JD is willing to do just about . . . anything for his partner. Except, maybe, y’know- change his fundamentals as a person? And he’s generally pretty open about things, people, you name it. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone, who is he to stop you from a pastime that comforts you? 

He’s never heard of age regression before- in some regards, you still believe he may have never learned what coping mechanisms were either. And he certainly would never have pegged you as an individual that needed it. He knew of all the hurt you had gone through, of everything you tried to recover from. He guesses he never thought of how you planned to heal from it. Thinking maybe that he’d be enough to fix your broken bones.

He doesn’t ask you about it. Well, not for a while. JD prides himself in being so studious, in his curious, watchful nature. He always picked up the little bits and ends of people. And yet- he misses this. 

You’d been sneaking around him so easily, hiding the tenderest of your heart. He hates to think you hadn’t felt safe enough to let him know . . . but he thinks of the Heathers and Jocks of the world, and reconsiders. You must have been so scared. He can picture you alone and shaking in your room, after a long, painful week of school. He only wishes he’d moved sooner. He’d have come bounding into your life quicker, to be there for you, to protect you from brainless cruelty. 

Some bullshit, it was meant to be mantra loops his brain. He still wishes he had been there, every night. 

A few days after you tell him, he finally peaks his own curiosity and asks a question. Or, you don’t tell him either. Which also bugs him. But he finds out, because he doesn’t call to tell you he’s coming over or wait at the front door or even arrive at a normal time. He knocks on your bedroom window and stands outside waiting for you to let him in. You’d expressed distaste to him breaking in in the past. You don’t reply and he gets worried. And when he gets fed up and swiftly props the window up so he can climb in, he’s met with a pretty scary sight.

You’re lying on the floor, your side pressed against your flooring. You have one hand against your ear, you bite and suck on your other thumb. You hold a crumpled mess of blankets towards your chest, like they’re a fun, plush animal friend.

You don’t seem nearly as scared as he thought you might’ve been seeing him whilst in such a state. You’re just upset and overwhelmed, and you tell him as such when he’s knelt down beside you. You struggle with getting the right words, but he knows you’re struggling and he stays with you the whole night till you calm down. 

And, okay, you do answer his question(s). He has . . . a lot. He’s confused. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong, really. He knows you’re hurting, but doesn’t quite know that it’s not all fresh wounds you’re suffering from.

He first asks, “Why?”

Not in that manner. 

He waits till it’s the two of you, when you don’t seem too stressed, but still have that glossy, sad look he witnessed those few days before. The two of you are cuddling on your bed, you’re safely nestled between his legs and you contently play with the loose threads on his sleeves, as he holds you with one arm and caresses his hand through your hair. 

“Hey, why did you hide that part of yourself?”

You tilt your head to look at him. “Huh?”

JD’s light smile twitches. He can’t show his hurt so blatantly. “Oh, c’mon, Sid. You know what I’m talking about.”

They look back down to their activity, their hands moving through the fabric quicker. “I didn’t know how you’d react,” you mumble.

Jason does frown at this, and you can feel that as he presses a kiss to your head and nestles his cheek there.

“I love you, darlin’. It’s the two of us, against the world, remember?” 

“Yeah, but-”

JD cuts you off. He wouldn’t allow your self-doubting anxieties to get in the way. 

.

You don’t ask him to help out. But he knows you need it. 

Every time he notices your demeanor go towards that place; he knows something’s up. He figures this out half by observation, and the other was you coming from your shell, and telling him how you felt. 

He comes to know the first time he found you huddled on your bedroom floor, was due to a sensory overload meltdown. Nothing felt right that day, and you had hoped- so bad - that the icky feeling would dissipate with the night. You craved pressure and the lights in the hallway were too bright and you could still hear your mother brushing her teeth in the other room. You couldn’t turn the lights off and you couldn’t tell your mother- she’d freak out at you for being so sensitive. You could, though, press your body tightly against your floor and hold onto something, a barrier between angry, red skin and yourself. You could feel grounded on your bedroom floor. You could, maybe, even, sleep. 

.

He doesn't know how to feel that you need him. He’s thrilled. He wants nothing more than to be everything you desire. He worships you. He loves you. But you need help when you’re feeling so small? You need a hand, you need someone to give you the care you never received? He feels so lost. He never had the care you needed growing up. He doesn’t want to screw you up with backwards thinking. 

So, it takes time. He doesn’t feel completely comfortable with you regressing at first. But he always comes later on in the night to calm you down and help you sleep. 

One night, you’re curled up in his arms, and you scrunch his shirt up in your fists as you call out for him. “Papa, ‘eed you.” 

He looks down at you, and he combs his hand through your hair and you shake it off. The touch felt too light. “What’s wrong, darling?”

He peers at you and his stare, dark eyes boring into you, is unshakeable. 

“Need you,” you repeat. It’s clearer this time. 

He asks again. He suggests closing the window or getting a blanket and you don’t know how to respond. It’s so hard to form how you’re feeling into words. Everything is a little too much and it hurts. You’re so worried your boyfriend will judge you for what does come out. No matter how much he tells you he cares and tries to shush away your insecurities, they’re still there. 

“Jus’ hurs righ’ now. B-bad feeling.” 

He moves to leave your side and you only pull at him again. 

“Need. .hard no’ ligh’.”

He forces his face to stay neutral, as he works through the confusion. “Do you need pressure, is that it?”

You nod. 

“Okay, get up. With me.” 

You whine and he gives you a look and you go along with it. He peels your blankets back, and has you get under them. He sheds his jacket and pants, and makes sure you’re comfortable in your clothes, too. He lays back down next to you, bringing the sheets back up and over your bodies, tucking it in tight around the edges. He presses his body to yours when you still whine for pressure, safety. He hangs his arm over you and rests his body weight against you. He’s worried that he might hurt you. But the content purr as he finally does so, washes his worries away. 

You thank him again and again. Your papa was so perfect to you. 

.

A few months into all this, JD brings up helping ease you into your regression headspace. To help relieve your stress before it gets too much. He also brings up your sensory issues, as he noticed the two were often connected. He also tells you that the two of you don’t need to talk about all of it right now, but he needs to know how to be there for you. How to treat you. How to love you.

And you tell him you don’t know how to explain any of it. Certain sensations or inputs just . . . overwhelm you. Like the ticking of clocks or people brushing their teeth made you upset and angry. And you know to everyone else it feels irrational, but it’s such a big deal for you . 

Jason asks if the pressure has to do with your sensory issues, and you nod. You tell him how light touches can feel violating and more intense, how it feels like he’s not quite there. How you need his reassurance. And he says he understands and he gets it, or he at least tries to get it- and you smile, a full smile, of unbridled joy, at his response. 

“I love you, Papa!” You yell, excited. You squeeze him in a big hug, and he returns it.

He smiles, “Of course, babe.” 

.

There are some problems he notices this pose. 

He’d never blame you for feeling small or overwhelmed- or for how you reacted or dealt with that feeling. You were trying so hard and he was so very, very proud of you! 

But helping you at home, in your room, late at night- was no hassle. It was safe and secluded and no one but you and Him were there, could hear or know what was going on.

In school, it was different. You only had a few classes together. When the lights were too bright or the chatter in the classrooms too loud, it was much harder to get away from it, to self soothe. You couldn’t just walk out. 

You try to nap at your desk. Your hands discreetly covering your ears. One of your classmates bumps into your desk on the way back to her seat, not even a glance back or an apology. You bite your lip and hunch your shoulders up, weeping at your desk. Or, no, trying not to cry but failing horribly, miserably. 

JD is at the back of the classroom, he always is. It’s the best place to avoid unwanted eyes. He also loves it for the exact opposite reason, no one pays attention to the kids in the back. He can study his classmates without questions. He knows so many secrets he shouldn’t, because people never think he’s listening in. 

Sometimes he watches you, too. He loves seeing you frustrated, nibbling at the end of your pencil as you struggle with your assignment (he always “helps” you later with it- he isn’t much of a studier, though). He thinks you’re cute, especially when you don’t notice you’re being looked at. 

But he notices the negative interactions with your classmates, too. He’s never been one to keep a lid on his frustrations. 

He interjects, he calls her out for her shit.

“Did you want to apologize to someone?” He quirks a brow at the classmate. She looks bewildered and mumbles something under her breath.

Before she gets back to her seat, Jason gets up and takes great strides, rushing to your side. He pays no attention to the girl, as she steadies herself on some poor fool’s desk.

“Hey, watch where you’re going! You almost knocked me over, freak.” 

He thinks briefly on what any other student would do. Ignore it. Give some stupid retort back. 

He flashes her a grin, “That should be the least of your worries.” He opens up his jacket enough for her to see the handgun tucked away in the inside pocket.

Needless to say . . . she freaks out. And the teacher tells them, finally, to quiet down. It escalates, he gets sent home for the day. He’s not even worried or peeved about his end of the situation. He only has blanks in there, anyways. With the diversion he created, you could easily slink away from the classroom to a quieter space. Without all the suspicion gathered around it.

You don’t see JD again till after school passes. You know he’s at home. At his dad’s house. Knows that he probably got chewed out about his careless behavior. So obvious, so frivolous. No pizazz to his act. Nothing.

You know he’ll be upset. But he’ll act like nothing’s wrong. And it frustrates you. He always does so much for you. You could be an emotional anchor, too. Gosh darn, you could!

You hope it’s just him that’s making it difficult. 

That’s not right.

You hope that it’s not because of you, that Jason shuts himself off. You know that part of it’s that. That he didn’t grow up around parents who could be emotionally vulnerable with him. That he never had any close friends growing up. That, yeah, he had major trust issues.

Part of you worries that it’s more . That he feels cut off from you, that your issues overshadow his own. That he spends so much energy on you, that he has nothing left at the end of the day to give to you. He can’t splay his heart out on the table, because you are exhausting. 

And you have to shake off the feeling that you’re too much and you’re overthinking it. JD would let you know if he was upset with you, right? 

Thankfully, his dad isn’t home when you knock on the door. Usually you’d call him beforehand, to let him know you were coming over. You’d come to learn that despite his surprise visits at your place, JD was never thrilled about who could be at his door. Irrational fears? Maybe. His own guarded trauma? That you were certain of.  

He peeks through the peephole, unlocking the door and removing the latch at the top. He leans against the semi-open door. 

Jason gives a weary smile, “What’s up?” 

“I wanted to see you, JD.” 

He shrugs. Instantly amused by you. “Alright. You’ve seen me, now what? What’s the big surprise , Y/n?” 

You roll your eyes at his reaction, at his jazz hands. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you. I can be excited for that, right?” 

JD barks a laugh. “Of course.” 

He leads you in, locking and latching the door behind him once more. 

“The old man’s out for the night.”

“Perfect.”

“I knew you’d be sad about that,” he smiles and pulls you in for a rough kiss on the crown of your head. 

He picks up where he left off. He’d been reading some kind of magazine. It was boring. But he liked the distraction. He liked something that was a bit mind-numbingly dumb sometimes. He flops down on the couch, picking the tabloid off the coffee table. You hesitantly join him. You lean your head on his shoulder. 

The two of you stay like that for a while. You get up once to turn the fan off (it wasn’t very hot at all, you think it was just left on for background noise), but the noise rattles in your head and it’s all you can think about. Neither JD or you say anything, you just return to his side once more, till he’s finishing up the last page. He throws it with an exasperated huff onto the table. 

You snuggle closer to him, cradling your face next to his. You breathe in his scent, old leather and blood. You want to wrap it up and take it around with you everywhere. Maybe make a candle, so your room would always have a little bit of your boyfriend in it. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, in a quiet, mousy voice. 

JD doesn’t really respond. He doesn’t even shake his head or avert his eyes. He does, however, snake his arm around you and pulls you in tight. You whine- not at the embrace, which you loved- but his response. 

“Please?” 

He glances away and squeezes you tighter. You take that as your queue- don’t press it. 

“Thank you for what you did today, though. You’re always such a protector. You’re, like– my prince!” You try not to sound too giddy at the thought, you knew JD wouldn’t be up for much play time. Or maybe . . . any play time. That would be okay though, you rationalize with yourself. 

Jason Dean finally looks at you. His eyes water, only slightly. His brows furrow and he seems almost confused, but you know he isn’t. JD was the smartest person you knew. His lips quirk into a small smile. 

He chuckles, hiding his mouth when his laugh reaches a higher pitch. “Yeah, I am. Aren’t I? What does that make you, little one?” 

Oh god, okay. Maybe you can’t stay big for long right now.

You hum. “Maybe a princess? Or another prince?”

He boops your nose with your own, and you nearly forget why you’re there as your mind gets hazy. 

“JD, are you hur’?” 

He shakes his head.

“Are you sure? Papa, would you tell me if you were?” 

He looks at you quizzical. 

“Of course, dear.” He motions for you to get up. You do so, mostly unwilling. You follow him to his bedroom. “Y’know, I wanted to wait to give this to you. Sometime special but.” 

He sorts through his top dresser drawer, and pulls out a soft plushie of your favorite animal. You squeal as he hands it to you. 

“I was going to give it to you earlier today, at school. But those high school  Neanderthals  got in the way.”

You smile at the gesture and hold your new plushie in a tight grip against your chest. You loved the feeling of your fingers sunk into the fuzz and stuffing. It was squishy and had a bit of weight to it. 

“Thank you,” you mumble into your new toy. 

JD was all too good at distracting you. He knows you’re worried about him, but he doesn’t know how to tell you that this? Being the one real thing that can get you to smile? Makes up for all his bad feelings. He never feels alone with you. Never feels judged.

You always treat him with softness. You’re always looking out for him. And if you could just look up and see his face in this moment, how his smile reaches his eyes- that all he needs is you. As you are. He could face a lifetime more of hardships, as long as you could stay by his side.