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“Man,” Jean pouts, sinking further into the passenger seat of Marco’s car. “You didn’t have to, like, totally evacuate.”
Marco raises an eyebrow, eyes trained on the road.
“I wouldn’t have kicked Jaeger’s ass that bad.”
Marco snorts. He wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead; it’s hot even at 3 am during the summer. His other wrist rests casually on the steering wheel, keeping the car somewhat on course.
“I mean, come on,” Jean says, taking a deep swig from his Coke bottle that is most certainly not filled with Coke. The smell of fruit and liquor hits Marco’s nose. “He was trashed, I was… moderately less trashed, he was talking some shit… it was perfect, man.”
“Mhm.”
“I would have smashed his face against all the tables in that place.”
“And that is exactly why we abandoned ship,” Marco says amusedly. “I don’t think Connie would appreciate having to see imprints of Eren’s face in all of his tables.”
Jean shudders. “Fuck, man. What a nightmare.”
Marco rubs at an eye. He doesn’t want to be tired, especially not driving. But it is definitely past three o’clock in the damn morning, and he’s just spent what felt like hours listening to Jean and Eren scream at each other.
“Yo, fuck you, maggot dick!”
“Shut your tits, horse ass face!”
“Get fucked, Jaeger!”
“Do it yourself, fucking faggot!”
Armin visibly winces and puts an arm on Eren’s shoulder, simultaneously calming and steadying a rapidly tottering Jaeger. “Eren…”
“Shit, man, I—”
Marco takes this opportunity to whisper in Jean’s ear. “Let’s go, dude.”
Marco’s glad he’d used the distraction. Shit was about to get ugly. He absolutely would not put it past Jean to grab Eren by the shaggy hair and literally smash his face into everything he could find. Their powers combined, they tended to leave a lot of bloodstains everywhere they went.
Jean had been talking; Marco feels bad, but he hadn’t been listening. “—and how dare he fucking spew that hate shit, especially around Armin, but Armin probably knows Eren doesn’t mean it like that, I mean fuck that guy but he doesn’t, like, hate gay people—”
Ah. Nothing too important, then. Jean finally takes a second to breathe long enough to take another deep pull of whatever hideous shit he’d mixed in that bottle on the way out. Marco winces a little at the smell.
“Hey, Marco.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for, uh. Takin’ me home.”
Marco smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Jean, there’s no way I’d let you drive. You know that. That’s why I brought my car too.”
“Mm,” Jean agrees, settling even deeper in the seat.
They sit comfortably in the car, driving down the deserted highway back toward Jean’s neighborhood. The radio’s been playing some catchy nonsense for a while now; no commercials, at least. No one to sell to at this hour. The windows are rolled down, and the incoming breeze almost offers a respite from the heat, but it brings with it the almost sickening humidity. Everything is sticky. Everything.
“Hey, Marco.”
“Yeah?”
“You… uh.” Jean pauses for a while. “What do you think of Armin?”
“What? Dude, come on. We’ve all known each other since we were like ten, and we’re all about to go to the same university. You know what I think of Armin.”
“No, no, not like Armin Armin.”
“Do you mean what do I think of him being gay?”
Jean blushes, even around his booze flush. “Yeah.”
“Why should I care?”
“Yeah?”
“Jean, we’ve had this conversation.” Marco runs his free hand through his hair, settling his wrist back on top of the steering wheel as they turn onto the long, narrow bridge over some marshy lake thing. “Why are you asking me now?"
Jean is silent. He’s silent for a while, watching the moon glint on the swampy water stretching to the horizon. The water’s always low this time of year, for some reason.
“Hey, Marco?”
“Mm.”
“I, uh.”
“Mm?” Marco tries to sound encouraging, and not exasperated.
“IthinkIfuckinglikeyou,” Jean mumbles, shaking hands moving to uncap his fruity mess again. “ShitImeanwelluhh—”
“… What?”
“Seriously, dude?”
“Yeah.”
Jean sighs. “I said, I think I fucking like you. Oh my god.” He takes a deep pull from the drink. Or he tries to, at least, before Marco takes it and chucks it out the window. Jean looks almost scandalized. “Littering, though?”
Marco slows the car and pulls into a fishing dock off to the side of the bridge. He rolls the windows up, too.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and Jean wonders just how fucked he actually is. Gold eyes nervously watch Marco turn in his seat, fully facing Jean. “What?” he asks, dark eyes staring intently.
“Marco, man, come on. I didn’t say anything.”
“How drunk are you?”
“Now? Not very.”
“How drunk were you five minutes ago?”
“Uhh,” Jean says, trying really hard to shrink into his corner. “A little.”
“Then I’m gonna need you to say it again.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Marco, you’re a sadist, I swear to god.”
“Jean,” Marco murmurs. His expression softens. “I just… please?”
Jean stares at Marco, dangerously nearing stone sober now. It’s harder now, even to initiate the words. “I think. Uh. I think I like you, man. I’m sorry. Listen, we’ll peg it on the booze. It’s fine. I’ll go back to my little faggot world and everything’ll be—”
Kosher, he tries to finish, but it’s a little hard when Marco’s kissing him like this.
Wait, what?
Jean stares, wide-eyed, but all he can see is some freckles immediately in front of his face.
Marco pulls back to suck in a breath, dark eyes meeting Jean’s and holding his gaze. His face widens into a grin, cheeks flushing a little. “Here, I’ll say it too. Jean, I like you.”
Jean grins brightly and wraps his arms around Marco’s shoulders. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you, man.”
“Shut up,” Marco laughs, leaning forward again to press his lips against Jean’s. He shifts so he’s not quite being gored by the parking brake, then tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Jean’s lips are crazy soft, he notes, his hands coming down to pop his friend’s seatbelt, then rest on his thighs. Those soft lips also taste remarkably like peach schnapps, and it kind of makes Marco’s head spin.
He edges closer, almost sitting on his cupholders in the middle in his attempt to get closer to Jean. Jean shifts in his seat too, trying to turn toward Marco. He leans against the car door and runs his fingers through soft black hair, sighing against Marco’s lips. The brunette’s hands on Jean’s thighs tighten their grip, and he runs his tongue along his friend’s lower lip. Those fruity-tasting lips part almost instantly, and he takes complete advantage of the fact, lazily twining their tongues together. Jean makes a soft sound, scratching his nails along the back of Marco’s neck.
“Mmm, hey, Jean…”
“What?” Jean kisses along Marco’s cheek, eyes half-closed.
“Why’d you ask about Armin?”
“Uhh, ‘cause he’s got the gay?”
“Ew, don’t phrase it like that,” Marco chides, nipping playfully at Jean’s lower lip. “It’s mean and weird. But I still don’t know why you asked.”
Jean sighs and stares at Marco. “Are you dense, man? Armin feels the gay feels. I clearly also feel the gay feels. If you think Armin’s gay feels are gross, you probably wouldn’t like mine either.”
Marco stares at Jean for a long moment before laughing. “I think you’re weird,” he chuckles, trying again to move closer. Damn cars, not being made for making out. Still, he presses his lips against Jean’s again, sliding his tongue back into the other’s mouth.
They kiss for a while, Jean shifting so his legs are on either side of Marco. They both run their hands over each other; Jean runs his hands through Marco’s hair, over his shoulders and back, squeezing his upper arms, just generally mapping out how his friend feels when he’s this close to him.
Marco laughs and pulls away again, licking his lips as he gives Jean a heated glance. “You know, I think I’m feeling your gay feels.”
Jean laughs, sinking down in his seat and turning a little red. “You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”
“Yeah, man, I got you,” Marco grins, moving back into kissing. They kiss for a while, long and slow, tasting and touching and cursing when their limbs start falling asleep. They’re not sure who starts laughing first, but they laugh long and hard and kiss and giggle and fog up the windows of Marco’s car until the sun starts to peek through the cattails in the swamp beneath them.