Archive of Our Own

If there is one thing Jasper is certain of in life, it’s this: To love someone is to suffer for them. 

Jasper loved his little sister growing up. He loved her, and he thought of how much he loved her every time their mother dunked his head into the water basin. He loved her with every convulsion of his lungs, every spasm of his limbs, every drop of blood that beaded under the grip of his mother’s nails in his nape. Every second he was held under the surface was another beat of Jasper’s heart: I love you. Every ounce of water he vomited up was another vow in Jasper’s soul: I love you. 

He drowned so she could breathe. He suffered so she didn’t have to. If they were hurting him, then they weren’t hurting her. He loved her.

When Jasper wrestled the gun out of their father’s hands and shot both of their parents dead—when his sister screamed at him, punched him, kicked him for what he had done—he loved her then, too. 

In the Order, it is different but the same. Jasper doesn’t love his colleagues or the civilians like he loved his sister, but he does care for them. No one should have to suffer as he did. He can take it. Again and again, broken ribs and bullet wounds save another would-be victim. Jasper gives his all. 

And Jasper is cared for in turn. The Order becomes his family, their mission becomes his home. 

He notices something while enlisted in the Order. The people who slam him into the mat during training sessions are the same people who pick him up and laugh with him after. The people who tie bandages painfully tight around his raw, gaping wounds are the same people that nurse him back to health. 

Jasper realizes that the suffering they cause him is part of how they value him, care for him. Jasper doesn’t relish in the pain itself, no, he still flinches away, but he knows he has no choice but to endure the pain because—

To love someone is to suffer for them; and to be loved is to be hurt. 

That’s how he knows he loved his friend Rafa. When Rafa dies on that mission to the Drowned Woman, Jasper feels like the guilt is devouring him inside-out. It hurts. He lies in bed at night, unable to sleep because of the awful twisting and clawing in his chest—it should have been him, it should have been him, no one should have to suffer as he did and yet he let Rafa drown. 

When he is told the details of the Hexatombe mission—human sacrifices, countless uncertainties, survival far from guaranteed—it isn’t really a question. Jasper volunteers. 

~*~

There is something wrong in his relationship with Remi and Maria.

Oh, Jasper loves them. There’s no doubt about that. He cherishes them in every quiet conversation and every reverent caress; in every swing of his axe and every sword in his neck. Every drop he bleeds in Hexatombe is bled for his friends, his family—for them.

He dies for them. And when he tumbles back into his original body, it is their arms that catch him.

That’s something that is different about his relationship with Remi and Maria: They reach for him. No one has ever reached for him before, not like this. Maria hooks a finger under Jasper’s chin and draws him out of his shell; Remi puts his forehead against Jasper’s and holds him there. They tell him that he’s good for them.

Good for them. God, Jasper wants to be good for them. More than that, he just wants them, so bad that it makes his head spin.

But there is something wrong in his relationship with Remi and Maria: It doesn’t hurt.

Jasper knows what they’re capable of. He’s seen them argue. It can get nasty pretty quick, given that Maria loves to pull a fight from Remi and Remi will not stop himself from retaliating. Jasper hasn’t seen Remi bash Maria’s head in like he did back in Hexatombe, but there is plenty of shouting in faces, and slamming backs into walls, and very angry kissing that leaves both of their lips red and swollen. 

Those two do not hold back with each other—even less so in bed. They love to play rough. There’s been a few times where Maria has raked their nails across Remi’s back so violently it made Jasper’s skin crawl. There’s been a few more times where Remi has smacked Maria so hard it made Jasper wince. Pain flows freely between them, and Jasper can see the love in their eyes and the pleasure on their lips.

To be loved is to be hurt. And yet, none of that falls on Jasper.

They’re…gentle with him. They run their fingers through his hair, whisper molasses-dark sweetness in his ear, press soothing kisses over the bites they dot on his neck. He doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t understand how. He knows love hurts, both giving and receiving, and nowhere is that more true than with Remi and Maria. 

Love hurts. It has to hurt. If it doesn’t hurt now, it will hurt later. It’s only a matter of time. 

It’s agony—days, weeks spent bracing for the blow to finally land. Sometimes, Maria’s smile turns sharp and Jasper tenses, this is it. Other times, Remi clenches his fists and Jasper braces, this is it.

But it never is. Maria’s smile smooths out, Remi releases his fists, and Jasper is left feeling so suddenly bereft that it almost makes him nauseous.

Jasper feels like he’s going crazy. When is it going to happen? He loves them, can’t stand the thought of being without their arms around him, and yet his nerves start to buzz like live wires whenever he is with them.

Agitated one day, Jasper finds himself snapping at Remi over a bad call Remi made during a mission. Remi is allowed to make mistakes, of course, so it’s something that Jasper would normally let go of—normally. But not today, when every muscle in his body is humming for a blow. Remi snaps at him in turn, jaw tight and fists clenched, and something in Jasper hisses at him to push back.

So he does. He pushes back, pushes hard, pushes further hit me, you’re going to hit me, I know you will and I know it will hurt but I can take it so please just hit me already—

“FUCK, JASPER!” Remi explodes, throwing up his hands. Jasper jumps at the movement (this is it this is it this is it), but instead of shoving Jasper like he might with Maria, Remi storms out of the room.

Guilt ripples through Jasper in the wake of it, riding on a wave of adrenaline that suddenly has nowhere to go. He’s almost dizzy as he chases Remi down the hall, trying desperately to apologize. Remi just ignores him. He keeps walking until he has left the building, their apartment, altogether.   

Remi is gone for a while. He comes back eventually, but then Jasper is out running errands, and then Remi leaves for the gym and he doesn’t come back until it’s so late that it isn’t reasonable to try talking about anything, so they…never do.

And Jasper’s nerves are still buzzing. When is it going to happen?

And then, it does.

~*~

It goes like this.

It’s towards the end of a long night, one where the three of them have fallen in bed together. Through it all, Jasper couldn’t seem to sweat off that incessant hum-buzz under his skin, every nip on his neck an almost-bite, every hand in his hair an almost-fist. Now Remi is embracing Jasper from behind as Jasper is locked in a fervent kiss with Maria, skin on feverish skin, and the nerves in him are still fucking waiting for something. 

Jasper can’t take it anymore. To love someone is to suffer for them; and to be loved is to be hurt. He kisses a column down Maria’s neck, towards their shoulder, and he finds it in himself to be mean.

He bites them. He bites them hard.

Maria gives a yelp of surprise, but any guilt Jasper feels is immediately washed away when that yelp pitches down into a low moan: “Fuck, good boy…” Delight drips from their tone, thick honey that glazes over Jasper’s mind and leaves him swimming in a golden haze: Good for them, he’s good for them, he wants to be good for them…

The buzz of his nerves never leaves him, though. The moment passes, and something in him hisses do it again. It’s not enough. Do it again.

So he does. He bites them again, bites them harder, pushes into them hurt me, you’re going to hurt me, I know you will and I know it will be bad but I can take it so please just—

“Hurt me,” he whimpers against their lips, “hurt me, do it already, please, I can’t, just—”

Maria rakes their nails over Jasper’s back with a vengeance, and it shoots through him like lightning.

It hurts. His throat catches on the reedy moan that is torn out of him, pleasure and agony blooming in his gut like twisting ivy—but before he can process it, he swallows his fear and makes himself dive in for another scathing kiss more, hurt me more, I know you can and I know you will so just do it I can take it—

Something in the air has shifted. When Maria smiles at him, it isn’t with playful mischief—it cuts like a knife. They all but slam his back down onto the mattress, and Jasper’s heart hasn’t beat this hard in a long, long time. Adrenaline fills his ears, a rush of blood and breath washing over his senses. He is barely able to process Remi pulling him into a kiss over the sting of Remi’s fist pulling at his hair and Maria’s teeth leaving mean bites on every part of him.

Remi pulls away, some endless seconds later, and Jasper’s chest rattles with a gasp. His head is spinning. His insides are squirming. He can’t get a full breath in. What’s happening? His hands move on autopilot, trembling as they map Maria’s body on top of him, and he can’t really tell what he’s doing anymore. There are hands and fingers everywhere. There are bites and welts everywhere. It hurts. His ears are ringing. Hips roll down on him, sending a nauseating wave of warmth through his core, queasy like heatstroke. His eyes burn with tears. What’s happening? Hands squeeze him tight enough to bruise. He gasps. It hurts, and— 

Jasper doesn’t want the pain, but he wants the love, their love, both of them, he loves them, hurt me, I love you, hurt me, I love you, Jasper wants to be good for them, so he will take it, he can take it, he can do it, he can endure it, he can get past this, he—he—

“Jasper,” comes a muffled voice. 

A hand falls in the center of his chest with fingers splayed over his—

A hand braces against his shoulder to—

A hand cups the side of Jasper’s face and turns him to look towards—

Jasper’s throat bobs around the next breath. His chest convulses, and the flow of air to his lungs is choked. 

Jasper is drowning.

Jasper is drowning. 

He doesn’t think—he pushes, kicks, finally shoves himself away. 

Jasper slams the back of his head on something so hard the sound of it echoes in his skull. His lungs claw for air because he knows that he has precious few seconds before her fist grabs him by the nape again, shoves his head in the basin again, fills his lungs with water again. He chokes and coughs, struggling to breathe, breathe, breathe while you can because if she kills you then your sister will have no one and you love her too much to leave her to your fate—

“Jasper.” 

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he jolts so hard that he slams the back of his head again. Everything spins. He can’t see straight. Dark blotches bloom in his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut with a sob. He’s scared. He’s so scared. The seconds tick down and he braces himself for the fist, the basin, the water, the pain, the pain, because it has to hurt. If it doesn’t hurt now, it will hurt later. 

It’s only a matter of time. 

(Broken ribs and bullet wounds.)

It’s only a matter of time. 

(Slammed into the training mat.)

It’s only a matter of time. 

(A bullet piercing his skull.)

It’s only a matter of time…

(…)

…Jasper breathes, and nothing happens.

“Jasper,” comes a voice. 

It takes several seconds for Jasper to register it as Remi’s.

When Jasper blinks his eyes open again, he is sitting on the bed, back pressed flat against the headboard and knees curled up towards his chest. He’s drenched in cold sweat. Remi sits beside him, hand half-reaching but curled away like a second-thought. Maria sits across from him, their expression drawn into a rare, unsmiling concern.

When Jasper meets Maria’s eyes, she shifts forward, urgent: “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he tries to say, but the syllables get caught in his throat. He coughs, lungs desperately seeking air, and just shakes his head. Too much.

“You shouted,” Maria continues. “Did I hurt you?”

Hurt him? Jasper chokes again. He squeezes his eyes shut as his throat spasms around a sob.

“Maria,” Remi snaps, voice low, “you need to just—give him a second.”

Maria huffs, “Obviously. I just thought I’d try to ask.”

“Then why don’t you leave him alone?”

“My love, you’re not the one who was on him when he freaked out. Alright?”

Fuck, they’re arguing. They’re arguing over him. He did this, he ruined it. The realization lands in his gut like a stone. Oh God, what has he done? “Sorry,” he gasps. “I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Jasper, it’s alright,” Remi tells him. “You can take your time.”

“N-No, I mean…” He doesn’t know what he means. For starting it? For not being able to handle it? For making them angry at each other? All he knows is that the pinching twist of guilt is tightening in his core. He fists his hands in his hair. “Fuck.”

A beat passes, measured by Jasper’s rattling breath, and he feels the mattress shift as Maria straightens again. “Okay, you… Yeah.” They shuffle away on the mattress. “I’m going to get some water. Remi, would you like a glass?”

“Please.” 

“Jasper?”

He shakes his head.

“Alright.” 

Maria slides off the bed and fishes his own hoodie from the disaster of clothes on the floor. He pulls it on over his head as he slips out of the room.

Several more seconds go by where all Jasper does is let his lungs greedily take in oxygen. When the air-starved tightness in his chest finally begins to loosen, Jasper closes his eyes and leans back to rest his head against the backboard. 

He flinches when he bumps a tender spot on his head, hissing. Ow.

“Careful,” says Remi.

Jasper swallows around the sandpaper-dryness of his throat. “I hit my head,” he rasps dizzily.

There’s a click of Remi’s tongue. “That you did. Twice.”

Jasper lifts a trembling hand to the back of his head and brushes his fingers over the painful spot. He pulls away, rubs his fingers together. “...No blood.”

“I think we would know by now if there was. Head wounds bleed like hell.”

Half a dozen memories float to the surface as proof. Jasper grimaces. “Yeah.”

“Hey.”

Jasper answers the beckoning in Remi’s tone, eyes opening to peer at Remi over his knees and folded arms. Remi is in a similarly hunched posture, considering Jasper deeply. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. 

Jasper already knows. He beats him to it: “It’s not your fault. It’s not Maria’s either.”

Whatever Remi was about to say dies in a hiss behind his teeth. His gaze flies to some corner of the room, a scowl redirected, and he tosses his hand through his lopsided hair. “I should have said something sooner. I knew something was off, but—”

“But nothing.” It’s not Remi’s cross to bear. Jasper needs him to understand that. Jasper drags Remi’s hand out of his hair, captures it in his own, and knocks their foreheads together. “Nothing, Remi. Let it go.”

It’s a Herculean task to get Remi to not feel responsible for something, but Jasper has learned how to be persuasive. He presses a chaste kiss to Remi’s cheek, and by the slow sag in Remi’s shoulders, Jasper knows he’s on his way. 

And, well, Jasper would be lying if the gesture wasn’t easing the coils of guilt in his own chest. (Good for you. I want to be good for you.) Breathing just got a little bit easier. And his head doesn’t feel like it’s locked in a tailspin anymore. His heart still beats like it’s trying to jump out of his ribs, but that’s something he’s used to. 

Maria hums a greeting as she comes back into the room, two glasses in hand. Remi releases Jasper to accept the water from her, and he swiftly tucks the glass between his knees so he can use his hand to pull Maria down for a kiss before she can slip away again. 

Jasper watches with a swell in his chest. They’re both so beautiful in moments like this, quiet and sweet. Remi cradles a reverent hand over Maria’s reddened cheek, making them smile against his lips, and Jasper remembers all it is that he suffers for. 

“Sit here,” Remi murmurs against them. “Come on.” 

They all shuffle over to make space for Maria on the bed again, this time curled against Remi’s side. Jasper tugs up the blankets to ward off the chill starting to seep into the room, now that the heat of the moment is long gone.

Because of him. Jasper winces at the thought, chest constricting. The two of them drink their water, and the moment Maria has finished putting his glass down, Jasper speaks up; he doesn’t want to leave Maria wondering anymore than he already may be. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Maria,” Jasper says. 

Their expression falls into a doubtful frown, almost a pout. “You shouted like I hurt you, my love,” they say. They reconsider. “Hurt you in a bad way, I mean. Didn’t I?”

Jasper scrubs his face up and down, wicking away drying sweat as he tries to think. It wasn’t the worst pain of his life, not by a long shot, and yet he was—terrified. He had been breathing so hard that he choked on it. It’s confusing. “I don’t know. Maybe.” There is shame that comes with the admission, but he owes them this much. “It was supposed to hurt, though, so—that’s on me.”

He can usually handle pain. He should have been able to…

“You seemed like you were into it,” Remi points out. “Until you weren’t.”

“You’ve never asked me to hurt you before,” Maria adds consideringly.

Jasper shrugs. “I just thought that you would have by now,” he mumbles. 

“What, hurt you?” Maria makes a funny face at him, like he’s being ridiculous. “Jasperzinho, my sweet—you’ve never asked.”

Now it’s Jasper’s turn to make a face. “Why would I have to ask you to hurt me?”

Maria sputters. “Because I didn’t think you would like it! I don’t know! I can’t read your mind!”

Remi tilts his head. “Do you want us to hurt you?”

Okay, Jasper is officially lost. Ask to be hurt? Why would he— Well, alright, he did ask, but that was just to get the inevitable over with. Whether or not he likes being hurt is just—not a real question. He loves them, so he will endure the pain that will come with it. 

So, does he want them to hurt him? “…Yes?” he tries. Pauses. “No. Well, I mean—” Jasper ruffles his hands through his own hair, growling, why is this so confusing. “I don’t know what you’re asking me. It should just hurt.”

“What should hurt?”

Jasper makes an exasperated, collective gesture between the three of them. “This.”

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion.”

“But it’s not.”

“Are we even talking about the same thing here?” Maria butts in. “What do you mean by ‘this’? Like, sex? Not-sex? Hello?”

“Any of it, all of it,” Jasper insists. “Us.” He feels like tearing his hair out. “Why is this so confusing to you guys? You hurt each other all the time.” 

“Well, that’s because I know what he likes,” Remi replies. 

Maria gives a melodic hum, tilting his head either way. “Mm, there’s been some trial and error…”

Remi throws a chastising finger in Maria’s face. “Nothing you weren’t asking for at the time. And I don’t disappoint.”

Maria answers with one of her dark, giggling grins.

Jasper growls again, unbelievably frustrated. “I don’t get it.”

Maria looks to him. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” Jasper snaps. His hands slam down into his lap. He doesn’t understand— “Why haven’t you hurt me?”

“Because you’ve never asked!”

Remi cuts in: “Oh my fucking God this is just going in circles—”

Remi twists where he’s sitting to reach over and turn Jasper’s face directly towards him, making Jasper look him dead in the eyes. “Do you want us to hurt you? In sex, or whatever. Because if you do, we can make that happen. And if you don’t, we won’t.” Remi casts his eyes away, scowling again. “Hell, we should’ve pressed that one to start…”

Jasper opens and closes his mouth several times. Something inside of him is trembling, like it’s about to break. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He pulls away from Remi’s hand. “Why are you asking me?” he says, and he’s too desperate to care that it sounds like a plea. “I don’t have a choice—I love you both. It’s going to hurt. Everything does, it’s fine, I just— I can’t stand having to wait around for either of you to finally just hit me or cut me or—”

“Jesus Christ, Jasper!” Remi cuts him off, somewhere between furious and—horrified? “You think we— You don’t deserve that.” 

Jasper shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter if I ‘deserve’ it—”

“I think it very much fucking does—”

“Then how is this supposed to work?” Jasper demands. He’s heaving for breath, eyes darting between Remi and Maria. “Huh? How am I—” His voice fails. He swallows. “How am I supposed to love you if I don’t bleed for you?”

Silence rings in the wake of it. Both Remi and Maria look stunned. Jasper’s entire being is trembling and, to his embarrassment, tears spring up behind his eyes. What does he do? What does he do? Jasper turns away, panting, some long-buried instinct to flee kicking up in his chest—

Maria hooks a finger under Jasper’s chin and draws him back like gravity. 

“Oh, Jasperzinho,” she sighs, eyes glistening in the darkness of the room. “While I have loved seeing blood on you…I much prefer it when it’s not your own. I mean it. You don’t need to bleed for us. You don’t need to bleed at all.”

Maria’s hand glides up to cradle his cheek, and Jasper rattles apart. 

The sobs shudder out of him with violence, catching on the roof of his mouth and knocking against his clenched teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut and tastes salt as his tears run over his lips. All this time, waiting for a blow, just to be cradled— He’s a mess, unspooling like a child. 

…And he doesn’t have the energy to pull himself together again. Greedily, Jasper places his own hand over Maria’s so they won’t leave him there. Their thumb swipes a tear away. 

“I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Jasper whispers hoarsely. “For one of you to hurt me. I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to think straight for weeks…”

Maria murmurs a swear, and Remi heaves a sigh that is laced with disappointment—the kind that Jasper knows is aimed at no one but himself. Jasper feels Remi’s weight lean in close, followed by the tell-tale knock of his forehead against Jasper’s temple.

It’s supposed to hurt; but, with them, it never does. Jasper can’t stop himself from nosing into Maria’s soft hand, or pressing forward into Remi. Leaning into their touch feels like sin. It isn’t right, and he doesn’t understand it, but God he wants it, wants it, wants it. 

Remi glides his hand over Jasper’s bare shoulder with a reverence that leaves goosebumps in its wake. “We’re rotten, Jasper,” he explains. “That’s why Maria and I do what we do. But we… I will never let that touch you. Never you.” 

Remi presses his lips to Jasper’s temple as he whispers it: “You’re too good for us.”

~*~

If there is one thing Jasper is certain of in life, it’s this: To love someone is to suffer for them; and to be loved is to be hurt.

But recently, to love someone is also to stay up late working out at the gym with them, and to carry all the grocery bags so they can get the door, and to spend extra time making sure their sword is sharp, and to join them at the mall to help them find clothes that make them feel as beautiful as he thinks they are.

And, to be loved? Jasper is still sorting that one out, to be honest, but he thinks it might be something like this: 

He’s stretched over Maria on the bed, his head pillowed on their stomach and arms wrapped around their back. The room is doused in afternoon warmth, thick and lazy, and both of them have stripped down to t-shirts and boxers. 

Jasper floats on the blurry line of awake and asleep like a log floats in a stream. Maria’s fingers run gentle currents through his hair, easing him along. The only thing keeping him from floating away completely is the sound of the low-volume reels that they’re flicking through on their phone. 

Jasper doesn’t mind. He likes being just awake enough to still feel them warm, shifting, breathing. Loves it, really. Loves Maria. Loves how she always seems to turn him to putty in her hands. It’s better than any sleep he could get. Better than slipping too deep and risking a repeat of the early morning’s night terrors… 

In some unknown point of time, Jasper becomes distantly aware of the sound of the apartment door unlocking. Hinges, footsteps, knocking around. He drifts past it, Maria’s ministrations still unhurried. 

He only begins to surface when a voice calls out: “Jasper!” Footsteps approach and slam to a halt. “Wh— JASPER!”

Jasper startles into awareness with a snort and a jump. He lifts his face from Maria and scrubs his eyes. “Fuck, man, what?”

“We have a mission briefing in thirty minutes!” Remi cries. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Jasper feels a chill shoot through him as his brain catches up. “Wait.”  He leans off of Maria and scrabbles for his phone somewhere in the bedsheets. 

“It’s three-thirty!” Remi shouts at him just as Jasper finds his phone. Jasper squints through bleary eyes, and sure enough, the lock screen reads the very same time. “You said you’d be ready to go when I got back!”

“But…” Jasper sucks in a yawn, catching it behind his fist, and looks up at Maria. “You said you’d wake me.”

Maria grins. “Oops.”

“Shit,” Jasper hisses. He grabs his glasses, kicks his feet out of the sheets, and tumbles out of bed. He stumbles around when the blood rushes to his head— “Fuck, fuck—” and all but crashes into the dresser, immediately starting to search for a pair of the cargo pants he usually wears on missions.

…Of which he has no clean pairs. Right. He darts towards the hamper and fishes out a pair that doesn’t reek. Jasper turns around—

—just in time to catch the bodysuit thrown at him. With his face. 

“Why the hell would you trust Maria with the time?” Remi blusters on, turning to dig around in the sock drawer. “You know they don’t care!”

“Hey, I care!” Maria objects. “And it’s a fifteen minute drive, Remi, calm yourself.”

“If we don’t hit any traffic! At all! In the middle of the afternoon in fucking São Paulo!”

Jasper shucks off his t-shirt and starts to tug on the bodysuit. “Maria, can you run a load of laundry while we’re out?” he asks. 

His request, though, seems to get lost in the shouting match Maria has gotten himself into with Remi. Okay, so Jasper will text Maria to remind him later. 

With Remi’s help, Jasper gets himself dressed in record time. He slaps a beanie on his head to hide the lovely mess Maria has made of his hair. His stomach growls while he’s heading to the front of the apartment for his boots and hell, he forgot to eat lunch again. 

Jasper sighs as he tugs up his laces, running it through his head. No time for an actual meal—what do they have in the pantry? Remi just got back from the store, they should have something, but it sounds like he and Maria have taken the argument to the kitchen, so he’ll give that a minute. Push comes to shove, his gear is in his locker at base, and he hasn’t cleaned out his mission bag in a while so—maybe he left some snacks in there? He should have change for the vending machine, at least. God, he can’t believe he overslept…

“I was just giving him extra time, alright?!” comes Maria from the kitchen, hot on Remi’s heels as he strides out. “He’s looked dead all day!”

“Maria, the briefing time isn’t flexible,” Remi seethes. Maria sticks their tongue out at him and slinks off to another room. They narrowly dodge the swat Remi swings at their head as they go. 

Jasper isn’t sure if he likes being so rushed that he practically had to trip into his clothes, but he has to admit—the extended nap with Maria was nice. Even if it was under duress. Jasper finishes tying off his boots and stands. “I’m almost ready to go, I promise, I just need to grab something from the pantry—”

Remi shoves a few protein bars at Jasper’s chest. “I’ve got an apple in my bag, too. You can eat in the car.”

Jasper could kiss him. Jasper should kiss him, actually, but then Remi is reaching for the car keys. Jasper puts up a hand to stop him. “Hey, no, I’m driving.”

Remi scoffs. “You drive like you’re trying to be late.”

“You drive like you’re trying to kill us!”

“We’ll be fine.”

“You don’t even have a license!”

“I don’t need one.”

Jasper snatches up the carabiner of car keys before Remi can and drops them in his pocket. “Let’s not get pulled over, okay?”

Remi looks about ready to retaliate, but then Maria glides into the room again. She prods her finger into the back of Remi’s shoulder. He whips around on her, venom clearly on his tongue, only to freeze when Maria holds up a half-empty sheet of pills. 

“...How did you find those?” he asks in utter astonishment.

“Turned the bedroom upside-down,” Maria replies. “They fell back between the bedframe and the wall.” They rattle the sheet and give him a steely smile. “Now, listen here, my love, you better take these before the mission like Marcela told you to, alright? If you come home bitching about your shoulder again, I’ll cut you.”

Remi takes the sheet of pills with his true hand, then he hooks his false one around Maria’s back to pull them into a kiss.

…A long, heated kiss. With tongue. Jasper throws up his hands. “I thought we were late!” 

Several more seconds later, Remi pulls away from Maria, exhaling with obvious hunger. He flicks them hard on the forehead. “Don’t forget to put away the groceries. And run the laundry.”

Maria smacks a spiteful kiss on his lips. “Fine.” 

Maria comes around to Jasper then, and they pull him down for a kiss of their own, one that is infinitely sweeter than what they just bored into Remi’s mouth with. They pull away with a grin. “Kill something big, mean, and ugly, okay? Oh, and if you find anything interesting—”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Jasper promises. 

It’s worth it to see the smile on their lips. Maria giggles, delighted, and they hold Jasper by the cheeks so they can pepper half a dozen kisses all over his face. “Good boy.”

Jasper feels his face go red. “Don’t start.”

There isn’t time to start, really. Seconds later, Jasper and Remi are rushing out the door with Maria shouting good luck after them. Jasper jogs ahead to punch the call button on the elevator, but Remi zips past him and grabs him by the hand, dragging him along. “Elevator’s too slow, we’re taking the stairs.”

“Remi—”

“Come on!”

Jasper groans but doesn’t fight him. He chases Remi through the door and starts trotting down the stairs, the drumming of their shoes echoing all around them. Remi grabs the railing with his true hand and swings himself around at the bottom of every flight. It’s really no wonder why his shoulder hurts all the damn time.

Jasper skips a few steps towards the bottom of a flight to catch up. Remi is tearing up the stairs, and Jasper can tell that, despite Maria’s kiss, he’s still pissed. “I know you don’t like being late,” Jasper tries, “but it’s not like we’d be the only ones. Hell, Dante was late to our last one, and he was the one leading it.”

Remi huffs, the roll of his eyes obvious. “I don’t have to operate by his standards. Besides, we all know the reason he was late was because he was up in the bar making out with that little brunette of his.”

Jasper sputters. “You mean Cervero? Dude, he’s a Veríssimo, show some respect.”

“I will when he stops being stupid around Dante.”

“We don’t even know if they’re like that!”

“I really don’t care.” Remi hits the bottom of the last flight and slams through the doors to the car garage.

Jasper slows down to fish the keys out of his pocket as Remi storms ahead to the car, his shoulders drawing a taut line across his frame. Remi rests his hands on top of his head, taking a measured breath, and that’s how Jasper knows it’s bad. 

Jasper frowns as the guilt tightens in him. He approaches carefully, keys in hand. “Look, I’m sorry we’re not going to be early like you wanted. I probably should’ve known better than to trust Maria with waking me up on time. An alarm would have worked too.” 

Remi takes another breath. “It’s…fine,” he manages through an obviously tight jaw.

Jasper passes a hand over Remi’s shoulder, some attempt to alleviate the tension of the burdens piled there. “You know I’m not a fan of being late, either. This one’s on me, alright?”

Remi lets out a sigh, almost a swear, and he drags Jasper over to knock their foreheads together once more. “Maria had their reasons,” he says, calmer. “You needed the sleep.” 

Jasper finds himself with a wincing smile. “Kind of did. And honestly, they wouldn’t have been able to convince me to rest longer otherwise.”

“Mm-mm.” Remi leans in and kisses the corner of Jasper’s mouth, hands settling on Jasper’s shoulders. “And God knows when we’ll sleep again…”

Remi leans into him with nefarious intent, hands wandering down the muscles of his arms, and Jasper’s wincing smile becomes true. He lifts his hand to stop Remi’s wandering. “You’re not getting the keys.”

Remi immediately makes a lunge for them, of course, so Jasper throws his hand up and back, out of his reach, and blocks Remi’s body with his other arm. 

“Fuck!” Remi hisses. “Just let me drive!”

Jasper laughs, closing his fist around the keys. 

“I don’t want to die today,” Jasper says. 

He shakes the fob into his grasp and unlocks the car with a chirp. Then, he detaches himself from Remi to climb into the driver’s seat. 

It’s strange how two things can be true. Maria says that Jasper doesn’t need to bleed for them; and yet, no one makes his cheeks red quite like they do. Remi says that they’re rotten; and yet, no one makes his heart bloom quite like they do. If Jasper is too good for them, then fuck it, Jasper doesn’t want good. He wants arguments in the kitchen, and piles of clothes on the floor, and hands that feel like the most gentle sin.

He still flinches, sometimes, when Remi and Maria’s fights get physical; that’s not going away anytime soon. And if the time ever comes, Jasper knows he has plenty of blood still left to bleed for them, regardless of what they say. The pain always comes eventually.

But for now, Jasper jams the keys into the ignition. He drives out onto the city street with a head of sleep-tousled hair and a protein bar wedged between his fingers. Something in him already knows—this, right here, is also what it means to be loved.