Chapter Text
I slump gratefully into a free chair, wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. My head is spinning from the buzz of alcohol, the flashing of strobe lights and the techno beats of drums vibrating in my chest, all leaving me a little bit disoriented.
Jean sinks into the chair next to me, struggling to catch his breath. He looks a bit disheveled in the faint red and blue light, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his tie hanging low on his throat. He's smiling though and reaches for my hand mind-absently on my lap, intertwining my fingers with his. It's the hand with the ring on, I notice with a smile, squeezing it as I return my gaze on the dancing guests.
"I can't keep up with Reiner, he's on fire" I exhale, panting and pointing at the mad man spinning on himself in front of us.
"Nobody can, this guy is probably high on caffeine among other stuff I don't want to think about" Jean scoffs back, reaching for a glass of water.
The man in question is hollering very excited 'woo-hoo's every thirty seconds, startling some of the guests who move to stand a bit further and away from the potential mess he's on the brink of committing.
Jean's mother Catherine, who is talking with Jean's grandparents casts worried glances between the staggering man and the cake placed on the table behind. I bite my lip, repressing a chuckle at her expression. The poor woman must be asking herself what kind of friends her son and son-in-law surround themselves with.
Reiner stops in the midst of a twist when a familiar bassline and gentle tambourine beat purr through the speakers, replacing the electronic synthetizer. His head snaps towards the source of the sound, his hands gesturing widly at Bertholdt to shut up although the guy isn't even talking nor standing anywhere close to him. When he finally turns to face us, he looks ecstatic.
"Baaaabe, it's our song!" the brawny man-child shouts over to Bert who is sitting at their table, muttering pained words I can't hear.
Jean takes his phone out from his pocket right as Reiner spreads his arms around him, crying "I can't liiiiiiiiive" to the skies and starts filming.
"For posterity's sake" he explains, barely able to quiet down his laughter and not jerk his phone away.
Bertholdt remains glued to his chair in shock, squeaking an inaudible string of curse as he watches the wreckage happening without being able to tear his eyes away from it. I had never seen someone looking so eager to be struck by lightning before.
Jean tucks his phone back in his pants with a shit-eating grin, irradiating sheer and utter bliss.
"This is the best day of my life" he declares, nodding approvingly at one of Reiner's moves.
"Because Reiner is completely wasted, dancing half naked and singing to U2 or because you married me?" I joke.
Jean's wicked grin widens, revealing glimpses of white teeth.
"At the moment it's hard to tell. 50/50, maybe?" he teases, leaning into my shoulder to plant a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I stare down at him, doing my best to look unimpressed.
"Oh really? Damn, if I'd known I would have spared wearing a suit by this heat then" I retort sarcastically.
"Wait, let me think for a second" he cuts me off with a finger, humming quietly as he mulls over the question.
"Mainly because I married you. 80% I'd say" he conceives, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
I raise my eyebrows at that.
"Since when are you the one specialised in figures?" I ask him, biting my lip to prevent myself from cracking up. He looks like he's waiting for me to let it out and I won't grant him the pleasure of doing so.
That's what he gets for playing the jerk.
"I may suck at Math sir, but I do know my basics. Conversely, there are plenty of other things I'm great at sucking from what I've heard" he points out, sipping innocently at his glass.
I cough and choke on the water I've been drinking as it goes down the wrong pipe, feeling a blush creeping up my neck and settling on my cheeks. Jesus Christ.
Jean snickers and clasps me on the back a few times, looking very pleased with himself. Right as I'm about to retort him a witty remark, he bridges the gap between us and drowns my riposte with a kiss, his teeth grazing the skin of my lower lip.
I pretty much forget my own name for a second and I curse myself for letting him win. I can't help but surrender when his tongue chafes against mine in a playful lick, and I hardly swallow back the moan forming in my throat. Fuck.
"Actually" he nods to himself thoughtfully after breaking the kiss,"this is 100% because I married you" he affirms, one of his rare saccharine smiles blooming on his lips.
They are pink and swollen from the kiss and the light stubble of his jaw is starting to prickle under my fingers. He usually sports the beard look but he knows I like it better when he's clean-shaven. The attention brings a smile to my lips.
Even after five years spent learning every quirk and twist of his every expressions, there is always something new that makes me fall in love with him all over again; it being as simple as the change of light against a patch of his skin or the way his voice sounds huskier yet softer when he's tired.
It's the little things, the ones that build him and make him perfectly unperfect in every way. How could I ever get bored of this? Of him? He surprises me all the time.
"Get a room, you two!" Connie shouts, bursting our bubble and throwing a crumpled napkin at us. I grin as I leave a final peck on Jean's lips, Jean parting reluctantly with a frustrated grumble.
"Fuck off Springer, it's my wedding day!" he huffs loudly, throwing the small ball back at Connie but missing him by a good three feet. I smirk at Jean's fuming face, Connie's sniggers only aggravating the redness in his ears.
We all cringe at one of Reiner's loud shriek, the drunk man calling for Bert to join him on the dance floor with an annoying high-pitched cry that rises above the music.
The bulky blonde is moving his hips along the beat, pointing at and mouthing the lyrics to his flustered boyfriend who is growing alarmingly red by the second. Reiner seems to have forgotten he's not the only one in the room though, as he runs into Hange and Moblit who are talking with Armin about the progress of his PhD.
The shorter blonde tries to catch Reiner before he stumbles upon them but unfortunately for him, the mass of muscles in his arms trips over his shoes and knocks Hange's glass from their hand, spilling its content all over their shirt in a splash of red wine.
I'm certain Jean regrets putting back his phone so soon.
Reiner tries to wipe off the worst of the growing stain with his sleeve, stuttering a series of heartfelt apologies but Hange waves him off casually and assures him the shirt was an old one anyways. In his defence, Reiner does look apologetic. On the other hand, Bert looks like he's on the verge of fainting.
Jean and I exchange a quick glance and burst out of laughing simultaneously, our combined laughter only increasing when we spot Catherine visibly sigh of relief that the pièce montée hasn't suffered from Reiner's boundless enthusiasm.
This night really can't get any better.
The music then switches for the soothing sound of an acoustic guitar, the dance floor clearing of any remaining single dancers to leave room for the couples. Jean shuffles on his chair so that he can face me, wiping off tears of mirth from his eyes.
"You want to go back?" he asks me, indicating the direction of the dance floor with his thumb where Bert is profusely apologizing to Hange on behalf of his boyfriend. I shake my head with a smile, pointing at the table opposite to ours.
"Looks like this one isn't for us. Look over there" I tell him.
Stopping in the middle of his conversation with Mikasa, Eren exclaims excitedly when he recognizes the first notes of the song and grasps hurriedly Armin's hand, dragging him amid the dancing couples.
The only ones left are swinging to the rhythm of gentle guitar and violin; Ymir and Krista are barely moving anymore, too busy melting into a kiss that doesn't seem to end. Coach Levi and Erwin, my Biology tutor in college are waltzing elegantly a bit further, fitting perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle.
My eyes land on Sasha and Connie who are swinging aimlessly on the spot, talking quietly to each other, both looking eerily serious. Sasha is worrying her lip between her teeth as Connie murmurs something in her ear but I can't figure out what they're saying.
Just as I am about to ask Jean what he thinks is going on, I notice he has discretely disappeared from his chair. I crane my neck to see where he has gone to but I can't seem to find him amidst the flash of neon lights and silhouettes blocking my vision.
Frowning slightly, I return my attention back to the dancefloor just as Armin and Eren's laughter reach me, the couple grinning and moving effortlessly across the room. Eren tries to dip Armin for a cinema kiss at one point, everyone around them cackling when he almost drops him.
A few golden strands fall from Armin's messy bun and around his face as he giggles gleefully, Eren smiling down at him. I feel my heart swell in my chest at the sight.
They both look so happy and carefree even if only for a moment that I forget about the nights spent listening to Armin's ragged breath at the other end of the phone, after he's had another nightmare in which Eren didn't make it out alive.
For one blissful moment, the black shadows marking their features vanish, their youth shining through the dark clouds hovering above their heads and they finally look like they're 26 again.
I only sense the presence sneaking up my back when darkness swallows up the world and I feel rough fabric being tied up at the back of my head.
"What the-" I stutter, reaching for the thick cloth covering my eyes but someone swats my hand away before I can remove it.
"Keep the blindfold on" Krista's crystal voice instructs (when the hell did she leave the dance floor?) as she ties the blindfold tighter and checks that I can't see anything. "Jean's got a surprise for you", she clarifies, her voice close to my ear while the music dies around us.
Involutary goosebumps run along my arms at her words, her warm breath tingling the skin on my neck. I find myself fidgetting nervously, stomach churning with anticipation and excitement as she grips my arm and helps me get up from my chair.
A surprise? I wonder, quirking a questioning eyebrow at no one in particular. Being left in the dark is an unsettling feeling I'm not very fond of but I guess I can make an exception for tonight.
Now that the music has stopped, I make out the curious voices of guests gathering on the dance floor and behind me. I hear one loud thud coming from my right, more raspy sounds and even grunting -God, what is happening here- followed by muffled groans that I vaguely recognize as Reiner and Connie's. I fight the urge to peep from under the cloth; Jean would probably kill me if I did. I mean, he wouldn't do something so radical but he would surely not be happy if I spoiled his surprise.
Krista gently rests a hand on my shoulder and guides me to a chair further in the room, retreating just as quickly as she came but depositing a light peck on my cheek before she leaves.
The distinct sound of a tuning bass guitar snaps my attention back ahead but before I can dwell on it, the shrill sound of a mic coming too close to a speaker makes me wince and grit my teeth. Ymir's voice then booms through the speakers, closer to me than I'd expected and making me jump:
"Is everybody there?" she asks, panting like she has ran a mile or carried something very heavy.
"Alright; Hello to all again! As you can see, Jean has wanted to surprise Marco in celebration of their union by doing something special. So here we are!"
It would be lovely to see what the heck this surprise is about, though, I muse impatiently.
"I hope you like your present, Freckles" she addresses to me, sounding like she would punch me in the face if I dared to be anything but thrilled in return. Now that wouldn't be really surprising. I chuckle lightly at the thought, still unable to see anything but pitch black darkness, not a single light piercing through the blindfold.
I'm literally wriggling on my chair by now, the curiosity and impatience cursing in my nervous system and making it hard not to give in and rip the cloth on my eyes away. Ymir must have heard my prayers though as she speaks again, the smile evident in her voice:
"You can take out the blindfold, Marco!"
In one swift motion, I tear the blindfold away and blink a few times, my eyes laboriously adjusting to the stark contrast of blinding lights compared to the darkness I was plunged in for a few minutes. After a little while, my gaze focuses and directs on the plateform in front of me. I can only gape stupidly at the view.
Ymir, Connie, Luke and Jean are standing on a plateform placed against the farthest wall of the dance floor, all occupying a stage that could as well have fallen from the sky. Ah, that explains the grunts I heard.
Connie and Luke are positioned on each side of the stage, electric bass guitars passed over their shoulders and huge smiles plastered on their faces. Ymir's impressive stance is ranked to the down-stage where she leads the band. She finishes plugging her guitar on a loudspeaker and smiles her trademark arrogant smirk when she takes in my expression. Behind her, a set of drums is installed up-stage where I spot Jean, grinning back at me in an almost bashful way.
A huge grin cracks up on my face when I meet his eyes, shaking my head in disbelief. I'm unable to utter a word from the shock but my emotion must be showing on my face as his smile stretches even wider.
The beginning of a rapid solo guitar tune booms from the speakers and right to my core as Ymir hits the cords of her red electric Gibson, goosebumps travelling down my arms and my spine right to the tip of my toes. The smile growing on my face threatens to split it in two.
He remembered.
This is definitely not what I had in mind.
This is ten times better than what I could have ever imagined.
Oh, and thrilled I definitely am.
Ymir's hands move nimbly on the cords like she makes one with the strings, notes coming to life effortlessly under her digits as Connie, Luke and quickly Jean join her in the song. I sense myself mouth the lyrics along out of my own accord, feeling too elated to even care if people hear or see me. They're too busy watching the stage anyways.
"Hello," Ymir's voice hums, stretching out the word with this deep voice of hers,
"I've waited here for you, everlong"
Her singing voice is so different from her usual drawling tone that it takes me aback for a second, the sharp edges around her words souding clearer and smoother than ever.
I haven't had the chance to hear her sing much in the past, only attending two or three dates during Uni from lack of time. I wonder why it surprises me, though. Listening to her now, it appears somewhat obvious to me that she could only be good at it; the way her voice flows like clearwater and ripples down the room with ease.
For as long as I've known her, she's always had the artistic fibre and the talent ingrained within her.
I drum my hands on my thighs in sync with Jean who meets my gaze over the stage and we both laugh, my heart beating so fast and the tightness in my stomach loosening so rapidly I must be floating.
I smile until my cheeks hurt and there are bubbles of laughter bursting in my chest. The moment is so corny yet so incredibly moving because once again, I marvel at his ability to show me how much he cares in the simplest of ways. Jean not only reunited his own goddamn band to play my favourite song of all time at our wedding, no. He's showing me the little details are the ones that matter the most. The things people usually brush off as unnecessary data; they're the ones that count for him, for us. They're important.
The rollercoaster in my chest reaches a peak as Ymir begins chanting the chorus; Jean's amber eyes meet hazel once again, our lips both mouthing the lyrics in perfect sync and for one second, one second that feels like an eternity, it's just the two of us standing at the edge of the world.
The lyrics fit so perfectly in the moment, it makes my heart race against my ribcage and losing myself in his eyes, I can almost feel it glow.
"And I wonder, when I sing along with you,
If everything could ever feel this real forever,
If anything could ever be this good again,
The only thing I'll ever ask of you,
You gotta promise not to stop when I say when...she sang!"
I close my eyes and taste the pulse of drums and guitar strings on my tongue, I feel the pull and release of blood pumping in my veins harmonize with the melody. I relish into the sounds, the colours even the smells, capturing this moment as accurately as I can without omitting one single detail.
This is what it is about, I think, this is moments like these that makes it all worth it.
Living.
The end of the song comes far too quickly for my own liking.
I open my eyes slowly, the last few strings of electric guitar and rolls of cymbals echoing in the air before the room bursts into deafening applause and shameless whistles. My knees buckle as I stand but they don't give out when I walk, my gaze falling on the faces of my friend, my brother, my cousin successively and the love of my life, my husband at last.
He's looking right back at me, not bothering to hide the gigantic smile on his face as he jumps down the stage to meet me halfway.
"You liked it?" he asks me eagerly, his eyes twinkling with pride when he stops in front of me and I freaking melt on the spot.
He's waiting for me to reply, his smile faltering a little when no words come out of my mouth but I just can't speak.
Still not trusting my voice, I nod a few times to let him know that I did and wrap my arms around his shoulders, finding my place in the crook of his neck. His chuckles reverberate through my arms and chest as he hugs me back, nuzzling his chin on my shoulder like he usually does.
"I love you" he whispers in my ear, the guests keeping clapping and cheering around us. The comforting scent of honey wax mixed with sweat and something indeniably him slows down the wild beating of my heart, matching with Jean's steady rate pulsing against my lips where my mouth meets his carotid.
I nestle further into him and whisper back, almost inaudibly:
"I love you, too"
At this exact moment, I'm not sure these three little words are just enough, though.
**
We follow the few guests heading towards the quiet of their rooms, feeling tired but happy and Jean all but dragging me by the hand as I crawl more than I walk. The late hours of the night start to weigh heavy on my shoulders. My eyelids are dropping and my feet are sore from being trapped in Italian shoes for too long.
I yearn for the blissful hours ahead of me sleeping in Jean's arms, curled up in the warm bed waiting for us when we are suddenly stopped by a shy greeting coming from the speakers.
Everybody, including Jean and I, throw a quizzical glance at the plateform where Sasha stands, biting her lip and waving a timid hand at us.
"Hi to all, I know you all really want to go to sleep now but we have one last surprise for the grooms" she apologizes as she takes a quick glance at the thin watch around her wrist.
"Jeez, it's already 3 A.M" she exclaims, "Okay, I'll make this quick, promise!"
She waves hurriedly at someone down-stage to join her on the plateform. The tired faces around us turn back curiously to the stage, Jean looking as clueless as I do next to me. It's not something he has been informed of, then.
I frown deeply, Jean squeezing my hand in his but I only shake my head in return when he stares at me in confusion. I don't know what's going on either.
Connie climbs the few stairs to the stage in few quick strides and stops next to Sasha, craddling a small box in his hands. She tightens her grip anxiously around the mic and smoothes imaginary creases on her dress with her free hand before bringing the pic to her lips once more.
"Jean, Marco, if you would please join us on stage. I promise it won't last long" Sasha demands, her voice sounding hesistant as she bites her lip once more. Seeing Sasha self-conscious is discerning; her usually so unapologetic looks now slightly uncomfortable under our combined stare. She keeps shuffling her feet, waiting for us to move.
Exchanging another puzzled look, Jean and I walk together towards the stairs and slowly climb our way to the center of the stage where Sasha and Connie are waiting. I see excitement sparkle in Connie's eyes as he hands the square box in his hands to Jean.
"We didn't know if it was the right time to do this" Connie explains, rubbing nervously the back of his neck where his compass tattoo indicates north. We study him for a bit longer but before either of us can ask any question, he speaks again:
"Open it" he commands, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as he watches us expectantly, a grin stretching on his face. I chuckle at his impatience, directing my attention back to Jean and the box. The familiar scowl on his features has returned, his brows knitted in confusion as he stares at the package without opening it.
"It doesn't bite, does it?" he asks suspiciously.
The question must be some kind of obscure inside joke between the two of them because Connie and Sasha both start laughing, their eyes glinting with amusement.
"Not yet, no" Sasha replies mysteriously.
Jean's cautious gaze flickers between his sister and his best friend for a moment before he starts undoing the ribbon at the top. My eyes briefly dart over to Sasha who starts fidgetting even more with the loose thread of her bracelets.
The box seems weightless in Jean's hand and as far as we know it could be very well empty. His eyes meet mine for a second before I hurry him to remove the lid, my hands twitching with anticipation.
I don't understand what I'm looking at, at first. There is a black and white framed picture of a shapeless form; it reminds me of the cards used in therapy for patients to use and guess what they think they're seeing. It looks vaguely like a bean, I muse, cocking my head to the side.
I raise my head to ask them what I am supposed to look at but before I can open my mouth, my eyes trail over Jean's face and I'm stopped dead on my tracks.
He looks positively stunned.
Frustration building up within me, I return my gaze on the picture and notice a scribbled handwriting under the picture I haven't seen before.
I don't process the words for one endless second, my mind not registering the meaning of the second word as if it has never encountered it before.
Bewildered, I stare at Jean who still hasn't said a word, hasn't moved nor breathed, his fingertips hovering over the picture incredulously.
Is it-
I see Jean at the corner of my eye briskly lift his head. There is a beat of silence before he dares to speak again, the frame in his hand trembling slightly. I can't tear my eyes away from the words though; I repeat them over and over in my head until they don't make sense anymore, as if my mind refuses obstinately to grasp their meaning.
It is-
The words kick in finally, but I can't even breathe as the air is being sucked out from my lungs. My vision blurs.
"Hello Uncle", Jean rolls the words tentatively on his tongue like they feel alien in his mouth. My eyes snap to Sasha and Connie's faces, the overwhelming rush of emotions slapping me back to reality.
In the following silence, the world could have been holding his breath for how still the atmosphere is.
Sasha allows the wet laugh bubbling in her throat to rush past her lips and answers the question burning mine:
"I'm due at the end of December" she announces shyly, Connie's hand coming to wrap itself protectively around her belly.
"You're going to be uncles."
There's a pause where I don't hear anything but the rush of blood in my head, white noise buzzing in my ears as the words carve themselves with matter-of-factly finality.
Because it is a fact.
You're going to be uncles.
I launch myself at their neck with a gasp, babbling incoherent words that I meant to be thanks but the blow threatens to floor me and how fucking sweet this blast is.
Uncles, I freak out, We're going to be Uncles.
They squeeze me tight in their arms, their laughter and my tears mingling with the surprised gasps and congratulations thrown at the couple by the remaining guests. I let go of them and turn around to take Jean in my arms but I stop myself from reaching out when I see his face.
He hasn't moved an inch for the past two minutes and I can't read the expression on his face. Worried, I walk back to him but before I can rest my hand on his shoulder, his eyes rise slowly, so slowly to meet his sister's brown ones.
Sasha's smile wobbles as she opens her mouth to say something but Jean's voice interrupts her before the words can leave her mouth.
I feel my stomach plummet to the ground and beyond at the sound of his voice. His tone.
"I'm going to be an Uncle?" he asks shakily, to her and her only, his eyes boring into hers with a fire I forgot he had still in him. His amber eyes are brimming with unshed tears, tears he won't allow to fall until Sasha confirms this is real, that this isn't some kind of big sick joke that she will rip away from his hands only to watch him crash and burn.
He looks so vulnerable.
And it hurts, it fucking cuts through my heart, because I know he remembers another time where this moment of pure and utter joy had been taken away from us. In the bat of an eye, finding the silver lining in the storm after years of waiting to watch it slip through our fingers.
All these years of waiting, and all for nothing.
Her name was Maria, I remember with a dull pang in my chest, she was 8 and a half. She had a sun-kissed face and a missing tooth at the front. She had red hair and bright green eyes.
Maria had been taken into another foster family after a year and the gaping hole she left behind had engulfed any hope we had left to be parents.
We never mentioned her again nor signed up for another custody afterwards. We built walls around us thick enough to be bulletproof, buried the longing and the pain deep down where it could no longer harm. We shoved all our dreams into a box, locked it and tossed the key at sea without a glance back. We just couldn't afford it.
And it's so stupid how the thought we'd get to become uncles one day never crossed our minds after that. It's more hope than we've dared to feel in a long time, it's all the perks without the cons and how could we have forgotten about this possibility?
I look at him and I know he's scared, he's terrified because he's feeling the very same hope I haven't allowed myself to feel for the past two years.
This time it's different though, I want to scream at him, hoping isn't deadly anymore because this is real.
Sasha bridges the few steps gap between her and her brother, cupping his cheek in her hand softly as she studies his face for a moment. She locks eyes briefly with him, then me and I read it in her eyes. She had been there all along, she knew what we had to go through.
She's saying that it's our chance to taste the happiness we've been deprived of for so long. That this is our gift just as much as it is theirs.
I inhale sharply, fresh tears rolling down my cheek and getting lost in my shirt.
Jean expulses a shaky breath through his nose at the touch of her hand, the fire in his eyes burning, begging for her to say it again. He won't allow himself to feel it otherwise.
He lost so much the last time he allowed himself to hope.
"We meant to tell you earlier but we wanted to reach the first term before announcing the pregnancy to any of you. The baby is healthy, everything is going just fine" Sasha assures with a smile.
"You're going to be an uncle, Jean" she repeats solemnly, her thumb patting his cheek gently as a bright toothed smile blooms on her lips.
And Jean shines like the fucking sun.
He squeezes her in his arms tight enough to bruise, the tears falling carelessly on his cheeks as he mutters over and over again two words that break my heart and mend it back together simultaneously: Thank you.
"Happy wedding day, sweetheart" she whispers in his ear loud enough for us to hear, her face stained with happy tears. Jean screws his eyes shut for a split second before he opens them again and meets Connie's gaze beyond her shoulder. He lets go of Sasha with a kiss on her temple and strides towards his best friend, taking him in his arms with an incredulous shake of his head.
"You're too young to be a father, Springer" Jean's muffled voice laughs.
"Thank God I have six months left to catch up and learn how to adult" Connie smirks, grasping Jean's shoulder in a heartfelt grip.
"You're going to be a great dad, Con" Jean says sincerely as he looks Connie in the eye. They both grin like fools until Jean releases his grip on him and turns around to me.
I chuckle breathlessly when his liquid fire eyes meet mine, our bodies still shaking with emotion in the aftermath. Right here and now, I feel something that I thought was irrevocably lost come back to life within me and I know he does, too.
He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to. We know exactly what the other feels and there aren't many words in this world to put on the feeling, anyways.
The myriad of emotions all comes down to one single word.
Finally.
**
I don't register much of what happens afterwards; I recall being curled up in his arms and the sensation of my heart hammering in my chest. I remember our parents coming over to Sasha and Connie to congratulate them, Jean's mother dabbing at her eyes and my own mother throwing pointed glares at Luke, who had coughed a few times in his fist to hide a grimace.
I don't remember what has been said nor by whom. The sound of voices had been drown out by the chaos of emotions swirling in my body and mind.
Jean's warmth is now leading me across the garden and towards our room, the chilly breeze of the night a welcome change against the heat of my skin. The silence around us is only disturbed by the sound of locusts and the calm measure of our breaths. I'm grateful for him calling it a night after we offered our last congratulations to the future parents. I feel exhausted. At this point I'm only standing upright by willpower alone, driven by the call of my bed and the promise of a good night of sleep.
We don't speak but the silence isn't an uncomfortable one; with him, it never is. The sky is full of bright stars above our heads. We watch over the sky silently, both getting lost in our own thoughts for a little while and calmly walking beside each other. We don't speak until we reach the shelter of our room.
Jean turns to me as soon as I close the room behind me, stopping me from flicking the lights on by cupping my jaw in his hands and depositing a sweet kiss on my lips.
I melt into him, my muscles relaxing under his touch. I break the kiss with a half smile tugging at my lips and wait for him to speak, listening to his short intake of breath turn into a light chuckle.
"I thought my surprise was a good one but little did I know what these two had hidden up their sleeves" he says, his low voice echoing softly in the dark.
"I know right. And I didn't even get a chance to give you mine" I sigh. Though I can barely make out his silhouette in the faint light of the moon, I feel him smile in my arms.
"Oh really?" he slurs seductively, the machinery of his dirty mind already jumping to conclusions before I have a chance to explain myself. I can almost see the perceptible wriggle of his eyebrows in the dark. What a dork.
I stop him before he raises his hopes too high, hushering him with an index.
"Sex is not involved in this so keep it in your pants for now, sailor" I grin.
I let the "for now" slips through because after all, I have absolutely nothing against the idea -mind you- and as tired as I might be, I still have resources left within me.
I just want to give him his present before I forget and we get into other tempting activities that require being naked under the covers.
He groans in frustration when I batt his hand away from the buttons of my shirt and turn to flick the lights on.
"Look under the bed" I tell him, taking off my shoes with a sigh of relief when the pressure loosens around my toes. Gosh, that's nice.
"I've had my fair share of emotions for the day so I hope it's nothing too mind-blowing" he huffs as he crouches down to peek under the bed.
"I definitely can't beat Sasha and Connie's announcement, if that's what you mean" I chuckle, closing the curtains and hopping onto the mattress.
With a victorious ah!, Jean bounces back on his heels and sits opposite to me on the bed, gingerly placing the box on the covers and between us. He waits patiently, only quirking an eyebrow in a silent plea before I give him the nod to open it.
I study his face intently while his fingertips skim over the engraved cursive letters on the case, inside the box. A huge grin cracks up his face when he realizes what it is.
"You didn't" he whispers faintly, his eyes glowing with excitement as they raise to meet mine.
His face is definitely worth the picture. He looks like a kid receiving a puppy for Christmas.
I grin stupidly in return, scraping the back of my head a bit self-consciously before I speak again:
"I had to ask Connie which one you would like better in his opinion, I know next to nothing about tattoo machines..." I tell him, the end of my explanation dying on my tongue when he starts shaking his head incredulously.
He opens his mouth and stutters, clearly dumbfounded:
"Marco, these cost an arm and a leg!" he protests, his brows knitted sternly together but the wanted scolding effect gets lost when he takes the black and faded golden tattoo machine in his hands, feeling the fabric under his touch.
He turns it around, holding it like it's the Holy Grail itself and studying the way the light catches the material of the coils (that's what Connie calls them at least). He hums a low whistle while his thumb brushes lightly over the carved Hendricks trademark on the front.
"You shouldn't h-" he starts with another shake of his head but I cut him off before he can protest any further.
"Do you like it?" I press him in return, searching his eyes with mine.
He looks torn between protesting some more and smack me on the head for a few seconds, until he puts the machine back into its case carefully and slides it aside. I let out a surprised yelp when he tackles me to the bed, pinning me down to the mattress with his legs. My giggles are muffled by the kisses he covers my face with.
"I love it" he declares with a grin, planting more kisses on my nose and cheeks. "I love you, thank you."
I flop my head down on the mattress and grin brightly back at him, pushing the fallen strands of light brown away from his forehead.
"I'm glad" I whisper as he leans forward and lingers his lips on mine, the sweet taste of honey intoxicating my senses I almost forget to say the words back. I gasp them between his lips instead, meaning them each time more than the last time:
"I love you, too."
We fumble into a haze afterwards; there are desperate nails digging and scratching heated skin, flushed chests pressed against another, gasped sighs and mantra of names being uttered between brushing lips. The steady beat of his heart against my ear lulles me back to sleep in the aftermath; I dream of stars and fire, of a cloudless future and afternoons spent in the park with childish giggles bubbling in the air. I dream of alternate universes, of smoke and flames licking the sky, bonfires that turn into a floral arch in summer.
I swear I hear Jean murmur my name one last time before the slumber finally takes over me.