Work Text:
From: HALFLINGER (12:01 AM)
Im outside can you get out here please
Eren quirks an eyebrow and pulls out one earbud, and sure enough, he can hear the quiet rumble of Jean’s truck’s engine.
Eren sighs and rolls out of bed, whining softly and screwing up his face in disgust as his bare feet hit the freezing floor. He starts to pull on a pair of jeans and texts back, nearly losing his balance as he does so.
To: HALFLINGER (12:03 AM)
DO I RLLY HAVE TO ITS LIKE. .. NEGATIVE ASSHOLE DEGREES OUTSIFDE.
From: HALFLINGER (12:04 AM)
You dont have to.
From: HALFLINGER (12:04 AM)
Please.
Eren frowns. Jean never says please.
To avoid waking his mom or Mikasa, Eren climbs out his window and lands face first in a pile of snow. He grabs a handful of it to shove down the back of Jean’s shirt for making him go out in the cold, if the problem isn’t too serious.
It’s serious. He drops his fistful of half melted snow. He knows Jean’s ‘I’m trying not to cry’ face, and it never fails to make his heart sink to his stomach. He gets into the passenger seat, and Jean doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look at him, so Eren doesn’t talk either, just watches Jean as he pulls out of his driveway. Watches him as he drives through the dirt roads until he reaches the highway, watches him edge past the speed limit, watches his lips tremble and press together, his hands tighten on the steering wheel-
“Pull over.” Eren tells him.
“What?” Jean says, his voice cracking. He glances over at Eren, and Eren can see how his eyes shine with tears he’s not letting himself cry.
“Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”
For a second, Eren think’s Jean’s going to fight him, but then he complies, pulling onto the shoulder of the road and getting out. Eren slides over, moves the seat forward (He swears one day he’ll catch up to Jean in height and won’t have to adjust the seat every time, but so far it hasn’t happened) and buckles, then waits for Jean to buckle in as well before continuing to drive.
They drive in silence for a while, until Eren pipes up again.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Jean sniffs. “No.”
“D’ya need to talk about it?”
“Probably.” Jean says, then he sighs, slouching further into his seat and pulling his knees to his chest, burying his face in them.
Eren doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he reaches over and puts a comforting hand on the blond boy’s shoulder, and for once Jean doesn’t shake him off.
Eren’s somewhat glad he’s not a patient person, because if he were, he’d wait for Jean to speak, and Jean never would. Jean’s the type of person who internalizes and internalizes and internalizes until he explodes like a shaken coke bottle, only twice as messy.
“So,” Eren says, sliding his hand down Jean’s arm to tug his hand away from his body so he can hold it, “What happened this time? Mom or dad?”
Jean squeezes his hand. “Dad.”
Eren sucks in a breath. “Are you hurt?” He says, worriedly glancing over at him.
Jean shrugs, hunkering further down into his oversized sweatshirt. “Jus’ a couple of bruises. I’ll be fine. Stop speeding, lead foot.”
“Oh, shit.” Eren mumbles, easing upon the gas. He hadn’t even noticed, but then again, that’s what happens when he gets angry. He switches on cruise control and looks over at Jean, brows furrowed in concern. “Why though?”
Jean grips his hand tighter, so tight it hurts, but Eren doesn’t pull his hand away. And for once in his life, he doesn’t press, he waits.
“E-Eren, I’m gay.”
Eren nods, shoving down the crush he’s harbored for years as it pokes its head out eagerly. “So am I, Jean, you know that.”
Jean is struggling not to cry, blinking, sniffling, the whole works, and Eren fights the urge to shake his head at Jean’s internalized hypermasculinity. “It’s ok to cry, you know. You don’t have anything to prove by not crying.”
Jean lets out a shaky breath and rubs his eyes with the hand not crushing Eren’s. “While we were going at it, I t-told him who I liked.”
Eren hums an affirmative, rubbing a thumb across Jean’s knuckles soothingly.
“A-And Eren… You’re not allowed to c-come over anymore.”
The brunet raises an eyebrow in question. “Why the hell not? He doesn’t know I’m gay, and I thought he thought I was a good influence because I’m mister buff sportsguy, being the cross country team’s captain and all.”
Jean lets out a high-pitched whine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and attempts to open the door and jump out.
It doesn’t really work, because of how fast the truck is moving, but it nearly gives Eren a heart attack.
“Jesus Christ, Jean!” He yells, grabbing the boy’s skinny wrist and pulling him into his seat. He turns on his turn signal and pulls into the rest stop that just appeared, feeling Jean shaking in his grip. Eren parks haphazardly in the darkest corner of the parking lot and turns to stare at Jean, wide eyed. “What the hell was that?!” He hisses, not yelling anymore, because he knows how much yelling scares Jean, but still shocked and scared.
Jean blinks at him, a single tear escaping and slowly dripping down his reddening cheek. “Y-You actually d-didn’t get that… Eren, I l-like you.”
Oh.
Jean finally, finally lets himself cry, huge, hiccuping sobs that wrack his whole body. Eren unbuckles and slides over to pull Jean into his arms, glad that Jean’s truck has a bench seat rather than a center console. He rubs his hands up and down Jean’s back as the other boy presses his face into Eren’s chest and cries.
“Shh, Shh… I got you, it’s ok, let it out.” Eren whispers soothingly, pressing soft kisses to the top of Jean’s head.
After a few minutes, his sobs ease.
“Eren, y-you’re such a d-dense motherfucker…” He mumbles, voice muffled because his face is still pressed into Eren’s hoodie. But then he pulls back, scrubbing roughly at his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. “S-Sorry. Y-you probably d-don’t like me back, and I just-” Jean hiccups loudly, cutting himself off. He turtles back into his sweatshirt, apologizing profusely, and Eren’s not sure who he’s more exasperated at, himself or Jean.
“Jean.” He says. “Look at me.” He waits until Jean’s bloodshot eyes finally peer out from the purple fabric before he continues. “Jean, I’ve liked you since sixth grade.”
It takes a bit of coaxing (“Yes, Jean, I’m being serious.” “No, Jean, I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”) But eventually Eren gets Jean to stop hiding and come back into his arms.
He kisses Jean’s forehead softly. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Jean pulls back to give him a look. “Eren, my dad always kicks me out for the night after a fight, remember?”
“Notice how I said home, and not your house.”
Jean’s mouth opens into a small o, and then he nods rapidly, buckling his seatbelt.
He falls asleep on the drive back, and he won’t wake up when they pull into Eren’s driveway, attempts to poke him awake only glean a few mutters and a twitch of his boney fingers. So, he gets out, opens the passenger side's door, gently picks the blond up and carries him inside.
He walks down the hallway and pauses at the entrance to the kitchen and the living room, entirely unsurprised to see his mother sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him. She's about to start yelling (and he can guess the lecture, her words would switch rapidly between arabic and english, but the meaning would be the same. "Eren Grisha Jaeger, how dare you sneak out of the house, did you think I wouldn't notice…") but then she sees Jean, and her face softens, although her eyes begin to boil with a different kind of fury.
His mother guessed how awful Jean's parents are to him from the moment that she set eyes on him. She also has no respect for anyone who can treat their child with any cruelty, as she demonstrated when she physically pushed Eren's father out of the house when Eren came out at the end of seventh grade.
"Should I set up the guest bedroom?" She whispers.
Eren shakes his head and adjusts his grip on Jean, making him stir slightly. "No, but thanks. Think he's just gonna sleep in my bed tonight." He whispers back. She nods, and Eren continues walking to his bedroom. He deposits Jean on his bed, which jostles him awake enough for Eren to persuade him to take off his shoes and skinny jeans, because those make Eren fear for Jean's (already bad) circulation. He dives into his closet to find Jean some sweatpants to borrow, but when he turns back, Jean's already burrowed underneath the covers and fallen back asleep.
Ten months later, Jean has sort of unofficially moved into Eren's house. He denies it when Marco asks, but all his clothes are there, Ms. Jaeger introduces him with a "This is my other son, Jean," and his parents kicked him out for good a week after Jean confessed to Eren.
He also has gone to every single one of Eren's cross country meets.
The championship isn't any different.
Jean shifts from foot to foot by the finish line, pressed uncomfortably tight against the fence and fiddling with his phone in an attempt to look busy so no one attempts to spark a conversation. He's been watching the time, and he figures it's going to be about three more minutes before Eren bursts into view. Jean would bet anything that Eren's going to come in first, even if it's very, very close.
The man standing next to him seemingly does not understand the whole "I'm trying to look busy so don't talk to me" act, given the fact that he shifts closer and says, "You trying to get a spot early to watch your girlfriend's race?"
Jean slowly looks up into the man's watery blue eyes and swallows, then laughs nervously, shuffling his feet so he inches away. "You could say that."
The man whistles. "It's always nice to meet a young man who cares so much about his girlfriend. These days boys seem to be too into their Call of Duty and death metal to care. You make me have a little bit of hope for this new generation."
Jean nods, feeling his face heating up as he recalls how last night he and Eren were playing CoD. (First Eren's foot was in his mouth as the shorter boy tried to distract him after yet another easy kill, then Eren's tongue in a second attempt, which, admittedly, had worked much better than the first.)
"You treat your lady right, you hear?" The man continues, and Jean nods again.
"Yes, sir." Jean says, praying that he'll drop it.
He does, but probably only because the first boy has come around the bend and into sight, Eren at his heels.
Jean jumps forward, cheering, and taking pictures for Eren's mom, because she couldn't make it. Eren glances up, his dark hair falling out of the ponytail he had wrangled it into and slicked to his face with sweat, then he ducks his head and sprints.
He crosses the finish line a split second before the boy who had been in front of him.
Jean whoops, grinning, then starts to back away so he can walk Eren's cooldown laps with him, but then he realizes that Eren isn't stopping.
The brunet slams into the chain link fence, reaching over it to grab Jean's face in his hands and presses their lips together, hard enough to hurt, but Jean's laughing.
After a few seconds, Jean pushes him away gently. "You look hot." He says.
"I-I do?" Eren asks, panting, his brow furrowing.
"Yeah," Jean replies. "You're all sweaty."
Eren laughs breathlessly at him and tries to duck in for another kiss, but Jean holds him back, even when Eren whines.
"Go cool down. I'll meet you over there."
Eren nods, too winded to talk very much, and trots off, throwing up a thumbs up when Jean yells "And drink some water! Slowly, so you don't throw up on me like last time!"
Jean pushes his way out of the crowd, which is still whooping and cheering as more runners finish, firing off a quick "first!!!!!!!!!!" text to Ms. Jaeger, who responds with dozens of smiley face emojis.
That night, Jean comes out on instagram with a photo of Eren kissing him on the cheek, the first place medal around his neck gleaming in the sun. "boyfriend came in first!!! @jaegerbombastic" the caption reads, and Jean doubts that he's ever been happier in his life.