Fred liked Jean.

He genuinely liked the little quiet human with sporadic emotions and an even more sporadic sleeping pattern. With a fanboy obsession with the things of the dark and some kind of vendetta against eating, with an obvious problem with being out in public or places with large crowds and fear of confrontation.

And with the most adorable angry face in the world that he looked like a pissed off rabbit, minus the buck teeth. It made Fred wanna just coo and ruffle his somewhat greasy mass of dark hair.

Fred liked the guy, so much so that he enjoyed being around Jean, but not enough to deal with him coming to his room at past three in the morning on a Friday to go exploring in a rumored to be haunted mansion at the end of town in an abandoned street.

“No.”

“Ah come on! It'll be fun, I swear! Please?” Jean tried again in a whisper-yell, stretching out his words.

Fred continued to blink his tired eyes slowly and repeated himself. “No.”

“But why not? You can see them but I can't! Please, please, please, please, pah-lease!” he begged, hands pressed together in front of him and his signature bag by his side.

“It's past three in the morning, we've got classes tomorrow, I'm studying psychology mind you. A pretty fucking hard thing by the way even if we're not doing much, and I'm sure you haven't even slept a solid eight hours,” Fred said, groaning as he rested the side of his head on his door post, arms folded across his bare chest.

“I did.”

Fred kept quiet and stared at him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief, watching him as he stared back. The ever so determined rabbit crumbled.

“For like an hour. Maybe two? I dunno. Don't worry about it.”

“Go to bed, Jean, before you pass out somewhere you wouldn't want to. Like a busy highway. See you in the morning. We could go on Saturday or something,” Fred said, standing up straight and ready to close the door.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Jean said rapidly, stopping Fred who was seconds away from slamming the door in the human’s face.

“We can…” Jean said, stopping to scratch the back of his head and look around him, turning around in a circle on the spot, “...make a deal?”

Fred rose an eyebrow, fully awake at the prospect of a good gamble. Especially one that he could maybe twist to his favor.

“What you have in mind?”

“You follow me to the haunted mansion to look for ghosts,” Fred nodded, understanding that part, “and…you name your price?”

Fred grinned, leaning down so that he could be eye to eye with Jean, thinking the guy should've thought through that last part carefully.

“I choose my own half of this deal?” he asked, just to be sure.

Jean's eyes widened, hesitant and worried and he was right to be. Fred wasn't going to go easy on him.

“...Yes,” he said after taking a deep breath and getting excited again, eyes probably gleaming at the fact that Fred was agreeing to go.

Now who can deny someone with a face like that? Especially after making such a deal?

“Fine.” Fred stood up straight, still smirking. “Lemme get dressed. Unless you don't mind me going au naturale?”

Jean, again, ignored his innuendo— much to Fred’s frustration—and asked, “So what do you want for your half of the deal?”

“Why would I tell you?” Fred asked, turning away and heading inside, Jean following and shutting the door.

“...So I'd know what you want out of this? That was the point of why I asked?”

You sassy motherfucker.

As he pulled a black shirt over his torso and picked up some jeans from his desk, Fred laughed softly.

“It's no fun if it's not a surprise, now is it, mate?” Fred asked, grabbing a jacket he really didn't need off his desk chair.

“I don't like surprises. They're too surprising.”

No fucking duh, sweetcheeks.

“Now you're just lying through your pearly whites. Everything you're finding out about this week and getting so excited over was a surprise. Hell, I was a surprise and you love me.”

Fred took Jean's silence as agreement. There was no other way he was going to take it. There was no other meaning it could've had.

He loves me. I can tell. He's just trying to look tough, the small bean.

#

“Are we even supposed to be here?” Fred asked quietly, hands in his pockets.

He wasn't actually cold. He just liked his green jacket. It was warm and cozy and he needed something to hide his shaking hands because the closer they got, the more worried Fred got about being caught.

“It's fine,” Jean said, not answering his question, then kneeling down and bringing out some leather wallet from his bag.

Fred watched with shock as Jean picked the lock of the padlock keeping the old, iron gates from opening.

What the fuck? Why does he have a picklock kit? Why would he need one? What life do you secretly live, Jean? Boy, you do this often?

“C’mon!” Jean said after standing up and looking to left then right of the abandoned street of Reyes Grove.

Fred looked at Jean as he quietly snuck inside the front of the large mansion calmly, his heart steady like he had done this before.

I keep on having question upon question about this guy the more I hang out with him. Freaking spy shit going on here really.

Fred turned around, wishing he put on a jacket with a hood as he eyed the rows of empty houses.

“Fred!” He turned around at the sound of his mumbled name to see Jean standing on the mansion’s path, beckoning him over.

“Oh boy,” he said quietly, straightening his jacket and entering passing through the gates.

“Hurry up!”

“I'm coming. I'm coming…That's what they said.” He couldn't hold it in, even if he said it to just himself.