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1.
Jeremy didn’t understand Jean, but he desperately wanted to. Every piece of information he learned about Jean’s life redefined Jeremy’s understanding of cruelty, but Jeremy would carry each if it meant making life lighter for Jean.
“I always wondered, why was Neil invited to the perfect court?” Jeremy asked, returning a plate to its shelf as he and Jean did the dishes.
Jean glared at him as he passed him another plate to dry, “You do not think he will make court?”
Jeremy had no doubt Neil would make court. Jeremy didn’t know whether the Foxes could have won against their full numbers, but he had doubt they’d be a challenge to beat come next championships, and Neil Josten was no small part of that. “I do, but didn't he and Riko hate each other?”
Jean’s expression morphed into something between amusement and horror, “That is an understatement. I cannot explain to you why Riko chose the little bastard.”
Jeremy didn’t know if he meant he didn’t know, or if he just couldn’t tell Jeremy. It didn’t really matter so Jeremy asked something else.
“What’s he like?” Jeremy asked, “I’ve never had the chance to actually talk to him outside of games.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Jean informed him, “Neil Josten is the most insufferable, impertinent goblin of a man I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”
Jeremy was surprised by the certainly Jean spoke with. Jeremy had dismissed most of the rumors about Josten's bad attitude as people judging him for his father’s mistakes, but he trusted Jean and Jean clearly hated the guy. “Damn. I thought he couldn’t be too bad if Kevin trusts him.”
“You trust Kevin’s Instinct as if he is not the biggest bitch of them all,” Jean replied, making Jeremy bark a laugh.
“His instincts aren’t all bad,” Jeremy argued, “He introduced us, didn’t he?”
Jeremy didn’t miss the way Jean’s ears turned pink as he refused to meet Jeremy’s eyes, “A broken clock is right twice a day, I suppose.”
Jean passed Jeremy a cheese grater and Jeremy shook the goofy smile from his face.
“There is a reason I was sent halfway across the country instead of staying with those nightmares,” Jean said, shaking his head looking horrified at the idea. “I am better off here,”
“Whatever those reasons are, I’m glad for them if it means I- we got you instead,” Jeremy said.
“You should send Josten flowers, as a thank you for annoying me into fleeing to California.” Jean told him.
“Or I could just give you the flowers,” Jeremy replied without thinking. There was something too intense about the way Jean was looking at him. Whatever this was, it was delicate and Jeremy didn’t want to be the one to break it, “You know, as a welcome to the team. Friends should give each other flowers more. I give Cat and Laila flowers all the time.”
“Right,” Jean said robotically, “I don’t need flowers,”
Jeremy noted he never said he didn’t want them. Jeremy grinned and they fell into a peaceful silence as Jeremy tried to remember what daffodils represented.
2.
It wasn't that Jeremy didn't trust Neil Josten. He respected the hell out of him and his team. Jeremy just didn't trust him with Jean.
He was making a lot of progress and Jeremy wasn't sure an old rival showing up on an already terrible night was going to help with that.
But Jean was determined, so Jeremy watched as he got into Neil Josten's car without explanation and drove away.
“I don't like it,” Cat declared, “What are the chances of two figures from Jean’s past showing up on the same day?”
Cat had started stress baking the moment Jean stepped outside. Judging off the circular tin she was coating with butter Jeremy assumed she was making some kind of pie.
“Kevin trusts him, and I trust Kevin.” Jeremy insisted, but he couldn’t help but remember Jean’s own opinions of the man.
“Jeremy is right,” Laila agreed, “We shouldn't judge Josten because of his father.”
“I'm not,” Cat defended, “I just hate letting Jean out of our sight. If I could wrap Frenchie up in bubble wrap, I would.”
Jeremy silently agreed.
“I am surprised Jean left with him,” Laila added, “I thought they hated each other.”
“He doesn’t like him,” Jeremy admitted, though it was an understatement, “But I think it was mostly Riko Neil hated.”
“I can't blame him,” Cat said bitterly. Everytime Jeremy thought of Jean and Kevin's confessions he saw red.
Cat put her pie in the oven and they gathered in the living room to watch buffy. Jeremy bought them a box set of every season of Buffy for Christmas last year. And a new TV. They'd argued the TV was too much, but given Jeremy lived there rent free most of the time, so he thought it was more than warranted.
They jumped to their feet at the sound of every car, and after five hours and a few dozen false alarms, Neil Josten pulled up by the house. Jeremy didn't hesitate to throw the door open, but Jean seemed to be in no rush to get out of the car.
After a few minutes Jean emerged, looking worn down. His neck looked just as raw and cruel as Jeremy remembered. Jean's face was set in a stony expression that screamed to leave him alone.
Jeremy stepped toward him, but Jean rushed past him and up the stairs without a word. Jeremy was about to follow him when Neil called out his name.
“Knox!”
The immediate correction died in his throat and he approached the car. “Is Jean okay?”
Neil Josten was sitting with a cigarette in his hand with the driver's seat pulled almost all the way forward. “He's fine,”
Jeremy could think of a lot of words to describe Jean, but fine was not one of them. Actually, it was but not in this context.
“Keep an eye on him,” Neil ordered, “I know Kevin already told you to stick by his side, but I'm telling you again. Do not leave him alone.”
“You said he was fine,” Jeremy said, not being able to help calling Josten on the bald-face lie.
“Physically, but-” Neil's face darkened, but he ignored his smoking cigarette, “He's going to have a difficult time and I need someone watching him.”
“I'll protect him,” Jeremt promised.
Neil sighed, and took a drag of his cigarette seemingly just to keep it alive. “Good, I really don't want to have to babysit Jean myself. We wouldn't have to worry about him committing suicide, because I'd kill him myself.”
From anyone else Jeremy would think it was a joke, but instead, Jeremy found himself wondering if Neil had ever killed someone. He then felt immediately guilty for the thought.
Neil tossed the cigarette out the window, and without bothering to say goodbye, and drove away.
Jeremy didn't understand Neil Josten, or his relationship to Jeremy's friend but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was Jean.
Jeremy rushed back inside to check on his friend.
3.
They put off the interview with Jean and Kevin as long as they could, but a month into their season they had no choice but to sit down with a reporter.
Kevin had flown into town the previous day, with Andrew and Neil in tow. Jeremy heard the three never went anywhere without each other, but he’d dismissed it after seeing Neil alone the previous month. Kevin had told him how Ravens struggled to be alone and how much he had leaned on Andrew after leaving the nest, but Jeremy hadn’t realized it was still the case.
Jeremy greeted the foxes cheerfully, only Kevin returning a fraction of his enthusiasm. Jeremy did his best not to let Andrew and Neil’s apathy bother him.
“It is a blessing to be ignored by the little bastards,” Jean had once told him, “Every conversation I’ve had with Josten has taken years from my life and brain cells from my head.”
“And Andrew?” Jeremy asked.
“Has never said more than three words to me on any given day,” Jean said, “I would have it no other way.”
The moment the reporter saw Neil there the interview quickly turned from Kevin and Jean’s interview into an interview of the Perfect Court. Kevin and Neil tried to argue, but the reporter was relentless.
Jean only raised his eyebrows and whispered in Jeremy’s ear, “This will be interesting. At least there will be no getting a word in during one of Josten’s tirades.”
The cameramen set up in the Trojans press room and the interview began.
“Good morning! My name is Jenna Carter and I am here today with three of the biggest names in Exy. Would you care to tell the audience your names and numbers.”
Kevin’s press persona was on in full swing, “My name is Kevin Day and I am Number two.”
The reporter looked to Jean to speak, who looked to Kevin.
“He is Jean Moreau and he is number three.” Kevin informed them.
Jeremy wanted to argue that Jean’s number wasn’t three anymore, but there was no arguing with the ink still marking Jean’s face. Jeremy had offered to pay to get it covered once and Jean had ignored him for almost two days.
The reporter seemed unhappy by Jean’s introduction, but signaled for Neil to introduce himself.
“Neil Josten. Number ten.” Neil said simply. He had the body language of a child in a museum who was told not to touch anything.
“Your other number,” The reporter corrected, “The one on your face,”
“There’s no number on my face,” Neil corrected, “Only scar tissue and freckles.”
“But he was once number four. One of only four people to ever receive a place on the Perfect Court. Tell me boys, how are we doing? I know this must be a tough time with everything that has happened recently with the Ravens.”
“Why would that bother me?” Neil said and Jeremy could hear the silent panic from the other members. “I was never a Raven. What did bother me was all the unwarranted hate and attacks Palmetto has received for what? Winning?”
“We were all shocked and saddened to hear of the passing of our fellow exy players,” Kevin spoke up.
Neil didn’t look sad, he looked annoyed.
“Was it shocking?” Jenna asked, “The loss of Riko Moriyama certainly was, but four Ravens have now been lost to suicide. Fans are starting to wonder if this tragedy was inevitable for a team like the Ravens.”
Nobody spoke.
“You’ve all been inside the nest, what is it really like?” Jenna tried again.
“The nest was our home,” Kevin volunteered when it became clear Jean wouldn’t speak and Neil couldn’t be trusted to, “Raven’s don’t go home over the holidays so for many of the Ravens the closure of the nest was the first time they’d left their new home for more than a few days in years.”
“Do you think that’s healthy?”
“No,” Kevin said firmly, “I fear the Raven’s focus was their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. We’ve heard the new changes put in place by the school’s administration and wholeheartedly support the change.”
“And you Jean? What do you think of the changes being made to your old home?”
Jean looked to Kevin, who looked back with clear instruction to answer. “I have nothing to say on the matter.”
“You must have something to say,” the reporter pushed, “People don’t transfer after three years for no reason. May I ask your reasons behind the decision?”
Jean must have taken her words literally because he answered, “No.”
“Jean’s a little frosty in English,” Neil told her, “Trust me, you should hear him in French. Nothing but long speeches, mostly about what a dick I am, but still.”
Jean glared at him.
The reporter was not so easily distracted, “I heard you stayed in Palmetto following your injury last year. Maybe I ask why you didn’t choose to heal at home with the Ravens?”
Jean didn’t answer, so Neil answered for him. “Do you know what the most important step is to heal a burn?”
The question must have confused Jenna because she replied, taken back, “Cold water?”
“Getting out of the fire.” Neil answered, and Jeremy couldn’t help but glance at the burns marking his face.
“A lot of your fans were upset by your decision to leave during championships. An understandable reaction given the results of the final game.”
Neil bared his teeth in a proud grin at the reminder of their victory.
“Jean was only recently cleared to play,” Kevin informed her, ‘Even if he had remained with the Ravens he would not have been there for the championship.”
“That’s quite a while to be injured for a rough scrimmage,” Jenna commented, “What were your injuries?”
The list Kevin texted him flashed through Jeremy’s mind.
Jean frowned, but nobody spoke for him so with a quiet voice he answered, “Minor damage to my ribs and knee.”
“It’s important for athletes to take injuries seriously,” Kevin continued, “If Jean pushed himself too soon he could have risked permanent damage to himself and his career.”
“And this was from a scrimmage?” The reporter asked again. Jean nodded mutely.
“Is it typical for Ravens to be so rough during practice?” she asked.
“Exy is a violent game,” Jean answered. “Injuries happen,”
Jeremy could see Jenna looking at Kevin’s hand. “Yes, but injuries like this should be rare, yet each of you has been benched for serious injuries after spending time in the nest. Even Josten, who was only there for a couple weeks was banned from playing following his visit due to injuries.”
“The Nest was a toxic shithole. We don’t need to pick up each piece of crap and analyze why it stinks, we need to flush it. And that's what the administration had done. The sooner people move on from the nest the better.” Neil told her.
Jeremy held back a bark of laughter at Neil’s metaphor.
“Although I would phrase it differently, Neil is right. The best thing to do now is move on and look to the future rather than dwelling on the past.”
Jenna didn’t seem satisfied, but someone was indicating she only had five minutes so she moved on. “Speaking of the future, I must ask; what will become of the Perfect Court now? Riko’s death was a tragic loss, but will his dreams die with him or will the perfect court continue?”
“We will make court,” Neil said firmly, “But that has nothing to do with Riko, or his Perfect Court.”
Kevin and Jean winced.
“What about new members? There are rumors about both Zane and Grayson being promised numbers before their deaths. Was this true?”
Jean went rigid at the name.
“Numbers don’t make players, talent does.” Kevin said, “Both of their deaths were tragic losses, but neither are anymore tragic for having missed out on numbers.”
“So they were promised spots on the court?” Jenna continued.
“Zane was,” Jean answered suddenly, “Just Zane.”
Jeremy was overwhelmed by the sudden pride of his friend. Not to mention a dark satisfaction at having Grayson’s demand so publicly denied. Jeremy didn’t believe in god, but he reconsidered when he woke to the news of Grayson’s death.
“Who has the power to give out numbers with the King gone?” Jenna asked. “And has anyone else been selected to join the Perfect Court.”
Jean glanced Jeremy’s way, but he wasn’t looking at Jeremy, he was looking at Andrew. Jenna didn’t notice, but Jeremy made a mental note to ask him later.
“We have decided to retire the number system,” Kevin declared, “We don’t believe it is fair to limit anyone’s potential with a pre-emptive ranking.”
“What do you think, Jean?” Jenna asked, “Kevin and Neil have removed their numbers but you still wear yours with pride. Do you think it still holds power?”
Jean squirmed under the scrutiny, “As Kevin said we do not intend on marking anyone else.”
“You could turn it into a heart,” Neil suggested, “Or maybe an exy racquet.”
Jean, who had been rigid as a hyperthermia victim throughout the whole interview turned to Neil with unfiltered irritation, “Shut up, Josten.”
“A sun would be fitting, but yellow wouldn’t be dark enough to hide it.” Neil continued. “You couldd get a black sun,”
“Not happening,” Jean argued.
“So you will be keeping your mark then?” Jenna
Jean looked back, bothered like he forgot she was there, “I- No comment.”
Someone indicated for Jenna to wrap up.
“It was great speaking to all of you. You are truly the most talked about group in exy right now. Any final comments?”
“Thank you for having us,” Kevin said, looking more tired from the interview than hours of playing exy could ever make him.
With the interview finished, the reporters packed up and thanked them for everything. Coach Rhemann said goodbye and turned on Jean with a tired expression.
“I think that went well,” Jeremy said. The others gave him disbelieving looks, but Jeremy had seen Neil Josten’s interviews before. This was a success by his lousy standards. Jean may not have been as charismatic as Kevin, but Jeremy was just proud of him for speaking at all.
Jeremy invited the foxes out to dinner, to which Jean immediately argued, “I’m not having dinner with him again. Besides, I doubt they will pick anywhere I can eat without poisoning my insides.”
“Coward,” Neil chided, and Jeremy tensed thinking of the words scrawled across Jean’s notebook. But Jean looked unbothered. “I promise I didn’t invite the FBI this time.”
“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, but neither Andrew or Kevin seemed surprised by the comment, “You met with the FBI?”
Jean glared at Neil. “I’ll explain another time.”
He already said that when he got back from his meeting with Neil, but Jeremy wasn’t going to push. Not in front of the Foxes anyway.
“Come to dinner,” Kevin said in a voice that left no room for argument.
“I could see if Cat wanted to cook,” Jeremy suggested, “Or we could show them that stir fry place you tolerate.”
“We’re going to a diner,” Andrew stated, and it was the most words Jeremy had ever heard from the goalkeeper.
Dinner was a bizarre affair. Jeremy had never spent much time with the Foxes outside of games. He and Kevin had no problem thinking of things to say to each other with Neil and Jean piping in whenever the conversation focused around exy and Andrew speaking only when it didn’t.
Neil and Andrew, unbothered by appearing rude, started a conversation in what Jeremy believed to be German as Neil picked the cherry off Andrew’s sundae. They weren’t touching, but Neil leaned towards Andrew like a sunflower following the light. Jeremy hadn’t heard any rumors about their relationship, but he made a mental note to ask Jean about it later.
“Vous n'essayez même pas de le cacher. Et le tribunal ?”Jean’s tone sounded rude but had Jeremy’s skin feeling hot anyway. He only heard Jean speak french every so often but he was quickly becoming addicted to the sound.
He knew Kevin spoke French, but to his surprise it was Neil who responded.
"Je vais plus jamais me cacher, c'est fini. Je préfère mourir heureux plutôt que vivre misérablement en tant que lâche comme toi tu fais," Neil responded with a tone sharp enough to cut.
Jean looked to Kevin, seemingly expecting him to take his side in whatever argument they were having.
Kevin sighed and replied in the same language, “Abandonne, Jean. Ça ne sert à rien de les convaincre du contraire.”
Jeremy glanced over to Andrew to check if he was just as confused. Andrew ate his sundae, looking unbothered but oblivious to the conversation around them.
Neil smiled smugly at Jean, who’s frown deepened. They fell into silence, the air still tense with leftover aggression. Jeremy was only beginning to understand the complicated relationship Jean had with the other Ravens. Neil was never an official Raven, but in Jean’s eyes he was Perfect Court which seemed to grant him a whole other level of aggression and toxic loyalty.
Unbothered by the tension, Andrew picked up Neil’s glass to drink the last of his ice tea. Neil tried to look annoyed, but even Jeremy could recognize the affection in his gaze.
They finished dinner and went their separate ways. With the exception of Kevin and Jeremy, nobody bothered to say goodbye or promise to call.
Jeremy wasn’t able himself when they got back to their room, “What’s the story with Neil?”
Jean blinked, looking bored, “His story was all over the news. You should search his name on your laptop if you are curious.”
“No, like what’s the deal with you two?”
Jeremy recognized the way Jean’s walls were rising the more he asked, but he wasn’t showing any obvious signs of distress so Jeremy continued.
Jean tilted his head, looking amused and mildly disgusted,“We’ve never fucked if that’s what you mean.”
It wasn’t, but it did remind Jeremy of another question, “I didn’t think so, is he dating Andrew Minyard? They had a bit of a vibe at dinner.”
Jean scoffed, “That is an understatement. Josten used all of his survival instincts surviving to puberty that he has no common sense left for his career.”
Jeremy felt suddenly sad for his friend. It was a familiar feeling. “That’s just exy. He shouldn’t have to hide who he is for his career.”
“Should is irrelevant,” Jean argued, “Neil should know better. Men like us can’t afford such luxuries.”
“What do you mean men like us?” Jeremy asked, “Half of the exy players I know are queer. There’s real progress being made. Being openly queer isn’t the career killer it used to be.”
Jean wouldn’t meet his eyes. Jeremy knew Jean was attracted to him, there was no denying the way he looked at him. Jeremy had assumed it ended there, or Jean simply wasn’t in the right place to pursue anything. Now, he wondered if this was the crux of the problem.
Jeremy barely stopped himself from asking. What mattered was being there for Jean, he didn’t need to ruin that by making Jean feel unsafe around him.
“It’s not worth the risk,” Jean said simply, “If Josten wants to sacrifice everything for a feral goalkeeper that is his poor decision.”
“Are you and Neil friends?” Jeremy asked, suddenly remembering the original point of this conversation. “You seemed to get along at the interview,”
Jean reacted like there was a foul smell, “Don’t make me sick.”
“He’s protective of you,” Jeremy commented, remembering Neil’s words the previous month.
“He likes to meddle,” Jean insisted, “His misplaced guilt is not my business.”
Jeremy thought there was more to it, but he didn’t know enough to argue. Whatever the deal was with the two Jeremy was learning you didn’t have to like someone to trust them. Because despite all of Jean’s complaints, it was clear he trusted Neil.
4.
Jean wasn’t telling him something. He kept opening his mouth to speak only to close it again with a frustrated pinch of his brow.
Jeremy tried asking him what’s wrong, but Jean waved off all his questions. The closest he had come to a real answer was a late night confession of ‘I don’t know how to talk about it,”
Jeremy woke up to the sound of hushed French in the bathroom. He would have ignored it, but he had to pee so he got up.
The distraction of hearing Jean speaking in full sentences of flowing French made him quickly forget his body’s protests.
“j'ai besoin de plus de temps.” Jean hissed into his phone.
A familiar voice rang out from the phone in bored French, “Et j'ai besoin de m'entraîner, et pourtant, je m'occupe de ta crise.”
Jeremy’s first thought was that Jean was talking to his family, but he was sure he knew the voice, but it wasn’t Kevin and Jeremy’s sleep addled brain couldn’t think of anyone else it could be.
“Sorry,” Jeremy said, making Jean jump where he was leaning in the doorway, “I need to use the bathroom,”
Jean moved out of the way and spoke again in French. “"Ils ont déjà assez pitié pour moi.”
The next morning Jean was waiting downstairs with four egg white omelets and a determined look on his face. The phone was on the bench beside him on speaker. The contact was named simply ‘bastard,’
“Are you talking to Kevin?” Jeremy guessed.
“Wrong Fox,” The voice Jeremy now recognized as Neil spoke through the phone, “Pretend I’m not here.” Neil said, “I’m here for peer pressure purposes only.”
Jean glared at his phone, and Jeremy pushed down his curiosity.
Laila and Cat joined them in no time, looking at the omelets with suspicion and disappointment.
“I have to warn you about something,” Jean said through gritted teeth, stabbing at his omelet with his fork.
Jeremy felt suddenly alert, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Jean answered, “It’s about my family.”
Cat carefully laid a hand on Jean’s shoulder in support. “You don’t have to tell us anything if you aren’t ready,”
“No, I have to tell you myself before you learn from the media,” Jean said with a sigh, “The FBI have been investigating my family. My parent’s crimes wouldn’t have been any of their business if not for…” he glanced at the phone. “Their connection to the Wesninski’s,”
“Your family is like Neil’s?” Laila asked, looking gobsmacked, “Like gangsters?”
“Barely,” Neil scoffed through the phone, “The Moreau’s are the bottom of the barrel on a good day. But technically, yes.”
“I thought you were going to keep your mouth shut,” Jean said without any real aggression.
“You should know better than to think that would ever happen.”
Jeremy’s head was spinning, “What- How did you get out?”
A dark cloud crossed Jean’s face, “Don’t ask me that. I lied to the FBI, but I don’t want to have to lie to you.”
Jean’s answer only made Jeremy more desperate to know. He needed to know that Jean was safe. Laila grabbed his wrist in understanding and shook her head.
“Are you going to testify?” Cat asked, “What- when is the trial?”
“I haven’t seen my family since I was fourteen. I know very little of their business. I told the FBI what I know, and hopefully it will not be enough to warrant an appearance at the trial.”
“What about-” Cat bit her lip, “What about your sister?”
Jeremy hadn’t even known Jean had a sister. Jean crumbled at the words. “I can’t-” he took a deep breath, “Neil, can you-”
“Everything we know or just the basics?”
“What I know,” Jean answered with a shaky voice.
“Elodie Moreau was sold to an arms trafficker three years ago. Her body was found two days after her thirteenth birthday.”
Jeremy was going to be sick. What he knew about Jean’s life in the nest was the stuff of horror movies, but this, this was unimaginable. He thought of his own siblings and pulled Jean into a fierce hug. Seconds later the other joined in.
“They’re going to pay,” Cat said fiercely, ‘They are going to rot,”
“That’s the plan,” Neil promised, a cold edge to his voice. Jeremy didn’t understand Neil Josten or his bizarre connection to Jean. But he trusted him enough to believe him.
5.
The world learned about Jean’s family less than 24 hours after Jean’s friends did. Coach Rheman had barely been given ten hours notice before the first article dropped.
Many exy fans were already convinced Jean was a violent instigator, and to them the news only confirmed it. Some people, most notably The Foxes fans, rose to defend Jean. He and Neil were success stories, they broke their families cycles of blood and cruelty and should be supported, not condemned.
“What do you have to say about the case against the Moreau family?” A bold reporter asked Neil in a post game interview.
Josten raised a brow and Jeremy felt the room hold their breath waiting for his response. “What are you a cop? I already told the FBI everything I know.”
“So you were involved in the investigation?”
“Don’t ask me questions you already know the answer to. My history with Jean was already released. Any further questions are a waste of time that could be spent discussing the game we just won.”
“People were shocked to learn not only one, but two star exy players have mafia connections. Is there a wider problem amongst the industry?”
“We’re not a club if that’s what you’re asking, and if we were it would be a shit club of just me and Jean.”
“What Neil and Jean have been through are horrible tragedies, not fuel for conspiracy theories,” Dan added.
“Are you still friends?” The reporter tried again, “You took the mark for him and trained with the Ravens, yet when he chose to transfer teams it was to the Trojans not the Foxes. Was there a falling out?”
Neil scoffed, “Jean and I have too much history to ever really be friends.”
“Then should we expect a frosty reunion come championships?” The reporter asked again.
“Jean reminds me of my favorite French city. Do you know why?” Neil said, confusing everyone around him.
“Why?” The reporter asked, dumbfounded.
"Because he is going Toulouse.” Neil said, making Jean groan from beside Jean.
“I despise that man,” Jean muttered.
“I’m honestly more shocked about you and Neil being childhood friends than anything else,” Cat commented.
Jean made a face. “Good, because that was a lie.” Jean seemed to regret his words as soon as they left his mouth.
‘Wait, what do you mean? Laila asked, “But the FBI said-”
Jean frowned, “Neil’s family needed someone to take the heat, and I was more than happy to throw my family to the fire.”
“Neil’s family-” Cat began, “His father is dead.”
“Nathaneil Wesninski was the spawn of two crime families. American and English. The Wesninskis may be gone, but the Hartford family remains strong.”
“Jesus,” Laila breathed.
“I think I finally understand why you and Neil are the way that you are,” Cat commented, making Jeremy unbearably curious. It felt like he’d spent years trying to unravel the bizarre rivalry between the two athletes.
“You’re French and he’s English. You were destined to piss each other off.” Cat explained. It was a funny answer, if a disappointing one.
Jean scoffed, “Despite spending next to no time in the UK, he has managed to inherit everything wrong with both England and America.”
“Wait, is this going to be a problem?” Laila asked.
“Neil being English?” Jean guessed, “Probably, it’s Neil and he is nothing if not a problem child.”
“No, the mafia. If they’re still involved…”
“It’s under control,” Jean assured them, “If anything Neil’s connection has helped me.”
“How?” Jeremy asked, noticing the way Jean
Jean pursed his lips. After a minute he spoke, “After Grayson’s suicide you all agreed it was for the best. Cat, you said you wished you had killed him yourself. Were you lying?”
Jeremy’s mouth was moving before he could finish his thought, “Did you and Neil-”
“Neil used his uncle’s contacts to hire a hit on Grayson when he learned what he had done,” Jean explained, “I know you did not grow up about violence the way we did, but do not judge him for this.”
“Judge him?” Cat asked incredulously, “I want to buy him a gift basket. Does he like muffins?”
“How did Josten afford a hit man?” Laila voiced, “Isn’t that…you know, expensive.”
“I do not know the details. He must have plenty left from what he and his mother stole when they escaped to waste it on me.”
“Your safety is not a waste,” Jeremy said, “Hell, I’ll write a cheque right now if Josten wants to share the bill.”
Jeremy had no idea how he would explain that to his accountant, but he would do it without hesitation if it meant protecting Jean.
Tension seemed to leave Jean’s body. “I don’t think it will be necessary. Besides, you don’t want anything connecting you to men like that.”
Jeremy wasn’t going to argue, “I still don’t understand how you and Neil can kill for each other, but can’t admit you’re friends.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” Jean explained, which helped absolutely nothing.
+1
The Trojans had done it. After years in second place, the Trojans won championships. The Trojans had bested the reigning champions, but unlike the fantasy Jeremy held since Freshman year it wasn’t the Ravens they bested. Instead, with Jean Moreau on his side they took the title from one of the teams Jeremy respected the most; the Foxes.
The championships lacked the drama the previous years held, and sparing a few sour looks, the Foxes the game was perfectly amicable. Jeremy loved riling up the other team with his positive attitude, but nothing beat a clean game.
“You relied too much on the point difference from the first half,” Kevin informed him after the game, “If you want to keep the title next year you will need to learn how to consistently score on Andrew.”
“That’s good to know, but can we leave the shop talk for another day?” Jeremy asked, “I’m too happy to think about next year already.”
“The Trojans will never be the undisputed number one team unless you can hold the title consecutively.” Jean agreed.
“We,” Jeremy corrected, “We will never be the undisputed number one team unless we can hold the title consecutively.”
Jean rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the happiness radiating off of him. Jeremy beamed at him. Seeing Jean like this was the real prize.
“Good game,” Kevin said reluctantly, “You played well.”
“Was that so hard, Kevin?” Neil said, joining them. The rest of his team had already finished showering, but for some reason Neil had waited, “Congratulations,” Neil told them, “Enjoy the title while it lasts because we’re taking it back next year.”
Jeremy just laughed good-naturedly, “Would it be rubbing salt in the wound to invite your team to join ours for celebratory drinks?”
Jean gave Jeremy a long suffering look, but didn’t argue.
“I’ll ask the rest of the team,” Neil said, before dragging Kevin off to find the Foxes.
“You were amazing” Jeremy told Jean once they were alone, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you while I was on the bench. I’ve never seen anyone move like that,”
Jean was still flushed from the shower, but Jerremy could have swore his skin pinkened at the words.
To Jeremy’s sunrise Jean took his wrist and pulled him back into the now empty locker room. “I didn’t know winning was supposed to feel like this,” Jean said and before Jeremy could reply Jean’s hand was cupping his jaw and his lips were on his.
Jeremy froze, making Jean jump back, “I am sorry. I thought-” Jeremy interrupted him by pulling Jean back down to kiss him right this time. Jean melted against Jeremy's touch. Jeremy didn’t dare move his hand from Jean’s shoulder where he clutched the fabric of his red shirt like an anchor.
They didn’t stay there long. This wasn’t how either wanted to come out to the world, or the rest of the team. But Jeremy felt like a billboard broadcasting the development to the world. He hoped he could pass off his cheer as pride at their victory.
The Foxes agreed to join them and the teams called a dozen Ubers to carry their players to the team’s favorite bar.
Despite their loss, Dan Wilds ,the Foxes captain, was in good spirits. Jeremy knew this was her last year, but she seemed more intent on celebrating her success than mourning their loss. Jeremy appreciated her and the other uppclassmen’s positive attitude.
Despite having years to try again, it was the freshmen foxes who refused to celebrate. “I thought we were joining the champion team. This is such bullshit!” Jeremy heard one of them hiss to another. Jeremy ignored them and joined Jean by the bar.
“Are you drinking tonight?” He asked, not being able to help but check out the other man as he approached.
“I’m nineteen,” Jean said simply, "According to your backwards country that makes me a invalid.”
Jeremy, who generally tried not to break the law, forgot anyone actually followed that rule. “We picked this bar for a reason. The freshmen come here all the time and no one ID’s them.”
‘I am not risking my career just so I can poison my liver,' Jean scoffed, “Besides, Ravens don’t-’ Jean corrected himself, “I don’t drink.”
Jeremy was pretty sure he knew what Jean was about to say, and sent a significant look at Kevin who was downing shots of vodka like a man dying of thirst, “Fair enough, but are you not drinking because you don’t want to or because of some dumb Raven rule?”
Jean gave him an exasperated look, “I don’t think sobriety is very high on the priority list of the problems the Nest gave me.”
Jeremy couldn’t argue with that, “Well, if you ever wanted to give it a try I’d be happy to buy us drinks to try in the safety of our apartment. I could even stay sober if you want me to keep an eye on you,” he offered, “Not that I’m trying to peer pressure you. I fully support you not drinking if that’s what you want.”
“Drinking isn’t very high up on the list of things I want to do with you,” Jean said in a quiet voice. Jeremy suddenly didn’t give a damn about celebrating with his team. He wanted to ditch his bar and leave with Jean immediately.
“Sorry,” Jean said, flushed, “Winning has made me too brave.”
“I like you brave.” Jeremy said, “I really like it. And you.”
Jean’s gaze was intense enough to burn, but Jeremy didn’t dare break it. Too soon, Jean looked away, “Not here.”
Jeremy glanced around at the crowds of people surrounding them. Most of them were familiar faces. A lot of them he trusted, but that wasn’t good enough. Not for something this important. “Okay,” he agreed.
Despite the way his muscles ached Jeremy felt electric. He wanted to dance, a suggestion Jean quickly shot down. Jeremy could have danced on his own, but he wanted to be with Jean more.
There were two free seats in the corner booth beside Neil and the Andrew Minyard. “Hi, are these taken?”
“They were, but Kevin and Aaron annoy me more than you two, so congrats you can sit down.’ he considered for a moment before adding, “Well more than Jeremy anyway.”
“I am not more annoying than Kevin,” Jean said firmly, “I do not care enough about the defenseman to comment, but I refuse to be considered a bigger bitch than Kevin Day. Besides, you are one to talk, you tiresome rash.”
Neil considered, “Fine, you’re not as big a bitch as Kevin. Sit down.”
Jeremy found himself sitting between Neil and Jean, his thigh pressed flush against Jean to give Neil space. It wasn’t that he was scared of the striker, but the knowledge Neil had casually hired a hit man over dinner gave Jeremy pause.
Andrew Minyard, who had been steadily ignoring their presence said something to Neil in German that had Neil’s eyes bulging. "Wusstest du, dass Nummer drei und sein Kapitän miteinander schlafen?"
Neil’s head snapped to study Jeremy and Jean, “Nein! Woher weißt du das?”
"Es ist offensichtlich. Entweder sie schlafen miteinander, oder sie wollen es." The goalkeeper replied.
Jeremy wondered if he would ever get to have a full conversation in English around this man.
Jean, who was eyeing them suspiciously, did his best not to look at Jeremy when Neil spoke up in French. “"Est-ce que t'es un hypocrite ou est-ce que t'as suivi mon conseil et tenté le libre arbitre?"
""Je vais pas en parler ici.” Jean replied coolly, which made Neil smirk.
Jeremy desperately wished he knew French. He wanted Jean to teach him, but Jean had made him promise to never ask again and Jeremy wasn’t going to betray his trust by learning on his own.
Neil dragged them away to grab the next round, despite only Andrew and Jeremy drinking. He tried to invite only Jeremy, but Jean must not have trusted them alone because he volunteered to go with them.
“Did Jean help you dye your hair?” Neil asked Jeremy as they crossed the bar. Jeremy could barely hear himself over the roar of music and had to ask him to repeat himself three times before he understood.
“No, I had it done at a salon,” Jeremy replied, perplexed by the question.
“Jean’s a natural, you should ask for help with your roots. He dyed my hair last winter. Trust me, it’s hard to dye over black but it looked sickeningly natural.”
Jeremy wasn’t due to get his roots done for a couple of weeks and made an effort to not touch his hair self consciously, “Right, I heard you and Jean decided to dye your hair in the nest. Auburn suits you.”
Neil sent Jean an amused look, “The upkeep is easier I guess,”
Neil very much wasn’t Jeremy’s type, but it still baffled Jeremy how oblivious Neil seemed to his objective good looks.
There was a crowd of Foxes already waiting at the bar for their drinks. Jeremy recognized one of them as Matt Boyd, the backliner who had blocked Jeremy for half the game. All of the determined aggression from the game was replaced by an easy grin when he saw them.
“You two having fun bonding captain to captain?” Matt teased.
“I’m not captain yet,” Neil corrected quickly.
“The season’s over, that makes you captain, Captain.” Matt told him, making Neil shuffle nervously. “You’ll do great.”
Another Fox scoffed, “Yeah right. We’re already losers, might as well promote the fucking gangster to Captain.”
“Shut up, Jack.” Matt said, darkly. “Neil’s the best man for the job.”
“Nathaniel has made this team into a fucking joke. He already destroyed the Ravens, and we’re next. We’ll all be slitting our wrists from the fucking trauma by Christmas.” The younger man scoffed.
“His name is Neil, you wretched shit. You should consider yourself lucky you are a Fox and not a Raven. You wouldn’t have survived an hour in the nest, because you aren’t half the player Josten is. Go ahead, slit your wrists. See if anyone misses you and that god awful attitude of yours.”
Jack stared at Jean dumbfounded. Looking just as shocked was Neil.
“Fuck this!” Jack exclaimed, slamming his glass to the ground and storming off.
“I’m going to-” Matt pointed in the direction Jack stormed off in, “He’s a dick, but I can’t have him actually killing himself.”
“What an impertinent child,” Jean commented. Jeremy should have been disappointed by the violent words, but he was more proud of Jean than anything.
“I thought I was the impertinent child,” Neil replied, still looking baffled.
“You are,” Jean confirmed, “But you are an impertinent pre-teen, that wretched creature is a toddler having a tantrum.”
“I’m the same age as you.” Neil reminded him automatically, “You defended me. Why?”
Jean looked uncomfortable, “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Neil’s confusion morphed into sadistic satisfaction, “Jean Moreau defended me and corrected someone on my name. How the mighty have fallen!”
“Shut up, you feral pigeon.”
“I’m a Fox, actually.” Neil corrected, a violent smile still etched on his face.
Something clicked and Jeremy couldn’t help but react aloud, “Oh! I get it now!”
They all turned their heads to look at Jeremy. “What?” Jean voiced.
“You and Neil. He’s not your enemy or your friend. He’s your annoying little brother.”
“We’re the same age!,” Neil corrected again, sounding exacerbated “And no I’m not! We may both have criminals for fathers, but they’re completely different people.”
“Not literally,” Jeremy corrected, “But you act like it.”
Jeremy looked to Jean wondering if he was being insensitive given the fate of Jean’s real sibling, but he only looked vaguely horrified at the idea.
“I don’t know how siblings work,” Neil commented, “The only siblings I know would rather kill for each other than actually sit down and talk- fuck, is Jean my brother?”
“No! I’m not,” Jean argued, “You’ve both had too much to drink,”
“I don’t drink,” Neil pointed out.
“Ah, so it’s just your natural stupidity then,” Jean commented.
Jeremy gestured at them enthusiastically, “This is exactly what I mean.”
They took the drinks back to the table as a tired bartender cleaned Jack’s mess.
“Andrew, do Jean and I act like siblings?” Neil asked his teammate (Partner? Boyfriend? Lover?) once they returned to the table.
Andrew gave him a dry look, “I wouldn’t know, I’m an only child.”
His twin, who had appeared at some point, glared at his brother, “Fuck off.”
The conversation moved onto the drinks they had delivered and there was no more talk of Jean and Neil’s bizarre relationship for the rest of the night.
They took an uber back to their apartment, chatting enthusiastically with Cat and Laila. Jeremy desperately wanted to grab Jean’s hand. He trusted Cat and Laila, but he knew he couldn’t make that decision without asking Jean first.
The moment their door closed behind them Jeremy reached for him. Jean squeezed Jeremy’s hand back, staring at their locked hands like a loaded gun. “This isn’t a good idea.”
Jeremy’s blood went cold, “Oh,” but Jean didn’t let go.
“I can’t risk my career,” Jean said, “I’d be dead without it,”
Jeremy thought that was a bit dramatic, but he understood the feeling, “We don’t have to come out if you aren’t comfortable. Besides, the world is changing. Maybe one day we could have both. If that’s something you want,”
Jean ran his thumb over the freckled skin of Jeremy’s wrist, “This is new to me,” Jean murmured, “Being allowed to want.”
“Nothing has to happen tonight,” Jeremy told him, “But If you do decide to do this, you should know I’m all in.”
Jean pressed him again the door with lips on his and a hand on his hip, “I’m exercising a little freedom,”
Jeremy kissed him back, and decided he didn’t have to understand Jean Moreau to love him.