Chapter Text
Jean knew he was screwed the moment Samuel got fired.
Nobody knew why exactly the Prince Charming of 3 wholesome years was given the boot out the back door, but the sight of him being shouted at by a very angry Levi half-dressed in a Mickey Mouse costume was embarrassing enough for them to avert their eyes and hope the whole thing just disappeared. Samuel vanished, as did the Prince Charming. That meant problems. The park wasn’t ever void of visitors, after all, and people (and most often whiny, noisy brats- Levi’s words) were starting to notice his absence.
“How are they gonna replace him at such short notice?” Jean found himself asking one break. His coffee breaks managed to miraculously coincide with his ‘co-actor’ (he called her ‘partner’ once and he’d regretted it) Christa’s, and she was perched on the small sofa sipping her drink as carefully as she could so as not to get a splash of it on her lilac dress. She was the Rapunzel to his Flynn Rider, and Jean would have been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy that. It was worth the tiring hours of standing around, balancing on parade floats trying desperately not to fall off, and the horse.
Jean didn’t even want to start on the horse.
Christa gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, but I hope they get it sorted soon. It would be such a disappointment to the children if there wasn’t a Prince Charming before the summer holidays break out.”
Jean graced her with a trademark Flynn Rider grin. He’d been perfecting it. “Always thinking about the kids, eh?”
“Well, that and the fact that if they can’t find someone we might get extra hours.”
Jean deflated. Oh. He hadn’t thought of that. And he had wanted a life this summer… if only for a day or two. “I guess they better hurry up and find someone or else we’ll all be in the shit,” he said.
Christa’s nose wrinkled. “Jeeeeean.”
“I know, I know, language, it’s not as if the tykes can hear way back here,” he said, dumping his cup in the sink and moving to lean against the wall.
“BUT I CAN.”
“Wah, shit!” Jean yelped, leaping away from the wall as a long furry snout poked its way around the corner at breakneck speed. He was still twitching when a guttural laugh came from whoever was wearing the Goofy suit, and he gave them a glare. “Do you live to scare me like that, Ymir?”
“Yup!” ‘Goofy’ removed his head to reveal a broadly grinning brunette with freckles dotted across her cheeks. They usually kept to the genders when it came to casting costumed characters, but there had been a considerably small amount of tall men auditioning the year Ymir did, and even though Bertholdt had tried to play Goofy for a few shifts (resulting in more carnage than anyone had ever thought possible thanks to the inexplicable clumsiness of the guy) Ymir won the role. She pretended to hate it, but everyone knew how much she beamed after a Meet and Greet shift.
Jean gave her a wide berth as she sauntered into the break room, making a mental note that he would never get over Goofy swinging his hips like Jessica Rabbit ever. Actually, he thought as she proceeded to throw herself onto the sofa and plant an extremely soppy and over-the-top kiss on Christa’s lips, he would never get over seeing Goofy kissing Rapunzel. That was definitely weirder. Jeez, the things he saw in this job. “What’samatter Flynny Winny, did someone not get laid last weekend?” Ymir asked, planting a few more kisses on Christa’s cheeks whilst her girlfriend complained about her makeup coming off.
Jean’s look soured. “If you must know, I had a date,” he sniffed, folding his arms.
“But did you get laid?”
“We had a nice dinner.”
“Did you get laid though?”
“We had a lot in common and I think we really hit it off.”
“Ugh, you so didn’t get laid. You are an insult to your character and should be ashamed.”
“What, and Goofy gets laid all the time, does he?”
Ymir grinned. “Well, this Goofy does. And she loooves it.” She winked. “Hyyyyyuck.”
“Oh my God, shut up.” Jean clapped his hands to his ears. He really did not want to know the ins and outs of Ymir and Christa’s sex lives, especially not when visualising Ymir as Goofy. No. No. Definitely not. “But… no, we didn’t. She was nice, though.”
“She?” Ymir raised a brow. “It was a she?”
Jean rolled his eyes. Oh God, not this again. He had once let slip that he was little further right on the Kinsey scale than everyone assumed and ever since Ymir wouldn’t rest until she found him a good man to settle down with. It wasn’t like he was ungrateful with her efforts, but telling people you worked at DisneyWorld driving kids out of their tiny little minds with excitement (and possibly giving tweens their sexual awakening with his smoulders) only seemed cute and adorable to girls. Guys tended to just give him the, ‘what are you doing with your life’ look and move right along. But, however shockingly, Jean actually liked his job. Sure, he complained about it, but everyone complains about their jobs. He loved it. And if someone couldn’t love it right on back, then they had a problem, in Jean’s opinion. Still, Ymir’s persistence to find him a man who didn’t care was proving not only fruitless but also endlessly annoying. “Yes, a she. Problem?” he asked, raising a brow. He was pretty sure he was perfecting the ‘Flynn is tired of your shit’ look too.
“No…” Ymir shared a look with Christa, and grinned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ymir, I’m sure.”
“Did you see up her skirt though?”
“Wha-NO!”
Ymir snorted. “Calm your tits, dude, seriously. I’m just messing with you.” Her hand had wandered as she spoke, and it was now playing with the extensions Christa had to pin to her normal hair. She was blessed with the perfect colour hair to play Rapunzel, and Ymir constantly mentioned how soft it was. Jean hadn’t had the pleasure of running his hands through her hair, mainly because he would get promises of murder from a Goofy whenever he attempted it. “Just wanna see my Jeanny boy be happy.”
“Bullshit, you just want me paired off with someone so I’ll stop flirting with Christa,” Jean snorted.
Ymir’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You play a dangerous game, Kirschtein.”
“It’s in character, Ymir,” Christa sighed. “It is literally in Jean’s job description to flirt with me.”
“Well, can’t Tangled have an alternate ending every now and again?”
“Goofy is not going to run off with Rapunzel, Ymir!” Jean said.
“Again,” Christa added with a small giggle.
Jean rolled his eyes. “Yes. Again. Seriously, that was fucking awkward. The kids were pointing.”
“You kissed her,” Ymir pointed out.
“IT WAS IN THE SCRIPT, OH MY GOD.”
“Kirschtein! Reiss!” Another character head popped through the door, and this time the trio froze up. To anyone on the outside, it was probably hilarious to see just how pale Jean got when faced with the cheerful face of Mickey Mouse, but Jean knew the truth. He knew who was hiding under the costume. And that terrified the shit out of him.
“L-Levi, we were just…”
“You were just nothing you shitty little brats, the parade’s starting soon. You and Reiss need to get over to the assembly point right now, and Flash is there waiting.”
Jean grimaced. Ugh. Flash. “Can’t we do one parade without that damn horse?” he asked.
“No,” came Levi’s harsh reply. It was sort of surreal to hear such a harsh voice come out of such a jovial character. “And you, Ymir, get out there and hug the kids or some shit like that, you overgrown weasel.”
“Well, technically…” Ymir began, but blanched as soon as ‘Mickey’ turned on her.
“Technically what?” he snapped. “Please, do enlighten me on your pearls of wisdom.”
“Well… Goofy’s a dog. Not a weasel.”
“Aaaand this is our cue to go,” Jean said, making a beeline for the door and beckoning for Christa to do the same. She was all too happy, patting her girlfriend sympathetically on the shoulder as she darted to Jean’s side, and then they were gone, out of sight before Levi could blow a blood vessel and deafen them with both volume and obscenity.
The good news about the parade was that Flash only bit Jean once. The bad news was that the audience had thought it was staged and now Levi wanted it to be a regular part of the parade. Great, Jean winced as he stood at his meeting point rubbing his stinging shoulder, the first hickey I’ve got in months and it was given to me by a fucking horse. Jaeger better not get wind of this. It was going to bruise. He knew it would. That was just his luck.
“Heeeyy looks like we have ourselves here a naughty ol’ pirate!”
Jean blinked, turning to see none other than Connie fucking Springer skipping down the path. He grinned. He thought things were too quiet around here. “Nice tights Thumbelina,” he remarked.
“I am no Lina of Thumb! I am Peter Pan!” Connie huffed.
“Gesundheit. How are things in Neverland?” he asked, folding his arms.
“Same old, same old. Tink’s being a grouch again.” Ah, Annie. If anyone could portray Tinkerbell’s downright snooty side it would be you. Connie edged closer, his hat almost falling off as he muttered, “You heard about Samuel?”
Jean became more alert, leaning in to whisper his answer. “Yeah, sucks for him, huh? Heard anything about a replacement?”
“They got one. Short notice, but Reiner knew a guy.”
“Reiner?” Jean raised an eyebrow. “He’s been out of Bertholdt’s ass long enough to know someone else?”
Connie gave him a sour look. “Don’t be mean,” he chided, “Reiner seems to think that this guy’s perfect for it. And he was quite nice when I saw him. A bit on the nervous, naïve side but he was nice. Suits Prince Charming down to the ground.” Jean was then assaulted with gold dust that made him sneeze. ‘Pixie dust’. It had been Connie’s idea, and the park had just run with it. Connie was… quite the method actor when it came down to it. He loved throwing it at people at random intervals; Reiner and Bertholdt were his usual victims, mainly because Bertholdt sneezed so badly he’d fall over and Reiner’s costume was too heavy for him to run effectively in it. Reiner had caught Connie once, though, and the sight of Peter Pan begging for mercy from Buzz Lightyear whilst Woody tried to overcome his allergies was quite something to behold.
“You’ve seen the new guy?” Jean found himself slipping between keeping character and breaking out and just outright grabbing Connie and shaking him for the information. “How come I haven’t seen him around?”
“He came in when you were parading around like a show-pony dude, chill out,” Connie complained. “He’s probably meeting some kids or something, like you’re meant to be doing.” He then stepped back, out of the safe zone and right back into character. “Captain Hook, you say? Around here? Why, that smelly old codfish can’t have gone far! I’ll teach him a lesson!” And off he ran, chortling away like a gleeful little pixie.
Jean watched him go with a wistful sigh. He wondered who this new guy was going to be like. If he was a friend of Reiner’s, then ‘grossly inappropriate’ could be pinned down. Perhaps ‘devilishly handsome’- Reiner was nice but he was a shallow soul and liked to hang around with equally buff or gorgeous people. Gay? Jean inwardly smacked himself- if that was even possible- for such a horrible assumption. Reiner can have straight friends, Jean, for God’s sake. It’s unlikely, but…
“Can I have your autograph?”
“Huh?” Jean was snapped out of his thoughts by a beaming nine year old waving a pen in his face. “Oh, sure little princess, what’s your name?”
Cue a giggle fit. Oy.
He was in the middle of signing her book when he heard a so-high-it-should-be-illegal squeal come from the line forming in front of him. He tried not to wince. He failed. But he put on his best grin and looked up. “Hey, what’s the pro-”
Oh.
OH.
Oh, fuck.
He usually shared his space with the ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Prince Charming’ of the park, but since Samuel being let go they had placed ‘Cinderella’ somewhere else. That meant Jean had had the place to himself. But now, she was back, and by her side was…
Well, he didn’t know who he was but damnit was he hot.
He was taller than him, Jean mused, but not as tall as Samuel had been. He was smiling charmingly (heh, puns, Jean’s brain offered) at everyone who caught his eye, but there was no shallowness to it; he looked as though he was genuinely happy to be there, and personally thanking everyone for coming to see him. His hair was dark and swept back in the typical princely fashion, but a whorl at the back remained stuck up stubbornly in its own act of defiance. In fact, he looked so much like the actual Prince Charming it was sort of scary. He held himself in the same way, moved like he did, smiled like he did. Jean suddenly found himself wondering whether or not he had actually just stepped out of a storybook to be there. He noticed the slight freckles on the guy’s cheeks and realised they had tried to cover them up with makeup, and cursed whoever had hidden such fucking adorable little dots from sight. Who cares if Prince Charming didn’t have freckles, hell, I bet he did in one of the stories.
Petra, their ‘Cinderella’, only came up to his shoulder, but the way they laughed and clasped hands gave them more chemistry than she had ever had with Samuel. The smiles they were giving each other Made Jean’s heart thunder in his chest. If only Freckled Charming would look at me like that, he found himself thinking. His eyes widened at his own daring, and a pair of dark eyes met his own.
Only then did he realise he was staring.
“Hi, Flynn!” Petra waved, beaming from ear to ear in her blue gown. “Have you met my husband, Prince Charming?”
Jean just gawped at him. He was cute, so damn cute, and his smile was faltering and he was frowning and why was he frowning?
He was staring.
“Uh…” was all that came out of his mouth dumbly. A few children tittered.
“Flynn?” Petra prompted, a frown appearing on her own face.
Jean cleared his throat and straightened up. Petra was still staring at him as though he was an idiot, her eyes urging him to talk before he officially drifted into the realm of the utter imbecile. He was suddenly struck with an idea. He let a dry smirk wind its way onto his face. He sauntered forward, brows practically wiggling. Had to stay in character. Right. He could do this. He was suave, cool, he made girls giggle for crying out loud. He stopped before the two of them and bowed, eyes catching Freckled Charming’s and only his, and when he straightened up he took in a deep breath. His eyes softened.
“I know not who you are, nor how I came to find you, but may I just say…” He tried out his smoulder. “Hi.”
Freckled Charming blinked once. Twice. “Er…hi?” he said, a little lost. He didn’t look flustered, or impressed, or head over heels. He just looked confused. “S-sorry, are you, uh, referencing something?”
Jean could have died. He wanted to curl up and die, right there and then, with all the freckled angels to guide his stupid fucking ass to heaven. Instead, all he did was go bright red and fold his arms, muttering out a short, “Name’s Flynn Rider,” like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. Freckled Charming didn’t know Tangled back to front. Of course. Only losers like Jean did.
Freckled Charming blinked at him, and then smiled. “Nice to meet you, Flynn.”
Oh. Oh. Jean felt like he’d been punched in the chest. Bit of a cliché reaction, he thought to himself, but the body never lies. Freckled Charming was cute as fuck, after all. He rubbed the back of his neck with a weak grin, glancing over at his assembled fan club for a moment. “Th-thanks. Th-think I tried to steal something from your palace once, heh.” Or some shit like that, c’mon man stick to the script. “I could… er… if you’re not busy you and Cinders could come to mine and Rapunzel’s place and…er… watch the lanterns?” You’re losing it Jean, come on, focus.
Petra raised a brow at Jean, clearly thinking that he had well and truly lost it, but Freckled Charming laughed. He had a nice laugh. Jean’s confidence went on the rise. “That sounds fun. We should do that sometime.”
“Prince! Prince! Cinderelly!”
Jean stopped himself from gritting his teeth. Stupid kids ruining his groove. Freckled Charming immediately brought his attention to the children clamouring for his autograph or picture, and the large smile was back. “Hello there, royal subjects! And how are you on this fine, sunny day?” he asked. And then they were swarming him, giving him hugs and talking to him and getting him to sign things. Petra was beaming at him, impressed, and sidled a little closer to where Jean was stood, shamefully staring once again. “His name is Marco,” she whispered around the back of her hand. “He’s good, huh?”
“You can say that again,” Jean said faintly. Petra merely snickered and returned to the little girls with stars in their eyes, leaving Jean on the outskirts, staring at Freckled Charming and rolling the name ‘Marco’ around his mouth. Marco. Marco, Marco, Marco. Suits him. He let out a loud sigh like he was in a shitty romcom, watching the way Marco laughed and made all of his tiny fans giggle and blush at his sweetness, and didn’t hear the running footsteps until it was too late.
Suddenly, all he could see was gold.
He sneezed loudly, causing Marco’s head to jerk around to him with alarm, and shot the perpetrator a vicious glare. The kids were laughing and pointing as Connie sat cross legged on the railing next to him, and Jean pursed his lips at him. “What the heck was that for, Peter?!” he snapped.
Connie was grinning smugly. “Sooo Marco’s kinda nice, huh?” he said in a lowered voice. At least he knew how to be subtle.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jean brushed the pixie dust off his shoulders and fixed Connie with a scowl. “If Annie sees you’re out of your area again you’ll get in trouble.”
“I saw the way you were gazing at him with those big gold eyes.”
“Connie, I you don’t leave right now I swear to God-”
“He has his breaks at 11 and 2 and he likes caramel lattes. You’re welcome.” Connie sprinkled more gold dust over Jean’s head. “Let the homo dust guide you.”
“Why you little-”
The kids cheered as Connie took off with a chortle with Jean hot on his heels, many chanting, “Get ‘im Flynn, get ‘im!” whilst Marco and Petra looked on with slightly amused smiles.
Yeah, Jean thought as he nearly tripped over Marco’s feet in his desire to grab Connie’s neck and throttle him, I am definitely, irrevocably screwed.