Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jean leans forward, his bass in his hand.
“I thought we didn’t have a gig coming up anytime soon.”

They’re back in their rehearsal space for the first time in a good while. Practices had been on halt simply because there was a lack of need for them. With no performances in the near future, the band decided to save the money that would’ve gone towards renting the space. That and Jean had been allowed to have more lessons with Marco.

And now, they’re all back here again.

“We didn’t. Not until last night.”

He raises an eyebrow, signaling the need for an explanation, feeling no need to vocalize his questions. Sasha is more than happy to provide.

“I got a call from the venue yesterday after we got home from Marco’s. It’s the same venue from that one show we had with his band. They called me and asked if we wanted to get squeezed in.”

Connie joins the conversation, looking between Sasha and Jean, a grin on his face.
“Someone else canceled at the last minute. So, we took the opportunity.”

It made sense that Connie knew the details of these plans right after they were made; those two are roommates, and the closest friends Jean has ever seen. They were practically siblings.

He just finds it interesting that he wasn’t informed about this through a text or a phone call right when it happened. Jean only found out about the rehearsal in the early morning, hours before it was happening.

Somehow, it seems suspicious to him. Something was off about the whole thing. It felt more spontaneous than normal, even for this hand. The group was all about having fun and taking things easy, this felt a bit uncharacteristic. With all their gigs in the past, they got scheduled as a group with plenty of time in advance. Weeks, at a minimum. A good amount to prepare. Today is a Tuesday; this new performance is on Saturday, only four short days away.

Jean nods slowly. His eyes narrow in concentration, trying to rationalize everything. A laugh comes out.

“You guys are planning something, aren’t you?”

Such a thing feels almost ridiculous to say out loud. What could they possibly be planning behind his back? Nothing for his birthday, that was months away. It couldn’t be the anniversary of the band forming; there wasn’t even really a specified date for that happening, and even if it was a date they all remembered, it hardly seemed like a thing to celebrate in this way. His exclusion from immediately knowing about the plans makes him think that something is up, something that he isn’t allowed to be privy to.

He doesn’t ask the question in a derogatory way; if anything, he finds the whole thing amusing, albeit slightly frustrating. Curiosity is getting to him. A good part of him is convinced the whole thing is just a funny joke. His accusation is totally light-hearted.

“No! I wasn’t expecting it either! I thought they’d call someone else before us, maybe even Paradis, but it seemed like we were the first ones.”

“Paradis isn’t really a group anymore, not since Marco left.”

“That’s not public knowledge yet, none of them have announced it. And I don’t think they will for a while, everyone loves him.”

All of that was true. Jean had taken a moment once to peruse their social media accounts to see if any member would say anything about the truth, or worse, anything bad about Marco, any lies or nasty rumors. Nothing. It was like they were pretending all was well. For some of them, that was true.

“They really wanted us?”

“Yeah,” Sasha replies, with a face that conveys that she’s just as shocked as he was. “They want us.”

It’s not that The 104 are a bad group. Quite the contrary, they’re a fantastic group, only in a competitive area. Securing a headlining gig at a nice venue like that is difficult, and oftentimes, bands have to beg for that chance. A great opportunity that was just handed to them through a phone call.

Jean smiles to himself, a quiet laugh coming out. He gives up on his half-joking conspiracy theory and accepts that maybe, just maybe, his band is more highly in demand than he thought.

Did the crowd genuinely love them that much when they were there? From the recollections of their applause and their screams, the answer is answered pretty easily. They loved Sasha, and how could they not? She was so lovely up there with her smile and her gorgeous voice, not to mention her being a double threat on guitar. No doubt people loved Connie with all the effortless energy he brings to the drum set, ceaseless, boundless energy, teeming with aggression but never going too far. He knew what he was doing.

As for himself … Jean saw them get impressed by him, saw the way they adored it when he challenged Sasha. It was a rush of serotonin, a boost of endorphins.

All that makes this arrangement much easier to believe, and besides, Sasha wasn’t a liar. She is sweet, smart, funny, and talented, but a word you cannot use to describe her is liar.

“Okay,” He says, partially as a way of convincing himself it’s true and partially as a simple response to Sasha. “What’s the plan?”

“We wanna change it up a little. Add new songs to the setlist, really give them a show. What do you think?”

A hand runs through his hair. He sighs, though it’s not a sigh of disappointment or any real negative emotion. It’s more of a sigh that says “I can’t believe you have to nerve to try this and I love you for it.”

Jean nods.
“If you think we can get it ready in time, then let’s go for it. Just hope you’ve got good ideas for songs.”

Headlining would require a decent amount of songs, a good amount more than what they had for that previous performance. The three of them would have to carry their weight without the help of other bands.

In a better world, they could’ve done a double feature. It could’ve been The 104 and Paradis together, a show of two excellent vocalists, maybe even side by side. The seven of them could have been friends. Maybe Sasha could’ve gotten Annie to smile with a post-encore embrace. Reiner and Connie could’ve excitedly yelled to each other about which one was louder. Bertholdt might have even looked at Jean from across the stage, and the two of them could have acknowledged the other's talent in the best way they both knew how.

And Marco …

Well, Marco would have stolen the whole show.

“I do. But I want to hear your suggestions, too. Then we can get to work.”

Setting all of their equipment aside, the group takes a seat on the floor. Sasha lays on her stomach with her legs up in the air, a blank sheet of notebook paper in front of her. She taps the pencil she’s holding against the hard floor as if that’s some technique to try and brainstorm ideas more quickly. Jean and Connie sit on
opposite sides of the paper; the latter sits with his legs crisscrossed while the former lifts one knee to his chest as the other is stretched out beside him.

They go back and forth on suggestions. The ideal number they want to achieve is eight songs. Sasha had already been told by the venue that an opener could be found for them; that wasn’t something the group needed to busy themselves with, a real relief. If that group provides a comfortable set of a few songs, they were in great shape, especially for such an impromptu concert like this.

“Cool for the Summer should stay as the opening song. People seemed to like it last time. Not to mention, if we re-use it, that’s one less new song we have to learn.” Sasha writes it down on the top of the sheet with a little star beside it, though she looks to her bandmates for approval, not yet making it an executive decision.

“You just like how it shows off all your skills,” Jean quips, though he likes it for the same reason. He loves watching Sasha get all happy to play her favorites. It always motivates him to try and reach her level.

“If I’m remembering correctly, I’m not the one who started challenging me the last time we played it.”

The playful teasing briefly silences Jean, who looks aside to try and prevent them from seeing his growing smirk and the redness creeping onto his cheeks. She was absolutely right, but when she said it out loud, with that lovely smile spread across her lips, he starts feeling flustered.

“Yeah, yeah. What about the others?”

It takes them quite a long time to finish off the list. Progress was slow, with some gentle debate on the suggestions given. They try to get some nice versatility in the songs they choose. Though they always pick songs that can be elevated with rambunctious energy, to have them all sound the same would be boring. That’s the last thing they want to be called.

After a good hour of brainstorming, the list is complete. And that goal of theirs comes true; it’s a good mix, practically begging to be made into a more intense experience, something this trio can fulfill.

They all go back to their respective instruments, getting into position to start.

“Quick run-through of Cool for the Summer as a warm-up? Then we’ll start chipping away at the new stuff.”

Four days to perfect seven new songs.
Four days of long, diligent rehearsals. One day to prove that the three of them made the time count.

Just as he’s about to give the signal that he’s ready, Jean gets a text. Normally, he would just ignore it, assuming it’s nothing important, something that can be addressed later. He has a good feeling, though, of who this one is coming from.
“When does your rehearsal end?”

He smiles. This should’ve been expected. Whatever little surprise Marco has planned for today, Jean finds himself excited, yearning for the moment he walks through those doors.

“2. Or somewhere around then. You should come by after you get off of work. Sasha has work after, you can come say hi <3.”

A small pause. The three little dots appear, ready to bring a happy response back like they always do.

“What kind of coffee does everyone want?”

A gentle shake of his head accompanied by a smile and Jean relays their normal order to Marco. He can imagine his boyfriend rushing around his little cafe, working hard to make all three drinks as perfectly as he can. The boy just returned to work this week, and no doubt he’s already pushing himself to make up for the lost time. Marco was working every day this week, at different times, on different shifts. When included with all the band practices, they didn’t have much time to hang out, let alone hold any more guitar practices, an unfortunate truth that made the both of them incredibly sad to figure out.

“I’ll be there!!!!! <333.”

Connie notices him staring at his phone with that goofy half-smile on his face. It would’ve been more suspicious if one of them hadn’t noticed. Jean isn’t exactly subtle.

“Who was that?”

“Marco. He wants to stop by for a little while after his shift and bring us coffee.”

“Oh, good, I’ll need it,” Sasha sighs with a smile, clearly thinking about the hours that she would have to be working right after Marco. “That’s sweet of him.”

“Did you get my order right?” Connie leans over from his drum set, a grin on his face that can only mean trouble. His specialty, at this point.

“A chocolate latte. Even asked him to put that chocolate drizzle on top that you like so much.” It was a request that Marco, as expected, made no objections to.

“You’re such a bad friend. You should know that I switched to caramel drizzle instead.” Coming from anyone else, Jean may have believed him. But he remembers all too well how excited Connie gets when he tastes that chocolate, almost like a little kid in a candy shop. He sees right through the playful white lie.

“Nice try,” Jean retorts, rolling his eyes lightly as he slips his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s do that run-through. Hopefully, we’re not too rusty.”

They go through the song, and it’s as if they had been doing it every day since that initial concert. The energy isn’t quite as high as it would be on stage, but that’s all for the sake of preventing a noise complaint from appearing in the mailbox.

The group moves on to other songs. Sasha suggests that they learn two new songs for the day, polishing those up before they add more tomorrow. This rehearsal allows them to practice Paramore’s Ain’t It Fun, a proposal from Sasha, and Nirvana’s Come As You Are, a request from Jean. Different styles, inconsistency already threading their way through the setlist. No better way to keep the audience on their toes, and all excellent methods for compromise, allowing all the members a chance to play their favorite songs.

They devote their time well, getting through their songs and working out some of the major kinks preventing them from being performable. This practice is meant more for an introduction; the fine-tuning can occur throughout the week.

Just as it’s winding down, there’s a knock at the studio door, and Jean doesn’t need to look to see who’s there. He just immediately jumps up and opens the door for his lovely boyfriend, coming to pay a visit.

Marco stands there wearing his barista uniform still. He’s got the apron tied around his neck and waist, brandishing the logo of the place he works. It’s noticeable that his hair is a little messier than normal, looking rather fluffed up. No doubt from him running his fingers through it after a bit of a stressful shift.

And in his hands, there’s a container holding four drinks. Jean can see that all of the orders are correct, though he never had any doubt that his boyfriend would miss any of the details.

“Hey.” Jean has to suppress himself, though with his back turned to the rest of the group, he’s free to show off a giddy smile at the sight of his beloved boy.

He gets a sweet smile right back in return. Just makes Jean want to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Hi … Is Sasha still here? I have her coffee. Was hoping I’d catch her before work.”

“Uh-huh … no one’s left yet, we just finished.”
A step is taken back, with Jean holding the door open for Marco as he’s invited inside. The others immediately get up to greet him, collecting their coffee in the process.

Once he’s left with an empty container, Marco sets it aside and starts catching up with his friends.
“Is it going well? Practice?”

It’s Sasha that answers him. With her typical sweet smile.

“I think so … I think we’ll be ready in time. Not that we have a choice. But I’m glad you’re coming to watch.”

That gets Jean to raise an eyebrow. It had been an assumption for him that Marco would be tagging along with them to watch their performance, but Sasha must have beat him to the punch of actually inviting him there. In their private time together, Jean made subtle references to it, implying things to make it sound like he’d already accepted an invitation.

He’s not upset about it, nothing like that. If anything, it just makes Jean feel a little embarrassed for not making that move sooner. Foolishly unaware that he’s making a much bigger deal out of this than he ought to be.

A smile comes to his face. Like someone flirting with their high school crush, Jean gently punches his shoulder and leans in closer. Lacking many delicate undertones; he’s never been subtle.

“You better be in the front row. Right next to all the screaming girls that adore us.”

As expected, that thinly-veiled flirtation gets Marco to blush, lifting his hand to reach back into his hair, a nervous habit Jean has picked up on.

“I will, but don’t expect too much screaming. I’m not that loud.”

“No, you’re nothing like these idiots. You don’t make my ears hurt when you’re around.”

Big talk for someone who’s openly challenged Sasha to a contest of volume before. His teasing is ruthless and unrelenting, leaving no one unscathed. Even this sweet boy that hand-delivered them their coffee.

“I think that’s a compliment. Right?”

Luckily, Marco isn’t nearly as meek as some people must think he is. He’s capable of his own witty replies, able to match Jean incredibly well.

Funny how wrong he ended up being about the boy from the other band with the perfect voice. He’s just happy he was smart enough to give Marco a chance. Or at least, smart enough to listen to Sasha.

“It is. I thought that was obvious.”

His tone is soft, almost gentle. There’s a lovely smile to match it, showing just how much he’s obsessed with every conversation they share.

Jean turns around to look at ‘those idiots’ again, only to see Sasha practically grinning as she sips her hot beverage. She’s always been bubbly, but for some reason today it feels mischievous. Something he’d expect from Connie, without question.

“What?”

Her eyes get bigger for a brief moment before returning to normal. Another sip is taken before she’s willing to form a response.

“Nothing. Just got a little carried away with my coffee. It’s the best coffee I’ve ever tried.”

To no surprise, Marco gets flustered again.

“I just wanted to make sure it was perfect. That’s all.”

Humble as ever, unwilling to show an ounce of arrogance. It’s one of his traits that Jean admires most.

Still, Jean doesn’t fully believe Sasha. Something feels off about that expression she was making. She was staring right at him and Marco as they were joking around with each other; how long has that smirk been playing on her lips?

It doesn’t seem entirely . . Right. There’s an aspect about it that’s off, triggering Jean’s advanced perceptive abilities.

Smirking like some cartoonish villain.

They’ve already established that Sasha is more than aware of his romantic fixation on Marco. And though she highly suspected the other shared those feelings, she’s never had confirmation of that fact. As far as Jean is concerned, the only two people aware of their new relationship are him and Marco. Keeping things calm to start.

That is unless she noticed them holding hands underneath the blanket that late evening. In their unwavering affections for one another, surely they forget to be more careful about being spotted by a keen eye.

His gentle paranoia distracts him from reality long enough to leave him uncomfortably half-staring at Sasha. Like he’s investigating her, and the restless expression on his face aids that theory.

“Earth to Jean. You there?”
Sasha’s voice beckons him back to the present.

With a shake of his head, his attention is centered again, awareness seeping back into his gaze.

“Yeah . . Sorry. Should we call it a day?”

Losing focus isn’t his style. If anything, he’s normally too laser-focused, eyebrows furrowed as he studies his task and plans the next move. Marco’s come into his life and shaken him to the core, turning him into a flustered, distracted mess. Not that it’s a bad thing. Just a little humiliating when he embarrasses himself in front of the band. It’s doing nothing to help his case; none of his actions are subtle, none hiding much of the truth.

Luckily, Sasha agrees.
“Uh-huh. Gotta go to work anyways.”

Sipping at his coffee, Jean watches as his best friend collects her belongings, carrying what she can over his shoulder, drink balanced in one hand before she walks straight to Marco.

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Text you later.”

Cupping his face, she presses a sweet kiss to his cheek, drawing a warm smile onto his face. Affection did a number on the boy, and it’s almost enough to make Jean blow his cover, grinning. Admittedly, he’s confused as all hell over why Sasha would be texting him specifically that evening. Sure, they were all good friends, but Jean wasn’t aware that those two were on the terms of hanging out individually and texting in the evenings. With all the strange circumstances surrounding this gig, the mystery of how it came to be and why he wasn’t included in the organization, he’s perhaps being more cautious and analytical than he ought to be. Looking into this stuff could get him the answers; not to mention, he’s confident that Marco would just give him an honest answer if he asked for one.

That sweet boy wouldn’t do a thing to hurt them. Though Jean tends to get jealous easily, just as he is in this case, he has all the faith in Marco. Besides, it’s silly for him to get all envious of his best friend kissing his boyfriend. Gentle, platonic affection is Sasha’s style, and when she kissed Marco at the bowling alley it was no different.

He knows that no matter what, he’s the one Marco will be cuddling into tonight. Meeting up often, rendezvousing at either of their apartments, has become tradition. After all, it’s the only time they get to relax together outside of rehearsals and work without everything being seen.

If anything odd is happening, Marco doesn’t show it. He just smiles, nodding

“Yeah .. Later.”

She gives them all one last goodbye, waving and flashing a proper smile before heading out the door and into the parking lot, leaving for the day. As expected, Connie follows shortly after. Practice was done for the day, and they deserved to head home and relax. Learning a whole new set-list in a week isn’t exactly lightwork.

When left alone, Jean is given the chance to decompress, gazing over at his boyfriend adoringly. He finds a seat on top of a sturdy stack of boxes, leaning against it and immediately opening his arms, gesturing for an embrace.

Without hesitation, Marco comes.
Slotting himself between limbs, feeling warmth come around his waist. Squeezed tight.

Jean rests his head against the other’s chest, sighing happily. Feeling right at home again. Any aching muscles that developed from the stress of the band’s endeavor are cured, or at the very least, shift from being in his attention.

“Missed you.”

Laughing softly, Marco moves his hands, fingers digging into Jean’s hair and playing with it. Something he’s learned is a favorite of his.

“Did you? That’s sweet. Missed you more. Just kept thinking about how badly I wanted to leave work.”

In response, the blonde presses his chin to the place where his boyfriend’s ribs connect, looking up at him with innocent, pleading eyes.

“Can I get a kiss? Please?”

“Just because you said ‘please’. You’re getting such good manners, Jean.”

In between more grinning, their mouths come together, a gentle kiss, the right amount of pressure to keep things delicate. Showing off the affection between them, these moments are much too rare.

When they come apart, their foreheads stay close together. Never-ending soft smiles, just reveling in the feeling and atmosphere of each other. Fully aware that Connie could come back at any time to collect something he forgot; that happens a lot.

Marco breaks the silence.
“My feet hurt.” A casual complaint, one to be expected after working a job like his for hours. Jean takes advantage of it easily.

“Come here, then,” He coos, untangling the pair before gently tugging his boyfriend forward, collecting him into his lap, hands careful as they maintain a close hold on his waist. Keeping their position steady.

They sit in quiet, the only noise coming from outside, the occasional blare of a horn, people walking by in conversation, laughing. No more words, using only their physical contact to convey all the sappiness they wish to convey, non-verbal love letters written so sweetly through their fingertips and the skin of their forearms, pressing warmth into the other. Sharing soft kisses, addicted to the feeling of their mouths fitting together.

Neither is willing to leave for a good while.
Not until Jean makes a complaint about his ass hurting, and Marco offers to give him a ride home.

By the end of the last rehearsal, the group feels confident.
There’s no choice, no room for error at this point, but with the use of their collective talents (and some sheer dumb luck), the set is ready for the stage.

To celebrate, Sasha was kind enough to bring half a bottle of wine, not enough to get them drunk, but enough the celebrate. She pops it open to raucous cheers inside their little rented studio, lounging back against the wall and taking a drink straight from the neck, only passing it over to Connie when he harps on her.

“Quit hogging it, idiot ... I deserve it.”

“I paid for it. Ask nicely.”

She relents when he loses the attitude and pleads nicely. Giving him his treat, laughing as the exchange occurs, and allowing her head to gently fall back against the wall once it’s completed.

Across the room, against the adjacent wall, Jean watches his friends behave like fools, occasionally making sly glances over at the boy beside him. Just as before, Marco opts to refuse the alcohol. After all, they need a designated driver to get everyone home.

In solidarity, Jean doesn’t drink either.
He’d rather spend his tender moments with Marco sober, even if he’s around his friends. Besides, the guy doesn’t wanna endure a hangover on the day of a big gig. They all know how poorly he handles his alcohol.

Marco cuts through the quiet first, nudging Jean’s shoulder to fully get his attention. Speaking softly, like it’s a private conversation.

“Are you feeling good about tomorrow? Nervous?”

“Yeah. Just glad you’re coming. Be a shame if you had to work during our big break.”

Chuckling, the teasing comes so naturally. Though he’s partially joking, this show means a great deal to him. Could be their first big moment in the city’s music scene, a show all to themselves.

“I wouldn’t let them keep me away. This is important to me. Need to be there.”

That comment leaves Jean with the subtle blush growing over his cheekbones, flustering him more than he’d ever like to admit. He’s lucky the time of day keeps sunshine from pouring inside the studio and exposing their little secret. Only a few rather dim lights keep them from being fully submerged in the darkness of the evening. Jean isn’t exactly difficult to read; his emotions are always right there on his face, whether it’s happiness, disgust, anger, or anything in between. Sasha would notice immediately just how content and at peace he looks around Marco now, his typical resting scowl nowhere in sight.

It isn’t difficult to see he’s a puppy in love.
He just uses the fact that Sasha and Connie are distracted by each other as an excuse.

“Yeah .. Need you there, too.”
His nerves come through with his softer tone, less assured in himself than usual.

Needs his comfort, his presence. Needs someone to pull into a tight embrace after they’re finished and the adrenaline rush is still high. Just having Marco around will ease any doubts he has about them being taken seriously. Confidence and cockiness can only take him so far.

In a bold move, Marco shifts the hand between them, resting his palm on the inside of Jean’s closest knees and rubbing the skin through his pants. This is even more obnoxious than flirty expressions or hand-holding, and Jean immediately gets flustered, though he makes no protests towards the tender touches.

The other boy notices his reaction. Hiding and playing pretend aren’t a big of a concern for him; that anxiety is left for Jean to handle.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t think about them, don’t worry about all that. Promise, they won’t notice. Just focus on me, okay? I wanna make you feel calm.”

Getting even bolder, a kiss is pressed to Jean’s cheek, Marco lingering for a few seconds to press a few smaller, softer kisses to the skin before pulling away and returning to normal.

As predicted, the other two don’t notice. They’re so preoccupied pouring the bottle down each other’s throats that the happy couple a little distance away could practically be considered invisible.

That doesn’t stop Jean from getting even more red, becoming a tomato on the spot and silently cursing his boyfriend in his head, damning him for turning him into such a puddle with little effort.

“See?” Marco smiles, bumping him again. “I promised, didn’t I? How are you feeling?”

A deep, peaceful sigh comes from Jean. Through his embarrassment, he wears the brightest, prettiest smile on his features … Just shows how big of a damn sap he is.

“Like I really, really wanna kiss you. Can we get going soon? I wanna climb into bed and stay there for the rest of tonight and tomorrow.”

They share sweet laughter, and Marco just continues to hold his leg. It’s starting to bounce carefully, a nervous habit of his. Still, the limb bounces less than normal, less aggressively than it typically does when nerves get the better of him. He can only assume the touches are soothing him, though they may also be a contributing factor. Regardless, as much as the hold flusters him, it still feels like therapy. Relaxing to the core, making him so comfortable with everything.

“Gotta stay until they’re done and tired … I’m driving everyone home, remember? You’re getting addicted to cuddling, you know … it’s making you impatient.”

Pouting, Jean can’t help but sass back. Now, along with thoughts of being cozy back in bed, he’s actively plotting how to get his friends to call it a night already so they can get out of here.

“There are worse things to be addicted to, Mar. You’re warm … It’s not my fault.”

He’s not even sure where that new nickname comes from. The abbreviation slipped from his lips before he thought to ask if his boyfriend liked it.

Turning his whole body to face Jean, Marco expresses his approval through a warm smile. The hand resting on his knee shifts instead to come around to touch his arm. Though Jean wouldn’t have predicted it when they first met, or even when they first started seeing each other, his handsome boy is much more willing to publicly show off his affections than anticipated. He doesn’t shy away from touching him … from getting close. He’s not timid about things … All his movements seem so confident. Jean tells himself that it’s all his personality rubbing off onto the boy.

That, or he’s just getting his assumptions all proven incorrect, one by one. Instead of a shy, pure of heart, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly sweetheart, he’s dating someone with all those characteristics plus a proclivity towards flirty teasing, getting a laugh and a blush out of his partner … Marco seems to have a good deal many more tricks up his sleeve.

And here he was thinking /he/ was the Casanova of the relationship. Or, maybe he’s just been telling himself that to instill some confidence in his abilities. Either way, he’s being outsmarted, and Marco is reaping all the benefits of getting to see him turned into such a blushy, sappy mess.

“Mar … that’s cute.”

Another sigh, but this time, Jean shakes his head gently. His leg is bent, sliding up to come closer to his chest, unable to stay in one position for long.

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“No, I don’t think so. Am I?”

“A little.”

Marco laughs, his head daring to fall right onto Jean’s shoulder, resting there happily.

“I’m sorry. Kinda. Not really. I can’t help it.”

At this point, continuing to be coy and to hide from Sasha and Connie’s peering gazes feels pointless, so he decides to no longer bother trying. A kiss is pressed to the top of Marco’s head, Jean’s laying right on top of it after his lips move. If they didn’t have somewhere to be, and they didn’t have babysitting duty, he could’ve easily fallen asleep and taken a nap right there.

From this position, he watches their friends easily. Connie lays with his back to the ground, Sasha sitting beside him, holding his mouth wide open as alcohol is poured inside, some excess spilling onto his face. Her back faces Jean, so he knows she’s completely distracted.

It’s just fun watching them act like idiots. The alcohol doesn’t concern him at all. Whatever trace amounts are left in Connie’s system tomorrow will be sweat out during the final pre-show rehearsal.

Another kiss gets peppered onto soft, black hair.
“I’m not like that when I’m drinking, right?”

A question he already partially knows the answer to, given their shared experiences. He’s only curious to hear how merciless Marco is in his teasing.

Partially muffled by the position they’re in, Marco doesn’t hold back. His voice is dripping with playful sarcasm, and Jean feels the grip on his arm getting stronger.

“No, not at all. You just get up and dance until you pass out and also serenade your crush. Nothing like what they’re doing, babe.”

“You’re mean. Are you sure you like me?”

Surprise after surprise keeps coming. The biggest one of the night happens when Marco lifts himself from Jean’s shoulder and lifts his hand to grab his chin, gripping onto it firmly to hold him in place while the dark-haired boy stole a kiss, passionate yet sweet, short but not at all rushed.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes wide, his heart racing, Jean has to process everything for a moment before he can respond. How was this and what have they done with Marco?

“When the hell did you get so smooth?”

“I’m just excited for tomorrow. I guess it’s helping.”

“You’re cruel … Now I just wanna kiss you more.”

He’s about to make his first proper move of the evening when the sound of glass breaking interrupts him and snaps them back into reality.

Shifting aside, Jean can get a better lot at the situation. Sasha sits on top of Connie to pin him down to the ground like two siblings play-wrestling, her hand frozen up above the guy below her, expression full of shock. Connie’s arms are reaching for hers, showing clear signs of a struggle.

Doesn’t take much to deduce that they were fighting for possession of the bottle, and lackluster coordination and focus cost them both the opportunity.

The glass is a mess for the two sober men to worry about cleaning up, but neither seems particularly bothered. For Jean, it’s nice to be the one that gets to make fun of them for once, rather than the opposite way. Luckily, the bottle didn’t shatter into a million tiny pieces. Clean-up won’t be terrible.

Jean’s only annoyance comes from the fact that the opportunity to smother his boyfriend with kisses has been delayed permanently until they get back somewhere more secluded.

“Think that’s our cue to get them home. I can stay back and clean the glass … if you think you can handle getting them into your car on your own?”

Slowly, Marco pushes off the floor, stretching his arms above his head. adjusting to being fully vertical once again. He holds out his hand, and Jean takes the assistance without resistance, though it’s mostly just so he can hold his boyfriend’s hand, even just for a couple of seconds.

“It’s not the first time I’ve done it. Don’t worry. I’ll surprise you with my strength.”

Jean observes as Marco handles the other two like a professional. Encouraging them to relent, using the sweetest, kindest voice he can. Just as he helped Jean, he extends his hand again, lifting them both up to stand, though much more unstable. As planned, there wasn’t enough wine to go around to get them hammered or anything. Just enough to make coordination a little bit of a problem.

He watches as Sasha swings her arm around Marco’s shoulder, Connie around his waist.

It’s not hard to believe at all that he’s done this before, and will likely have to do it again at least a few more times. The job of designated babysitter probably wasn’t one he thought he’d end up with in the long run when he got integrated into the group.

“I’ll be there soon, promise.”

Smiling, Marco leads his two temporary children off, speaking softly just as he’s opening the door.

“Don’t take too long, yeah? I’m not sure how long I can keep them from running off. And be careful … I don’t wanna see you cut yourself on glass.”

“Yes, sir. No bleeding tonight.”

Left alone, each piece of glass is taken care of carefully and tossed into the nearest garbage. Doing it with his bare hands isn’t exactly the definition of safety, but it gets the job done. Lacking a genuine towel to use, Jean has to make use of his sleeve to soak up the trace amounts of wine left on the floor. It’s not one of his favorite shirts, thankfully, or else he could’ve been put into a sour mood … For a couple minutes, at least, before thoughts of Marco would cure him of his attitude.

He can’t stop grinning to himself as he’s working, knowing that it means he’s one minute closer to spending another night with the boy who’s practically his roommate by now, based on how much time they spend together.

After finishing up, collecting his things, and locking up the studio for the night, Jean walks as quickly as he can to that familiar car. The front seat is still his for the taking, and he climbs inside after storing all the equipment in the back trunk.

“Let’s get these dumbasses home, yeah?”

“Such a sweetheart.” Marco chuckles to himself, unable to resist the urge to send out another tease.

“Hey, they’re /my/ dumbasses. I say it with love.”

Deeming that an acceptable answer, Marco looks back at their company, checking on them before he pulls out of the parking spot and heads over to their apartment building.

Jean curses every red light, his leg bouncing.
Getting to the place and then getting them safely inside and into bed feels like it takes years.

By the time they’re on the way to his apartment, he’s restless. On the verge of insanity, an insanity that’ll only go away when he’s comfortably sandwiched between two arms.

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Yeah? I can’t wait to see it.”

“Will you watch me while I’m sleeping? That’s a little creepy, sweetheart, don’t you think?”

“You’re too damn pretty not to. Plus, I know that having your hair played with makes you sleep better. I've done experiments.”

Another blush. Christ, he’s good.
Too good. That shuts him up quick, and only leaves him hiding his face in his arms where the airbag is. Unable to stop smiling, feeling so absurdly lucky.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me into bed and hold me, you gorgeous, gorgeous boy. Lots of kisses, too.”

“So many … I promise.”

It’s hard for him to experience pre-show jitters when he’s so distracted with thoughts of pure comfort.

They spend the bulk of the day cuddling in bed, just as promised. Marco urges him multiple times that they should get up and start getting ready for the day, but Jean refuses each time, only clinging harder, arms wrapping around that waist like there’s no tomorrow. Groggy from staying up late talking the previous night, he only wants to take lots of little naps comfortably in his boyfriend’s arms.

By the fifth time Marco tries to get him to budge, it’s around one in the afternoon.

“Jean, baby … We can’t stay in bed all day.”

He only groans, face buried in his chest. He’s wrapped around, tangled up like a big baby. Groaning and grumbling, never a morning person.

“Why not? We’ve got hours.”

Marco even sweetens the deal by playing one of the best cards, scratching at his scalp and running slow fingers through blonde hair.

“You take a while to get ready, Jean. I know you wanna look all handsome tonight … You have all those pretty girls screaming for you, remember?”

Tired of hiding, Jean loosens his arms and shifts their position, climbing on top of Marco and suffocating the smaller boy beneath his weight and height, cupping his cheeks. A kiss is pressed to his forehead and his nose, with one more lingering against his lips … Smiling as he does.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Just wanna make sure today is perfect,” Marco, from his compromised, squished position, reaches up to press one palm to his upper chest while the other investigates a tuft of hair wildly out of place. “You’ve got bad bedhead … It’s sweet.”

Jean gives in, laughing as he rolls off, shaking his head to try and fix all his hair problems. That just gives Marco the chance to steal the open ground, switching their spots and claiming Jean’s chest and legs as his personal mattress.

Before the larger male can object, he’s interrupted and cut off with more kisses. Feeling himself soften into all the sensations as his hands rest on the waist resting against his own.

Even when they break apart, Marco holds his face steady as half a million kisses are pressed to every corner, refusing to leave a single portion untouched.

Between jovial laughter and half-assed attempts to escape the barrage of affection, Jean manages to speak, albeit breathlessly. “Mar, sweetheart … I have something to ask you.”

That’s the only thing that makes the other stop, although Jean secretly wishes he’d keep going.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me get ready?”

They get to work immediately. Clambering out of bed, both men stretch their limbs and crack any bones that have been getting much too long of a rest for one afternoon. Jean heads into the bathroom, followed closely by his boyfriend (now acting as an assistant), to assess the damage.

He spends a good amount of time fixing his hair, combing and styling into his gif-typical half-up, half-down look while he has a sweet boy with his arms wrapped close around his waist, head resting on his shoulder … Curious eyes glancing upward at the man whose space he’s occupying.

That comfort is all the help Jean needs. A big smile is a permanent feature on his face as he’s making himself feel confident in his gig-ready appearance.

His boyfriend gets to bear witness to his morning routine again like he has in the other times they’ve spent the night together. Washing his face, cleansing himself, and making his skin feel good. Taking care of himself, especially on concert days, makes him feel relaxed and accomplished, not to mention rather appealing. Jean prides himself on his skincare routine.

For the special occasion, he decides to do some makeup, reaching over the counter for some eyeliner, the only makeup he knows how to do well.

“Don’t move, okay? Gotta concentrate.”

“I think you’d look sexy with it smudged. You’d look like a real rockstar, babe.”

The compliment makes him grin, unfastening the cap from the eyeliner and holding it above his eye, preparing to apply it with the precision he always does.

“If you call me sexy again, we’re gonna be spending the rest of the day in bed making out. You hear me?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing … Maybe I’ll smudge it on purpose.”

Turning his head enough to bring his lips to Marco’s temple, Jean smiles as he presses three soft kisses to the skin. Laughing, he shakes his head.

“Sasha would kill you if she saw you complimenting me so much … She’ll think you’re trying to boost my ego or something like that.”

“Sasha loves me.”

Regaining his previous position, the only thing Jean can do is glance sideways at his boyfriend. Sighing in defeat, he looks into the mirror with a smile, bringing the applicator to his eye and assumes the ugly facial expression that everyone uses when eyeliner is getting applied.

“Yes, she does. She’s biased.”

Marco falls silent, opting to quietly observe Jean completing his look. One eye is done with ease, connecting the bottom and top layers to create a subtle look.

Just as he’s starting in on the second eye, the one hugging onto him breaks his short-lived silence long enough to relish him with a soft-spoken compliment.

“You look pretty … Just saying.”

“You’re gonna mess me up … Don’t make me blush, Mar … I can’t focus when you’re being so damn sweet to me.”

His boyfriend squeezes him tighter, kissing wherever we can find while Jean smiles, going back to finishing off the eyeliner. When the look is complete, he sets the bottle aside and checks himself out in the mirror, satisfied by the gentle grunge appearance he’s got going.

“What do you think?”

“You know what I’m gonna say.”

“And /you/ know how much I love hearing it.”

Releasing his hold completely, Marco delicately takes hold of Jean’s waist, turning his body so that they’re facing each other. His arms reach up to cup his cheeks, rubbing thumbs over the bones. They share adoring gazes and sappy, sweet smiles.

“You look handsome. The most handsome.”

“Promise you’re not just saying that?”

“Promise. I can’t wait to see it with your outfit.”

Naturally, his best look isn’t going to be when he’s wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and comfy pajama pants best suited for sleeping together and cuddling. It’s all coming together slowly, the hair, the face … Before the clothes, he’s got one more thing he wants to perfect before moving on.

“It’ll look good, can tell you that. Can I ask another favor? Thought you might wanna get more hands-on with helping me get ready.”

“What’s the favor?” Jean knows he’ll say yes regardless because that’s just the kind of person Marco is, but some context would surely be appreciated.

His initial answer comes in the form of a question.

“Do you have a real steady hand?”

Within minutes, Marco is sitting back on the bed with Jean between his legs, the latter’s back facing the other’s chest, resting comfortably. His hands are raised as Marco assists him in touching up his fingernails with a fresh coat of nail polish. The perfectionist within him usually only allows such an important task to be completed by himself, but he trusts Marco with his life at this point and knows he’ll do a good job.

Besides, it’s fun just sitting here and watching his boyfriend hold his hand and get so concentrated on making his hands look nice.

“Is this good?”

“Uhuh … They look perfect, babe.”

Though he can’t see it from his position, Marco smiles. What he can feel is the boy lowering his head to press a kiss to the shoulders and the back of his neck, threatening to make him writhe around from being ticklish.

His eyes remain fixed on his hands, comparing hand sizes in his head, watching how Marco’s smaller hands work around his, with the slender fingers and all. It’s impractical at the moment, but Jean just really wants to hold his hand.

“Good … I’m glad it’s good enough for you. Even if this is just an excuse for us to cuddle again.”

It wasn’t so difficult to see through that. Jean just doesn’t want his boy to be leaving already, wants to hold him hostage for a little longer, for as much time as he can before it’s time to start prepping for the show.

“Maybe. But I can’t help it … I missed you.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere yet, silly.”

Just to be annoying and somewhat childish, Jean peers over his shoulder and pouts, whining.

“You know what I mean.”

Avoiding his gaze just to continue the teasing, Marco adjusts to look over the other shoulder, starting in on the second hand while the first one starts drying off.

“I’ll drag you back to my apartment after the show tonight and make you cook us dinner. Then we can cuddle and watch movies. Deal?”

They haven’t even been dating for that long and Marco already knows exactly how to craft a perfect evening for them together. It’s enough to make Jean feel his stomach do flips, full of adoration for this ray of sunshine that’s fallen into his lap.

“Deal. What are you craving? I’ll make you anything you want, as long as I know how.”

From behind, Jean can hear Marco humming in thought, cycling through different options in his head. Thanks to some culinary prowess, there’s a good amount of meals to choose from.

“I’ll decide later. It’s too early. We haven’t even eaten breakfast or lunch yet.”

Both of them were so preoccupied with cuddling that their stomachs weren’t even a concern. Now, as the day grows later and hours pass, hunger is beginning to eat away at their thoughts.

“Good point … When these dry, I’ll cook you lunch. Something easy … Grilled cheese sound okay?”

Somewhat more of a childish choice but it’s comforting and quick, not to mention reliable and delicious. It’s easy to share, so they can have something of a mini-date.

“God, that sounds good … I’m starving.”

Jean blushes, feeling a little guilty for keeping them from eating for so long, even if for a good cause.

“Sorry about that … Lost track of time.”

Finishing off the second hand, Marco puts the cap back on the container and sets it aside before full-on clinging to his boyfriend. Squeezing him into a giant embrace while still avoiding the nails.

“I wish your kisses filled me as much as your cooking does … I’d never have to eat.”

After hearing such a sweet comment, Jean desperately wishes he could have more freedom with his hands, freedom to squeeze back and show him all the affection in the world. Instead, he laughs and leans his head back against the other’s body, getting as close as humanly possible.

“You’re cheesy … But really /fucking/ adorable. Maybe I just haven’t kissed you enough … Maybe that’s why it’s not working yet.”

Unable to resist, the two come together, nuzzling noses and foreheads together. Attached at the hip, practically, staying away is far too difficult.

“And you’re calling me cheesy?”

“Just kiss me.” Needy, and utterly attached.

Marco indulges him, initiating what feels like their millionth kiss since the previous night. Taking it slow and soft, their mouths moving together. They stay like this for a good moment before pulling away and smiling right against the other.

“Alright … No moving, okay? Stay here.”

Watching his boyfriend push off the bed and start heading off into the kitchen, Jean frowns.

“Why? Baby … What are you planning?”

“Getting the kitchen ready for you. Stay still and let your hands dry off before you come join.”

Jean is so impatient that he rushes to the bathroom to use his hair dryer to speed up the process. Blowing on his nails as a final touch, he makes his way into the kitchen and gets to work immediately, assembling the ingredients, the bread and the cheese laid onto the pan.

Just as he’s done twice before, Marco finds his place right behind him. Holding his waist and resting his head on the shoulder as the grilled cheeses are tended to. This time, they’re silent, allowing for all the focus to go into making the best damn casual lunch he’s ever crafted.

When he’s done, the meal is slid onto a plate and set on the table, where the both of them sit together and finally fill their stomachs.

They behave like a high school couple, or at least Jean does … Kicking lightly at Marco’s feet as he bites into the sandwich, laughing to himself whenever his lover blushes or pouts, unwilling to tell the blonde to knock it off.

Upon finishing, Marco sighs. Reluctantly, he stands. Cupping Jean by the face, leaving the boy flustered and blushing by the touch, he looks into those eyes and smiles.

In return, Jean gazes at him and can’t stop thinking about how pretty his boyfriend is, and how he can’t believe that his number one fan is so gorgeous.

“I’ve gotta go … Have some things I have to take care of before the show tonight. Are you going to be okay if I leave you alone for a few hours?”

Leaning to the side, kisses are pressed to the inside of Marco’s hands, knowing that these are the last bouts of affection he can bestow onto this boy until they’re back together again properly after the show is finished. Feels like an eternity from now.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll survive, even if it’s hard.”

A soft laugh and Marco pulls away, his hands slipping away from flushed cheeks as he makes his way towards the door.

“I’ll see you soon … Make yourself so pretty for me, won’t you? I can't wait to see you.”

“Promise … I will.”

They share one last smile before Marco disappears and there’s a sound of a door opening and closing gently.

Cleaning up the plate, there’s nothing left to do except finish getting dressed and then head out for one final band rehearsal right before the show. The time between that can be spent lounging and preparing himself (and likely texting Marco).

He goes for a black t-shirt top, the same color he was wearing during the gig where his boyfriend initially came into his life. Not to mention, it shows off his arms beautifully while he’s digging in deep on his bass … All the things people love, the veins popping out, his muscles flexing. These nights are when working out semi-regularly really starts to pay off. Going for the monochromatic look, it’s paired with black pants that will also make his eye look and his painted fingernails, making him look sleek and seductive.

Though he misses his signature turtleneck, Jean knows damn well that in the mid-summer hear, he’ll be working up a good sweat, even after the blazing sun goes down for the evening.

Checking himself out in the mirror makes things feel complete, and makes him feel so good about his appearance. All that’s left to add are the sturdy combat boots he dons upon the stage.

Going for that sexy rockstar look that Marco seemed to admire so much. Possibly, he leans harder into it tonight solely to make him swoon.

Without spoiling the surprise with a picture, Jean shoots him a text: “You’re gonna love my outfit … Try not to pounce when you see me.”

Within minutes, receives a response.
“No promises, pretty boy.”

That nickname flusters him so badly he spends the remaining time he has before leaving just laying on top of his bedsheets thinking about it and how badly he wants to be called it again.

It distracts him so much he’s almost late.

He shows up twenty minutes before they’re meant to go on and heads backstage to group up with everyone else. Sasha and Connie stand beside each other on the side, and they’re accompanied by a third, one that wouldn’t be expected.

“Marco? Shouldn’t you be in the crowd?”

“I wanted to be here when you guys went on.”

The boy has become the irreplaceable fourth member of the group easily, earning himself a backstage pass for every show they perform. That’s something that makes Jean smile, eyes focused on his boyfriend, perhaps for a suspiciously long amount of time.

“You’d get pretty good seats over here, but … Nothing like being in the crowd for a show like this.”

“You really wanna get rid of me, don’t you?”

Teasing, Marco’s tone is lightheaded and funny. It’s torture not being to just push him up against a wall and make him shut up with a kiss for being so damn attractive when he’s snarking off.

“Never, Mar. Don’t make me sound so evil in front of the band … They’ll get a worse impression of me than they already do.”

“Now, you’re making us sound evil.”

Turning to Sasha, Jean can’t help but cup her cheek affectionately, never able to suppress the sweet spot he has for his best friend.

“You could never be evil,” Though, continuing his joking, he gestures to Connie and laughs. “This little shit could be, though. Better be careful.”

In response, Connie just snorts and drags everyone in for a huddle, arms sliding around waists in the commotion. Jean finds comfort in the fact that he can feel Marco’s familiar waist underneath his fingertips, squeezing him and pulling him in closer. All four heads are pressed together like they’re a bunch of football players getting ready for the Super Bowl.

That’s how special tonight is.

“First big break, yeah? We’ve never had a chance like this … We’re gonna crush it out there, and everyone’s gonna notice and we’ll be rich by tomorrow morning.”

High ambitions and Jean’s expectations are a little more realistic, but nothing pumps him up quite like Connie’s little motivational pep talks.

He smiles, squeezing his boyfriend’s waist even tighter and rubbing his fingers into it, massaging. Releasing some of his pent-up energy.

It’s his moment to get sappy.
“I love you guys. So fucking much.”

They can hear the loud crowd waiting for them in the venue, the groups that came out together for a good show, alcohol in hand to loosen up and enjoy themselves. Can hear the cheering, the conversations, the laughing … For once, it’s all for them, nobody else here to share it with.

Only them. It feels insanely good.

“Aw … Kirstein’s getting all soft on us.”

“Don’t make me take it back, Connie.”

Sasha leans closer and gives him a little peck on the forehead, never able to cease their beautiful dynamic, like the two closest siblings in the entire world.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Another laugh and he glances over to Marco. Smiling wide, his body feels like it’s pumped full of pure adrenaline.

“Nah, I wouldn’t.”

Slowly, when the crowd seems to be getting antsier as the start time approaches, the band untangles from each other and stands beside each other. Exchanging collective breaths of preparation, they all break off to assemble their equipment, peeling precious instruments out of cases.

Strings prepped, everything good.
No chance for disaster tonight. Just the way Jean likes it … Smooth sailing, and only full of opportunities to impress the people of this city.

Marco approaches as he’s feeling over his bass, fingertips smoothing over the body, feeling the strings and the healthy tension within them. When the latter sees the other coming over, he sets his bass aside temporarily, not wanting it in the way.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I could lift a burning car off a family. Are you feeling this, too?”

They share enthusiastic (but gentle) laughter.
“Maybe not as intensely, but … Absolutely.”

Hearing that makes Jean feel like he must be going insane, some crazy guy that’s getting a high from being around a concert venue. Though Marco is another performer, he’s different … He’s calm, he’s in it for a genuine love of the music. The crowds don’t take as much precedent as they do for Jean.

And yet, he’s right here. Right here to support him, to see the way his boyfriend shows off even though his outlet for music was just recently stripped away from him. The wound must still be fresh, but he’s still here. Being his biggest supporter.

That’s a thing he appreciates … Finds it sweet.

Feeling ridiculously sappy, he smiles his giddiest smile, completely smitten.
“Good. You better.”

The crowd outside grows louder, chanting. Beckoning them onto the stage, demanding with no further patience that they come out and give them the best damn show of their lives.

Marco notices. He looks back over his shoulder, towards the source of the racket. When his gaze comes back, he’s smiling again, tilting his head back.

“You should probably get going. Wouldn’t wanna disappoint the fans, would you?”

“No … I don’t want to kill my career before it even really starts.”

That earns a nod and a coy expression. The other laughs as he deliberates on his next move as if he’s thinking of something inappropriate.

“Can’t be a sexy rockstar without your adoring fans. Even with the pretty eyeliner.”

All these compliments are wearing Jean down, making him get all flustered and blushy even five feet away from his bandmates. Getting called sexy by the prettiest boy he’s ever laid eyes on right before the biggest show of his life is a blessing and a curse.

He’s just gonna be thinking about kissing him the entire time he’s playing. Not that it’s a bad thing.

“Quit it … You’re killing me.”

Gaining a confident (and uncharacteristically mischievous) expression, Marco reaches out and grabs Jean before he even has time to react. Tugged by the sleeve, they disappear behind one of the curtains, hidden out of sight.

Stunned at the ever-growing boldness that his boyfriend gains with every passing day, Jean needs a moment to process everything before he’s capable of speaking again.

“Hey, c’mon … What are you doing?”

He’s silenced with a kiss, hands grabbing at the top of his t-shirt and pulling him down to meet the shorter height, a surprisingly possessive move that Jean can’t help but melt at.

Awkwardly, his hands freeze, too overcome by the sudden affection to find their proper place. The way this boy renders him an embarrassing mess is insane.

Pulling away, Marco stays close. Pressing one more kiss to the corner of his mouth for good measure. To Jean, it feels like a good luck charm.

“I couldn’t wait. Forgive me, okay?”

“Could never be mad at something like that.”

His hands finally find their comfortable position, holding his boyfriend by the waist, bodies tucked perfectly away behind the curtain, surrounded by a wall offering further protection.

Marco wraps his arms around Jean’s neck, keeping them pressed close.

“You look handsome. Knew I’d love your outfit.”

This boy … He’s always been sweet, but all this affection is even more than normal. Not that he’s complaining one bit; Jean adores this.

“You’re really cute today … You know that?”

At the very least, Jean feels compensated for his blushing when an identical one invades Marco’s face, turning him a peachy red that just makes him look even sweeter.

“It’s a big day. I’m excited.”

Their eye contact is strong, soft, romantic eyes gazing at each other, losing themselves in the atmosphere, briefly forgetting exactly where the hell they are and what’s about to happen.

Reality comes back when Sasha calls out.
“Hey, Jean?”

Instantly pouting, he looks at Marco and frowns. Unwilling to part already, wanting to spend all the time in the world together.

He receives the encouragement he needs.
“Go. Don’t make them wait, I’ll be here.”

Regaining his enthusiasm, adrenaline returning to his system, and getting him motivated, Jean quickly smiles before pressing a kiss to Marco’s forehead, the last act of affection he can engage in before he comes out of hiding and rejoins the band.

Sasha has her suspicions, it’s clear on her face.
“Where were you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Are we ready?”

“Damn right we are,” Connie cuts in, twirling his drumsticks around his fingers, his energy taking over.

Grabbing his bass again, Jean takes a deep breath. Thinking about the boy behind the curtain, the one that’s gonna be cheering for him in the crowd. As much as he wants to spend the entire show staring directly at him, making all the eye contact possible, Jean knows that isn’t good showmanship.

He can’t play favorites.

Besides, Marco will be all his afterward. All these other people will go home to their apartments and their boyfriends and girlfriends, and he’s the lucky one who gets to spend hours cuddled up to the best person in the entire world.

Thinking about it puts a massive smile on his face as he takes the initiative, finally stepping onto the stage with the other two. They’re all met with an immediate reaction, earsplitting cheers and whistles, the most eager crowd they’ve ever seen. For such a spontaneous event, the band has managed to draw quite a crowd.

Some marketing team the venue has.

They take their usual places, and Sasha commands the microphone like no other. Standing up to it like it was made for her, like all these people are here to see her and her /only/.

Being her best friend makes Jean proud. As much as he likes to compete with her and playfully steal the spotlight, he doesn’t think anyone deserves this more than she does.

As she’s introducing the band and giving a rundown on how this happened and what’s on the menu for the rest of the night, he scans the crowd. Through the young faces of the city’s twenty-somethings, Jean desperately searches for Marco. He’s naive enough to believe a spotlight will come on and shine directly onto him, a beacon showing exactly where his boyfriend is stationed.

It takes what feels like ages, but it eventually happens. Towards the front of the crowd, his handsome boy, dressed in his usual flannel shirt, stands between some strangers, the sweetest smile on his face as he stands ready.

Feeling flirty, Jean sends a wave and a wink in his direction, though, with the close proximity, someone else mistakes those flirtations as being intended for them. The girl standing beside Marco screams and cheers, blowing a kiss right back.

At the very least, the boy has a good sense of humor about it. Even from the distance, it’s obvious he’s still happy and laughing about it as he sends a gentle wave right back.

He’s so focused that when it’s time to start playing, it’s almost like he’s still entranced. Whipped.

Still, he can feel Sasha’s gaze, and that’s enough to snap him out of his lovesick puppy daydreaming, getting a better handle on his bass as he gives their lead the signal to start everything off.

Connie taps them off, and they get started.

The energy is even better than in their last show.

Jean feels like showing off, putting on a beautiful display for not only his boyfriend but the other hundreds of people that have gathered here to have a good time in this local venue.

He’s blowing through their set list like they’ve been practicing it for months rather than a simple week, playing his parts with such finesse and such style, all motivated by the prospect of a flourishing career.

Everything they’ve worked their asses off for feels like it’s finally coming to fruition.

As his fingers work their hardest, attacking the strings with just the right amount of aggression, veering away from breaking another one while still making his presence more than known.

Nothing feels better than this. Working up a sweat, going half-deaf from the screams, the crowd singing along to their well-tuned setlist. It’s a well-balanced selection, and their choices are playing out well.

When the last song comes around, Jean ramps himself up even higher. Walking around the front of the stage, approaching the first row of the crowd, close to the barricade keeping people from jumping upstage. He gives them a show, leaning in, the muscles in his arms flexing at the exertion, just as he was hoping for. He can feel his hair getting messier as he plays, little pieces coming out of his hairstyle, coming undone from the band keeping it tied back.

His smile is huge. Looking throughout the crowd, making eye contact with their fans, and naturally, he tries engaging with Marco again, wanting to see him one last time during this final song. Finishing strong.

However, when he looks at the spot where his boyfriend originally stood … He’s no longer there.

Jean has to make a good effort not to falter at the last minute, distracted by the sudden disappearance. Where was he? He wouldn’t go off to the bathroom or to get a drink during their set … He’d wanna stay for the entire show, that’s just the kind of person Marco Bodt is. Seeing him gone makes Jean worry … He’s confident he wouldn’t just leave if nothing was wrong, so his mind fills with anxieties. Was he not feeling good? Were people pushing him around or bothering him? Did something come up where he had to leave?

Up on that stage, he tries to finish strong while his mind wanders to thoughts of going up to Marco’s apartment after and cuddling and comforting him through whatever caused him to leave. Nursing him back to health if he doesn’t feel good, petting his hair, and giving sweet kisses if something’s upsetting him. Giving a safe place there in his arms.

It’s a miracle he’s able to keep playing. Muscle memory saves him as his thoughts drift. His new good luck charm might be becoming his biggest distraction, but that’s nothing he sees as a bad thing.

Jean does his best not to overthink and worry.
Maybe Marco just moved spots?

He focuses back on the show by looking over at Sasha and Connie, watching them as they reach the climax and go into the energetic end. It helps to see their smiles, their enthusiastic expressions. Disappointing them is the last thing he wants.

Centering himself, he delivers a powerful finish. The three of them together give the performance of a lifetime. Loud, entertaining, captivating.

Just what they needed.

By the end, Jean lets his last note ring out, letting it live out its brief life in all its glory. Letting it breathe and fill up the venue space. He smiles as the crowd cheers even louder … Clearly impressed.

Suddenly winded by the effort he forced into his playing and showmanship, and not to mention overwhelmed by the audience's reaction, he takes a moment to squat down, resting for just a moment as he processes everything. Unable to stop grinning.

His head falls back, eyes closing as he takes it all in, breathing in and out, trying to recover. Smiling.

The last thing he expects to hear is Sasha’s voice coming over the microphone to give another announcement rather than some parting words.

“We’ve got one more song for you guys … And we’re bringing out a special guest to help us.”

That gets Jean’s attention quickly. His head snaps back down as he slowly stands up, gazing over the stage and looking for any clue on what’s going on.

What the hell was this all about? They’ve already played all the songs they rehearsed together. And what’s this about a special guest? Isn’t this something that they should’ve talked about before the show? He’s panicking, struggling to keep his cool, solely because he doesn’t want to look like an idiot for the crowd during their last song.

All this overthinking takes over him, and he’s so distracted he doesn’t even notice their special guest is joining them until the crowd starts screaming and cheering even louder.

One glance over towards the side of the stage tells him exactly who their guest is. His hands immediately go into his hair, compulsively running through it as his jaw drops and a goofy, giddy smile comes over his features.

Marco comes walking onto the stage, explaining his disappearance and relieving Jean of all his anxieties within seconds.

Better yet, he’s got a guitar of his own strapped around his neck, no longer borrowing Sasha’s. It must have been a recent purchase … No such guitar existed during any of their latest practice sessions, and Jean can’t help but imagine that it was Sasha that helped him pick something out. Marco’s guitar isn’t flashy or obnoxious; it’s a light cream color, subtle and soft, just like its owner. The perfect gentle color.

That explains the presence of a second microphone stand, slightly off to the side of Sasha’s. He’d noticed it upon entering the stage but hadn’t paid it any mind … Wasn’t something worth dwelling on.

When his boyfriend steps up to his microphone, he looks to his right and makes direct eye contact with Jean, and it’s enough to make the latter feel like he’s melting inside. Marco smiles and it looks like the sweetest sunshine … Jean can see just how happy he is to be performing again, likely even happier to be sharing the stage with the people he’s been spending so much time around. The people that see him as Marco Bodt, not as just a voice. So much more than that.

Marco looks back at the crowd to address them.
“Hi … If you don’t know me, I’m Marco … These are my best friends, and they were nice enough to let me join for one last song. I hope you like it.”

Sweet, and humble as ever. Jean knows they’ll like it. Anyone who isn’t as in love with Marco as he is after hearing his voice is a complete idiot.

“You’ll have to forgive Jean, over there on bass … He didn’t know anything about this … We wanted to surprise him.”

Being addressed directly flusters Jean. Still, he appreciates that the audience has been forewarned about the potential of a more … Lackluster bass performance this time around.

With a look over to Sasha, he nods. Signaling he’s ready to start. That leaves Jean feeling frantic … Some warning would’ve been nice, but the effect of being caught off guard … Nothing beats that.

He’ll just have to follow along. It shouldn’t be that difficult to create a simple enough bassline. Besides, this isn’t a song he’ll want to be flashy for. This is all Marco’s show, now. He wants all the hundreds of pairs of eyes and ears in this venue to be focused completely on that beautiful boy.

Sasha starts everything off, beginning a cover of Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. In his head, Jean gives his immediate approval. It’s the perfect song for these two, not too harsh for Marco and not too soft to stifle Sasha as a powerhouse. A duet … Showcasing both of them. When had they gotten together to practice this?

Watching and listening, Jean waits … Waits through the opening line … Waits for Marco’s entrance, for his back and forth with Sasha.

When it comes, he melts even further.

“So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear.”

It’s been too damn long since he’s gotten to hear this perfect voice. Somehow, all these weeks later, it’s gotten even better … Hearing it with his changed perspective, his new … appreciation for the boy … God, it feels like he’s ascending. Nobody has ever made him so dramatic about things before.

He tries his best to stay focused, offering the occasional helpful note to keep himself engaged. Truthfully, he’s much too distracted, eyes fixated on Marco’s face as he sings, taking note of all his features. Paying closer attention than he did the first time … now that he isn’t trying to convince himself he doesn’t want to walk over and kiss him a thousand times.

The music picks up, and that’s when Marco joins Sasha as a supporting guitar, putting his lessons to the test. Jean stays fixated on his hands, watching exactly what he’s playing … and he can’t help but grin widely, showing off all his pride. The rhythm isn’t anything super complicated, but he’s playing with more confidence than he’s ever seen Marco possess during their time playing together. He can’t see any hesitation, doesn’t hear any nervous shaking coming from his voice … It’s all free and happy like he’s been playing for months.

Just as predicted … The audience loves him maybe even more than they did during that combined show. People look at him adoringly, their eyes latched on him. Normally, Jean might be jealous of all these strangers gawking at his boyfriend, but right now, it doesn’t bother him at all.

No one deserves this more than Marco.

Jean can’t wipe this happy expression off his face as he watches his sweetheart and Sasha interacting, facing each other, playing together, their duet coming along perfectly. They look so happy alongside one another … Like this is how it was always meant to be … In one band, together. Helping the other succeed, not in indirect competition from separate bands.

Watching gets the bassist … Overwhelmed. Emotional, probably the most emotional he’s ever been in recent history. Has he ever felt this proud of someone, so happy to be so close to another human being before? Eventually, these feelings get so powerful that his fingers lose their ability to follow along, to stay concentrated. As the song starts to approach its ending, Jean feels like spending the effort to contribute his part is only taking away from the experience.

He wants to give this moment his full, undivided attention.

To achieve that, his playing ceases. For the first time during a gig, Jean takes off his bass and rests it against the nearest spot he can while making sure it won’t get hurt.

He stands there in total awe … Hands returning to his hair, just observing with all the joy in the world. It’s even enough to make him start tearing up … Just the thought that they’d go so far to plan such a surprise for him, knowing how important it would be to see Marco playing onstage with them like this … The bonus of seeing his boyfriend playing the instrument he taught him makes everything better.

The crowd gets louder as they get to the end of the song, maintaining all the energy needed … Until they reach the slow, peaceful closer, allowing their beautiful voices to finish the job.

“Though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.”

Guitars ring out, and the cheers explode. Hundreds of people, cheering for Marco … For that gorgeous, incredible boy and all the beautiful things he does.

Within seconds, Marco is looking over at him. Smiling wide, his face visibly flushed and red from all this forgotten attention, and possibly … For other reasons. They can’t stay apart much longer, not after all of that.

And, at this point, staying private and hiding behind closed doors and large curtains sounds trivial.

Hands come out of his hair, and his feet develop a mind of their own, crossing the stage to meet his boyfriend halfway. On the opposite side, Marco carefully takes off his guitar and passes it off to Sasha.

He comes towards him with more spring in his step. It feels like a scene out of a romance movie, the two leads reuniting across a beach, sprinting into each other’s arms again.

In one fluid motion, Jean reaches at the right moment, grabbing hold of the backs of Marco’s thighs, lifting him off the ground and safely into his hold, keeping him suspended as their faces come closer.

There’s no more than a brief pause before their mouths come together in the single most passionate kiss they’ve shared yet. Marco’s arms wrap firmly around his neck, and Jean can feel those precious fingers sliding back to undo his hair tie, letting those blonde locks free just so he has the space to run his fingers through it.

It feels euphoric. Tasting him, feeling his enthusiastic smile against his lips. Feeling the energy between them, the adrenaline rush. They’re close enough to feel the other’s heartbeat, and how they’re both going about a million beats faster than they ought to be.

The whole world knows they’re together now. Or, at the very least, the people here in this venue, the people of this city … Their best friends … No more pretending, no more hiding. All of that is pointless, and, in hindsight, he realizes it always was.

Taking a breath, Jean makes a request.
“Hold me tight.” It’s barely a second before he’s going back in for the kiss again as he feels Marco’s legs tightening around his waist, securing the hold and allowing his arms to be free.

They find their place wrapped around his back, embracing him tenderly, one wrapped for security while the other massages into his shirt with a flat palm, making him feel reassured … Like they’re back in bed cuddling again, making each other cozy and comfortable.

Ten years wouldn’t even be long enough to share this kiss and have it feel like it’s complete. If it were up to Jean, they’d stay like this forever … Mouths in perfect alignment, just frozen in time as the crowd behind them cheers them on, their loudest cheers yet.

Still, it has to come to an end … Marco is the one brave enough to separate, and he does so with obvious hesitation. The boy must feel so guilty, he moves his lips straight from Jean’s mouth to his forehead, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the skin there, treating him with the kindest touch.

They stay there and get even closer, cuddling close. Smiling, though it’s not visible. Their faces are buried in the other, hidden from view … No longer giving the crowd all access to their emotions.

“I am .. /so/ in love with you, Mar.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll say it a million times, I promise, I will … Just hold me.”

Through the muffled sounds that come from trying to talk into fabric, Jean can tell that Marco is starting to tear up as well. Overwhelmed, just like he was.

Following his request is the easiest thing he’s ever done. No hesitation, no overthinking. Easy.

“I’m not letting you go. Not until I have to.”

“I really hope you never have to.”

It’s a miracle they can even hear each other. The crowd became deafening the moment that news of their relationship came to light. Even still, neither of them let that take away from the intimate moment.

Nothing ever could.