Chapter Text
Marley, so far, had been both everything and nothing that Jean expected.
The smell of saltwater was pungent by the port where they’d arrived. The sea was a dazzling blue in the mid afternoon, and the air was gentle and mild as it blew carelessly through Jean’s overgrown hair, mussing it. The suit he wore to blend in with the locals and tourists alike was scratchy against his skin, foreign and uncomfortable as it clung to him, but the malaise was easy enough to tuck into the back of his mind for the time being. After all, there were plenty of other things to focus on.
He considered himself at least a touch more reserved than the rest of the Scouts, who ran amok as they inspected every merchant’s booth with childlike enthusiasm, Connie and Sasha especially. Considering the lengths they were going through to blend in, the undue attention of the ruckus was not the ideal by any means, but, well. It was admittedly all very exciting.
And on top of it all, Armin looked so, so happy, which is all that really mattered.
“Jean,” he’d said, eyes such a striking blue that they rivaled that of the glittering sea. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
The pure glee on his face was unmistakable; Jean had come to know it well. Laughter and the easy curve of the blond’s smile were rarer occurrences nowadays — Jean was always on the lookout — but the familiar grin Armin wore when he spoke was nearly as bright and hopeful as it had been all those years ago when Jean had only first met him, and the horrors of the world had yet to fully unfold before them all. An uneasy warmth bloomed in Jean’s chest at the sight: optimism so fragile that the slightest gust of wind could disrupt it, and he was all but powerless to hold it together.
It really was wonderful, though. He nodded, and returned Armin’s smile.
Now, sitting by Armin’s side in a warmly lit tent, Jean was happier than ever that he decided to take it all in. In the day or so since their arrival, they’d seen a lot: new foods, new kinds of people, new places, all of which Jean had allowed himself to enjoy just as the others were, and he was certainly happier for it. They explored all of it with a cautious curiosity; the circumstances hardly allowed them the time to be careless, but it was all so fascinating, and Armin’s body was radiating nervous heat from where their shoulders met.
“Armin,” Jean said. “Loosen up. Try some of this.”
He couldn’t remember a time the blond had ever been drunk.
Armin eyed him curiously, the smallest hint of mischief in his expression. He was tense for the most part, laughing along with the crowd when expected but otherwise keeping to himself as the others drank themself silly with the refugees. Jean tipped the makeshift cup toward Armin – an old, empty can that had once been filled with soup – as an offer. Whatever little resources that had been used to brew it left it terribly strong, and Armin grimaced as soon as the smell of it hit his nose. Jean was positive he wouldn’t like it, but it certainly beat being the only one sober.
He was feeling pleasantly buzzed as well, but was nowhere near some of the others. After only half a cup, he’d begun to feel the warmth in his chest, the liquid courage coursing through his veins. It’s how he’d ended up sitting next to Armin in the first place.
To Jean’s surprise, the blond took the offered cup and downed it completely. It was clearly not without
effort, if Armin’s wincing was anything to go by, but it was plenty impressive for someone who was hardly one for substances to swallow down half a cup without any thought.
“That,” Armin started, face still pinched together in distaste, “was awful.”
Jean laughed brightly. “Give it a few minutes. You’ll feel better.”
With time, Armin did, in fact, loosen up and feel better. So much so that he was hanging onto Jean by the end of the night, an arm wrapped around his shoulder to keep his knees from buckling as they walked a few paces from the tent in pursuit of a few moments of fresh air. Jean had laid off the drinking quite some time ago, enough that he was feeling more or less himself again. Thankfully, he didn’t mind it as much as he could have. This way, he’d be able to remember the way Armin was clinging to him, giggling freely and stumbling around. There was a bright flush high on his cheeks, soft blond strands sticking to his forehead with sweat. He looked so beautiful, so full of life, Jean could hardly stand it. He laughed along with him, ushering him to a hill that overlooked the city, now twinkling with the light of the evening.
“Here, how about you have a seat,” Jean said, far more of an order than a question. Wobbly as Armin was, it would hardly be the smartest idea to let him stand near a steep dropoff. Armin obeyed simply, and Jean followed suit, eager to be pressed up against his side again.
“Jean,” Armin started, leaning his head against Jean’s shoulder. Jean felt like he could combust. “I’m so happy.”
It was impossible not to laugh at the slurred words as they came. “You know, you’re pretty funny when you’re out of your head.” Jean leaned his head to the side, resting it ever so slightly on top of Armin’s. It was just the very last bit of alcohol coursing through him — nothing more. He wouldn’t have touched Armin like this normally, he reasons. Just this time. Only like this. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
There is a beat of silence.
”You make me happy.”
Jean sits up straight again at the words, and Armin follows, oblivious to Jean’s surprise. Jean hopes, perhaps stupidly, there’s something more to it, but then again, who knows? Drinking was known to loosen the tongue, but it seems unrealistic for Armin, as if he should be above all of that. “What?”
“You make me happy, Jean. That’s all. Thank you for taking care of me.”
Jean breathes a sigh of relief. Of course. Nothing more. “No problem. You’ve saved my ass plenty of times. It’s the least I can do.”
A giggle bubbles from Armin’s lips at this, and it’s contagious. Jean laughs along with him.
He thinks, briefly, of what it would be like to kiss him, to swallow his shallow giggles and taste his mirth. He shakes his head, trying to banish the thought. Maybe he was still drunker than he realized.
“Thank you for being such a good friend. You’re always there for me.” When Jean doesn’t respond immediately, Armin continues, turning his head to look at Jean. “I mean it, too. You’re smart, funny, strong.. I think you’re incredible. I think it’s a wonder you’re friends with me, but..” he shakes his head, brows furrowing as he searches for the words he’s trying to say. “I appreciate it.”
Maybe Armin was drunker than Jean realized, too. Very far gone, surely, to be talking like that.
Before Jean can even begin to process what Armin has said enough to offer a meaningful response, there is a shout from outside the tent at the bottom of the hill. The voice is familiar: Eren. Jean groans.
“Armin! Come back! We’re playing a game!”
Another voice. Connie.
“Jean! You too!”
Jean wished he could wring both of their necks. Instead, he stood, offered Armin a hand, and made his way back to the tent for the game.
Jean lost it miserably, anyways. Damn his luck.
—
The following evening, when there is a knock on the other side of Jean’s door, he is rather startled.
For their first visit, Lady Azumabito had been more than generous in the accommodations she offered. They each had private rooms at the estate: bigger and nicer beds than they’d had in years, soft sheets, and above all, privacy. The food was good too, three meals a day catered by the cooking staff, served at a long table in the dining room. They’d discuss matters of politics over each and every meal, Marleyans and Eldians and titans. Thankfully, Hange and Levi were the ones who did most of the talking back, leaving the younger Scouts to savor their luxury meals in peace.
It must be well beyond midnight now, though Jean was not sure of the exact time. He had engrossed himself in quite a frustrating drawing; he was trying to draw the port and couldn’t quite get the shading of the incoming ships just right, much to his dismay. The knock at the door ripped him from his thoughts.
He padded over to the sound, his socks doing little to keep the chill of the wood floor from his feet. When he opens it, — carefully, as to not disturb anyone else on the floor with its weary creak — he is surprised to find Armin there.
“Oh! Hey,” he says, and then immediately kicks himself for how overly enthusiastic he sounds. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Armin shook his head. “Can I come in?”
Jean stepped aside, opening his door wider in invitation. As Armin entered, he looked around at the ornate furniture, tracing fingers along the dresser and eyeing the couch by the fireplace. Perhaps his room looked somewhat different.
“About last night,” Armin started, breaking the silence that had settled over them. “I just wanted to tell you that I meant what I said.”
Jean’s brow furrows. “What?”
Armin gives him a look.
“Oh, now don’t tell me you don’t remember. That would be embarrassing for me.”
Smart. Funny. Strong. Incredible.
“You make me happy, Jean.
Of course Jean remembered. How could he forget?
He shook his head.
“No, I remember.” He smiles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Armin, but if anything, I’m honestly kind of shocked that you remember. You were pretty…”
“Drunk?” Armin offers with a laugh.
Jean returns his laugh in kind. “Yeah. Very.”
Armin nods, a grin still lingering on his face. He looks at Jean, his skin illuminated by the glow of the moon through the window.
He looks undeniably beautiful.
“I meant it all.”
Jean’s heart leapt at the sentiment. He recalled the litany of compliments, the sincerity in Armin’s voice when he said them. He’d return them all tenfold if he didn’t worry that he’d say far too much.
“You came all this way to tell me that?”
Perhaps “all this way” was a bit of an exaggeration. Armin’s room was in another wing, yes, but still. The thought was there. The blond nodded.
“Of course. I didn’t want you to think I was just saying them because I wasn’t fully there, so I wanted to tell you again.” There is a beat of silence before Armin continues. “That, and also, I couldn’t sleep. I figured you might be the same.”
“Well.” Jean smiled awkwardly. How was he even to respond?
“Well,” Armin echoed. “That’s okay. I’ll get out of your hair; I just wanted to stop by. I guess this is goodnight.”
He moved from where he stood, headed toward the door. He looked almost.. sad. Jean’s gut tightened at the idea of him leaving, the look on his face.
“Wait.”
Armin stopped in his tracks, turning around to face Jean again, his hand still resting tentatively on the door knob.
Jean cleared his throat. He had to say something.
“I.. feel the same. You’re a great friend, Armin.”
He brightened. “Thanks, Jean.”
Still, just a moment later, he turned around again to leave. As he twisted the doorknob, Jean’s heart sank.
The liquid courage of the alcohol was gone now, leaving Jean entirely on his own. His heart pounded.
“And I really admire you.”
This caught Armin’s attention. He turned around, facing Jean again. He even looked surprised.
“What?”
Jean shook his head, incredulous. He knew Armin could be insecure, but he had to have some idea of how much Jean respected him. How amazing he truly was.
“I admire you. I think you’re so smart, Armin. You’re loyal, capable, kind..” Jean stopped himself, feeling his cheeks heat up. He took a step toward where Armin stood. “You’re.. special to me. What more is there to say?”
Armin mirrored him, taking a step forward. The distance between them was shrinking exponentially.
“You mean that?”
Jean nodded swiftly. “Of course I do.”
With a smile, Armin took another step. They were nearly chest to chest now.
Jean’s breath hitched as Armin looked up at him.
“Well.”
“Well?”
Jean is unsure who leans in first, but it is electric, and Armin’s lips move seamlessly in tandem with his own.
And when he feels Armin smile against his lips, fingers tangled in his hair, Jean feels that maybe his luck is not so bad after all.