Jake and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul stops by the Brownstone later in the evening to distract Jake from the events of the last couple of days. Activities include dinner out, indecent exposure on rooftops, and plummeting toward the ground from several stories up.



The day had been rewarding so far as Jean-Paul was concerned. The meeting with Nathan and his associates had gone very well and had been enjoyable enough that Jean-Paul had to curb himself; if Nate figured out how much he was enjoying this, he'd never shut up about it. Then there was dinner with Jake to look forward to, though he really couldn't afford to stay the night. He had way too much going on and matters were really down to the wire school-wise. After-dinner activities? Distracting Jake from the last two days? Certainly. But no falling asleep right after.

Firmly resolved to behave himself, Jean-Paul knocked on the door to Jake's apartment, leaning against the doorframe as he waited.

"Rappaccini," Jake said into the phone as he opened the door. "Two p's, two c's, one n." He blinked at the sight in front of him--Jean-Paul in a suit and tie, looking very well put together. "Wow," Jake mouthed silently to the other man, eyebrows raised, letting his eyes roam appreciatively. "Hmm? Yeah. And Tarleton." He shrugged in apology as he held the door open, holding up one finger to keep the speedster at bay. "Was with New Son, but doesn't appear to be any longer."

Jean-Paul responded to the admiration with an equally silent "Just for you" and a grin. He slipped into the apartment, but kept his distance as requested. He pushed his hands into his pockets and roved Jake's living room silently, examining the DVDs on the shelves. He wasn't quite relaxed; he was aware that he had an appreciative audience and was not above casual posing.

Jake watched Jean-Paul for a moment, then tore his eyes away reluctantly, sighing as he considered the question being posed on the other end of the phone call. "I don't know, Dad. She seemed to think that this girl would want to go with her. I was more of an afterthought, from what I gathered."

His father's next question was in German, and Jake answered in the same language without skipping a beat, wandering into the kitchen. Over the next couple of minutes, as Jake paced through the apartment, they switched languages twice more--once to Russian, and again to what Jean-Paul assumed must be Arabic. They ended up back in English as Jake returned to the living room with a wry smile on his face. "Didn't you get the gold watch?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Anyway. Let me know if you hear anything."

Jean-Paul's grin widened as Jake wound up tucked onto the couch beside him. The call wrapped a moment later and Jean-Paul leaned in to steal a kiss. "Family business?" He'd dropped his posing and relaxed, now it was Jake's turn. The call hadn't seemed unpleasant per se, but Jake hadn't sat once. Low grade tension, but still tension.

Jake grimaced. "No, thank god. Calling in some favors with my dad, now that I know who took my arm." He ran a hand over his mouth briefly. "He thinks he might be able to find something out."

"Here's hoping." Jean-Paul restrained the urge to caress Jake's left shoulder. "I am assuming that you do not want to talk about it. Something more pleasant, then? I leave the night -- and myself -- in your hands."

Jake grinned at that, taking the opportunity to ogle Jean-Paul once again. "I think I've just decided that after the sheer awfulness of the last few days, I deserve to go out and have fun. And with you dressed like that, I think the only answer is for us to go somewhere ridiculously expensive that serves ridiculously good food, and then we need to go get ridiculously drunk." He stood. "Once I change clothes. Sound good?"

Jean-Paul followed suit, trailing Jake back to the bedroom. "Is Jean Georges ridiculous enough on all counts? We would have to head up to Central Park, but the only danger is that you will have to share a cab with me."

"I've shared a cab with Emma," Jake replied, pulling his favorite suit out of the closet and draping it over the bed. "I doubt you can be any worse than her--there's nothing more terrifying than being driven through rush hour traffic by a cabbie who's bawling so hard he can't see the meter, much less the road. Besides, if I can't stand you, I can always just kick you out and make you meet me there." He selected a shirt, then began to change. "And Jean Georges sounds perfect."

---

Jake's declaration proved to be prophetic. Calling ahead netted them the reservations of a couple who had canceled only ten minutes before. Jean-Paul managed to behave himself during the taxi ride. The food was every bit as good as advertised -- the spring rabbit alone would have been worth the price of the meal. They lingered over dessert, a chocolate cake that made Jake well up and nearly propose to their waiter, finishing up the night with Johnny Walker Blue and talk of anything except work which, Jean-Paul discovered sheepishly, left Jake holding up most of the conversation.

"At which point we were politely asked to leave the country and not come back," Jake said, laughing at Jean-Paul's ever-higher eyebrow. "Dad was furious. Threatened to give me the Kazakhistan beat--I think the only thing that saved me from a cold couple of years in the steppes was the fact that Ross burned up his contacts to get us clear again so Dad didn't have to. Still." He shook his head, taking a sip of scotch. "I misspent my youth better than most."

"You win," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head. "I was at least out of my teens by the time I was being paid to cause major trouble. But I am curious...did they actually send you the dog?"

"No!" Jake threw up his hands, laughing. "After all that, you'd think they'd at least come through. But no." He smiled to himself. "I probably shouldn't mention that I was twenty-nine when all of this happened, should I?"

A short, bubbling sound that had likely started life as a laugh escaped into Jean-Paul's scotch, but he at least managed not to inhale.

"And you're talking about this as misspent youth? You are shameless, Gavin. It also makes me wonder what sort of trouble you are going to get me into."

Jake grinned wolfishly at that. "As much as possible." He finished off his scotch in one swallow, still smiling; he was having a good enough time that he'd almost forgotten about the events of the last few days. "Let's get out of here," he suggested. "There's plenty of trouble awaiting us out..." he waved a hand aimlessly, "there."

"And you are thinking about landing us in the middle of it." Jean-Paul checked to be sure that he'd remembered to tip and rose to his feet, opting not to resist offering Jake his arm as they left. "Central Park is right there if we would like to court a mugging."

"And let someone else share in my fun?" Jake asked, completely deadpan as he slipped his arm through Jean-Paul's. "Never."

"And we might be mistaken for do-gooders. We cannot have that." Jean-Paul leaned into Jake just a little. He was drunk, but not so bad off -- certainly past tipsy, but not crawling onto anyone's lap yet. The world was more or less steady and he had good company. "We could take in the view from atop the Chrysler building or..." He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

Jake pulled him closer, laughing softly; he'd had just enough alcohol to make him careless. "You sound like you have an idea."

Jean-Paul grinned. "Pick a rooftop. I suggest trying for one where we have some cover and will not be easily seen from the ground."

Jake looked around, then pointed. "That on--wait, what?"

"Memories of misspent youth." Jean-Paul tripped Jake neatly, catching him in a threshold carry as he stumbled. They were touching down on the rooftop in another moment; there was more than enough shadow to hide them from anyone
below who might have been wondering where they went. "And here we are. Thank you for flying Air Beaubier."

Jake yelped as he was tripped, then decided the best thing to do was to close his eyes. He opened them again once his feet touched the roof, a surprised laugh slipping free as he looked around. "This is...unexpected," he said finally, grinning at Jean-Paul. "And I assume you have devious plans, now that you've kidnapped me and hidden me away where no one can see us?" He reached for the other man's tie, using it to drag him gently forward.

"One devious plan," the speedster confessed, sliding an arm around Jake's waist as he leaned in to kiss him briefly. "But it may take a while." The words were a murmur against Jake's lips.

"Oh? Tell me more about this plan," he murmured back, sliding his hands underneath Jean-Paul's suitcoat.

It was unbelievable what this man did to him; they weren't even down to skin yet and the warmth of Jake's fingertips down his spine was already chasing words from his mind. Jean-Paul nipped at Jake's lower lip and rested his hand on
Jake's belt buckle.

"I'd prefer to show you," he murmured, slipping into French.

---

Jake was sprawled on his back, staring up at the stars. He looked lecherously disheveled--his shirt was open, his pants were somewhere above his head, and he'd lost his tie entirely. Again.

He couldn't think of any time in recent memory when he'd been more content.

"We should do this more often," he murmured to the man currently curled up against his right shoulder as he ran a hand down his back. Jean-Paul's skin was warm against the cool night air, warm under his fingers.

"Any time." Jean-Paul inhaled deeply of Jake's skin and stirred lazily against his body. "Last time I did this was just outside of London, when I decided I was going to go on sabbatical and get my head back together after everything at home. That was...dieu, ninety-four, I think. And the first thing I did when I touched down in Britain was let myself get picked up by someone far too into punk." He laughed. "But the view was fantastic. Different from this. There was less light, you could see the stars more clearly."

Jake laughed at the punk comment. "Piercings in strange places?" He buried his nose in the other man's hair, pulling him closer. "Would this be more of your misspent youth?"

"It seems to be the theme of the night. And he had safety pins in strange places. I was amazed that anyone still did that." Jean-Paul laughed as Jake drew him closer, eliminating even the idea of distance between their bodies. "I came out, ran away from home again, and joined the circus. So much for getting my head together."

Jake leaned back in an attempt to look him in the eye, or at least catch sight of his expression. "Not the literal circus?"

"I swear it is true." Jean-Paul sat up and crossed his heart over his unbuttoned shirt. "The D'Arbanville circus, owned by the family of the same name. It was not so big and they were looking for an acrobat. I applied on a whim and they decided I was good enough to join up. The youngest daughter is running it these days, I understand."

"No," Jake deadpanned, his voice shot through with amusement. "Although I suppose that explains why you're so flexible." Shivering slightly from the loss of the warm body that had been pressed against him, he sat up as well, a playful grin on his face. "And what sort of acrobatic-type-things did you do?"

"Nothing that would make Sefton bat an eye. Just basic trapeze and tightrope stunts." Jean-Paul smirked. "But at least I never lost any sleep over working without a net. It was fun and so far removed from what I had been doing...it helped, I suppose. I stayed until summer, then went back to the Flight program." He considered, fastened a few buttons here and there, and headed for the edge of the roof. "Care for a demonstration?"

"As if there's anything I could say to stop you?" Jake smirked in return. His pants were around here somewhere, weren't they? Ah yes, hanging from the defunct antenna. At least, he hoped it was defunct. He retrieved them and pulled them on, not bothering with his belt, and looked up just in time to see Jean-Paul step out onto the roof's edge.

It occurred to him as he strolled over that he had no idea how high up they were, although from the surrounding buildings he would have guessed them to be several stories. He pulled his shirt tighter around his shoulder as the breeze caught it, then grinned up at Jean-Paul. "Did you ride a bicycle on the tightrope as well?"

"That was the chimp's job," Jean-Paul snarked back. He had his arms held out to either side and was walking along the slender railing with one foot precisely in front of the other. "Now hush -- I am trying to make this look harder than it is."

"So I'll take that as a yes, then?" Jake watched him for another moment, amused, then stepped just next to the railing a few steps in front of Jean-Paul. "I'm not distracting you from your quest to make this look difficult, am I?"

"I may still be just drunk enough that I will not feel guilty for kicking you in the head, Jacob." Jean-Paul might have said more, except that Jake leaned oh, so casually against his leg as he walked by. The speedster flailed for a moment, considered, and decided it was more dignified to fall and fly back up than to try and right himself.

"You say the sweetes--shit!" Jake lunged forward as Jean-Paul disappeared over the side, forgetting in his panic that the other man could fly. He threw himself at the low railing just in time to gain hold of the speedster's ankle, but his forward momentum coupled with panicked inebriation were enough to send him hurtling over the edge himself.

And plummeting towards the concrete, what looked to be ten stories below.

An arm wrapped around his waist, giving him a moment of relief...but the world didn't right itself, and the ground was still rushing toward him. His arm flailed out, desperately reaching for something to stop their fall, but the only thing in reach was falling with him and already holding him tightly.

He spared a glance at the ground, and then squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he hadn't; they were falling too fast, Jean-Paul wasn't going to be able to stop them, and omigod this was really going to hurt...

Jean-Paul's bare feet hit the pavement in front of Jake's face with a forceful thud, jolting his passenger in the landing. Jake found himself still hanging upside down in the other man's grip, his hair brushing the concrete. Jake blinked. And then burst out into helpless, uncontrollable laughter.

Jean-Paul's legs were on fire from ankles to knees, but that had nothing to do with why his legs suddenly gave way, spilling them both onto the pavement of the alley. His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his throat, and his hands shook as he released his hold on Jake.

"Ca va?" he managed, his voice rasping. Any trace of drunkenness had fled.

Jake was sprawled on the pavement of the alley in almost the same position he'd been lying on the rooftop above just moments before, his body still wracked with convulsive laughter, so hard it was almost soundless. In marked contrast to Jean-Paul's sudden sobriety, he was almost delirious with relief.

Once he was able to move under his own power again, his fingers groped blindly for Jean-Paul's, raising his head to look towards the other man. "That was going to hurt a lot," he wheezed, chest heaving with effort as he tried to draw in a deep breath. "I'm an idiot." He let his head fall back against the concrete, looking up at a set of stars he was pretty sure hadn't been there earlier.

Jean-Paul flopped back against Jake, using him as a pillow and muttering joual explicatives to assure him that he, his immediate family, and all of his progenitors were much worse than idiots and possibly the result of desperate Newfoundlanders and sheep with loose morals. He cut off the abuse in surprise, glancing up as Jake's shirt finally fluttered down to join them.

Jake snorted suddenly, then dissolved into a much shorter but no less helpless bout of laughter. "See?" he gasped once he could speak. "I told you I'd get you into trouble."

"You are a man of your word." Jean-Paul sighed, trying to will his heart rate back down. "Mind if I stay over tonight?"

"I think you have to," Jake replied, still swallowing great lungfuls of air. "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be able to let go of you long enough for you to go home."


----

Later, Jake finds himself trying to distract Jean-Paul from his own traumas.


Jean-Paul woke in the dark, choking on the vile mess surging up his throat. He stumbled from the bedroom, taking half of the blankets with him, and managed to lose what was left of his dinner into the toilet, still reeling on the heels of the nightmare.

He wiped back of wrist across his mouth, trying desperately to choke down the frustration and the angry tears trying to come with it. This was not fair. He hadn't done anything wrong in Quebec, dammit. He'd gotten everyone out...

Jake might've slept through the retching if it weren't for the fact that he'd suddenly gone from warm and curled up with Jean-Paul to cold and alone, shivering himself awake in the breeze coming in from the windows. He sat up, confused, eyes following the trail of bedding down the hall to where it disappeared into the bathroom. Weird.

Compelled just as much by cold as by curiosity, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and padded down the hall, coming to a stop in the doorway of the bathroom. "Hey," he said uncertainly, rubbing the back of his head.

Jean-Paul glanced up, fighting a moment of reflexive panic, then forced himself to calm. Next, run through the list of excuses. Too much food. Too much scotch. The food had been bad. He was coming down with something. A joke. Morning sickness - bet it's yours...

"Merde..." Jean-Paul spat into the bowl, then flushed. "Bad dream," he muttered. Getting up seemed like too much effort.

"Oh," Jake said, the fingers of his right hand twitching with the memory of what had been done to the left, and the buzzsaw nightmare he'd woken from when it had happened. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the room, sliding down the wall opposite Jean-Paul to sit on the floor. He drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arm around them and resting his chin on his knees. He had no idea what to do--whether he should try to move within touching distance or give Jean-Paul his space, whether he should leave or stay. So he watched, and waited for a signal of some sort.

"It is stupid," Jean-Paul said weakly. "Just...I had to kill someone not so long ago. Hostage situation. Dreamed that he had you this time and I did it wrong again."

"Oh," Jake said again. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up, trying to think. "This was that thing in Quebec?" He wrinkled his nose, the details fuzzy in his memory. "I thought everybody lived? The good guys, anyway."

"The second time. The first time, I got to watch him kill my father..." He ran his fingers back through his hair. He'd be able to open his eyes again in a moment; he'd have himself under control. "This is stupid. He is dead. They are both dead. You are not. Want go back to sleep?"

Jake shrugged, not quite sure what to say. He rolled to his feet, crouching in front of Jean-Paul, being careful not to crowd him. Gently, he reached out and caressed the speedster's cheek. "Sure."

Jean-Paul leaned into the touch after a moment, a slow thaw, then wrapped his arms around Jake, pulling him close to hide against his neck. Jake hesitated, then ran his hand down Jean-Paul's back awkwardly. He rested his cheek atop the other man's head. "It was just a dream," he murmured quietly into Jean-Paul's hair.

"A stupid dream. You are right here." Jean-Paul breathed out slowly, firmly tamping down on the fears still scratching at the back of his mind. "Sorry. For waking you up."

Jake snorted at that. "Because I've been so much fun lately?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "At least no one broke in this time."

"Mmm. Maybe tripping over a puking Canadian would make them think twice about breaking in without a reservation." Jean-Paul blinked hard a few times. All right. Safe. "I had better brush my teeth..."

"Please," Jake replied, ruffling his hair. They were back on steadier ground; charming and playful he could do. He was good at that--better than trying to find the right words of support or understanding, at least. He gave Jean-Paul a squeeze as the man finished up at the sink. "Hot chocolate? Or we could break into Jubilee's place and raid her fridge."

"I...am not hungry." He knew that he should eat something -- he would be starving by morning -- but the idea was about as appealing as drinking dishwater. "A warm bed and company will do me just as well."

"The company, I can manage. You might have to help with the bed, though," Jake said, indicating the blankets in the doorway.

"Terrible guest, aren't I?" Jean-Paul cracked, moving to gather up the bedding. He was looking forward to getting back to bed, if for no other reason than to wrap himself around Jake and reassure himself further of the man's reality, but he knew already that he wouldn't be sleeping again that night.

"I'm not sure why I keep you around," Jake smirked, jostling him gently as he stepped past into the hallway and scooped up another blanket. They made the bed in silence, then slipped under the covers. Jean-Paul reached for Jake the moment they were in bed, pulling him close. Jake stroked the speedster's hair, trying to help soothe some of the anxious tension he could feel in the other man.

"You okay?" he asked finally, when it became clear that Jean-Paul wasn't relaxing.

"Very rarely. But doing all right. This is not that unusual...I am doing well if I manage to sleep through one night out of three. My average has gotten much better since I started spending nights here. I should have mentioned it sooner, but...it is not the most pleasant thing to concentrate on. I had the feeling I might jinx it if I talked about it."

Jake nodded, shifting to trace Jean-Paul's spine with his fingers. He dreaded the next question, but he wasn't sure if there was any way around it. "Now that you can't jinx it, do you want to talk about it?"

"About having nightmares?" Jean-Paul seemed confused by the question.

"No, I mean..." He bit his lip. "About...what happened. What caused the dreams."

"I watched you nearly spread yourself across the pavement trying to save me tonight," Jean-Paul sighed and rubbed his hands over Jake's intact shoulder, down his back, over his hips. "I have a...very bad habit of failing the people I care about when it comes to the important things. That kind of scare...it is not so unbelievable that my mind would take that fear and run with it."

It was an uncomfortably familiar sentiment, doubly so because he recognized the underlying dodge. "I nearly spread myself across the pavement because I'm an idiot," Jake rebuked him gently. "Not because you failed me in anything." He kissed Jean-Paul on the forehead. "Don't worry about it."

"An idiot with some admirable qualities," Jean-Paul pointed out. "If I squint, I could almost call that a grand gesture." He didn't want to talk about St. Ives, about the curiously faint pop of a spinal column separating, or bodies on floors. "I would even say romantic, but I think that would get me kicked out of bed."

Jake nudged him. "Hush, you. People will start to talk." His wandering fingers found the scar over Jean-Paul's heart and lingered for a moment, tracing its shape before moving on. "You can tell me, you know. If you ever want to." The words were quiet, hesitant.

"I will, some time," Jean-Paul promised quietly, moving to cover Jake's hand with his own. "When it is light outside and...things are not so close to the surface. I will tell you."

Jake nodded, twining their fingers together, then frowned as something occurred to him. "So wait...Are you trying to say that falling off of a building is romantic? Because I hate to disappoint you, but I'm pretty sure I'm never going to try that one again."

"Dieu, did I drop you on your head and not notice?" Jean-Paul smirked in the dark. "Trying to save me was the romantic part. Though...you did push me off in the first place."

"That wasn't a push!" Jake protested gamely, ducking his head to hide his grin and nip the speedster playfully on the shoulder. "And yes, I'll have you know you did drop me on my head, although you were kind enough to wait until we'd stopped falling first."