Work Text:
She sits on the edge of the bathtub, trying not to wince too loudly as she removes her footwear and sets it aside. The damage is not as bad as it could be, yet the redness on top of both her feet hurts just a little more now than when she first noticed it. The only unburnt skin are the parts that her sandal straps mercifully protected, but that isn't saying much.
The bathroom floor is cold as her soles rest against it. As Mikasa brushes a strand of hair from her face, her fingers graze her forehead and feel the slightest bit of warmth, the heat of early summer having yet to truly fade from her skin.
She glances at Jean, who is standing in front of the sink. He finds a plastic bottle of bright green gel, words like “Aloe” and “Soothing” or “After-Sun” printed on the label.
“You don't have to do this,” Mikasa brings up yet again, though no part of her is interested in actually telling him to stop.
As a result, Jean shakes his head and glances upwards to the mirror, where their gazes meet in the reflection.
“It's fine,” he insists as he turns around.
The space of their shared bathroom has always been tight, a neutral side-effect of the average Montreal walk-up. His broad frame looks awkward in the room, but perhaps that has to do with having never perched on the tub's edge as Jean proceeded to play doctor.
After a few short steps he's in front of her, kneeling down to her sun burnt feet as he squirts a dollop of aloe gel onto his hands.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks.
“A little bit.”
Jean doesn't waste time from there, very briefly rubbing the gel between his fingers before applying it to her right foot.
His touch doesn't make her flinch as much as she respects, though the hands she rests on the edge of the tub tense up, squeezing the porcelain as if it were clay. He's gentle as he spreads the gel over her burn, holding her with the care he uses when handling a paintbrush or sketching in the book he keeps at the bottom of his bag.
When Jean finishes with the right, he grabs the green bottle off the floor and squeezes another dollop of gel onto his hands. As he applies it to her other foot with the same kind of sweetness, with the care and thought of any loving boyfriend.
Yet as he works, the tip of his thumb touches the bottom of her foot in a way that makes her grasp on the tub's edge just a little tighter, a reaction Jean evidently notices.
His eyes look up and meet hers, making Mikasa wonder if the agitation is visible on her face. She takes a breath to collect herself, internally blaming her reaction on ticklishness and nothing else, surely.
Her grip on the tub’s edge loosens as a smirk sneaks onto Jean’s face.
“Everything alright?” he asks, playful.
“I’m fine,” Mikasa insists, determined to not dignify the teasing tone in his voice with anything more than that.
Jean is unconvinced, the friskiness in his smile not entirely disappearing as he finishes his task.