Chapter Text
I know I shouldn’t have been nervous about taking Eren home for the first time. Yeah, we were dating for six months, but I’d had Maman and Papa both on my back since about the third month mark to get to meet him...Well, sometimes Maman and Papa can really overdo things. Couldn’t really blame them for it though: As their only child, and growing up with maybe two or three friends at most until I went off to college, they were super protective. Plus, I had never had someone who I spoke about with them before as much as Eren (maybe Marco, but he was never even thought of as being a potential boyfriend in my mind), and I hadn’t ever dated someone for longer than three months...So meeting Eren was a huge deal, and I could already hear my mom clicking her tongue disapprovingly as Eren met me in the hallway outside our bedroom in his permanently mud-stained jeans and rumbled (obviously not ironed) striped polo.
“Seriously Eren, they’re gonna be basically like sharks,” I warned as I fretted over his clothes, pulling him back into our bedroom and digging into our closet for something that Papa wouldn’t frown over. Eren’s clothes would’ve been perfectly fine if we were just going out to eat somewhere like we sometimes splurged for on the weekends we both had off...Maman had said that it would just be a casual dinner, though I could already see the disapproving looks in my mind’s eye, and couldn’t let that happen. It would be anything but casual tonight, though, they were going to be judging my boyfriend, and there was no way I’d let anything I could sort of control give my parents a negative impression.
“You ain’t dressed much different…” Eren grumbled under his breath, picking at the knee of his jeans as if that could get those damn stains out. (Trust me, nothing could, we had gone through probably two bottles of OxyClean before giving up completely. Eren usually wears these particular ruined pair of jeans exclusively for when we’re gardening in the little backyard, but somehow he’d decided that it was appropriate to wear to dinner with my parents .) Also, Eren’s observation is completely inaccurate: I may be wearing jeans, but they’re not worn and muddy like the pair he’d thrown on. And my polo had been ironed at least. I dug out Eren’s one pair of khakis, knowing that at least Maman would approve of that, and tried to find a shirt of his that wasn’t:
- An old band shirt full of holes,
- Not one of his many skirts. As cute as he looks in them, Papa would probably have a heart attack if he knew his son’s boyfriend wore skirts (and encouraged his son to wear them too. And fuck yeah I look good in them),
- Wrinkled all to hell (since we didn’t have time to drag the ironing board out right now), or
- About two washes away from being turned into a dishrag.
I was desperately fighting a losing battle, instead making a huge pile of shirts that we’d have to iron later instead of anything that could be worn tonight. Eren did at least put on the khakis that I pulled out for him, watching amusedly as I kept rummaging. “Y’know, love, you’re just gonna wrinkle everything more if you keep doing that,” Eren remarked as I roughly shoved all of his clothes in the closet to one side so I could go through them again. I huffed at him (well, more at his clothes as I squished my way into the closet) (all the jokes that Connie would be shouting if he could see me…) instead of actually acknowledging that yes, I knew that. But there had to be at least one thing that Eren owned that wasn’t a wrinkled piece of shit that Maman and Papa would approve of!
“Do you own anything that isn’t a piece of shit, Eren?” I called out to him as I leaned against the closet wall, feeling utterly defeated. Eren hummed at me slightly, but didn’t disagree with me, which was probably smart on his part. I dragged my hand over my face and up into my hair, only realizing that I was messing it up when I heard the slight crunch of hair gel, and sat down on the closet floor in despair. Maman and Papa were going to think I was dating a hobo, and would never approve of Eren. Which sounds like a really stupid thing to be agonizing over, but I really like Eren, and I really want Maman and Papa to approve of him. I’m not entirely sure how long I sat on the closet floor, staring at nothing and wondering how to get my parents to approve of my goddamn hobo boyfriend, when Eren cleared his throat.
“Jean? You said we’d have to leave by 4:30, and it’s already 4:15...Figured I should let you know, since you didn’t take your phone into the closet with you…” Eren trailed off, and I let out a low groan as I let myself slump towards my side of the closet. In that second, I realized that I hadn’t even been utilizing all of our resources, and dug through the small shelving unit in the corner of rarely worn clothes that I had, for something presentable that Eren could squeeze into. I came across the perfect thing: One of my older sweater vests, that I’d accidentally stretched because I misread the care instructions. It was still as soft as I remembered it being, and I knew that the dark burgundy color would look good with one of Eren’s white button ups against his tan skin...It was perfect. I jumped to my feet and quickly looked through Eren’s button up shirts, finding the whitest one with the smallest amount of stains and tears in it, and prayed to whatever god that was listening that these clothes would fit.
“Eren, get dressed!” I shouted, launching myself out of the closet at the same time that Eren had started to come forward again to check on me. I crashed into him, full speed, and we slammed into the hardwood floor, Eren nearly hitting his head on our bed’s baseboards. We laid there, dazed for a minute, before I shook myself into action and stood up. “C’mon, hurry up,” I pleaded, tossing the clothes I’d picked for him over my shoulder as I pulled him to his feet. Eren squinted up at me as though he wanted to say something about how nervous I was, but he shrugged it (as well as his polo shirt) off, getting dressed just as I had commanded. I breathed a quick thank you before spinning to face the mirror and trying my best to fix my hair; Eren’s hair was a lost cause, but his at least looked like it was supposed to be a mess. Behind me, there was the shuffling of clothing, and soon I had a warm arms wrapped around my waist, and Eren’s chin on my shoulder.
“It’s gonna go fine, Jean,” Eren mumbled before pressing his face against my neck. I sighed and ruffled his hair as I grumbled “I fuckin’ hope so.” I glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of my skin; it was 4:32, and we were gonna be late fuck!
“Shit! Eren, fuck, we gotta go!” I scrambled for my keys, and nearly flew out of our bedroom. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall that I remembered everything else I was supposed to bring with me (shoes would probably be a good idea). I groaned and started to double back, sighing thankfully when Eren handed me the shoes I had planned on wearing.
“I got your phone, your wallet’s in your front pocket, I put the wine that you wanted to give your parents in the car earlier, and we shouldn’t need anything else,” Eren listed off as he squeezed down the hall past me as I struggled with my shoes. He stopped to drop a quick kiss on the top of my head before going to wait for me by the front door, even though I was only three stumbling steps behind him. I just hoped that everything really would be okay tonight.