Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1146102.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, F/F
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Levi/Eren_Yeager, Marco_Bott/Jean_Kirstein, Sasha_Blouse/Connie_Springer,
      Reiner_Braun/Bertolt_Hoover, Krista_Lenz_|_Historia_Reiss/Ymir, Other
      Relationship_Tags_to_Be_Added, Mikasa_Ackerman/Annie_Leonhart
  Character:
      Eren_Yeager, Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin), Armin_Arlert, Mikasa_Ackerman,
      Jean_Kirstein, Marco_Bott, Connie_Springer, Erwin_Smith, Hanji_Zoe, Sasha
      Blouse, basically_everyone, Reiner_Braun, Bertolt_Hoover, You_get_the
      general_gist_of_it
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_1980s, POV_Multiple, Eventual_Fluff, Eventual_smut/
      romance, Underage_Drinking, Underage_Smoking, Consensual_Underage_Sex,
      Recreational_Drug_Use, General_hoodlumism, Everyone_being_a_little_shit,
      Except_Marco_obviously, hijinks_a-plenty, Horny_Teenagers, More_teenage
      angst_then_you_can_shake_a_decently_sized_stick_at, Coming_Out, Coming_of
      Age, Tattoos, Almost_a_musicfic?_If_you_squint?, Piercings, Precious_baby
      punks, Panic_Attacks, Mental_Health_Issues, dark_pasts, The_odd_traumatic
      event
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-21 Updated: 2014-07-10 Chapters: 30/40 Words: 70803
****** Summer 1982 ******
by illiadus
Summary
     What if Sina, Maria and Rose were just road names in an average town,
     in regular ass-crack nowhere, in America mid-1982?
     The 80's AU where the SNK cast are teenagers doing teenage things
     during their summer vacation, learning about love, life, liquor and
     (kind of) responsibility.
Notes
     Christ on bike, I am hella nervous about this- my first ever fic! I
     hope you guys enjoy it, and if there’s some popular response I’ll
     start working on future chapters. Um, just as a heads-up, the
     beginning of this chapter is a little slow-going, just because I want
     to set the scene properly and all that.. Sorry! :)
     N.B Follow this link http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Summer+1982/
     98427061 for a playlist of all the music each chapter is named after
     so you can listen whilst you read and vice versa and just absorb all
     the 80's goodness
***** Shake the Disease *****
EREN'S POV.
Eren took a deep breath through his nose and forced it out of his lungs the
same way, appreciating the spongy combination of grass and verdant scrub his
body was splayed across. The air was sweet and great slabs of lurid sunlight
filtered through the luscious trees which bordered the tiny park. He checked
his watch sparingly, pretending if he paid it no mind would distract him from
how late his ride was. Eren had always loathed having to rely on others for
things, but that was one of the great burdens of being totally under Mikasa’s
thumb; their somewhat dingy shared Toyota Starlet was predominantly hers until
he could save up for his own car.
That being said Stohess, Arizona wasn’t exactly rife with places anyone was
desperate to get to. School was okay, his sophomore year had drifted past with
little impact; same group of excitable friends as last year, same batshit
teachers, same below-average grades. Besides there, the only places Eren
visited were various friends houses which were often no more than a ten-minute
bike ride away anyway, plus the park, the tacky Star Market where he and his
friends had discovered Reiner could buy beer, the stretch of scrub land they
built bonfires on, and when they were lucky the sordid downtown area, where on
a certain night at a certain bar they could occasionally slip in without
getting carded.
He lay still a little longer, thoughts and worries gently passing through his
mind, acknowledged but not fully addressed; summer vacation was far from over
at early August and Eren wasn’t willing to begin dwelling on serious matters
for at least another month. Stabbing through his introspective stupor came an
aggressive double-beep of Bertolt’s shitty but beloved Ford truck. Eren sat up
and waved, before standing and jogging over, squinting against the relentless
assault of the sun. Reiner sat up front in the cab alongside Bertolt, the
muscular frame and confident grin he sported quite the opposite to Bertl’s
gangly proportions and shy wave in return to Eren's.
In the trailer sat six teenagers; Jean Kirstein and Marco Bott one side, Annie
Leonhart, Christa Renz and Armin Arlert sat on the other, resembling one long
streak of blonde and disapproving blue eyes, watching whilst Connie Springer
and Sasha Blause wrestled in the middle of the contraption, both intent on
snatching the apparently salvageable Reese's Peanut Butter Cup from the other.
Eren snorted and used his much-practiced technique of ignoring them to slither
into the shelf (‘seat’, yeah bullshit Bertl) besides Marco, who greeted him
with his typically sunny smile.
Eren's friends were weird, no doubt about that. A big miss-matched group of
teenagers, all gearing up to become juniors or seniors in Annie, Reiner and
Jean’s case at Trost High School, in the next town across. These kids were all
the Stohess ones with no local school, and families without the cash to
actually move over to Trost. This single common factor had bound them all
together into a sort of family. A terrifying, dysfunctional, and sometimes
downright disgusting family, but one all the same.
His eyes swept around, Jean and Marco were absorbed in conversation about Pac-
Man from what Eren could tell, Armin was talking to Krista, and Annie as ever
was brooding. Eren felt an overwhelming warmth in his chest for his friends and
their distinctive selves; Krista was sweet and honest, her hair typically
bouffant as was the current fashion, she dressed in a pleated mini-skirt and a
blouse which betrayed her somewhat roguish attitude; it was a little worn and
torn in places, with a blatant strip of mud sprayed down the left side. He
smiled at her and joined their conversation, trying to keep up with their
lightning-paced discussion on le Carré's latest novel, which no, shockingly,
Eren hadn’t got around to reading. Nor most likely ever would.
Armin had been his best friend since he could remember; they had grown up on
the same street and he still thought of Armin as the weedy but mentally razor-
sharp boy Eren and Mikasa had defended as kids, despite how much he had grown
up over the past few years. His face was still wholesome and round, and his
blonde bangs still fell in an elegant curve around his chin, but his jeans were
acid-washed and his feet sported ‘they’ll be in fashion soon just you wait’
patented Doc Martens. Much to his Grandfather’s chagrin he had also let Jean
piece his ears, once in each lobe which he displayed with pride when he tied up
his hair. Armin was vulnerable sure, but he was beginning to emanate that
‘don’t-fuck-with-me vibe’ which kids like Eren and Mikasa were apparently born
with.
Annie Leonhart sat gently sucking on a cigarette, fiddling with her nose
piercing (another Jean-experiment) and looking moody as ever. Annie was
difficult to figure out at first, but once she came out of her shell (read:
drunk) she was more fun than almost anyone Eren knew, plus she knew the best
places to score pot and was close with his adopted sister, Mikasa.
Mikasa should have been joining them tonight, but instead promised to meet up
later. Mikasa was almost always good on her promises; she was the same year as
Jean and Reiner, but had always seemed at least five years older than them to
in Eren's eyes. Up front Bertolt revved the engine and the truck jerked into a
dilapidated movement south, towards the beginning of the Sonoran Desert.
“So, Eren, how’s your day been?” Marco asked softly with a hesitant smile.
Marco was shy, and kind, caring and funny. He dressed in cute flannels and
drain pipe jeans. Those are six of the thirty-two thousand reasons why Eren
have never understood Marco and Jean’s friendship. Jean was a fucking douche
most of the time. He was brash, honest to the point of being unpleasant,
abrasive and generally not nice to be around. Jean wore bleached and ripped
trousers with an absolutely unnecessary leather jacket considering the heat,
and a pair of ray-bans that made him look like an absolute tool in Eren's
opinion, along with the two sterling rings which wrapped their way through and
around his lip, both on the left side. That being said, the guy did have his
moments of being cool and sometimes even funny, but it still didn’t explain in
his mind why Marco looked at Jean like he shits out sunlight, nor why Jean
smiled an irritating amount when Marco was around.
Banishing these thoughts, Eren replied, “Fine thank you, just kicking around
the house, trying to fix my bike’s busted wheel”
Marco hummed interestedly, but before he could respond a Reese's Peanut Butter
Cup was crushed against his knee in another of Connie’s vain attempts to keep
it out of Sasha’s maw.
Connie was short, shorter than Armin definitely, and although he hotly denied
it not much taller than Annie. His skin was olive and he kept his hair cropped
short, pretty much consistently buzzed to a number one. He dressed in a shitty
old Yankees Letterman and jeans which were in a worse state than Marco’s but
miles better than Jean’s. Sasha donned flannels and short-shorts more often
than not, long hair as unfailingly tied back as her appetite was unfailingly
unsated.
“Aw shit. my bad Mar-” Connie’s apology was cut off as Sasha made a final
desperate grab for the candy and tore it from his grasp, whooping with glee and
sidling up to sit in the safety of Annie’s lap, who didn’t exactly look
thrilled but it wasn’t like Sasha had any respect for anyone’s personal space
anyway, and began to eat her prize. Connie sighed and pulled the cooler out
from beneath on the the shelves (no really Bert these don’t qualify as seats)
to sit on.
“For fuck’s sake you guys, was that really worth the fight?” Jean said,
scathingly
“Awww don’t be like that Captain Grumpy-Ass” baited back Sasha, doing a
surprisingly good impression of Jean in a strop “Oooh I’m Jean, look at my face
judging you, my horsey horsey fa-”
“Fuck you Blause!” Jean catcalled return, expression softening when he saw that
Marco despite himself was giggling. The group continued to poke name at each
other, trading never truly barbed insults, until they reached their
destination. One hundred metres into the Sonoran Desert was a small fire pit
used to the point of ruin by the local kids and tonight was no exception.
Bertholt and Reiner slid out of the front cab laughing, as Bert lit a cigarette
and helped Marco lower the firewood that had brought to the dusty ground. Bert
smoked due to his nerves, which were never helped by Connie and Sasha’s high
jinks, he dressed in rockabilly style, and was growing his hair out so it had
now reached an awkward feathered length around the nape of his neck. Eren
hopped out of the trailer and received a small bump in the ribs from Armin.
“Are you alright Eren? You seem weirdly, quiet? Not as mean to Jean? Usually
you love coming out here”
Eren nodded in response, he had always loved the desert. “Yeah, my bad for not
keeping up my Jean-bashing appearances.. Dad’s home at the moment, it’s not bad
it’s just.. Uncomfortable I guess”
Armin nodded, understanding immediately and patted Eren's shoulder soothingly.
Jean then hauled the cooler out from underneath Connie’s ass, with no prior
warning to Connie, and began handing out beers. Eren accepted his with a grunt
and popped the tab before turning to help Marco and Bert fumble with the
firewood, helping them teepee it out over the pit, but backing off once the
firestarters were out.
“Yo Annie” He slumped beside her, sipping at his surprisingly lukewarm beer.
“Hey there kid.. Do you think I should tell Bert he’s in the perfect position
to ignite Marco’s asscheek there if he doesn’t stop trying to talk to Reiner
whilst handling firestarters?” I glanced over and observed that indeed, Marco
crouching over the firewood arranging the kindling did put him in prime
position to get burned by Bert as he looked behind him, talking to Reiner
animatedly.
Eren hummed “I think it’s the kind of thing that they have to learn from
experience”
Annie nodded sagely and offered him a cigarette.
They smoked together, eventually roping Armin, Krista and Sasha to sit with in
a semicircle, talking and laughing and drinking our beers.
Connie and Jean attempted to join in on the macho manly man activities but
ending up throwing in the towel and sitting until by some fluke Bert got the
fire lit, only singeing Marco’s behind a minute amount.
“So really,” Jean leant in conspiratorially once the group were organized in a
little semicircle around fire, all watching the little blaze and some moving
onto their third beer “Someone has to ask.”
Armin cocked his head in a gesture of confusion “Ask what?”
“Armin come on, seriously, I think I know what your answer is going to be to
this question actually..”
I decided to pipe up “Spit it out Jean you fucking moron, what are you going
ask?”
Jean dramatically drained his beer then glanced around the circle
“So, the question is, who’s a virgin?”
JEAN'S POV
“So, the question is, who’s a virgin?”
Jean couldn’t help but grin as he watched the reactions around the circle.
“Well,” he began confidently as he tugged the cooler over to grab another beer
“who wants to start?”
Eren immediately started scowling. “Well seeing as it’s your idea you should
probably go first”
Jean shrugged, it wasn’t a bad point. “Seeing as you’re so interested
Jaegerbomb, no I am not a virgin.” It was drunken, disappointing and once, but
he decided against mentioning that in favour of mentally reaffirming to himself
that it still counted.
Armin’s eyebrows raised, and Marco blushed a little but Eren just scoffed.
“Bullshit Kirstein, absolute fucking bullshit”
Jean glanced at Reiner who met his eyes before thoroughly rolling his own.
“Unfortunately not Eren, it was Mina Caroline, last year at Tom Wagner’s house
party,” he paused to grimace “I, ah, walked in Jean and her by mistake, and
will never quite scrape that image of my retinas.”
Jean grinned and slapped him on the back, “That’s my man!”
“No but really, fuck you, I get night terrors now.”
Connie laughed especially hard at Reiner’s joke, or at least Jean assumed a
joke, and he raised an eyebrow at him.
“Who me?” Connie smirked “Jean, you know I have mad game”
Jean rolled his eyes at that almost as a knee-jerk reaction at Connie talking
about his 'game'. Incidentally he had also never seen Connie get past second
base with a girl.
“Oh yeah? Who then?” exclaimed Sasha, “I didn’t realize pygmies were popular
with the bitches”
Everyone snorted with laughter and Connie's expense, Bert choking on his beer
and needing a good thump on the back from Reiner. “Hey, remember that Hannah
girl? Who left last year to move to California? Yeah, her” Connie said
triumphantly.
“Bullshit” Annie said scathingly “She was with that enormous Franz guy the
entire time she went to Trost High School”
Connie grinned and gave her his best lewd eyebrow wriggle “That’s just what she
wants you to think, baby”
Scandalized gasps circled the group and what had now evolved into a game
continued: unsurprisingly most of the group were virgins, although most had
done their fair share of foreplay, just not ‘done the deed’.
Reiner admitted he had had sex with his ex-girlfriend Hitch a few times which
was of no surprise to anyone, and Annie coldly said she was also not a virgin,
but the guy she lost it to was ‘no one you losers would know’. The only real
surprise of the game was Bertl, who before flushing red and producing enough
sweat to hydrate a small African village, confessed he had fucked someone too.
“No way” Sasha gasped and Jean followed the sentiment, before asking impishly
“So, who was she?”
Bertl flushed all over again before stammering that it was someone who had
graduated this year and was going away to college further up the country.
Even Eren rolled his eyes at that “yeah Bertl” he pressed, “But what was her
name?”
Bertl squeaked a few times before averting his eyes to the ground and mumbling
something
Reiner poked his side and whined “Speak up, and how come you never told me
about this? I thought we were best friends man” Bertl gazed in anguish at
Reiner’s hangdog expressed before sighing, sweating some more and mumbling
again.
This time Armin heard from his other side and his eyes rushed to the size of
dinner plates “Wow. Really Bertie? Wow.. I wouldnt’ve guessed that was all”
Armin breathed all this out in a rush before looking around guiltily “It’s
probably better to leave it gu-”
“No no, it’s okay” Bertl looked around with an unfamiliar quality of steel in
his eyes “It was Mylius. Mylius Zeramuski. The blondish guy on the track team
last year?”
The teenagers all let out a bemused breath. Jean himself had never suspected
Bertl of being gay, and from the way the lanky boy was squirming now Jean
realised he probably knew that.
Jean clapped him on the back, fuck it, he thought, solidarity and all that. He
found himself saying “Good job man, he was cute”
The tension dissolved immediately and the rest of the group followed suit,
Reiner still looking a little hurt he wasn’t the first one to know.
The alcohol began to work through people’s systems, and Sasha squealed a demand
for a game of Never Have I Ever. Armin retreated to the truck to grab some
plastic cups and the bottle of whisky that he and Krista had picked up earlier,
and they began their game. It started out pretty tame, boring shit like “Have
you ever been walked in one whilst fooling around?”
Jean drank heartily to that one, shooting Reiner a wiggle of the eyebrows
“Streaked?”
Connie fist pumped and chugged half his cup to that one, Eren also grinned and
followed suit to my surprise, Jaegerbombastic was usually pretty much a pussy
about sex and nudity, despite his reckless nature
“Pissed yourself?”
“Had sex in public?”
“Done a body shot?”
It then came to Jean's turn, and he decided to honour Bertl’s accidental coming
out with a slightly drunken slur of “Ever thought about someone of the same sex
in, y’know, that way?”
(Cut some slack here, although streaking was a no he had done the rest of those
things, even the pissing thing which sounds weird out of context but that was
honestly the most falling-down-drunk he had ever been)
Jean glanced around, Armin shrugged and drank, naturally so did Bertl,
following suit was Krista, Annie and Reiner. The last person to drink was
Marco, which surprised him a little. Jean was close with Marco, like crazy
close and he had never mentioned anything of the sort to him. All those times
they had hung out at Jean's place until four in the morning watching lame VCR
tapes or singing to songs they both outwardly pretended to hate, even the times
they got stoned and laid on the roof, talking shit and gazing at the stars he
had never said a word to Jean about liking guys, even a little. He frowned a
little, making a mental note to ask him about it later on.
The game continued and several re-fills were made, then once everyone had
exhausted their imaginations Bertl pulled his boombox out onto the trailer and
played it as loud as he could. Sasha and Connie danced like lunatics, even Eren
was drunk enough to grab Armin by the hands and swing him around.
Jean threw himself into the action, thrashing around with Connie until he was
out of breath and had to slump down into the sandy scrub and gently puff on a
cigarette he had been planning to save. He grabbed onto a familiar ankle as it
passed him by, causing Marco to stumble and fall practically on top of him, but
the exercise had sent the alcohol straight to Jean's brain so that didn’t
perturb him in the slightest
“Heeeeeey Marcooo”
He giggled in that little way he did that assured Jean that everything was
going to be okay and the world was a good place really, and in a fit of
affection he gathered Marco up in my arms (no easy feat) and squeezed him in a
tight embrace, his hand unconciously carding through his hair in that way it
seemed perfectly natural to him at the time. The moment stretched on, their
hearts and small huffs of breath happening in tandem, right up until Eren stood
square on Jean's crotch.
He was not drunk enough for that to not hurt.
He thrashed in pain, displacing Marco who was in quiet hysterics of laughter
“Fuck you Jaeger!” Jean screamed with all the gruffness he could muster when it
felt like his voice had transposed four octaves higher. This just made Marco
(the little Judas) and Eren (the little shit) laugh even harder. He curled up
into a little nauseous ball of hate for Eren, and lay on the floor groaning
until Reiner came over and poked his side.
“What’s wrong there friend?”
Jean just groaned some more and clutched his probably-ruptured testicles.
Reiner then just joined in the giggling at my expense. All Jean could think was
seriously, fuck my friends.
REINER'S POV
Eventually Jean stood up, but continued pouting until Marco fussed over him and
the he swore to Odin that he was going to ‘fucking castrate Eren Jaeger for the
crimes he had committed against his balls’, which was sweet of him really.
Reiner was feeling pretty good, sipping away at the bottom quarter of the
whisky bottle and shamelessly dancing with Annie and Bertl, who honestly he did
feel a little betrayed by. What kind of person doesn’t tell their friends,
fuck, their closest friend that they had sex? With a guy? That wasn’t really
the part that bothered Reiner, he had thought about guys in that way before
too. Did his friend think he was some kind of raging homophobe who would eschew
him if he liked boys? He doubted that. Over the sound of some lame Depeche Mode
song which Armin loved, came the rumble of an engine.
“It’s Mikasa!” Eren exclaimed, only slurring a little to his credit “Oh man she
brought her graduate friends, can we change the music to something cooler?”
The Toyota Starlet pulled up and out evacuated Mikasa, some tall blonde guy
with killer eyebrows, a girl with hair a bit like Sasha’s but with glasses
which gave her the look of a madwoman, and finally a tall girl with freckles.
“What’s up ‘Kasa?” Eren greeted clumsily, however Mikasa seemed similarly
bombed, and after wrapping Eren in a hug, began to mingle along with her
friends; the girl with freckles immediately latching onto Krista, who seemed
totally unphased by the sudden attention, Reiner wound up chatting with Eren
and Mr Eyebrows, who introduced himself as Erwin.
“All I’m saying is, there’s no way the punk over here is as good as it is in
the UK”
“Yeah but who gives a damn about that, it’s still about rock’n’roll in my
opinion-”
“Wow let me stop you there” Reiner interjected, “what about Def Leppard?”
Erwin and Eren both shook their heads. “That’s metal, dumbass.”
From then he kind of tuned out, the whisky bottle gone and his head gently
spinning.
***** Burning Up *****
Chapter Notes
     Okay, so quickly just to say some of the music I mention in this fic
     although from the 80's probably wouldn't be around by this point but
     shh, use your imagination kids.
     Also at this point in Arizona the drinking age was 19, hence the
     reference to that later on in the chapter.
     Thank you for your kudos and even just reading it, hope you enjoy
     this installment :)
CONNIE’S POV
Connie woke up with a groan and sunlight streaming into his eyes through the
open window. He was in his designated zone of the left side of Sasha’s queen-
sized bed, her sleeping self splayed across the other side in her typically
haphazard manner. Connie rolled his neck and grunted with satisfaction as it
clicked into a less painful disposition, before scooting over to the Sasha’s
pillow to poke her cheek
“Sashaaaa”
She grunted in response
“Yo, Sashs come on it’s like” he checked his battered watch, “It’s like midday,
get on up loser”
Sasha turned over and waved a hand in response, obviously not giving a shit.
“Sasha..” Connie wheedled “Are you sure you don’t want.. Breakfast? I could
make you some of those eggs you love..”
That was all the motivation she needed to spring upwards and out of the bed,
and grope for his hand.
“Ooooh really? With the toast and the cheese and everything?”
Connie sighed and sat up, head whirling in protest.
“Sure thing, fuck I feel terrible”
“That’s probably because you let that crazy Hanji girl challenge you to shots,
Bertl puked like everywhere after that”
“Ew gross..” Connie dragged himself upright, his head giving another
treacherous lurch. “Alright, let’s go see what’s in the fridge, if not
everything’s there though I am not walking to the store, if I do I’ll probably
combust and then no one will be there no make you any food.”
Sasha rolled her eyes at his dramatics and pulled him up and out her bedroom
door, down towards the kitchen. Her parents had already left for work, but the
kitchen was mostly intact and Connie opened the fridge, pulling out all the
ingredients he would need for what in his head he called ‘Sasha’s stupid
favourite fucking eggs’. Sasha grinned and turned on the radio, which was
promptly turned off after Connie started groaning all over again, clutching at
his head and demanding tylenol.
Once the eggs were sizzling away and they were both dosed up on tylenol, talk
turned to last night. “Remind me again, how the fuck did we get home?” Connie
asked, expertly flipping Sasha’s Stupid Favourite Fucking Favourite Eggs and
stretching his back, hitching up his boxers whilst he was at it. “Turns out
Krista designated herself driver the moment Armin pulled out that whisky, so we
just got dropped off. Thank fucking Christ I remembered my key..”
Connie hummed thoughtfully, emptying the pan of Sasha’s Stupid Favourite
Fucking Favourite Eggs and putting them into a pair of cheesy plastic plates
adorned with Sesame Street characters, adjusting his the vest covering his
torso which he hadn’t noticed until now. He plonked the plate in front of Sasha
who started devouring it as only Sasha could, before he more calmly tucked into
his plate.
“Hold on, is that my shirt?” Connie squinted at the exceptionally lame Banana
Splits t-shirt which was stretched across Sasha’s chest.
“Um yeah, well you do leave your shit everywhere and it is an exceptionally
lame Banana Splits t-shirt”
“Hey! It’s ironically awesome! And I’ve been looking for it everywhere”
“Whatever Con,” She stood up and moved her plate to the sink “Before you ask
yes, these are your boxers too”
Connie spluttered on his mouthful of eggs, “How the fuck did you manage to
steal a pair of my underpants without me noticing?!”
Sasha just shrugged, "no idea, think I was wearing them on my head when we
tried those shrooms at your place with Jean and Annie the other week and just
sort of forgot about them..”
Connie’s eyes bugged “Alright let me reiterate, why the fuck you wearing them
on your head in the first place?”
“They were to keep the Xenomorphs out of my earholes, Jean said it was a good
plan, and they just kind of stayed on until I got home and by then they had..
Chosen me I guess”
EREN’S POV
Eren awoke much more pleasantly, to a stabbing headache and a mournful groan
that he hadn’t drunk water before he slept like Mikasa always told him to. His
drymouth was entering the realms of epic so he shuffled downstairs, clad in
boxers and dragging his duvet with him like a cape.
Mikasa was already awake and having a cigarette in the kitchen, eyes tired and
hands clasped around a mug of coffee.
“Dad’s gone” were her only words of greeting
Eren sighed, their dad had only been home a week, which was less than usual
before he had to disappear off to another far-off state. He knew it wasn’t his
fault really; his dad was one of the only three experts on specific heart
conditions in America, but he was the only family they had besides each other
since their mother had passed away five years ago. Eren had almost exclusively
been raised by Mikasa since then, and their dad still paid all the bills and
left as much spending money as he could.
“How long’s he going to be?” Eren asked, shuffling around and pouring himself a
generous cup of coffee.
“Not before school starts again he doesn’t think, he did leave about $200
though”
“That’s not so bad,” Eren paused to lean across the counter and take a drag of
Mikasa’s cigarette “We can survive a month and a half”
Mikasa nodded and he coaxed a small smile out of her before turning around to
fix himself a bowl of cereal. “Oh by the way, Eren” Mikasa giggled “Nice neck.”
Eren gasped and jogged to look in the hallway mirror, head protesting
violently.
There were not hickeys as he had feared, but rather a smeared phone number,
thankfully still legible. He wandered back into the kitchen. “Not a hook up I’m
afraid dear sister” He began eating his cereal with gusto, pausing only to add,
“You know the tall guy? Ermin, Arwin-”
“Erwin, you fucking dope”
“Yeah whatever, Mr Eyebrows as Reiner probably didn’t realise he was calling
him, and I got talking and he said he knew someone who could get me a summer
job. This is the number I was supposed to call to get details.”
Mikasa nodded and crushed out her cigarette. “Yeah, he works downtown, at The
Pirripin. It’s a pretty nice bar, all the patrons are queer as hell but still,
good people and good money. Want me to drive you down there later on? I’m
meeting Annie and Krista for coffee.”
“More coffee?” Eren nudged her playfully until she rolled her eyes to the point
it looked painful.
“Yes dickfuck. Do you want that lift or not?”
“Yeah, yeah hold on just let me change and ring Armin”
Eren bolted upstairs and changed into one of his more presentable plain t-
shirts with some dark jeans. He checked himself in the mirror and wondered not
for the first time if he should let Jean pierce his eyebrow. He thought it
would look pretty badass, before putting in his lobe piercings but opting to
leave out his cartilage and helix. He wanted to look at least a little
presentable for his potential future employers, before grabbing the phone of
the cradle in the hall and almost from muscle memory tapping in Armin’s number.
His grandfather picked up on the second ring.
“Hi Mr Arlert, it’s Eren”
“Aaah hello there Eren, yes Armin is just here, I’ll let you two chat shop..”
Armin’s voice replaced his grandfather’s on the phone, a little breathless
“Hey Eren, you only just up?”
“Pretty much yeah, say I’ve gotta go downtown to ask about a summer job, d’you
know if anything’s going on tonight?”
“Hmmm.. Not sure, I know tomorrow night we’re hanging out at Jean’s so probably
not”
“Huh, okay just as well I suppose, alright see you tomorrow then, I’ll cycle
over in the afternoon some time?”
“Yeah sure, good luck with getting your job!”
After that Armin disconnected and Eren jogged downstairs to finish off his
coffee. He and Mikasa didn’t end up heading off the downtown until four, seeing
as the bar was unlikely to be open at an earlier hour. They arrived by quarter
to four since the traffic was shitty, and Eren lingered outside the somewhat
foreboding little bar until his nerves were under control. It wasn’t a huge
place inside, just a small bar area with a dance floor making up the rest of
the room.
“Eren!” He smiled at Erwin, approaching from a back room, and replied with a
shy greeting.
“So, turns out there’s a few extra shifts tonight if you’re willing to start
right away? It’s $4 an hour plus tips, and the owner, Pixis, is more than
willing to believe you’re nineteen so you can get to work right away at the bar
no problems”
Eren grinned “No, that’s great, thanks”
Erwin nodded, “Alright perfect, I’m not actually working tonight, I just needed
to finish up some numbers for Pixis, but someone will be in soon who can show
you what to do and all that”
Eren took a seat by the bar as Erwin dived into the back room again to retrieve
his coat and say a brief goodbye, passing a small dark-haired man as he left.
The dark-haired man immediately fixed Eren with a steely glare.
“So,” his voice was surprisingly gravelly, dark and low and oddly seductive.
Eren swallowed and ignored that odd thought as the man continued to talk
“You’re the little brat I’ve got to teach what’s what around here”
Eren was taken aback by the insult after all of Erwin’s cordial politeness,
“Eren.” he shot back “Eren, not brat”
“Whatever, shitty brat. The name’s Levi, come back here and I’ll get showing
you the ropes.”
Eren spent the next two hours in a permanent state of embarrassment, he was
clumsy in comparison to Levi with his dainty but deft hands. His constant
criticism didn't help either.
“Be careful with that, fucking idiot”
“Gently, numbnuts”
“Don’t pour it like that you shitting ox”
“For fuck’s sake don’t drop it”
Eren just grit his teeth and thought about the $28 dollars he would be making
from this.
“Watch out, you stumbling idiot”
“Say ‘backs’ when you’re walking behind me, don’t just stare at my ass and
stutter”
That threw Eren off even further. Levi was very distracting, all sheer hips,
tight jeans and disparaging looks.
“Well look at that, you’ve spilt it now, shitty brat”
At that point Eren snapped “Would you stop calling me that! It’s Eren. E-R-E-N,
not fucking difficult to say.”
Levi instantly snapped around from arranging the glasses to glare at him “Shut
up, I call you what I like because I’m your fucking superior. Also I find it
insulting that Pixis can’t tell you’re only what, sixteen?”
“Seventeen soon” Eren muttered dejectedly
“Yeah, whatever. You’re younger than me and my inferior so get back to work.”
To rub salt on the wound he smirked and added “shitty brat”
“I’m about a head taller than you! What are you, a fucking fourteen-year-old
midget?”
“I’m twenty-two you grumpy little fuck, now shut up. We’re opening in a
minute.”
Eren stewed in his bad mood for a few minutes, but then quickly the bar began
to fill up- the dancefloor too. Eren was having orders thrown at him left right
and centre, which were muffled considerably by the music which had began to
pump through the room. Madonna predominantly, Eren noticed, who Mikasa and
Armin loved. He even caught himself gently humming along during slower periods
of service. The stress of the job quickly detracted from his pissy mood at
Levi, and he found himself being glad for his somewhat cut-throat crash-course
in bartending, only needing Levi’s help when a particularly exotic mix was
requested. Seven hours later Eren was run off his feet, head pounding and eyes
draining of all moisture.
Levi locked up, waving goodbye to the bouncers and heading out the back door,
lighting a cigarette as he did. Eren followed him unsure of what to do, and
realising he would have to walk the half-hour home, which would only worsen his
mood.
“Erwin and Petra are taking tomorrow’s shift, so you won’t be needed until
Friday” Levi said to Eren as he shrugged a leather jacket over his shoulders.
Not an embarrassing douchey one like Jean’s, but a stylish one that hugged his
curves and brought out his sallow skin tone to a glowing ivory in the dark.
“Right” mumbled Eren as he tried to light one of the cigarettes he had taken
from Mikasa’s pack earlier.
Levi unlocked his car and looked over to Eren, standing like a struggling lemon
before sighing.
“Get in brat, I’ll give you a lift home.”
***** Any Way You Want It *****
Chapter Notes
     Another update! I am having a huge amount of fun writing this, and I
     hope you guys are having just as much reading it :) any and all
     comments, kudos and bookmarks are amazing to receive, thank you so
     much y'all!
     Oh N.B., the chapters are titled after any songs or a song by an
     artist mentioned in the respective chapter, just as a means of
     explanation for the somewhat unusual names c:
EREN’S POV
Eren eyed Levi up warily. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the guy, it was just
he seemed liable to get pissed that Eren was inhaling the same air as him and
hack his head off with the pine air freshener which dangled from the front
mirror of his Honda Civic.
Eren considered the option of walking the half hour home, or potential death.
“Come on brat, I haven’t got all fucking night” Levi called from the drivers
seat, arching his head back and exhaling a plume of smoke.
Eren pursed his lips and walked around to clamber in the other side, finally
lighting his cigarette and taking a heady lungful from it.
“Tch, seatbelt on.” Levi griped, before gunning the engine and exiting the
parking lot.
“So whereabouts do you live?”
Eren shook himself from his reverie and recited his address as his mom had
taught him: “32 Maria Road, near-”
“Near Shiganshina park, yeah I know the place.” Levi cut him off before taking
another liberal drag from his cigarette, arching his neck again to exorcise the
cloying toxins from his lungs.
Eren couldn’t help but be a little hypnotised by the movement, Levi’s face
cutting a dramatic silhouette against the moonlight and streetlamps filtering
into the car. From this angle Eren could quietly admire his sheer cheekbones
and prominent adam’s apple, in a totally straight way that was.
“Take a goddamn picture would you? It’ll last longer” Levi snapped, but not
with his usual venom
“Oh, uh, my bad.” Eren distracted himself and did his best to mask the blush
rising on his cheeks by returning to his cigarette, gently ashing it into the
crystal tray mounted onto the top of the dashboard.
Levi flicked the radio on, a cassette beginning which clattered into the
opening chords a Journey song which Reiner and Bertl always dueted to on guitar
and bass (poorly).
Eren hummed along due to force of habit, even softly singing along to the
chorus
“Any way you want it-”
“-That’s the way you need it,” Eren was shocked by Levi finishing of the line
in a lilting baritone, and looked up at him with a quirked brow
“Yeah, I sing in the car shitty brat, just like every other functioning human
being in the universe with a radio.” he chided
“Alright I just wasn’t expecting, I mean you’re pretty uptight,” Eren fumbled
with his words, feeling more than a little guilty for reasons he didn’t quite
understand.
“Ah shut the fuck up, I’m not that uptight, I just don’t like dealing with
shitheads” Levi countered.
Eren felt his temper flare a little “What, and I’m a shithead?”
“That remains to be seen.”
The car smoothly pulled up outside 32 Maria Road, and Eren hopped out, thrown
off by Levi’s final comment.
“Well thanks for the lift, see you friday”
Levi only smirked in reply before pulling off and driving down the road
Eren wasn’t sure how to feel about that one little bit.
REINER’S POV
Reiner was an organised guy, always had been. Thursday morning he should have
woken up like he did every day, at 10:30, usually jerked off before showering,
then fixed himself breakfast and then went out for a jog. Reiner did not wake
up at 10:30, he woke up at 11:45. For anyone else this would be a fairly
average change to their routine, so you slept in, whoop-de-fucking-doo.
For Reiner this was sign there was something not quite right going on. He had
been feeling off-kilter since Tuesday night in the desert; maybe it was because
Bertl hadn’t come round like he usually did last night; normally they would
dick around and hang out together after Reiner’s dad headed out to do his
night-shift, but last night he was a no-show.
Probably because he was still vomiting from his run in with Hanji and Connie,
but it still bothered Reiner; he had seen Bertl drag himself over in the most
dire of states, and he didn’t think last night quite qualified as the fiasco
that they had both undergone at last year’s Spring Dance after letting Eren
talk them both into drinking the absinthe his sister had bought at a dodgy
store downtown that sold bongs and shisha and all manners of weird shit.
He decided that lying in bed musing was useless so went and took his shower,
still feeling like something was wrong in his gut. He grabbed some toast and
snatched up the phone, dialing the number of Bertolt’s house and waiting as it
rung.
Bertl picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” his voice was quavering as usual
“Yo Bert, it’s Reiner, what’s up dude?”
“Reiner! Hi man, sorry.. Sorry I couldn’t make it over last night, some pretty
major family stuff happened.”
“Yeah? Oh shit, d’you want to talk about it?”
“Um, yes that would be awesome actually..” He trailed off in his typical way
and Reiner waited for him to pick back up once he refocused on the conversation
“I would really like to get out of the house actually, d’you want to go to the
arcade or something, or the mall or-”
Reiner cut him off there because he knew Bertl would list every damn place they
hung out if he didn’t.
“Mall sounds perfect, I’ll ring around, see if anyone else is up for hanging
out”
“Cool! Awesome! Meet you at.. Midday? Two? Th-”
“Two is great Bert, see you then”
Reiner hung up, instantly feeling better. He had been vaguely paranoid that
Bertl no longer trusted him after never confiding in him about Mylius, but now
he felt back into the swing of things. He pulled out his shitty notebook of
phone numbers and rang around: Armin was game to meet them, as was Marco,
Mikasa said Eren wasn’t up yet but she was more than happy to come and hang
out, and Krista promised she’d be there too.
Reiner told all his friends to meet at the mall by the record store that Jean
was obsessed with at 2:30, because fuck it, he wanted at least a half hour of
quality time with his best friend.
Bertolt waved enthusiastically until Reiner noticed him in the mall parking
lot, having a cigarette in the afternoon sun. Reiner meandered over and tugged
him into a brief hug, which wasn’t their typical greeting but sod that, a day
was a long period of time for them to be apart. Reiner pulled back and lit his
cigarette off the end of Bertl’s- he wasn’t a frequent smoker, but it was
difficult to avoid picking up the habit when he spent so much time with
Bertolt.
“So, what’s shaking my man?”
Bertl giggled at his dated slang and replied “Something’s, well not happened
because that makes it sound like it was a coincidental thing, but it wasn’t I
caused it, and to be completely candid I-”
“Bert. Chill out, tell me how come you weren’t over last night” Reiner said,
poking him in the ribs.
“Alright well, I told my parents, which is to say my mother and father, no no
I’m not going to ramble again, I told them I’m, well, gay. Or at least that
I’ve had a boyfriend.”
Reiner drew a deep breath “That must of been scary, I’m proud of you buddy. And
for what it’s worth I’d never give a damn what you do with your dick.”
Bertl smiled at that, before sighing “That’s good to hear, my dad wasn’t quite
on the same page though to be honest.”
“Oh man Bertl..” Reiner breathed
Bertl flailed a skinny arm around in a ‘C’est La Vie’ gesture
“It’s cool. My mom doesn’t care or anything, it’s just a bit of a blow I guess”
Reiner refrained from making a joke about blowing in favour of preserving his
best friend’s feelings and checked his watch.
2:15, the others would be here soon.
“Ah well, are you coming to Jean’s tonight?”
Bertl nodded “Yeah of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.. Is everyone
else..?”
“Yep, and I said I’d meet them by that record shop near the food court so let’s
get a move on huh? You might even find that Beastie Boys album you wanted”
The lanky boy perked up at that and they started into the mall, chatting
amicably.
Twenty metres away from the store’s entrance, Bertl’s face fell and he tugged
at Reiner’s elbow in a way that he probably thought was subtle before nodding
towards the fountain. Reiner followed his gaze and gritted his teeth. Just as
well Jean was busy setting up his place for tonight and Eren was asleep. Along
the marble which bordered the fountain sat what could’ve been the entire Trost
High baseball team.
Traditionally it was always the football team that were assholes, but they were
all rich enough to live in Trost and hang out at the malls there so they
weren’t a huge bother. The baseball team were a rung down the ladder in
physical strength, but several notches above in how vicious they were to
rectify that. They called Reiner’s friends faggots because of how they dressed,
and Reiner’s friends called them assholes because of how they behaved.
True disaster would have struck if Jean was there, he was too controversial
looking and his jeans far too tight to warrant them not trying to rip the shit
out of him, and Eren was too headstrong not to go looking for a fight.
Armin was their other favourite target, however he was too smart to get caught
alone by them.
Reiner felt a sudden surge of protectiveness towards his friends, in particular
Bertolt. If they found out he was gay, shit would hit the fan like no one could
believe.
Reiner tried to steer his lanky companion into the store before the team
noticed them, but it was too little, too late.
“Aw look, it’s Muscles and Queer-olt!”
That comment was met with almost hysterical laughter, despite the fact it
wasn’t witty in the slightest. Reiner rolled his eyes and gave the gaggle of
teenagers a wry look.
“Shut up Hannes, don’t interrupt their first date!” shrieked a female voice,
which was met with even more laughter. Reiner had to admit that one was kind of
funny, but Bertl was close to hyperventilating beside him and he decided to nip
this in the bud.
“That’s hilarious guys, really. Now if you’ve finished with your little circle-
jerk over there, I have an album I want to buy.” He called over, before
retreating into the store with Bertl.
The girl at the counter gave them a sympathetic look as they traversed the
aisles looking for a record worthy of purchase, until another commotion
entirely began outside. Reiner cursed under his breath and moved towards the
exit, where he could see Krista looking nervous. Looking towards the fountain
he saw a sight he had become accustomed to. Marco, usually so shy, was
currently nose-to-nose with Hannes yelling at him, as Mikasa dangled Keith
Shadis backwards from his sitting position over the fountain with a face like
thunder.
Reiner sighed and waded in as usual. It was his unofficial role as peacekeeper
which kept the group from receiving more than the odd black eye and nasty look.
He tore Mikasa from Shadis, letting him plop into the fountain with a look of
comical surprise on his face and grabbed Marco by the armpits and dragged him
away mid-sentence.
“CALL HIM A FAG AGAIN AND I’LL FUCKING-”
Reiner dragged Marco around to face him and gave him a stern look which cut him
off and caused his blush to deepen, this time not from adrenaline but shame.
“He threatened my little brother Reiner, that’s out of order.” Mikasa ranted,
soothed only by Krista muttering some kind words and patting her shoulder
gently.
Reiner shook his head and led his little troupe of fucking idiots away,
planning to kill some time in the arcade before picking up drinks and pot for
Jean’s later.
JEAN’S POV
Jean loved a lot of things, he loved laughing, and dancing, and drinking, but
more than anything he loved hosting these things. His parents would be absent
until the following Saturday noon, and he had Sasha-proofed the kitchen,
Connie-and-Eren-proofed his bedroom, and removed the gaudy low hanging
lampshade in the basement for Bertolt’s benefit.
The first stream of people arrived at seven: Reiner, Bertl, Mikasa, Marco,
Armin, Krista and that freckled girl who she was cosying up whose name turned
out to be Ymir, all entered in high spirits before settling themselves in the
lounge, cracking open beers and talking about their day at the mall.
Jean sidled onto a loveseat next to Marco and shot him a grin,
“So, good day?”
“Yeah..” Marco blushed a little, accentuating his freckles “I yelled at Hannes
though, you know from the baseball team?”
“No way” Jean replied, shaking the thoughts about Marco’s freckles and how cute
they are, it was weird. “What, big blonde Hannes?”
“Yep” chirped Krista “You should’ve seen it Jean, he was so brave!”
Marco flushed even more at the praise, his shy little smile making Jean’s heart
swell a little, and not in the agonizing seizure kind of way.
The doorbell rang and Jean answered it, letting in another slew of people.
Connie and Sasha seemed full of beans as usual, Eren seemed a little distracted
and Annie was aloof as always. The party quickly dispersed into kids drinking
on the backyard deck, others dancing in lounge and the remainder getting stoned
in the basement.
Jean opted to head to the basement tonight, hot on Connie, Sasha and Annie’s
heels. Marco joined him, more out of loyalty than desire to smoke, but he
started to get into the groove of things pretty quickly after the second joint
was being passed around
“Nah, nah I’m just saying,” Connie paused mid-sentence to puff and pass “If you
HAD TO make love to bagel filled with shit, would you?”
Jean cracked up at this, but Marco thought pensively before asking “Would this
have any long-term effects on my health?"
“Emotionally and psychologically yes, probably” Annie chipped in, before
passing the joint to a slowly vegetating Sasha.
The night continued on like this, until Connie and Sasha popped some uppers and
went upstairs to dance, and Ymir and Krista replaced them, wrapped in each
others arms and clearly tripping on something intense. Annie smoked quietly,
before heading upstairs to see what Mikasa was doing.
Jean figured if he wasn’t down here he’d be on the deck, teasing Eren and
hitting on Mikasa, but instead he decided that slumping his head into Marco’s
lap was a much more appealing option, and wriggled a little before glancing up.
Marco’s eyes were more than a little glazed as he glanced downwards and smiled
down at Jean, before starting to gently card his hand through his hair, as Jean
had done to him that night in the desert. Jean lolled his head backwards into
the touch, smiling tenderly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt
this peaceful and at one with himself, like everything had fallen into place
and he was perfectly calm; he wanted to lie here for hours.
It did occur to him that his head was in his best friend’s crotch and that
these benevolent caresses Marco was pushing through his hair weren’t exactly a
‘no homo’ level of intimacy, but at that moment in time, Jean just could not
find it in his heart to give a damn.
***** Start Me Up *****
Chapter Notes
     A special Marco POV to celebrate me writing 10,000 words in my first
     fic so far! Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy it c:
MARCO’S POV
Marco was awoken by the opening riff of Jean’s favourite song. He opened his
eyes blearily and absorbed his surroundings: the familiarity of Jean’s room was
comforting, until he realised he was currently nestled in Jean’s bed. This
wasn’t his typical sleeping place in the Kirstein house, normally he rested on
the spare mattress which could be pulled out from underneath the oak frame of
Jean’s bed, however the warmth on the left side of him was an instant giveaway
that they had slept together. Not together, Marco chided himself, just in the
same bed. Very close together if the fading patch of warmth was anything to go
by.
He glanced upwards, Jean was fixing his hair in the mirror, facing away from
Marco.
He was wearing those leather pants that he had fallen in love with despite the
oppressive summer heat, they clung to his ass in a way that made Marco feel
more than a little breathless and his torso bore no shirt to speak of.
The song continued, a Rolling Stones number which Jean gently began to sway his
hips along to. Marco’s mouth immediately dried, which wasn’t helped by Jean’s
movements become a more deliberate swing along to the backbeat of the track
“Start me up, if you start me up I’ll never stop” Jean crooned along in his
sleep husky voice, his pelvis stirring in synchronization to the guitar’s
rhythm, hands trailing through his hair in a way that made every muscle flex
and ripple in his back.
Marco watched, utterly transfixed as Jean’s hips jerked to the beat in a smooth
seductive rhythm. He was becoming increasingly aware of the heat pooling in his
groin, but couldn’t bring himself to alert Jean of his wakefulness.
As the song reached it’s climax, Jean sang again “You make a grown man cry-y-y-
y, you make a grown man cry-y-y-y”, his voice throaty in a way that Marco could
only label as sexy, his pelvis gyrating in gentle circles and hips rising
transversely.
Marco now had to address the fact that he had a just over a semi from watching
his best friend fix his hair. Well, not just fix his hair, also move his body
in a devastatingly sexy way which made Marco want to either die or push Jean
forward and claim those hips for his own.
The track petered out, and Marco realised that staring at Jean with an obvious
erection was going to prove a problem. He snuggled back down into the sheets
and snorted in a derisive manner, causing Jean to spin around and blush.
“Hah, um, you saw that?”
“Only the last ten seconds” Marco replied dutifully “But it looked pretty funny
I’ll tell you that.”
He then curled into the foetal position, thinking of dead babies, his
kindergarten teacher naked, and anything else that could help kill his boner.
Jean squirmed, obviously a little embarrassed “Haha.. Well maybe the next time
I let you sleep in my bed you’ll show a little more appreciation”
Marco’s chest seized at that, appreciating wasn’t all he wanted to do to Jean.
“Hah, sure whatever. What’s the time?”
Jean cocked his head at the obvious change of topic before checking his watch,
“about half eleven, I think some of the others are crashed out downstairs.
Wanna go wake them?” He said that with a mischievous smirk.
“Yeah sure,” Marco said, still keeping the covers over his lap to disguise the
obvious tent in the boxers he had slept in. “Can you uh, pass my jeans?”
Jean pulled a shirt over his head before replying “Huh? You can’t seriously be
body-conscious with an ass like yours”
Marco’s head span all over again. Jean noticed his ass? Jean devoted enough
time to think about his ass to deem it nice?
“I mean,” Jean amended, noticing his blush “It doesn’t matter, I figure there
are at least four half-to-fully naked people in my house at the moment, so you
would be one of many”
Marco couldn’t help but notice how red his ears were when he turned away from
him to switch off his record player and head downstairs. He decided his dick
had calmed down to an adequate degree to slide out of bed, grateful to at least
still be wearing his t-shirt from the previous evening, before following Jean
and thinking about every possible thing besides how gorgeous, seductive and
shameless Jean had looked dancing along to the Rolling Stones.
 
CONNIE’S POV
Connie had been awake for ten minutes, but had neither the heart nor means to
move. He was lying on the floor of Jean’s lounge, across a rug which proved
less and less comfortable the longer he was roused from sleep.
The reason he didn’t simply get up and go for a nice session of wake and bake
was Sasha. She was lying with her head in the crook of his neck, gentle puffs
of air she exhaled gusting against his collarbone. His arm was splayed out
behind her, and his other wrapped around her supple waist, his legs entwined
with hers.
The only odd thing about this situation to Connie was that it didn’t feel odd.
Sure, he and Sasha wrestled and danced and poked and teased together, but
despite their long-stretching friendship they had never shared a moment as..
Intimate? Yeah, he thought, intimate was definitely the word for this.
Her hair smelled sweet and smoky as it tickled against his nose, Sasha mumbling
in her sleep and shifting so even more of her weight rested on Connie’s
abdomen, and he felt a rush of affection for his wonderful, retarded, and now
he looked closely, very pretty best friend.
Connie turned as he heard a pair of heavy footsteps tramp down the stairs and
Eren’s voice call out “Yo, you finally slid your dicks out of eachothers asses,
great. How do you use this fucking grill Jean?”
Connie sighed and buried his head in Sasha’s hair, not ready for the jarring
transition between the simple poignant moment he had just had and stopping Jean
wedging a frying pan in Eren’s solar plexus.
“Fuck you Jaeger!” He heard Jean’s voice and a commotion erupt from the
kitchen.
Sasha stirred then and mumbled “Connie? Wassappening?”
He patted her head soothingly “Nothing Sash, it’s just that all our friends are
retarded douchebags”
“Oh, so nothing then” She murmured, pushing her face back into his neck and
breathing deeply a few times before suddenly sitting up and stretching.
“C’mon Cons, a woman’s gotta eat!” She said chipperly before vanishing out of
the door.
Connie groaned a little before standing unsteadily and working the cricks out
of his back before following suit. The kitchen looked like a fucking warzone.
Connie had thought Jean and Eren had gone an unusually long amount of time
without trying to tear each other's heads off, and had put it down to new-found
maturity. He should have known better.
Marco gazed on at the chaos with a disapproving look on his face as Jean chased
Eren around the kitchen table, cutting him off at every turn and looking
determined to deck him with the saucepan he wielded, whilst Eren held him off,
dodging and mocking him with his superior agility and mop he had acquired.
Sasha was raiding the fridge and occasionally shouting them helpful advice like
‘Aim for his knees’ or ‘don’t just hold the pan, BE the pan’.
Connie groaned for what felt like the six millionth time over the last two
days, before setting to work, tackling Eren from behind and sitting on his head
until he promised to stop being such an angsty douchebag
“I promise to stop being such an angsty douchebag, fucking hell Connie get off
I think you’re gonna break my head open”
He got off, before taking the mauled saucepan from Jean and giving everyone
looks that let them know they should be very ashamed of themselves.
Jean did in fact get the grill working, and the rest of the houses’ occupants
drifted in as the scent of bacon wafted its way around. Ymir and Krista were
still apparently joined at the hip as they sat together eating and shooting
each other private little smiles. Connie ate with gusto, laughing about the
escapades of last night with Reiner and Armin, reflecting on the typical
escalation of ‘dares’. Mikasa and Annie had made out twice, to Eren’s horror,
who had subsequently had to streak down the road without a stitch on him. Armin
had swapped underwear with Sasha, and privately told Connie she still wasn’t
letting them switch back, which he howled with laughter at and immediately told
everyone within earshot.
EREN’S POV
Jean began ushering people out of his house by half-past twelve and considering
Mikasa had driven home early in the morning, Eren was stuck tramping home in
the blistering midday heat with a hangover which burned acidically in his
temples and stomach.
He probably shouldn’t have got so blitzed last night, but even after the most
part of a bottle of Jack Daniels and a naked jog down the street he still felt
his attention being dragged elsewhere. Elsewhere, to Levi.
Eren could not stop thinking about him. How he had blown off Eren’s thanks, and
his disgusting manners. Also his stunning profile and the curve of his hips
into his ass, but that was besides the point. Levi was a little shit.
He walked quick and got home by one o’clock, stepping into the shower and
scrubbing himself thoroughly, as if jasmine scented shower gel could remove the
cloying burn in his gut. Then he changed into what he had designated his ‘work
clothes’. A simple black button-up and dark jeans, plus a pair of army surplus
boots he had borrowed from Annie months ago and she had never reminded him to
return.
He tramped downstairs, checking the note that was left on the table. It read:
Eren, gone out for the night, drive yourself to work. Also, bought you some
tobacco. It’s on the side. Stop stealing mine you little bastard. - Love Mikasa
P.S. It cost me two dollars, you’re paying me back.
Eren picked up the pouch of tobacco, he didn’t mind roll ups, but he sincerely
doubted it had cost her more than a dollar. But oh well, what the hell. He
fixed himself up some lunch and coasted through the cartoons showing on TV
until four came around.
He felt shaky at the prospect of seeing Levi again, the short man eating away
at his mind constantly. He was an enigma: where did he live? What did he do for
fun? Was he straight?
Eren decided to leave it another half hour before heading off; he didn’t want
to look at all eager to see the man who had piqued his interest to such a
distracting degree.
He eventually began making his way to The Pirripin at quarter to five, smoking
a poorly-rolled cigarette out of the car window as he meandered his way
downtown. Eren parked in the spot two down from a familiar Honda Civic and
crushed out his cigarette before entering through the back door. Whatever
entrance he was hoping to make was immediately ruined as he walked straight
into Levi, who collided with him making a soft ‘uft’ sound in surprise
“Oi, watch where you’re going, shitty brat”
“Really, you aren’t done with that fucking nickname?”
“Never will be” He replied, shooting Eren a crooked smirk and popping the trunk
of his car to pull out some bottles of tequila. “The boss needed some inventory
done, turns out this is the only thing we’re low on.”
Eren nodded dumbly, avoiding watching how Levi’s AC/DC shirt had ridden up at
the back to expose his pale skin, the ridges of his spine and tightly muscled
abdomen were painfully obvious to him as he moved inside to shake his head and
work himself out of the funk he had been stewing in for the last few days.
“So, brat” Eren jumped as Levi’s voice materialised from just behind his ear
“Try not to fuck up tonight, hm?”
“I didn’t fuck up last night!” Eren snapped in return, “I did perfectly well
thank you very much, I only dropped a glass when I didn’t notice you standing
right in front of me, which is easy to do when your co-worker is the size of
most thirteen-year-old girls!”
“Trust me you little douche, you have more in common than I do with a thirteen-
year-old girl” Levi replied before moving past him to put the tequila bottles
in position.
Eren rose to the insult, as he had since the day he was born. “Oh yeah? Like
what, you littl-”
“Your virginity for starters.”
Eren spluttered, “I am not a virgin!”
“Sure you are,” Levi looked up at him through his dark fringe with mesmerising
pewter eyes “No one who’s had their cherry popped is that much of a little
bitch”
Eren turned around and began determinedly lathering the bar top with a sponge
and cleaning fluid, refusing to let Levi bait him any longer.
“Hmm, reckon you’re a bottom and all you know brat”
“Excuse me? Bottom? I’m not a faggot you know, fucking midget” Eren’s temper
was really getting the better of him now, he thought after spending the last
forty-eight hours thinking about Levi would make him less of an incorrigible
douche, but alas no. Now he was calling Eren a homo.
He was so absorbed in being annoyed that he didn’t even have time to gasp when
Levi seized him by the collar and slammed him backwards into the bar. Eren was
taken aback by the small man’s strength, and by the malevolence in his eyes
when he spat out “Well this fucking midget is, do you have a problem with that,
shitty little brat? Do you think I’m less of a person because of where I like
to put my cock? Huh?”
Eren swallowed and realized how what he said must have sounded to Levi, and
instantly felt ashamed. He wrapped his hands around Levi’s wrists which pinned
his chest back against the bar and stared straight into his eyes, putting every
ounce of feeling he could into his next words.
“No. I really, really don’t.” His voice cracked a little but he kept his eyes
trained on the slate abysses which composed Levi’s irises.
Levi’s grip slackened and he stared back, comprehending Eren’s words before
releasing him.
Their night continued with little communication, the Friday night crowd were
rowdy and demanding and every time Eren glanced over at Levi he was either
dealing with a customer or appeared deep in thought. It was a little unnerving,
but at least Eren didn’t have to deal with any distractions as he dealt with
the punters, faces and voices, songs and orders all blurring into a single
miasma of colour and noise. It was three in the morning before Levi locked up,
and Eren felt worse than he had on his first shift, groping for a cigarette
before realising he would have to sit down and roll one.
He leant against the wall which the back door was situated on and gently
creased the paper around and filter, pleased with his progress until the breeze
picked up and blew every last strand of tobacco out.
“Oh fuck you!” Eren hung his head in defeat, wanting nothing more than to
retreat home to his bed.
A chuckle came from further down the wall as Levi emerged from the back door,
watching his dispirited outburst. “There there brat. Here.” Levi handed him one
of his own cigarettes before leaning against the wall beside him and lighting
one of his own.
Eren didn’t have the energy to lash out at being called brat again, and instead
just smoked his cigarette and looked over to Levi, captivated all over again by
his regal features.
“Go home, get some sleep” Levi advised, hopping into his Honda before glancing
up.
“Oh, and are you busy tomorrow night?”
“N-no, why?” Eren replied, too fucking tired to see where this exchange was
going
“Neither am I. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
And with that he simply drove away, leaving Eren to put the pieces together in
his mind.
***** Alone *****
Chapter Notes
     Just a quick little chapter, only from Jean's POV because I have a
     gratuitous amount of shit I have to do.
     As ever, I hope you enjoy it! :)
JEAN’s POV
Jean had planned on spending his Saturday almost exclusively lazing around.
This plan didn’t deviate much when Marco came over, bringing snacks and a tape
he had made last night, which Jean thought was heartbreakingly sweet, in a
macho, no homo kind of way.
They sat in Jean’s room, not smoking or getting shitfaced which was a
refreshing change of pace for their gradually more and more nihilistic
lifestyle, just talking about movies they wanted to see and what they wanted to
do after high school. Jean himself had no fucking clue, but Marco had his heart
set on becoming an illustrator, or maybe just an author, which he admitted with
a blush which damn near stopped Jean’s heart.
He knew he needed to address his feelings for Marco at some point, when Jean
was drunk or stoned it was easy to brush off the blurring lines of friendship
to something else entirely as him being his typical over-friendly inebriated
self, but sitting here at 3 o’clock on a Saturday, stone cold sober it was
agonisingly obvious that everything he felt for his sweet, freckled little
friend ran a lot deeper than typical good friends.
Jean watched the quirk of his friend’s cupids bow lips and felt a tug in his
gut unlike anything he had ever endured before, it wasn’t pure want either. He
wanted to make Marco feel as giddy and happy as he made him feel, but he wasn’t
sure how. Any advance on his part could spoil everything, so he mentally
checked himself into a mode of ‘back off’ and let it be.
Outside a dusky lieu had settled, and Marco decided he wanted a walk in the
park. Jean was practically unable to deny him anything he wanted, so to the
park they walked, arms gently brushing each others as they walked in step. Jean
didn’t know how to feel about that either, but again tucked it into the box of
‘things he wasn’t going to think about’.
They wandered to the dilapidated swings and sat, Jean gently skidding his feet
along the grass to fill the silence which had woven its way in their company.
“So, I got asked on a date earlier” Marco said plainly. Jean’s gut whirled in a
way that he didn’t even know it could.
“Yeah?” He faked casual “By who?”
“Remember that girl you mentioned the other day? Mina? Yeah, she just called up
my house and said she thought we should get together sometime.”
Jean genuinely thought he was going to vomit. However that wouldn’t have fit
his persona of ‘casual’ at all, so he just focused on the sunset, watching the
beams of amber being vanquished by the horizon and smothered by the mauve sky
above. Just how he was going to fucking smother Mina. No it just wasn’t enough
that she had to get his virginity, now she had to drag Marco away from him too.
Make him suffer through her intolerable giggling and stupidity and-
“I don’t think I’m going to say yes”
Marco broke through his inner monologue and turned towards him, face only
illuminated by the fading sunlight. He looked so innocent and honest Jean
thought he might actually cry out to God why all of his stupid goddamn
creations couldn’t all be as meek and perfect as Marco.
“Oh? How come?” Jean fought the quaver that wanted to wheedle it’s way into his
voice.
“Well” Marco shifted uncomfortably “Don’t be weirded out but.. I don’t think I
like her. Or girls, in general”
It felt like the world had just spiralled out from beneath Jean’s feet. Marco,
gay? Not just something vague and cherishable, but something he could actually
tangibly have?
“So, you’re gay?” The quaver defeated him, making the word ‘gay’ come out in
something closer to soprano than speech.
“I, uh, guess so yeah.. There is a boy, that I like” Marco spoke slowly,
obviously choosing his words with the utmost of care “He doesn’t know though,
and he’s straight”
And the world spiralled a little further. Marco didn’t like Jean. Marco liked
some awful douchebag who was going to break his heart and embarrass him in
front of the baseball team, and Jean hated the faceless man, who was also
taller than him probably.
“Oh, well. I wish you two the best of luck” Jean cringed at how stilted his
words sounded even to himself.
“No Jean, you don’t get it” Marco pushed.
Jean fucking got it, alright, and he was fucking pissed about it. The blood
rushed to his head in the way it always did before he did something ridiculous
and potentially life-ruining.
“No, I do. I hope you and whatever his name is are really fucking happy
together”
And with that he was off, running towards that horizon, hoping that maybe the
embers of the dying sunlight would take pity on him and snatch him off the
earth to somewhere kinder where pretty boys with freckles didn’t ruin his life.
The wind almost snatched away the words that Marco screamed to him.
“HIS FUCKING NAME WAS JEAN, BUT NEVER FUCKING MIND.”
Jean slowed to a jog and stopped. He had never heard Marco’s voice so wrecked,
and his heart felt like a jackhammer lodged in his ribcage as he turned back to
the swings.
And Marco was gone.
He squinted, but there was no sign of him around the swings just over two
hundred metres away. Jean felt all the blood in his body freeze to the point it
just felt like molten flesh being pumped around his veins. He turned back to
the sun but all the light was gone, so he ran home, not letting any of the
regret or stupidity of his words catch up to him. He had left his front door
unlocked and he bolted up to his room, only half-hearing his parents’ calls of
concern.
Out of habit Jean hit play on his shitty cassette player and collapsed into his
desk chair, breathing hard. Marco’s tape was still in the machine, and the
final song on the B-side began.
It was ‘Alone’, that stupid fucking song by Heart for which Marco had always
had a soft spot. The chorus kicked in and Jean lashed his leg out, not even
caring when the chair toppled over and he landed in a heap, forearm across his
eyes and the lyrics of the song raking over him like nails
‘Til now I always got by on my own, I never really cared until I met you’
He choked back a sob, not just wallowing but drowning in how badly he had
fucked up.
The verse came in then and he began to cry earnestly.
‘You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight,
you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight’
Tears of frustration streamed down Jean’s face and he barked back a bitter
laugh at the irony. He had come so close to getting everything he had ever
wanted; Marco’s words still echoed in his head ‘Never fucking mind’. How could
he ‘never fucking mind’ when it came to him?
‘but the secret is still my own, and my love for you is still unknown, alone’
Jean lay there until the tape ran off into static.
***** Hold It, Now Hit It *****
Chapter Notes
     Finally, a longer chapter! Thank you for any and all support for this
     fic, I am absolutely overjoyed by every comment, kudos and hit :) As
     ever, I hope you enjoy it. <3
REINER’S POV
Saturday morning Reiner woke up at exactly 10:30 and knew everything was re-
aligned in his universe. He couldn’t be bothered with having a wank, so he
hopped straight into the shower and sighed in relief as the scalding water un-
knotted the tense cluster of muscles in his shoulders.
He couldn’t help but think life was pretty sweet at the moment, college wasn’t
for another year, he had some cool friends and he had made things up with
Bertolt, even though he wasn’t sure what had been amiss in the first place.
Reiner went for his regular jog, twice around the block then to the park and
back, before making himself a killer breakfast of peanut butter and bagels.
Out of habit he called Bertl to ask what he was doing today.
“Yo Bertl Turtle!”
He could practically feel Bertolt’s narrowed eyes down the phone. Turns out
Bertl wasn’t a great fan of turtles, but Reiner had to suffer the ‘Rudolf the
red-nosed Reiner-deer’ pun six months a year so he would have to suck up and
deal with it.
“Hey Rein, what’s up?”
“Not much, just wondering what you’re doing today?”
“Hmmm I called Marco but he’s going over to Jean’s for the day-”
“Oo-er” Reiner cut in
“-and I don’t really feel like the mall again after, y’know-”
“Yep I know Bertie. Do you want to just go hang out at Annie’s?”
Bertolt paused, mulling over the plan.
“Yeah sure why not.. What’s with the oo-er comment?”
Reiner rolled his eyes at nothing in particular.
“My dearest little turtle, you may have slipped under my gaydar but not even a
blind man could miss how much those two moon over each other”
“You think so?”
“A blind man with sensory deprivation. And a blind seeing-eye dog.”
“I don’t think it would be responsible to give a blind sense deprived man a
blind dog-”
At that point Reiner just hung up because there was only so much dork he could
deal with at this time in the morning.
By midday he was walking to Annie’s, who lived just around the corner from him
and equidistantly from Bertolt’s. They knew this because one time Connie and
Sasha had one of their patented ‘I’m really fucking stoned let’s do science’
moments and decided to tie one end of string to Reiner and one to Bertolt and
see what happened.
They both made it as far as their front doors before they realised they were on
a leash, but hey the more you know right.
Reiner didn’t even bother knocking and just wandered into the Leonhart
household, finding Annie and Bertl sitting on the couch and an eccentric-
looking woman in glasses was gesticulating so hard with her arms Bertl actually
looked kind of worried they would spontaneously dislocate.
“And that is how biometrics will change the world!”
In a grand finale the woman threw her arms out, catching Reiner with a glancing
blow to the stomach as he entered the room.
“Hey Reiner” Annie said warmly (well as warmly as Annie did anything), and
Bertl just looked relieved to have someone relatively sane in the room with
him.
“Hi! My name’s Hanji!” The ludicrously enthusiastic woman offered her hand in
greeting, and Reiner shook it, smiling as placatingly as he could in hope she
wouldn’t hit him again. Reiner was a big guy and all, but that swing had some
weight behind it and he didn’t enjoy being in more pain than necessary.
“I’m Reiner, as you probably heard”
“Yes, yes.. I think we met a few nights ago actually, at the bonfire? You were
the guy who wouldn’t stop calling Erwin ‘Mr Eyebrows’ right?”
Reiner groaned into his hands “I don’t even remember saying that out loud!”
Bertl giggled “You did better than Armin, they got talking and Erwin said he
was gonna join the military. He had called him ‘Captain Handsome’ four times
before Krista told him it wasn’t his internal voice he was using”
Reiner guffawed at that, before taking a second to think. Was Armin straight?
Ever since his best friend had came out with no prior warning, he had started
analysing all the other people he thought of as heterosexual.
Marco and Jean were an obvious no- friends didn’t hang on each other’s every
word like that, and Reiner had personally witnessed them cuddling in the
basement when they thought Ymir and Krista were passed out.
Connie was straight in his mind, as was everyone else, but he had never seen
Armin as much as kiss a girl. Nor Eren actually, but he hotly maintained that
he had fooled around with people at parties, which in Reiner’s mind sounded
suspiciously like bullshit.
He disconnected these thoughts and tried to hone back in on the conversation at
hand.
“Yeah, I’m an old friend of the owner, plus the bar staff and even one of the
bouncers: I figure I can get all you guys in. It’s a pretty sweet joint I’ll be
honest, no watered-down beer, good music, and Bertie will love it because
almost everyone who walks through those doors bats for the other team” Hanji
concluded, shooting a grin at Bertl who turned so pink Reiner thought his head
might explode.
“Where is this place?” Reiner asked, trying to make sense of the words he was
hearing.
“The Pirripin? Downtown? It’s a nice little place, now and then some shitheads
turn up and try and start some bible-bashing lynch mob, but that gets dealt
with with no brutality spared” Hanji smiled a little wistfully “One time one of
the bar staff, and I shit you not this guy is like five foot nothing, kicked a
man square in the head. He literally jumped three foot in the air, I have never
seen a thing so majestic since.”
Bertl looked a little comforted at the thought of high-jumping ninja midgets
defending his honour and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like to go a place like
that.”
Annie corroborated “Same here, I figure Mikasa and Armin will too, plus Baldy,
Hungry, Angry and the two who eye-fuck all the time”
“Jean and Marco?” Reiner asked
“Yep”
“Thank you!” He leaned over Bertl and high-fived her “I knew it wasn’t just
seeing things, say Bertl can you hear something ringing?”
Bertolt looked confused “No?”
“Well you should because I fucking called it!”
Hanji cracked up at that, whilst Annie and Bertl just sighed and wondered why
they had ever thought Reiner was cool.
“So it’s decided” Hanji rubbed her hands together “I’m sneaking all of you
little vagabonds in, and don’t any of you go backing out now!”
The bespectacled oddity that was Hanji then promptly left, the skidding of her
scooter audible through in the house.
“I think tomorrow is gonna be cool” Annie mused gently, lighting a cigarette
and disappearing off to make a cup of tea.
EREN’S POV
By three-thirty, Eren decided he needed to get out of the house. He had been up
since nine, agonising over what to wear to see Levi tonight; was it a date?
Should he dress smart? Should he do the opposite to exude an aura of ‘wow like
I give a damn’ to impress Levi? Eren was absolutely fucking stumped.
He walked to Armin’s, Armin always knew what to do. He knocked his typical four
times and waited.
“Hey Eren!” Armin opened the door, smiling broadly “What’s up?”
Eren shrugged, “Kind of need some advice on.. A thing”
“Oooooh a thing? Come on up buddy.”
They scaled the narrow stairs, Armin’s house was even smaller than the Jaeger’s
place, but it originally only housed his grandfather so the lack of space was
to be expected. Armin’s parents had died in a plane crash en route home from
Asia, he had only been two years old at the time, and always said ‘he couldn’t
exactly miss what he never had’. That made Eren sad, because despite his
mother’s tragic death, his dad was at least still around. Not around-around,
but alive.
Armin had been raised solely by his grandpa since, who was a kind but doddery
old man. His room was always way tidier than Eren’s, and they sat on the bed
together, Armin looking inquisitively at him.
“So? What’s the thing?”
“Well..” Eren immediately felt nervous and decided to tell the story right from
the beginning. “Well you know I started working at that bar, right?” Armin gave
an affirmative nod. “There’s this guy I work with. He’s kind of an ass, but I
think deep down he’s pretty nice really. Like he gave me a ride home and stuff
when I was stuck, and gave me a cigarette when it was too windy for me to roll
one-” Armin gave him the look that said ‘you’re rambling something intense here
Eren’ and he cut to the point.
“So last night basically, he asked if I was busy tonight and I said no and he
goes ‘me neither, I’ll pick you up at eight’. He’ll pick me up at eight, but
for what? Is it like a date, or are we hanging out, or-”
“Eren.” He stopped babbling at Armin’s interjection. “Do you.. Like this guy?”
he asked with a grin.
“I..” Eren thought back to the two previous times he had met Levi. He was rude,
blunt and sometimes aggressive. But he was also kind, and funny when he wanted
to be, and attractive. So attractive it made Eren’s throat tighten.
“I do, yeah. I don’t know if he likes me though, he’s what, five years older
than me and insanely hot-” Eren backpedalled “-pretend I didn’t just say
insanely hot. This is weird though, I seriously did think I was straight but I
just hadn’t found the right girl for me yet.”
Armin had the fucking nerve to giggle. “Eren you do like him! It’s sweet,
seeing you blush like a goddamn freshman over this guy. I think even if tonight
isn’t a date, you should take the initiative and damn well make it one.”
Eren’s frayed nerves felt salved by his words, and thanked every deity he could
think of that his best friend was the most level-headed person in the universe.
He headed home at five, deciding not to eat, if on the off-chance Levi was
hoping to sweep him off somewhere for dinner.
He decided on a nice middle ground between classy and casual, wearing some
nice-ish jeans, a clean t-shirt under a crisp green over-shirt, he burned the
crap out of his hand with the iron in the process of making it crisp, and a
pair of sneakers which weren’t covered in shit or smelled just a teensy bit
like vomit.
Eren decided to be daring and borrowed Mikasa’s bomber jacket before settling
on the couch, putting active thought into not fixing his hair. He had to try
and be a little stand-offish at least when it came to Levi.
By seven-thirty he was almost vibrating out of his skin with excitement and
anxiety. Seven-forty-five took a genuine eternity to roll around, despite
Eren’s attempts at distracting himself with a re-run of Dallas.
At five to eight, the growl of an engine sounded from outside and Eren all but
leapt from the couch to answer the knock at the door. He opened it, smiling at
Levi who was on the other side.
Levi looked close to breath-taking as always. His jeans looked sprayed on as
usual and he had donned his leather jacket over a button-up, almost as if he
psychically knew how much Eren liked the look of him in it.
“Evening brat”
“Hello to you too, asshole” Eren replied with a smile.
Levi looked close to taken-aback by Eren’s sass and smirked in return. “Looks
like kitty does have some claws after all. Come on, it’s a saturday night and
Alien is playing down at the drive-in back-to-back with The Exorcist. Figure
you can handle it?”
Privately deep down Eren really really fucking hated horror films. They made
his skin crawl and his heart beat out an awful anxious rhythm throughout, he
only ever really watched them when Jean goaded him into it, calling him a pussy
and asking him if he was going to piss himself. The great irony of course was
that at every jump-scare, Jean would squeal and try not to outwardly look like
he was trying to bury his head into Marco’s neck. He wasn’t very good at it.
But Eren was determined not to appear childish in front of Levi and grinned
with hoped he looked like confidence “Of course!”
Levi smirked all over again and opened the door of his Honda to let Eren climb
in before moving around the bonnet to take his own seat. It was surprisingly
gentlemanly for a guy who had the manners of a spastic labrador.
“So,” Eren began, “Good day?”
“Hm, fine. Pretty boring. Mostly just got annoying calls from Hanji about a
bunch of her annoying new friends coming to the bar tomorrow night, and then
spent a while dismantling my phone so she physically had to stop calling.”
It was deadpan but Eren had to giggle a little. He could remember Hanji from
the other night, vaguely. “Is Hanji the one with the glasses and the um,
excitable nature?”
“She’s a specky git with ADHD, yes.”
“Ah, yeah I met her a couple nights ago. Where I met Erwin actually and he set
me up working at The Pirripin.”
“I know, I heard. Hanji’s been calling him either ‘Mr Eyebrows’ or ‘Captain
Handsome’ ever since. She finds your friends fucking hilarious.”
Eren smiled a little at that, if their friends got along, there was no reason
why he couldn’t invite Levi out places right?
They pulled into the lot at that point, the first film already beginning. Levi
had been prepared and brought along a blanket to spread across the hood of his
car so they could recline with more ease.
“Put your head or elbow through my windshield and I’ll fucking kill you kid”
Levi warned, as they sat back to watch Alien.
Eren narrowed his eyes in objection to being called ‘kid’. He was a goddamn
grown up, or at least he was mostly. Still, it was better than ‘brat’ and
definitely better than ‘shitty brat’.
Eren couldn’t help but jump like a little bitch at every shocking moment,
feeling embarrassed as Levi sat still as a statue, occasionally leaning across
to make comments in his ear about the special effects.
The 117 minutes of gruesome space death passed quickly, Eren actually getting
into the groove of the film after a while and accidentally-on-purpose wriggling
closer to Levi. There was a ten minute break between films, so they wandered
over to the refreshments counter to grab a drink and some snacks.
“I’ll have a pepsi and a small popcorn please” Eren ordered, smiling at the
teenager behind the counter who looked agonisingly bored.
“That’ll be three dollars twenty.” He deadpanned in reply.
Eren went to pull out his wallet but Levi caught his arm and shook his head,
paying the money plus a tip.
“You didn’t need to do that, I-”
“My treat Eren.” Levi cut him off, and his head almost caved in at hearing Levi
use his name.
“Levi-” he started, then hesitated, suddenly feeling very small and naive. “Is
this.. A date?”
Levi cocked his head and smiled at him. Not a smirk, or a smug shit-eating
smile like Eren was used to but a genuine one. A small, soft little flicker of
emotion across a usually slate-blank face. Eren felt his heart go into triple
time, trying to memorise the exact curve of Levi’s lips. He then turned around,
completely ruining the moment and hopped back on the bonnet. He scooted over
and Eren clambered up too, much less elegantly.
The movie began and somewhere between the opening credits and the fucking
scary-ass little kid killing a priest, Levi’s arm had ended up slung over
Eren’s shoulder totally rectifying the moment as his fingertips gently brushed
Eren’s inner forearm in a repetitive pattern.
Eren leant his head into Levi’s, feeling oddly at ease as he watched the other
priest chuck himself out of a window. The film wound up okay and Levi stretched
his back, before disembarking from the car’s bonnet.
He looked at Eren as he joined him in the car on shotgun “I’ll drop you home.
Something tells me tomorrow is going to be exhausting.” His tone was as bland
as always but his eyes glinted with something like affection.
The drive home was quiet, both of the smoking out their respective windows and
thinking to themselves. Levi pulled up and walked him to the door.
“Well I guess I’ll see you at work br- Eren.” Levi looked at him once more and
Eren realised that if he didn’t tilt his head downwards and kiss him, he would
regret it for the rest of his life and potentially even future reincarnations
of Eren would resent him for it.
So he did, his mouth gently brushing against Levi’s and for a moment he
physically ached. He was so close and intimate and then Levi kissed him back
and the entire world went fuzzy around the edges. The kissed chastely for a few
more seconds, before Levi leant backwards and gave him another smile which Eren
suspected could end wars when utilized correctly.
Then he lent in once more for another kiss and then out of nowhere bit the fuck
down on Eren’s lip.
He exclaimed in pain and brought a fingertip up to his lower lip, seeing
crimson blood as he pulled away, “What the-”
Eren's protests were cut off by another kiss from the smaller man who then
chuckled in a way that make shivers run down his spine and sauntered back to
his car, shooting him a wink before he drove away.
Eren was literally rooted to the fucking spot. Well, alrighty thenhe thought to
himself.
***** Call Me *****
Chapter Notes
     Apologies for the somewhat delayed update, but hey, look at all these
     big-ass chapters.
     This one is just from Connie's POV because he's a rad little dude who
     never gets enough love in my mind..
     As always, feedback is appreciated and I hope you enjoy it! c:
CONNIE’S POV
Connie absentmindedly hummed along to the radio as he made himself some
popcorn, deciding that it was an adequate substitute for breakfast/lunch. He
had slept clean through the breakfast hours of the day, and decided that
popcorn was the most nutritious thing in the house to be eating at two in the
afternoon.
He lived with his elder brother Leo in a fairly run-down bungalow in the
outskirts of downtown Stohess, and neither of them were big on groceries. Their
parents had moved up the country last year, Connie had been offered the option
to live with his brother and jumped at the chance.
Leo was twenty-two now, and had a steady job in Trost dealing with a chain of
mechanical workshops; Sure, Connie missed his mom and dad occasionally, but he
really did love the benefits of living essentially as he pleased.
Leo was currently at his girlfriends’ place in Trost, so Connie had the house
to himself as he sashayed around in his boxers to Starship.
He was enjoying his freedom so much the phone almost rang off before he had a
chance to pick up.
“Yo, Springer residence!”
“Hey, it’s Annie.”
“Oh, h-hey Annie, how’s it going?”
Connie liked Annie, he really did, but that girl was crazy intimidating and
constantly insisted she was taller than him, which was obviously a load of
horseshit.
“Not much, wanna come downtown tonight? Hanji, you remember her right?”
He internally groaned. Crazy shots lady had been a hella lot of fun at the
time, but Connie doubted even a liver as resilient as his could stand another
night of drinking at her pace.
“Uh, yeah, from the other night out in the Sonoran right?”
“That’s the one. So yeah she reckons she can get us into a relatively cool bar
seeing as she claims to know pretty much everyone who works there. Fancy
coming?”
“Hmm, yeah that sounds pretty sweet actually, who else is coming?”
“Bertolt and Reiner have said yes, and I decided to delegate the job of ringing
everyone else to you. Come by mine at seven and we can all carpool down.”
She rather curtly disconnected at that and Connie rolled his eyes before
dialling Sasha’s number first, seeing as it was the only one he knew off by
heart.
“Hello?”
“Hey Sash”
“Yo Cons! What’s up man? But make it quick because I don’t want my toast to
burn”
Connie giggled a little at that, typical fucking Sasha.
“Alright alright your highness, wanna come downtown tonight? That nutty chick
with the glasses who made me do all those shots is offering to get us in
somewhere cool”
“She didn’t make you, you challenged her!”
“She made me do it by accepting the challenge, it’s all relative Sash.”
“Hmmm whatever, but sure I’d love to come!”
Her sunny disposition was radiant even down a phone’s receiver, Connie had
never known anyone who could make him feel good about anything and everything
like she did just by being herself.
“Rad, come by Annie’s for seven, we’re all heading down then.. Mind calling a
few other people and letting them know after your toast is done?”
“Of course, I’ve got Armin, Krista and Marco’s numbers right here-”
She was cut off mid-stream by a gasp
“Toast is done, bitch! I’ve gotta go, see you later!”
Connie chuckled again at that and mentally figured out that he would have to
only have to call Jean and the Jaegers now, which was ideal because his brother
would fucking murder him if he racked up an enormous phone bill.
He rifled around the cabinet draws until he found the ragged scraps of paper
with his friends numbers written on them. He found Eren’s before Jean’s, so he
quickly punched in the numbers and hoped they weren’t so badly smudged by wear
and tear that he would end up inviting some poor old lady to a bar with him.
“Hello, who is this please?”
He let out a silent cheer when Mikasa’s voice sounded down the line.
“Que pasa Mi-casa?”
“Dammit Connie.”
“Haha, but seriously we’re all going downtown tonight, do you and Eren want to
come?”
“Wait is this the Hanji-arranged outing?”
Connie gave an affirmative ‘uh huh’.
“Oh, well yeah sure, Annie already asked me about it. We’re going to the bar
where Eren works now, so he’ll be there but on the clock.”
“Wow, that’s a bummer.. But ah well, so I guess you know to be at Annie’s for
seven?”
“Yep, see you then”
“Adios Mi-”
She hung up on him at that point. What was with his female friends and doing
that?
Finally Connie rang Jean after a long deliberation over whether the last digit
he had penned down for his number was a seven, one, or smeared chunk of garlic
bread.
He decided it was a seven, and a pleasant female voice answered on the third
ring.
“Hello, Kirstein household?”
“Hi, is Jean there?”
“Yes he’s in his room, I’ll fetch him now.”
There was a brief few seconds of scuffling before Jean’s voice was audible.
“Marco?”
“Um, that’s a no dude.”
Connie could practically hear the deflation in Jean’s voice.
“Oh, hey Connie. What do you want?
“Wow nice to talk to you too Horseface. I was just calling to ask if you were
interested in hanging out tonight? Downtooooown?
He stretched to ‘o’ teasingly, he knew Jean loved bars and clubs and
practically anywhere he could drink, dance and feel like an adult.
“Uh, no sorry man. I’m just really not in the mood right now. I have to go,
bye.”
Apparently it was not just Connie’s female friends who were rude as fuck on the
phone. He returned the phone to its holster and mused as he crunched down the
popcorn.
Jean had sounded pretty sad on the phone. Not even sad actually, just defeated,
which was odd because Connie had seen Jean sad before plenty of times; but he
was a passionate kind of sad person, dramatic and grief-stricken, not hollow
and drained.
It played on his mind as he ate before he shrugged off the thoughts, vowing to
visit Jean tomorrow and pull him out of this funk, by his own volition or not.
Connie could be a force to be reckoned with when it came to cheering people up,
once going as far as mooning an entire science class plus teacher just to make
Eren stop sulking about a cussing-match with Jean he had lost.
After a quick shower he killed time reading some Teen Titans comics that he had
convinced Bertolt into lending him. By half-six Connie was going a little stir-
crazy and decided to take a meandering route down to Annie’s, which he grossly
underestimated and ended up getting there fifteen minutes late. He gently
booted the front door and entered, knowing his way around the place well enough
to be confident the door wouldn’t be locked.
He strolled into the living room, grinning at Sasha who sat smooshed on the
couch between Reiner and Bertl, breaking off their animated conversation to
beckon him over. Connie slumped across all three of them, not really listening
to their conversation about Dungeons & Dragons.
Annie sauntered in with Hanji mere moments before Connie disintegrated from the
sheer nerdiness he was being exposed to on this sofa, and was grateful from the
distraction as the conversation above him became Bertl vivaciously protesting
that Gwen Stacy wasn't going to return to Spider-Man comics, Reiner countering
that now her clone was around there was no telling what would happen, and Sasha
firmly saying that she was ‘Team MJ all the way’.
“Hey losers, c’mon we’re driving downtown.” Annie stated flatly, which gave
everyone the incentive to squirm off their respective couches and pile once
more into Bertl’s truck.
Because Reiner had the average shoulder-width of two teenagers he automatically
earned shotgun, so the rest of the gang had to crowd in the back. Mikasa, Annie
and Hanji took up one side and Krista, Armin and Marco the other.
Connie and Sasha were automatically delegated ‘floor position’, at Bertolt and
Reiner (but mostly Reiner’s) insistence that they should suffer for their
crimes against the truck after they chalked it up on the final day of the
summer semester with lurid drawings of dicks and several not-very-nice
allusions towards Hannes and the baseball team.
They were all accurate in Connie’s mind, but apparently it still counted as
disrespecting the truck so on the floor of the trailer he sat, with Sasha’s
back against his chest and body between his splayed legs. The vehicle clattered
and swayed as they set off, conversation light and easy until Armin glanced
around and asked “Hey, where’s Jean?”
Annie stared down at Connie. “I thought I asked you to ring everyone?”
“Hold up, I did! Jean said he didn’t feel like coming out tonight” he answered
primly, very much enjoying Annie having no reason to pull a bitch-face at him.
Armin cocked his head thoughtfully “That doesn’t sound like Jean at all.. Do
you think he’s sick?”
Connie shrugged, “He sounded a little off on the phone, so yeah maybe.” and
left it at that.
The topic drifted to something else and Connie enjoyed some moments of
tranquility on the floor of the trailer, his arms had unconsciously migrated
themselves to being wrapped around Sasha’s waist and she was leaning back into
him so his chin fit perfectly over her shoulder.
He noticed that today her hair smelt like cinnamon, before Marco gently tapped
him on the shoulder.
“Hey, Connie.. Um, you know Jean said he didn’t want to come tonight? Was.. Was
I mentioned at all in that?”
He thought for a moment “Yeah, why?” Jean had exclaimed Marco’s name when he
picked up the phone like it he was choking to death on it, Connie didn’t see
any reason to omit that.
“Oh. No reason.” Marco then turned to look out the front of the trailer, beyond
the cab and into the oncoming road. He had also turned an uncanny shade of
green, and his hands were trembling ever so slightly.
Connie noticed this but didn’t pay it much mind, he figured it was probably
some weird misunderstanding about tonights plans or something, whatever. They
would sort it out fast enough, seeing one without the other had become jarring
ever since they had become friends and then apparently siamese twins.
The journey continued, he and Sasha striking up a rapport with Armin about
saving up getting one of those Atari consoles which everyone was getting crazy-
excited about at the moment.
By quarter to eight they had arrived outside a decent sized place named ‘The
Pirripin’ from what Connie could decipher of the lurid neon sign outside. They
parked and Connie swiftly spotted the Jaeger’s Starlet only a few spaces over.
“Oh shit, this is where Eren works?” Sasha asked, head cocked to the side
endearingly
“Yep,” Hanji replied as she hopped off the trailer. “Allons-y kids, stick with
me here. Buddy up if necessary!”
Eyes were rolled but everyone followed Hanji as they traipsed round to the
entrance. Hanji exchanged a cheerful greeting and some quiet words with the
only bouncer on the door who smiled and waved them all in without so much as a
request for their birth date.
Inside was loud and boisterous in both music and patrons. Connie quickly wove
his way to the bar and ordered two rum and cokes. Unfortunately it wasn’t Eren
though, rather some guy who Connie suspected was even shorter than him. Short-
stop sent him a quirk of the eyebrow but didn’t ask for ID, sliding the glasses
across the spotless bar top and wishing him a good night.
Krista immediately found her way to Ymir and sat with her at the bar, both
giggling and sharing yet more of their secret smiles. Actually, if Connie
craned his neck he was pretty sure their hands were entwined. He felt warmed in
his heart by their easy affection, he was categorically unphased by pretty much
all sexualities- all he gave a shit about was his friends being happy.
He wandered over to the dance floor, where he and Sasha elegantly necked their
drinks and she went to fetch some more. Connie observed Armin chatting with
Erwin, both nursing what look like mojitos, as Mikasa, Annie, Hanji and to his
surprise, Marco slammed down shots.
After almost an hour and almost four drinks, Connie felt a little heady and
hella ready to dance.
He knew it was a sign when Blondie came on; Sasha had four great loves and they
were food, pot, his company and Blondie.
According to her the time they had gotten stoned in his bedroom, ate more pizza
than previously thought possible by mankind and danced like massive fucking
losers to the album Parallel Lines was the best of her life, and the look of
wonder in her eyes as she said so seemed pretty genuine.
Connie grabbed Sasha by the hand and dragged her to the floor, aware of Reiner
and Bertl dancing worse than his fucking dad to his left and Hanji trying to
get Armin to waltz with her to the right, despite the song being totally
inappropriate and them both being fairly wasted by this point.
‘..You can call me any day or night, call me’
He span Sasha around and they danced together, wildly gesturing along to the
lyrics and Connie exaggeratedly shimmying his shoulders because that never
failed to make her crack up.
Connie thought his ribs were going to split clean open from laughter at their
ludicrous behaviour, him shaking his ass in a way that earned more than a few
cheers from nearby onlookers and Sasha hamming up every single action in the
song in a fashion that reminded him of Freddie Mercury onstage.
As the beat slowed and it came up to Sasha’s favourite bit when Debbie Harry
crooned in French, Connie stopped dancing to briefly accept a wave from Bertl
and a slap on the ass from Reiner, before turning around to dance some more but
he was caught short by the scene before him.
‘Appelle-moi, mon cherie, appelle-moi’
Sasha wasn’t dancing with him any more. Sasha had her arm on the shoulder and
hand clasped in the hand of Captain fucking Eyebrows or whatever Reiner liked
to call him. They were swaying together playfully, and she looked absolutely
star-struck, looking up at him with wide eyes and a blush on her cheeks.
Connie felt a burn in his chest. This was Sasha’s favourite bit, it was only
right that she spent it with her favourite person right? He bet Captain Shit-
brows didn’t even know this was her favourite bit, or that she loved Blondie,
or how to make her favourite kind of Stupid Fucking Eggs.
He felt acid burn in his stomach, more corrosive than even in his darkest
hangovers. He guessed it made sense, Captain Dumb Fucking Shit-brows was tall
and blonde and his face looked like it belonged on a marble bust in a Greek
temple. Connie was short and lumpy-headed and really fucking hated himself for
that right now.
They remained in their embrace, Sasha’s eyes locked with his.
Connie had seen enough. He felt betrayed almost, the only girl he ever danced
with was Sasha, why couldn’t she return the fucking favour? He slumped to the
bar and sat, only managing a halfway cheerful smile when Eren came up to ask if
he wanted a drink.
“Yeah, make it another rum and coke would you?”
 
Eren nodded, he looked a little tired from the evening so far, hair ruffled and
his lip looking a smidgeon bruised.
“Shit man, what happened to your lip?” Connie illustrated on his own face where
the offending abrasion was, “You didn’t have another stupid fight with Jean did
you? Oh man is that the reason he didn’t want to come out tonight? Jaeger you
little shit!” he rambled a little sloppily in his fairly drunken state, Eren
just handing him his drink before shaking his head.
“No, nothing like that. I thought ol’ horse-face loved coming to bars and
shit?”
Connie failed to notice the slight blush which coloured Eren’s cheeks and just
shrugged. Eren sidled off to get someone else their drink and Connie went back
to moping.
He spied Marco to his left and sauntered over, claiming the barstool next to
the boy with freckles and a far-away look in his eyes.
“Sup Marco? Why aren’t you over there shaking it out with the others?”
“Don’t feel like it at all” Marco replied, eyes visibly a little glassy. “Why
aren’t you?”
Connie sighed, “Sasha found a new dance partner, some tall blonde beautiful guy
who I can never-” He was cut off by Marco turning towards him with a look on
his face like thunder.
Marco, dear sweet Marco turned to him and said “Connie. Over the last few weeks
I have realised I want to do the frickle-frackle with someone. A boy. A boy
almost all of my closest friends refer to as ‘horseface’. But recently I
realised don’t just want to do the frickle-frackle. I think I am in love with
this dumb fucking boy who shouted some bullshit and bolted when I gave telling
him how I feel a shot. My life is an absolute fucking farce from start to
finish and I am really sorry but I cannot be dealing with your GODDAMN SHIT
RIGHT NOW.”
His voice cracked at the end, obviously unused to being used at anything over a
gentle exclamation. Connie felt part shocked, part thrilled and a little guilt-
stricken at the outburst.
“Wow.. You and, wait, Jean?”
Marco nodded grimly before pouring the rest of his drink down his throat and
walking away with no further explanation.
Connie was not used to so much of a tirade of emotions being inside him. He
felt sad and a little pissed off because Sasha and Captain Dumb Fucking Assbutt
Shit-brows were probably going to do the ‘frickle-frackle’ as Marco put it and
Connie would be number two in her life, then three, then ten, then they would
drift apart and it just wasn’t fair.
He sipped his drink and took the time out of his hectic state to feel sorry for
Marco. Poor Marco. He would help Marco figure this out. But at this instant he
didn’t want to look up from the bottom of his glass because then he might
glimpse Sasha with Captain Dumb Fucking Assbutt Turd Headed Shit-brows and even
the thought of that was like acid in his veins.
He had thought Sasha was his, in the unspoken way that he had always thought of
himself as hers. Connie kept his head down and resisted the urge to slam his
forehead into the still spotless bar top and cry.
***** Fire *****
Chapter Notes
     Huzzah, another update!
     Feedback is always amazing to receive, hope you enjoy this :)
JEAN’S POV
Jean abruptly put the phone down to Connie, and detached the last tendrils of
hope which had wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed like they were
trying to stop it beating.
He felt a little guilty, but mostly just disappointed it wasn’t Marco. Marco
apologising, Marco telling him he wanted to give him another chance, even Marco
yelling at him and saying he never wanted to see him again would be better than
the sudden halt of contact. Jean hadn’t been able to think about anything since
yesterday evening.
There were a million awful ways his behaviour could have come off to Marco;
that he was some disgusted homophobe who had bolted as soon as he brought up
his sexuality, that he had understood the implications of the words he had
shouted to him, in that wrecked, stricken tone which Jean had hoped he would
never hear from him, and wasn’t interested, or worse flat-out hated him for it.
Jean tramped back upstairs and collapsed into bed. He had been lying there for
almost twelve hours now, after migrating from his uncomfortable position
splayed across the floor sobbing along to Heart.
He hadn’t slept a wink in that time, everytime he shut his eyes he could see
his mistake replaying as if it had been whitewashed across his eyelids. He
toyed with the idea of running to Marco’s house, falling to his knees on the
front step and begging for a chance to explain himself, but he knew it was just
a pipedream; he wasn’t stupid and reckless like Jaeger, or smart and diplomatic
like Armin- he would cock it up and make everything worse.
Plus any courage that Jean had ever possessed in his heart fled when he thought
about seeing Marco again. Marco probably fucking hated him, probably never
wanted to see his stupid face ever again.
So there he lay as the day lazily trickled by, putting on the tape player again
for a little until he remembered that Marco had made it for him and then
kicking it to the floor. It crackled and gave up, it’s plastic base shattering
on impact.
That was enough to send Jean back into a spiral of sobbing and feeling like a
shit. He heard his parents depart at about five, they often spent the week in
their apartment in Trost because it made commuting much easier for them. He
decided that it meant he could sidle downstairs without a million and one
questions, but once in the kitchen realised the thought of food repulsed him.
He sat himself in the lounge and mechanically channel-hopped before realising
absolutely nothing could take his mind off Marco.
Another thrill of self-hatred shot through his chest as he thought how
differently it all could have gone: he could have of sat and listened and if
Marco had still told him about how he felt he could have smiled and embraced
him.
They could have had their first kiss at that swing set, Marco could have come
back to his and they could have kissed some more. He thought about how nice it
would be to have Marco’s familiar scent wreathing around him and him body
curled up with his.
Then they could have gone to Connie’s stupid downtown bar and danced and
laughed together and been so happy they could die.
Regret churned Jean’s stomach as he sat there. He knew he couldn’t go on like
this, but no alternative was obvious. The deeper implications began to sink in
now; all of his friends were Marco’s friends. If he couldn’t bear to see Marco,
he wouldn’t be able to see his friends.
He would have to retreat into the hermit-like trace he had existed in before he
had met the others from Stohess. Jean had never felt so lonely in his life.
Despair crashed over him like he was in the wake of a huge ocean wave, water
flooding his mouth and nose and face. All he could taste was salt.
Jean was so tired. So tired, but he knew he’d never sleep at this rate so he
shuffled to his parent’s bathroom and their medicine cabinet. His mother used
to suffer many sleepless nights, so they had a small stock of Ambien. He popped
four pills right off the bat, by this point not really giving a shit if the
dosage was too high.
He swallowed them down with water from the sink cupped in his palms and
returned to his room. He lay down and a foggy sensation overcame his vision,
and a metallic taste rang in his mouth.
Jean felt like he was being pushed down into his mattress as eddies and
currents of light began to swim above him, contorting and writhing together. He
stared, zoning in and out as these blurry shades thrashing around above him.
One melted into his mother’s face, frowning down at him chidingly. Another
became Marco, pale and stricken. The sound of his voice, broken and sobbing
reeled around Jean’s head as he pushed away at the cloying feeling.
REINER’S POV
Reiner went for an extra-long jog the morning after their visit to The
Pirripin, trying to shake the grasp of his hangover and reminisced on the
events of last night. He had got to his favourite stage of drunken revelry and
not beyond, so he was pissed but jovial all evening.
He had a whale of a time, dancing with Bertolt and another cute guy he didn’t
remember the name of. Reiner could appreciate cuteness whatever the gender, and
therefore took it as a great compliment when someone returned the favour.
He wasn’t gay, it was just whatever. Reiner was tough enough to ensure no-one
gave him shit for what he did, and it was all relative. He wasn’t sure he’d
ever actually do the deed with a guy, but after Bertl came out it was obvious
to Reiner that he had nothing to be ashamed of in finding the odd one
attractive.
After the third lap of the block he returned home. Bertolt’s lanky frame was
stretched across one couch, and Connie was curled up on the floor on a rug.
Reiner opted to put the radio on full blast and the dulcet tones of Bon Jovi’s
Dead Or Alive woke them up.
Connie was always a little less ludicrous and full of beans than usual in the
morning but it didn’t escape Reiner’s notice that he seemed downright miserable
at the moment, barely touching the breakfast Bertl had fixed up for the trio
graciously even after his rude awakening.
Reiner bumped Connie’s side. “Yo, what’s wrong cue-ball?”
Connie scowled at the nickname before sighing. “You know when you have
something, but don’t realise what it could have been until it’s gone? Like in
elementary when the kid you always buddy up with and never even considered not
being their partner for a shitty science project or a school trip, but then one
day they buddy up with someone else like you never even existed? And it just
feels like the ultimate betrayal?”
Bertl frowned, “Connie are you saying that someone didn’t want to be on your
kickball team and now you’re sad?”
“It’s a fucking metaphor Bert!” Connie exclaimed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to um,
shout.”
Bertolt looked a little affronted by the outburst but smiled at the placating
apology. Connie wasn’t good with volume, he knew that all too well.
“So, what’s it a metaphor for?” Reiner asked “I’m pretty flummoxed by what
you’re saying too..”
Connie frowned and poked at his plate of bacon a little before answering. “So,
last night, me and Sasha were dancing right? Like in the normal goofy way we
always do, but then I stop to wave at you Bert, and thank you for than slap to
the ass you gave me Reiner-”
Reiner shrugged unapologetically and Bertolt lit a cigarette, motioning for
Connie to keep talking.
-“and then she’s dancing with that fucking great oaf with the eyebrows, looking
at him like he can shit out the rainbow. And now I feel like crap and I don’t
totally understand why, but why would she rather dance with him? I’m her best
friend, y’know? And.. And..”
Connie trailed off with a look of anguish on his face, and Reiner decided he
had to address this shit before it got any more tragic.
“Connie, that feeling is called ‘jealousy’. Because Sasha might like someone
else who isn’t you and you don’t like that”
“She likes you guys, and that doesn’t bother me..”
Bertolt cut across him there, still puffing on his cigarette.
“She doesn’t like us though, Connie, I think you need to admit to yourself that
you might have deeper than platonic feelings for Sasha, because that’s what it
looks like from here.”
Connie spluttered a little and tried to jam some food in his mouth, probably
thinking that choking to death on bacon was preferable to this conversation.
Reiner shook his head and sighed “C’mon man, there’s no shame in just liking a
girl you know.”
Connie stared at him like he had called Hendrix ‘just some guy with a guitar'.
“It isn’t ‘a girl’ is it though, it’s Sasha. She’s my best friend! How the fuck
can I just turn around and be like ‘hey, I think you and I would be a more
perfect couple than Henry the eighth and that one wife he didn’t divorce or
have killed’?”
Bertl shrugged, “By saying just that I suppose, but you should probably take
into account that Henry the eighth and Catherine Parr hardly had a happy
marriage-”
Reiner nudged Bertolt, causing him to drop his cigarette into his empty plate.
“Hardly the pep talk he needs right now Bertl-Turtle, but nice try.”
EREN’S POV
Last night was chaotic for Eren, the stress of the usual rush of work amplified
by the presence of his friends. He didn’t even want to know how they got into
the place, but they swallowed up his time and attention with their drunken
chit-chat, causing him to lag behind in terms of orders.
He got off at midnight, and wandered around the back towards his car gently
taking drags off another roll-up. Eren was great believer in waste-not-want-
not, and decided that he would embrace the challenge of rolling his own
cigarettes with open arms and only a little disgruntlement.
“Hey brat”
He glanced back towards the bar and saw Levi walked towards him, a glint in his
eye and a sway in his hips.
“Hi there, dickface”
Levi smirked at the rebuttal and pulled Eren towards him as he drew near.
Eren wrapped his arms around his neck and accepted the embrace, revelling in
the sensation of Levi’s strong arms around his waist. Levi pushed a quick kiss
into the crook of his neck and Eren sighed at the affection, hooking his chin
over Levi’s head and dropping a kiss of his own onto his thick, dark hair.
Eren drew away with a smile which was reciprocated by Levi. He saved the mental
picture into the thin but quickly expanding folder in his head labelled ‘Levi’s
proper smiles’.
Levi broke the eye contact to fish around in his pocket and pull out a magic
marker.
“Give me your arm, no the other one you idiot. If I write my number on that one
you won’t be able to read it off properly when you call me tomorrow.”
Eren flushed a little but recovered as Levi’s cold hands cradled his arm and
scrawled a number across it in elegant script.
“When I call you tomorrow?”
Levi glanced up at him, and following his streak of unpredictability seized him
by the collar of his button up and pulled him downwards into a fierce kiss.
Their mouths met and Eren automatically wound his hands into Levi’s hair,
desperately reciprocating the passion he was supplying.
It only lasted a few seconds, Levi pulling away and smirking before confirming
“When you call me tomorrow.”
He walked towards his own car and Eren hopped into his own, smiling in return
to the little flutter of fingers Levi sent in farewell. He felt like he was
gliding along the streets rather than driving, that last kiss sending all the
blood from his head to, ahem, elsewhere.
The drive went by quickly, and he arrived to an empty home. Too exhausted to
bother with a shower before tomorrow morning, Eren tumbled into bed, his eyes
sliding shut and his final thoughts contemplating how well the space beside him
could facilitate a short, grumpy man with awful manners and the most
captivating smile he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.
***** Wish You Were Here *****
Chapter Notes
     Phew, sorry about the belated update; it's been a hectic start to the
     week unfortunately..
     But anyhoo, here's the latest chapter, complete with angsty shits
     left right and centre. Hope you like it! c:
CONNIE’S POV
Connie had been feeling antsy since Reiner's the previous morning, even an
afternoon session in the arcade with the guys and a joint before bed didn't
relax him.
The on-edge feeling rested at the pit of his stomach no matter what he did, his
heart warped to light-speed when he picked up the phone just before it rang off
and Sasha's voice echoed down the receiver.
"Hey Con, what'cha doing today?"
"Um, I, nothing actually, why do you wanna hang out?"
His voice cracked a little on the last phrase and he flipped off his brother
who snorted from his position on the couch, smoking a long roll-up which smelt
a lot like the Columbian he had been smoking the night before.
Connie made a mental note to chew him out for delving into his pot-stash,
before tuning back into Sasha's words.
".. And then I thought we could go to Taco Bell and maybe catch a movie?"
"Oh, uh yeah sure that sounds good."
Sasha paused for a moment.
"Are you okay Connie? You sound weird as fuck. You didn't take any of those
pills that were going around the other night did you?"
"Huh? Oh no, no way I just got a bad nights sleep.. Taco Bell and a movie
sounds rad, who else should invite?"
Connie desperately tried to inject some of his usual pep into his words but
even he could tell it fell flat
"Hmmm I think we should do this one solo, we haven't hung out properly for
about a million years! I've gotta get my skates on now cowboy, but I'll catch
you at.. Three? Outside 'Bell?"
"Yeah, yeah sounds cool, I'll see you then"
Sasha disconnected and Connie felt a strange twist in his gut. Usually he'd
jump at the chance to hang out with his best friend, but somehow over the
period of forty-eight hours she'd gone from Sasha to being Sasha. She was still
his goofy buddy, but now he wanted to also hold her, and kiss her and protect
her from the evils of the world the best a fucking midget like him could.
“Yo, was that the girl you’ve got a stiffy for or something?” Leo giggled from
the couch
Connie huffed and chucked a cushion at him as he passed, “No, just Sasha.”
“..You’ve got the hots for Sasha? Like girl-who-eats-us-out-of-house-and-home
Sasha?”
“Fuck off!”
Connie stomped to his room, changing into a slightly more decent Arizona
Wildcats basketball vest and his usual sneakers, checking his watch to see that
his three o’clock meeting with Sasha was only an hour away.
He could walk to Taco Bell in half that time so it was no issue, however he
couldn’t quell the anxiety running up and down his spine. Connie knew that if
he acted off with her even a little, she would notice and hound him until he
told her what was up, and that wasn’t how he planned to tell her he liked her.
He wasn’t sure how he did plan to tell her, but there was probably a string-
quartet and lots of crying involved. He wasn’t sure who would be crying and why
yet, though.
Connie walked to the Taco Bell at an easy pace, enjoying the summer sun on his
skin and letting it melt his cares away one by one. Suddenly he was in the Taco
Bell parking lot and all of those problems felt like ice cubes lodged in his
throat all over again.
He stood waiting, not expecting the sudden weight of Sasha jumping on his back.
“CONNIE! THERE YOU ARE!”
He fell to the ground with an ‘ooft’, Sasha always did forget that she was
about four inches taller than him and what felt like five stone heavier.
She landed on top of him, giggling like a lunatic. Connie laughed too, mocking
himself for getting so worked up about it. Right until he squirmed half-over
and they were nose to nose.
From here he could see the light dusting of freckles sprayed over her nose, and
if he took the time he could probably count each one of her dark eyelashes. He
felt like his heart was going to explode.
Sasha realized he had stopped laughing and looked down at him, a serious moment
of tension stretching between them.
“Oh shit, I’m crushing your ribs again aren’t I?” She let him up, and he took
the opportunity to nod fervently, yep yes totally that’s why I went silent and
started staring at you like a total fucking freak.
“Yeah, you big lug..” He teased, trying to ease himself back into their natural
banter.
She slapped his shoulder and giggled, “Alright alright, as an apology, tacos
are on me.”
Connie wasn’t so far out of his usual mental state he didn’t smile at the
prospect of free food.
They walked together towards the Taco Bell, Sasha absentmindedly looping her
arm through Connie’s and chattering about the mass D&D game she was planning on
setting up with Bertolt.
Connie couldn’t help but wonder if they usually made this much physical
contact. He couldn’t believe that if they had, he had been so calm about it.
Right now her hand was clasped around the crook of his arm and their hips kept
brushing. That was all, and Connie felt like he was about to have a fucking
stroke.
They ordered and ate quickly, and Connie had hoped Sasha’s decidedly gross
approach to eating food might put him off a little, but instead it was just
hopelessly endearing. It was one of the things that made Sasha, Sasha. He ate
with less gusto than usual, kind of how he imagined Erwin Smith would eat a
double-decker beef taco.
Sasha had decided she wanted to see Bladerunner for the eighth time since it
had come out, and Connie had to agree. He fucking loved Bladerunner. A matinee
showing was happening at the shitty little theatre a few blocks away from the
Taco Bell, so there they walked. Sasha talked animatedly as Connie smoked a
cigarette, until she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him around to face her.
“Cons, seriously. What is up with you man?”
“Me? Uh, nothing.”
“Nothing my ass, you’ve been acting super fucking weird all day.”
Connie felt almost insulted, he had tried damn hard at behaving like everything
was totally normal.
“Have not!”
“Yeah, you have. First of all, I fall on you about three times a day but you
froze up all awkwardly earlier. Then, you only have one taco as opposed to your
normal three, and now you’re smoking during the day. You only ever smoke
cigarettes at night!”
“Pffft, no I do not, you’re being ridiculous.”
She was totally right.
“No, I’m not. Conrad Isaac Springer, I know you and therefore I know when
something’s up.”
Connie stared at her face, drawn into a mask of seriousness. He stared, trying
to think of something clever to say, before against his will a smirk wobbled
across his mouth.
“.. Did you just full name me?!”
They both broke into peals of laughter, “No one uses my full name but my
fuckin’ grandma when she’s mad at me!”
Sasha giggled a little more. “Yeah I know, I got really bored of you not
telling me what it was so I just asked Leo after I saw him in StarMart the
other week..”
Connie gaped. That little snake in the grass. He tallied that up on the list of
things he was pissed at him brother for, then in a fit of relief that the
tension was broken pulled Sasha’s head into an enthusiastic noogie.
“Hey, hey fuck off cue-ball, just because you have no hair to screw up!”
Connie huffed at the insult and released her, walking towards the theatre. She
caught up easily and threw her arm around his shoulder. She blushed a little
when he hooked his arm around her waist as they sauntered along. Usually their
physical affection was one-sided in a mocking you’re-my-little-buddy kind of
way, but today Connie decided he was amping this shit up a notch.
EREN’S POV
Eren reached out for the phone again before dropping his arm to his side. To
call or not to call, that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to
suffer the slings and hooks of being outrageously desperate, or to stand
against a sea of hormones and in doing so, end them.
Eren cursed Armin for reciting that damned soliloquy to him until it was
committed to his memory too, and he didn’t even do theatre club. He glanced
back down to Levi’s number, safely transferred from his arm to a post-it note.
It was four o’clock, would Levi be awake at this point? Would he be in his..
House? Apartment? The more Eren thought about it the more he realised he didn’t
know about Levi. Where did he live? Did he like living there? What is his
favourite band? What kind of breakfast cereal does he prefer?
The things Eren wanted to know about him were limitless.
What was his bedroom like? Did he keep that as meticulously tidy as he did the
bar at work? What kind of pyjamas does he wear? Did he wear none at all?
Eren blushed like an eleven-year-old at the thought of Levi naked, he imagined
he would be all pale skin and sinewy muscle. It was testament to how
pathetically sexually frustrated he was when he started to feel a stirring
between his legs at the thought.
He shook his head. He had to sack up and just call Levi already. He allowed
himself one more aborted grab for the phone before he steeled himself and
dialled the number. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. No answer.
Eren felt like an absolute tool, stressing out about one lousy phone call which
didn’t even get answered. He sat down then, a little deflated. Then the phone
began to ring. He picked up, assuming it was Annie asking after Mikasa, or
Sasha calling about her dumb Dungeons & Dragons plan.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah to you too, brat..”
The familiar hum of Levi’s baritone voice echoed down the phone and Eren almost
did a double-take.
“I called, you didn-”
“I know, my bad. I was playing and didn’t hear the phone go off.”
That piqued Eren’s interest.
“Playing..?”
“Piano. I’ll show you some time. I’m not half bad actually”
“Modest, too” Eren smirked
“Whatever, not like I said I’m humanity’s greatest or anything.”
Eren was actually really enjoying talking to Levi. The gentle thrum of Levi’s
deep voice was also the focal point of many of his fantasies at the moment, so
he was savouring every word and how it rolled off his tongue, despite the
static.
“Uh huh.. So why did you want me to call you?”
“Is it so unrealistic that maybe I just wanted to chat shit with you once in a
while? Plus I could do with some company Wednesday night.”
“Oh, really? Cool.”
Eren fought to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. Finally, so many of his
questions would be answered.
“Yep. I’ll talk to you about it at work tomorrow, but for now, how was your
day?”
That caught him off guard, Levi never really seemed the type for small-talk.
“Um, good, yeah fine. Only woke up a few hours ago, had a shower and did some
reading.”
“Reading?” Levi’s voice was a little mocking and that made Eren’s temper flare
just a little.
“Yeah. Vonnegut. Armin gave it to me”
Levi paused before asking “Armin, is that the little blonde one? Who kept being
mistook for a girl by almost all of the hulking lesbians in the bar last
night?”
Eren laughed despite himself. “Yep, that’s our Armin.”
Conversation trickled on from there, until Mikasa got home and Eren had to
excuse himself.
“Well, I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Bye, Levi.”
“Goodbye Eren.”
Eren paused before hanging up, and apparently so did Levi. There was a moment
of silence when neither of them disconnected. Eren burst out laughing and could
practically feel Levi rolling his eyes on a gargantuan scale as he hung up the
phone.
Mikasa just looked at him like he was dumb as a bag of rocks before sighing and
unpacking the groceries.
JEAN’S POV
Jean had been all alone for two days now. After his parents left for Trost he
had ridden out his Ambien-fuelled high until he passed out.
He had slept for almost twelve hours, and he woke up groggy but feeling no less
fucking awful. The mourning burn in his stomach had dulled a little, but the
conundrum of how the fuck he was going to handle the situation that the
misunderstanding had spiralled into was as present and sparkling as it was
forty-eight hours ago.
Not to mention, Jean still loathed himself. He was so fucking stupid and
bumbling and if he just an iota of self-control his life would be awesome.
Instead now he was alone and miserable. The phone rang now and then, but he
didn’t bother picking it up. He knew it wouldn’t be Marco.
He lay in bed, smoking his way through his final pack of cigarettes and
listening to Pink Floyd on his parent’s record player. When it came to ‘Wish
You Were Here’ he couldn’t help but have another sob to himself.
‘..Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange a walk
on part in the war for a lead role in a cage..?’
The lilting guitar riff stuck in his mind and chimed over and over until he got
up and decided to go to the nearest corner shop to buy some more smokes. He
dressed in baggy jeans and a dirty sweater, which he realised was Marco’s
several seconds after he put it on.
He had to sit down for a minute then, wrapping himself in the stiff fabric and
inhaling the smell of Marco. It was like pine and lavender.
Jean got a grip after a while, but still couldn’t face going out until it was
dark and he had another two pops of Ambien.
He sauntered down to the store then, head lighter than usual and the part of
his mind which was still engaging praying he didn’t see anyone he knew. He paid
up for the packet of cigarettes and made some shitty small talk with the clerk
before leaving, dragging his feet along the sidewalk and feeling like he was
gravity’s only target at that moment.
He felt so impossibly weighted down with guilt and isolation, that it was a
miracle he even made it home without just curling up in someone’s drive and
giving up. He got there eventually, clambering the stairs and crumpling back
into bed.
Jean lit up the first cigarette of his new pack and lay there for a little,
before realising this wasn’t going to cut it. He took another two pills from
the Ambien pot and lay in the bathtub, allowing the mists of his mind to take
him where they may.
The sound of Marco’s sobbing echoed around his head even more than it had the
previous evening.
***** Livin' On A Prayer *****
Chapter Notes
     Short chapter just from Reiner's point of view; I meant to include
     Eren's too but I am waaay too tired for that and they're both a
     decent length so it's gonna be two chapters for the intent of one I'm
     afraid..
     Enjoy! Although don't think Jean's out of the woods yet.. *deviously
     smirks*
REINER’S POV
After seeing hide nor two-toned hair of Jean for almost three days, Reiner was
worried. He had called his phone twice yesterday, to no avail. Bertolt, Annie
and Armin were all reporting similar results.
He tried getting ahold of Marco, but at the mention of Jean he fell silent and
said he had to go in a tremulous voice. None of them knew what that meant, but
they could all assume it fell under the category of ‘not good’.
Tuesday at around midday when another of his calls and two of Armin’s rang off
into silence, Reiner decided it was time to pay a visit to the Kirstein
household. He trekked to Rosa Close, with a concerned Armin and Bertolt in tow,
mind clouded with terrible consequences of the almost 78-hour blackout they had
endured.
It was a cloudier day than it had been for a while. The air was sticky and
humid, which was doing no favours for his patience, Armin’s hair or Bertolt’s
perspiration problem. They arrived at Jean’s place, a spacious house in the
nicest part of Stohess and Reiner wasted no time in hammering his fist against
the door in an aggressive attempt at knocking.
“Hey, guys..” Armin began, peering around at the empty driveway “His parent’s
car isn’t here.. They live in Trost sometimes right? Maybe Jean’s gone with
them.”
Bertolt shrugged “It does make sense Rein...”
Reiner shook his head. “Jean fucking hates staying in Trost, he’s told me so
about a million times. No way he’s gone there.” He then returned to his furious
knocking.
Bertolt shrugged once more, not really sure who to believe. In an act of
solidarity he joined Reiner in battering the door. Reiner knelt down in front
of the letterbox and peered in.
The hallway was dark but he could make out both Jean’s leather jacket and
boots.
“Yo, his jacket and shoes are here” He called over his shoulder to Armin, who
was still looking conflicted on the cobbled path, “No way he’d leave his
leather here, he’s got to be in.”
Armin frowned and nodded, moving towards the door to crouch next to Reiner-
Bertolt still pummelling the door above them. Armin called into the house,
“Jean? Jean are you in?”
“We’re worried about you man, open up!” Reiner chimed in.
The house remained silent.
“Jean I swear to fucking god, open the door this instant or I will come in
there and make you wish Jaeger had broken your balls!” Reiner shouted, getting
fairly pissed off now.
They all stood up and away from the door, Bertolt looking pretty worn out and
sweating even more profusely than before.
“C’mon,” Armin said briskly, “let’s see if there’s a window we can jimmy open.”
Reiner was a little shocked at such a dastardly suggestion from someone as
angelic as Armin, but agreed nonetheless. He walked up to the door to give it
one last try, rapping the wood with his knuckles and calling in a voice which
he hoped would carry through the structure.
“Jean open up or we’re gonna break in!”
To his surprise, the wood shifted under his fist. Then it slid back to reveal
Jean. Reiner wasn’t being insensitive or anything when he thought man, he looks
fucking terrible.
The bags under Jean’s eyes resembled bruises, ugly and purple, smeared under
his eyes which were more bloodshot than Sasha’s after a night in with Connie.
His skin looked pasty and washed out, and his hair was matted and greasy.
Clearly this boy hadn’t had a shower in the short time he’d been a recluse.
When he tried to speak it came out as a rasp, and he had to clear his throat
and try again. “Wh-What the fuck do you guys want?”
He tried to move through the door frame but cringed at the sunlight and sidled
back into the inky hallway.
Reiner flailed for words, he had never seen anyone, much less Jean in a state
like this. He was in jeans, loose jeans at that, never Jean’s forte, which were
creased and crumpled. His face looked drawn and sickly. Luckily Armin was more
eloquent than Reiner in a situation like this.
“Jean, what the fuck have you been playing at? We’ve been worried half to death
about you, seriously what is wrong?” Armin snapped.
“Nothing’s wrong, I-”
“Don’t give us that bullshit Jean.” Everyone looked kind of taken about by
Bertolt’s quiet but steel-laced words. “You look like crap, and we’re trying to
help you. Let us be your friends here alright?”
Jean opened and closed his mouth for a moment, totally thrown by the closest
Bertl ever came to an outburst.
“I appreciate your concern, but there isn’t much you can do. I don’t want to
talk about, just please, leave me be for now.”
He tried to shut the door but Reiner wedged his foot in the way.
“No, fuck that,” Reiner internally celebrated finally finding his voice “You
need help right now, and we’re going to do just that, like it or fucking not.
Let us in Jean.”
Jean deflated and stood back from the door, moving down the hall and motioning
for them to enter.
Armin flicked on the lights as they traipsed into the house, they clearly
hadn’t been used in a while as they spluttered before casting light over the
hallway. Bertolt shut the door behind him and Reiner pulled Jean into the
kitchen to sit at the table. Close up, his eyes looked even more glassy and
inflamed.
Reiner had comforted Annie through her parent’s divorce enough to know when
someone had been crying themselves to sleep. He sat with Jean and sized him up-
he was wearing an viridescent cable knit sweater which obviously wasn’t from
his wardrobe. It should have been a little baggy most likely, but it hung off
his limbs in a shockingly slack fashion.
“Jean, when’s the last time you ate?” Reiner asked cautiously.
“Um..” He could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t being coy or stalling
for time, Jean genuinely didn’t know. “Saturday? Or Sunday maybe? Not too
long.”
Bertolt snorted. “Not too long my ass. I’m making you some food right this
instant.” He disappeared around the corner and began audibly rummaging through
the fridge.
“No, no I really don’t feel hungry” Jean protested.
Armin fixed him with a stern look. “You are going to eat that food, but before
that you’re going to tell us what catastrophic thing happened to turn you into
a moping hermit.”
Jean looked taken aback all over again before hanging his head.
“I dicked up.” He mumbled, “I dicked up really fucking badly Armin.”
His voice cracked a little on the final syllable and Reiner felt crushing
sympathy for his usually proud and well put-together friend.
“Yeah?” Armin coaxed gently, “what happened Jean?”
Jean swallowed unsteadily, glancing around before hanging his head again.
“Marco hates me.”
Reiner’s eyes widened with incredulity, “Marco doesn’t hate you man, Marco
loves you.”
“NO, Reiner, that’s the fucking problem!” Jean shouted suddenly, causing
Bertolt to yelp and drop what ever he was doing with a loud clatter. Jean
didn’t hear or didn’t care, either way he carried on his tirade. “Marco doesn’t
love me, I love him. I fucking love him Reiner and he probably never wants to
see my face again. I fucked up astronomically on this one, not just the time I
tried to ask Mikasa to Homecoming style of fucked up, like actually properly
ruined everything fucked up.”
He looked surprised at the ferocity of his words before his face crumpled.
Reiner witnessed something he never thought he would: Jean Kirstein bury his
head in his hands and uncensoredly sob. He choked out more words.
“So yeah, I feel I’m entitled to become a moping hermit and cry my fag little
heart out all I want because I’m in love with someone who is not only my best
friend and a boy, but also someone who probably will never want to look at me
in the eye again.”
Reiner sat there unsettled and unsure of what to do. Bertl re-appeared from the
kitchen area with a plate of bagels with peanut butter and place in in front of
his shuddering form.
Reiner started to reach out to pat his back comfortingly, but Armin caught his
eye and shook his head. No, he mouthed,
let him get it all out first.
Jean drew a weak breath and exhaled it as he looked up. His face was blotchy
and tear-stained as he began to talk in a precariously hysterical tone.
“So, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep without a handful of fucking pills and I can’t
think at the moment. It’s going to quite a chore getting myself back on track,
so I don’t think I want to bother. I’ve never loved anyone before this, and I
don’t think I will again, because it fucking hurts. It sucks and it’s like a
twist of the dagger every time I contemplate leaving my stupid room and seeing
his stupid face, because he’s done with me. He said so. And he’s going to be
moving on and I can’t watch that, I can’t fucking take watching that.”
His voice quavered again and he slumped into his seat, looking like the most
broken man Reiner had ever set eyes upon. Then Armin nodded at him and he
reached out a tentative hand.
He patted his back soothingly as Armin began to talk.
“Tell us the story Jean, right from the beginning.”
And so Jean did. He told them about the day he and Marco shared together, how
they had gone for a walk. How Marco had been asked out by Mina and he
punctuated that with some choice venomous words. Then Marco had told him he was
gay. And that he liked someone. And Jean, being the bull-headed moron he is,
had taken that in exactly the wrong way, said the exactly wrong thing and then
charged off like an idiot. He could barely speak by the end of it, but managed
to stutter out that Marco had shouted to him to “never fucking mind” about it,
and then disappeared.
Bertolt hummed in all the right places and Armin squinted his eyes in the way
he always did when he was about to do something clever. Nervous convulsive
gasps began to wrack Jean’s body again and Reiner nipped that in the bud by
offering him some of the bagel. He ate tentatively as Armin spoke.
“First of all, Jean you have no business calling Eren a reckless idiot.
Sometimes you’re just as bad, if not worse. Also, you don’t need to be
disintegrating like this, it was a simple misunderstanding. Totally fixable.
You just need to talk with Marco, and it will be sorted out. That’s all there
is to it.”
Jean stared at Armin with a mouthful of bagel, like he was the blonde-haired
messiah.
Reiner bumped his shoulder with his own. “Tomorrow night we’re going out to the
desert again, you should join us. Take a shower, change your damn clothes and
get some decent rest and you’ll be ship-shape. You’ll sort things out with
Marco, I promise you.”
Jean hiccupped a little as he swallowed his chunk of food and nodded. “Alright,
I’ll do it.”
Armin smiled at that, and Bertolt switched on the radio. Bon Jovi flooded into
the room, as did some of the colour on Jean’s face. Reiner hoped to Jesus, Mary
and Joseph he could make good on his promise to his fragile friend.
***** Faith *****
Chapter Notes
     So, I wrote porn for the first time. *sweats nervously*
     Hope it's not too awful, and expect another update soon!
     A huge thank you to all of my readers, commenters, bookmarkers and
     um, kudos-ers? Is that the right phrase? But regardlessly, THANK YOU
     THANK YOU THANK YOU, YOU ALL ROCK SOMETHING HELLA. c:
EREN’S POV
Eren prepared for work on Tuesday in his usual fashion, lacing his combat boots
at the table before he tucked into some early dinner. Soup and bread wasn’t
extravagant, but he enjoyed it all the same since his usual diet mostly
consisted of cereal and fry-ups.
Once he was done he checked his watch before tramping up to Mikasa’s room. He
knocked before peeking his head around the door. She was sitting on her bed
with Annie, who was smoking a clump of green through a small glass pipe which
Mikasa usually didn’t let anyone touch.
“Yo, Annie, Mikasa. I’m just heading out to work now.”
Annie nodded an apathetic goodbye. Mikasa actually replied, although her tongue
sounded a little heavy in her mouth.
“Alright ‘Ren. Are you gonna come out to the desert tomorrow night? Because I’m
driving Hanji and that out so you may as well hitch a lift.”
Eren grinned a big shit-eating smile. “Nope, I’ve got plans. I’m staying at a..
Friend from work’s place.”
“Is that the same ‘friend from work’ you made out with on our doorstep a few
days ago?”
“You saw that?! How?! Are some kind of hawk-eyed freak or something?” Eren
snapped in return, a little taken aback by the observation.
“Something like that.. So, have a good time with your boyfriend. Use a rubber.”
Eren spluttered and Annie’s normally stoic expression stretched into one of
surprise “Boyfriend?” She grinned, “didn’t take you for the type to be honest,
Eren.”
Eren just huffed and slammed the door, partially because he if he didn’t get a
move on he would be late for his shift and partially because his friends are
dicks.
As vengeance he took Mikasa’s half full pack of smokes on his way out and her
bomber jacket, just because he’d grown very fond of that. He drove down town at
a leisurely pace, smoking one of the cigarettes out the window and thinking
about Mikasa’s words. Was Levi his boyfriend?
They had kissed a few times now, and Eren was ninety-nine percent sure that
night at the drive-in had been a date. He hoped it wasn’t just wishful
thinking; he had really come to like Levi, and although he had never considered
himself the type to want a relationship, the thought of having something steady
with Levi was such an appealing prospect it made his stomach erupt in
butterflies.
No, not butterflies. Something manlier, like.. Moths. It made his stomach feel
like it was filled with moths. Eren considered what actually being with Levi
would be like. Staying around his house, having dinner together, watching
shitty TV and then sleeping in the same bed. Hopefully doing more than
sleeping.
Eren had frantically jerked off in the shower earlier, thinking about Levi’s
mouth trailing languidly down his dick and his deft hands clasping around his
ass, but he didn’t think that would do much to calm his libido when he was
around Levi.
He pulled into his usual space in the parking lot and walked in through the
back door as usual, earning a cheery smile from Erwin who was in the room
behind the bar, frantically tapping away at a calculator.
“Hey Eren!” He called over, “how are you finding the business so far?”
“Good, amazing actually, thank you so much-”
“It was my pleasure.” Erwin cut him off, standing up and coming over with an
envelope in his hands. “This are your wages for the last few shifts you pulled,
Levi’s told me you’re doing exceptionally well so far, and believe me that man
does not dole out compliments easily.”
Erwin chuckled like he was reminiscing on a better time and Eren felt a
peculiar little stab of jealousy.
He thought Erwin was an awesome guy, no questions asked, but he had got into
the habit of thinking of Levi as his. It was weird to find someone who
obviously considered himself closer to the short man than he was.
Eren decided it was more mature not to comment and just nodded, accepting the
envelope with a little thrill in his heart and his head whirring with mental
maths. Three seven hour shifts at $4 an hour came to $84 dollars overall.
Fucking radical.
He played it cool and courteously smiled at Erwin and thanked him, all the
while mentally celebrating his first-ever paycheck. Erwin smiled in return and
sat at a bar stool whilst Eren prepped things for the evening, stacking and
polishing glasses.
“So,” Erwin began, in a less confident tone than usual, “I’ve heard you and
Levi have become pretty close lately?”
Eren almost dropped the tumbler he was wiping dry. “Um, yeah, yeah we are.”
Oh fuck, he really didn’t know what to make of this. Would Erwin be mad? Would
he insist they break things off?
“Be good to him, Eren.”
Not what he had been expecting.
“Levi’s much more of a sensitive soul than he makes out. He’s a very old and
dear friend of mine, which gives me confidence in my inkling that you’re going
to be good for each other.”
And that was all, before Erwin swept out of the room. Eren was fairly stunned
by the way the conversation had panned out. He occupied himself with the
glasses until he heard the back door swing open again and Levi’s familiar
stride approaching him.
“Hey Eren” Levi greeted. “You’ve missed at least one spot of every one of those
tumblers you know.” Eren groaned. Fucking shitty glasses. Even Mikasa was
subordinate to Levi’s level of OCD eagle-vision.
Levi chuckled and opened up doors. Tonight was a jazz night, so live
performance and an atmosphere which was much more relaxed than the usual
mayhem. Eren poured and measured drinks as the usual crowd filtered in, all
finding a perch of some form on the obviously budget furniture which had been
dragged onto the expanse of floor between the bar and dance floor where a young
gentleman played a whimsical trumpet piece.
Levi took the lull in service as an opportunity to wrap his arms around Eren’s
waist and hooking his chin over the taller man’s shoulder. Eren couldn’t help
the giddy smile which spread across his face at Levi’s casual affection and
clasped the hands around his waist in his own, gently dragging the pad of his
thumb across the back of Levi’s hands which were cool the the touch.
The music was slow and seductive, and Eren began to relax as he leant backwards
into Levi’s embrace. He almost moaned at the ferocity of the shiver that ran
down his spine as Levi began to press tiny kisses into his neck, beneath the
earlobe.
His skin felt too tight and hot, but not in a bad way. Their embrace was
abruptly ended by the song finishing, and the night trickled on in a similar
fashion, stolen moments of sentimentality amongst the night’s business.
It was more than enough to get Eren appropriately worked up in the hormone
department, and he felt like the slightest brush against his erogenous zone on
Levi’s part would probably make him jizz in his pants like some kind of fucking
idiot by the time their shift ended.
He lit a cigarette once outside and went to unlock his car, planning on
listening to his new The Clash tape which Mikasa had bought for him a few weeks
previously. Unfortunately, once he was inside the car, things began to turn
pear-shaped. No matter how many times he turned his keys in the ignition, the
motor refused to engage. Shit, he cursed to himself.
“Car troubles, brat?” Levi’s familiar drawl sounded from the exit.
Eren sighed and nodded, clambering out of the seat and moving around the car to
pop the bonnet.
He stared down at the engine until Levi joined his side, also staring down
intently at the interior of the car.
“Ah, yes, I see the problem.”
“Really?” Eren’s heart leapt, he should have known Levi was good with mechanics
and multi-faceted and-
“The problem is it’s a shitty car with some kind of shitty problem that we
don’t know how to fix.”
Ah, nope. Levi glanced at him, gently winding his arm around his waist. “Come
on brat, you can crash the night at my apartment and we’ll get this towed to
the garage tomorrow morning. Alright?”
Eren smiled with gratitude and reciprocated the half-embrace with a squeeze of
Levi’s shoulder and pressed his lips to his cheek, internally giggling at the
little stoop he had to perform to kiss him.
Obviously it wasn’t as internal as Eren had hoped as Levi jammed his elbow into
his ribs playfully and dragged him by the hand to his Honda. In Eren’s grief
and frustration with his car he had neglected that this was an amazing
occurrence. He was finally going to get to see Levi’s home, most of his weird
over-personal questions about his life would be answered in the next few
minutes.
He hopped into shotgun and immediately started fiddling with the radio. Levi
shut his door and started up the car. They began to drive as Eren tuned into a
station he liked.
“Careful brat, you might start accusing me of not having a soul again.” Levi
remarked teasingly.
Eren went blank for a moment before he remember the comment he had made to Levi
the last time he had played a song on his radio and blushed a little.
“Hey, you were really mean to me that day!”
“I’m fairly mean to you every day, just think of that as an indication for
things to come.”
Eren rolled his eyes and mentally willed for the commercials on the radio to
stop so his point would be proved. Chords began to cascade out of the player,
but he didn’t recognise then until Levi grinned at him and began to sing along
the the lyrics.
‘Well I guess it would be nice, If I could touch your body, I know not
everybody, has got a body like me..’
Eren groaned and clasped his head into his hands, to Levi’s delight, who began
moving his shoulders along to the beat and singing along with George Michael as
loudly as he could.
“Fucking stop that!”
“Never! I’m gay as the fourth of July and I’ll sing Faith as much as I fucking
please!” Levi shouted back with relish.
Eren cracked up, and actually relented to singing along in the second chorus,
hand entwined with Levi's. They pulled up outside an apartment block and Levi
climbed out of the car. Eren did the same and was a little shocked when Levi
addressed him with a solemn look.
“Eren, I hope you realise what this means.”
“Huh?”
“Eren Jaeger, you just held a gay man's hand and sang along to George Michael.
Congratulations and welcome to the queer club, baby gay!”
Eren huffed and jabbed him in the ribs, before allowing himself to be pulled up
to Levi’s apartment on the third floor.
He was a little apprehensive at entering, but walking in the room he could
sense it was irrevocably Levi’s. The decor was sparse but tasteful, and
painstakingly neat. He had a piano at the far side of the room and a small
television opposite the navy couch.
Levi immediately slid off his jacket, not the leather one unfortunately, and
hung it over the back of the sofa. “I’m taking a shower, make yourself as
comfortable as you know I’m okay with.”
With that he disappeared and Eren sat on the sofa, kicking his shoes off and
getting bored within moments, shuffling off to explore the rest of the
apartment. There was a small kitchenette running off the side of the lounge,
and opposite the bathroom where Levi had just entered, a door. Eren pushed the
door open, and glanced around.
In time, Eren knew he would catalogue every last thing about this room, but for
now his vision tunnelled to the bed on the far corner of the room. As always
after a shift, he was fucking exhausted and decided to lie over the spread and
shut his eyes for a few minutes until Levi was done with his shower.
He was seriously starting to believe that Levi had some form of OCD when it
came to cleanliness.
Eren dozed off for a few minutes, waking when Levi entered the room in a towel.
“Oh, um, sorry I just uh-”
Levi just smirked as his discomfort and turned away from him before dropping
his towel and tugging on a pair of briefs.
Eren meant to look away, he really did. But Levi with rivulets of water moving
down his alabaster skin was enough as it was. Then he had to fucking drop his
towel.
Every coherent sentence Eren had ever formed were chased from his mind into
oblivion.
He scarcely knew what he was doing as he crossed the room.
Levi turned around and they were nose to nose, and then Eren was grabbing his
hair and mashing their lips together. Levi reciprocated, their mouths clashing
and fighting for dominance as every ounce of Eren’s physical desperation and
emotional desire was pushed from his veins and into the heat of the kiss.
Levi drew back for a moment to grab the hem of Eren’s t-shirt and pull it over
his head, taking his moment of disorientation as an excuse to push him
backwards onto the bed and straddle his waist.
Eren took a moment to gather his bearings, gazing up at Levi with pupils blown
and mouth kissed raw. Every nerve ending in his body was craving more. He
tugged Levi down towards him for another passionate kiss, groaning into his
mouth at the slight friction it provided.
Levi took this as some kind of challenge, grinning and ruthlessly grinding his
ass down Eren’s crotch. Eren gasped and moaned more, eyes drinking in the image
of Levi’s mostly naked body lavishing his own. His erection was prominent
through the briefs he had donned and without a thought Eren reached out and
trailed a palm over the bulge, the shuddering groan he earned in response
adding to the pressure in his own pants.
Eren took the initiative and flipped them over a little clumsily, taking a
moment to shuck his jeans and launch himself onto Levi, their bodies moving on
instinct against each other. He bit down on Levi’s shoulder and lost himself in
the sensation of the dark hickeys being sucked into his neck.
Their legs were tangled together and they both simultaneously gasped as their
cocks slid together in a way that made every inhibition Eren had ever held flee
his mind. They grinded against each other shamelessly, Levi scraping his
manicured nails down Eren’s shoulder blades and torso in a way that made him
throw his head back and hiss in pleasure.
Eren could feel the coil in his gut tightening and he claimed Levi’s mouth with
his own, furiously moving his hips as he came with a moan, which was partially
a garbled string of profanities and Levi’s name. He felt Levi stiffen beneath
him and a second gush of fluids between them.
He flopped onto his side, orgasm-weary and feeling the best he had in months.
Levi chuckled darkly and kissed his forehead before standing up to leave the
room.
Eren grabbed his hand and looked at him, a thousand words trapped in his wide
eyes.
“I’m not leaving you to sleep alone, brat. Just getting something to clean us
up.”
He gestured at his stomach which was slick with semen, and Eren glanced down at
his own which was similarly doused before blushing. His eyes slid closed for a
few moments until Levi re-entered and chucked at flannel at him.
Eren wiped the smeared stripes of cum off his torso before setting the flannel
on the floor beside the bed and allowing Levi to envelop him in an embrace. He
shuffled around to face Levi, absorbing the tranquil expression he wore and how
goddamn sexy his hair looked when it was hopelessly mussed up as opposed to
it’s usual combed demeanor.
"I lied." Levi mumbled, "that was the real initiation into the queer club, and
you passed with flying colours."
Eren snorted with laughter and kissed Levi once more before letting sleep
overwhelm him, arms still wrapped around the smaller man’s hips.
***** You Shook Me All Night Long *****
Chapter Notes
     Everyone's favourite idiot gets his shit together a little :)
     Thank you for reading and I hope you have as much fun reading this as
     I did writing it!
EREN’S POV
Eren woke up in an unfamiliar room. He panicked a little before flailing onto
his side and coming nose to nose with a sleeping Levi. Then the memories of the
previous night rolled over him like a wave and Eren understood where he was.
The bed was warm and he scooted closer to Levi, unwilling to ruin the moment of
domestic bliss just yet. His shuffling awoke Levi, who groaned a little before
slinging his forearm over his eyes.
“Fuck, what time is it?”
Eren checked his watch. “Half past eleven apparently.”
Levi hummed and tugged Eren a little closer, pressing a kiss against his temple
and indulging himself in a moment of unabashed affection before getting up and
pulling his comforter with him in a cape-like fashion, before dragging Eren up
with him.
“You,” he said whilst poking Eren in the bare chest, “need a goddamn shower my
friend. Bathroom’s across the hall, and the shower itself isn’t a time machine
in terms of complexity. You can use my shampoo and shit. I’ll go make us some
breakfast.”
He kissed Eren again, this time on the mouth before swooping out of the door
and off down the hall, somehow making briefs and a comforter look majestic.
Eren stood for a moment, the wave of remembrance still lapping at his ankles.
He and Levi had.. sex? He didn’t think that quite coined it, since no things
had gone in any, uh, other things.
He shook it off and went for a shower, stripping out of his boxers and hopping
into the cubicle. Levi had lied again, the shower was an absolute fucking
riddle to turn on but Eren managed it, washing his hair and lathering his skin
with soap that smelt like Levi’s always did; a combination of liquorice, cedar
and vanilla.
He stepped out of the shower once he was done washing, and glanced in the
mirror.
Oh fuck.
Eren’s neck was glazed in purple and red lovebites, and if he twisted he could
tell his back was a red lattice from where Levi had raked his nails down it. He
didn’t mind that much, beyond the obvious jibes he’d get from his friends he
almost felt good that everyone would know he was claimed, souvenirs from his
night with Levi were something he didn’t mind at all.
Besides the way they looked, a shiver ran down his spine when he thought about
the sensation of getting them, which his mind intrinsically linked to the
feeling of Levi desperate and solid against him.
Eren quelled those thoughts and pulled his boxers back on, balling up the towel
and pushing it through his damp hair. He had planned on making a beeline for
Levi’s room and putting some clothes on before he embarrassed himself, but the
smell once he entered the hall deterred him.
From the kitchenette emanated the heart-stopping odour of pancakes, coffee and
cigarette smoke. Pretty much all of Eren’s favourite things, plus Levi was over
there. Thoughts of getting dressed or whatever totally fled his mind as he
walked into the kitchenette and grabbed one of the steaming mugs of coffee on
the side and sidled round to hook his chin over Levi’s head and his arms around
his bare waist. He admired the slew of tattoos which stretched their way across
the smaller man’s back before he began talking.
“You lied to me, it’s easier to get wasted on mouthwash than use that shower,
and believe me I had to try that once.”
“You’re a fucking retard, Eren.” Levi sighed, flipping the final pancake off
the pan and onto a plate.
“It wasn’t my fault! It was either that or hold hands with Jean non-stop for a
day, and back then I couldn’t even spent ten minutes around him without trying
to stab him with something or another..”
Levi chuckled at that and leant back into his embrace, sudden tenderness
seeping in his obsidian eyes. Eren felt a jolt of attachment to him he had
never felt for anyone before, and blurted out what had been bugging him since
the previous day.
“Levi, am I your boyfriend?”
He immediately felt like a total dick, but Levi took it in his stride, turning
around to look Eren in the eye.
“Well, I feel ‘lovers’ is a little too much of a sordid term for what we have
going, and no-one under the age of forty-two uses the word ‘partners’, so yeah,
I guess ‘boyfriend’ is the most appropriate.”
Eren couldn’t control the grin that spread across his face at those words.
Levi snorted and grabbed his cup of coffee from the counter. “You’re such a
fucking homo Eren, and you’ve never even had a dick in you.”
Eren put it down to his sudden adrenaline-filled happiness that he replied
“Yet” along with a wink.
Levi almost choked to death on his coffee, and Eren almost cracked a rib from
laughing at his reaction.
JEAN’S POV
Jean felt better physically than he had in the last few days. After his rude
rehabilitation at Reiner, Armin and Bertolt’s hands, he had taken the
initiative to take a shower, ventilate his room from the smoky fog that had
overrun it and take off Marco’s sweater. He had ended up sleeping in it, but
cut himself down to only one pill of Ambien.
Baby steps, right?
Jean had decided he couldn’t stomach the awkward car journey in the back of
Bertolt’s truck with Marco and ended up calling Mikasa to ask for a lift
tonight, which was a little awkward and totally pointless because as it
transpired the piece of shit had broken down, stranding Eren at work.
She had amended things by saying that Hanji was picking up Eren and his ‘work
friend’ (she said that in a way he could only assume was meant to infer
inverted commas rather than overprotective sibling venom), and she could give
him a lift out too.
Emotionally, Jean was still tied up in painful knots. He didn’t know what to
say to anyone to explain his absence from their usual day-to-day hanging out,
let alone how he was going to explain himself to Marco.
He resisted the urge to pop a pill to soothe his nerves, instead lighting a
cigarette and watching some Magnum PI which was totally failing to capture his
attention. It felt odd to put time into his appearance after an extended period
of not giving a shit but he persevered, hopping into his leather pants and a
Pink Floyd t-shirt.
He took a moment to adjust his lip piercings before applying a little gel to
his hair, making the two-tones contrast even more than usual. Jean felt much
more himself now, ashing the last of his cigarette and half dying from fright
when the frantic beeping of a car horn began outside.
He decided on donning his Doctor Martens, he had got a pair after Armin’s
constant insistence that they were a big deal in the UK, and they looked badass
besides. Grabbing his patched denim jacket he left the house, almost forgetting
his keys and cigarettes in anticipation.
Hanji had a decent-sized campervan, she was driving and waved enthusiastically
to him. Erwin, sat beside her, gave Jean his usual charming smile and gestured
for him to get in the back.
He obliged, sliding open the side door and hopping in. Already inside were
Annie and Mikasa.
“Yo.” He muttered in greeting, sitting down beside Annie.
“Hey horseface” she said in reply, offering him the last two tokes on her
cigarette as a commiseration for her name-calling.
Mikasa called up front, “hey guys, we’ve got to pick up Eren and Levi now then
we can head out.”
Jean focused on not throwing up. His stomach felt like a whirl of anxiety,
first they had to get Jaeger and whoever the other person was, then he would be
seeing Marco.
No backing out now, no avoiding him. The drive passed him by in a haze of
Mikasa and Annie’s wordless conversations and his own heartbeat hammering away
in his ears.
They pulled up somewhere downtown, and the door slid open again.
Jaeger got in, as did the resident dwarf apparently. Jean hadn’t lost enough of
his spirit to not comment on that.
“Wow, are you like a really buff girl scout?”
The guy started fucking daggers at him. Honestly, if a pair of eyes could slice
you in half, these would be the ones.
“I’m Levi,” he said, voice surprisingly gravelly. “Eren’s boyfriend.”
Jean’s whole universe did an abrupt one-eighty. Holy shit. Jaeger was blushing
like a twelve-year-old confronted by his crush as Levi slung an arm around his
shoulders.
“Jesus Jaeger! You could’ve given us a little heads-up that you batted for the
other team!” He exclaimed. Eren’s eyes flashed, not to be outdone.
“You’re one to talk Kirstein, how’s Marco when you aren’t gagging on his dick?”
Jean spluttered and began to say something not-very-flattering about the size
of Eren’s manhood when a quiet baritone cut across him.
“You were right Eren, he does remarkably resemble a horse.”
Jean aborted mission and just hung his head in his hands. Fucking Jaeger and
his rude midget boyfriend.
Mikasa was sat rigidly beside him, he eyes boring holes into Levi.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” the fucking pygmy commented.
“Just so we’re clear-”
“Oh Mikasa no,” Eren tried to interrupt.
“-if you hurt my little brother, I can guarentee they won’t find the body.”
Levi leant back and smirked at her, nodding imperceptibly. Jean was pretty sure
it was just a crazy-neurotic people thing because he never could pull off the
‘communicating without words thing’. Well he did with Marco, but then he didn’t
even know that his every action was screaming ‘I love you’, ‘never leave me’,
you know, cool bro things like that.
The van came to halt, and then Jean knew it was officially crunch time. Time to
bite the fucking bullet, c’mon Kirstein. Mikasa slid the door open and hopped
out, sounds of Bertolt’s boombox filtering into the cramped space.
The others all filed out and Annie fixed Jean with a hard look. “Get a move on
idiot, problems don’t fix themselves.” He took one last bracing breath and got
out of the campervan.
The scene before him was one he was used to, people taking a break from dancing
to AC/DC to greet the newcomers, handing out beers and pulling them into semi-
sober hugs. Bertolt and Reiner were bopping their heads along to the music as
they chatted to Annie
‘Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come but I
was already there..’
Ymir and Krista were cuddled together as usual, flanking Armin who was already
chatting to Erwin. Levi and Eren were cracking open beers and talking to
Connie, who was being pestered by Sasha to come dance with her.
‘Cause the walls started shaking, the earth was quaking, my mind was aching,
and we were making it’
Then Jean’s vision tunnelled. Marco. He was there, walking to stand beside
Bertolt, already laughing as he overheard a snippet of their conversation.
Jean’s mind turned to paste.
Marco looked tired, and a little pale, but he was still himself- perfect and
freckled and always a little taller than Jean no matter how platformed his
shoes were.
He stared unashamedly and caught Marco’s eye. Marco’s face dropped into an
expression of astonishment, then fury. “What the FUCK have you been playing
at?” He shouted. All other talk ceased. Every pair of eyes was on them and Jean
felt rooted to the ground. His mouth was filled with cotton wool.
“I’m talking to you asshole, what is your fucking issue? So I’m gay and you
disappear off the fucking radar for days at a time? Ignore my calls? Don’t
answer the door when I’m sat there at midnight knocking like a desperate little
idiot?” With every demanding question Marco got closer, anguish and hurt
burning in his dark eyes.
“Marco, I-” Jean’s voice cracked beyond redemption. They were nose to nose at
this point. All he could see and smell was Marco and it felt better than seeing
his mom after a shitty day at school as a kid, or the feeling of liberation
when he got a piercing done, or the rush of pride when he aced a game at the
arcade. He wanted this feeling to last forever.
Whilst he was thinking all this internally, he realised externally Marco was
still yelling at him.
“-and I just can’t do it Jean, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.” His
voice then dropped to a murmur, meant only for Jean’s ears. “I can’t pretend I
don’t have feelings for you.”
His voice wavered and he moved away and Jean decided that the time was now. No
more pussyfooting around and messing things up, he couldn’t let this golden
opportunity evade him. He grabbed Marco’s shoulder, who had already turned his
back to him. Before he could analyse everything he was about to do, Jean moved
with the rush in his ears, spinning Marco around and grabbing him by the collar
and pulling him in close.
“So don’t pretend.” Jean growled before brashly crushing Marco’s mouth with his
own, pouring every emotion he couldn’t contain into the kiss; all of his
regret, his longing, his passion, his want, his fucking misery when Marco
wasn’t there, and his love went crashing into the movement of his mouth,
praying that it could convey how much he desperately needed Marco.
Marco froze from a moment, before kissing him back fiercely. One of his hands
pushed into the small of Jean’s back and the other into the darker part of his
hair. He consoled Jean, tongue winding into his mouth and brushing against his
in a way that was almost sweet.
'..Yeah you took me, yeah you shook me, all night long!'
They only broke apart when Connie coughed pointedly.
***** Stone Cold Rhymin' *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry about the wait guys, unfortunately sometimes having a social
     life clashes with writing fanfiction :(
     but never fear, here is the latest chapter- as always hope you enjoy!
CONNIE’S POV
Connie thought he knew the meaning of the word ‘tension’. He had been in plenty
of uncomfortable situations before- like seeing Hannah at school the week after
their ill-fated tryst in Jean’s basement, or the time he had to seduce Annie
for a dare. (Spoiler, she shut him down pretty much off the bat with a knee to
the ballbag.)
However some next level shit was going down that night in the desert, Jean and
Marco locked eyes and then Marco started yelling. Connie had never seen Marco
yell before, fuck, Connie had never even seen Marco angry before. He had
snapped at him that night in The Pirripin, but this was insane, purple-faced,
oh-jesus-his-lungs-are-gonna-explode-soon yelling.
Connie almost wanted someone to intervene when they were nose-to-nose. Not him
obviously, because he was approximately five foot nothing and would get twatted
upside the head in seconds, having no effect in diffusing the situation and
embarrassing himself thoroughly in the process.
So Marco kept shouting and Jean continued his lemon-like stance of staring at
him, wide-eyed and like his mind had warped to light-speed. Connie’s gut
swooped horrifyingly when Jean seized Marco by the collar.
Oh shit, oh shit he’s going to fucking headbutt him oh christ no guys no-
His internal panic was interrupted when Jean didn’t headbutt Marco, but rather
aggressively kissed him. Like aggressively. Marco’s eyes bugged for a few
seconds before he started kissing him back with fire to match.
Connie’s jaw dropped like someone had attached an anvil to the stubble on his
chin, (which he had, by the way, fuck you Eren.) And there they made out,
everyone too shell-shocked by the abrupt turnaround of the situation to react.
As the final chords of that lame rock song which Reiner loved petered out,
Connie decided to take action.
Well, not action-action. He just cleared his throat loud enough that the
canoodling pair broke apart, looking more than a little flustered. There was a
pregnant pause as everyone stared, Marco stared at Jean a little awed, and Jean
just gave Marco an abashed little smile. That would have been sweet if not for
the confusing homo-erotic circumstances.
Thank the lords above for Reiner and his poor external filter once he had a few
beers down his neck. “It’s about fucking time!” He exclaimed from beside
Bertolt, who he then elbowed and said “Mr Bertl-Turtle, your aqueous highness
owes me ten dollars. I told you there was homo going on in the Jean-Marco
department.”
Bertolt shrugged and rummaged for his wallet and the rest of the party
recovered from their gay-induced stupification.
“Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming!” Connie blurted, and Sasha
nodded before cat-calling out, “Woohoo! Looks like the horse finally found a
cowboy!”
The cheering caught on and Jean blushed to a blood-vessel rupturing vermillion
before pulling Marco towards him again and pulling him into an embrace,
wrapping his tan arms around his waist and burying his face in the crook of his
neck. “You guys are dicks!” He groaned against Marco’s skin, who to his credit
just giggled and fixed his paler arms around Jean’s back.
Quickly the group shrugged off their surprise, going back to their
conversations and cracking open more drinks, Connie was close enough to hear
Marco talk when the couple disentangled themselves. “I am still intensely
pissed at you Kirstein, but right now that is buried under me being fucking
deliriously happy so let’s go get drunk with those dicks and be nauseatingly
gleeful in our honeymoon period.”
Jean clearly agreed with gusto as he pulled Marco in for another kiss, this
time languid and less angst-driven than before. Connie then diverted his
attention away from the homo over there to the homo that Sasha was engaged in
conversation with. Eren and his new boyfriend had their arms around each other,
and Connie was suddenly very suspicious that his gaydar was a busted
instrument.
Okay he could tell that Krista and Ymir were doing the do from about two
million miles away, like honestly if he was chilling on a deck chair located on
the sun and they were together on Neptune, he would be about to pick up those
lesbian vibes.
Reiner he hadn’t had the foggiest about, besides a lingering recollection that
since the ill-fated romance with that mega-bitch Hitch he never hooked up with
any girls anywhere, or generally talked to anyone much who wasn’t Bertolt. Jean
and Marco were always a little too intensely bromantic, but Eren was a total
wild card.
Then again, Eren’s new man-friend was very pretty in a way that even Connie
could appreciate and he was confident that he was hetero-normative and not
really into anyone besides the girl that was excitedly talking to said man-
friend at that moment about the latest Judge Dredd installation.
Connie wasn’t really into the ultra-nerdy shit that her and Bertolt yakked
about non-stop, but even he could dig Dredd. However it didn’t seem a good time
to butt in so he shot Eren a grin and a fare-thee-well nod before hanging a
left. He dodged around Mikasa and Annie who were having one of their fervent
wordless conversations and headed towards the cooler.
As always it had totally failed at keeping it’s contents cool, but Connie
helped himself to a beer anyway, absently tapping his foot along to the beat of
a new song. It was Young MC, and boy oh fucking boy did Connie love Young MC.
He meandered his way back to Sasha and the others, rapping along to the beat
under his breath. “I try to sit down so I can take some notes, but I can't read
what the kid next to me wrote, and if that wasn't enough to make my mornin'
complete, as I try to get up I find there’s gum on my seat”
Connie smiled to himself, oh yeah, he was still mad at spitting bars. Once he
had a few more drinks in him he’d challenge Sasha to a rap-battle for sure. He
had recovered from his previous stuttering and bumbling around her to just
occasionally blushing when she totally violated his personal space and only
mooning a little when she did something so unbelievably Sasha that it made his
stomach screw up in a way which made his whole body feel warm with affection
for her.
He was basically okay with unrequited love, so long as he still had her, he
figured it would all be okay. Connie plucked up the courage to introduce
himself to Eren’s pretty and very very intimidating boyfriend. “Yo, I’m
Connie.” he said with a smile and outstretched hand.
“Levi.” Wow, this dude means business when it comes to deadpan, Connie thought,
but appreciated it when he extracted himself from Eren to shake his hand and
nod. Sasha tugged at Connie’s sleeve, stretching her eyes wide and pouting in a
way that he knew that she fuckin’ knew meant she could wheedle anything out of
him.
“Connieee, I wanna play truth or dare! Or have a rap-off or-” Connie cut off
her there with a poke to the cheek. “No way am I pissed enough to rap with you
just yet, so, truth or dare anyone?”
He raised his voice a little at the end and was met with a myriad of cheers and
a groan from Jean.
“Aw don’t be like that horse-face, this is no time to be a pussy!” Eren teased,
eliciting a grinding of teeth from Jean. Oh brilliant, now those fucking
buffoons are going to be trying to one-up each other all night, Connie thought.
The extended gang organized themselves into a dilapidated circle. Reiner argued
it was more of an oval, but was ignored in favour of the game pressing ahead.
“Alright!” Erwin announced with relish, “who’s gonna start?”
Connie glanced around the oval, circle, fuck it, whatever. No one looked keen
to volunteer, so he decided to bite the bullet and show them all up. “I’ll do
it” he called to no one in particular, waving his rapidly emptying beer to
illustrate his point, “dare me up, losers!”
A moment of confederacy raced around the circle before Armin called out “You’ve
gotta do a body shot! Off.. Reiner!” Cheers erupted and Reiner hung his head,
but Connie was the undisputed King of Dares thank you very much, and a little
thing like licking a person wasn’t going to deter him from his throne.
He sucked the streak of lemon gin off Reiner’s abdomen with little complaints,
even shooting him a salacious wink afterwards which caused another round of
cheers and Jean to call out “It’s catching guys! Connie’s the next one who
turns!”
Connie flipped him off and then it went to Hanji who was sat on his left. She
also picked dare, and because she was batshit crazy agreed to removing an
article of Annie’s clothing with her teeth. She was also batshit talented, as
she proved by single-toothedly removing Annie’s belt and skinny jeans.
Next it was Marco, who was too sweet and meek to pick anything but truth. As it
transpired he wasn’t so meek as he admitted he had worn lingerie before and
Connie tried to pretend he couldn’t see Jean mentally picturing that before
casting a look over Marco like he wanted to eat him up there and then.
Jean picked dare as always, and at the demand of some devious sod was
challenged to dirty-talk someone. He shamelessly pulled Marco onto his lap and
began muttering things in his ear which made him progressively blush more and
more until his mouth dropped clean open and he squeaked. This caused another
round of raucous laughter, but Connie didn’t miss Marco clamber off Jean’s lap
and shift in a way which he knew was optimal for shielding boners.
The game progressed thusly, the main highlights being Mikasa and Bertolt
swapping underwear, Armin having to spend the rest of the game in Erwin’s lap
and Levi giving Eren a suspiciously expert strip-tease which even Connie had to
admit was pretty hot to watch.
It came to Eren’s turn and he made eye contact with Jean. The stakes amped up a
little, childhood rivalries never really forgotten despite the fact they were
basically friends now. He was challenged to lick Bertolt’s foot, heel to toe.
He fucking did it, man. Cheers were given and he mockingly offered Levi a kiss
who simply rolled his eyes and flicked him in the side of the head.
Finally the game had come almost full-circle and it was Sasha’s turn. Connie
may have been the King of Dares, but Sasha was his Dare Queen- a woman totally
without fear or dignity. As per usual she opted for dare and Reiner, the evil,
vengeful bastard that he was called out “Give a lap dance to.. Connie!”
Connie’s blood turned to fire and ice all at once. Okay mostly he wanted Sasha
because she was awesome and funny and his best friend, but that did not at all
negate the fact that he thought she was insanely hot. If he popped a stiffy
now, he was going to be right in the shit. Sasha shot him a grin which probably
wasn’t supposed to be sultry, but indubitably was.
He was sat with his legs splayed and his arms propping him up so she wasted no
time in straddling his waist, unclasping her hair and tossing it around her
shoulders whilst running her hands down her neck. Everyone whooped and
whistled, and Connie knew he should be cracking up and wiggling his eyebrows at
her but he was too fucking transfixed to do a goddamn thing right now.
Sasha then stirred her hips a little, causing friction to run down Connie’s
nether regions and her tank top to ride up just a little, showing her tanned
hips and the green lace at the top of her panties. Connie tried to think of
everything gross in the universe. Sewage, grandparents, his brother’s
housekeeping abilities, but nothing could distract him from Sasha in his lap,
now actually grinding on him, running her hands down his thighs and grinning
impishly at him.
Connie felt like he was going to fucking combust with the effort of not
succumbing to his erection and/or dragging Sasha into the most needy and
animalistic kiss he had ever given anyone. After a few more seconds she giggled
again and hopped off, grabbing his head under her arm and pecking him on the
temple before grabbing her beer and acting like the whole universe hadn’t just
imploded.
REINER’S POV
Okay, so Reiner did feel a little bad about daring Sasha to tease Connie like
that, but the stricken look on Connie’s face as it happened kind of made it
worthwhile. Seriously, the boy had a face like he had just witnessed the second
coming. Or maybe it was the first coming, in his pants that was.
Even Reiner’s brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t so bad he would say that out loud,
so he stifled his smirk and let the game roll on. Next it was Connie, who still
looked pretty discomposed. He went for dare, because not even shell-shock could
discourage the self-proclaimed ‘King of Dares’. Reiner kept his mouth shut for
this one, but nodded along when Levi said Connie had to play a round of spin
the bottle.
He ended up making out with Hanji for a few seconds, which everyone cheered at-
except Sasha, Reiner noticed. He filed that away for a later time, before the
game moved on. Things didn’t get interesting until his turn, when he had to
(unoriginally) spin the bottle. He did so, fairly drunk so not worried about
who it landed on.
It was Bertolt, who went beet-red and panicked for a few seconds before Reiner
pulled him in for a kiss. It only lasted a matter of seconds, but Reiner felt
an odd little rush from the messy meeting of tongues and lips. He figured he
needed to get laid sharpish.
Then it was Bertolt himself’s turn, and he deliberated a while before choosing
‘truth’. Erwin immediately arched his eyebrow and asked if he’d ever thought of
anyone in this very circle in a sexual context, with Armin still nestled in his
lap. Bertolt sweated some more before nodding and refusing to say any more on
the matter.
Reiner did a little more filing and the game dissolved soon afterwards, dancing
re-starting and Hanji challenging various idiots into doing shots with her.
Ymir and Levi just about kept pace, but Jean, Eren and Connie were played for
chumps and Bertolt had learned better than to try to compete with the bizarre
bespectacled woman.
Reiner passed on the competitive drinking, sipping lemon gin with Annie and
Mikasa, who were surprisingly lively once they had a bit to drink. They
appeared rather a motley crew, Annie still hadn’t bothered to put the jeans
Hanji had stripped her of back on, and Mikasa was only wearing Bertolt’s boxers
on her lower half, which were in her defense like a pair of cotton shorts on
her.
At about three AM everyone was tuckered the fuck out, and Krista and Erwin who
had only sipped at beers the whole evening dropped everyone at their various
homes; Jean and Marco to Jeans (“Oo-er” Eren commented loudly as they vacated
the campervan), Mikasa, Eren and Levi were all staying in the Jaeger household
and as usual Reiner and Bertolt slumped back into his place, giggling like
fools and Bertolt taking out several chairs and coat-stands with his unwieldy
long limbs.
They worked as a team to scale the stairs, Reiner’s strength and Bertl’s
determination pulling them through eventually. Collapsing into bed, Reiner
couldn’t be assed to make up Bertolt’s mattress for him, so just wrapped his
arms around his gangly frame and pulled him into his bed, not releasing his
grip even after he had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
***** Rocket Man *****
Chapter Notes
     My apologies for the late update, the last few days have been hella
     hectic for me :(
     This chapter is more filler than killer, but I hope you enjoy the
     fluff enough to carry yourselves over until I get the ball rolling
     again with tomorrow's update- as always, thanks for your time :)
     EDIT: I decided to combine chapters 14 and 15 because they're both
     the same time frames and pretty short, so enjoy the new and improved
     chapter 14! I promise I'll be getting back into my rhythm of
     regularly updating tomorrow, apologies everyone x x x
REINER’S POV
Reiner automatically woke up at 10:30, his internal clockwork as precise as
ever despite his hangover. He woke up to a face full of fabric, alarmed until
he realised he had fallen asleep with his face smushed into Bertolt’s chest,
and the fabric was infact Bertolt’s cotton tank top.
(Reiner refused to call them ‘wife beaters’, he thought it sounded shifty as
fuck and besides that a rude stereotype)
He lay there for a little, trying to asitane whether he had drooled in his
friend’s abdomen or not. He hoped for not because it was kind of embarrassing,
although Bertolt probably wouldn’t give a shit.
Reiner could suss out from their position that they had fallen asleep spooning,
but through the course of the night Bertolt had flipped into his other side and
Reiner had somehow shuffled downwards into this rather effeminate position of
cuddling.
He felt a little awkward, but not so much so that he felt the need to move. It
was warm, comfortable and Bertolt smelled of bonfire, gin, and for some reason,
caramel. Their knees were trapped together in a bizarre gridlock of Bertolt’s
absurdly long limbs and his own muscular legs which had wound themselves
together during their sleep.
But, bygones being bygones, Reiner’s head hurt and his limbs ached faintly and
this was a very cosy position so he didn’t want to move just yet. Thinking
about it, this was probably the most intimate thing to happen to Reiner since
he and Hitch had split up in February.
Their relationship had been a volatile one at the best of times, Hitch was mean
and callous once you got to know her, and he quickly tired of her snarky and
indifferent ways. The sex was alright though in Reiner’s memory, and since then
he had only made out with a few people at parties and bars.
In fact, he had danced with a woman and they briefly got to first base when
they were at The Pirripin the previous Sunday, but that was probably
counteracted by the fact he had been grinded on by a fair few men that night
too.
Bertolt stirred a little in his sleep then woke up, immediately yelping in
surprise at Reiner’s close proximity. Reiner just winced as the high-pitched
sound made his building headache twinge a little and poked him in the collar
bone.
“Morning to you too Bert-Turtle.”
Reiner hadn’t noticed that Bertolt had his arm slung over his hip and his hand
curled around the nook of his back until he removed it, and he made another
indignant noise at the sudden caress of cool air which rolled over the now-
exposed patch of skin. Bertolt used the very same hand to cuff Reiner around
the back of the head.
“Don’t call me that, penis.” He retorted, before sitting up a little and
fishing a cigarette out of the crushed packet which had been in his back
pocket. Bertolt lit it and grabbed the blue plastic ashtray from Reiner’s
nightstand, which he kept in here in anticipation for Bertolt staying over
every other night.
He balanced the ashtray in his lap, and Reiner decided to dislodge himself from
Bertolt’s chest in favour of slumping on his stomach next to him.
“So, Jean and Marco huh?” He said, reaching out to take a drag on Bertolt’s
cigarette who obliged.
Bertolt considered for a moment before speaking. “I’m happy for them, I think
it’s a good thing they’re working things out. Also,” he slapped Reiner again,
this time on the back, “That is for doing that to Connie! It was funny don’t
get me wrong, but the poor kid looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.”
Reiner giggled for a moment at the memory. “Yeah, I know, I’ll make it up to
him I promise. I just don’t want to see him get all mopey and sad after not
taking the initiative to ask Sasha out himself when she gets a boyfriend.”
“Her and Erwin’s dancing looked pretty intense the other night,” Bertolt
commented.
“Yeah,” Reiner countered, “but did you see her face when Connie had to make out
with Hanji? Poor girl looked like she’d been sucker-punched; I don’t think it’s
a one-sided thing Bertl.”
Bertolt just hummed thoughtfully, losing himself in his thoughts whilst Reiner
dozed. He was pretty exhausted, and wasn’t looking forward to getting up
anytime soon.
An hour or so passed in this fashion, until Bertolt decided he was bored of
thinking and threw off the duvet in favour of going for a shower. Reiner forced
himself into a state of walking dead to the kettle downstairs and made himself
a liberal cup of black coffee, before fixing up one for Bertolt- he liked it
with a splash of milk and two sugars.
Blasphemy that Reiner could and would never understand; he liked his coffee as
dark as Levi’s glares. Then again, Levi was actually a pretty cool guy once you
got chatting to him and he had a few drinks. Last Reiner had seen, he and Eren
was getting uncomfortably handsy in the back of Hanji’s van and Mikasa had been
looking horrified at the prospect of sleeping in a house with them.
Bertolt came downstairs with his hair still moist but clad in jeans and
flannels like usual. Reiner quietly went up and took his own shower, conscious
not to wake his sleeping father who had probably only gotten home from his
night-shift a few hours before.
He washed briskly, feeling the pressure in his temples ease a little at the
soothing touch of warm water. He mentally made plans to sort out his friend’s
shit and he shampooed his hair, deciding he would talk to Sasha about the
Connie issue, albeit subtly- he didn’t want to fuck up the little guy’s chances
or anything.
Reiner also resolved to ask Armin about his intentions with Erwin, they seemed
practically inseparable and Armin had no problem with curling up in the older
man’s lap for a fairly long while last night.
The faucet whined a little as he turned the shower off and headed back
downstairs, his headache abating after the water and coffee had some time to
work their magic.
JEAN’S POV
In his drunken idiocy, Jean had forgotten to close the curtains to his windows.
This meant that when the sun rose the room was flooded with pools of buttery
light, the harsher tones still shrouded by the horizon.
Jean’s eyes flickered open at the sudden influx of light bearing down on them
and he groaned faintly, appreciating the golden coils of sunlight which danced
around the room and extending an arm upwards to trail his fingers through the
column of dust-motes the aureolin intrusion illuminated.
Marco shifted by his side and reached his hand up too, entwining their fingers
together in the streak of shimmering specks.
Jean almost did a double take, before the memories of last night came back to
him in a rush.
The desert, Marco yelling, a game of dares, but most importantly Marco kissing
him back. He felt a sharp thrill in his chest as he remembered that, quickly
pulling their tangled hands towards him and pressing a kiss against Marco’s
knuckle, just to reassure himself it had all really happened.
Marco chuckled sleepily at his sudden display of affection and wound his arms
around Jean’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together and in return kissed
the crook of Jean’s neck. It was a slow, unhurried brush of lips to skin and it
made every inch of Jean crave more.
He spoke, voice muffled from against his collarbone. “Jean Kirstein, you never
cease to amaze me.”
Jean laughed at that, but felt the underlying serious tone in Marco’s voice.
After the revelry and (literally) gay abandon of last night, they needed to
talk things over. He sighed and extracted himself from Marco’s grasp just
enough to look at him in the eye.
His heart did a short jig at how simply perfect Marco looked in the morning
light, the tawny hues elucidating his dark freckles and gentle ochre eyes. Jean
decided that he firmly did not want to fuck this up, so he forced himself to
take a few serene breaths before starting.
“Marco listen, I cocked up really bad. It’s probably pretty obvious by now that
I didn’t run away like that because I’m a homophobic dickbag, it was because I
realised how much I like you and I couldn’t stand the idea of you wanting to be
with someone else.”
Marco obliged and listened, nodding encouragingly.
“I’m sorry for that, it probably pissed you off to no end and I didn’t mean to
be so selfish.”
Jean stopped, not really sure where to take it from there. Luckily Marco was
good with this kind of thing.
“I forgive you Jean, sorry for trying to be cryptic and not just talking
straight with you. Or rather, gay with you.”
Jean snorted at the terrible joke and pushed his face into Marco’s hair,
wanting this moment of simple compassion to never end.
“But I guess the question now is, where do we go from here?”
Jean was a little confused by the question.
“Like I assume a guy like you wouldn’t want to be tied down with a guy like me
and-”
Jean halted that stream of bullshit by pressing his mouth against Marco’s.
“Shut the fuck up,” he said once he had detached from the kiss. “I don’t want
to be tied down with a guy like you, I need to be tied down by you. I want the
whole nine-yards-boyfriend-thing. I want to take you out places and have you
sleep over in my bed, I want to make all our friends uncomfortable by kissing
you excessively in public, I want to take you to Homecoming and if anyone fucks
with us we’ll kick their asses then slow dance to Elton John.”
The words came out in a clumsy mess, stumbling and tripping over one another,
but Marco didn’t seem to care. His eyes were shining as he gazed at Jean like
he had just told him he had figured out how to turn lead into gold or had
finally beat Connie at limbo.
“..Elton John?” Marco asked with a giggle and Jean shook his head.
“Really? That’s all you gleaned from that? Not that I want to date you, but
Elton John?”
Marco just started giggling all over again, and Jean pulled him back into their
embrace, rubbing salt into the wound by crooning some Elton John in his ear.
“I think it's gonna be a long, long time ‘til touch down brings me round again
to find I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh no, no, no”
Marco sighed and called him a dweeb before indulging in another kiss.
“You might suck at singing ballads, but even so I would be honoured to be your
nine-yards Mr Kirstein.”
Jean’s heart fucking sang in a way he had thought it never would again. If he
had a way of expressing it in a way that wasn’t just a sweet pressure in his
ribcage, he was pretty sure it would echo around Madison Square Garden in it’s
sheer velocity.
Instead he just tried to kiss every freckle on Marco’s face, which made him
laugh some more and half-heartedly swat at him, complaining that he couldn’t
get back to sleep with Jean being a little shit like this.
Unfortunately for him, one of Jean’s key talents was ‘being a little shit’, so
he continued on his quest, even climbing on top of Marco and inadvertently
straddling his waist. Just to prove his point Jean left a languid kiss on the
final freckle he could spot, just left of Marco’s adam’s apple. In a fit of
experimentation he dragged his teeth a little across the soft skin, and was
surprised when Marco made a small noise of pleasure at the back of his throat.
He was even more surprised at the little unconscious jerk of Marco’s hips as he
did that, the reflex causing no small amount of friction in the boxer shorts
Jean was clothed in.
Jean’s initial instinct was to rock against Marco until that small noise became
shouting and moaning, but he decided that he wanted to prove something to Marco
and take this slow.
He didn’t want to take Marco’s virginity in a fuck, for the first time ever
Jean wanted to make love to someone. Genuine heartfelt love, because in his
mind Marco deserved no less.
Fighting his hormonal teenage reflexes, he flipped over and settled himself in
Marco’s side, pressing a final kiss to a freckle he previously hadn’t seen
below his earlobe before surrendering to the persuasive tug of sleep.
EREN’S POV
Eren woke up to a ruckus going on downstairs. He just sighed and pushed his
face into the pillow, breathing deeply. The familiar scent of cedar flowed into
his nose, cloying and comforting. Levi's scent. Shit. Levi. Eren sat bolt
upright. Kitchen, ruckus, Levi and Mikasa. His foggy mind did the maths and
immediately hit code red.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.." Eren hissed under his breath, leaping out of bed
and walking a few paces before looking down.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" he chanted again, pulling on a pair of boxers when
he couldn't see his pyjama pants lying in their usual spot.
"Fuck fuck shit balls fuck" Eren repeated like a mantra as he hopped down the
stairs two at a time, praying that when he entered his kitchen he wouldn't find
his boyfriend mutilated, his sister bleeding from any orifices, or both.
He walked in, expecting a stricken war-zone. The room was different, but by
different Eren meant reeking of Lemon Pledge and scrubbed within an inch of
it's life. He and Mikasa didn't live like peasants or anything, but the place
was in as good of a state as it could be expected to be when it's principle
occupants were two teenagers in the middle of their summer vacation.
Levi and Mikasa were sat at the table, reading from an old issue of
Mademoiselle and ashing their respective cigarettes in the same empty mug, the
radio half-heartedly playing in the background.
Eren grunted to indicate his arrival, and they looked up. Out of habit Mikasa
just returned the grunt and gestured towards the coffee machine. Levi actually
stood to gave him a good morning kiss and chuckled at his bedraggled
appearance. Eren scraped a hand through his bedhead, wondering why his hair
couldn't fall perfectly parted like Levi's.
"Morning brat, do you pair of idiots want pancakes or what?"
Eren nodded exuberantly , and even Mikasa's eyes lit up a little at the
prospect of a legitimate cooked breakfast.
Judging by their close stance when he had entered Eren hoped the two most
important people in his life were warming to each other, and would maybe even
start to get on (besides Armin who wasn't an issue, because everyone got on
with Armin)
Eren pressed a furtive kiss to Levi’s cheek as he busied himself getting out
eggs, and then moved to join Mikasa at the table.
“What’s with the citrus stink?”
“Your boyfriend is insane. And an obsessive compulsive cleaner. But mostly
insane.” She replied curtly, sipping on her coffee.
“The place was filthy.” Levi protested flatly, “I’m just doing what any fucking
civilised person would.”
Eren rolled his eyes. “We aren’t that bad you know, only a few dirty dishes
here and there.”
He knew he had said the wrong thing as Levi span around to regard him with a
stern look. “You two are fucking disgraceful you know that? I don’t understand
how even neanderthals could live like this.”
Eren just flipped him off and went to help himself to a coffee.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Mikasa asked, finally crushing the cherry of
her cigarette.
“I’m afraid Eren and I have to be productive members of society today, work at
5 for us.”
Eren groaned and Levi shot him a wink.
“It’s 60’s night though, so if you and your lame little friends want to come
and make our jobs horrible feel free.” Mikasa looked thoughtful for a moment
before nodding pensively.
“I’ll go ring Annie about it now. I’m sure everyone will be interested though.”
With that she exited stage left, leaving Eren to sip at his coffee and Levi to
poke at the batter he had poured into a pan.
“Lame little friends?” Eren enquired “I think you like them, really.”
Levi huffed in response.
“Whatever, brat. Not sure Freckles and Horsey will make it though, they’re
probably busy screwing like rabbits.”
Eren groaned in revulsion at the thought of Jean getting laid. “Ugh, don’t.
Jean and I don’t fight as much now, but I still think he’s the ugliest
motherfucker on this plane of existance.”
Levi just smirked. “I reckon he’s a bottom and all, you know. Freckles is gonna
have a field day on that a-”
Eren cut him off with a scream. He really really did not want to think about
that.
“Shut the fuck up you two!” Mikasa’s voice floated down from her room, where
she was no doubt scheming with Annie.
Levi laughed at that, a real throaty chuckle which made Eren’s insides glow
with affection. He stood up to swaddle the smaller man in his arms, pressing a
kiss to where his shoulder met his collar bone.
“Hey, are those my pyjama pants?” Eren asked with a frown, regarding the navy
fabric brushing against his bare legs.
“Yup.” Levi replied, popping the ‘p’. “If you were wondering this is also a
shirt I found on your floor. You do know there’s such thing as a wardrobe,
right? Or a hamper? Clothes don’t have to go on the floor, amazingly enough.”
Eren rolled his eyes at the sheer sass emanating from the man currently wearing
the cotton pants he had owned since he was fourteen years old and a not-very-
cool Led Zeppelin top, which was a hand-me-down from Reiner after he had a
growth spurt and Eren didn’t.
Mikasa returned to the room, sitting and stretching out her back.
“Annie’s good for tonight, so are Reiner and Bertl. They’ll ring around to
figure out who else is coming.”
“Cool,” Eren replied, sauntering over and taking a cigarette from her packet,
which didn’t escape her notice.
“You know Eren, at some point you are going to have to stop being such a
fucking moocher.”
“Tell that to Levi,” Eren responded, voice muffled by his attempts to light his
smoke. “He’s stealing my stylish attire!”
Levi just gave him the finger and brought over three plates laden with
pancakes.
He ate daintily, a vast juxtaposition to Eren who had the typical man-approach
of trying to shove everything on the plate down his throat at once. Levi pushed
back the lewd connotations of that sentence as he thought it, and focused on
eating his own breakfast.
CONNIE’S POV
Connie spent his morning in a state of total disarray. Every nerve in his body
had been running on ‘hypersensitive’ since the ill-fated lapdance he had
recieved last night and his body ached for relief, but he felt like jerking off
over his best friend would be the last straw.
Actually getting himself off over Sasha would be the cut-off point for being
able to go back to normal if this didn’t work out. He lay in bed until twelve,
resisting the urge to move or think.
Movement would bring about friction to his irritating case of morning wood, and
every coherent string of thought he managed always ended up in the same
destination; Sasha straddling his waist. Sasha grinding herself into his
crotch. Sasha, Sasha, Sasha, Sasha.
Connie subconciously reached for his dick, and practically whimpered at the
sensation of palming himself through the shorts he wore. He thought fuck it,
whatever. Some male he was if getting his rocks off over someone meant he
couldn’t look them in the eye afterwards.
Ten minutes later, Connie felt like a very bad person. Although the pressure in
his balls had eased, so hey, you win some you lose some. He cleaned himself up
just in time, as the soiled tissues landed in the bin the phone started
ringing.
Leo had been and gone back to Trost, so the responsibility of getting the phone
was therefore bequeathed to Connie.
“Yo, Springer residence.” He quipped as he answered, seriously hoping it wasn’t
Sasha. It was a little too soon to cope with that.
Luckily some deity somewhere, probably the patron saint of sad horny teenagers
decided to take pity on him. Bertolt’s voice sounded through the phone.
“Hey Connie, don’t suppose you wanna do something tonight? It’s 60’s night down
at The Pirripin, and apparently that’s a laugh.”
Connie considered for a moment. His hangover wasn’t so bad, and he still had
money saved from working at the garage during their spring break, so a night
out dancing to The Beatles and drinking copious amounts didn’t sound like a bad
thing to have on the agenda.
“Yeah, yeah sure.. Meet at Annie’s at seven? As per usual?”
“Uh huh, could you ring Jean to ask him if he wants to come? Okay thanks, bye!”
Connie sighed and dialled Jean’s number, hoping he had won the pool Eren had
set up last night. He had bet that Marco and Jean would be doing the deed that
night, owing to their very drunk states and the fact that now Jean would
probably settle for nothing less than the most romantic screw possible.
Marco picked up the phone.
“H-hello?”
“Heyyy there Marco!” Connie jibed, “nice morning? No uh, ‘frickle-frackle’?”
He could practicaly feel his blush eminating down the line.
“No! No Connie.”
“Just asking! So, do you two lovebirds fancy coming down to a 60’s night at The
Pirripin? Tonight?”
He could vaguely hear the exchange going on in the Kirstein household.
“-onight? Yeah sure why not.” Definitely Jean’s voice there.
Aaand definitely gross kissing noises there. Great.
“Hey, Connie?” Marco again. “Jean and I would love to come.”
Connie resisted the urge to make a very immature joke.
“Okay cool; Annie’s at seven. Bye!”
He hung up without adieu, the loved-up pair making him feel lonely.
He spent the rest of the day dicking around doing nothing in particular, taking
his usual route to Annie’s. Connie really wished he could get an opportunity to
properly figure things out with Sasha; but he never really knew how.
Was it best to make a bold gesture, like Jean? Something dramatic and romantic?
Or would he be better off just explaining everything calmly and rationally when
they were alone? Should he write her a sonnet, or
Connie had no fucking clue. But then again, he wasn’t used to feeling much of
an emotional range beyond ‘happy’, ‘bored’ and ‘stoned’. By the time he had
arrived at Annie’s almost everyone was there. Armin was sat talking with Annie
and Mikasa about something that they probably found facinating but Connie
didn’t get, Jean was sat in Marco’s lap, curled into the slightly taller
teenager’s chest and talking with Bertolt.
Reiner and Sasha were on the other sofa, probably talking about twelve-sided
dice or Batman or something. Sasha looked a little confused, and he expression
didn’t clear when Connie entered with an exuberant “Yo all, who are we waiting
for?”
“You, fucking idiot.” Jean retorted.
“Oh Jean, clearly love’s tenderness hasn’t rubbed off on you yet. Although
looks like something else might have done some ‘rubbing off’” Connie teased,
shooting a wink to Marco who blushed.
“Shut it cue ball.” Jean snapped, although he go a little red too.
Connie chuckled and blew him a kiss before everyone stood to vacate the
Leonhart premises and crowd into Bertolt’s truck. To Connie’s confusion, Sasha
didn’t sit on the floor with him. She sat in Eren’s usual seat beside Marco and
stared out at nothing in particular, looking conflicted.
Connie decided she was probably just on her period and not feeling so good,
(they were best friends for fuck’s sake, Connie was under no illusions about
the true nature of her ‘feminine problems’), and decided to distract himself by
bothering Jean for the journey.
***** Babylon's Burning *****
Chapter Notes
     A special Levi POV because @love_is_in_the_jager likes how I write
     him and I probably wouldn't still be writing this without them <3
     Hope you like it guys~
LEVI’S POV
Pulling into the parking lot of The Pirripin, Levi felt the best he had in a
long time. The afternoon sun had abated a little leaving the air warm and
sweet, and his slender hand was wrapped in Eren's.
When Levi had first met Eren, he had thought him a typical teenage douchebag,
annoying and hotheaded and incompetent. But after some time in his company,
Levi had come to see him for the person he was beneath the brash exterior. In
reality Eren was sweet, kind, and a little shy at times.
Glancing at him now, Levi could appreciate the way the afternoon light caught
the aquamarine of Eren's eyes, igniting it into a spectrum of turquoise tones.
Oh yeah, Eren was hella cute. Levi wasn’t a shallow guy or anything, but he had
to admit that tanned skin and tousled dark hair was a weakness of his.
He braked and reversed into his usual space slowly, not wanting the feeling of
general unadulterated happiness to get away from him. After all Levi had done,
seen and simply let happen, finally something good had blundered it’s way into
his shitty life; casting celeste light over his future.
Levi had felt less inclined to depression, violence and felt the hooked tug in
his gut to snort a line just to calm himself down more and more infrequently.
He remember the only thing he’d ever gleaned from physics AP classes- for every
force there is an equal and opposite. Eren was his, he could rely on Eren to
keep him balanced.
“C’mon get out of your head moron, we’ve got a 60’s themed party to throw!”
Levi had been so submerged in optimistic thoughts he hadn’t noticed Eren
untangle their hands and get out the car. He was currently leaning in through
Levi’s open window, looking very pleased with himself after shouting in his
ear.
“Alright alright, brat..”
Levi unbuckled his seatbelt, and quickly grabbed Eren’s chin to pull him into a
kiss. He sucked on the younger man’s tongue gently, eliciting a soft moan from
him. Levi ran his hands down from Eren’s face to his shoulders, giving no
indication in their kiss before he pushed him, causing Eren to fall on his ass.
Only then Levi got out of the car, stepping over Eren’s bewildered form and
internally giggling at his surprise.
Nothing entertained Levi more than getting one over on the adorable little
shit.
“You fucking dick!” Eren protested, standing up and brushing gravel from his
ass.
“Aw I’m sorry princess” Levi retorted, smiling a little at the pout which had
spread it’s way across Eren’s face. He looked best when he was worked up, Levi
thought personally.
Eren huffed and walked past him to enter the bar through the back door, bumping
him with his hip as he went by. Levi followed, cheekily brushing the remainder
of the dirt stuck to the seat of Eren’s pants off by the counter.
“Filthy..” He tutted.
Eren’s eyes flashed dangerously, seizing Levi by the hips and shoving him
roughly into the bar.
“Want to see how filthy I can really be?” He growled, right into Levi’s ear.
That guttural tone plus his body pushed aggressively up against Levi’s all
culminated in his brain before rushing down to his dick. Eren was like flicking
a switch sometimes, a sudden shift and he stopped blushing and started acting
like a man who could deliver a hell of a ravishing. Levi fucking loved flicking
that switch.
He began letting his hands trace a definite path from the small of Eren’s back
to his waist, but before he could go any further the doors banged open. Eren
jumped away from him, his reckless abandon quickly being overridden by desire
to not lose his job. Levi sighed and turned around to politely ask Erwin to
fuck off.
It wasn’t Erwin.
The man who entered was fairly tall, with dark brown hair shaved into an
undercut. Levi felt like a dart of poisoned ice had struck him in the chest.
“.. Levi?” the man asked, totally ignoring Eren.
He felt like the whole universe had shifted down a gear. The moments were
viscous and fluid, running together in an uncanny stupor of both Eren and the
newcomer staring at him. He forced out a garbled string of words.
“Oluo, get the fuck out. Fucking leave now, I swear I don’t give a rat’s ass
what bollocks you’ve got yourself in now, I-”
“Levi. Please hear me out,” he began moving towards him, holding his hands out
in a placating gesture.
Levi thought he was going to fucking puke. This was too much, way too much for
him to bear. His new life thundering into the old like a car crash, metal
shrieking and splintering on impact in his ears. Oluo kept talking but Levi
barely heard it.
“We need you back in Shiganshina, it’s all going to shit. All of it. Erd’s lost
it, we don’t know what to do, c’mon boss. We can’t make it without you.”
Levi snapped at being called ‘boss’ again for the first time in two years.
“There’s a fucking reason I changed my number. Fucking moved out of town. I was
done with all of this shit- no, no fucking way are you roping back into the
shitty mess you’ve made of everything.”
He stormed out the way he had came, into the parking lot. Blood and dread
roaring in his head and deafening him. How had they found him? After all the
trouble he went through to disappear? The life he had so tentatively built for
himself was fracturing and collapsing around him. If Oluo could find him, the
Titans could. Levi lashed out at a dumpster, slamming his heel into the flimsy
plastic and relishing in the crunch it made.
His job, his friends, Eren. Eren. Levi felt physically sick at the thought of
any of those scum getting remotely near him. And they would, they would if they
knew where he lived and worked. They could would gladly trash his apartment,
threaten everyone close to him, and he didn’t even want to think about what
they would do to Eren.
He could feel his chest tightening by the second. He couldn’t be here, he
couldn’t break down in a place that left him so vulnerable. Levi could vaguely
hear Eren yelling at Oluo, demanding to know who the fuck he was and why he had
made Levi flip out like that.
He couldn’t bear to hear any more, he couldn’t bear to give Eren the
explanation he deserved. Levi swallowed down the bile which had rose in his
throat like a venomous typhoon, and got in his car. He drove. Not home, not
anywhere in particular; Levi just drove.
JEAN’S POV
Jean didn’t have a particular opinion on the sixties.
“I don’t remember being five years old!” He protested as Marco rolled his eyes
and continued sifting through his clothes, intent on finding something that
channelled the decade of ‘flower power’.
“Whatever Jean, I’m still wearing the tie-dye” Marco retorted, pulling his
sweater over his head to don a particularly garish blue and purple tie-dye t-
shirt. Jean just snorted with derision, turning back the the mirror to muss up
his hair. He didn’t bother with gel, putting in his lip piercings and smearing
a little eyeliner into his waterline.
Marco sidled up behind him and poked the small of his back. “C’mon, it’ll be
fun!”
He was still bare chested, and in the mirror Jean could easily trace the
diverts and ridges of his torso. Marco was in damn good shape actually, not to
say Jean wasn’t. He just wasn’t.. Ab-defined like the taller boy.
Jean sighed dramatically, spinning on his heel to look at Marco square in the
face.
“Fine,” he said, before leaning out to press a kiss against his cheek. “But, I,
am, going, to, whine, all, night.” He punctuated every word with another kiss,
working his way towards Marco’s mouth.
Marco blushed a little, before taking the initiative and kissing Jean on the
lips, sucking gently on the metal hoops he wore through the lower one as he
deepened the kiss. Jean was getting into this something hella, letting his
hands meander down Marco’s bare back and adjusting his stance so his thigh
slotted between Marco’s legs.
“Jean?” Marco said, breaking the kiss.
“Uh huh?”
“You always whine, tonight’s gonna be a breeze for someone of my experience.”
Marco said with a crinkled smile before he ruined Jean’s hair beyond redemption
by pushing an orange sweatband over his brow.
Jean flicked his nose, turning to the mirror to tweak the wretched luminous
thing into something that resembled style. He didn’t have the heart to remove
it though- if Marco wanted him to wear it he was powerless to do any different.
It was unfair really, a little pouting and he was in the palm of his hand. Jean
felt bubbles of happiness stir in his gut regardlessly, he finally had Marco.
If he wanted he could pull him into bed this instant and make out with him, or
tomorrow he could call him up and take him out on a date some place nice. All
Jean could see were beautiful possibilities. At seven they went to Annie’s,
crowding into the front room and vacating as soon as Connie reared his stupid
bald head.
They all bustled into the truck’s wagon, Jean wrapping his arm around Marco
instinctively.
“So, how are the loooooovers?” Connie asked, waggling his eyebrows around like
a douche.
“My boyfriend and I are fine thank you.” Jean replied curtly, grinning a little
at the rush he got from using that word in regard to Marco. “How are you and
your crippling loneliness?”
Connie flipped him off, “fine actually, great. So Marco tell me, who’s the
girlfriend?”
Marco just blushed intensely and it was Jean’s turn to flip him off.
“Shut it Connie! Just because you never get any-”
“And you are getting some?” Sasha interjected, glancing at Connie with a shy
smile on her face.
Jean had noticed she was being unusually quiet and not sitting as she usually
did, astride Connie or the floor. Connie returned the smile with gusto, “yeah
Bodt, you never did give me the green light on the frickle-frackle conundrum”
Marco went even more red in Jean’s arms. “Frickle-frackle? What the fuck
Springer?” Jean retorted, laughing a little despite his chagrin.
“Hey don’t look at me! Your boyfriend coined that phrase whilst very drunk when
you two were doing your ‘no-homo-but-I’m-pining-for-you’ thing!”
Jean stared at Marco with a look of incredulity in his eyes. Marco just hid his
face in Jean’s shoulder, giggling a little. “I was faded as fuck! And Connie
was pining too!”
Connie shot him a glare. “Whatever Marco-Sparko. Cute headband, by the way
Jean.”
Even Armin snorted a little at that, clearly keeping one ear on their
conversation as he chatted with Christa.
“Marco agreed with you on that one” Jean teased, giving Marco a lewd little
wink. He blushed more than Jean had thought humanly possible, and slapped his
side. “But I’m curious now, why was Connie putting on a mopey face?”
Marco shook his head. “Sorry Jean, I am a trustworthy individual.”
Bertolt parked a little way away from the bar, cutting the engine a ten-minute
walk away.
The gang all clambered out, and began weaving their way down the streets
towards the bar, Jean not removing his arm from Marco’s waist as they walked
through the dusky streets, slowly igniting street-lamps casting amber
spotlights over the inky asphalt.
They were just passing a shitty little dive when Jean heard a shout. “Hey look,
it’s the poof-posse!”
Shit. Reiner groaned audibly as Hannes and his moronic baseball team rounded
the corner in front of them. It looked like the douche-patrol was out in full
force tonight, about ten or eleven meatheads followed Hannes, chortling at his
joke like a bunch of fucking idiots.
“Aw, just fuck off would you?” Jean called out, “I have better things to do
tonight than stand here talking to you spastics.”
“Better things to do, like your boyfriend the-” a dark haired boy with the wit
of a doorknob began to call out, before he realised that Jean had his hand
firmly on Marco’s hip. “Wait shit, you’re actually a faggot aren’t you?” He
gasped.
Jean realised that outing himself and Marco at this point in high school might
not have been the best move, but he was going to stick to his guns now, even if
it earned him a slap upside the head. He cocked his hip and fucking ran with
that shit.
“Yeah, brainiac, what gave it away? Was it the eyeliner or leather pants? Both?
This is a waste of our time, c’mon guys.”
Armin guffawed quietly, and Reiner nodded. “Yeah, let’s get the fuck out of
here.”
He made it about four paces down the street before Hannes squared up to him.
“You could be a cool guy Reiner, like really cool. Instead you hang out with
Queer-olt, the faggot duo, chubby’n’baldy, the little blonde pussy and a pair
of dykes. Seriously, what gives?”
“Well gee Hannes I don’t know,” Reiner replied through gritted teeth, “ maybe
because the alternative is hanging out with fucking assholes like you?”
There was a beat of silence before Connie pushed through the throng of people
to cut in front of Reiner. He could barely look Hannes in the eye with his
stature but the ice in his voice made Jean feel about two inches tall, and it
wasn’t even directed at him.
“The fuck did you call her?”
“What, the dykes?” Hannes chuckled, eying up Annie and Christa.
“Nah dude, backtrack a little.”
Connie sounded cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.
“Oh you mean the fat chick?”
The shorter man nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I needed.”
Another beat of silence occurred before, to Jean’s delight and horror Connie
slammed his fist between Hannes’ eyes and kicked him hard in the knee, taking
him off balance. Jean’s heart lurched for an instant, and then it all went to
shit.
A guy who Jean thought was called Hugo lunged for Connie, but was cut abruptly
short when Reiner tackled him, rolling on the floor trying to pin him. Another
one took this as an excuse to fight and immediately swung at Bertolt, who was
too busy sweating and jittering to block the impending fist.
The harsh blow to the temple left him reeling, and that’s when Jean decided it
was his turn to fuck shit up. He leapt at the guy who had punched Bertl and
dropkicked him as hard as he could in the chest. The guy was pretty beefy and
although he fell down, looked a lot like he might get up soon. Jean didn’t have
much time to consider future tactics as someone grabbed him from behind and
threw him onto the kerb.
He hit his head so hard he genuinely saw stars dance in his vision, and tasted
blood in his mouth. He looked up and around. So far, he and his friends weren’t
exactly winning this fight.
Hannes had got the upper hand on Connie and was currently punching him in the
gut, although his nose was spurting a pretty hefty amount of blood. Bertolt was
still looking stricken and Marco was whaling on the guy who Jean figured had
thrown him.
Two other guys were engaged with Sasha and Armin, Sasha was fending pretty
well- getting in some pretty heavy kicks and slapping the guy in the side of
the head with her bag. Armin was getting pummeled. Mikasa then stepped in,
taking the guy clean off his feet with an elegant swipe of her leg and not-so-
elegantly stomping on his groin.
Annie was fucking slaying however, defending Christa with a weird stance and
delivering lightning-fast punches to temples and solar plexi. She smacked the
guy who had punched Bertolt hard enough that he stumbled and fled, and bopped
his friend’s head against her knee knocking him unconscious instantly.
Reiner put the guy he had been wrestling with out for the count, and ran over
to help Jean up. His face looked pretty messed up, a cut spread across his
cheek and a nasty-looking bruise blooming around his split lip. Jean accepted
the help gratefully, and scanned the scene of chaos for Marco.
The tides had turned somewhat since he had last seen him, he had gone from
whaling to being the whale-ee, the brutish looking guy raining kicks over his
abdomen as he curled up on the floor, trying to protect himself a little. Jean
got why Connie had punched Hannes now.
He yelled a battle-cry and smashed his elbow against the lugs head, knocking
him over into an ungainly sprawl across Marco who scurried away, letting Jean
pull him up. The fight was dispersing now, the guys Mikasa and Annie had
dispatched slinking away along with the dick who had punched Bertolt. Hannes
and Connie were still trading punches and Sasha’s opponent finally giving up
after a well placed thumb to the eye socket.
Hannes sucker punched Connie something nasty, but the little guy was too pissed
off and had too much adrenaline pumping around his veins to give a shit. He
kneed Hannes in the crotch and brought his elbow down on his head viciously
when he doubled over in pain, knocking him spark out.
Connie turned around to look at his friends, breathing hard. His face was
pretty fucked up, a black eye already darkening around the socket and blood
oozing out of his nose.
“So, drinks anyone?” he quipped, before stepping over Hannes’ stirring body and
heading towards The Pirripin.
***** Bust A Move *****
Chapter Notes
     Just a quick little update c: hope you like it, because it almost
     definitely likes you.
     Enjoy!
EREN’S POV
Eren had spent his day in a state of constant confusion. Firstly Levi had
pushed him on his ass in the middle of a parking lot, then a man with a bad
haircut had turned up and Levi had vanished. Then his best friends had arrived
at his work covered in cuts, bruises and extravagant bloodstains.
He really didn’t know what to make of that. His head was an absolute mess; the
strange man had bolted after the sound of Levi’s revving engine had flooded in
from the parking lot, and Eren felt that like a slap to the face. No
explanation, just cowardice- Eren had never taken Levi to be a man who was
afraid of anything, but he had paled to a translucent sheen when the bizarre
man had accosted him and vanished without a word to Eren.
Not only was it bad relationship-communication, but also meant he had to deal
with double the amount of customers. When the sheer number of bar goers had
finished overwhelming him, Eren had a chance to accost Mikasa about why Reiner
had blood seeping out of his face and why Connie had looked like he had gone
ten rounds with a wily anvil.
“The baseball team showed up.” She explained simply. “Connie went ballistic and
slugged Hannes and it all turned to shit from there.”
Eren believed her wholeheartedly. He could see Connie from where he stood
pouring Mikasa a liberal gin and lemonade, Sasha gently using a napkin to soak
up the stream of blood oozing from a cut on his cheek.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he replied, handing Mikasa her drink. “Is everyone
okay?”
She took a moment to sip on the beverage before replying.
“Yeah, Jean has a pretty gross-looking bruise on his temple, Reiner got away
with a nasty split lip, and you’ve seen the state of Connie I figure. Armin’s
got a black eye and a cut on his face but besides that I figure we’re all in a
decent state to drink the pain away.”
Eren nodded, flooded with anxiety for his friends well-being. He would make the
baseball pay for this, he fucking swore it. Especially when he saw Marco
limping his way towards the bar and Bertolt swoon in concussion for the second
time in the evening.
“Hey Eren.” Marco sat at the bar, wincing a little as he eased himself onto a
stool. “A tia maria and Jack Daniels and coke please.”
“Coming right up.” Eren replied professionally, mixing the drinks and watching
enviously as Jean strode over to support Marco and croon over his injuries.
“There you go,” Eren said as he slid the pair of drinks over the counter-top,
which was not nearly as clean as it would be if Levi was here.
“Thanks Jaeger.” Jean replied, necking half his drink as he wound an arm around
Marco.
“Yeah, cheers Eren” Marco parroted, sipping more conservatively at his own
beverage.
“So, how are things with you?” He asked pleasantly
Eren just shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Shit’s got weird with Levi though, some guy
turned up earlier and he just bolted with zero explanation.”
A thoughtful look crossed Jean’s horsey face. “Yeah? Did you get his name?”
He cast his mind back to the awkward encounter. “Um, like Ollie or Olav or
something? I don’t know, it could be an ex-boyfriend or something, but he
called him ‘boss’ which struck me as really fucking weird.”
Marco cocked his head pensively. “That is really fucking weird. You should talk
to him about it ‘Ren. Communication is key y’know.”
Conversation ceased there as Jean took the opportunity to extensively make out
with Marco. Eren felt mostly grossed out and a little jealous as they
shamelessly sucked face, clearing revelling in each other’s touch and company.
He moved on to serve Sasha, who looked antsy and kept throwing glances over to
where Reiner, Annie and Connie stood together, knocking back their drinking and
swaying along to the cheesy music.
“Yo Jaeger, una tequila por favor.”
Eren sighed “Damn I wish it wasn’t a reflex for you and Connie to start
spouting shit in Spanish the second you get a few drinks down you.”
“Who says there’s a me and Connie?” She replied, a little on the hysterical
side. “I speak Spanish when I want to speaking fucking Spanish, barwench.”
She had a little dirt smeared on her brow but besides that she seemed mostly
unscathed from the debacle earlier.
“Whoa chill out there Potato-Girl,” Eren grunted in response, chucking a
tequila shot down his throat before serving hers.
“Chill out yourself,” she retorted, “should you really be drinking whilst on
shift?”
Eren shrugged and necked another, letting the sedative sizzle through his veins
and take his mind off Levi being a stupid little shit and his friends getting
in a bust-up without him. If he were there, he could have prevented Marco
clutching his ribs like they were about to topple through his chest or Armin
stemming the flow of blood from his nose.
“Whatever Blaus, so what’s up with you? Usually you’re happy-go-lucky as a
fairy with diarrhea by this point in a night, who shoved a rod up your ass?”
Sasha just glared at him before taking her shot in a single gulp and slamming
it on the bar.
“I think I fucked up real bad, Eren.” She said solemnly. “And I don’t really
know what to do about it.”
With that she wandered off to dance like a prick with Christa and Ymir along to
a Johnny Cash song, leaving Eren alone with his thoughts once more. Not for the
first time, Eren wished he could be the other side of the bar, drowning his
worries out with alcohol instead of letting them plague his mind like a
parasite, worming it’s way throughout his every thought and breath.
Where was Levi now? Was he alright? Eren resolved to go to his apartment first
thing tomorrow and demand an explanation. He was distracted from his inner-
epiphany by Reiner swaggering up to the bar and asking for two vodka and coke
mixes.
Eren complied, as was his job description, but not without a little prying
first.
“So what’s crawled up Sasha’s ass huh? She was acting fucking weirder than
usual when she was ordering.”
Reiner just shook his head enigmatically. “All shall be revealed in time
Jaeger. Believe me, it’s best this stays under wraps for now.”
“Jesus fucking Christ Reiner,” Eren said, shaking his head disbelievingly, “you
really are a dastardly son-of-a-bitch, you know that?”
Reiner just winked at him before grabbing the drinks and returning to hand one
to Bertolt.
Eren noticed his friends were gradually shaking off their introverted states
and broaching the dancefloor, Ymir, Christa and Sasha already out there and
Armin along with a concerned Erwin joining them as the tones of ‘Twist and
Shout’ began to filter throughout the room.
Jean pulled Marco along with him into the throng of bodies and they began to
dance exuberantly, eventually being joined by Reiner and Bertolt and their
typical dad-dancing escapades.
Even Mikasa was dragged out by a somewhat drunk Annie to shuffle along to the
beat. Eren had never felt more isolated in a room full of his friends. Without
thinking, he tossed back another shot of the vodka he had just served Reiner
before moving on to deal with the other customers, thoughts of Levi still
weighing like a boulder on his shoulders.
CONNIE’S POV
Connie felt like a right fucking dickhead. It was all his fault that fight had
erupted earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Hannes had upped
the ante too far by calling Sasha fat, he really had.
Connie knew everything about Sasha, he was fairly sure he could pick out her
little toe in a line up of similar little toes, and he knew she didn’t like to
be teased about her extensive appetite. She made out like she didn’t really
give a shit and Connie respected that, but in the deepest and darkest trips
they had spent in his darkened living room whilst his brother was in Trost,
they had shown each other every square inch of their souls.
Even after the speed had worn off and the bottles of codeine were long out of
their system, Connie still treasured that night, wishing he had seen the
relevance of it at the time and just told Sasha how he felt there and then.
Now, sipping a double whisky and his face vibrating in pain it was all
agonizingly clear to him. He wasn’t just lonely and bored, he loved Sasha, and
that love ran deeper than their outrageous friendship and banterous behaviour.
He loved her for her quirks and flaws and the way she hiccuped a little when
she laughed.
Connie loved her like he was being scalded from the inside out, and he had no
idea what to do about that. So he watched her dance with her friends, unaware
of his gaze honing on her. It was confusing and scary, being in love Connie
decided. It wasn’t the whirlwind adventure he had always thought his first true
feelings would be, but it was damn close.
He knocked back the remainder of his drink before catching Reiner’s eye, who
beckoned him over. He sauntered onto the dance floor, because if Connie was
good at one thing, it was compartmentalizing. Tomorrow, he would figure out the
mess his heart and Sasha’s infectious smiles had got him into, but tonight he
was going to get drunk and cast it all from his mind.
At this precise moment, he was going to dance like an ass with his two tallest
friends and shuck all the pain and anxiety of his back, leaving him with new
skin if only for the night. He threw himself into a rendition of ‘Twist and
shout’, typically hamming it up and grinding on Bertolt.
He backed off after he was fairly sure he might drown in the poor guy’s sweat,
finding himself face to face with Sasha. They both froze for a moment, doubt
flashing in their eyes. Connie was determined that even if he couldn’t earn
Sasha’s undying affection he could make do with their friendship, and
accordingly seized her hand and pulled her into a embarrassingly inaccurate
twist.
Connie had no fucking idea how to do the twist, but he just of kind of let
himself flow with the quirky rhythm, sure the combination of blood loss and
alcohol would supplement his total lack of skill. Luckily Sasha picked up on it
pretty quickly and joined in with his dilapidated spasms.
He couldn’t quite quell the rush he got from that. Sasha was always beautiful
in his eyes, but tonight she looked especially gorgeous, her hair loose around
her shoulders and a red lolita-style dress adorning her body, hugging to every
curve of her hips. Connie wasn’t a stupid guy, he knew that a girl could go
from a two to a ten with a little make-up and the right clothes, but he had
seen Sasha in the bleakest of hangovers and most disgusting of comedowns, and
to him she had always looked enchanting.
The beat thumping from the speakers stalled and switched to something more
modern. And Connie couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.
Motherfucking Young MC, fuck yes, this was his jam.
He let his hips swing into time with the gyrating guitar riff as the floor
cleared a little and he darted over to Jean. He knew Jean loved this song too,
so there were no fucking excuses for him not ditching his boyfriend for ten
seconds to jam with him.
“This here's a jam for all the fellas, tryin' to do what those ladies tell us,
get shot down 'cause ya overzealous, play hard to get females get jealous”
Connie rapped along to the beat, revelling when Jean unashamedly joined in like
the lame little white boy he was.
When the chorus kicks in with the girl’s vocals Connie doesn’t even think
before grabbing Sasha, clapping hands on her hips and dancing with her. Their
eyes meet and she looks a little stunned, until Connie broke away to spit the
next few bars with Jean.
“She's dressed in yellow, she says hello, come sit next to me you fine fellow.
You run over there without a second to lose, and what comes next? Hey bust a
move!”
Connie was into this song like no other, and earning a decent amount of
cheering for his stirring hips and flawless lyric deliverance. As the breakdown
cut in, Jean retreated to dance with Marco. They both looked pretty into it,
grinding on each other in the shadows of the room and Connie decided to bop his
way over to Sasha.
Connie liked the assertive feeling he got from putting his arms around Sasha’s
waist the first time so he does it again, enjoying how her hips roll in time to
the beat. She rests her arms around his collar and indulges him in the same
starstruck look she did before, and Connie realised with a lurch in his gut
that was how she was looking at Erwin the time he rudely tore her away from him
to dance.
Just as he’s really hitting his groove and his mind is bending to light-speed,
the song ends. But he and Sasha remain wound in each other’s grasps. They
stayed there, staring into each other's eyes like lost puppies until Armin
wandered over, demanding that since Connie got him a set of cracked ribs, he’s
doing tequila shots with him.
Connie obliged, but his gut remained in the same twisted-up position it had
been in since Sasha had looked at him with the same unadulterated wonder she
did when he came up with the idea of packing Pop-tarts with weed before
toasting them, but this time there was no pot or delicious food, just him.
***** Don't Stop Believing *****
Chapter Notes
     fiahglkdhfkaldjfhla sorry it's so late, I've been crazy-busy all
     weekend and will be until Thursday :( it's a pretty short chapter so
     a thousand apologies, hopefully I'll be able to churn out a proper
     length few asap c: as always, hope you enjoy!
REINER’S POV
Before his eyelids could flutter open, Reiner knew he was in pain. Aching
sensations looped around his chest like a hedgehog had been stuffed in his
ribcage and his face throbbed around his lip. He could already feel a scab
forming where that meat-headed motherfucker had smacked him against the
sidewalk.
He grunted a little and shifted his body as gently as he could, not ready to
open his eyes just yet. As he moved he felt skin brush his own, softly against
his stomach. What the fuck?
Reiner could tell by the smell of the room that they had crashed at Bertolt’s,
and then it all clicked. They had slept in the same bed again, cool, whatever,
it’s all just a bro thing.
Reiner settled himself down again, still caught up in his own personal agony
and trying to remember why the fuck he had let Armin convince him into doing
tequila shots with himself and Connie. He could already feel the pinching
sensation around his temples which alerted him to an impending headache.
Thinking of Connie, Reiner had seen him and Sasha dancing and instantly knew
he’d done the right thing by talking to her in Annie’s sitting room. Their
conversation had been brief, but he had wheedled it out of Sasha that maybe she
could have some feelings for Connie that weren’t totally friendship-orientated.
He hadn’t needed to pry much after that, Reiner was a problem-solver and he
could tell when he’d done his part.
He winced some more and turned over to find a more comfortable position. That
is until he realized the sheets he was navigating were brushing against his
bare ass. What the fuck?!
Then Reiner decided he had to open his eyes now, squinting against the sunlight
to survey his surroundings.
He was fourth-base naked, in Bertolt’s bed. To add insult to injury, Bertolt
was in it too. He was lying face down, the covers only cocooning his lower
half- sunlight and shadows mingling over the ridges of his spine. Reiner was
internally panicking at full-throttle by this point, from this perspective he
didn’t know for sure that Bertolt was naked, but it would be pretty unlikely if
he wasn’t.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Reiner evaluated everything; so he had got in a
fight, got drunk, and woke up naked in bed with his best friend, who was a
confirmed homosexual. Great.
Reiner knew there was no guarantee that anything had.. Happened, but at this
point it kind of seemed redundant anyway.
He had literally no idea what to do. He had always thought Bertolt was sweet
and funny, and yes pretty cute, but the line in the sand had been drawn that
they were best friends for some time now and Reiner had never intended to cross
that line, much less smear it out with his dick.
His mind hopped into overdrive. What had they done together? Had he liked it?
Were they going to do it again? Okay no, Reiner hadn’t deliberately considered
the last one but he couldn’t stop it flitting across his mind now. He loved
Bertolt, he was his best friend for fuck’s sake, but if Bert was going to be
screwing anyone, wouldn't Reiner prefer it to be him?
They were a totally co-dependant duo, if something messed up one the other felt
it. How would this bizarre situation affect their symbiotic relationship? When
Bertolt had be upset and arguing with his dad about his sexuality, Reiner had
felt off-kilter and sad. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience,
floating miles above the mental chaos that he was experiencing, because he
felt.. Okay with it.
It had been a shock, but in hindsight there were much worse things to happen
than sleep with your best friend. Wasn’t that how loads of relationships began?
Good friends becoming lovers? Reiner had seen it in shit-tonnes of films at
least.
And really, what would change between them? They might kiss, and cuddle and
have sex (which Reiner was trying to figure out the mechanic of), but they
would still go the arcade and record shops together, they’d still duet on
guitar and bass (badly) and they would still mooch around Reiner’s reading
comics for hours on end.
He took comfort in knowing that this didn’t have to be the be-all end-all of
their friendship, at least not if he had anything to do with it. Reiner debated
whether to was Bertolt up or not, but opted to just lay near to him, brain
processing how their entire relationship had simultaneously changed completely,
and not changed at all.
He had almost drifted back to sleep before Bertolt woke up, stretching and
limbering up his muscles with a cacophanus yawn. He flopped onto his side and
rubbed his eyes until they focused. Then he caught a glance of Reiner
practically nose-to-nose with him on the pillow and yelped.
“Shit! Morning Rei- ohhhhhh my god.”
He twigged on much quicker than Reiner had that he was in fact totally fucking
naked.
“Um, Reiner?”
“Yup?” He replied, popping the ‘p’ in an act of being totally casual.
“Um, are you also uhh..” Bertolt meandered awkwardly
“Without clothes?”
“Yes, yes that’s the thing, er, word I was looking for there,”
“Also yep.”
Bertolt blushed totally scarlet. “Oh god, we didn’t..?”
“Don’t know, but I would uh, assume so.” Reiner deadpanned, he had just got to
grips with the idea that him and Bertolt could work as a couple, but now it was
occurring to him that maybe Bertolt didn’t feel the same way. Would he just
brush it off as an uncomfortable drunken mistake?
“Oh, I, er, um, oh.” Bertolt mumbled, sweating in earnest.
“It’s.. Okay Bert.” His head snapped up disbelievingly.
Reiner decided that he would have to take the lead here, salvage their
friendship and maybe even coerce Bertolt into something more? Although they
were indulgent daydreams, he had grown fond of the idea of dating Bert.
“Shit happens y’know? I’m okay with this. Are you?”
Bertolt squeaked a little. “Reiner.. This is really not how I wanted it to
happen, but I am okay with this. Like, really okay with this.” His voice broke
a little then, and Reiner got it.
Without a thought, he pulled Bertolt into an embrace. It was a little awkward
at first and Bertolt was tense in his arms, but he gradually relaxed into his
touch. It was just their torsos touching because Reiner was very aware that
they were still both in their respective birthday suits.
Reiner gently carded his hand through the hair on the nape of Bertolt’s neck,
trying to be comforting without making things uncomfortable. Bertolt huffed a
breath into the crook of his neck and started talking. “Reiner, this might not
end well, but I guess it’s happened now. I like you, as in like-like you. I
have for a really long time, but I just always assumed you were totally
straight and if I acted on it I would mess up our friendship. When you say
you’re ‘okay’ with this, do you mean..?”
“That I like you too?” Reiner cut across. “Yeah Bert. I hadn’t given it much
thought until now, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with, like ever.
And you know how badly Hitch fucked me up towards the end.”
Bertolt nodded, his hair tickled Reiner’s nose. “Yeah, yeah I do. So, are we
basically getting at the point that we want to be… Boyfriends?”
Reiner squirmed a little. “I guess so.. Like I want to treat you like one, but
I’m still very sketchy on the details of um, doing the do with a guy. Not to
mention being an out couple at school is going to be fucking horrible. After
that sham last night? Senior year is going to suck dick.”
Bertolt shook his head, ever the optimist. “It won’t. Well maybe a little, but
we’re gonna have the whole gang there with our backs. And, yeah it’s okay if
you want to keep.. This, between us for now.” Reiner smiled and drew his head
back a little in order to press a kiss against Bertolt’s slightly parted lips.
It was sweet and chaste and made Reiner’s head spin a little, mostly because it
felt so undeniably natural. He would have thought his first thoughts kissing a
boy would be something the lines of ‘Oh god!!!!’, but really it was more of an
off-handed ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’
He opened his mouth a little to properly kiss him, revelling in the broken sigh
that it elicited from Bertolt. Reiner knew that rationally, lots of couples
broke up and if he lost Bertolt, it would be losing half of his limbs. But in
that moment, the gentle press of slightly chapped lips against his was enough
to whisk his mind to a more optimistic world, empty of anyone but himself and
the lanky young man in his arms.
***** Missing You *****
Chapter Notes
     I'M BACK GUYS! New update ahoy, and I'll be adding another chapter
     soon c:
EREN’S POV
After the eleventh time Eren had snatched the phone from it’s cradle with the
intention of calling Levi and demanding a goddamn explanation, he decided it
was time to bite the bullet and just drive to his place. It had been two days
since the incident with absolutely no contact from Levi and his initial
feelings of worry and compassion had quickly worn off into Eren just feeling
pissed off and a little betrayed. He was Levi’s fucking boyfriend after all, he
should be getting an explanation for his shitty vanishing act.
Not to mention he had a crap night of dealing with double the customers and
then having to ring up a mechanic to come and repair his car at ten past
midnight. The Starlet was mostly fixed now, and only stalled now and then on
the route home.
Eren pulled on Mikasa’s bomber jacket which he had now claimed as his own and
lit a cigarette to calm himself down a little before he drove to Levi’s flat
and just demand to know what had incited him to flee like such a fucking
coward.
He soaked up the dwindling afternoon sunshine as he sucked on his cigarette and
allowed the toxins and cloying scent to mellow out his nerves. Eren was still
hopelessly confused about the situation, which didn’t mix well with being angry
and concerned. His head filled with theories and contingencies and his revved
the engine and set off down town.
Switching on the radio usually pacified him a little, even when he was in the
worst of moods, usually after an argument with Mikasa or another bout of
fighting with Jean, tuning into his favourite station and bathing himself in
the flow of the music made every situation lighten up.
All he heard was static for a few moments until John Waite’s voice began
floating out of the tinny speakers.
‘Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath. I'm still standing here
and you're miles away, and I'm wondering why you left’
Eren considered snarling and switching the damn thing off, the last thing he
needed now was a melodramatic mental break, but instead he allowed himself to
wallow a little, indulging his mind in the possibilities he hadn’t wanted to
face.
That Levi had disappeared from the state and he would never see him again, that
this would be a wedge between him and they would go back to being snarky
workmates (but more likely Eren would just quit and find a new job, seeing Levi
every other day and knowing what could have been sounded a lot like torture.)
He parked outside the complex and trekked up to Levi’s apartment, doubt and
dread stirring in his stomach, but Eren Jaeger was a lot of things and a
yellow-bellied pussy wasn’t one of them. He was determined to tackle this now
and fast, before it became something tragic.
He took a few composing breaths, before rapping on Levi’s front door twice.
After a few gut-wrenching seconds, he heard movement from indoors. Then the
door opened a crack, held mostly to the frame by the chain-bolt.
Levi’s slate obsidian eyes peered out with him, more pronounced by the great
troughs of grey which had appeared beneath his eyes- starkly contrasting with
his pale complexion.
“Eren.” His tone was relieved, but also vaguely manic. “Hi.”
“Hey, Levi.” Eren tried to keep his tone conversational, not sure what to make
of the scene before him. “Yep, me. Eren. The boyfriend you ditched at work on
Friday? With no explanation?”
Alright, so that wasn’t very conversational. Levi sighed and slid the bolt
open, opening the door and gesturing for him to enter.
“Any reason this place turned into Fort Knox since the last time I was here?”
Eren sarked as he walked in. The place was spotless as ever, but he saw the
empty bottles of wine on the counter, and no amount of cheap air freshener
could mask the strong stench of cigarette smoke.
“Eren.. Listen this is hard to explain..”
Levi sounded deeply uncomfortable, as he fiddled with the waistband of his
pyjama bottoms. Eren’s pyjama bottoms actually, he hadn’t realised Levi had
kept them and couldn’t deny the warm feeling that flared at the pit of his
stomach at the sight of him wearing them.
“Well, you should probably get explaining then.”
The warm feeling wasn’t enough to stop the flames licking at his temper
however, and he plonked his ass down on Levi’s sofa and raised his eyebrows at
him.
“Alright brat-”
“Shut the fuck up! If I’m such a brat why wasn’t I the one fucking booking it
the second some guy wanders in to work asking for me? Why wasn’t I the one
giving no explanation for this to his boyfriend who was worried fucking sick
about him? Huh?”
Eren hadn’t meant for his temper to boil over, but now it was like magma
spilling from a crater lip. It wasn’t an exaggeration, he had been a flummoxed
wreck since Friday and he was desperate to know where he stood.
“Eren, please.” Levi words were quiet and sounded utterly defeated. Eren
immediately felt like a piece of shit. “There’s some stuff I haven’t exactly
told you.. About my past. Ideally I wouldn’t tell you at all, because it is the
past and I hate dredging shit like this up but, well under this circumstance I
don’t have any other viable options.”
He sat next to Eren, keeping a few inches between them. Eren held his tongue
and nodded for his to continue talking. Levi sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you
this, because I was worried you wouldn’t see me the same afterwards but.. You
mean a lot to me, Eren. And I suppose you deserve to know the whole story. Up
until two years ago, I lived in Shiganshina. You’ve probably heard of it, it’s
way over the other side of Trost and it’s shitty as hell. Stohess is shitty too
I know, but Shiganshina is fucking chock-full of crime and gangs and folk who
would rough you up as soon as look at you.”
He paused to light a cigarette, hands shaking just a little.
“I grew up there, and after I graduated high school I didn’t have the cash to
go to college, so I joined a gang. I was already a drinker, but I got onto
harder shit pretty fast after then. I started at the bottom but I rose fast, I
was fucking good at what I did. I did awful things, Eren. I beat and stole and
threatened and let even worse things happen right before my eyes without
lifting a finger to stop it.
My gang were a rough crowd. The Legion we were called, but as it is with
everything a rougher crowd showed up after we started churning some serious
profits. The Titans, they called themselves. They carved a fucking hole in our
ranks, we were dropping like flies. I was too fucking high to care half the
time, but then they came for me.”
Levi looked Eren dead in the eyes as he spoke now. “They kicked the everliving
shit out of me, cut me up pretty nasty too. I fought back though. When push
came to shove I killed two of the goons they sent after me, and that night I
shipped out to settle somewhere new. I was in way too deep and The Legion
wasn’t a ship I wanted to sink with. None of that ‘Band of Brothers’ shit, it
was a job to me and that was all.”
Eren’s mouth had dried up completely and he choked a little trying to spit
words out. “So, that Oluo guys was..?”
“My second-in-command, by the time I left I was their ‘heichou’- the captain.
He wanted me to come back and help haul them all out of the shitter. That gang
did nothing fucking good for me Eren. They turned me into a thug, and con
artist and a junkie, I don’t owe them shit, my less my life.”
Eren’s mind reeled. So his boyfriend was a murderer, great. To be fair he had
killed in self-defense but regardlessly this influx of information made him
feel nauseous. Levi just kept talking. “I panicked when Oluo showed up, mostly
because I realised that if my own men could find me, it meant The Titans could
too. I don’t want to fucking think about the revenge they would wreak on me.
They would tear you apart just to break my focus on the war, Eren. They are
fucking merciless and I feel sick at the thought of those inhuman fucks coming
anywhere near you.”
Levi ducked his head and simply said. “I understand if you want to leave.”
A part of Eren did kind of want to bolt outside so he could collect and make
sense of all this, but the majority of him could see all this in context with
the Levi he knew now, and it did nothing to alter how much he had come to care
about the short, maltempered young man.
He tentatively reached his hand out to clasp it around Levi’s shoulder. “It’s
okay. Like you said, it’s all the past now and what I give a shit about is our
future. Together. I really really fucking like you, and all the things you’ve
told me scare the shit out of me, but mostly because of how little it changes
how I feel.”
Levi twisted his head to appraise Eren’s earnest look. “Really?”
“Really. We can deal with this shit if it happens, but at the moment it’s all
hypothetical right? Chances are the Titans aren’t going to find you.”
Levi made a noise like he was choking back something like a sob and pulled Eren
to him, kissing him fiercely. “Thank Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered as they
broke apart, “I was shitting myself that this would be the end for us, I really
don’t want that.”
Eren kissed him this time, sucking lightly on his lower lip until Levi opened
his mouth, swiping his tongue against Eren’s and tracing an ostentatious
pattern around his hipbone with the pad of his thumb. Eren accordingly pushed
his palms from Levi’s shoulders to the small of his back, pushing himself more
and more into the kiss.
Then he slipped a little and bit down hard on Levi’s tongue. Not giving him a
chance to apologise for his blunder, Levi hitched him up and pushed him down,
so his back was against the sofa and Levi on top. He gave Levi a wolfish grin,
which only incited him to growl and pull Eren into another aggressive kiss,
slotting his thigh between Eren’s and shifting it tortuously so it caused a
minute amount of friction around his crotch.
Eren let out a slight whine as the sparks which crackled up his spine from
this, losing himself in their kisses as the weight he hadn’t even realised was
resting on his shoulders for the last few days vapourised. He pushed his hands
up Levi’s shirts and trailed his fingers idly down his prominent abs, then
moving them upwards. Levi gave a breathy moan when his thumb passed over his
nipple, and Eren took that as an invitation.
He deftly pushed Levi’s shirt up and over his head, experimentally leaning up
to lap his tongue across the exposed nub of flesh. The reaction was
instantaneous, and blood rushed to his groin as Levi writhed a little against
his mouth and moaned wholeheartedly.
Eren decided at that moment that his beating heart depended upon making Levi
utter that noise again. It was unconsidered and wanton, filthy and shameless in
a way that spurned Eren into doing it to the other nipple whilst scraping his
hands through Levi’s hair from the back, letting his fingernails dig into his
scalp.
Levi gave another groan of approval, he was now straddling Eren like before,
only now he was not the dominant one. Eren craved more of Levi like this, loud
and uncensored and fucking perfect with his ass resting against Eren’s cock. He
instinctively bucked his hips a little and let out a moan of his own, somewhere
between a whine and a yelp. It sure wasn’t sexy like Levi’s but he still seemed
to enjoy it, smirking down at Eren and twisting his hips so his ass grinded
against Eren’s crotch.
Eren felt his arousal like a steamroller then, his heart leaping and pumping to
an inhuman rate as he watched and felt and tasted Levi astride him, feverishly
drinking in every inch of Levi with every sense he could. Levi pushed his back
against the arm of the sofa and began sucking at his neck, re-colouring the
blooming bruises that had begun to fade only days ago.
Eren made a guttural noise which stuck in his throat as Levi worked his hot
mouth down his neck and into the dip of his collarbone, hand sliding down his
abdomen to massage against his now bulging erection.
“Levi, fuck, I-”
“Is this okay?”
“Jesus fucking Christ yes.”
Eren couldn’t take much more of this and rocked his hips into Levi’s palm
desperately searching for any kind of friction, biting down on his lip to
muffle any further unattractive noises.
Levi had the nerve to fucking chuckle darkly above him, and Eren felt a surge
of adrenaline. He sat up suddenly, knocking Levi backwards off his lap and into
a splayed position on the couch. Eren launched himself onto him, biting down on
his neck and grinding their hips together almost savagely. Levi’s seductive
moans because louder until he was practically shouting, moving his hands
between them to pull Eren’s shirt over his head and force his jeans off. Eren
got the idea and co-operated, also shedding his pants. They regarded each other
for a moment.
Eren’s eyes were wild and confrontational, pupils dilated so far Levi could
scarcely see the turquoise irises. They were ferocious, his mouth was kissed
red and puckered and his neck already showing the saturated tones of the
lovebites he had left. He internally nicknamed this Eren’s ‘fuck me, you know
you want to’ face.
Levi obliged. Crashing their mouths together again for a few moments before he
drew backwards he asked with a hint of teasing in his tone, “so, do you top or
bottom Jaeger?”
***** Whole Lotta Love *****
Chapter Notes
     Fuck I have been so busy recently, sorry all :( last chapter will be
     concluded don't you worry, and as always I hope you enjoy this little
     update x
JEAN’S POV
In the past three days, Jean had realised little things about Marco. Things he
had loved since he first met the freckled boy a year before but had never quite
figured it out until now. The burnt umber shade of his eyes which flashed to an
amber hue when they caught the light, his scratchy, abashed, infectious laugh
which Jean revelled in, the small cluster of freckles just below his ribs on
the left side.
The tiny huffs of breath he released as he exhaled his sleep, his broad
shoulders and square jaw. How fucking adorable Marco looked with bedhead, how
he brought a book AND notebook with him everywhere he went. It was a lazy
Summer evening, the late Monday light filtering in through the half-shuttered
blinds. Mr and Mrs Kirstein had been and gone back to Trost central and weren’t
due home until that Friday so the boys had the house all to themselves.
they sat together on Jean’s bed, a Led Zeppelin album playing quietly in the
background. Marco sat up scribbling away in his notebook and Jean’s head in his
lap, idly flicking through a comic Sasha had lent him last week. He quickly
lost interest, Superman was always his least favourite hero anyway.
“Marc?”
“Mhmm?”
“What’cha writing?”
Jean liked his little nickname for Marco, it was sweet and easy and although he
did also like using the little pet names which Marco lavished upon him, he just
thought it was cute. Like Marco was from this angle, from below his jaw looked
even more angular and he could see the spat of freckles which adorned his
chest.
“Not writing. Drawing, babe”
There it was, the pet name. Jean’s heart swelled a little. Since the night in
the desert on Thursday they had been inseparable, and Marco’s presence had been
enough to wean him off ambien for the most part. The drug had seemed redundant
since he had been spending his nights curled up in Marco’s arms, trading gentle
kisses and quiet words.
“Show me?” Jean asked, hitching himself up on his elbows to have a look at the
page. He had been incessantly curious as to what was actually in the notebook
for weeks now and Marco had been nothing but enigmatic on the subject.
Even now he tried to snatch it away from Jean’s gaze, huffing a little about
personal privacy.
“Come ooooon Marco. Please let me see?”
“Ugh, I, fine. Here. Take the piss and I’ll tickle the hell out of you,
Kirstein.”
Jean almost sighed at the harmless threat, of course Marco was too sweet to
cause him any physical harm than reducing him to a drooling wreck, which was he
typically did by just removing his shirt anyway. Jean knew that taking the
sexual part of their relationship one step at a time was important, but with
Marco in his grasp it was difficult not to ache for his touch and to be able to
touch him shamelessly in return.
He accepted the notebook, looking at the page. They were only sketches, but he
could recognise himself in the abridged drawings nonetheless; this page was all
pencil outlines of Jean’s face as he could see it in his lap. The likeness was
extraordinary, Jean knew that Marco wanted to be an illustrator, but he had no
idea he was this good.
Without thinking he flicked backwards through the book, looking at the other
doodles Marco had etched in his spare time. There were some elegant still-life
sketches, and a few dramatic sunsets, but mostly it was Jean. Jean laughing,
frowning, sitting in the desert sipping a beer. Hundreds of impeccable drawings
of him littered the pages of the book. He admired a pastel sketch of desert,
Jean was the focal point in the centre with others around him.
“Uh, Jean, I can explain..” Marco began awkwardly, shifting with discomfort as
he watched Jean skim through the book.
“All I want a fucking explanation for,” Jean cut him off, “Is what these dumb
mooks are doing in the background, you have some crazy talent Marco and I want
to be what you draw now and forever, if eternity isn’t jumping the gun too
much.”
Marco grinned widely, allowing Jean to pulling him into a kiss. He knew it
probably took a lot of guts to let someone see something as soul-baring as that
notebook, and he was grateful that Marco had placed that trust in him. That was
kind of the turning-point really, Marco trusted him totally and Jean decided
that if not now, then when?
They were sitting on his bed in a kind of awkward position, so Jean remedied
this by pulling Marco flush against him in a much more preferable reclining
position. He pushed his hands down Marco’s back and grabbed a handful of his
ass, deepening the kiss and nipping on his lower lip a little. Marco hesitated
for a moment and Jean worried that he had pushed it too far, too quickly. Then
Marco kissed him back hard, sucking on his tongue a little in a way that made
Jean whimper and used his hands to clasp Jean’s ass in return, pushing their
hips together in a way which made Jean’s head feel light.
He was hard as a rock by now, and according to his gut-reaction shifted his
hips a little to see what friction could be sought after. His erection dragged
alongside Marco’s, both stifling their respective moans at the slow slide of
their cocks moving together.
“Jean, I” Marco huffed
Immediately Jean felt conflicted “Oh god, is this too much, I’m so sorry-” He
tried to move off Marco, but he found strong hands holding him in place.
“No, you moron” Marco growled in a way that shouldn’t have been seductive but
was, “It’s not enough.”
He kissed him again, urgency fuelling their mouths now. Marco moved his hands
around Jean’s thighs to his erection straining through his boxer shorts. He
experimentally stroked a hand over the bulge and Jean practically keened at the
sensation. Jean decided he wanted to be brave too and swept his hands down to
Marco’s clothed cock. He slid off the layers of fabric as Marco stripped off
his shirt.
His mind just kind of, short-circuited then. Marco, lying a little bashfully
underneath him completely naked. His hair was sticking up a little and a flush
had worked its way over his cheeks, hard cock over his navel, weeping a little
with precum at the tip.
On impulse, Jean leant forwards and swiped the tip of his tongue across the
moisture. Marco gasped like the room was a vacuum and bit back a moan. That was
all the incentive Jean needed to do it again, gently working his mouth around
Marco’s cock.
It was a weird feeling but not bad by any means, Jean had zero experience but
he made up for it with adventurousness, acutely aware of every one of the
borderline pornographic gasps and moans that Marco let slip out. After a minute
of getting used to Marco’s weight on his tongue, he decided fuck it and relaxed
his throat before sliding his lips as close to the base of Marco’s length as he
could.
He gagged a little but Marco’s reaction was instantaneous
“Oh Jesus fuck, Jean. Jean.” He panted out, trying to quell his desire to
thrust up against Jean’s mouth. Jean hummed a little around his length, sliding
his mouth up and then back down to the base of his shaft.
“CHRIST, Jean, I, I think I’m gonna..” Marco tugged on the back of his hair,
and Jean slid his mouth off his dick with a dirty popping sound as his lips
were removed.
“Jean, I want..” Marco looked at him, face flushed and voice cracking with
totally shameless need.
“Anything, anything baby.” Jean replied, absently stroking himself as he drank
in the image of Marco taken apart at the seams.
“I want.. Could I.. Fuck you?”
Jean was taken aback by his directness but mostly just flattered. He wanted
Marco, every last fucking inch of him.
“Yes, god yes.”
Marco nodded and kissed him again, replacing Jean’s hand with his own and
stroking his length. Jean shivered and moaned a little at the contact.
He hadn’t been sure who was going to be on top, but he longed for Marco in any
way he could have him, and the thought of being beneath him, writhing and at
the freckled boy’s mercy had kept him up many nights already.
Marco tugged and pushed him so his back was against the mattress.
“I’ve uh, done some research so I do know what I’m doing here.”
“Research?” Jean quipped.
“Well, I think dirty magazines count as research” Marco shot back. “Do you have
any kind of lubricant or-?”
Jean extended an arm and found the drawer in his bedside table. Pulling it open
he procured a small bottle of lube which Eren had bought him forever ago for a
joke.
Who’s laughing now Jaeger? Jean thought as he tossed the tube to Marco.
Jean properly removed his shorts with a little giggling assistance from Marco,
and then his shirt. He thought he might just spontaneously come right there at
the look of rapture on Marco’s face as he looked up and down his naked body.
Marco kissed his collarbone gently, before blazing a trail of nips and kisses
right down to his hipbone, sucking a hickey into the skin there.
Jean was practically wheezing at this alone, his heart rate hopped up another
gear however when Marco nudged his legs apart and squeezed a liberal amount of
the viscous liquid onto his index finger.
“Jean? Are you ready?” Marco’s voice snapped him out of his hazy stupor of
being intensely turned on and he nodded, bracing himself for the worst. Marco
pushed the finger inside of him and Jean tried to stay relaxed, getting
accustomed to the feeling of having something go in where it usually goes out.
After a minute, Marco added a second finger along with more lube. Jean hissed a
little at the sudden burn which spread across his abdomen, but when Marco
looked up in alarm Jean replied with a simple “Don’t you dare stop.”
Marco moved his fingers in and out of him and Jean found himself starting to
enjoy the sensation, when Marco crooked his fingers just a little and fucking
stars exploded across his vision. His dick lurched from slightly softening to
being like a rock and he let out an unapologetic moan. “Jesus fucking Christ,
Marco, what was that?”
“That’s called a prostate Jean.” He replied smugly, before hitting the same
sweet spot which made Jean arch of the bed and whine his name. Marco scissored
his fingers a little more and Jean rutted down onto them shamelessly, panting
and gasping.
“Are you.. Ready?” Marco asked, a little tentatively.
“Fuck, yes, please Marco.” Jean managed to choke out. “Fuck me.”
Marco practically did a double take and hurried to apply some more lube to Jean
and then his own cock, which was weeping and stiffer than Mikasa was when it
came to Eren’s safety.
He lined himself up to Jean’s entrance carefully, pulling Jean’s hips off the
bed ever so slightly so he could get the angle right. Marco pushed himself in
with one long thrust, moaning and throwing his head back as he did so.
Jean grit his teeth and allowed the feeling of being cloven in half to wash
over him.
“Jean? Is it okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He panted out. “Just give me a minute to.. Get used to it.”
Marco did, trailing his hands over Jean’s torso and murmuring to him
comfortingly. After a few minutes Jean looked up at him and nodded.
“Move, Marc.”
Marco gently canted his hips so his dick slid out and in of Jean again
tortuously slow, but jerked his hips at the last second so he hit the sweet
spot. He slid in and out again, harder this time and Jean moaned, wrapping his
legs around his waist for more leverage. They rocked against each other
“Fuck, Marco, just, do me.” Jean managed to stutter as his vision danced and
sparks raced up and down his spine.
Marco didn’t have to be told twice. He began to properly thrust into Jean, moan
warping into a shout.
“God, Jean, so.. You’re so tight I-” he cut himself off with another shout, and
Jean lost it at seeing him so liberated by the sensations he was giving him.
Jean thrust against him with equal vigour, letting himself shout in pleasure in
tandem with Marco,
Marco thrust into him harder and harder, hitting the mark more accurately as
time went on. Jean was in a fucking frenzy by this point, moaning and cursing
and chanting Marco’s name like it was the incantation for immortality.
“Jean, I’m going to- Jean.” Jean felt as Marco came inside him, and let the
coil building in his chest spill out at the same time, cum striping his chest
as he moaned Marco’s name one last time.
They both shook with a combination of fatigue and intense pleasure and Marco
gently pulled out of him before flopping beside him and pulling him into an
embrace.
“I love you Jean.” He mumbled, pushing a kiss against the shaved part of his
hair.
“I love you too,” Jean replied, not thinking twice about it before he drifted
off to sleep still wrapped in Marco’s arms and semen sprayed across his chest.
Yeah, in retrospect that was pretty gross.
***** Love Removal Machine *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm not dead guys!! Just very busy :( here's the latest chapter
     though, on with the plot from here on out! Hope you enjoy it c:
CONNIE’S POV
When Jean didn’t pick up for the third time, Connie had to assume that he was
busy doing the do with Marco. He was proud of his friend, but mostly envious;
Jean was essentially a massive douchebag, why should he get the person of his
dreams but not Connie?
He pangs of longing in his gut for Sasha had stretched into long molasses of
need, he physically craved her presence, but when she was there he felt
bumbling and inadequate to the nth degree- how could he ever deserve her love
and affection?
She was perfect in his mind, beautiful and fearless and independent. Connie
ached for her, the seriousness he had avoided artfully all his life crashing
upon him. Yes, he was young and stupid and high half the time anyway, but he
could never picture himself spending his life with anyone but Sasha.
He spent his morning half with his brother, watching shitty TV and eating
toast, and half in his imagination, conjuring scenarios where he could seize
Sasha by the hand and pull her to him, confessing his feeling and kissing her
deeply.
None of the awkward shit he had dealt with when he had been with Hannah, no
‘oooh should I do that?’ ‘oooh what if her insane ten-foot boyfriend finds out
we screwed that one time’, it would be perfect.
Connie would ensure that it was fucking perfect. After his calls to Jean
trailed off into awkward answer-phone bullshit about ‘you have reached the
Kirstein household etc etc’, rather than ‘Jean’s grand emporium of fucking ha-
ha-ha you aren’t getting any, screw you Springer’.
His head and chest still ached a little from his fight with Hannes, Connie sort
of regretted jumping in with all that white-knight shit, but he knew first hand
that Sasha loathed any kind of off-handed comments about her calorie intake,
and therefore he loathed it too.
Sasha did enjoy her ‘don’t give a fuck’ demeanour, but Connie knew her well
enough to see the cracks which fractured the immaculate wall she had built
between herself and people who gave a damn how much food she loaded into her
body.
He sighed and punched in Bertolt’s number which also rang off into silence.
Seriously, where were all of Connie’s fucking friends? He dialled Armin next,
who actually picked up. Looks like third time's the charm after all huh?
“Hello?”
“Hey Legout, it’s-”
“Hey Connie.”
Connie chuckled, he did love his nicknames. They were funny, imaginative and
insufferable, all of his favourite qualities rolled into one.
“Yo to you too, what’s up?”
“Uhh not much really, there’s a party going on at Annie’s tonight if you want
to come to that?”
“Sure, I’ve been bored shitless since Friday”
“Don’t you mean ‘witless’?”
“Nah, shitless.”
Armin giggled a little at that.
“Well, feel free to come to that, although I don’t remember Friday being much
fun at all, I still have kind of a black eye and Sasha’s makeup is too dark to
make it look okay.”
Connie squirmed a little internally.
“You’ve seen Sasha?”
He hadn’t seen her in almost four days now, which was possibly a record. He
hadn’t even called her up at night to chat shit like he usually did every night
they didn’t spend as a dynamic duo.
“Yeah, we went to the mall together yesterday with Mikasa and Annie. Are you
two in a fight or something? Because I did ask where you were and she just went
red and changed the topic.”
The squirming became a plummeting sensation in Connie’s gut. So now Sasha was
actively avoiding him? Fucking perfect.
“Um, I don’t know right now.. Things are weird to say the least.”
“Connie, do you like her? As in really like her?”
He couldn’t help but give a dry chuckle at that. Armin was a perceptive little
shit after all, of course he would know that his feelings for Sasha extended
beyond just ‘liking’.
“Yeah, I do Legout. I really do and I have no fucking clue what to do about
it.”
Armin hummed contemplatively before he spoke. “You just hang on in there buddy,
see you tonight. Also, never call me ‘Legout’ again.”
“I make no promises!” Connie yelled in response as Armin hung up.
The excessive noise succeeded in waking up his brother, who shouted a caring
sibling remark of ‘pipe the fuck down’ from his room. Connie ignored him and
decided to skip breakfast in favour of one of his brothers cigarettes he had
left on the counter- healthy no, rock’n’roll yes.
He settled himself on the couch to coast through the morning cartoons and
daydream about Sasha.
EREN’S POV.
Eren woke up later than normal, stretching out in his bed and relishing the
space that Levi usually took up with a bittersweet feeling. Work had been
hectic as always last night, but he had secured that Levi would be coming to
Annie’s party that night.
His morning wood jolted uncomfortably against him as he rolled onto his stomach
and Eren let his mind drift to the events of the previous Sunday.
“So, do you top or bottom Jaeger?”
Levi had asked with an impressive smirk, and the tug in Eren’s gut had answered
that enough. He wanted to bite those lips to a bloody mess, to possess and own
Levi’s entire body and wrack it with pleasure. He pulled him into a demanding
kiss and growled into Levi’s mouth, mind to stretched out to censor the words
which tumbled out; “Top. I want to fuck you over this couch.”
Levi’s grin only widened at that. “Now that’s the spirit, brat. Hold on a
moment.”
He wriggled out from underneath Eren and sauntered to his bedroom, deliberately
swinging his hips in a way that made Eren’s mouth dry and head spin.
He returned only moments later, holding a tube of lubricant similar to the
stuff that Eren had bought Jean for his birthday a while back as a joke. He
tried not to think too much about Jean at this particular point in time,
although he was pretty sure that even Horse-Face couldn’t kill his boner right
now, not with Levi standing in front of him, stark naked.
Eren let his eyes trail over Levi’s body, admiring his muscular abdomen and
angular hips. “I could fucking eat you right now” he blurted out, brain still
too fried to regulate what his mouth was saying.
“Easy there, Lecter.” Levi shot back, walking towards his splayed position on
the couch and kneeling in front of him. “You’re welcome to taste every inch of
me.”
Eren’s mind fizzled into oblivion all over again, as Levi tipped his body
backwards and began working lube onto his fingers before he started talking
again. “You’re a total novice at this kind of thing, so don’t be offended but
I’d rather prep myself.”
Eren couldn’t feel offended, or much of anything really as he watched Levi
insert a finger inside himself and gently pump it up and down. All he could
really feel was his cock twitching in time to Levi’s moans as he added more
digits and stretched himself out.
Eren decided he couldn’t take it anymore, watching with rapt attention he began
to stroke himself. “Don’t bother with that.” Levi panted out. “Just get over
here. I think I’m going to die if you don’t get on with screwing me in the next
ten seconds.”
He made it over in three, pushing Levi’s back onto the arm of the sofa so his
hips and entrance were aligned with Eren’s cock. He looked at Levi for a long
moment, silently communicating his questions. Are you ready? Are you sure? Levi
just nodded and Eren pushed into him, tight heat wrapping itself around his
length.
Eren let out a long groan at the otherworldly sensation and began to rock his
hips gently, holding Levi’s waist with shaky hands. Levi wrapped his legs
around Eren’s back and rocked back against him impatiently.
Eren felt that familiar adrenaline surge of competitive spirit and slammed his
hips forwards suddenly, properly thrusting into Levi now. Levi let out a
contorted yell and grinded back against Eren’s pace, which was getting faster
and deeper by the thrust.
Eren tipped his head back and lost himself in the movement of skin against
skin, viciously canting his hips so he could bury himself up to the hilt in
Levi. He kept moving, faster and harder, his fingernails carving deep lines
down Levi’s torso as he scrambled for purchase against the smooth skin.
Levi was wholeheartedly yelling now, every vicious thrust causing his back to
arch and howl Eren’s name. Finally Eren began to feel the tell-tale coil in the
pit of his stomach that alerted him of his impending orgasm. He drove himself
hard into Levi whilst using his grip on the older man’s hips to tug him
backwards into the movement.
Eren felt his body spark with a rush and then short-circuiting as he came
moments after Levi did, feeling it like a blow to the gut he spilt inside Levi.
They both froze where they were positioned, gasping for air. Eren on his knees
on the couch and Levi balancing precariously on the cushioned arm, legs still
wrapped around him.
Eren started uncomfortably out of the memory as he came in his bed, the hand he
had pumping his cock slowing to a halt. He sighed and cleaned himself up with a
t-shirt on the floor that he was going to wash anyway and sloped off to the
bathroom to have a shower, eager to see Levi again that evening.
***** Bad Reputation *****
Chapter Notes
     After about a million years, I'm finally updating! Hurrah! As always,
     I hope you enjoy the latest chapter :)
REINER’S POV
Reiner rocked up to Annie’s house twenty minutes late with a bottle of Jack
Daniels, in the best mood he had been in for months. He had spend almost every
waking minute since Saturday with Bertolt, and even his sleeping ones wrapped
around the other boy’s lanky frame, arms draped over his slim hips and nose
buried in the nape of his neck.
Bertl had gone home earlier that day to put on some clothes that weren’t
Reiner’s and get some of the work he had been set over the summer done, and
Reiner couldn’t wait to see him again. They had only spent hours apart, but
their close co-dependency was even more apparent now they were a couple.
Reiner opened the Leonhart’s front door and wandered in, following the loud
music that echoed through the halls to it’s source in the basement. In the last
four days he and Bertolt had awkwardly navigated their boundaries, casual
kisses and affection were the limit right now, as neither of them had much
experience and Reiner was still pretty confused.
It wasn’t that he didn’t find Bertolt attractive by any means, but he wasn’t
willing to delve into layers of intimacy when things were so good as they were;
the kind and easy touches that transpired between the two of them were enough
for him right now, and he didn’t want to rush into anything too quickly, not if
it was their close-knit friendship at stake.
He opened the door to the basement and the swell of the music rushed over him
as he walked in, along with the general roar of enthusiasm of his friends at
his belated arrival,
It appeared that he was the last one there besides Bertolt; Hanji, Connie and
Jean had already started dancing along to a Joan Jett track blaring out of the
boombox, Eren and his midget boyfriend were talking on the couch, Marco and
Armin were talking in the corner and Sasha was toking off a bowl with Mikasa
and Annie.
‘I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation, I've never been afraid of any
deviation, and I don't really care if you think I'm strange I ain't gonna
change’
Reiner moved into the room and returned Eren’s wave, placing his bottle onto
the table with a clunk and helping himself to a beer from the omnipresent and
forever lukewarm cooler. He scanned the room a second time, ensuring he hadn’t
simply missed Bertolt’s presence. He was disappointed with the result that in
fact, Bertolt just wasn’t there yet. He necked a good portion of his drink
before noticing that Armin was beckoning him over.
He dodged Jean’s wayward version of the twist as he traversed the room to join
Armin and Marco in their corner of secrecy and freckles.
“Hey Reiner!” Marco chirped with a typically cheerful smile. His face had
mostly cleared up from the fight the previous weekend, only his lip was a
little swollen now.
“Yo man, what’s the deal with this?” Reiner enquired with a smile of his own
“More weird Arlert-scheming?”
Arming grinned and nodded. “Yup, well sort of. Did you know that Sasha and
Connie.. Like each other?”
Reiner just rolled his eyes at that. “Of course I fucking knew it’s obvious!
Why, have the pair of morons still not got their shit together?”
Marco shook his head, which dislodged his collar a little. Reiner’s eyes
widened to the size of dinner plates. “MARCEL BODT, are those fucking
lovebites?!”
“My name is not Marcel! And um,” he blushed the same tone as a fire-engine.
“Yes, yes they are.”
Totally distracted by this development Reiner shouted across the blaring music
to the makeshift dance floor. “FUCKING HELL, KIRSTEIN.”
The track ended as he spoke, leaving the room bathed in awkward static.
“What?” Jean asked, eyes a little bloodshot.
“You! You besmirched our Lord and Saviour Freckled Jesus, you giant bag of
dicks!”
Levi snorted with laughter at that, and everyone else in the room kept their
giggles internal as Jean squirmed and looked sheepish. “..Well, maybe a little,
yes.” He concluded as Sasha burst into peals of laughter along with the rest of
the group. Reiner just raised his eyes heavenward and prayed that maybe one day
his friends wouldn’t be such a load of idjits.
“Like you can talk Rei, where’ve you and Bertl been these last few days?”
Connie called over, which Reiner didn’t dignify with a response. He just
flipped him off and busied himself with drinking his beer; he still didn’t want
to go public about him and Bertolt just yet, even if it was just his trusted
friends.
Another round of laughs coursed around the room and Reiner allowed the
atmosphere of carefree adolescent happiness absorb him for a while, dancing
outrageously with Jean before retiring to do shots with the rest of the group.
After two rounds his fresh bottle of JD was fairly depleted, and he checked his
watch out of habit. Nine o’clock, and Bertolt still wasn’t here. He decided to
leave it another hour, and if he wasn’t here by then he would abscond upstairs
to use Annie’s phone and check up on him.
JEAN’S POV
As per Jean’s usual demand, they knocked back a few shots then went out to the
garden to play a game of truth or dare. After his slut-shaming from Reiner
earlier, he was going to make that fucker pay. The walk out of the basement was
chock-full of stumbling and giggling, his head fairly lucid after two shots,
three beers, four pulls on the bong and a quaalude.
He slumped on the grass, appreciating it’s spongy, luscious touch on his bare
arms, before sitting up and subsequently dragging Marco into his lap. Marco was
also looking pretty jonesed, his eyes a touch bloodshot and his breath smelling
a little like whiskey. Jean dizzily thought that was appropriate considering
that was what the umber shade of his eyes always reminded him of.
The rest of the group congregated around them, all pretty juiced. Connie and
Hanji were still necking down Quaaludes like they were M&M’s, Jean was pretty
surprised that it wasn’t Sasha sitting next to him and guffawing at his
humpback whale impression; Connie’s usual partner in crime was sitting the
other side of the circle quietly talking to Armin.
Armin was doing a lot of quiet talking tonight from what Jean had noticed, even
tearing his lovely dance partner away from him to huddle in the corner earlier.
He absently wondered what he was plotting, but his head was too preoccupied
with it’s gentle spinning and the smell of Marco to pay it much mind.
He pressed a quick kiss to the freckle on Marco’s temple and hooked his chin
over the taller boy’s shoulder to talk. “So, we gonna do this or what?”
“Fuuuck yes we are Jea-Neigh boy!” Connie was pretty fucked actually, chuckling
into Hanji’s shoulder as he shot him a look. “Gimme a dare. Go on, I fear
nothing you hear me, nothing!”
Jean cackled at that, trying to come up with the worst dare he could think of
before Armin interjected. “I’ve got one, seven minutes in heaven in the shed.”
A chorus of ‘ooooohs’ echoed around the circle before Armin could keep talking,
this took a while because Eren and Reiner wouldn’t stop doing it every time he
opened his mouth until Levi planted a loving elbow in Eren’s stomach and forced
him to cut it out.
Jean found himself liking Levi more and more actually, despite his general
scariness. What Eren saw in him besides his obvious good looks were beyond him:
this guy had a tough exterior and an interior made of knives and broken glass
from what Jean could tell. But obviously there was something there, as after
Eren stopped retching he wrapped an arm around Levi and squeezed him tight,
looking into his eyes with a dopey grin and eyes that betrayed the most blatant
affection Jean had ever seen.
He still didn’t like Eren obviously, he was a dumb uppity brat with anger
management problems; but it seemed to Jean that he had found an equally angry
brat to hang out with. Armin waited patiently before continuing, “seven minutes
in heaven Connie! With…. Sasha!” His badly mimed spontaneity at that decision
made Jean giggle a little, and he immediately understood what all the hushed
conversation was about, Armin was going to make the pair of idiots figure out
what was making them act so weird lately.
Jean had definitely noticed that he scarcely seen them interact all evening,
which was unusual- normally they’d be clambering all over each other by this
point and making stupid little in-jokes which made them piss themselves with
laughter and everyone else just look on bemusedly.
Armin’s words had definitely knocked Connie off his high though, his face
rushing to a sickly pallor. Sasha looked like someone had punched her square in
the cunt, her flushed cheeks quickly paling too. “Yeah go on then dare king and
queen, prove you’re worth your titles!” Hanji called out, her words punctuated
by cheering from Reiner and Marco.
“Sure, whatever. This shed?” Connie said, his voice substantially subdued.
“That’s the one.” Annie replied from her perch on Mikasa’s lap. Huh, Jean
hadn’t noticed that developing, but he figured he was happy for the stoic pair
if they were an item. Then again, girls did shit like that all the time, casual
affection and all that, which actually reminded him of something.
“Yo!” He called out, distracting everyone from Connie’s inelegant staggering to
his feet. “Where the fuck are Christa and Ymir at?”
“They’re having a night in I think, they still think we’re oblivious to the
fact they’re screwing.” Marco replied matter-of-factly. “Actually I think
they’re planning to announce their relationship soon, which is dumb as fuck
considering we already figured that out the moment they started cuddling at any
opportune moment.”
Jean nodded solemnly, “should we pretend to be surprised when they tell us?”
“Nah,” Annie called from atop Mikasa, “I don’t even think we should bother with
it, people two states away can probably sense that sexual tension.” Jean nodded
sagely, well rather bopped his head against Marco’s warm shoulder twice and
tried to look wise doing it.
In the midst of this conversation, Connie had slunk off to the shed and Sasha
had followed, the door loudly closing and silence settling over the teenagers.
“And now, we wait.” Said Reiner, with a dramatic gesture and two quaalude
tablets tumbling down his throat.
***** Carry On My Wayward Son *****
Chapter Notes
     The thing finally happened guys. Nice speedy update hooray, hope
     ya'll like it :)
CONNIE’S POV
Connie was pretty buzzed before they all stepped outside, but as the shed door
slammed shut behind Sasha he could feel his heart throbbing in triple time. It
was dark inside the dilapidated wooden construct, and the silence was
physically painful. All he could hear were the uncomfortable triplets wracking
his chest cavity and thrumming around his skull.
“Um, I think I’ve found the light switch.” Sasha muttered, before flipping it
on and letting the amber beams illuminate the shed. Connie perched on a
lawnmower that looked like it had seen better days and tried to make his
heartbeat slow to a less agonizing pace. The shed was cramped and now he could
see Sasha standing less than a metre away from him, so close he could smell her
perfume, a comforting aroma of rose and peppermint.
Connie couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say. She had pretty much
ignored him all evening, opting to sit with Mikasa and Annie rather than
outrageously dance with him like she usually did.
“So, I’m guessing you’re pretty bummed out you’re stuck in here with me and not
Hanji.” Sasha said curtly, leaning herself against the opposite wall from
Connie and his lawnmowing steed. He tried to figure out her angle with that
comment; he had spent most of the night with Hanji, yeah. Was she just making
conversation? Was she trying to insinuate something?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His reply came too early in his thought process
and came out too barbed and snarky for his liking.
“Oh, nothing. Just that you too seem to be getting along.. Really well.”
It clicked in Connie’s fuzzy mind. Sasha was jealous? Of him hanging out with
Hanji? He couldn’t really bring himself to be sympathetic, his heart and head
hurt too much- she was right there and she had no fucking clue how he felt, and
he had no fucking clue how to tell her.
“Yeah, well it’s not like you were vying to talk to me. Seriously what is your
fucking issue? You went to the mall without me, you haven’t called me all
weekend, and then now you’re suddenly avoiding me like the plague?” Connie’s
outburst was a little slurred, his words running and sprawling over each other
haphazardly, but Sasha still went pale.
She mumbled a little, and normally Connie would be more calm and empathetic
about the whole ordeal but he was drunk and his heart was aching from the
combination of pills and unrequited love.
“I didn’t quite catch that, sorry. Was that betrayal you were trying to wrap
your tongue around? Or Shit-brows Smith’s dick? I thought you were my best
friend Sasha, I thought we had a mutual caring-about-each other thing going on
here but apparently not, just me doing way too much caring and you none at
all.”
His voice had raised progressively louder through his tirade, all his feelings
of loneliness and longing fuelling his anger that she could just toss him aside
like he didn’t matter.
“Is that what you fucking think? That I fucking ‘betrayed’ you because I didn’t
want to hang out for a few days? And shut your goddamn mouth about Erwin, I
didn’t do diddly-squat with him besides have a dance at The Pirripin.”
Now she was yelling too, the noise and the venom behind her words scalding
Connie’s ears. “What the fuck did I do wrong? We used to spend every spare
second we had together Sasha, I thought that meant something!”
“It does fucking mean something! I just needed a few days to get my head
straight okay?”
“Get your head straight about what exactly?”
“It doesn’t matter. Go out there and cuddle up to Hanji, that’s what you want
isn’t it?”
By this point Connie was livid. His internal filter had officially switched
off- how dare she presume to know what he wanted?
“No it fucking isn’t, don’t condescend me like you know what I want, you have
no idea.”
Unfortunately, she was just as angry now.
“Your right Connie, I don’t have any idea because news flash you jackass- you
stopped calling me first. You shut me out first! You’ve been acting so weird
recently and you haven’t told me a word about why, so don’t give me the whole
‘you pushed me away’ speech, because you fucking well started it!” She breathed
hard, her eyes hard and glinting in the dim light. “You haven’t told me shit
over the last few weeks and it’s been fucking awful, so why don’t you tell me
Connie, what do you want? Or is it something I could never comprehend because
I’m so preoccupied with Erwin’s dick? What do you want.”
The dam broke. “For fuck’s sake Sasha, all I want is you.” Connie’s voice
cracked horrifically but he couldn’t stop talking now. “It didn’t occur to me
until I saw you dancing with Erwin and it physically made my heart ache, and
it’s not fair that you sit here and throw insults at me because I am in so much
pain every time I look at you because, jesus fucking christ, I love you. And
I’m not ever going to be able to have you.”
His voice had diminuendoed down to a whisper riddled with his own self-pity. He
couldn’t bring himself to look up, to see the contempt on Sasha’s face; or even
the worse, the sympathy. He had spoiled everything now, driven a wedge between
them that he could never remedy after saying all that, So he kept his eyes
trained on his sneakers scuffing against the ground as the seconds of silence
stretched into molasses which wrapped around his heartstrings and squeezed them
until he thought he might cry out.
Then he felt cool fingertips around his neck, and a thumb under his chin
forcing him to look up. Sasha was there, her face inches from his own. “Oh
Cons.” she breathed out with a broken note of laughter on the end.
Connie searched her eyes for what he had been expecting, the pity, the ‘sibling
love’ she felt for him. The excuses for why they would never work out as a
couple which Connie knew was absolute bollocks because Sasha evoked feelings of
happiness and sorrow in him more than anything else he had ever encountered.
But none of that was there. The furious glint in her eyes had melted into
something softer, the look on her face was of unflinching affection, of
happiness, and dare Connie think it, love? “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, catching
her thumb with his hand and brushing his own calloused thumb down it’s length.
“Don’t be sorry, you massive fucking berk.”
Then Sasha kissed him. Actually kissed him. She tasted like everything he
loved; of bongwater and whisky, of bonfire smoke and mint and Summer nights and
sea-salt. Connie let his eyes slid shut and kissed her back, feeling all the
things he had supposed were myths about a first kiss; symphonies in his head
and butterflies thrashing in his stomach. The kiss was gentle and reverential
but he still made a disappointed sound when Sasha drew away.
“Wait, what was that? Does that mean..?”
“I feel the same, you retard.” Sasha grinned and Connie felt something shunt
into place in his heart again. He beamed like he hadn’t in what felt like
decades and leapt to his feet, pulling her into a hug that lifted her off her
feet and spun her around. She laughed, a proper Sasha laugh which warmed his
heart and soul and made him feel like he could rule the universe if he wanted
to. He put her down and laughed too, blushing just a little when she planted
another kiss on his cheek, and then he heard a ruckus outside.
He jerked his head towards the door and shuffled his eyebrows around in a
quizzical manner, Sasha just poorly imitated his eyebrow shuffle and shrugged,
before taking direct action and kicking the door open.
The rest of their friends were stood around the tiny shed, obviously
eavesdropping on their confrontation. The door swung open and narrowly missed
Eren, who's reaction times weren't exactly up to scratch by this point in an
evening, and as they emerged from the shed the garden burst into cheers.
“It’s about fucking time!” Jean hollered over the cacophony. Connie felt a
little embarrassed, but frankly couldn’t give a shit that they had all heard
his confession because he was holding Sasha's hand like it was the most natural
thing in the world and she was wearing an identical sheepish expression to his.
The entire world could fuck off because finally, fucking finally, the short guy
got the girl.
***** Take On Me *****
Chapter Notes
     Here we go, another chapter for you lovely lot :) incessant thanks
     for any and all kudoses, bookmarks and comments, you are my
     inspiration guys
EREN’S POV
Besides a vicious elbow to the stomach earlier and narrowly avoiding a
concussion a matter of minutes later, Eren’s evening had been nothing short of
stellar. Most of the party had retreated inside to indulge in more dancing and
drinking, leaving Levi and himself to their own devices out on the lawn.
The dusky skies were only briefly caressed by the mottled gossamer of clouds,
leaving the pair a nice view of the stars. Head spinning more than a little,
Eren was content to burrow his head into where Levi’s toned shoulder met his
collarbone and just breathe in his scent whilst watching his pale fingers trace
the outlines of the constellations suspended above them.
“Do you ever think about how big the universe is?” Levi’s voice floated from
above him and Eren could feel the vibrations of his voice from where his head
was rested near his chest. “Sure I do, it’s pretty fucking huge right?” Eren
tried to keep any slurring to a minimum, but wasn’t totally sure he managed it.
Levi snorted and the sudden exhalation caused another wave through Eren’s body.
“I’m glad to hear my colourful vocabulary is rubbing off on you so well.. But
yeah, it is really fucking huge, I don’t know, it always makes me think. Even
when I’m not fucked up on bad whiskey and shoddy basement hotboxing, it’s just
so intimidating. The idea of infinity. Of how totally insignificant we’re
destined to be. Oblivion is only 62.5 miles away at any given moment, and that
scares me. It scares me so fucking much Eren.”
Eren mulled his words over, appreciating the arm which had wormed it’s way
around his shoulders during his speech and was pulling them close together. It
made sense he supposed, Levi, a man cleansed by fire and steel of any fear that
mankind could warrant from him. He doubted Levi feared pain or retribution, or
even death really. That helped to put into perspective his irrational phobia of
the universe. Of something utterly beyond his own influence. He gave
enunciating these thoughts a try.
“Everyone’s scared of the idea of infinity, Lev. It’s terrifying and it bears
down on the world constantly how futile things are and how every tentative step
humanity takes could all be undone in seconds, but I think that’s what makes
life beautiful.”
Levi glanced at him, maybe in retaliation to his new nickname, but Eren forged
ahead with his speech regardlessly.
“Like, if there wasn’t a chance that it could all be snatched away, nothing
would ever change right? But they do, we adapt and evolve and cherish moments
because we know that we can never recreate them, and because our time is so
short it doesn’t even matter. It means we have to live like any second fire and
brimstone and giants could tear the earth apart, and therefore we appreciate
it. Life is fleeting and irrelevant, but that’s what makes it so indulgent and
beautiful. And as for infinity, well, I figure there are worse places to spend
eternity than here.”
He trailed off awkwardly, none of his words quite as poetic and illuminating as
he had hoped they would be. He twisted himself around to face Levi, whose eyes
were fixated on him. Eren looked into his eyes, totally blindsided by his
staring. They were slate-grey as usual, the weed making them a tinge more puffy
and red than normal however.
“You..” Levi’s voice was rough and raspy from the exposure to smoke and burning
spirits that he had poured down it earlier, but affection rang through the
coarse tones. “You are the most incredible idiot I’ve ever had the pleasant
misfortune of meeting, Eren Jaeger.”
Then he kissed Eren, not with fire or lust, none of the searing passion that he
had felt from Levi before- he kissed him with reverence. It was gentle,
worshipping almost. Like Eren was the most precious thing that he had ever
encountered and he couldn’t vocalise that, so instead he poured them into the
chaste brush of lips that transpired between them now.
Eren kissed him back with equal tenderness. They had their first falling out,
first fuck, now they had surpassed all the shitty quotas, Eren felt himself
relax. He sighed brokenly against Levi’s mouth and wrapped his arms around his
neck, losing himself in the dizzying sweetness and intimacy of the moment;
their bodies totally flush together and the stars glinting above them like
luminescent sentries.
He could feel Levi’s lips curl into a smile whilst still pressed against his
own, and he was just so fucking gone from there. The combination of drink and
drugs and overwhelming compassion he felt towards Levi left his heart feeling
soft and full, bursting with the potentials of tomorrow, and the day after
that, and the day that would inevitably follow that one.
Eren wondered to himself whether this was what love felt like, flying and
sinking and being rooted perfectly to the ground. He thought it was. That in
turn caused another giddy spin in his head. Love, he was most definitely
falling in love.
How long they lay like that, entwined and in gentle reverence of one another,
Eren couldn’t really gauge, but the illusion was shattered when Jean decided it
would be a cool thing to do if he dumped a bucket of icy water on them from
Annie’s bedroom window.
Eren and Levi did not think it was a cool thing. Eren leapt up on the moment of
contact with the freezing liquid, accidentally kicking Levi a little. “FUCKING
HELL, Kirstein you little shit! Get over here you son of a-” He paused mid-rant
to cast his eyes to Levi, checking he was okay.
Levi was looking up at him with a wry expression on his face. “Go kick his
horsey little ass Eren, give him a slap upside the head from me too. I’ll see
you afterwards.”
Eren bent down to give him a final kiss before his crusade on Jean Kirstein’s
life began, and with that tore off through the house, still soaked with the
chilled water. He took the stairs two at a time, following the echo of
hysterical laughter. He narrowly avoided Connie and Sasha making out at the top
of the stairs, taking a moment from his very first attempt at murder to make
some not-very convincing retching noises in their direction.
“Shut up Jaeger-butt!” A too-stoned-to-be-even-slightly-witty Connie yelled
after him, and Eren heard Sasha cracking up. It wasn’t even funny, stupid
fucking loved-up potheads.
He jogged the hall, and bursted into Annie’s room dramatically. The tableau in
front of him was so douchey it was almost comical.
Jean was still laughing like he had a six-pack coming on, which was physically
impossible because horses don’t have abs, Eren thought. Reiner, the gigantic
Judas, was also raucous with laughter, attempting to wipe tears of mirth from
his eyes. Armin, the smaller Judas, was also trying to muffle giggles vainly.
Fucking ‘Take On Me’ was playing in the background.
Mikasa was sat in the corner with Annie in her lap and they were both also
chuckling at him, and Eren made a mental note to ask his sister what the
goddamn deal-io was with her and the cold blonde girl. But that would be in the
future, because in the now Eren was throwing himself across the room to try and
slap Jean in the head in the name of his beloved.
In reality, he just caused the both to fall on the floor and tussle around like
a pair of twelve year olds, the epic battle happening along to the crooning of
A-ha. At one point Reiner joined in and Jean screamed for Marco, who leant into
the room for a moment, observed the chaos and gave a soft, succinct, “no, I am
so fucking done.” before going to sit with Armin and complain jokingly about
his idiot boyfriend.
“Bet that isn’t the first time you’ve screamed for Marco, eh Jean?” Reiner
chuckled as he sat up. “Speaking of idiot boyf-, um, boys, it’s gone ten and
Bertl still isn’t here. I’m gonna go give him a ring.”
And with that Reiner absconded away the downstairs hallway to call him, and the
violence gradually decelerated from there on out. “I thought Reiner was 119%
opposed to you besmirching Marco?” Eren called from the bed to Jean, who was
curled up with his head in Marco’s lap.
“Reiner is as Reiner does, if there’s a potential dirty joke, he’s gonna jump
on that.”
Jean replied, voice a little muffled. Eren nodded in acquiescence and against
his better judgement accepted a beer from Armin.
The stupid fucking loved-up potheads joined them shortly afterwards, Sasha
joining Eren and Armin in exchange for a beer, and Connie sitting on Marco’s
lap, and therefore Jean’s head. “Get off me you needle-assed little shit!
Goddamnit I swear to god-” And then Connie farted, and everyone fucking lost
it.
Eren was laughing so hard he barely noticed Reiner entering the room, tears of
laughter blurring his vision. He tried to wipe his eyes half-heartedly, only
half listening when Armin asked Reiner what was up.
The tone of Reiner’s voice made Eren’s eyes dry up faster than a puddle in
their desert.
“It’s Bert. I called his house, and his ma picked up.” His voice was stilted,
fraught with distress. “I asked when Bert was coming to Annie’s and she just
goes ‘what?’ like I’m losing my fucking mind, ‘Bertolt left to come to the
party about an hour ago.’"
Any laughter rang hollow. Now Reiner's voice was low, hysterical and had some
much concern wreathed in it Eren thought he might be sick. “Guys he left an
hour ago, and he isn’t here, so where the fuck is he?”
***** Love Will Tear Us Apart *****
Chapter Notes
     I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY (kind of)
REINER’S POV
Reiner had abandoned the chaos of Annie’s room with a hop, skip and a jump over
Sasha and Connie who were still fucking attached at the mouth. At heart Reiner
thought it was sweet, but it was also Sasha and Connie. He flicked Connie’s
shaved scalp as he passed them, determinedly trekking downstairs to get to the
phone.
“Hey, quit that you, you fastidious fuck-trumpet!” Sasha laughed wholeheartedly
at Connie’s completely un-witty repartee, and Reiner inwardly thanked the lord
that those pair of idiots had found each other. If not their respective
partners would have probably murdered them by now.
He got to the phone and dialled Bertolt’s home number. He was more pissed off
than anything else, and a little worried. Had the time of them being a part,
even a matter of hours, convinced Bertolt that he was better off without
Reiner?
His ma picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, Hoover household”
“Hi Mrs Hoover, it’s Reiner.”
“Oh hello Reiner, how can I help you?” her voice warmed, a testament to how
close Bertolt and Reiner had become over the years; his parents fawned over
him. Although he wasn’t sure they’d been so keen if they found out he was
currently in the process of pursuing a relationship with him. Reiner pushed
these thoughts from his mind and replied.
“I was just wondering when Bertolt was going to come over to Annie’s? We’ve
been expecting him for a few hours now.”
“What?”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Reiner sweetheart, Bertl left for Annie’s more than an hour ago, by my watch.”
“..What?”
Reiner’s blood ran hot, then cold; the simultaneously scalding and icy rush in
his veins causing him to shake.
“His truck is gone and everything.. Are you telling me he hasn’t made it over?”
He barely heard Mrs Hoover’s voice through the ringing sensation piercing his
ears, he was going into fully-blown catatonic panic mode.
“No, he hasn’t. I’m going to go look for him now. I’ll be in contact.”
Reiner methodically hung up the phone and walked up the stairs, one step at a
time. He felt like he was floating. Where was Bertolt? Had he ran off, or been
mugged? A thousand scenarios, each as catastrophic as the last raced through
Reiner’s mind.
He stumbled into Annie’s room, half blind and dumb with shock. Bertolt. His
Bertolt, was missing. The room was alive with laughter and Connie was being
knocked on his ass by Jean, but the hit of adrenaline coursing around his
system had caused his drunken state to evaporate almost instantly.
Armin was the first to notice him, standing by the door like he was caught
between two alternate dimensions. In one his friends were safe and happy and
giggling their tits off at some dumb escapade; and in the other all he could
see was Bertolt, Bertolt dying, Bertolt bleeding, the light in his olive eyes
long extinguished.
“What’s up Rei?” He asked cautiously.
“It’s Bert. I called his house, and his ma picked up.” Reiner’s quaking voice
shattered the laughter in the room. It sounded alien and brittle, even to
himself.
“I asked when Bert was coming to Annie’s and she just goes ‘what?’ like I’m
losing my fucking mind, ‘Bertolt left to come to the party about an hour ago.’"
He could feel his grip slipping. Faces stared back at him, a mixture of
stricken and uncomprehending “Guys he left an hour ago, and he isn’t here, so
where the fuck is he?”
Reiner’s voice properly broke then, and his shoulders began shaking in earnest.
The room was deadly silent, only the faint strains of music reverberating
through the air.
‘..Yet there's still this appeal, that we've kept through our lives. But love,
love will tear us apart again.'
Joy Divison? Reiner thought, are you guys fucking serious? Armin was the first
to snap out of his stupefied state. “Okay, so what do we know, that he left his
place but never arrived here? Was he walking..?”
Reiner shook his head, glad that someone was in a decent enough state to make a
competent plan. “She said his truck was gone from the drive.” Armin nodded
curtly before standing up. “Alright guys, Connie you go with Marco and Hanji to
check around Maria Road for him, okay? Sasha, you Eren and Annie search the
park. Mikasa, take Levi and Jean with you to look around Sina Street. Reiner,
you and I will head to Rose Terrace and have a look around there for him. If
you don’t see anything, meet outside Annie’s and we’ll broaden our search,
everyone got that?”
The teenagers nodded blearily, spurned into action and pseudo-sobriety by the
solemnity of the situation. Reiner felt himself being led by the hand
downstairs by Annie, the ground flitting beneath his feet like a mirage. He
felt like he was floating an inch above everything else in this hyper-reality.
He scarcely felt the brisk night air lash over his skin as he listlessly
followed the blonde head in front of him, one foot in front of the other was
all his mind could cope with at the moment. He felt Annie pull him into a brief
hug which expressed all the anguished words she couldn’t say right now, and
push him down the road after Armin.
The adrenaline that had kept him wired for a few minutes was dulling into a
headache and a bad case of the spins now, Reiner had drunk six or so shots and
something evil and absurd had possessed him to knock down two of the weird
pills that Connie and Hanji had been stuffing their faces with all night.
Armin turned around the corner in front of him, before coming back around and
blocking Reiner’s way. He look like he had been bitch-slapped by a ghost.
“Rei, don’t go round there okay? I’m gonna knock at this house here and ask to
use their phone. Just sit tight, please.”
Armin turned and started up a quaint garden path. Reiner’s discombobulated mind
struggled to scoop up the connotations of what Armin had just said to him,
splintered fragments which bounced around his uncomprehending brain like
shrapnel.
Don’t go around the corner, he’s using someone’s phone.
Why did he need a phone? Why couldn’t Reiner go around the corner?
Then it hit him with a force akin to the first time Reiner had slipped up on
the football field and been tackled; mean momentum knocking the wind out of him
and eyes rolling back with shock as he tumbled to the floor mid-stride. Before
he had regained control of his capacities, he felt his feet moving, he was
running, running around the street corner.
A familiar red truck was there, beat-up and much loved. If he squinted, he
could probably see where his name was scratched into the familiar trailer’s
paint-job. Except the truck was alien too. In this parallel dimension where
Reiner was trapped, the cab was dented in, a monstrous curvature of metal had
steepled inwards. It was opposite another incoming road, shunted by force up
onto the pavement.
That was Bertolt’s red truck. Bertolt’s red truck had been T-boned. Reiner’s
legs didn’t stop moving; he ran onwards, stumbling across asphalt and gas
gushing out of the disfigured truck. He didn’t stop running until he reached
the cab. The glass was shattered to the point he couldn’t see past all the
white cravasses and in desperation he tried the passenger door which was jammed
shut in it’s mauled state.
He hopped the bonnet and tried the other door, which was dented but usable.
Reiner wrenched it open, and burst into tears like a little girl.
There sat his Bertolt. Bertolt he had walked home and kissed goodbye a matter
of hours ago, sat pallid and unmoving. His head was oozing out scarlet, and a
chunk of glass from the windscreen had gruesomely embedded itself in his
shoulder. The dashboard had cracked and shifted on impact so it was weighing
down heavily on his long, lithe legs.
“Bertolt? Bertolt open your goddamn eyes.” Reiner’s voice sounded unfamiliar to
him, quavering and cracking with a little sob worming it’s way out. He reached
into the cab but didn’t dare dislodge him- rationally he knew that it would
take more than a brawny teenage boy to shift the weight of the dashboard off
him. Trembling, he took Bertolt’s hand. It was cold, and Reiner couldn’t bear
to take a pulse.
He leant his head into Bertolt’s chest which smelt of diesel and distress and
Reiner’s coconut-scented laundry detergent, and clutched his hand to his own
chest. There he stood, sobbing until it felt like his throat was lined with
wire and his eyes ached. Until the sound of police sirens began to echo down
the suburbs.
***** When The Levee Breaks *****
Chapter Notes
     YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE A HAPPY STORY??!?!!?
     yeah me too. *sobs and curses my dastardly imagination*
     Anyways, enjoy!
JEAN’S POV
Being stuck in a hospital waiting room for the best part of six hours had
stripped Jean down the most basic of instincts. The primary one being concern;
every time a doctor walked through he flinched up in his seat like someone had
jammed a tazer up his ass and decided to have some fun. He needed news,
information, anything on Bertolt. But alas every time he gave an aborted spasm
in the direction of one of the medical staff they would just shake their head
sadly at him and keep moving through the room.
The secondary one was discomfort, said seat was having a dire effect on said
ass. He felt like his backside had been moulded flat by the uncomfortable
surface, and almost twelve hours awake was starting to take it’s toll. Next to
him sat Connie, in a similarly comatose state. Eren and Levi were sat two seats
down, hands entwined and talking in low voices. Sasha was there too, literally
comatose. She was dead asleep against Connie’s shoulder, his lean arm wrapped
around her protectively.
Lastly was Marco. Last time he had seen him had been on Sina Street, his mind
was muddy with the ebb and flow of his sobriety sloshing around in his skull,
but he could sort of recall their parting. Eren’s vicious impy boyfriend was
there and so was Mikasa, He could remember Marco holding him in the muggy night
breeze, pressing a hurried kiss in his two-tone hair and whispering fiercely,
“stay safe, Jean.”
And with that he was tearing away after Connie and Hanji down the road, leaving
Jean to mumble “I love you” to thin air. Parts of the evening came rolling back
to him in fragments and snatches. The wail of the ambulance, falling as he ran
to keep pace with Mikasa and Levi, (the damned athletic weirdos) as they all
sprinted towards the source of the cacophony. Reiner in fits of tears as they
all watched, stricken as the medics sawed chunks of metal off and away from
Bertolt’s broken frame.
They stood like gargoyles, frozen and grotesque as he was loaded into the
ambulance and driven away towards the hospital, the banshee-like echo
reverberating around the desolated streets. From there Armin had taken charge,
herding them all back to the house with Levi and Annie’s help. Once there he
had called Ymir, asking if she could drive some of them to the hospital. Those
people had ended up being Jean himself, Levi riding shotgun, Eren to his left
and Connie with Sasha on his lap to the right.
Armin had promised they would come in the morning to see how Bertolt was doing,
with the additional gifts of food and a change of clothes. He had made Reiner
stay behind too, despite his arguments to the contrary.
Jean took a moment to reflect on how invaluable Armin was; Reiner was drunk and
heartbroken and staunchly set on coming with them to the hospital, but Armin
had sat him down, said a few quiet words into his ear and he had relinquished
his protests in favour of sitting in silence.
Jean had almost prefered it when he was yelling and getting pissed off, at
least then he hadn’t seemed so defeated. He wished he could sleep, just to rid
himself of some of the anxiety that was lapping at him like waves, each
stronger and more determined than the last.
For the first time in a week, Jean felt the twitch in his eye that made him
want to dive for the pills and sedate himself out of caring. Over the past
seven days he had smothered himself in Marco’s presence and that had eased
withdrawal symptoms, although he still lay awake long after Marco had drifted
off the sleep in his arms.
He may be a beautiful little freckled Jesus, but he wasn’t a quick-fix for
every stupid problem in Jean’s life. It didn’t change his ruined sleeping
pattern, or his hot temper; nor his affinity with depression or the fact he
hadn’t seen his parents physically in a week, nor emotionally eye to eye with
either of them since he was ten years old.
Jean pushed these thoughts away; now really wasn’t the time for self-pity. One
of his closest friends was possibly in the process of dying right now, and
there really wasn’t not a fucking thing anyone could do about it. He decided to
focus on his almighty headache, the glaring white of the rising sun reflecting
off the pristine walls doing nothing to remedy it.
“-Are you even fucking listening to me? JEAN!”
He snapped out of his stupor and angled his head towards Eren, who was
irritatedly calling his name. “Yuh?” He said eloquently.
“I said, do you know when Marco and that are going to get here with food and
clothes and shit?”
“Nuh.” Jean replied succinctly.
Marco. Man, he missed Marco. He would do almost anything for triads of freckles
and strong arms wrapped around him right now.
Moments stretched out like hours, only punctuated by the coughing of old people
also taking refuge in the waiting room and Connie tapping a nervous rhythm on
his knee until Jean mustered the energy to elbow him in the gut and telling him
to knock it the fuck off.
His thoughts rotated mechanically;
Bertolt.
Man I need a coffee.
Bertolt.
This chair is going to fucking kill me.
I need Marco here.
Bertolt.
Pills.
Bertolt.
I am so tired but I don’t think I can sleep.
I hope Reiner’s okay.
Bertolt.
Marco.
My head feels like Eren’s pride does every time we play beer pong.
Bertolt.
It continued around the agonizing loop, only pausing to jolt at every passing
doctor who in turn walked past, some with sympathetic looks and others
wondering if he was some poor kid they had over-prescribed ritalin to. Time was
difficult to gauge here, a clock’s hypnotic ticking reverberating through the
room but for the life of him Jean couldn’t figure out where the stupid thing
was.
Minutes or hours later there was a sudden influx of teenagers in the waiting
room. Without a thought, Jean seeked out Marco and threw himself his arms,
taking a long deep breath of his lavender scent. Marco giggled a little at his
clingy embrace before drawing back.
“You smell like hangovers.” He said, Jean’s blunt, adorable knight in freckled
armour. “I brought you, uh.” Marco gestured downwards to the objects cradled in
his arms between them. Jean saw his favourite pair of jeans, his Stones shirt,
and lord be blessed, a packet of cigarettes and some packaged Taco Bell.
“Holy shit, I love you so fucking much.” Jean blurted out before pulling Marco
into a much-needed kiss. It caused a myriad of throat-clearing amongst the
other waiting room dwellers, and the old man who had been suspiciously eying
Jean’s haircut before to have a fully-blown coughing fit.
Not that Jean really gave a damn, the old git could rupture his lung for all he
cared right now. When he drew away Marco gave him a tender smile and smoothed
down his wayward hair, what, after this long awake he was allowed to look a
little dishevelled.
“You taste like hangovers too.” Marco quipped. Jean just stuck his tongue out
and said his hellos around the group before scarpering off to change into his
fresh clothes and neck down his taco at a potentially dangerous speed.
He emerged minutes later, with a cigarette in his mouth. The newcomers had
integrated themselves into the twitching anxiety of the waiting room; Annie sat
with an arm around Reiner, murmuring soothing noises. Man, Jean wasn’t an
unsympathetic guy or anything but Reiner looked like shit. His face was a
crumpled blur of bloodshot eyes and the grey bags lining them. Ymir and Krista
were sat with Armin and Mikasa, who was handing Eren and Levi a change of
clothes each. Marco was with a now roused Sasha, who was putting away burritos
even faster than Jean had. Connie sat with her, eating at a slightly more
measured pace and trying to fill Marco in on what had happened.
Jean stood still, observing the scene and enjoying the sensation of fresh
underwear against his balls. After a minute, Ymir stood up with a packet of
smokes and gestured for him to come out with her. He obliged, Levi and Marco
also joining them.
It felt a little ironic to Jean, sparking a cigarette outside a hospital’s
entrance, but he did it anyway, relaxing into the familiar burn in his throat
and Marco’s arms around his waist. “So, what’s happened since I dropped you
guys off?” Ymir asked as she exhaled a lungful of smoke.
“Shit-all would be an exaggeration. Think less than shit-all. Negative shit-all
in fact.” Levi said scowling. “Last they told us was that he was in surgery,
followed by five hours of getting blanked by every douchey little intern that
walked by.”
Jean nodded, corroborating his story. “We literally don’t know a fucking thing.
How’s everyone else been holding up?”
Ymir blew out another cloud of the noxious vapours before she began talking.
“Reiner’s been in a fucking state obviously, and Annie hasn’t been that much
better. She’s just better at not showing it. Christa’s putting on a brave face,
bless her,” Ymir blushed a little, affection for the tiny blonde shining
through every pore on her face before her expression set grimly again, “and
Mikasa and Armin have been running around trying to keep everyone together.
Hanji had to go to work but she says she’ll be here as soon as her shift’s
done.”
Levi nodded and Marco hooked his chin over Jean’s shoulder to sneak a drag off
his cigarette and press a quiet kiss into his earlobe. The silence settled for
a few moments, until Connie came bombing out the double doors which led to the
hospital foyer.
“Guys.” He gasped, needing a moment to recover before spitting out whatever he
had to say. “A doctor is here. He has news.”
Without a word they all crushed out there respective cigarettes and bolted
indoors, adrenaline fuelling Jean’s exhausted limbs. They skidded into the
reception across the laminated tiles Breakfast Club-style; although they
weren’t avoiding a douchey teacher, rather trying to hunt down a douchey doctor
who hadn’t told them shit for about seven hours.
They joined the cluster of their friends around a tall, solemn looking member
of the medical staff. “..Mr Hoover has sustained a series of injuries, notably
a large shard of glass in his shoulder which we removed without much trouble.”
A collective sigh raced around the group, but Jean didn’t join in. From what he
had seen, a dirty great chunk of glass was the least of Bertolt’s concerns.
“However,” the doctor continued, face looking a little more grim, “his legs are
fairly mangled. Considering the damage we’ve assessed he could make anything
from a full recovery to having serious motor problems for the rest of his
life.” The collective sigh was gasped back in again.
“And furthermore, he has considerable head trauma. At the moment he is in an
induced coma and we’re going to have to monitor his progress. I won’t lie to
you kids, it’s all very touch-and-go at the moment.”
The collective sigh stayed lodged in their throats, until Reiner spoke up “Can
we see him?” His voice was rough and ragged, totally devoid of it’s usual
charisma. The doctor nodded. “Two or three at a time please, and obviously the
local authority will be wanting a proper inquiry as to what happened last
night.”
Nods circulated around the room and Reiner moved to follow the doctor, pulling
Annie along with him. She scanned around the room, her gaze falling onto Jean.
“Kirstein. He said two or three. Come on.”
Her words were blunt and Jean couldn’t quite see the logic between bringing
him, but he didn’t question it. He was pretty close with the guy; not Reiner-
close but even so, they had spent copious amounts of time at the arcade
together over the years and Jean was pretty emotionally stoic compared to some
of the other idjits out there. He knew neither Annie nor Reiner could be
dealing with theatrics right now.
He followed the blonde duo, their steps ringing through the halls like a
funeral drum. The room Bertolt was in was small, and Jean really wasn’t
prepared for the sight in front of him. He was so.. still. Even not in motion
Bertolt had always been a fidget, constantly tapping and tinkering or smoking a
cigarette. His shoulder was wrapped in thick layers of gauze and his legs had
the covers drawn over them.
Jean was grateful for that, he wasn’t sure he could cope with seeing the full
extent of damage that the crushed dashboard had done to his lanky frame. He was
hooked up to more kinds of IVs and oxygen bags than Jean knew how to name, but
that didn’t stop Reiner taking the seat next to him and interlacing their
fingers.
“Hey Bertl-Turtle.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to his pale knuckles. Jean’s
eyebrows initially raised so high in surprise he was amazed they didn’t simply
get absorbed into his hairline, but he smothered his shock that beefy man’s-man
Reiner was into guys and returned back into reeling over Bertolt’s broken body.
“The doctor said you’re doing good, I think you’re gonna be fine baby. You’re
too strong to let something like this shut you down, eh?” Reiner continued to
gently talk to Bertolt, fingertips gently caressing his hand. Jean couldn’t
move, let alone speak. Annie was rooted to the group beside him, tears silently
rolling down her face in a rare display of emotion.
Without thinking Jean pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her
slight frame, gazing at the tragic scene in front of him as she buried her face
in his chest and sobbed silently.
***** There Is A Light That Never Goes Out *****
Chapter Notes
     SORRY ABOUT TAKING FOREVER TO UPDATE; I AM SCUM, I KNOW.
     But it's an extra-long chapter as apology for my scumminess.
     Thank you a million times over for you support: every comment,
     bookmark and kudos makes me smile when I see it.
     As always, hope you enjoy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
JEAN’S POV
Leaving the hospital room behind, Jean had felt like a fragment of his former
self. Watching his friends decay in front of him, Bertolt physically, Reiner
mentally and Annie even emotionally had driven a painful realism to the tragedy
unfolding before his eyes. He had walked ten paces forward, then eleven right,
straight into the arms of Marco.
He had abandoned his faith aged eleven and sceptical in the face of the divine,
but in that moment he had prayed, prayed for Bertolt’s body and Reiner’s mind,
for Annie’s heart and for Marco’s arms to never leave their position, one
wrapped around his waist and the other gently moving in circles on his shoulder
blades. Kind figures of eight, which seemed to sear themselves into his very
soul.
He loved Marco in that moment, as much as he had ever loved him and more.
Perhaps it was that then he appreciated him as much as he always should have
done. He only let himself break hours from then, on a burgundy couch once Mr
and Mrs Bodt had gone to sleep And there he let Marco hold him again, ribs
shaking and fingers clutching to freckled biceps, framing concerning eyes and
their whisky hues in calloused fingertips.
Jean let himself fall apart in those arms, letting cupid’s bow lips and kind
smiles soothe his heart, only leaving his side for a cigarette on the street
once the other boy had fallen asleep. Leaving the next morning was slow and
painful, like tearing off a band-aid a millimetre at a time. A dozen kisses
later and a slow walk back to his house, a fresh cigarette in hand, Jean was
home. Much to his chagrin, so were his parents. He walked in the house, taking
his time removing the jacket which had come to smell of lavender and pine, like
Marco’s house, and his heavy boots.
Entering the sitting room, his parents were in the dreaded position one on
couch, both with identical pursed lips and frowning brows.
“Jean, darling, please sit down.” his mother began. Jean obediently sat in the
armchair, knowing that obstinance would get him nowhere with his mother.
“We need to talk to you, about some things.” His father continued solemnly.
“I, I noticed a lot of the mediciene in the cabinet missing.” Mrs Kirstein’s
voice faltered only slightly before resuming her business-like tone. “Your
father and I have been growing concerned for a while about, well, the company
you’re keeping at the moment, and the way your dressing, and oh- sweetheart you
looked so handsome before you started wearing all that silly metal in your
face, and-”
“Mom. Please, is there a point to all this?” Jean didn’t mean to sound so
harsh, but hey, getting shit from everyone about everything was something he
had grown accustomed to.
“Don’t take that tone with us, young man.” Mr Kirstein had always been a little
less tactless than his wife, a stern expression blooming across his face. His
mother’s brows remained on ‘detatched concern’.
“What we’re trying to say is, we’re worried about you. That ambien is no joke,
and if you’re struggling it puts us in a very difficult position.” Jean openly
scoffed at that, of course it would be unbecoming of his mother to admit she
was worried, no it had to be a ‘difficult position’. Something vague enough to
not translate to ‘we are literally never here, sorry you’re acting so fucked
up’.
“I know. I’ve stopped taking it. There was.. I was feeling pretty shitty, but
I’m okay now. I promise.” Even as he said the words, Jean felt his migraine
spike and his fingers twitched with the desire for something that could knock
him out, maybe for a meagre eight hours just so he could catch up on sleep and
forget the shit-filled maelstrom his life had morphed into.
Now his mother frowned. “There is no need for that kind of language. Do I have
your word that you’re done with this kind of absurdity?” Jean nodded sullenly,
and made an internal promise to get so fucked up that evening that people would
need subtitles to understand him. He couldn’t stand that his mother took issue
with his cussing, rather than that he had sloped into needing drugs to sleep.
“Is that everything then?” Jean moved to stand up, but the stony expression on
his parents faces melted him back into the armchair.
“No, we’ve been thinking that our.. Absence has caused this rebellious streak
in your appearance and choice in company-”
“Jesus Christ dad, I don’t dress like this because I practically live alone
aged seventeen, I just like it okay? And my friends are not an issue. They’re
good people, honestly.”
“-and we think we might have found a solution to this issue.”
Jean’s interupption had gone totally unnoticed as his father ploughed on with
his speech, but now his interest was piqued. “Yeah? What were you thinking?”
Now Mrs Kirstein piped up once more. “Well, darling, seeing as your father and
I spend so much time in Nedlay anyway, we were considering.. Relocating there,
up north. Permanently, and well, you’d be starting your Junior year this
September and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get you a place at the academy
there, and-”
Jean felt like he had been sucker-punched by a gigantic, angry gorilla.
“Wait, what. Back the fuck up. No.” His parents inhaled sharply at his swearing
but like father, like son, he continued talking anyway. “I am not moving to
Nedlay. No way. My entire life is here in Stohess!”
His mother gave him a weary, patronising look, the same one she gave him as a
child when he complained that they were never home, or when she explained that
they couldn’t go to the park today because mother and father are busy with
work. It was a look that said, you’re too young to understand. Well now Jean
wasn’t too young thank you very much. “Jean sweetie, you will make new friends.
And Nedlay has an outstanding sports programme-”
“No mom, you aren’t listening to me. I’m not going. I can’t go.”
He thought at once of all the things he would move, upping and leaving to the
city. Armin, Mikasa, even stupid shitty Eren, poor broken Bertolt and Reiner,
Annie when she needed him most, Sasha and Connie and all their dumbfuckery,
Ymir, Christa, Marco. Marco. The boy he wanted to have by his side now and
always. Whisky-hued eyes and a scent like flowers. Living without that would be
awful, ugly and unbearable. He needed a smile and freckled hands to make the
world beautiful in his eyes.
“Please. Don’t make me go. Everything I have is here.” Jean begged, tears
welling up now as he reflected on all he would lose. Warm nights in the desert
and long walks in the park with his arm around Marco’s waist; the sound of his
friends laughing together and a kiss waking him up in the morning.
“Jean.” His father said with a warning tone. “It is not up for discussion.”
Even through the blurry veil of tears, Jean knew that was it. He couldn’t sway
his parents, not now, not ever. He stood up and walked out, ignoring his
parents protests. He grabbed the jacket and shoes he had shed only minutes ago,
before his world had been seized and twisted upside down. He strode straight
out the house, only putting on his shoes once he was halfway down the road. He
sat on the asphalt and pulling them on one by one, convulsive sobs making his
hands shake uncontrollably.
He stood up and walked after that, not even smoking because his lungs felt
tight enough as it was. He made it to downtown before he really clocked where
he was going, the hour or so walked vanished in his distressed state. He
wandered from there, avoiding the mall and the bar where Eren, Levi and Erwin
worked. He couldn’t cope with sympathy right now, not when Bertolt’s need was
greater than his.
A snide part of his mind mocked him for being so pathetic, Bertolt was
potentially dying for fucks sake, and here he was blubbing over moving towns.
But Jean let his legs carry him until they ached, and he wound up under a neon
sign, blaring ‘TATTOO AND PIERCINGS’.
He scarcely considered his actions before he walked in, deciding that he may as
well do the most rebellious thing he could before being shipped off to live
amongst strangers. The guy behind the desk looked up, bemused. “Hi, do you have
an appointment?” He asked kindly.
Jean imagined he looked a hot mess right now, eyes red and itching for the
sheer amount of tears that had poured from them. “I.. No. But I think I know
what I want done. Do you have a free slot?” The guy looked him up and down,
evaluating him before nodding. “Sure. Why don’t you take a seat over there?” He
gestured towards a collection of cushy chairs where Jean promptly parked his
ass.
He wasn’t lying, he did know what he wanted done. On his ribs, where it hurt
the most, Jean wanted one of the owls that Armin always doodled on napkins in
diners, with accents of the red from Mikasa’s scarf, and the teal of Eren’s
eyes, although the bruising alone would remind him of Jaeger; he wanted it to
have one of the intricate wings bound in a bandage, for Reiner and Bertolt and
Annie and the recovery he hoped they would make. He wanted the shading to mimic
the tribal scrawls that Ymir had tattooed on her ankle, and the feathers around
it’s twisted ears to look like the peach fuzz which covered Connie’s head. He
wanted the base colour to be the same shade as Sasha’s hair, and the whole
thing to have the effortless elegance of Christa. More than anything he wanted
it to have the same ochre eyes as Marco, so a part of him would always be near
Jean’s heart.
So that’s what he drew, with a stubby pencil on a slightly battered scrap of
paper in that cushy chair, until the receptionist wandered over and said that
one of the artists had some free time. He showed the artist the paper, who
looked it over before nodding. “Sure, I can do this. Where would you want it?”
When Jean pointed to the top of his ribs, he raised an eyebrow but didn’t
question it.
Sitting in the chair, with the sharp scent of ink around him, Jean felt more at
home than he had any one place in years. Music drifted through the shop,
meandering guitar and lyrics.
'Driving in your car, I never never want to go home. Because I haven't got one
anymore.'
For once Jean actually related to Morrissey. The Smiths distracted him a little
but the pain, obviously, was unreal, but he stuck it out and only winced a
little as the needle buzzed straight over the bones in his ribcage.
'..And if a double-decker bus, crashes in to us, to die by your side is such a
heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by
your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine.'
An hour and a half later, he felt the cool relief of the artist drying off the
ink before handing him the after-care kit. Glancing down, Jean felt a swell in
his chest. Sure it was dumb and impulsive, but that owl perched on his torso
felt right in the same way that Marco’s lips did against his and the slide of
whisky did down his throat.
He stood up and breathed sharply as the movement tugged on the tender skin, but
took on determined step, then another to the front desk, handing over the forty
dollars he owed them and leaving, feeling better and worse for his rash
decision. Jean wandered around a little longer before finding a payphone and
trying to figure out who to call. The natural choice was Marco, but the wounds
were too raw for Jean to expose them to Marco so soon; because he would be
moody and unpleasant and that would upset Marco, so he would have to explain
his behavior and it would get worse all over again.
He needed someone who accept his dark mood and not question it, just leave him
be to brood until he left again. Dialling Ymir’s number felt like the right
thing to do, as she picked up on the third ring.
“Yullo? Ymir speaking.”
“Hey, Ymir? It’s Jean. I kind of.. Need a place to crash tonight.”
“Huh, well I’m working tonight and then going to Chrissy’s, but I’ll leave a
key out if you want? You don’t sound in the mood to be throwing any wild
parties on my premises without me there.”
“I, uh, nah. I’m downtown now.. But I’ll walk up soonish.”
“You sure you don’t want a lift? I’ve got another hour until I have to get to
work.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Alrighty kiddo, stay safe. There’s liquor in the cabinet but if you puke, I
won’t just make you clean it up; I’ll make you eat it. Capiche?”
“Yup. Bye. Uh, thank you for this.”
“No worries. Bye.”
Jean always underestimated Ymir’s ability to be awesome, he thought as he began
the long trudge back to the suburbs. She was detached enough to be good in a
crisis, but gave good advice when it was necessary or she had got a few drinks
down her. He arrived at her condo to an empty drive, so fished under the mat
for a few seconds before finding the key.
He made his way upstairs slowly, to avoid aggravating the skin around the fresh
tattoo, before taking a shower. Jean coated the tattoo in the ointment the
artist had given him first as per instructed, then indulging himself in some
coconut shower cream and shampoo that looked way too girly to belong to rough-
tough Ymir.
Afterwards he towelled himself off and went to the spare bedroom, dressing the
tattoo with the bandages he could find. It was only six in the evening, but
Jean felt exhausted and slumped into bed, only to find his mind restless and
limbs spasming with anxiety. Following Ymir’s advice he went to the cupboard in
the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of spiced rum.
He took three pulls straight from the bottle before scavenging around for a
glass and knocking back two measures of the acrid liquid straight off the bat.
After that his mind felt muggy enough to let him drift off to sleep upstairs,
his dreams full of strangers with pursed lips and owls that spoke with Marco’s
voice.
Chapter End Notes
     Just FYI, inspiration for Jean's tattoo came vaguely from this: http:
     //www.gettattoed.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/gloom-owl-tattoo-
     design.jpg
***** Love Cats *****
Chapter Notes
     So, I haven't updated in approximately two billion years and for that
     I apologise, hope you like this chapter c:
EREN’S POV
Nestled in sheets, with his arms wrapped around Levi’s slumbering form and a
soft mattress beneath him, Eren could almost forget how awful the last four
days had been. Last night they had worked their usual shift together in The
Pirripin, only pausing from tossing drinks out left, right, and to the off-
kilter to briefly talk to Connie, Sasha and Annie who came by to share a drink
and give them an update.
Reiner had officially running for five days on five hours of sleep, and there
was no change in Bertolt’s condition. His parents were there now with Reiner,
who staunchly refused to leave his bedside unless it was to get a fresh change
of clothes from Annie or shower in the grimy hospital washroom.
Eren listened to the gentle inhale and exhale sounds that Levi made as he
slept, letting it soothe his mind and he shuffled closer, letting his chest lie
flush with Levi’s pale back. He took the time to properly admire the myriad of
inky drawings which spiralled over his boyfriend’s shoulder blades and down
over his spine.
There was a bold crest on his right shoulder blade, a navy blue and white
pattern interlinked which made up a pair of wings. Spooling off that was an
intricate knot of lines, which became more legible as he traced them down with
his eyes, ending in an elaborate drawing of an old-fashioned key.
Eren ached to follow the dark strips of ink with his fingertips, but he would
feel like an absolute cock if he woke Levi up when he was sleeping so
peacefully. He couldn’t count the number of times he had fallen asleep whilst
Levi remained wakeful; the dark bags under Levi’s eyes were not a natural
occurrence.
So instead he continued to observe the tattoos latticing alabaster skin. On the
opposite shoulder to the crest, there was a monochrome illustration of a woman
in profile, with a tiara framing Cinderella-esque hair. It was subtle but
enthralling, the slightly less cool and heteronormative part of Eren’s brain
thought that was a good representation of Levi himself.
He felt the slight frame stiffen a little in his arms before he heard icy drawl
he had come to tolerate so much.
“Are you quite finished ogling my tattoos, you shit-brained little twerp?”
The insult was muffled by sleep and half a pillow, so it lacked bite and Eren
actually had the balls to chuckle before pressing a kiss to the back of Levi’s
neck and reply.
“Yup. They’re gorgeous-”
“If you say ‘like you’, I swear to Christ Eren, I will kick you in the throat.
I feel like trash.”
Again, the insult was ruined by Levi rolling over and nuzzling his face into
the crook of Eren’s neck. He made a sympathetic noise and tenderly ran his
fingers through Levi’s cropped hair. “Are you feeling okay? And I’m gonna say
like you anyways, I doubt your foot can reach my neck from all the way down
there.”
And just like that, the moment was simultaneously ruined and made perfect. Eren
burst out laughing as Levi swung his foot to connect with his shin before
jamming his fingers into Eren’s armpit and making him squirm.
“OH FUCK, Levi fucking hell have mercy, MERCY!” Eren was practically screaming
before Levi decided to leave him be with the tickling, taking the covers with
him too because he’s a petty little bitch like that sometimes.
“I can’t believe you would exploit my weakness like that, you, you harlot.”
Eren wheezed, clutching at his ribs to ensure none of them had be irrevocably
damaged by the violent hate-crime he had just undergone.
Levi just grinned at his discomfort and pecked him on the end of his nose.
“That will teach you to make jokes at a man because of his stature. Be an
darling and put some coffee on? If I don’t have a shower I think I’ll
spontaneously combust into a violent fireball of disgust at my standard of
hygiene right now.”
Eren rolled his eyes at his melodrama, Levi had a shower the previous day at
his house whilst Mikasa, Annie and himself gave making hash brownies their
first shot. Suffice to say, they were shit. Annie said they would learn from
their failure though, and valiantly vowed try again soon.
Mikasa said they would be better if Eren wasn’t such a cheap shit who had opted
to buy skunk instead of their usual strain of Columbian. Eren said that it
wasn’t his fault that they were undeserving of their title of ‘homemakers’;
neither of the girls could cook for shit.
Levi had simply come downstairs with damp hair and another combination of
Eren’s clothes on and flipped his shit a full 360 degrees over the state of the
kitchen before tidying up every square inch of it.
Eren giggled quietly at the memory of Levi’s stricken face as he glanced around
the warzone that had once been the Jaeger family kitchen.
“Are you going to sit there giggling like a fucking mental patient all day?”
Levi asked through the open door.
Eren blushed at being caught in his thoughts. “Nah, sorry I’ll go make that
coffee.”
Levi’s eyes flashed with a mischievous light, which Eren had come to learn
either meant he was about to get laid, get into trouble, or get dared to kiss
Jean again like he had at Annie’s. He gave an involuntary full-body shudder at
the memory before snapping back to reality.
“I changed my mind, forget the coffee.” Levi said before heading off into the
bathroom.
Eren sat there listlessly for a few moments, before Levi called out from over
the sound of running water. “So? Are you gonna join me or what. numbnuts?”
Eren swore he got whiplash from the sheer speed at which he got into the
bathroom from Levi’s bed.
Levi just chuckled at his enthusiasm, sidling over underneath the warm spray of
water to allow them to both fit in the cubicle. Twenty minutes later they were
in the kitchen, skin damp and hard-ons gradually fading after being spent over
Levi’s shower door and Eren’s mouth, respectively.
Eren was enjoying the combination of sunlight streaming into the room and
warming his back, the post-orgasm euphoria, and his almost scandalously
attractive boyfriend making him a morning coffee.
He sat on the counter accepted the mug gratefully and sipped at it before
remembering something.
“Shit, Lee what’s the date today?”
“I’ll tell you when you stop trying to abbreviate my name, you can’t doubly-
abbreviate something, it’s a moral outrage.” he replied, rolling his eyes.
“Alright then, Lance Rivalle-”
Levi hissed at the use of his actual name. He had stubbornly refused to tell
Eren what it was, claiming it was ‘hideously gay’ and ‘as difficult to shake as
herpes, but even more unsightly’, until Eren had coaxed it out of him with a
combination of white wine and threatening to just ask Erwin, who would have it
on staff records at the bar.
“It’s the 21st, you ass.” Levi said, flipping him off before sauntering off to
get dressed properly beyond a long t-shirt which Eren was pretty sure belonged
to him anyway.
It was kind of staggering to Eren really, he had only met Levi a matter of
weeks ago, but already he had seeped into the very pores of Eren’s life, and
Eren his.
They spend almost all their time together, working, talking, drinking with
their chaotic mutual friends or having lazy days inside, watching movies on
Eren’s lame VCR or listening to Levi play on his piano. This, along with the
rest of the long break had made school totally escape his mind. The semester
started on the 3rd of September, less than two weeks away.
This made Eren nervous, not least because he fucking hated school, but also
because of what it would mean for him and Levi. At the moment, Levi treated him
as his equal but would he once Eren would have to start skipping shifts in
favour of homework? He ignored it most of the time, but now the age gap between
him and his boyfriend yawned open before him like an abyss. Six years was a
long time, and Eren feared that the unfortunate reality-check from the glorious
limbo he existed in between adult life and having almost no responsibilities
would remind Levi of that, that Eren was essentially, a kid.
He was silently absorbed in thought until Levi re-entered the room, in some
obscenely tight jeans and a Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt, who he was
obsessed with, but Eren didn’t really ‘get’ quite as much.
“Hey, what’s up?” Levi asked, his voice a little more gentle than usual.
“I go back to school Wednesday after next.” Eren replied in a small, sad voice.
He was nervous down to his core at what the consequences of those words would
be; Levi wanted a proper, normal, grown-up boyfriend, not some dorky almost-
seventeen year old kid who couldn’t go out on weeknights after the 3rd.
“Sucks to be you, nerd.” The words were light-hearted, teasing as Levi slotted
himself between Eren’s thighs and leant his head against Eren’s chest. He
almost started at how callous his response was.
“So that doesn’t.. Bother you?” He spoke tentatively, torn between wanting and
not wanting to evoke a reaction. On the one hand, he was desperate for Levi to
not give a shit about his age, but he if that wasn’t the case he wanted to hear
it now.
Eren couldn’t deny how attached he had become to the shorter man, and he knew
that if it persisted he would eventually fall for Levi, and he would fall hard.
His feelings were already blossoming between the blurred lines of ‘like’ and
‘love’, and Eren would prefer not to fall and hit the ground hard than never
take that dive at all, because he knew he would do it like he did everything;
with reckless abandon and no contingency plan in mind.
He had enough heartbreak in his short life already, despite that he knew his
mother would loathe for him to dwell on her death. Kalura was a beautiful woman
in life, vibrant and cheerful and never afraid to live for the moment, and Eren
knew she would want him to follow her example, but it was difficult sometimes.
Less so now that he and Mikasa were building their own family; a ragtag affair
of siblings and squabbles and weird incest, but a family nonetheless.
“Eren. Why would it bother me? You’re sixteen, not an infant. And I see the age
gap, I really do, but to be honest I remember being your age and nothing much
about me has changed since then, besides that I’m no longer bleach-blonde or
homeless.”
Levi’s words passed over him in a bizarre wash which took a minute for him to
internally decode.
“So.. I.. You went through a blond phase?”
Levi rolled his eyes and whapped him upside the head gently with his palm.
“Oh yeah, way to focus on the relevant shit going on there Eren. But yes, I was
blonde for a while and no I am not freaked out that you’re going back to
school.”
Eren sighed contentedly into Levi’s hair before kissing the tip of his ear.
“Thank shit for that. I was having a short panic that you’d find it really
weird and we wouldn’t see each other anymore and my life would suck.”
He hadn’t meant to show his hand quite so hard, but before he could backpedal
over his words, Levi was snorting with laughter.
“Oh ocean-eyes, to define is to limit.”
Now it was Eren’s turn to snort a little derisively. “Ocean-eyes?”
“Yeah, because you’re all-” Levi leaned back in Eren’s grasp to gesticulate at
his face “-turquoise and shit y’know? I was thinking it the entire time we were
Annie’s, you are nothing short of beautiful Eren.”
Eren blushed for the second time at Levi’s hand this morning, pulling him into
a chaste little kiss. “..Was that Dickens you just quoted?” Eren asked as their
mouths separated.
“Wilde, you ignoramus.” Levi snapped as he kissed Eren again, this time with
more ferocity.
As their tongues slid and teeth clacked together as their mouths fought for
dominance, Eren could already feel gravity tugging at his feet.
***** Paradise City *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry about the wait, things have been painfully hectic recently so I
     haven't had much (or in fact any) time to write. But not to worry,
     here is the latest chapter! Hope you enjoy it. x
CONNIE’S POV
Connie had never been one for rational or careful decision making, so when
Sasha plopped onto his bed after finishing her first shift of work at the
record shop in the mall and demanded they do something spontaneous to shake her
feeling of corporate absorption he had cracked up and agreed.
Not before reminding her that the record shop was privately owned however, and
then asking how the fuck she had got a key for his apartment. She rolled onto
her front and shrugged.
“Your brother gave it to me like two days ago after we got back from the bar,
you were making me mac and cheese and he said that he was counting on me to
look after you and not let you steal his weed anymore-”
Connie sat up abruptly. “That dirty liar! I pay for almost all of my gear, he’s
the little sleaze who steals in this household.”
Sasha patted his leg soothingly, “of course Cons, but yeah that’s the grand
tale of how I got a key to your apartment, sorry I forgot to mention it sooner,
what with me being an employed and active member of society..”
Connie snorted at her bragging and flicked her in the temple. It wasn’t an
unkind gesture, just one of loving familiarity. Nothing much had changed in the
short time that had been together, they still laughed and joked around the same
only now instead of wanting to, he could just simply lean across whatever gap
came between them and kiss her, feeling her stifled giggles sweet against his
mouth.
He was sat in his bed when she entered and unceremoniously slumped, and now the
comic he was reading sat propped open on his bare stomach. The stereo was still
gently playing Guns N’ Roses as he read the new installment in the latest
Daredevil saga which she had lent him a few days before, he was now in the
process of re-reading it and thoroughly engrossed. Sasha herself was now lying
on her front, arms supporting her chin, close enough so that she could rest her
head on his ankle.
Connie couldn’t suppress the warm clutch in his chest at how beautiful she
looked just then, loose chestnut hair spooled about her shoulders and the tank
top she wore for work showing off her slightly tanned collarbones and the soft
skin there, dotted with the occasional freckle. He couldn’t help but feel a tad
self-conscious, he was clothed only in boxers and the twin devils of laziness
and distraction in the form of comics had meant he hadn’t bothered taking a
shower since Sunday morning, it now being late Monday.
Sasha didn’t seem to care though, and poked him in the thigh to rouse some of
his attention. “Well? C’mon assbutt, what do you want to do?”
Connie stroked his chin in a moment of mock-pensiveness before breaking into a
grin. “I’ve got the perfect thing.”
“Hm? Well, let’s hear it?”
Connie pitched himself forward to run his hand through her hair as he spoke.
“So we can grab a shit-load of food, a shit-load of pot, and go out for a
romantic picnic. How about that?”
Sasha grinned and grabbed his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm before tangling
their fingers together. “Ugh, yes that does sound perfect. Connie you truly are
the one for me, you know that?”
Connie broke into a shit-eating little grin at her words and pulled her upwards
by their linked hands to press a kiss against the tip of her nose. “You get the
food, I’ll get the weed and meet back here in five?”
Sasha nodded excitedly and they shared a quick high-five before she disappeared
off to the kitchen. He sat there for a moment, boneless with happiness. None of
the mental planning or unconscious fantasies had proved anything close to how
awesome it was to have Sasha as his girlfriend.
He clambered up and checked under his bed, pulling out the battered shoe-box.
After ensuring there was at least an eighth of an ounce in there, he stuck on
some jeans and a slightly faded Def Leppard shirt which was originally either
his brother’s or Jean’s but fuck ‘em, finders keepers right? Then he scooped up
the little baggy and stuck it into his back pocket, along with some rolling
papers and a small strip of cardboard to make a roach out of before heading out
to the kitchen.
Sasha had made quick work of making some sandwiches and sticking some of the
last juice boxes in the packet in an old backpack of Connie’s. She gave him a
thumbs up and set about rooting around for some candy, and he was about to go
and help when the phone rang.
He sauntered over and picked it up, trying his best to ignore Sasha’s attempts
to make him laugh down the receiver.
“Yo, Springer residence.”
“Hey Connie, it’s Mikasa.”
“Heyy ‘Kasa what’s up?”
“Oooh is it Mikasa?” Sasha butted in, “tell her I say hi!”
“Nothing much Connie, um, wondering if you and Sasha want to come over
tomorrow? Like just to hang out and maybe make some actually decent hash
brownies? Everyone’s been a little distant these last few days what with
Bertolt’s.. Situation, and yeah we’re all gonna be there-”
“It’s okay Mikasa.” Connie interrupted her, if only to stop her babbling.
Mikasa was an incredibly strong woman, inside and out but she sometimes
struggled a little socially. But hey, Connie could relate. “We’ll be there.
Also, Sasha says hi.”
“You will? Awesome, hi back to Sasha. Um, yeah Annie was in the hospital today.
There’s still now much change with Bertolt, or Reiner for that matter.”
Connie cringed a little, worry for his friends making his insides feel too big
for it’s outsides.
“Alright thanks for letting me know, tomorrow when?”
“About five, oh hold on, Eren and his pet idiot are home.” He heard some hot
denial of that from the other end and decided not to intrude on the domestic
conflict waiting to happen. “Well, I’ll see you at my house.”
“Actually shouldn’t you say that Tu casa es... Mi-casa?”
Connie laughed hysterically even as she put the phone down, after snorting
derisively. Sasha chuckled for a bit before grabbing the backpack and grabbing
his arm.
“Come on my little loser.” She deadpanned before smiling again and planting a
kiss on his head.
He acquiesced and they walked towards the door hand in hand.
“God I cannot fucking deal with how short I feel next to you.” Connie muttered
as they began the walk to the park, rubbing his hand on his head where she had
kissed it before.
Sasha snorted with laughter. “It’s only like ten centimetres Connie, you’ll
grow and probably fill out at some point and then I can whinge about being made
to feel short.” As she spoke she pulled him into a noogie, never dropping pace.
He laughed and swatted at her until she broke her hold and he could loop and
arm around her waist as they walked.
The sun was just dipping below the horizon as they walked, casting long shadows
and dramatic silhouettes as they found a decent spot on the grass, near a beat-
up playground.
“Aw fuck, we forgot to bring a rug or any shit like that..” Connie realised,
cringing at his rookie mistake.
“Oh who cares, come on I’m hungry.” Sasha retorted grabbing his arm and
dragging him down to sit with her. They ate a sandwich each, and as Sasha began
her second Connie began rolling their first joint of the evening.
And there they sat, hands and legs entwined, watching the sunset illuminate the
sky to a fierce amber; passing a joint back and forth, watching the smoke
wreath between them. By the time the final embers extinguished themselves on
the cardboard roach, Sasha was sitting cross-legged with her arms splayed out
against the grass behind her and Connie’s head in her lap. She sighed gently.
“Thank you for this,” she said, smiling gently and moving one of her hands to
caress his cheek. Connie just smiled up at her and took her hand in his,
kissing her palm as she had done to his earlier. “S’okay. It’s not like I would
rather be with anyone else, y’know, but you.”
Connie’s heart ached, because he wasn’t generally a guy who was big on feelings
or romantic statements, but he didn’t even need to try and search for
flattering words with Sasha; it all tumbled out as honest as it was
embarrassing. He couldn’t help the gentle tenderness that overtook his thumb
and it traced soothing circles into the back of her hand.
Sasha sat up and made a beeline to kiss him, but was distracted by something in
the distance. “Oh ew, PDA much?”
Connie hitched himself upwards and followed where she was looking.
Someone was sat on the swings, ramshackled structure that it was, and were
being thoroughly made out with by the individual kneeling between their legs,
the shallow leverage of the seat enough that they were perfect height for each
other’s mouths.
“Gross.. Who is that?” Connie asked, squirming a little.
Connie was not a prude by any means, but from two hundred metres he could see
how the person on the seat had their legs around the torso of whoever was on
the floor and it was looking more than a little heated. Connie was not going to
have his exquisite romantic picnic with Sasha spoiled by some horny kids who
couldn’t keep it in their pants long enough to get home.
Sasha squinted. “Oh I don’t believe it.”
***** The River *****
Chapter Notes
     A thousand apologies for the ridiculously long wait, the exam season
     has been dark and full of terrors but I am mostly finished now and
     will properly get on with this series :) profuse thanks to everyone
     who reads this fic, 10,000+ views is more than I had ever hoped for
     and all of your comments and kudos are the best motivation ever, plus
     check out this fucking sweet-ass art by Tumblr user bodtsquads http:/
     /hanjis.co.vu/post/74375555563/some-of-the-snk-gang-from-summer-1982
     Tears were almost shed, THE FIC HAS FANART GUYS, WE'VE MADE IT
     After the 3 week hiatus, I hope you enjoy this
See the end of the chapter for more notes
REINER’S POV
After six days in the hospital, Reiner wasn’t sure he knew many things anymore.
He didn’t know whether the sun was up or down, or when the last time he had
slept was. He didn’t know how his friends were getting on, he didn’t know how
his father and his night-shifts were going. It all kind of paled in comparison
though, when he dwelled on the fact that he didn’t know whether Bertolt would
live or die,
It all seemed so surreal; a bizarre dream in which he had to come to terms with
the impossible, that he might never speak to Bertolt again, or watch him
fidget, or admire the way his lanky shoulders opened out and his posture
because less stooped when he laughed.
It weighed on Reiner, sitting with only the constant company of the heart
monitor beeping a steady ostinato, thinking of all the things that could have
been. They had only been together for a matter of days before the accident, but
that handful of days had been some of the best of Reiner’s life. If things went
worst-case scenario, they would never have their first anything beyond kissing.
Right now Reiner would do anything for him and Bertolt to have their first
fight, because an angry Bertolt is a live one, eyes blazing and limbs steady to
an unnatural degree- hands still for once.
Bertolt’s parents came in frequently, for updates and to simply sit with him,
as did Annie. Annie was Reiner’s saving grace half the time, swooping in when
needed to throw a backpack of fresh clothes and a comic book or three at him.
Others had been in too, Connie and Sasha had come by a matter of days ago,
Mikasa, Armin, Eren and Levi had also visited recently, not that Reiner could
put a pin in when exactly.
Reiner half-heartedly checked his watch, time redundant in the fluorescent
miasma of a hospital. The hands lazily indicated it was 3:23am. Reiner sighed
and rubbed his eyes with the heel of a clammy palm. The last time a nurse had
come by was about midnight, checking Bertolt’s IVs and gently telling Reiner
not to expect any miracles.
Rummaging beneath the chair which Reiner had been calling home for the past one
hundred and forty four hours, his hand found one of the care packages Annie had
left for him. Standing and stretching, his bones making satisfying popping
sounds as he did so, Reiner left room 213 and made his way to the locker room
usually reserved for residents and interns on call, but one of the doctors had
taken pity on him and given him a free pass to use their showers.
He shuffled into a cubicle before stripping off his clothes, simple jeans and a
t-shirt with boxers beneath, looping them over the cubicle door as the shower
started hissing as water began to stream out. The water pressure left a lot to
be desired, but Reiner felt unbelievably grotty and any kind of running water
was like the touch of Christ to him right now.
As Reiner relaxed into the lukewarm spray, he felt a jolt of anxiety that would
wrack through him whenever he was away from Bertolt. What if he woke up, and
no-one was there? He would think that there was nobody who cared, and Reiner
would feel like shit. No actually, worse than shit. He couldn’t imagine
anything worse than waking up in an empty hospital room.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, what if Reiner wasn’t there when Bertolt
finally slipped away? What if when Bertolt gave up and let the other side take
him, Reiner wasn’t there and he came back to Bertolt he was stiff and pale and
dead? He stopped his lounging and quickly scrubbed himself with the cheap soap
provided. It was rough and smelled like cheap carnations, but Reiner had
survived infinitely worse and wasted no time in rinsing himself off and
stumbling out to find a towel.
Luckily there was a rack filled with them right opposite to his cubicle, and he
wasted no time drying himself off. Some of the other cubicles were now
occupied, the hiss of water streaming from chrome showerheads howling in
tandem, impossibly loud to Reiner’s fragile senses. He pulled the articles of
clothing Annie had packed for him out of his backpack, sliding on the boxers
then jeans immediately.
Rifling around for whatever shirt his best friend had stowed inside for him, a
gentle humming voice began to emanate from the shower cubicle at the end of the
row. Reiner paid it no mind, as his hand finally snagged the fabric of a shirt.
He said a silent prayer to Annie and her helpfulness in the face of a disaster,
and hoped that she was coping alright. He wanted her to be happy, and didn’t
doubt that Mikasa was taking proper care of her.
As her best friend joint with Bertolt, Annie let on a lot more to him than she
did to almost anyone else, and she had confided in him in her own quiet way
that she did sometimes need a hand to hold and someone to share her weed with,
and that she’d like it to be Mikasa. In Annie’s alien language that only her
and the incredibly emotionally constipated spoke, that was a rough translation
to ‘I think I’d like to date her forever’.
Reiner thought they complimented each other well, both coming across as serious
and stoic, but underneath it all they were intensely caring people, and
passionate about protecting their families- the blood related kind or
otherwise. Tugging on the shirt, it fluttered free from the backpack. It was
forest-green and the fabric felt well worn. Reiner’s throat constricted, and
the anfractuous steam wandering about the room became searingly hot and thick
enough to clog Reiner’s nose and make his eyes sting.
He raised the shirt to his nose and took a cautious breath. It smelt of citrus
and the sea breeze and cheap deodorant. It smelt of Bertolt, or at least how he
had before the hospital had stripped him down to a broken body in a room which
made his skin look impossibly pale and reeked of only disinfectant, with no
hints of oranges or calone lingering.
Reiner’s hands shook a little and his eyes began to sting with gusto, he had
thought himself to be beyond crying by now, all his sobbing and tears poured
into his first night here, clutching Bertolt’s too-cold hands and resting his
head against the hard mattress that Bertolt was splayed across, chest heaving
and words tumbling out with no sense or order, just haphazard phrases like
‘please’ and ‘Bertolt’ and ‘don’t leave me like this’.
He twisted the shirt to look at the decal on the front. Reiner knew it was
there because he had pressed it on himself and given it to Bertolt for his
fifteenth birthday, along with some cake that he and Annie had worked furiously
on to no avail and their first taste of spirits. It was a cheesy little image,
a cartoon turtle smiling, a teasing memento to Reiner’s favourite nickname for
Bertl. He just stared at it now, their naivety so beautiful in retrospect.
As he stood, lost and gazing into the past, the strains of melody from the
cubicle had become words which Reiner half-recognized from his father’s vinyl
collection, albums that he had played for days upon end when Reiner’s mother
had left, too young for him to remember much of her besides the music that had
been played in her absence.
‘..Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse , is a
dream a lie if it don't come true or is it something worse?’
Reiner felt his lower lip tremble treacherously before shaking his head
furiously and pulling the t-shirt on, seizing the clothes he had shucked before
his shower and throwing them into the now vacant backpack. He fled the room as
fast as he could, the lyrics absorbed by the smog of the locker room echoing
around his head in a rush.
'That sends me down to the river, though I know the river is dry, that sends me
down to the river tonight'
The halls feel longer than they did, time warping and bending around his feet,
mocking him in a constant spiral of steps which go nowhere
'Down to the river my baby and I, oh down to the river we ride'
Muted steps rang behind him, a gurney loaded with medical equipment he couldn’t
name. “Excuse me sir, we need this hallway clear!”
A voice sliced the tethers between him and his thoughts, as he stepped aside to
let the gurney pass, watching a nurse jog past in pursuit, barking directions
down a walkie-talkie. “Room 213 yes, we’re going to need a defibrillator there
stat.”
The song began spiralling around his head again
'My baby and I, down to the river we ride'
And Reiner broke into a sprint
Chapter End Notes
     I just realized how junked-up my timeline has become, with all the
     non-sequential chapters. Just to make it a little clearer, the actual
     chronological order of the last few chapters is 25-28-26-27-29, d'you
     think I should rearrange them into chronological order or leave them
     as they are? It is in your hands as the readers y'all
***** Wanted Dead Or Alive *****
Chapter Notes
     Basically this chapter is long and tedious and I fucking hate it, and
     it has literally taken me forever to write; but I was desperate to
     wind up this tendril of storyline so we can get cracking on some
     other ideas I have for this fic.
     Friendly reminder that there is now a playlist for this fic here
     http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Summer+1982/98427061
     and as always, I hope you enjoy!
     Oh and PS for any of your Game of Thrones fans who may be reading,
     I’ve started a new project of AO3, it’s a skateboarding!AU and it’s
     gonna be radical. First chapter is here for your perusing: http://
     archiveofourown.org/works/1887453/chapters/4066845
JEAN’S POV
Waking up amongst unfamiliar sheets was always a jarring sensation for Jean,
the starchy duvet and dappled sunlight his eyes fluttered open to a far cry
from how he usually woke up as the rising sun began to obnoxiously filter
through the slats in his blinds, his body swaddled in his comforter that smelt
of cigarettes and that time Connie had spilt bong water over it; and being a
teenage boy he’d never bothered to wash the damned thing no matter how much he
always swore to Jean he would.
More often than not nowadays the odors of ash and pot were masked by milder
tones of lavender and freckled skin, Marco’s body a welcome substitute for a
shitty comforter that had lived a long life of suffering at his careless hands.
Jean briefly forgot about his tattoo as he stretched, writhing around and
arching his back for a moment before the motion tugged on the skin around his
ribs and he hissed in pain.
Flopping onto a more comfortable position on his side, Jean could smell not
just detergent, but also bacon cooking. Again, he was a teenage boy for
chrissakes, so of course he got up to see when in the direct future he could go
about ingesting his weight in said beautiful meat. Sloping into the kitchen in
a t-shirt and boxers, he could see Christa gently prodding at a pan of bacon
whilst Ymir fiddled around making coffee.
“Ah, he lives!” she called to Jean with relish.
Christa, as always, was kinder. “Good morning Jeanie, did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah I did thanks,” he replied, ducking his head a little. Christa was
practically unreasonable in her angelic qualities, and it made Jean feel like
satan incarnate even if he had done nothing wrong. Besides underage drinking.
And drugs. Oh and all the sodomy.
“Kirstein you would do well to acknowledge me, considering I have a mug of
coffee here with your metaphorical name on it.” Ymir said snidely, and Jean
rolled his eyes before mockingly lavishing her with attention. “Oh Ymir, you
cruel goddess you. I implore you not to unleash a morning of terror upon me.”
Ymir just rolled her eyes in return and slid a mug across the countertop. Jean
took a sip before calculating any of the risks involved, and almost gagged on
the boiling concoction. “Jesus ‘Mir, does this have alcohol in it?” Jean
usually didn’t cower in the face of an Irished-up coffee, but this shit was
strong and had taken him by surprise.
Ymir snorted at him. “Only a splash, You drank a fair amount last night, and
probably for all the last nights stretching back to April. I’m helping you out
here Jean; if you stop drinking all at once, the cumulative hangover might
literally kill you.”
Jean answered her twisted version of ‘helping him out’ by sticking out his
tongue and taking another more cautious sip. It actually wasn’t as acrid as he
had originally thought, and after a few more mouthfuls of the bitter liquid
some of the tension he hadn’t even realised he was carrying in his shoulders
began to dissipate. He watched as Christa lovably trundled around the kitchen
and Ymir cooed over her and helped wherever her lack of ability with anything
culinary couldn’t hold her back.
Jean wondered if he could ever have this with Marco, this easy domesticity
where they would simply just exist in the same space and never get tired of it.
He imagined Marco in his kitchen, puttering about with one of Jean’s t-shirts
on and a mug of coffee in his hand, making toast and absentmindedly reading the
paper. He felt like his heart was in a vice. He had come too far and gained too
much to allow that tantalizing future to be snatched away from him, and in his
mind as he accepted a plateful of bacon and sat at the table he repeated the
simple phrase of ‘not going anywhere’ like a mantra, because he wasn’t.
Now he was past the dramatics of the last two days, it was time for him to
think seriously and logically about how he would stay in Stohess for another
year, so he could at least finish high school in the company of the people he
loved. Jean needed a man with a plan, so after scarfing down his plate of food
he excused himself to use the phone. Ymir had a grubby leather-bound notebook
beside the landline receiver which he flicked through quickly until finding who
he needed.
“Hello, Adam Arlert speaking, who is this please?”
“Um,” Jean faltered for a moment, “Jean. Kirstein. Is Armin there?”
“Ah hello Mr Kirstein, yes Armin’s just upstairs. Just a moment.”
He sat in silence to the soundtrack of awkward shuffling until Armin’s voice
echoed down the line. “Jean?”
“Armin! Hey man, what’s up?”
“Not much, just got back from seeing Erw- Eren. What’s up with you?”
“Ah, er something I need to talk to you about actually?”
Armin’s voice lilted with interested “Yeah? You want to stop by and have a
chat?”
Jean’s veins rushed with relief, thanking the lord above for Armin Arlert and
his creepy perceptive superpowers. “Yes! Uh, sure, when’s good by you?”
“Whenever you can get here,” he replied, a note of mirth worming it’s way into
his tone.
“Okay. Thanks. See you in a bit.”
“Goodbye Jean.” Armin hung up without pretense and Jean put the phone down,
heart buoyant with hope.
He wheedled a lift out of Ymir, absently tapping his hand against the dashboard
to a Skid Row song he didn’t really know as they wended their way out of
downtown.
“So, you’re what, seventeen now?” Ymir asked absently as they passed a myriad
of shitty parking complexes and ugly offices. Jean nodded. “Yeah, eighteen in
November though.” She hummed thoughtfully.
“I’ve been thinking I might buy the joint where I work from the owner,
considering he’s an old fart and plans to retire and abscond to Europe in three
months time.”
Jean remembered that Ymir worked as a tattoo artist in a semi-sleazy place down
town, it looked like shit from outside, but inside there was a nice atmosphere
of mean-looking people smiling and no-one giving a shit how old you were.
“Aww no way, Zackley’s leaving? That guy gave me my first ear piercing after I
lost a bet with Connie in eighth grade..” Jean reminisced, he was a gruff old
man but passionate about what he did and he had loved that shop like it was his
own baby.
Ymir laughed at the memory, “oh yeah, that was the year before you dweebs
started high school in Trost..”
Jean absently remembered his first year as an awkward freshman, wandering
around alone; Sasha and Connie still trapped in the purgatory of middle school.
He had spent most of his time in the art department then, dicking around with
pastels and discovering the glories of Pink Floyd. He had met Ymir after she
complimented a particularly angsty-looking charcoal piece of his, before
plonking herself down next to him and telling him about this band called Sex
Pistols. Over that year the molasses of their group of friends had began to
wreathe together, Reiner and Annie were already in his year and firm friends
having gone to middle school together. He and Reiner had bonded over field
hockey and their mutual love of Pac-Man sometime in the spring term, and once
Summer rolled around they spent at least one day a week together in the park
practicing their passes. The next year almost everyone else in their town
started their freshman year and the rest was history.
 
“...but anyway, you’ve been unofficially stabbing holes in our friends for
years and I was thinking that maybe you’d like a senior-year job training to be
our new piercing artist?”
Jean grinned so hard he felt like his some kind of tendon in his face might
snap. “Oh fuck yeah, Ymir that would be awesome!” Not only would he be able to
work for one of his friends, but his mind flashed forward to possibilities of
him getting his own place to stay on his probably meagre salary, being able to
live in Stohess independently from his domineering parents.
Ymir grinned back at him. “Yeah I know right? Like I figure you’ve already done
Armin and Sasha’s ears about a million times, Annie’s nose, your own damn mouth
twice, and with no fuck-ups so far so you seem like my safest bet for a new
employee.”
“Thank you so so much Ymir.” Jean practically gushed as they pulled up outside
the Arlert household. “I’ll see you in a bit, thanks again for letting me crash
over.”
Ymir made a ‘think nothing of it’ gesture with her hand. “No worries Jeanie-
boo, I’ll let you know when that job’s available. Look after yourself, pal.”
She sped off without another word, or even letting Jean shut the passenger door
correctly, but then again he had seen her do a lot of dumb shit in the past and
she’d never suffered for it yet.
The path up to Armin’s house was lovingly tended, dainty white flowers adorning
flowerbeds which bordered onto the quaint cobbled path. Jean trudged along to
the front door, feeling exceptionally lumbering and ugly amongst all the
delicate beauty surrounding him. He knocked once, feeling uncharacteristically
shy, it was fairly presumptuous after all, for him to wander to Armin’s front
door in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday and beg him to help put his
life back together.
Armin opened the door, only a moment or two after Jean’s uncourtly knocking. He
was wearing an oversized cable-knit which Jean didn’t recognise which made his
figure look even more slender and feminine than usual, his hair was pulled
backwards into a slightly messy bun which accentuated his fragile, porcelain
features and uncannily large periwinkle blue eyes. He was wearing jeans which
appeared more like tights in their durability and his ears were still pierced
in both lobes after Jean had coerced him into being his latest test subject a
month ago.
“Heya Jean. Come on in.” Armin nudged the door open properly and retreated
indoors, leaving Jean with no choice but to follow him.
“Hi Armin.” He began, wending his way through the old house, cluttered with
leather-bound tomes of books and bric-a-brac which would probably fetch
thousands in the right auction house. “So, um I need your help,” he continued
as they waded up the stairs, to a room which appeared to in fact be a renovated
cupboard from the exterior.
Armin threw himself down on an office chair and gestured for Jean to sit on the
bed which Jean assumed belonged to Armin. The room itself reeked of his
personal touch, like the rest of the house there were books littering
everywhere he cast his eyes, but there was also a Depeche Mode poster pasted
across one of the walls and some discarded eyeliner pencils rattling around
underfoot.
“So, what’s the matter dude?” Armin asked, tilting his head inquisitively.
“Well, it’s kind of a long story but.. My parents want to move away. Up North,
to Nedlay for their work.” Armin’s eyes widened.
“You’re moving away? Oh shit that’s huge..” He breathed.
“Not if I, and by extension then you can help it.” Jean said insistently. “I’m
not moving. If I can find any possible way for me to stay in Stohess, I’m
taking it.”
Armin nodded slowly. “Okay, so what you need is.. A plan?”
Jean bobbed his head violently. “Yeah, a plan.”
An half an hour later, Jean’s head ached from all of the questions Armin had
thrown at him vis-a-vis about a million fiscal terms that he didn’t understand
before deeming him to be unable to afford his own place. Once Armin realised he
was fighting a losing battle, he turned fire elsewhere. “Well if you can’t live
alone, what if you moved in with one of us guys? Like obviously we don’t have
much space here, but the Jaeger’s-”
“No, no, noooooooo.” Jean cut him off before he could stumble any further into
that abyss. “Me and Eren can just about spend an evening together now, if we
had to try and live together I guarantee there would be bloodshed by dawn.”
Armin sighed, “point taken.. How about if you shacked up with Connie? From what
he’s told me his brother’s mostly stuck in Trost half the time at work or with
his girlfriend so there’s essentially a free room up for grabs there.”
Jean gasped. “Of course. Connie. That would literally be perfect, thank you
Armin thank you so much, you are the best. You are amigo numero uno Armin
Arlert.”
Armin giggled at the praise, “well, or I guess the obvious choice would be
Marco? Seeing as you too are practically married now.”
Jean suddenly felt very hot then very cold, and his voice cracked just enough
that he knew Armin would notice when he spoke. “I.. Haven’t had a chance to
tell him yet.”
Armin’s lips pursed in a way that reminded Jean chillingly of his mother. “Oh,
Jean.” He murmured softly, “you have to tell him, sooner rather than later.
Don’t say after all of those grand gestures you’re having second thoughts about
him.”
Jean’s innards turned to frost then fire again. “No no no, I’m not Armin, I
know it’s weird and it’s hard to explain,” he babbled. “but Marco.. Marco’s
like starlight, man. He’s like starlight and sunrise and songs played with a
capo on the fourth fret, and it’s so hard to articulate, but I love him like I
love the sun and the sea and the smell of ink and-”
He could feel a tear beginning to wend it’s way from his eye down to the
stubble which lightly dusted his cheeks after three days of absence from
anywhere with a razor which didn’t have a chance of being used by Ymir. Armin
hugged him, muttering comforting nothings which made his throat seal up
somewhere just above his voice box and the waterworks begin for real.
Armin being a god-like deity of patience and kindness let him cry on his
cardigan for a little while, before Jean pulled himself together. “Jean, it’s
obvious you care about him so much. So what you’re going to do is go home,
shower, shave for Christ’s sake and then call Marco and tell him everything.
This is too important and too endangering to your future to bottle up for the
next month and a half. Then you’ve got to ring Connie, and see if you can
convince him to be your roommate for a while until that job with Ymir you
mentioned can get settled. Okay?”
Jean wiped his nose in what he hoped was a somewhat dignified way, when the
fuck did I start crying all the fucking time? He wondered as Armin guided him
out the door and waved him down the path to the street.
The walk home was an uninteresting blur of suburbia, Jean had way too much
going on in his head for anything around him to be of distraction. His parents
pretentious-ass Toyota wasn’t in the drive so he risked sliding his key in the
door and shuffling in the hall. There was a note on the table in his mother’s
excessively cursive handwriting, giving vague specifics about how his parents
would be home on the coming Wednesday, giving him roughly five days to figure
out the next year of his life and make it abundantly clear that he would rather
shit in his hands and clap then move up north.
He wandered upstairs and flicked the radio onto the local station which played
the least country music he could find with only moments to spare before the hot
water kicked in and he started feeling uncomfortable about being naked around
his house. (Drunk streaking was one thing to him, casual nudity was another can
of worms entirely.)
Jean took a long shower, soaking up the scalding water until it began to putter
into lukewarm territories. Then he finally shaved the bristles that had began
to frame his angular jaw. The finishing touch was applying a little more herbal
goop to his tattoo, which he thought was scabbing nicely- no blood or pus was a
good sign and he hoped to keep it that way.
Draping himself in a towel Jean sauntered back to his room, where Bon Jovi was
emanating illustriously from the radio. Generally Jean found Bon Jovi a little
too garish for his high-profile (Or as Eren called them, pretentious) tastes,
but right now ‘Wanted Dead Or Alive’ was exactly what he needed, tugging matte
leather up his thighs Jean couldn’t help but sing along just a little as the
bridge kicked in.
“.. And I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back.”
He pulled his pants up fulling with a flourish, the little bit of singing
become a lot as he howled out the words alongside Jon Bon Jovi shamelessly
“I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back..”
Jean buttoned his flies and began to scrabble around on the floor for an
appropriate t-shirt without missing a beat
“..I been everywhere, and I'm standing tall,”
His voice was muffled a little by the act of pulling on his shirt, he had
bought it at the beginning of the summer and never really worn it since, but it
was, in his opinion, pretty fuckin’ cute. Y’know, in a tough hardcore kind of
way.
"I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all, yeah!”
By this point Jean was sure he had been through so much emotionally gruelling
shit recently that he was now simply a man without shame. At this rate he would
be walking around the house starkers, belting out George Micheal and giving
zero shits about it by November.
Now that he was washed and clothed, he got on with shaving around his jaw,
Armin was right, it did make him look pretty homeless, and Jean quietly begged
his hormones to get on with their balancing as he dragged a razor across his
face until it was smooth again.
Next was the arduous journey downstairs to fix himself something to eat. Three
pop tarts later and Jean was feeling himself again, then began the long process
of staring at the phone and figuring out his next move. He knew immediately
that it was way too shitty to just call Marco and tell him what had happened to
him the last few days, why he had been off the grid and not called him before
he went to sleep like he usually did.
Jean decided that first what he really needed was a nap, and once he was calm
and refreshed he would make infinitely better decisions. He woke up with a
start and drool over his chin, which he wiped away with disgust. Glancing
around Jean’s room, he felt a little wigged-out, considering it was suddenly
dark outside and that perhaps his nap had become a full-on coma for a few
hours. Jean couldn’t help but suppose that crying really was exhausting, and
resolved to stop doing so fucking much of it- his sleep pattern was horrific
enough as it was and besides that he felt like Eren in the fourth grade doing
all this bawling.
He decided to put on his record player and smoke his last few cigarettes out of
the window of his bedroom, not that it was going to be his room for long thanks
to his Judas-snakes of parents. By the time he had inhaled the last drags of
his final Mayfair, Jean could spy the horizon beginning to glow like a furnace
of hot coals; embers dancing and eddying as the sun rose.
Jean watched until the sky was a pale shade of lilac streaked with cerulean and
the slightest hue of amber before wandering downstairs to switch on the morning
cartoons and prepare himself something to shove down his oesophagus and label
‘breakfast’. After twenty minutes of watching Alvin And The Chipmunks, Jean
felt so nauseous that he had to retreat upstairs to change into something that
wasn’t disgracefully rumpled from an impromptu coma, still clutching his toast.
He decided the leather trousers were kick-ass enough to stay, but changed into
a lavender tie-dye shirt that he would pretend he didn’t remember was left
there a week ago by Marco, but totally did. Jean checked his watch, then added
the twenty minutes onto that time that he’d need to take to psych himself up
for this. Ten past eleven didn’t seem an unreasonable hour to Jean, so he spent
his mandatory third of an hour inventing speeches in his head to reply to
things that would never be asked of him and breathing just a smidge too
quickly.
Jean was an honest man though, and at 11:10, he dialled Marco’s number and
shifted around awkwardly as it rang. And rang. And tediously continued to ring.
Eventually there was an answer. “Hello? This is Carol Bodt, who is calling?”
Jean’s throat dried out for a moment, but he forced the raspy tone out anyways.
“Hi. This is Jean? I’m a friend of Marco’s.”
“Ah, hello Jean. I’ve heard plenty about you.” Despite Jean sounding like a
serial killer who existed on a diet of sandpaper, Mrs Bodt’s voice sounded warm
and kindly.
“I’ll just get Marco for you now.”
It was Jean’s second awkward phone conversation of the past two days day so
therefore he was done being an uncomfortable little shit and began to absently
whistle as the phone was passed between Marco and his mother.
“Hello? Jean?” Marco’s voice was like a warm hug through electrical wires and
soundwaves, (or at least probably, Jean thought Physics AP was a load of crap
so he scarcely ever paid attention.)
“Hi Marc. Sorry I’ve been kind of uh-”
“Off the grid?” Marco supplied, sounding more amused than pissed off to Jean’s
relief.
“Yeah, that..” Jean finished lamely.
Marco laughed and even with the crackle that followed it through the receiver
Jean thought it was the best thing he had ever heard.
“So, are you busy?” Jean asked, trying to redeem some of his dorkiness.
“I’m spending the afternoon with family, I can come over at like six though?”
“Uh sure, actually can I meet you in the park?“ Jean cringed at the idea of his
parents returning home early and finding him home, especially with Marco.
“Sounds perfect. Jean. are you okay?”
“Yeah! I’m fine, great actually! And now I have to go, bye!”
Jean slammed the phone down in a panic and hung his head. He was legitimately
King of the Fucking Dorky-Ass Idiots and Prince Of Being Terrible Under
Pressure.
Whiling away the hours was tedious, and the walk was long and nerve-wracking.
Jean was confident that Marco knew something was up, just because he always
knew; Jean wondered idly if Marco earned another freckle whenever he did
something scarily empathetic. It was a beautiful tableau, sunset streaked
against the silhouette of the swings. Jean hoped it wouldn’t become a cursed
tradition; they go to the swings together, one horrifically misunderstands a
situation, hearts are broken. It sounded almost as bad as thanksgiving in his
house.
He could see Marco sitting on the swings as he crossed the field, Marco was
wearing a plaid shirt as usual that made him look like an idiot but also like
he was perfect enough to not need fashion sense. Jean couldn’t see his face
from this angle, but he could see him sway slightly as his sneakers scuffed
against the tarmac.
Jean cupped his hands around his mouth and called to him. “Marco! Hey Marco!”
Marco didn’t react, besides a slight tension gathering around his shoulders.
Jean frowned and began to jog over, ignoring the dick-chafing tightness of his
trousers.
“Marco?” He called again, now only a hundred metres from where he was sat.
He approached and cut his speed, so his first footsteps onto the tarmac were
some kind of ungainly stagger. “Marco?” He asked again, this time his voice
almost silent. He had been sure it was him, and it would be so fucking
embarrassing if he had just shouted and ran at some random local kid who didn’t
even know him.
“Hi Jean.” It was Marco’s voice, although quiet and a little shaky.
Jean paced around the swings to talk to Marco properly, and felt his legs
almost crumple underneath him. Marco’s left eye was sealed shut with an ugly
lump of a bruise, the skin purple and swollen up until his eyebrow and down to
his cheekbone.
“Marc, what-?” Jean’s words began to trip and tumble out of his mouth before he
could stop them, but Marco silenced him with a strangled sob and shook his head
firmly.
Jean’s legs actually did collapse then, and he shuffled over to kneel between
Marco’s legs. From that angle he could gently tip Marco’s chin upwards and kiss
him chastely on the mouth with as much poise as he could when he felt like
nuclear fission was happening inside his chest cavity. “It’s okay babe.” Jean
murmured, trying to caress the skin on Marco’s face without hurting him
further. Marco properly met his eyes then, and Jean saw more than he usually
could hanging in the balance of the two brown orbs. He could see hurt and fear,
anger too, and a ferocious light that Jean rarely saw within Marco.
Without thinking Jean whispered, “I love you.”
It was like flicking a switch, the fear and the hurt melted away into a wash of
something else that made Jean sure that Marco’s soul was a sweet squishy thing
that should never be tainted by the evils of the world. Marco kissed him, only
softly to start with, but then Jean dragged their bodies together like any part
of him that wasn’t touching Marco was going to spontaneously drop off. Marco
mirrored his desperation, wrapping his legs around Jean’s hips and pulling
their chests flush.
Jean could feel the rest of the world fading around him. When kissing was this
good, everything else kind of ceased to matter, especially when it came to
Marco. Jean counted as they began to wane in his mind; his parents, Nedlay,
Connie’s apartment and a bottle of pills still lingering under his bed. He said
farewell to each of them as Marco tangled his fingers in his hair.
Until a girl’s voice pierced the miasma with such velocity Marco almost fell
off his swing backwards.
“HOLY SHIT YOU TWO, IT’S TRADITIONAL TO COPULATE SOMEWHERE WHERE CHILDREN MIGHT
NOT have to see it.”
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