Jean-Paul and Jake (and, briefly, Nathan) - at the End of the Party

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As the party wraps up, Jake collects the errant birthday boy from Nathan's lap and puts him to bed.



The party was winding down--or, rather, had wound down. Lil was packing up the last of the liquor bottles and most of the remaining adults were making their way up the lawn singly or in pairs. Jake collected the piece of tiramisu he'd stashed under the bar; he was pleasantly drunk, he had dessert, now all he needed was a Canadian birthday boy and he'd be set.

The Canadian in question was snoring quietly at the end of the dock, still using Nathan as a pillow. Jake quirked an eyebrow at the other man, then gently nudged Jean-Paul with one toe. "Don't tell me you're passing on dessert?"

Jean-Paul sat up quickly, though not altogether steadily, but managed to avoid pitching himself into the water. "M'not. Where did you come from?" His accent was thicker than usual, but he did not look so displeased that Jake had found them out.

Jake grinned at him. "Your birthday party. Or what's left of it." He glanced at Nathan. "Is he always this much fun at parties?"

"He has his moments." Nathan wasn't quite smiling. He didn't want to go grinning at Jake and make him think he'd mellowed on him or something. "And the two of you should definitely do something more productive with what's left of this twenty-four hours." He made a vague gesture. "You have my blessing. Shoo. Go forth and... on second thought, I don't want to know."

"You should be so lucky." Jean-Paul reached up to straighten the tie that had wound up in his pocket some hours ago, laughed softly, and slung an easy arm around Nate's neck briefly before rising to his feet. "I will see you tomorrow. Bonne nuit, Nathan."

Jake slipped an arm around Jean-Paul's waist in a pre-emptive effort to keep him from stumbling off the side of the dock. "C'mon, birthday boy." He showed off the dessert he'd managed to save. "I got you a present, although I have to admit I'm hoping you'll share."

"Good night," Nathan called back laconically over his shoulder, and pondered that he really needed to go back inside and see if Rachel was in fact sleeping. He'd stuck her upstairs in his and Moira's bed, to get a little distance from the festivities, but he suspected it was a lost cause. "I'm going to go finish off... whatever the rest of you didn't eat."

Jean-Paul leaned against Jake as they walked, sliding a reciprocal arm around his lover. Jean-Paul Beaubier: disgraced Olympian, retired superhero, and cuddly drunk. "You have got me a present already. It was very thoughtful. Made me spill my drink and got icing on my tie. I liked it."

Jake shrugged; he still couldn't quite believe he'd let Nathan stuff him into a cake. "If you don't want it, I can eat this tiramisu all by my lonesome..." He gave the man wrapped around him a mournful look. "It wouldn't be quite as fun as what I was planning to do with it, but I'm willing to make sacrifices. It's very good tiramisu."

Jean-Paul laughed softly. "Ah, I see. This is not really my present, it is just the icing on the Canadian." Jean-Paul stole a kiss. "I am glad you're here," he said softly, falling into French. "Here tonight. Here in general."

"It could be icing on the Jake," he protested once his lips were free. "I said I'd share." He slipped a hand under Jean-Paul's shirt, craving the feel of the man's skin under his fingers. "I am, too," he said quietly, following him into French. "Even if I did have to jump out of a cake to be here." It wasn't quite what Jean-Paul meant, but he hoped it was close enough.

Jean-Paul smiled a little, moving quite obviously up against the touch. "It's all right, Jake. This doesn't need to be anything else."

Jake stopped and set the cake down carefully on the wall, then turned to Jean-Paul. Before his partner could react, he pulled him in close and kissed him passionately, threading his fingers through the Canadian's hair. "Good enough?" he asked once they pulled apart, resting his forehead on Jean-Paul's.

The Canadian laughed softly. "That makes you sound like a consolation prize. We're good. Full stop."

Jake kissed him again, then smiled. "And we have tiramisu. Very good tiramisu. Which I'm pretty sure will taste better on one or both of us."

"If some drunken bastard ever stops hanging on you so that we can get that far." Jean-Paul exercised what was left of his willpower and forced himself to back an entire inch away from Jake. "Let's try this again."

"Sure." Jake grinned, leaning back to snag the tiramisu from where he'd left it. "Otherwise you'll try to fly me up to the roof again, and we both know how that ends."

"There is a very comfortable couch on the roof...no, no. Bad, terribly sexy Canadian. We can't do that around the students."

Jake responded by raising an eyebrow and starting to walk, arm still around Jean-Paul's waist. "Is this meant to talk me out of sex on the roof? Because the more you continue, the better it sounds."

"I like my job, Jake. Don't make me talk about being responsible on my birthday. Let's just go up to my room and my bed and do filthy things to each other." Jean-Paul nipped Jake playfully as they finally made their way up the stairs. "I'd very much like to feed you your dessert one inch at a time."

Jake pretended to pout. "If you insist," he sighed, "I suppose I could let myself be talked into that." He gently pushed Jean-Paul up against the door to his room, carefully balancing the plate. He leaned in to graze the tip of one ear with his teeth. "But I might not let you be entirely responsible tonight."