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This thing is probably useless, but making it has caused me an immense sense of satisfaction
so yes I am behind on my final papers and yes I do feel very bad about that
but also what I've been slowly writing instead has accumulated into the Most self-indulgent trope-riddled thing on the face of the planet, to the tune of 'best friends have gotten married for insurance purposes without talking about Feelings'
and the context comes from a load of long convoluted au worldbuilding that a friend and I have been throwing back and forth for the past few years, so it's not even headed for ao3
there's like, several chunks but this is the most internally complete:
anyway, names changed to protect the innocent (me), so just pretend this is OCs ft. fluff (warning for hospital setting (mostly just hallway); the other half of this setup had his husband down as emergency contact and that's what let the cat out of the bag):
but also what I've been slowly writing instead has accumulated into the Most self-indulgent trope-riddled thing on the face of the planet, to the tune of 'best friends have gotten married for insurance purposes without talking about Feelings'
and the context comes from a load of long convoluted au worldbuilding that a friend and I have been throwing back and forth for the past few years, so it's not even headed for ao3
there's like, several chunks but this is the most internally complete:
anyway, names changed to protect the innocent (me), so just pretend this is OCs ft. fluff (warning for hospital setting (mostly just hallway); the other half of this setup had his husband down as emergency contact and that's what let the cat out of the bag):
Honestly, this is what it’s about, he waved a hand at the utilitarian hall. It’s being there for him.
Eventually, Jean’s phone buzzed, waking him from the doze he’d fallen into, leaning against Will’s bed. He scrubbed the grit out of his eyes and dug it out, finding a text from his dad.
When you get this, I’ll be ready to talk.
Jean stared at the message, tapping the screen back to attention when it started to fade, and sighed. Next to him, Will slept on, and Jean dug the heels of his hands against his eyes again to block out the memory of the surgery report. He made it, he’s comfortable now, he reminded himself. He lifted his head again, watching Will sleep to prove it to himself.
Even by the soft glow of the monitor screens and safety lights, Will’s face caught dark shadows, and Jean caught himself before he woke him by running a touch along the tight line between his eyebrows. He could rest better at home, Jean promised. His hand tightened reflexively on his phone, instead, and he sat up, moving slowly so as not to jostle the bed.
He still had his phone out, to ask where Thomas wanted to meet him, when he stepped out and found his dad waiting directly across the hallway.
“Hey, T,” he said, a little startled. “I was just gonna -” he waved his phone.
“I thought this would be quickest.” Thomas’s voice carried in the quiet hall.
“Sure is.” Jean pocketed the phone. “You wanted to talk?”
Thomas nodded, and took a step back towards a set of folding chairs set into a slight recess. Jean followed his lead, and sat first. Thomas didn’t try to loom, but Jean crossed his arms anyway. Luckily, Thomas didn’t seem to be in the mood to draw it out.
“So. Husbands.”
Jean sighed. “Yeah, we are. I wrote up a thing back in business school and we both signed that this would happen if it still seemed like either of us would be needing some stability by 30. Stability as defined as a social and financial security net, most easily conferred by marriage. And seeing as we’re both still single, there was nothing blocking it going through.”
“You could have, though.”
“Yeah,” he said again, “we could’ve. But the things it was about were always just insurance, right? I mean, I was putting together my will around the same time, and why wait until I’m dead to make sure he’s got something under him? That was the thought process, so it didn’t seem like anything too outrageous.”
“Not in those terms,” Thomas agreed. “But that doesn’t make you less married, now.”
“No, T, it doesn’t, because that’s the way we agreed to make it work,” Jean snapped, wrung out. He rolled his shoulders to a series of pops down his back. “And yeah, I should’ve told you, I should’ve told everyone.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows. “You don’t say.”
“You were gone. You went undercover and we were telling everyone it was a yachts thing and Andy got us all those billionaire boys club sweaters, it was that time. And then Rachel was in Belgium and it turned out it was all coming out of one of our own subsidiaries, so there was that debacle. And then I had the audit rooting through my office and all that joy. And it’s not like this is the kind of thing you can say not in person, so since I couldn’t ever get everyone in the same place, it just ended up not happening.” He shrugged. “We could’ve gotten rings and put it on insta, but that really wouldn’t’ve been better. Or our style in the first place.”
Thomas was silent for a long minute, gaze measured. “So, what is your style, then? Is that really all there is, that this is a transactional undertaking?”
“All marriages are. It’s a contract, a piece of paper, not a whole wedding.”
“I suppose I’m glad you didn’t entirely elope, no.”
“You’re welcome.” Jean crossed his arms closer the other way, a little cold. “Sorry, though.”
Thomas sighed. “It’s done. It doesn’t look like it’s going to be undone. We’ll make it work.”
Jean’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, we will. Look, whatever the background is, I’m married to that guy now. It’s not gonna be something to work through,” he warned.
Thomas shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t an issue, but it is new. And I didn’t have any warning before being introduced to a major event in my son’s life. I’m playing catch-up, and I’d like to know more.”
Jean let out a breath. “That’s fair. More than fair.” He slumped back in the plastic chair, head knocking against the wall and eyes shut against his dad’s sharp stare.
“Honestly, this is what it’s about,” he waved a hand at the utilitarian hall. “It’s being there for him. It’s making sure he’s not left alone in the hospital, and that means having the right to know when he’s in trouble. Even if I can’t stop him from getting in trouble in the first place, ‘cause that’s pretty much our jobs.” He shook his head. “We all cut it close, now and then. But I usually only hear about it after the fact, I only know he’s been through hell when he’s already dragged himself back out. And he shouldn’t have to go through it without someone with him, right?”
Jean opened his eyes, and saw Thomas taking a breath to speak. He raised a hand before Thomas could start. “I know he’s got people. I know he has friends here, he’s not actually all alone. But I want to be the one there with him.”
It hung in the empty hall between them, and Jean blinked.
“I want to be there for him,” he said, turning the words over.
"Then it’s good that you can be, now.” Thomas sat down in the next chair and put an arm around Jean’s shoulders, tugging his son’s head to rest on his shoulder. “I’m not mad, Jean. I was just confused, and worried for both of you.”
“That’s what I told him, too. It might take a while for him to believe, though,” Jean stared at the closed door across from them.
Thomas matched his gaze. “Again with the confusion. But we’ll have something in common to chew through. We can work on it when he’s healing up at the manor, of course,” he said absently, and Jean turned to look at him. “What?”
“Really?”
“Really what?”
“I told him he could come back with me, we were just talking about it. And you really don’t mind, then?” Jean’s eyes were a little wide.
Thomas shifted to face him. “I don’t. I really don’t, listen. No, this isn’t how I would’ve wanted to find out, but that’s not going to overrule the fact that he’s your husband.” He nodded towards the door without looking away. “He’s my first kid-in-law, Jean, he’s family.” He shook his head. “And most importantly, he’s important to you. That’s got to trump everything else between us. He should always feel welcome under our roof.”
Jean took a deep breath and dropped his head back on his dad’s shoulder.
“I know I haven’t kept that door open. It’s not a good habit,” Thomas said, voice low, and Jean heard the apology.
“Again with the issues. We’ve all got ‘em,” Jean shrugged his far shoulder lightly, voice equally quiet. “We’ll work on it. Everyone’s got some fixing to do, when we get home.”
His eyelids were still heavy, dragging him down even with his head hanging sideways, and the next thing he knew, Thomas had caught his shoulder to keep him from tipping forward, boneless with exhaustion.
“I woke you earlier, didn’t I.”
Thomas wasn’t asking, but Jean nodded in any case. Thomas hummed and nodded, and then straightened up in the chair, nudging him to sit up as well.
“Alright, we talked, we’re done. Go on, then.”
Jean blinked at him slowly, brain fogged.
Thomas’s jaw twitched with a smile. “Go back to your husband, Jean. I’ll get you a blanket and head back to the rest of the gang.”
“I didn’t say good night to them,” Jean realised.
“I’ll pass it on. They’ll be glad you’re where you’ll get the most rest. Isn’t that right?”
Jean nodded.
"Then go.”
When you get this, I’ll be ready to talk.
Jean stared at the message, tapping the screen back to attention when it started to fade, and sighed. Next to him, Will slept on, and Jean dug the heels of his hands against his eyes again to block out the memory of the surgery report. He made it, he’s comfortable now, he reminded himself. He lifted his head again, watching Will sleep to prove it to himself.
Even by the soft glow of the monitor screens and safety lights, Will’s face caught dark shadows, and Jean caught himself before he woke him by running a touch along the tight line between his eyebrows. He could rest better at home, Jean promised. His hand tightened reflexively on his phone, instead, and he sat up, moving slowly so as not to jostle the bed.
He still had his phone out, to ask where Thomas wanted to meet him, when he stepped out and found his dad waiting directly across the hallway.
“Hey, T,” he said, a little startled. “I was just gonna -” he waved his phone.
“I thought this would be quickest.” Thomas’s voice carried in the quiet hall.
“Sure is.” Jean pocketed the phone. “You wanted to talk?”
Thomas nodded, and took a step back towards a set of folding chairs set into a slight recess. Jean followed his lead, and sat first. Thomas didn’t try to loom, but Jean crossed his arms anyway. Luckily, Thomas didn’t seem to be in the mood to draw it out.
“So. Husbands.”
Jean sighed. “Yeah, we are. I wrote up a thing back in business school and we both signed that this would happen if it still seemed like either of us would be needing some stability by 30. Stability as defined as a social and financial security net, most easily conferred by marriage. And seeing as we’re both still single, there was nothing blocking it going through.”
“You could have, though.”
“Yeah,” he said again, “we could’ve. But the things it was about were always just insurance, right? I mean, I was putting together my will around the same time, and why wait until I’m dead to make sure he’s got something under him? That was the thought process, so it didn’t seem like anything too outrageous.”
“Not in those terms,” Thomas agreed. “But that doesn’t make you less married, now.”
“No, T, it doesn’t, because that’s the way we agreed to make it work,” Jean snapped, wrung out. He rolled his shoulders to a series of pops down his back. “And yeah, I should’ve told you, I should’ve told everyone.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows. “You don’t say.”
“You were gone. You went undercover and we were telling everyone it was a yachts thing and Andy got us all those billionaire boys club sweaters, it was that time. And then Rachel was in Belgium and it turned out it was all coming out of one of our own subsidiaries, so there was that debacle. And then I had the audit rooting through my office and all that joy. And it’s not like this is the kind of thing you can say not in person, so since I couldn’t ever get everyone in the same place, it just ended up not happening.” He shrugged. “We could’ve gotten rings and put it on insta, but that really wouldn’t’ve been better. Or our style in the first place.”
Thomas was silent for a long minute, gaze measured. “So, what is your style, then? Is that really all there is, that this is a transactional undertaking?”
“All marriages are. It’s a contract, a piece of paper, not a whole wedding.”
“I suppose I’m glad you didn’t entirely elope, no.”
“You’re welcome.” Jean crossed his arms closer the other way, a little cold. “Sorry, though.”
Thomas sighed. “It’s done. It doesn’t look like it’s going to be undone. We’ll make it work.”
Jean’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, we will. Look, whatever the background is, I’m married to that guy now. It’s not gonna be something to work through,” he warned.
Thomas shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t an issue, but it is new. And I didn’t have any warning before being introduced to a major event in my son’s life. I’m playing catch-up, and I’d like to know more.”
Jean let out a breath. “That’s fair. More than fair.” He slumped back in the plastic chair, head knocking against the wall and eyes shut against his dad’s sharp stare.
“Honestly, this is what it’s about,” he waved a hand at the utilitarian hall. “It’s being there for him. It’s making sure he’s not left alone in the hospital, and that means having the right to know when he’s in trouble. Even if I can’t stop him from getting in trouble in the first place, ‘cause that’s pretty much our jobs.” He shook his head. “We all cut it close, now and then. But I usually only hear about it after the fact, I only know he’s been through hell when he’s already dragged himself back out. And he shouldn’t have to go through it without someone with him, right?”
Jean opened his eyes, and saw Thomas taking a breath to speak. He raised a hand before Thomas could start. “I know he’s got people. I know he has friends here, he’s not actually all alone. But I want to be the one there with him.”
It hung in the empty hall between them, and Jean blinked.
“I want to be there for him,” he said, turning the words over.
"Then it’s good that you can be, now.” Thomas sat down in the next chair and put an arm around Jean’s shoulders, tugging his son’s head to rest on his shoulder. “I’m not mad, Jean. I was just confused, and worried for both of you.”
“That’s what I told him, too. It might take a while for him to believe, though,” Jean stared at the closed door across from them.
Thomas matched his gaze. “Again with the confusion. But we’ll have something in common to chew through. We can work on it when he’s healing up at the manor, of course,” he said absently, and Jean turned to look at him. “What?”
“Really?”
“Really what?”
“I told him he could come back with me, we were just talking about it. And you really don’t mind, then?” Jean’s eyes were a little wide.
Thomas shifted to face him. “I don’t. I really don’t, listen. No, this isn’t how I would’ve wanted to find out, but that’s not going to overrule the fact that he’s your husband.” He nodded towards the door without looking away. “He’s my first kid-in-law, Jean, he’s family.” He shook his head. “And most importantly, he’s important to you. That’s got to trump everything else between us. He should always feel welcome under our roof.”
Jean took a deep breath and dropped his head back on his dad’s shoulder.
“I know I haven’t kept that door open. It’s not a good habit,” Thomas said, voice low, and Jean heard the apology.
“Again with the issues. We’ve all got ‘em,” Jean shrugged his far shoulder lightly, voice equally quiet. “We’ll work on it. Everyone’s got some fixing to do, when we get home.”
His eyelids were still heavy, dragging him down even with his head hanging sideways, and the next thing he knew, Thomas had caught his shoulder to keep him from tipping forward, boneless with exhaustion.
“I woke you earlier, didn’t I.”
Thomas wasn’t asking, but Jean nodded in any case. Thomas hummed and nodded, and then straightened up in the chair, nudging him to sit up as well.
“Alright, we talked, we’re done. Go on, then.”
Jean blinked at him slowly, brain fogged.
Thomas’s jaw twitched with a smile. “Go back to your husband, Jean. I’ll get you a blanket and head back to the rest of the gang.”
“I didn’t say good night to them,” Jean realised.
“I’ll pass it on. They’ll be glad you’re where you’ll get the most rest. Isn’t that right?”
Jean nodded.
"Then go.”