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To be frank, Marco doesn’t know what he’s doing.
As in, he literally doesn’t know. They’ve been doing online school for almost two weeks now—their school is still under inspection for any toxic substances after the accident in the science lab—and though he started off strong at first, he currently can’t even remember what class he’s in.
What Marco does know is that he shouldn’t be kissing Jean right now.
He’s more than grateful to the Kirschteins’ for letting him come over every morning; Marco’s wifi has been acting up since the beginning of the month, and connecting to class is next to impossible. And yet, even now that he has everything he needs to pay attention, he’s not doing it. He finds Jean to be way more interesting.
It’s his own fault, really. He should have set up his laptop instead of sharing Jean’s phone again. ‘Again’, because at this point, all of their teachers know the two of them usually log in from the same device. What they don’t know is that they spend every period cuddled up on Jean’s bunk bed together.
And kissing, apparently.
Which… isn’t exactly new.
Jean’s phone has fallen over somewhere on the side of his bed, and Marco thinks he can hear Connie stumbling through an answer, but he doesn’t care. He’s got Jean underneath him, who is holding onto him like he’s the only one in the world, one hand resting on Marco’s arm, the other on his face. He’s caressing Marco’s cheek as they kiss, and his fingers feel so tender against his skin that Marco feels like he could melt right into the touch—and maybe he is melting, or already has. He can’t tell anymore.
He runs his fingers through Jean’s hair, and even though he’s done this a million times before, it feels like something new. There’s a difference between playfully ruffling your best friend’s hair when you’re out, and making out on his bed, Marco thinks. He doesn’t dwell on it though. He’d rather enjoy this moment while it lasts.
Marco brings his other hand to cup Jean’s face. They’ve been kissing for… since they started going over the worksheet they had for homework at the beginning of class, but it’s not headed anywhere further than that. It’s heated, but it’s just the right amount of heated, and they have a steady rhythm going. Aside from the sound of their lips smacking together and the class playing in the background, it’s quiet. Peaceful. Jean tends to make him feel that way when he’s around.
And Marco knows, he knows he should be the bigger person, that if they keep this going for too long it’s going to end up in one of them, or both, getting hurt, but Jean’s lips under his are captivating. So Marco continues kissing him, curiously. Both because he doesn’t do this often—kiss people—and because it’s Jean.
Mostly because it’s Jean.
Yeah.
He wonders what Jean is thinking right this moment. They never talk about whatever this is, whenever it happens, and Marco doubts that conversation is coming anytime soon, but he can’t help but wonder. Does his best friend like kissing Marco as much Marco likes kissing him? He has to. Why else would he agree to do this with him? A voice in the back of his head reminds Marco that Jean never did agree to this, not vocally, at least, but he shoves it off.
Focus, he tells himself, and he briefly opens his eyes to look at Jean. The lighting is dim underneath the canopy—though it’s not really a canopy; it’s more like a tent, a deep blue covered in white spots, that reminds Marco of the sky. Jean’s had it since he was a kid, and Marco can understand why. It brings a sense of security over them. The canopy is relatively thin, so he can make out Jean’s face by the light coming through the window of his room. His eyes are closed, and Marco soon copies him. A glance was all he needed to remind himself this is real.
The thing about Jean is that he’s so enchanting Marco will sometimes think it’s all fantasy. He doesn’t understand how that’s possible; he can feel Jean’s hands on his body, and he can most certainly feel his lips on his. And even when they’re not there, sometimes Marco lies awake at night and he can still feel them. Feel him. So how come he needs a reminder now?
Jean shifts a bit, to readjust himself on his pillow, and the way he tilts his head feels so good that Marco allows himself to sigh. It’s the only sound Jean’s going to get out of him. The silence is part of this. It’s like an unspoken agreement.
But it leaves Marco wondering again. What would happen if he were to make another sound? If he were to mumble what he really thought about this against Jean’s lips? He wants to believe Jean would do the same, but he also knows Jean. It doesn’t sound like something he’d do—not with Marco, anyway, but that’s the thrill of it, and exactly what makes him want to disturb their rhythm even more.
He wants to pull Jean closer with the hand that’s still tangled in his hair, to deepen their kiss, to find an opening and properly flick his tongue in his mouth instead of just sucking on his lips. He wants to rest his hand on his chest or waist, to move his knee between Jean’s thighs, to swallow all the abrupt sounds he’d make, and for him to do the same. Marco wants to continue kissing him forever, to breathe out his name because it’s Jean, it’s Jean that’s doing this to him, and not some stupid teenage hormones, it’s always been Jean, and he wants him to know so bad that—
“Jean.”
But Marco doesn’t do any of that. Of course he doesn’t. So why is Jean’s name being called out?
“Jean Kirschtein. Will you please log out of class?”
It takes him a few seconds to realise that the voice is coming from none other than Jean’s phone, and it seems to be the same for Jean, because before he knows it, they’re both pulling away, and Jean is mumbling curses under his breath.
“Marco?”
Marco quickly rolls off him and starts helping him look for his phone. Jean makes a grab for it first, clumsily tapping on the screen to unmute himself.
“Seriously, you two, are you even there—?”
“Sorry, Miss Nanaba!” Jean says. He sounds normal for the most part, if not a little bit out of breath, but there’s no way their teacher would be able to tell. “My phone, uh, it glitched!”
Marco can’t see the screen from where he’s sitting, but he can almost imagine their geometry teacher shaking her head. “No worries. Marco, you’re all good with the notes I sent you, right?”
“What notes…” Marco mumbles under his breath, and Jean glares at him to shut up. Just how distracted had he been? He shakes the thought off and clears his throat, hoping he can play it off cool. “Yep, just fine! Thank you!”
“Alright. Have a good rest of the day, you two.”
“Thank you, you too!”
“Thanks,” Jean says at the same time as Marco, and leaves the meeting with a tap of his finger. He sighs in relief when it’s finally over, and drops his phone on the bed again. “Why didn’t she just kick us out herself?”
Marco shrugs. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed the class was over if she hadn’t spoken to them, but he can’t really say that out loud. He’s still warm all over his body, and could do with a glass of water to snap himself back into reality.
As if Jean was reading his thoughts—terrifying, terrifying, terrifying, he does not want Jean in his head right now, not with the scenarios he’s imagining—he responds, “I’m gonna grab something to eat, do you want anything?”
Despite his panic, Marco finds it in him to smile. It’s always easy, with Jean. “I’ll have anything,” he says, “and some water.”
“Gotcha,” Jean says and slips down the other end of his bed, climbing down the ladder.
The moment his footsteps fade out, Marco exhales deeply, and rolls on his back. It’s probably a good thing he’s surrounded by Jean’s childhood fort, because there’s barely a chance of being sneaked upon. He closes his eyes, tries to linger on every single moment of the last half an hour he spent with his friend. He would have gotten up to make some space on Jean’s desk for the food, but he never set up his laptop there to begin with. There’s nothing to sort, and there’s no reason for him to move, which means he’s got nothing to distract himself with.
And then he’s painfully reminded of the geometry notes he was sent.
Marco groans. His phone is in his bag, which means he needs to get out of bed. He’s gonna have to ask Armin what that’s about too, but then Armin’s gonna ask him why he wasn’t paying attention (again), and that’s not a conversation Marco is ready for. It’s not as if he can lie through it either; Armin knows him too well.
He forces himself to slip out of the safety of Jean’s canopy. The sudden gush of air on his skin is more than welcome; he needs something to ground him.
Marco grabs his phone and makes himself comfortable on Jean’s chair. There is indeed an email waiting for him, but he doesn’t open it. Instead, he starts going through a few texts from the group chat to pass the time, and soon enough, Jean shows up again. Marco only looks at him with the corner of his eye as he places the tray on the desk, and looks over his shoulder. Marco shivers; he’s usually a really touchy person, especially with Jean, but with everything that happened a few minutes ago, he doesn’t trust himself not to grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him senseless.
Jean lingers over his shoulder for a few more seconds before speaking up. “Anything interesting?”
Marco shakes his head. “Unless you want to see the shirtless picture of Reiner that Connie has been spamming for the past two hours, then no—”
“The one he edited his hips to be huge in?”
“Yep.”
“Again?!” Jean says and takes the phone off Marco’s hands to look. His eyebrows furrow in such a way that makes Marco break into giggles, but Jean is too busy storming around the room to notice.
Marco leans his elbow on the desk and rests his head on his palm. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, Jean, I’d say you were into Re—”
“Oh, don’t you even start,” Jean interrupts with a warning tone, but it only makes Marco laugh louder. Marco watches as Jean keeps scrolling down the group chat, shaking his head at the conversation. “I’m gonna tell Connie and Reiner off, ignore me for a second.” Marco doesn’t even protest at the idea of Jean using his phone to send a voice message, and it’s not as if Jean gives him any time to. “‘Next time either of you send that picture, I’m going to…’”
Jean keeps ranting, and Marco lets him. He only takes his gaze off him to check on the tray he brought; an apple cut into two, and a couple of his Mom’s homemade croissants. Bless her.
On the tray are also two glasses of water, and Marco finds himself reaching for one almost instantly. He brings it to his mouth, but doesn’t drink yet. The cold glass on his lips makes him miss the warmth of Jean’s lips against his, and he almost throws his head back in frustration.
Jean is still at it with the voice messages. In his defense, Marco thinks, there’s barely anyone in their group chat that hasn’t had enough of the whole situation. He doesn’t even remember how it started, but it ended up with Reiner and Connie spamming badly edited pictures of themselves in which they pretended to be models, and they’re not showing any signs of stopping anytime soon.
But Marco isn’t thinking about the pictures right now. His eyes are focused on the way Jean’s lips move as he speaks, barely registering the death threats he’s sending their friends. Even like this, Jean moves elegantly. As if the whole world is looking at him, and he doesn’t care—which Marco knows not to be true. Jean doesn’t do well with crowds.
He does well with him.
Marco shakes his head, his fingers gripping tighter around the glass. He needs to snap himself out of his thoughts before he says, or even worse, does, something he’ll regret. So he tilts his head back.
Downs the glass of water.
“That should shut them up. Here’s your phone, Marco. ”
Still wants to kiss Jean.