Nat.

“It won’t be easy for you,” Stuart confessed before he left (with the shopping list from Nat in hand), “but to be honest? I think this is more along the lines of what your mother would have wanted for you.” That appeared to be directed at Nat. “She always wanted to stand on her own, it’s why she went to the States.” Grief washed over the man’s expressive face for a moment before he shook his head. “If you’re willing to do some hard work, I’ve some people I think who’ll only be too happy to keep you busy, people who’ll also give those Moriyama bastards pause about causing any trouble.”

Nat glanced at Jean, who nodded at the proposal, before he smiled at his uncle. “It can’t be any worse than Exy practice for ten hours a day – sixteen-hour days at that, so tell them we’re in business.”

“Definitely a Hatford,” Stuart said with obvious pride. “Give me a few days to set up the new identities for you two and to gather everything on the list, though it might be Henry or Jamie who stops by with the stuff.” He grinned as he held up the list. “The family’s eager to see you and I got an earful about being the one to come this time.” The grin turned a bit sharp when Stuart glanced at Jean; years of dealing with Riko set off warning bells in Jean’s head at the thought of him meeting the rest of the ‘family’.

He had some dark thoughts about his partner and all the trouble the damn imp had dragged him into (and out of) over the years, until Stuart left the apartment. Nat was quiet as he stood by the door (locked and bolted), his eyes hooded and full lower lip caught between his teeth, until Jean tucked back a stray lock of his unruly (lovely) hair. “That went well?”

The troubled expression was quickly replaced with a smile as Nat nodded. “Yes, it did,” he assured as he caught at Jean’s hand to lead him back to the kitchen. “He won’t have agreed if he didn’t think it would work, nor would he risk any contacts to help us out. The family also can’t risk us falling back into the Moriyamas’ hands because it’ll make them look bad, so he must think it’ll work.”

Jean didn’t particularly like Stuart after the little ‘trick’ he’d pulled earlier, but he had to admit that Nat was right about the man having reasons to want to keep them safe, to keep Nat safe. He shook his head while he watched his partner (his love and reason for being) wash the dirty mugs. “Of course it’ll work, all of your insane plans do even as they leave chaos and mass destruction in their wake.” He sighed deeply while he glanced heavenwards. “I need to find the nearest church so I can light a candle,” he paused to think about that, “make that a few dozen candles.”

“Ha, there’s that wonderful sense of optimism of yours which I adore,” Nat grumbled as he set the last mug on the dish rack then reached for a towel to dry his wet hands. “I’m surprised you’re not adding ‘check out burial plots’ to the list.”

“Hmm, what a wonderful suggestion.” Jean gave the imp a blank look when Nat growled beneath his breath and came over to smack his fists (with little force) against his chest. “All right, check out my burial plot, you insane demon,” he clarified as he wrapped his arms around his beloved tormentor to hug him close.

“You know I’d never let something like that happen to you,” Nat murmured as he gazed at Jean’s chest, eyes downcast and a slight frown on his lips.

No, Nat (Nathaniel, the Butcher of Baltimore’s son and a Hatford, the Perfect Court’s number Three and the one Raven whom the Moriyamas could never break) never would, no matter how much pain and abuse Riko heaped upon him (the beatings and cuts and handing him over to- no, no more). “I know,” Jean breathed out as he hugged the most precious person in the world tighter against him.

Nat’s smile blossomed even as it took on a sad note. “I won’t. So if you want to walk away, to find your sister and live somewhere quiet together, somewhere away from all the-“

Jean didn’t give the fool a chance to finish such an improbable, generous, Nat-like offer (sacrifice); he lifted his love into a passionate kiss which served as his answer. Yet in case that wasn’t definite enough, once a certain spawn from hell was left gasping for air and clutching at his neck, Jean broke it off to speak (after he drew in a deep breath). “There’s no way I’m going to allow you to run around my beloved country unsupervised, you destructive little imp. There’ll be nothing left standing within a week.”

That earned him a pleased smile. “You underestimate me.”

Jean closed his eyes and offered up a prayer for patience even as he rubbed his partner’s back, then sighed again when Nat wiggled free.

“Come on! We’ve a lot to do before Stuart or whoever comes by with the stuff,” Nat insisted as he tugged Jean to the living room. “I should be able to teach you how to pick pockets and some basic fighting skills by then.” He seemed to consider something as he began to push the small coffee table out of the way, his lower lip once more caught between his teeth. “Maybe if it’s Henry or Jamie, they can help with the fighting.”

Jean had a feeling that he’d be running out to the store again very soon, that time to buy wine; he rubbed his forehead at the thought of what Nat and the Hatfords would soon teach him, of what his new life would be like, and sighed in intense weariness.

Still, Nat was at his side and he was free of the Moriyamas (mostly), could look forward to the day when the two of them held no obligation to anyone but each other. The thought of that future in mind, he pushed any doubts aside and taunted his partner to do his worst.

*******

Okay, so there’s that. Now I have to get to work on the Reverse Big Bang fic, last of my owed fics, and then... we’ll see?

#nekojitachanfics #aftg #neil josten #Jean Moreau #raven!neil #aftg au #stuart hatford #qui n'avance pas fic #mumbling into the void #jeaneil

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