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Summary
"Don't do that." He whispers, voice sounding soft and genuine as he squeezes the other's shoulder minutely. A gesture that makes Jean's own breath stall in his throat, makes his muscles tense and his heart stumble stupidly in his chest. It doesn't help that Marco's close enough that Jean can pick up his familiar fragrance of pine trees and sweet vanilla.
"Don't do what?" He manages to say back, rolling his shoulders a little in hopes that gentle hand will pull away. But all he gets is another reassuring squeeze as Marco leans in enough to nudge that shoulder with his own.
"Don't pretend with me...and don't act like I shouldn't care."
Jean and Marco obliviously pining after each other in the military police.