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Dysphoria Hurts

Summary:

Sometimes, all you can do is just face the fact that you've made a mistake.

Notes:

This was a drabble prompt given to me by an anon in which the prompt was "Marco Trying to Help Jean with his Dysphoria".

Work Text:

"Shit shit shit", Marco squeezed his eyes shut as he banged his fist once more onto the cold wood of the bathroom door. The lock stayed steady in place, as if it was mocking him with it’s cold metal clasps.

"Jean, Jean I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it — fuck." Marco sighed into the coldness of the morning, sliding his hot palms over his face, sighing in defeat.

He knew Jean wouldn’t come out, lest, not until he was ready. Until the anger had been bitten out of him after time, until the sadness sunk into his bones. When the sadness came, then he’d be ready for Marco to hold him and kiss him and love him, but for now? Now, he wanted nothing to do with the older man.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Marco slowly shuffled away from the door, making his way to the living room and clicking on the tv. Pausing to stare at the couch, he sighed.

He sat for a moment, shivering in just his boxers, as the blue light from the television washed over him in soft waves. He closed his eyes, settling into the folds of the couch. He fell asleep, knowing Jean would come and get him when he was ready.

Waking up to something cold seeping against his collar bone, Marco groggily opened his eyes.

The soft grey from the window told him it was very early in the morning, probably about four.

Yawning slightly he looked down to see Jean, curled onto Marcos lap, his arms like a snuggly octopus holding onto the larger man for dear life. Marco sighed, a small smile on his lips as he noticed Jean had been drooling on him.

After a few moments Jean stirred, crinkling his nose, he quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to get rid of the spit forming down his chin. He mumbled something, face blushing lightly.

"Wanna talk about it?" Marco asked softly, tracing his thumb over Jeans lips, leaning in to kiss the other man.

"No." Jean mumbled into the kiss, stretching his arms ahead of him. He kicked his legs lightly into Marcos own.

"Want me to make chocolate chip banana pancakes?" The freckled man hummed.

Jean, still having the gall to pout, nodded sleepily before he gave Marco a quick kiss on the side of his face. Grabbing a throw blanket that was crinkled over the couch, he snuggled into it, kicking Marco off the couch with a soft snicker.

Marco chuckled, getting up to prepare them their early morning breakfast.

As he was ladling the sweetened batter on the griddle, he heard a small sniffle from the couch.

Peering over the kitchen divider he saw Jean, his tuff of hair poking out of the blanket.

“‘M sorry…” The blond mumbled, sniffling again.

Marco swallowed, shaking his head as he walked quickly over his boyfriend, squatting down before him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, you ass." Marco huffed, kissing Jean on the top of his head. Jean preened only slightly, still trying to retain the pout on his chapped lips.

"After pancakes, you wanna’ go on that hike you and Hanji were talking about — the one near the two waterfalls?" Jean rubbed his slightly snotty nose — the tell tale signs of his crying the night before.

Marco nodded, his eyes sparkling enthusiastically at the mention of the great outdoors.

"Sure, and then I’ll rub your feet and kiss all your ouchies after." Marco teased, earning a swat in the face with a couch cushion.

Falling backward onto the hardwood floor, Marco couldn’t contain his giggles that immediately turned into full on gross laughter as Jean flung himself from atop the couch to land on Marco, their legs curling and flailing against one another as they both tried to tickle the crap out of the other till they both gave out due to lack of air.

The pancakes were burned to a blackened crisp by the time they controlled themselves, but the two didn’t seem to mind, not one bit.