Work Text:
There’s water that laps against Marco’s bare feet, warm and gentle, glimmering under the bright sun. A kind of turquoise blue that puts every other colour to shame.
He laughs as he watches Sasha chase Connie through the shallow waters, splashing after him, their voices loud and unabashed. It’s nice to see them so carefree, without worry, without fear. Just them, candidly, like they had been back as cadets.
Crouching down to dip his hands in the water, Marco lets a handful of sand slip through his fingers. It drops back down, glistening as it settles, before he does it again. It’s curious, this giant body of water called the sea: a large, vast expanse of saltwater, over miles upon miles of sand, full of creatures and plants they all know so little about.
Things that Marco can’t wait to learn.
Someone wades through the water, and comes to a stop just behind Marco. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is, especially when a hand cards through his hair a few times, before coming to rest atop his head.
“How you holding up?”
Marco leans into the touch, and lets his own hand dip into the water again, feeling the sand filter through his hold once more.
“I’m good. It’s amazing. I can’t believe it.”
“Told you you’d like it.”
The hand on top of Marco’s head slides down as he raises up, moving from his hair to his neck, to his shoulders, before coming to a stop in the centre of his back. Toying with the loose fabric of his shirt, Marco turns his head slightly to cast his eye over Jean.
“I don’t think I ever want to leave.”
Jean hums lightly. He lets his hand drop from Marco’s back, instead reaching towards his own belt, detaching the water canteen from it, and handing it over to Marco.
“Here, drink, you’ve gotta be thirsty,” he instructs, and Marco does as he’s told. “Don’t try to drink the seawater, whatever you do. It’s real salty.”
“Sasha told me you tried to drink it the first time,” Marco stifles a laugh at the way Jean’s cheeks heat up slightly, “you can be an idiot sometimes, you know?”
“Only sometimes though, right?” Jean tries to play it off, cool, taking the canteen back from Marco and reattaching it to his belt. “And you still like me anyway.”
“Of course,” Marco’s response is honest, earnest. There’s no one else he likes quite as much as he likes Jean. “You can be as idiotic as you want and I’ll still like you.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jean nods, before he wades a little deeper.
And Marco follows him, not quite as brave as Jean is, but trusting him to keep him safe. He lets his hand reach for Jean’s wrist, needing to keep him close—just in case. Smiles as Jean threads their fingers together instead, as he points out a little fish that swims past their feet, as the sun keeps them comfortably warm.
It might not be quiet, not with Sasha and Connie’s laughter, not with the Scouts setting up camp on the shore, and not with the waves lapping against the sand, but it is peaceful. It’s a whole, beautiful world that Marco never knew there was to discover.
And still—
“I missed you.”
The three words that come from Jean’s lips make Marco’s eyebrows raise. He’s not one for sincerity, not often, anyway. Not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, even after everything they’ve been through.
So it’s surprising, when Jean drops Marco’s hand. Stops their wading in favour of wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and pulling him into a forceful hug.
That’s when Marco feels it.
He’s noticed it before, but this time he feels it. Jean is taller. Bigger. Stronger. He’s not wiry and slim anymore. Not all angles and bones and furrowed brows.
He’s grown. He’s a man. He’s…different. Good different, but he’s not the same kid Marco once knew. That’s what getting older does. That, and all the training, all the hard work, all the relentless hours of toiling that Marco hasn’t been through in a while, that Jean goes through everyday.
And still—
“I missed you too,” Marco sighs, burying his head in the crook of Jean’s shoulder. Maybe it’s the months of laying in the infirmary bed that has quite possibly stunted his growth, but is Jean taller than him now? Broader, even? There’s definitely more defined muscles in his back, in his shoulders, in his…well, everywhere. “I missed everyone.”
“But me the most, right?” Jean pulls back, and instead of letting go, he brings his hands up to cup Marco’s face. Smooths his thumb over the deep scars on his right side, over the sensitive skin. So gentle, like Marco trusts him to be. He laughs just a little. “It’s gotta be me. Tell me it’s me, or I’ll get jealous.”
Marco smiles, as he places his hands over Jean’s. Traces his gaze over his pointed nose, his upturned lips, his golden eyes that seem to sparkle more when Marco is looking into them.
“Always. It’s always you.”
And still, despite all of this allure, despite this new expanse that has been presented to Marco, despite everything, the only thing he finds himself truly mesmerised by, the most beautiful thing to him in the entire world, is Jean.