Disclaimer: Not mine.
A big thanks you to everyone who followed the story, and who added it to their favorites; it means a lot to this starving artist.
Montparnasse discovers that Jehan spoke four languages fluently the first time that Jehan spends the night.
"What did you say?"
"Hmm?" Jehan asks sleepily, curled up adorably on his side, eyes closed, looking so at home in Montparnasse's bed that it would unnerve the thief a bit if Jehan didn't look just so damn cute.
Montparnasse takes another drag of his cigarette and breathes the smoke out of the window, turning back to glance over at Jehan. "When you came. You said something. Didn't catch it."
"Oh, I think it was Italian." Jehan snuggles deeper into the pillow.
"…didn't know you spoke Italian." Another drag. Montparnasse doesn't know why this pisses him off.
"Mmhmm. I was in love with this Italian boy once. Wanted to…sorry, wanted to write him something in his own language," Jehan yawns. "That's actually how I learned the others, too."
"Come again?" He finishes his cigarette and flicks the filter out of the window. "Others?"
"English, Italian, French, Spanish. The romance languages, and the current lingua franca."
This shouldn't piss him off. If Jehan's tendency to sing nonstop doesn't bother him, if Jehan's annoying ex-boyfriend Courfeyrac doesn't bother him (too much), if Jehan's need to look like a neon sign at all times doesn't bother him, then the fact that this lovely boy who writes poetry and wears flowers in his hair is so much smarter than he is definitely shouldn't. It's wrong to begrudge him for this, and Montparnasse knows this. But he can't stop the venomous thoughts once they're already there, so he just pretends that this revelation makes him want Jehan again, and they fall back into bed, vitriolic thoughts turned into anger that can be so easily mistaken for passion.