#but i was halfway thru jett's scene and checked the word count and was like

[charged-wanderlust]

a beautiful hurricane, pt. 2 | jett slater x mc x remy chevalier

OK THIS IS NOT TURNING OUT HOW I ORIGINALLY PLANNED BUT I LIKE IT TOO MUCH TO CHANGE IT SO BARE WITH ME.... these fics literally write themselves i have no say in it i just start writing and black out and boom its done. anyway here's the next part of the piece commissioned by @mcira it's very jett-centric but remy will have his turn in the last part ok. it'll go out with a bang. literally. ALSO SIDE NOTE ik the s1 heists were like. quick. in the canon. but i took some creative liberties and said its taking months bc its more realistic for them to fall in love this Deep in that time ok? ok good lesgo

“You can’t do that.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

Heat flares up beneath your skin, which wasn’t uncommon around these particular handsome scoundrels, but this time it was more akin to an angry boil than a pleasant simmer. How dare they? You may be new to the Poppy, but you’re competent on your own and definitely capable for the task at hand.

“You don’t get it, MC,” Remy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose - you try not to deflate at the lack of his usual pretty nicknames. When has hearing my own name from his lips make me distraught rather than elated? “You can’t let your guard down just because you’re getting closer to him. He’s a conman too, and a good one- besides, would you really leave Jett to handle the break-in alone?”

“Yes I would, actually!” You flash back, hands clenched into fists. “Because unlike you, I realise that Jett is fully capable of doing things on his own, and I don’t tell him what he can and can’t do! You said it yourself - I’ve exceeded your expectations repeatedly since arriving here. So why can’t you trust my judgement and let me do what I set out here to do in the first place?!”

Remy rolls his eyes so hard he probably got a glimpse of his brain, while Jett bangs his fists on the table. “It’s not even a matter about helping me get the painting or not, MC- it’s the fact that you’ll be alone with a notorious conman on a yacht, isolated from any witnesses, who need I mention - is definitely into you and likely will try something?!”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought you said you weren’t the jealous type!” You hold your ground, arms crossed with frustration. “We already know the Lumiere film is on that yacht. How do you suppose we get it, if I’m not even allowed on the damn boat?!”

“Through a plan,” Remy says decisively, giving you a look that has no room for argument. “We can get him to invite both of us on board, I’m sure. Plant a camera on him to figure out where it is and any security codes… there’s ways, MC. Ways that don’t involve throwing yourself head-first into danger. You know it’s a bad idea when even Jett Slater is saying it’s a bad idea! He literally only ever comes up with bad ideas!”

“Yeah, throwing myself into danger is my job!”

“Says who?! This is just a straight up double-standard; it’s okay if Jett does it, but not me? Cause what, he’s experienced? How am I meant to get experience if you don’t let me?”

“Cause I’d rather get hurt than see you hurt, MC!”

…

…

…

“...what?”

“Fuck!” Jett flings his hands up in defeat, then stalks off to his room and slams the door shut, reverberating throughout the penthouse. Remy seems at a loss for words, too, his guard up and expression unreadable.

“You haven’t seen how dangerous this line of work gets, ma cherie,” Remy sighs, plopping himself down on the couch and running a hand through his hair to calm himself down a little. “We don’t want you to find out. You didn’t sign up for that.”

“Didn’t I, though?” You settle yourself next to him, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder, hoping it’ll ground him just a little. “I knew you were criminals, I knew we were doing dirty work. If I hadn’t expected things to get dangerous, I’d have been even more naive than you thought I was. I’ve spent months preparing, Remy - I’ll get the location of the film and I won’t let him lay a hand on me.”

He shivers. “The thought of that… that bastard anywhere near you is enough to make me want to punch a wall,” he growls, “He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t even deserve to think he does-”

“Remy.” You squeeze his shoulder gently, snapping him back into reality. “I personally think it’s more satisfying to feed into his delusion of deserving me, then pry that out of his hands and leave him aching. Besides - this is for the heist, right? I think getting that film is more important than anything relating to Parker. I mean, the first ever kiss recorded on film-”

He cuts you off with a laugh that kisses your ears like a finely tuned guitar, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side abruptly.

He’s trying to hide his face…?

“You go from beautifully cruel to brilliantly passionate so quickly, cherie. That’s what I like about you.”

Oh. Oh. Okay. My heart better calm the heck down before he hears it-

Before you could even formulate a coherent thought, let alone a reply, he pulls away, getting up and making for the door. “You’re right. You’re not something - not someone I can control. You’re… something else.”

Shrugging on his coat, he’s halfway out the door before he adds, “Talk it out with Jett. He’ll come around now that he’s had a moment to cool down.”

It’s jarring - he was so angry just moments before, but once the heat faded, it became clear; he cares. He cares far, far more than he lets on - than he wants to, even - and Jett does too. Nodding to Remy, you go for Jett’s room, noiselessly slipping in under the cover of his loud punk music.

Jett’s language is physical touch, that much you know. So instead of calling out to him, you approach him carefully from behind while he’s fixated on an explosive painting full of hot, blazing colours, and lay a hand on his shoulder.

Much like Remy, he instantly softens, turning to look at you with wide eyes that if you squint, were flecked with remorse. You withhold a smile - had you just cracked the code to these men? Just touch them gently and they’re all good again.

“MC, I-”

“Jett.”

He stills, letting you talk. He’s done yelling at you, done fighting; so he listens. And just like before, he’s a surprisingly good listener.

“Look. I know you’re worried for me, and… honestly I’m touched. You’ve been encouraging me to break out of my shell this whole time, and I’m really starting to embrace it. This life, too. I know I can do this because I know myself now, and… all I ask is for your to trust me. Trust that I won’t let Parker even so much as breathe in my direction without me wanting him to, trust that I can secure the location of the film at least-”

“Are you kidding? I’ve always trusted you.”

His reply catches you off guard, his face genuine, body language open. You’re silent for a moment in your surprise, so he takes that as a sign to continue.

“We wouldn’t have picked you for this if we didn’t trust you, MC. You’ve proven yourself over and over again. Just because you can do this doesn’t mean we want you to.” He sighs, collecting himself. “Maybe Remy and I were being a bit of a wet blanket. But you see where we’re coming from, right? This is your first con, and this is practically throwing you into the deep end.”

“Being thrown into the deep end is the quickest way to learn,” you explain calmly, dipping a finger in his paints and dabbing his nose with it. He snorts, but a smile is creeping across his lips and it makes something dance in your chest.

“What if something goes wrong?”

“What do you usually do when something goes wrong?”

He grins, going back to his painting and making a few quick strokes of gold across the horizon line. “I blow shit up, usually.”

“Then give me some of your bombs.”

Jett’s eyes nearly pop out of his damn hand, twisting in his stool to gape at your incredulously. “Are you serious? On a yacht? You’d sink the ship- unless it was a controlled explosion, just enough to cave in a door… or a flashbang, to stun him… or a smoke bomb…”

You can almost see all the ideas popping up in his head, his knee bouncing up and down with slowly increasing excitement. It’s contagious - you find yourself grinning right back at him, mischievous.

“I’ve always wanted to blow something up.”

“It’s settled, then!” He sets down his paintbrush and stalks over to his workbench, grabbing some things and getting to work. “You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you, love? I can’t say I don’t love it, though.”

There it is again, you think, gnawing at your lower lip. All these heartfelt compliments said so casually. How the hell am I meant to know where I stand?!

It’s almost as if the universe answers - or maybe your subconscious knew all along.

Ask.

...Deep breaths, MC.

“You sure throw around the word love a lot, Jett,” you point out, trying your best to sound casual about it. His back is facing you, and you immediately notice his body freeze over at the sudden cold shower of your words.

After a moment, it passes, and he gets back to work. “Yeah. And?”

“And?” You scoff, not believing he’d be oblivious enough as to not get the hint. “I knew you were bad at communicating, but wow-”

He shrugs it off, still not turning around to look at you. “What do you want me to say, MC? You’re Remy’s wife.”

“Fake wife.”

“Might as well be his real one at this point,” he scoffs. “Do you see the way he looks at you? Like you put all the stars in the sky?”

“We’ve literally been practicing the way we look at each other for the con, Jett-”

“I was his husband for a con, once, and I’m telling you he never looked at me the same way he looks at you.”

His voice lowers, and you’re slowly starting to piece everything together. How even his stubborn ass would agree with everything Remy said, how he’d teased you and Remy for being a good couple even more than the rest of the Poppy combined, his joking comments about joining in-

“You’re in love with Remy, aren’t you?”

His silence answers you louder than any words could, and he knows it, too. He chokes out a distraught laugh, finally casting a look over his shoulder to meet your gaze. His is glossy, and you gasp, just as a tear rolls down his sun-kissed cheeks.

“Shit. How could you tell?”

Your instinct is to go over to hug him, and he doesn’t protest, instead going back to tinker with his smoke grenade.

“I mean it when I said I’m not the jealous type, really. It makes me so happy to see you two together. So happy - even if you aren’t really together, I haven’t seen Remy smile like that in a long time. You deserve each other - and I’m glad I can see the two people I care about most-”

“-both of us?”

His voice cracks mid sentence, and he twists around in your embrace to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You were a more recent development. But this doesn’t have to make things weird between us - I’ll just need some space.”

You shake your head slowly, cupping his face. “Why are you so convinced that we don’t like you back? You haven’t seen the way he looks at you when your back is turned.”

Just like that, his entire world got flipped on an axis, with you at the center. Struggling to rationalize this new perspective, new information, he starts to ramble. “B-Because you haven’t- I mean he hasn’t- I wasn’t meant to share this, but he’s been in love with you since you first met. Before you even knew you met. He disguised himself so he could talk to you at a coffee shop while you were painting and-”

“Jett,” you laugh, looping your arms around his neck. “Stop talking.”

He puts a finger to your lips before they meet his, the single digit the only thing keeping you apart.

“We should talk to Remy first,” he breathes out. “And- and promise me. If you’re wrong, and he doesn’t feel like that about me - don’t let me get in the way of you two. Please.”

You nod, kissing his cheek instead. This time, he doesn’t flinch, and he doesn’t pull you in for more.

“Let’s go talk to our favourite Frenchman, then.”

He smiles, wild, wide and breathtaking.

“Let’s.”