Swept off his feet (literally)

      Fantastic, Jean thinks to himself as demon blood splashes onto his shirt, its warmth seeping through the material and clinging to his skin. Disgusting.       The demons have surrounded him and Neil in suspiciously coordinated moves, thus blocking them every exit from the alleyway. On the bright side, it means that their intel has been correct and their perpetrator the Shadowhunters have been trying to pin down for a week now is somewhere nearby.       The fight wouldn’t be a tough one if Jean and Neil didn’t need to focus on looking around for the fucker.       Jean slashes at the demon who nearly got him in the shoulder, and looks around, praying to the Angel for some luck to spot anything odd.       And there, in the shadowed corner of the alley — a figure in a black cloak. How cliché is this?       Jean tries to get to the person, but the demons keep blocking his way. So. Annoying.       Neil disappeared from his side a few minutes ago to stop the demons from getting to the mundanes on the street. He seems to be handling everything well, so Jean turns his attention back to the horde of demons surrounding him.       The cloaked figure has moved somewhere, and Jean scans the shadows around him while trying not to get bitten. He doesn’t see anything there though, which isn’t ideal.       As he stabs a demon through its neck, there’s a hissing sound of a weapon being drawn just behind Jean’s back. He tries to turn around quickly, but something collides with him, and he hits the ground hard. Just in time as the blade flashes exactly where Jean stood just a second ago. The person disappears then, and Jean is sure he sees someone running after them. He doesn’t see anything more because his vision is being blocked by a person. A very attractive person.       A pair of beautiful brown eyes circled with gold look down at him. Great, just his luck that he got pinned down by a werewolf.       One that has a beautiful smile, though.       “Hi.” The man’s grin is almost blinding. “I’m Jeremy.” A lock of blond hair falls down on his forehead.       Attractive and with a nice voice? The world is a cruel place indeed.       Pull yourself together, Moreau, Jean scolds himself. He clears his throat. “Jean Moreau,” he says to Jeremy.       “A pleasure.” The man smiles even wider.       Jean is screwed.       The sound of the fight dies around them, the demons disappearing off to somewhere, just like the cloaked figure. Jean can’t help the pang of disappointment that they escaped yet again. But the worst thing is that Kevin will bitch about it for the next century.       More investigation incoming, then. Jean just can’t wait.       Neil starts walking towards him and Jeremy leisurely, busy with wiping ichor from his blade, his auburn hair in disarray. When he looks up and sees Jeremy though, his body goes rigid and his steps become more calculated. His worry hits Jean like a freight train, the bond pulsing with it.       Now he realizes what position he and Jeremy are in and blushes. No wonder Neil thinks the worst.       This will go great.       It feels good to have someone fight for him no matter what — he didn’t have anyone like this before Neil came into his life — but his parabatai’s protective streak takes things too far sometimes.       “Back away.” Neil sounds like he’s one step away from commiting murder. Which probably isn’t far from the truth, come to think of it.       Jeremy gets up slowly with his hands raised in a placating manner. “Hey man, no ill intentions here.” His voice is calm, but Jean can hear the nervousness there. It’s understandable, honestly. He’s heard people call his parabatai an ‘angel of death’ behind his back because of his threatening aura whenever he wants to seem that way. Neil shrugs it off, but Jean can see that sometimes it bothers him.       Jean gets up too, and tries to shake off the dirt from his shirt, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Just great. At least the lack of light and black material helps hide his sorry state.       Neil gives him a once over, looking for any sign of injury. “You okay?” he asks in French.       Jean doesn’t roll his eyes this time, but it’s a close thing. “Yes,” he says curtly, and the answer seems to satisfy Neil.       The situation is still tense, and Jean realizes now how close Jeremy stands next to him, which does nothing to help with the heavy atmosphere.       “Who are you?” Neil asks, not even trying to hide his hostility, and still holding his sword. It’s like he’s thrown all the diplomacy through the window (which happens quite often, honestly). Jean is sure that he will go gray too early because of his parabatai’s antics.       Before Neil does something stupid like stabbing someone, Jean takes his arm holding the sword and pulls him towards himself. “Excuse my friend,” Jean says to Jeremy. “He must have hit his head too hard.” He looks pointedly at Neil, conceiving the message: ‘Calm the fuck down.’       Neil glares back at him, but stays by his side, fortunately. So he can listen, after all, Jean notes with satisfaction. Some of it has seeped through the bond probably, because Neil elbows him in the ribs. Fucking menace.       Jeremy looks wary, but the smile is still there. “Jeremy Knox.” Fortunately, he doesn’t try to shake hands. “A new member of the local pack.”       That explains why they didn’t meet him earlier. Is he freshly turned? But lately they’ve heard nothing about werewolf attacks in the area. Besides, Jeremy seems too in-control for someone that developed lycanthropy recently.       For now, Jean leaves the trail of thought. To his embarrassment, he hasn’t thanked Jeremy yet.       Trying not to stare at the man, he says, “Thank you.” His voice sounds strained and he winces. This isn’t his best day.       The gratitude is honest — without the werewolf’s help the whole ordeal would probably end with Jean getting stabbed or sliced open. Been there, done that — he really doesn’t recommend it.       Especially if your parabatai is a hovering asshole, but Jean wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe creating the bond wasn’t something they had any say in, but to Jean the connection is invaluable, and he’s glad for the outcome despite the circumstances.       Jeremy smiles, his eyes crinkling, and Jean feels butterflies in his stomach, as if he is experiencing his first crush. Get it together, he scolds himself.       “No problem,” Jeremy says with a shrug.       A woman comes to the alley, her shoulders slumped. “They got away,” she tells them, clearly disappointed. Her eyes have the same golden ring around the pupil as Jeremy. “The trail disappeared, too.”       A frown appears on Jeremy’s face. “We should tell the others it’s best if they stay at home. If this person now attacks Shadowhunters too, we shouldn’t underestimate them.”       The woman nods, looking as distraught as Jeremy.       The gloom mood is cut short by Neil. “Who are you? And what were you doing here?” he asks. Reasonable questions, surprisingly.       “My bad,” says the woman, a friendly smile on her face. “I’m Cat.”       Jean holds back a snort when he hears it. Is she being serious? He wouldn’t be surprised if she chose this name specifically for the laughs.       “Okay, Cat,” Neil says, putting some emphasis, which has Jean’s eyes rolling, “why are you two here?” His voice is full of suspicion.       Jeremy crosses his arms, his muscles flexing, the short sleeves of his T-shirt stretching. Jean really tries not to stare, but it’s nearly impossible.       “One of ours is missing,” Jeremy says somberly. “He went after the Demon-whisperer”— what is this name —”because they keep on getting into our territory.”       That’s news to Jean and Neil. There haven’t been any reports about a missing werewolf, only that the ‘Demon-whisperer’ is attacking the Downworlders, for whatever reason.       At the inquisitive looks from the two Sadowhunters, Jeremy clarifies, “Lucas Johnson is missing.”       Ah, the Shadowhunter-turned-werewolf, the disowned brother of Grayson. When the news reached the Institute, Grayson swore to ‘end his brother’s misery’ with his blade, his obsession with his new mission making him delusional. Jean had the absolute pleasure of being at the receiving end of his temper.       In the end, Lucas went into hiding, and Grayson went to an early grave because of an accident during a hunt. A tragic tale, but Jean can’t bring himself to pity the fucker — he deserved what was coming for him (but he can’t shake the feeling that Neil had something to do with the ‘accident’).       “Any ideas on where he might be?” Jean asks.       “Nope,” Cat replies, popping the ‘p’. “No clues whatsoever.” There are dark circles under her eyes, just like under Jeremy’s.       That’s just great, Jean thinks. The case is getting even more tangled, and he feels tired just thinking about it.       “We’ll look into it,” he says, feeling the headache building.       In an instant, the radiant smile on Jeremy’s face is back. “Thank you!” He nearly vibrates in place from excitement. “We appreciate the help.”       The smile turns awkward then. “So, uh, do you guys use phones? So we can keep in touch.” Jeremy rubs his neck nervously.       “We’re not some cavemen, you know.” Neil raises his eyebrows, not impressed with the question at all.       Cat looks them up and down, and Jean tries not to squirm, the sudden embarrassment burning his cheeks. Okay, point made. Jean and Neil probably look a bit battered now, having been patrolling for hours now, with few occasional fights here and there, so of course that they’re not looking the best now.       “Can I have your number?” Jeremy asks, getting back on topic. “So we can keep in touch.”       Someone take mercy on Jean’s poor heart because the way it’s just stuttered can’t be healthy.       Neil doesn’t even try to hold back his amusement, the cheerful feeling flowing through their bond. When Jean glares at him, and the little menace looks right back, feigning innocence.       Before he can chicken out, Jean takes the phone Jeremy offered and saves his number there. When he hands it back, his fingers brush briefly with Jeremy’s, and for some reason it makes Jean blush. Great.       After enthusiastic goodbyes from the werewolves, Jean watches as they disappear around the corner. The night seems darker now when Jeremy isn’t here.       Of course, Neil doesn’t let him off of the hook. “Seriously? A werewolf now?” He looks at him incredulously, but there’s a teasing smile on his face that Jean wants to smack off. Of course Neil noticed what was going in Jean’s mind during their run-in with Jeremy.       Jean gives into the urge and cuffs Neil on the forehead. The man reacts with an outraged ‘Hey! ’ but the grin is still there.       “Like you’re any better.” Jean huffs at Neil’s inquisitive look. “Oh please, you and Minyard are so obvious.”       “What?” Neil stops in his tracks, his eyebrows raised. Jean can practically feel Neil’s bewilderment.       Seriously? He didn’t know Neil is that big of an idiot. The blond warlock basically eye-fucks Neil whenever the man assists them. It’s disgusting, and Jean should receive compensation for being subjected to seeing this.       He can tell that Neil really cares for the warlock too, but obviously his parabatai hasn’t figured his feelings out yet.       “The man would get down on his knees and blow you if you asked him,” Jean says bluntly.       Neil still looks puzzled, his eyes even wider than before. No — Jean is done with him and the topic. The menace has to figure it out himself.       But Neil is growing more anxious with every second, and it would be cruel to leave him like this. Dammit — the things Jean does for him. The idiot better appreciate it.       “Just talk to him,” he says, nudging Neil’s side, then adds, “It’ll be alright.”       Some of the tension leaves Neil’s body, and a deep sigh leaves him. He starts walking again, and Jean immediately follows in step.       If the warlock breaks Neil’s heart, nobody will ever find or recognize the body.       They walk back towards the Institute in a comfortable silence, their shoulders nearly touching and the bond humming with contentment. The air feels heavy with the upcoming rain, and the mundanes around them are hurrying towards their homes before the downpour, totally oblivious to the two Shadowhunters walking among them.       His thoughts circle back to Jeremy, despite his best effort to not dwell on the interaction. It’s foolish to get hopeful about something that’s doomed to fail from the start. The Downworlders and Nephilim are too different, so any kind of relationship would end just after it started. And that doesn’t cover the topic of same-sex relationships.       Except that Jean has seen some Shadowhunters being close with Downworlders, like Neil’s ‘nothing’ with Andrew or the friendship with Boyd. Jean himself keeps in touch with Renee, but he doesn’t know what they are to each other — ‘friendship’ doesn’t really cover it when she literally saved his life, and they haven’t done anything to call themselves ‘lovers.’       Is getting close to Downworlders frowned upon? Yes, very much so in some circles, though the world is moving forward, with the shadowhunters trying to change their ways to avoid yet another war. It’s a slow process, though, and it might take years to bear fruit.       But it won’t hurt to just look for now when they meet Jeremy again, will it?