Chapter Text
“Are you sure she’s the one?”
Rachel asks it lightly, almost offhand, as she smooths a nonexistent crease from Jude’s sleeve. Her fingers linger there a second too long, pressing into the fabric like she might find a different answer underneath it. Not that she needs an answer, really. She already knows it.
The last fifteen years have been the kindest that she’s ever been given. Which is a strange thought, when she lets it surface. My death was the start of my life. It's not exactly a saying that people stitch onto pillows or print on holiday cards, but it fits. Rachel Harkin had been something hollow before, something unfinished. Something hard to love. But whatever she is now was born out of that first death so really, it only makes sense that she’s living better now.
You're like a phoenix, Jules says sometimes, when it's just the two of them in the dark together. Starting and stopping, starting and stopping. Dying just to breathe life again.
“Yes, Rach. I’m sure.”
Jude smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that could disarm even the angriest of ghosts. He’s grown into himself in ways that still catch her off guard -although his adorable chipmunk cheeks still remain, regardless of how hard he tries to lose them- Gone is the boy who ran at the sight of his own shadow and here is the Man that stands straight. Stands steady in his space, meeting the world head-on. A husband-to-be, and eager for the role. There's not an ounce of hesitation or fear inside of him about the journey that comes next.
In college, Jude followed his father's footsteps, chasing after a career in medicine because it made sense to do it. But halfway through, he veered sharply into psychology, tacking on another year of schooling and a hefty bill for Jules. That's where he met Sara, the love of his life. A child psychology major with a penchant for snorting inelegantly whenever she laughs too hard.
It's endearing.
She's beautiful and sweet.
But she doesn't know a thing about family curses outside the cycles of generational trauma.
“She’s my other half,” Jude says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “I couldn’t live without her. And if, for some reason, we aren’t a match…” He shrugs, soft but certain. “I’d sooner welcome death, if it meant I had to live without her.”
It’s romantic.
It’s terrifying.
Rachel’s smile doesn’t falter, even as something tightens quietly beneath it. He's so soft, so earnest. Jude reminds her of Nicky sometimes... the better parts of him, at least. “Well,” she says, finally stepping back, brushing her hands together like the moment is finished, “Don’t let your father hear that, kiddo. He’s stressed enough as it is.”
~*~
“No wonder Portia was practically pulling her own hair out.” Jules snaps, pacing the length of the room with his phone clutched tight in one hand. “This is ridiculous. Why the fuck do I have twenty-seven voicemail from the flower arrangement company?”
“Try responding to them, darling. Or block them.” Nellie calls from the bathroom, her voice softened by the hiss of running water. Steam curls out into the hallway, carrying the faint scent of something floral and expensive. “They'll stop calling. I'm fairly certain that's how phones works.”
"Thank you so much for the advice," Jules snaps, briefly ducking his head into the bathroom. Nell paints a pretty picture naked in the bathtub, surrounded by candles and expensive shampoos. "Why don't you focus on lighting another candle?"
Nell flips him off with a beautifully manicured nail.
Jules slams the bathroom door shut.
Rachel doesn’t bother looking up right from where she's sprawled across the bed in her pajamas, one leg hanging off of the side, a crinkling bag of trail mix balanced against her stomach as she flips through the television channels. She thought that she'd be nervous acting as Jude's witness, but right now, all she feels is...calm.
“I thought Jude and Sara already agreed on peonies?” Rachel offers, half a beat too late to be useful.
Jules stops pacing just long enough to stare at her. “That’s for the bouquet, Rachel. These calls are for the table arrangements and hall decor. Keep up, Jesus Christ.”
Rachel finally glances over, unfazed, popping another handful into her mouth. “Okay, grumpy.” She pats the empty spot on the bed next to her. "Why don't you come and sit down for a minute? The voicemails are literally, not going anywhere."
Jules makes a noise somewhere between a curse and a sigh before returning to his phone, thumbs flying across the screen again.
Rachel lets her eyes drift back to the television, the low murmur filling the room. It’s strange being here again, on the other side of the glass. The house feels smaller than she remembers, brighter, more lived in than the aseptic environment she remembers.
Or maybe she’s just different.
Rachel tilts her head back against the mattress, listening to Jules mutter under his breath about flowers and billing statements. He's only gonna work himself up to the point of not sleeping tonight. But Rachel can't exactly blame him for it. Jules is terrified of losing his son. Nellie is too, although she holds it in a bit better in an effort to not put any extra pressure on Jude.
“Hey,” Rachel says after a moment. She mutes the television. Jules looks to her. “I trust Jude's judgement. If he says that he's found his soulmate, he's found his soulmate. Besides, Sara loves him too much to not to go through with the wedding."
Jules grimaces. “You have way too much faith in people.” He sits down on the bed, practically falling into place next to her.
“Mm,” Rachel hums. “I just know that somehow, you made a pretty incredible kid.”
"Somehow?" Jules mouths, a small smile threatens to spread across his face.
"Against all odds," Rachel says with a quiet laugh. "But seriously, Jules." She reaches for his hand, easing the phone from his grip before he can protest. Her thumb brushes over his knuckles before she brings his hand up, pressing a brief kiss to his ring finger.
Two bands catch the light.
One for her and one for Nell, because neither of them were willing to do another ceremony over it.
“You found your soulmate in Nell,” Rachel says, her voice quieter now, steadier. “So of course Jude was going to find his.”
Jules frowns. "Don't forget I married twice."
"Three times, now." Rachel murmurs before sucking his finger into her mouth and tongues along the smooth, cool metal surface of the rings. She wears her on a chain around her neck, alongside her mother's. Less obvious, but still there. Still meaningful.
"Fuck, Rachel."
Jules inhales a sharp breath, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. He slips his finger free and cups the back of her head, bringing her into a kiss that's too wet and with too much teeth. Open mouthed and ugly, just as it is sexy.
"Can you- fuck-"
Rachel bites at his lip, drawing a thin streak of blood that makes them both shudder.
"Can-"
"I've got you."
Rachel gives him one last kiss before wrapping her thin, delicate fingers around his neck. Jules eyes slide shut. He lets out a sigh of relief -ironically- like he can finally breathe now. She doesn't push too hard, not yet. Just enough to keep the pressure even, to make his throat click with discomfort and his breathing stutter.
He's hard already. It's easy to do, and his slacks tent from the strain of it. Rachel has half a mind to do this until he passes out and makes a mess over himself.
"Starting without me?"
Nellie stands in the doorway with her hair wet and a towel tied across her waist. Her breasts are bare, slick with water, nipples hardening in the cold air. Rachel wants to crawl to her, kiss her, pull the towel free and- Jules pulls Rachel's hands away from his neck, revealing the subtle red outline of her fingers.
"You took so long in the bathroom, what were we supposed to do?" Jules swallows thickly, his eyes rake over her form. Hungry and desperate for her. He always is. "Come on." He curls his finger, waving her over. "What are you waiting for?"
Nell cocks her head to the side and quirks an eyebrow at Rachel. "Do you think that he's earned the right to touch the both of us right now?"
Rachel grins. It's a sly thing that makes Jules shiver. "I don't think so." The girls get mean whenever they're together like this, not that he minds it. Not one bit.
"Not yet at least." Rachel cards her fingers through Jules' hair, making his eyes slip shut. "You've been on edge all day, babe. You need to settle down a bit. Need to earn it."
Fuck. Jules slips his eyes back open and startles. When did Nell get on the bed?
"H-how can I earn it?"
Nellie hums and leans in like she's going to kiss him before rearing to the right where Rachel is. Jules knows better than to touch them as they kiss over his head, but fuck does he want to. He fists the bedsheets instead, desperately trying to be good and groaning at the sight of Rachel's tongue sliding wetly against Nell's.
"Babes," Jules pants, trying to get their attention. "How can I-"
"Sit there and be quiet." Nell snaps. "Touch yourself, but don't cum. Not yet. Alright?"
Jules doesn't need to be told twice.
He fumbles for his belt, yanking it off as the girls giggle and watch. It makes his cheeks heat up as they whisper to each other but damn, does it turn him on being reduced to this thing between them.
They don't always have the time to be together like this. Fate splits them up just as often as it pulls them together and really, Jules supposes that he should grateful that they're all here night now. Grateful to have the threat of another wedding hanging over his head because it means being able to spend time with his two soulmates and his son.
But he's a parent first and foremost, and he can't help but imagine every single worst-case scenario might happen the second Jude takes his place at the alter.
"You're thinking too hard." Nell taps between his eyebrows, drawing his attention. "I told you to shut up and jerk off. Not to have a panic attack."
"Does it look like I'm having a panic attack?" Jules snarls, kicking his pants off and tossing them across the room. He gets his cock out from one breath to the next, fisting himself as if to make a point. It hurts a little. His palm is too dry and he's lost that initial bit of excitement, but even after nearly twenty years of marriage, he hates proving her right.
Nell rolls her eyes and Rachel laughs before shoving Jules flat onto his back, his head bouncing softly against the too many pillows.
"She's right," Rachel tuts. "You've been an anxious mess and you're taking it out on us by being an asshole."
"Shut me up then."
And the girls do.