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Nighttime Rituals

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It doesn’t surprise Kim that Jean is an insomniac who refuses to take medicine for it; if anything, he should’ve already seen it.

Jean at least has the decency to keep himself out of Kim’s space, though it seems futile in the tiny apartment. Kim being a light sleeper doesn't help much, either, but he appreciates the effort in Jean attempting to be considerate while not being overly conscious of Kim’s presence. If this is how Jean is at night, Kim won’t interfere, though it does make Kim wonder if Harry would be any better. Probably not. Harry’s snoring was loud enough that Kim could hear it in his room next door when they were staying in Martinaise, and that's without factoring in the nightmares. 

All of this background noise does seem peaceful in comparison to the work they were doing on his own apartment complex, temporarily displacing him elsewhere - which happened to be Jean Vicquemare’s futon. While Harry did live closer to the station, he had no room to offer Kim. A futon in Jean’s front room wasn’t ideal, either, but he would rather tolerate it than encroach upon anyone else in the C-Wing. 

Speaking of - someone had failed to inform Kim that Jean had a cat. He doesn't mind pets but the cat seems to mind Kim, who has apparently taken her spot on the futon. She has instead decided on claiming Jean’s gym bag, left on the floor and covered in her hair. 

It was Kim’s second night here. The first night he had been too tired moving his belongings over and promptly fell asleep after a late dinner. He woke in the morning to the sound of Jean talking to his cat as he made coffee. When he noticed Kim was awake, he immediately became flustered and apologized; Kim insisted it was fine and would rather Jean act as if he wasn't there and to continue his normal routine. He was already inconveniencing Jean enough, he didn’t want the man to feel like he had to play host just for Kim. 

Work went as usual, and Kim bought groceries to make dinner. They ate, talked about nothing in particular, then went their separate ways: Kim, on the couch with his daily crossword; Jean, doing some exercises and taking a shower before closing his door for the night. 

Between then and now, Kim wasn't sure if Jean slept at all. It wasn't his business, of course, but judging from other habits Kim has picked up, the officer may as well be chain smoking out the window and staring at a wall, doing absolutely nothing for hours on end. Except suddenly deciding to clean his room, apparently, if the opening and closing of dresser drawers meant anything. 

Rolling on to his back, Kim rubs his palms into his eyes and sighs. Throwing the thin blanket back, he carefully navigates the room to the bathroom, where he does his business and squints at his reflection while washing his hands. Same old, same old. Another dirty mirror. 

Back in the hallway, Kim is greeted by a mass of fur, rubbing against his leg. If her white coat didn’t stand out as much as it did in the dark, Kim might’ve yelped in surprise, but he recognized her just in time. 

“Hello,” he whispers, bending forward to let her sniff his fingers. After she does, she butts her head against his hand, circles his legs once and walks towards the closed bedroom door. The light under the door frame has gone dark and the movement has stopped. 

“He’s asleep,” Kim tells the cat. “Your bed is out here.” Pointing as if she could understand, it occurs to Kim that if Jean had gone to his room to workout, he might’ve taken his bag in with him - the spot Kim was pointing to was devoid of a bag. “Huh.” Glancing towards the bedroom door, he feels a sense of unease; what if Jean had managed to actually fall asleep and opening the door would wake him up? What if the door was locked and he had to knock to let the cat in?  

If she could read his thoughts, the cat struts to Jean’s door, gets on her back legs and paws helplessly up at the doorknob. 

Coming to the decision she was boss, Kim carefully approaches the door and knocks to no answer. Knocking again, the cat at his feet meows, but nothing changes. Slowly, Kim turns the knob and finds it unlocked, then cautiously pushes it open enough the cat can slip through. 

But she doesn't. 

She sits at his feet and looks up to Kim, blinking. 

“Come on, go.” 

Instead, she circles Kim’s legs again, rubbing against him and meowing. 

“Your food and bed are in there. I can't do anything for you here.”

Disappointed by the lack of affection she was receiving from Kim, she meanders back to the kitchen, suddenly moody. 

Since Kim had already opened the door, he did not want to have to bother Jean again. Stalking after the cat, he scoops her up - much to her displeasure - and carries her back. Nudging open the door with his elbow, Kim gives himself enough room to deposit the cat, gently tossing her in so she couldn’t then walk back out. 

While Kim has never been inside Jean’s room, now was not the time to look around. He does, however, try to briefly glance in to confirm Jean’s bag/cat bed is indeed in the room. He spots it at the foot of the bed, then notices Jean in bed - and not asleep.

No, rather, quite the opposite. 

On the bedside table is a portable radio with a pair of headphones connected, which are snug on Jean’s ears. Not that Kim can really tell with the way Jean’s face is pressed into his pillow, on his knees with his ass up. One hand on his dick, the other—

Kim closes the door as quietly as he can.

A few seconds later, the cat lets out a mournful cry, which startles Jean into ripping off the headphones and knocking the radio to the floor, followed by a series of swears. 

Already back under the blanket, Kim knows Jean can easily connect the dots on how she got in. There is more clatter as Jean tries to hastily clean himself up, pick up his toppled over items, settle his cat and redress. 

Hesitantly, the bedroom door opens and Jean steps out, taking a few quiet steps until Kim’s sleeping form is visible. 

“… Kitsuragi?”

Kim doesn't respond

“Khm. Uh, Kim?” 

Nothing. 

Kim knows he is not good at pretending to be asleep, and is sure Jean can tell, but when he doesn't get a reply he seems to give up, slipping onto the bathroom to wash up, then locks his door. 

Even the cat is silent. 

Kim goes back to sleep. 


Waking up first, Kim does the polite thing of starting the coffee. Glancing at the clock, he realizes not only does he have enough time to make breakfast, but time to offer Harry breakfast and a ride to work. It may not put Jean in a good mood for the morning, but it’s a guaranteed way they can postpone the conversation for a little while. 

Dialing Harry’s number, Kim keeps a trained ear for any signs of Jean being awake. 

“Ring ring, Harry speaking.”

“Good morning, Harry.”

“Kim! Glad to hear you've made it a second night. Or maybe not and you killed Jean in his sleep and you're calling me to help dispose of the body.”

“That is not while I’m calling, no, but that does prompt the question: do you know how to dispose of a body?”

Pssscht,” Harry scoffs, “of course not, Kim! What kind of a monster do you think I am?”

“Hopefully a hungry monster, because I called you to invite you to breakfast.”

“Man, maybe you did kill Jean. I didn’t think I’d ever be invited to his place again.”

“Don't make me regret the offer.”

“If you’re cooking then fuck yeah I’ll come over - give me like ten minutes.” Harry hangs up before Kim can say anything else. Placing the phone back, Kim begins washing vegetables to cut up, listening to the sound of neighbors living around him and trying to get the image of Jean from last night out of his mind; it proves to be more of a challenge than Kim expected, but he quickly rewires his mind to focus on breakfast and solely breakfast.

So focused, in fact, he misses Harry knocking on the door until it becomes loud enough it wakes Jean up, who lets out a loud groan from the bedroom. 

Hurriedly walking to the door, Kim undoes the locks and smiles at Harry, who is still flushed from his run.

“Mornin’.” 

“Hello, Harry. Did you have a nice run?”

“Mm-hmm. I could smell your cooking a million miles away.”

“That is improbable, but flattering. I hope it can live up to your expectations.”

“Anything you do is already otherworldly, Kim.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Standing in the doorway, Jean is wearing a wrinkled undershirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, complemented by one sock, frowning at Harry with a glare hot enough to burn.

“I thought I would invite him over for a quick breakfast before work. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Jean minds a whole fucking lot, but holds his tongue and locks himself in the bathroom, running the tap.

“Yeesh,” Harry whispers, “is that why you called me over?”

“Something along those lines.”

“He’s never been a morning person.”

“I believe he’s an insomniac.”

That makes Harry pause, looking at Kim with a curious expression. 

“Insomnia is a medical condition where an individual has difficulty sleeping - be it falling asleep or staying asleep,” Kim supplies.

“I thought that was just… normal for cops.”

“With the hours we work, I can understand that. Forget I said anything. Would you like toast?”

“Nah. I need to cut out some carbs in order to keep my girlish figure." For show, Harry pats his belly; only slightly slimmer than when they had met, the beer gut is a permanent resident, bulging under his shirts. 

After Kim has finished plating their omelets, Jean finally decides to join them, though he stands to eat - there are only two kitchen chairs, after all, and the other seating is Kim’s makeshift bed. 

“How’re you liking la casa de Jean?” Loosely gesturing towards the futon, Harry purses his lips when he exhales smoke. 

“It’s not the worst arrangement I’ve been in,” Kim replies. “I sleep well enough.”

“Do you?” Jean asks suddenly, looking at Kim.

Turning towards him, Kim keeps his gaze. “Yes,” he says. “I slept through the night without any issue.” 

His expression dares Jean to counter him, to call him out on his fib, but the younger officer looks away. 

“But I bet you can’t wait to get back to your place, huh?” Harry continues, thankfully deciding to not comment on that exchange. “We should have a housewarming party for you.”

“Sure,” Kim smirks, “to celebrate the christening of the new insulation they decided to relocate everyone over.”

“Maybe then it won’t be so cold in the winter.”

“That’s a little redundant if I’m going to be moving once my lease is up.”

“Yeah, well,” and Harry clears his throat, glancing around the room. “That was good, Kim. Master Chef Kitsuragi.” 

“It was nothing special.” Gathering their plates, Kim washes them in the sink while Jean finishes getting dressed for work and Harry passes the time playing with the cat. 

“Ready for work, gentlemen?” Kim asks, keys in his palm, the noise softened beneath his leather gloves. 

“Breakfast and a ride? Kiiiiim, there must be something going on.” Strutting his hip out, Harry wags his finger. “Is there something you aren’t telling me, young man?”

“I can walk,” Jean interrupts, cuffing his sleeves. “I need to grab a paper, anyway.”

“I don’t mind. It’s still early enough that we can stop by a newsstand on our way in.” 

“I want to walk.”

“Yeowch,” Harry grimaces, “you really woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?”

“I suppose I’ll see you in the office, then,” is Kim’s reply, heading out the door and down the apartment hallway. Harry gives Jean a look before following after Kim, footsteps echoing on the stairwell until they reach the Kineema. 

“What the hell was that all about?”

“I think he and I are simply in each other’s space too much.”

“Hm.” Sliding into the front seat, Harry taps his fingers on his thigh for a long moment before speaking again. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“Nothing did.”

“Kim,” he frowns, “I’m trying to resolve this issue.”

“There is no issue. I told you, we simply aren’t used to being around each other in this capacity.”

“There’s something there, Kim, and I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Kim turns on the fuel preheater gauge and doesn’t answer.

“No, wait - you walked in on him crankin’ his hog, didn’t you?”

The engine roars alive, settling into a loud purr. 

“It happens to the best of us,” Harry offers. “You just pretend it didn’t happen and move on - everyone does it, so what?”

“I am pretending it didn’t happen, and it doesn’t seem to be working well.”

“Jean’s caught me several times,” he shrugs, “you get over it.”

“I refuse to believe it was that simple between you two. Besides that, I am a guest in his home and do not wish to make anything more hostile than it needs to be, so I would appreciate it if this conversation is not brought up again.”

Clicking his tongue, Harry crosses his arms and leans back in the seat. 

“Alright. But if he’s gonna act like an asshole about it then I need to—”

“Do nothing, Harry, because I didn’t tell you about this.” 

Harry, however, doesn’t respond because he spots Jean walking down the sidewalk, promptly opening the vehicle door and yelling out - “hey, Vicquemare!”

Turning around, Jean looks for the source of sound but quickly frowns upon realization.

“What? What do you want?”

“Fuck you!” Giving him the bird, Jean rolls his eyes. 

“Real mature! Go eat shit,” and Jean flips him off back. 

“You eat shit!”

“Think of a better comeback, asshole!”

“Suck my dick!” 

“I already had breakfast!”

“Yeah, your mom!”

“That doesn’t even fucking make sense!”

“I’ll see you at work, officer,” and Kim reaches across Harry’s lap to pull the door shut, changes gears and peels away from the curb.

“Sorry,” with a half-assed shrug, Harry apologizes, though he seems to have had fun heckling Jean in public. Thankfully it drops the topic and they make it to the station; Jean clocks in not too long after, bringing a copy of the newspaper with him. 

The rest of the day passes with little interaction. 

Of course, they still go back to Jean’s apartment at the end of the day. Harry offers to come over to try and dissipate any bad vibes, but Kim realizes he’ll have to address it at some point.

“Kim,” Jean says nervously; not used to using his first name, but finding it inappropriate to use titles while in a casual setting. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a pan of leftovers reheating on the stove top while Kim sits at the table with his cigarette.

“Yes?”

“Khm. Uh, sorry about last night.”

“What about last night?” 

Jean grimaces. “Are you going to make me say it? You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jean gathers himself for a moment.

“If anything,” Kim says, ashing his cigarette, “I should be the one apologizing for barging in like that. For that, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Okay. I mean— I shouldn’t have… while you were here, and—”

“I told you - I don’t want you to disrupt your personal life just because I’m here. If that's how you spend your nights, then that's no concern of mine.”

“Sure, but—”

That is also none of my business. My opinion of you hasn’t changed - personally or professionally - and you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel better that we talked about it?”

“Honestly? No.” Shifting his weight, Jean stirs the food for something to do. “Feels like you had those answers ready, like a script.”

“Well.” Putting out his cigarette, Kim turns his attention fully to Jean, chin propped on his fist. “Would you prefer to talk about it in great detail so you can feel properly punished and humiliated?”

That makes Jean blush a little, high on his cheeks, and unfortunately stirs feeling in his dick at the idea of Kim administering some type of punishment for his misbehaving. 

“I will take that as a yes. I would be completely content moving past it, but since it seems to be weighing heavily on your mind, then—” Kim gestures with his hand in the air, telling Jean the floor is his.

“Fuck. Nevermind, this was a bad idea.”

“Jean. We are either going to talk about it and get it over with, or it will continue to eat away at you and interfere with your interactions with me. I believe you are competent enough to make a decision.”

Inhaling through his teeth, Jean leans his weight on the counter and crosses his ankles. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles lamely.

“If you think I’m bothered by any of this, I’m not. I’m too old to get hung up over these sorts of things. It has happened to me, it will probably happen to you again at some point. Privacy is a rarity.”

“Did you invite Harry over to avoid this?”

“I did. It probably made things worse, correct?”

“Yeah. His mug isn’t my favorite thing to see in the morning. Or any time of the day.”

“Well.” The pan begins to pop; Jean turns the stove off, dishes dinner on plates, and hands one to Kim. 

“…Are you really, uh, not bothered?”

“No, I can assure you I’m not.”

“Alright,” Jean exhales, shoulders sinking with the weight taken off of him.

“Is that what was concerning you the most?”

“Of fucking course it was,” he snaps, then bites his tongue. “Didn’t want you to be scared off because you’re rooming with some faggot.”

Subtly, Kim’s upper lip quirks at that; Jean notices and becomes offensive, but Kim cuts him off before Jean can get into it.

“I'm not laughing at you - I just find the situation amusing. I didn’t think younger folks cared about these things as much anymore.”

“Like there aren’t a bunch of assholes who already hate us for being cops - being gay just gives them the excuse to justify it. Some homo pig is worse than a regular pig.”

“Still better than a racist pig,” Kim hums, “though those can be synonymous.” 

Tapping his fork against his bottom lip, Kim cocks his head slightly and studies the man across from him.

“Hm. Were you actually wanting me to chastise you for your indecent behavior?” 

Jean blinks and then quickly looks away, to the floor where his cat is curled up on his bag.

“For being a, khm, naughty boy?” 

Swallowing with effort, Jean slowly shakes his head. 

“Answer the question. Verbally.”

“No. No.”

“No? Are you lying to me, now?”

Kim waits a beat to see how Jean reacts. Though he shakes his head and says no, he is visibly becoming flustered and aroused, fidgeting just subtly enough that Kim can tell he's rubbing his thighs together under the table.

“If you weren't being naughty, tell me what you were doing after we went to bed last night.”

“Sleeping.”

“You and I both know that's the wrong answer. You get one more attempt.”

“Fucking— jerking off, alright?”

“Be more specific. What were you doing last night?”

“Fuck. Fine. I was in bed, listening to the radio and fucking myself. Happy?” Digging his nails into his palm, Jean is trying to keep himself at bay - either from losing his temper, losing this game or losing himself too soon. 

Kim, having remained expressionless, pushes up his glasses with his knuckle before standing and looking down to Jean, expecting him to get up as well. His cargo pants hide his arousal well enough Jean can’t tell, but doesn’t want to ogle too long. 

Walking down the hall, Kim stops at the bedroom doorway, giving Jean the option to move forward or stop. 

He walks into his room and sits on the edge of his bed, anticipating.

“I want you to show me what I saw last night.” Kim’s voice is soft - another chance to give Jean an out.

Undoing his tie, Jean drops his gaze down to the floor when Kim snaps his fingers and tells him to look up, at him. With a sharp inhale, Jean forces himself to, unbuttoning his shirt but opting to keep his undershirt on, beginning to work on his belt and trousers. He only briefly breaks eye contact when he stands to kick everything out of the way, then sits back on the bed in his boxers. 

Raising an eyebrow, Kim silently orders Jean to continue with a nudge of his chin. Crawling up higher on the bed, Jean reaches under his bed, then produces a bottle of lubricant and a long, slim plastic toy. Setting them on the mattress beside him, he waits for Kim’s next instructions.

“What were you listening to on the radio?”

“Oh.” Casting a glance, the object in question sits on the bedside table, headphones still plugged in. “Just a recording of an aerostat.” He sounds more embarrassed about that than anything else so far. “Background noise helps me stop thinking so much.”

“You touch yourself to the sounds of an aerostat?” Kim teases, hands folded behind his back. It’s charming to him, though Jean regrets answering so truthfully. 

“Whatever. Are we doing this or not?”

We?”

“What, was I just going to walk you through my masturbation routine?”

“Yes,” he nods. “That's what you want, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me.” 

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Jean sits on his heels and glares at Kim, standing across the room. 

“This is fucking stupid.”

Briefly, Kim considers asking Jean if he wants to stop and apologizing for taking this too far, but the man’s body language tells Kim he’s playing along and wants to be defiant - part of the game.

“You just don't want to admit you’re a degenerate,” Kim tests; Jean’s eyes widen and his breath catches. “Caught touching yourself, knowing you had a guest over. Maybe you didn’t lock the door on purpose - maybe you wanted to be walked in on.”

“No, I was trying to be quiet—”

“Oh? Are you usually loud?” 

“That's not…”

“What a dirty boy,” he tuts. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave the door open for everyone to see.” 

“I wouldn’t do something that fucking stupid.”

“Mm-mm,” Kim holds a single finger up, immediately stopping Jean from continuing. “Naughty boys don’t get to talk if they’re just going to lie. Now, show me.”

Huffing, Jean doesn't move, but his eyes flicker over to the goods laying out on the covers. 

“Show me how much you want me to see you expose yourself; how someone as depraved as you gets off, knowing he could be walked in on. Wanting to be caught.”

Though he still exhibits a bit of resistance, Jean does reach a hand down, beginning to palm his dick over the fabric of his boxers. He’s not fully hard, but the touch makes his hips jolt slightly. 

“Well? I don’t have all night - I wake up early in the morning.” Walking over to the small desk in the corner of the room, Kim settles his weight against it, crossing his ankles together. “Don't tell me you’re shy, now.”

“I don't like being bossed around,” he snaps. 

“What did I say about not lying?” With a stern frown that makes Jean shiver, Kim snaps his fingers and motions for Jean to move on. “If you don't like being bossed around, then do what you’re told, officer.”

Pulling rank isn’t fair but goddamn if it doesn’t push the right buttons for Jean; something to think about, later, when his mind is not as clouded with arousal. Sliding his hand beneath his waistband, he starts to stroke himself, resisting the urge to buck into his hand. 

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” For a quick second, Kim smiles - devious, but pleased. “But you know that's not what you looked like. On your knees.”

Instead, Jean continues to stroke himself, wanting Kim to react. 

“You wanted me to touch myself?” Jean huffs, “here. I’m touching myself. Happy?”

It feels like he blinks and Kim has crossed the room, standing before him and slaps him across the face with his glove. He barely has time to react when Kim puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him forward, face down into the bed with a startled sound. 

“On your knees,” Kim repeats, now standing over Jean like a parent ready to deliver another hit. It excites him more than he can think about at the moment. 

“I am on my knees,” he grunts into the duvet. 

“Still defiant, are you? I don’t enjoy delivering physical punishments unless previously discussed, so I will no longer lay a hand on you. Take that as a warning.” Returning to leaning against the desk, Kim’s eyes have turned hard and Jean feels that much harder than the roughness from a moment ago. Something inside of him decides that they've played enough cat and mouse and if he continues to tease himself like this he’ll lose it. 

Of course, sticking something inside of him after becoming this worked up was going to tip him over in an embarrassingly short amount of time, anyways.

Finally doing as told, Jean rolls onto his back, kicks his boxers off and grabs his toy, then gets up on his hands and knees. 

“No,” Kim interrupts, “turn around. How you were last night.”

Facing the headboard with himself on display for Kim makes Jean’s face burn, stifling a moan of sorts. He was surely not going to last long. 

At least he wouldn’t have to look at Kim while he did this. 

Turning around, Jean forgoes the lube, reaches a hand between his legs and drags the toy along his cock, up to his taint and back down, teasing strokes until he can’t stand it, pushing the tip inside of him. The arousal and foreplay (if it could be called that) have loosened him up significantly, wetness immediately sucking him in with a shuddered groan. 

“Oh fuck.”

“How dirty,” Kim says from somewhere in the room; Jean can only focus on the way his muscles pulse around the plastic object. “That wet already? I bet you’ve soaked your boxers.”

“Hah—”

“Did you cum last night, after I let your cat in? Or have you been edging yourself? Maybe you were going to wait until I moved back - can you wait that long without touching yourself like a naughty whore?”

While Kim is unsure of Jean’s comfort level with everything, considering the two of them have been improvising thus far, the younger man reacts wonderfully. Having only shoved the toy inside and relished in the way it felt, he begins to grip the base with his fingers and starts thrusting into himself. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Ah— no, no—”

“Full sentences.”

“No, I didn’t— I didn’t cum last night. Shit felt too weird to continue.”

“Hm.” Considering this, Kim cocks his head in thought then asks, “are you lying to me?”

Letting out a shameless moan, Jean’s knees spread wider, nodding into his pillow.

“Yes. Fuck. I thought about you coming in and watching.”

“Like I am now?”

Yes.” Groaning, he exchanges using the toy for stroking his dick, a layer of creamy ejaculate forming around the plastic where it enters his body. 

“And how is it?” 

“Really fucking good,” he laughs hoarsely, “thought that was pretty goddamn obvious.”

“It is, but I like hearing you say it.”

“Shit.” 

“Were you thinking about me when you came last night?” Jean nods, causing his short hair to fly away from the friction. “Were you thinking about me before I opened the door?”

With little hesitation, Jean nods again, then his breath hitches. 

“Are you going to cum now, thinking about me? Hearing my voice?” 

The man hardly has time to voice an answer before he lets out a short series of hiccuped gasps against the pillow, fully hiding his face and stifling his sounds. His hands drop away from him, letting his body roll through his orgasm by itself when the bed dips from an added weight, Kim settling on his knees behind Jean. Steadying one hand on Jean’s hip, Kim uses his other hand to grip the toy, pistoning it in and out of Jean while he tenses and shakes. Desperately, Jean gives his cock a few more tugs before he cums, splashing back on to Kim’s wrist.

“Fuck— fuck! Fuck!” When his legs are just about to give, Kim stops fucking him with the toy, carefully pulling it out and helping Jean lay on his side, a sweaty heap. 

In the time he takes to catch his breath, Kim goes to the bathroom, cleans off the toy and returns with a damp cloth to wash Jean up, then sits on the bed beside him. 

“What the fuck,” is what Jean says, looking to Kim. “What the fuck.”

“What?”

“You’re going to ruin my fucking dick. I don’t think I’ll be able to jack off again.” 

Patting Jean’s back, Kim smiles down at him then stands. 

“Maybe now you’ll sleep tonight.”

“If I don’t die in my sleep, that is.”

“Ah, well, you’ll still sleep, won’t you?” 

Rolling onto his back, Jean props himself up on his elbows, naked except for the shirt stuck to his skin with sweat and looks at Kim, who eyes his exposed body. 

“Goodnight, Jean.”

“Yeah. Goodnight. And Kim?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for… this. Whatever this is.”

“Of course. You’re welcome for whatever this is,” he gives a small smile then closes the door, intending to get ready for bed when he spots Jean’s cat, having reclaimed her spot on the bed in his absence. 

Turning around, Kim carefully cracks the door open again, ready to ask to share the bed.

Jean’s already got the blanket pulled back.