Chapter Text
Eren takes the steps two at a time, stumbling ever so gracefully at the bottom and landing face first into the concrete floor of the basement. A low groan escapes him when his chest makes impact.
He quickly looks up, eyes darting back and forth to make sure no-one saw his pathetic blunder. Jean Kirschtein stares directly back at him from the opposite side of the basement, a can of whipped cream in his hand.
“What the-?” Eren manages to croak before wheezing and having to push himself up into a kneeling position.
“You should take up ballet,” Jean says with a laugh, turning to deface a cardboard box stacked against the wall with a whipped cream smiley face.
As soon as Kirschtein's done with the box he moves on to a dusty old T.V, this time drawing on a whipped cream dick.
The basement isn't Eren's luckily enough. It doesn't stop him from wondering why Jean is drawing cream dicks on every flat surface he can find. Before he can ask another set of footsteps is heard coming down the wooden set of stairs.
Annie almost completely ignores him as she walks past, the not-so-light kick she gives to his side the only recognition she shows. In her arms she carries a whole bundle of whipped cream cans which she dumps in the middle of the room.
“Yo Annie, pass me a new one!” Jean calls out over his shoulder, shaking the can he holds, “I'm almost out.”
There's an audible whack as the whip can hits the back of Jean's head. Eren, like the good friend he is, stifles a laugh.
“Jeez. What the hell?” Kirschtein groans, reaching down to pick the can off the floor whilst simultaneously rubbing his head.
Annie stares at him unflinchingly.
“You told me to pass you a new one,” she says in the same icy tone she always has.
She then turns, directing her glare to Eren whose hand is still up muffling his giggles. Her movements are quick, too quick for Eren to decipher and before he has a chance to react a cream nozzle is staring him directly in the face.
“Are you going help?” Annie asks, “Or do you just plan on watching?”
“I, uh...” Eren mumbles.
The girl takes a step back, eyes, and whip can, still trained on him lest he make a move to escape.
“Those are your only options,” she adds as she positions her finger, ready to release the load, “I can't risk you telling Mikasa about this.”
Eren nods his head quickly, acknowledging the fact that the situation he is in could be fatal. He's a witness now, might as well become an accomplice.
Annie shoves the can into his chest, taking a step back and giving him a knowing nod. And if Eren hadn't known any better he would've sworn he saw the start of smile creeping it's way to the corners of her lips.
“Spray any suitable surface you can find,” she orders, sauntering back over to the whip pile and swiping one up.
“Okay...” Eren mumbles mostly to himself, “Why are we doing this by the way?”
“Revenge,” Jean replies immediately, not looking up from his cream graffiti-ing, “If Sasha hadn't eaten whip straight out of the can at my house none of the shit that happened would've happened.”
Eren glances to the white substance adorning several boxes and dusty items of furniture the memory of last month still fresh in his mind. He sighs, letting the hand holding the cream fall to his side.
“It's not Sasha's fault Marco died Jean,” he calls, taking a seat on the bottom step of the basement stairs.
Jean's head snaps up, the fire of a thousand suns blazing in his eyes. His nostril's flare and his clutch on the can in his hand bends it in half.
“Wait who's Marco?” Historia asks, climbing out from under the basement stairs, hair a mess and the fly of her jeans is undone.
Eren jumps to his feet, aiming the can nozzle at her before realizing that she isn't in fact a ghost.
“He's the one with the freckles,” Annie answers from where she's half inside the tumble dryer, decorating the insides with white.
“I thought that was me?” Ymir says appearing from under the basement stairs behind Historia.
The taller girl's shirt is half undone and Eren has to mentally scold himself for looking in the first place. Historia shoots him a smile before turning around to face her girlfriend, it's a smile that surely means death.
“You're certainly the best person I know with freckles,” the small girl giggles, standing up on her tippy-toes to give Ymir a peck on the cheek.
“Oi!” Jean now yells, can held in the air and pointing at the girlfriends, tears begin the flow freely down his cheeks, “Marco was,” he gulps, “Marco IS the best person who ever had freckles.”
Historia pivots, hands going up to rest on her hips and the death smile back on her face. Ymir scoffs from behind her, crossing her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrows.
Kirschtein's adams apple bobs as he gulps. He turns slowly and cautiously sprays a new surface. Both Historia and Ymir puff out their chests, the smaller of the two letting out a huff of pride.
“Thought so,” she says.
There's a loud buzz from the back pocket of Eren's jeans and he reaches to grab his phone. Annie is in front of him in a matter of seconds, hand stretched out expectantly for the device.
“Pass it,” she orders.
“Can't I just check who it's from?” he requests with a whimper.
Her gaze is cold like ice but she gives him a curt nod and he swipes the phone unlocked.
The message is from Armin: A whole group of you have gone missing ;A; Mikasa says if you're not back here in five minutes she'll start a search! Where are you??????? x
Before he gets the chance to type a reply or even switch the phone off, Annie grabs it from him. Her eyes skim the message before she begins tapping onto the keypad.
“Hey!” Eren yelps only to have the phone, and sent message flashed in his face before the phone is pocketed.
in the basement. come alone ;) xxxxx
The weight of the world comes crashing down on him and he falls onto his ass, hard. Ymir and Historia have long since disappeared back under the staircase and Jean watches the pair curiously.
“Who was that then?” he asks, walking over to the can pile to grab a fresh one.
“Armin,” Annie replies with a shrug, licking a stray squirt of cream off her thumb and gazing at Eren, “He should be here any second.”
As if on cue the door to the basement flies open Armin tumbles down the stair, colliding with Eren at the bottom, sending them both sprawling into the centre of the room. He squeaks, grabbing Eren's head in his hands to make sure he's okay.
“I'm sorry, Eren. Are you okay?” he says before his eyes latch on Jean, and then Annie, “Oh,” he adds, “I thought it'd just be us.”
“Annie took my phone,” Eren explains, rubbing the heel of his hand over his forehead, “I wish it was just us.”
Armin flushes and behind him Eren hears Annie snort.
“Hey!” Jean shouts, demanding attention, “What's going on here? What did she send?”
“Armin and Eren are sucking each other's dicks,” Annie says nonchalantly with a shrug of her shoulders.
Jean gasps and shoots her a wide-eyed look of surprise before the information settles in and he swoons.
“Oh sweet jesus fucking christ you are kidding me,” Eren whispers and they all stare mournfully at Jean's unconscious form lying splayed out across the floor.
“He should really see someone about that,” Armin suggests, his hands are still on Eren's face, not that either of them mind.
They watch as Annie saunters over to the slumbering form, gives it a kick in the stomach for good luck and then picks up two cream cans and chucks them at her new accomplices.
“Get whipping,” she says.
One can hits Armin dead on the nose, the other Eren manages to skilfully catch in both hands. Annie gives him a nod of approval for the quick reaction. And Armin finally removes his hands from Eren's face to nurse his nosebleed.