Fandom: Jane the Virgin
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jane/Michael
Summary: Because, yes, while Michael and Rafael may have learnt to be civil for his and Jane's sake, expecting Michael to invite him along to his bachelor party is just a little too weird. Not that Rafael minds. At all.
Author's Note: AKA my fix-it, because yes I'm not over her throwing away that damn giraffe yet. This is so fluffy, your teeth will rot. Don't say I didn't warn you.
xoxoxox
She'll later blame it on the three sleepless nights in a row.
Night after night of nursing a blocked up, snotty, feverish thirteen month old baby has taken it's toll. And not only is she as exhausted and as miserable as Mateo, she can also feel herself finally surrendering to whatever evil virus has taken hold of this household too.
And yes, it's true. Usually when struck by flu, Jane turns into the cranky, old demented man who lives at the end of the road, but maybe it's the relief that Mateo is at last getting over the worst of it that has her turning into a sobbing, emotional mess whilst watching the shopping channel at two in the morning, instead.
"Jane? Baby what's wrong? Is it Mateo?"
And even though Michael still sounds half asleep, she can hear the concern lacing the words. But how is she supposed to tell him that some random TV spot advertising these new (and really very cute!) jungle print onesies has brought on an overwhelming sense of guilt, and not come away sounding clinically insane?
"Jane? You there?"
"I'm so sorry Michael," she cries, "I'm so sorry!"
"Sorry about what?" and now she can hear the panic and it really doesn't help with the guilt, "What's wrong?"
"I threw it away!" she says distraught, tears streaming down her face.
(And look, she's tired and she's coming down with the flu, okay? She gets a pass. One pass!)
"Threw what away?"
"The giraffe!" she wails.
"The giraffe," Michael mutters, still not quite grasping it, until, "Oh! The giraffe! The giraffe I made you?"
"Yeah," she says, tears still rolling, "I threw it away cos I was trying to get over you, and I'd forgotten all about it until now, and I remembered what I did and . . . do you hate me?"
"Whaa-at?" and there's possibly a hint of amusement in his voice but he wisely decides to disguise that away with a clearing of his throat, "Of course not babe, I get it, okay?"
"You do?"
"I do."
She sniffles.
"Jane?"
"Yeah?"
"It's two in the morning, switch off the TV, take some Tylenol and get some sleep, okay?"
She nods, remembers he can't see her and says, "Okay."
"I love you," he tells her.
"I love you."
In the morning under the complete mercy of the virus, 'I love you' will definitely turn into 'I hate you and I hate everything!' and this particular conversation will be all but forgotten, but for the moment, Jane basks in the warm, fuzzy glow of her heart and takes her fiancés (very sound) advice and does just as he says.
xoxoxox
Mateo is fifteen months old when Jane marries her one true love, and the week before it finally happens, he spends it with his father.
Because, yes, while Michael and Rafael may have learnt to be civil for his and Jane's sake, expecting Michael to invite him along to his bachelor party is just a little too weird. Not that Rafael minds. At all.
And so instead of looking forward to her hen night, which Lina has assured her will be completely tasteful and to her satisfaction, she's sitting there in her room worrying not about one or even two, but all four men in her life.
Funny, how she's gone from a world filled with only women, to one surrounded by the opposite sex in the space of two years.
"Mateo will be fine," Michael reassures her over the phone, "Rafael knows what he's doing."
She spots the surprised smile on her lips reflecting back in the mirror as she opens up her make-up bag, "Did you just pay Rafael a compliment?"
She hears him sigh, before admitting, "He's a great father, Jane. Even I can admit that."
And this, the fact that he can admit such a thing, she remembers, is just one of the many reasons she loves him.
"I know," she says, "But even though Mateo's had sleepovers at his dad's before, it's only ever been one night! Not three!"
"And you're sure this is all to do with how Rafael will manage, or how Mateo will cope without you, and nothing to do with the fact you're already missing him like crazy?"
She can almost sense the smug 'I know you Jane' smile on his lips.
She rolls her eyes, "And I can't miss him even a little?"
"Of course you can, but just try and remember it's your night, and try and enjoy it cos Lina will be super pissed if you don't, especially with how much she's planned-"
"What do you know about what she's planned for my party?" she interrupts, suspicious.
"Nothing," he stutters, "Absolutely nothing."
"Uh huh. Michael?"
"I am sworn to secrecy."
"Damn it. That's not fair. I have no idea what you guys are up to!"
"Well neither do I. Rogelio won't tell me a thing."
"Oh god," she says, dropping her head, "Tell me you'll keep an eye on him?"
"Isn't he supposed to be the one keeping an eye on me?"
"Michael!"
"Kidding! I'm kidding!"
She takes a breath in, looks up at herself in the mirror, and the smile on her face, though just a little bit nervous (how can she not be? It's Rogelio!), is really just so happy. So so so happy.
"Michael?"
And he must somehow sense the change in mood as he replies, "Yeah?"
"I can't wait to marry you."
"Me too, babe. Me too."
It's silent between them for a long moment. Comfortable and completely natural, easy.
She bites her lower lip, doesn't really want to let him go, but knows she must, "Okay, so I should go."
"Okay," and then, "Oh wait! Jane?"
"Yeah?"
"Under your bed. I left something there for you."
"What?" she twists around on her chair, her eyes scanning for it, "I thought we said no presents?"
"I know, but just open it okay? And now I really gotta go. Rogelio's just turned up and he's standing there tapping his foot and pointing over-dramatically at his watch."
She hears something along the lines of "I do not over-dramatise anything Michael! I am a very skilful, nuanced actor!"
She laughs, and finally hangs up, leaving him to face Rogelio's wrath, which she's sure he'll deal with just fine. Michael is definitely one of Rogelio's favourite people, and she's not sure who was more thrilled when they had finally got back together. Him or her mom. They had both been proud flag bearers for #TeamMichael and that hadn't been weird. Nope. Not at all . . .
She gets down on all four limbs, poking her head under the bed to find this mystery box and she doesn't have to look very hard. It's the one not covered in layers of dust.
Pulling it out, she sits herself on the edge of her bed before opening it up.
She's holding her breath and doesn't even realise it.
Only lets it go when she sees what's inside and has to stamp down on the sudden, terrible urge to cry.
It's not the fact that he's gone and whittled her another giraffe, because frankly, it doesn't really look a thing like the one she once had. No, it's the fact there's three of them in there now. Another one a similar size to hers, but it's the smaller one, the one painted a pale yellow with splodges of brown that has the tears pooling in her eyes, and she can't help the bubble of wet laughter that leaves her lips.
But there's more.
Sitting underneath is a folded piece of paper and she recognises Michael's messy scrawl easy enough.
Opening it up with shaking hands, she reads;
Dear Jane,
So I don't know how much of that late night conversation you remember from months ago. You were delirious with a fever and lack of sleep and probably forgot all about it, but I didn't. You were so worried I'd be mad you'd thrown it away, but I wasn't. I really wasn't. I was glad, actually. Because that first giraffe? It was terrible, and I have waaaay better whittling skills than that . . .
She laughs into her hand, face still wet with tears.
. . . And this time I actually get to show them off. I was going to go with a jungle theme, maybe throw in a lion or a zebra, but it's the funniest thing. ALL the sticks I picked up looked like giraffes. Every damn one. I think it's the ears . . .
Jane wipes away her tears, sniffling, the smile on her lips trembling.
. . . If you haven't guessed already, the little one's for Mateo. And just in case you were wondering, it's lead free paint, one-hundred percent baby safe so he can slobber all over it to his heart's content.
Anyway, I hope you like them. I personally love our little family of giraffes. They look just like us, don't you think? :-P And don't worry about Mateo, he will be absolutely fine. Now go and enjoy your night out, you deserve it.
Love,
Michael.
Folding the letter back on itself, she presses it against her chest, takes a deep breath in and grabs hold of her phone.
She types out just two words, and presses send.
He knows the rest, it doesn't need saying.
Thank you
End.