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“Jean don’t… don’t go easy on me okay?” Armin told him as the sun beat down on them. It was early in winter, the chill in the air was negated only by the burn of the morning sun and the fire in Armin’s eyes. There was no doubt that Armin was strong. He hadn’t been that far behind the top ten, he was more than just proficient with the maneuver gear, but he had never excelled with hand to hand combat and the training helped build muscle.
“I wouldn’t go easy on you even if you begged for it,” Jean said.
“It’s usually you begging,” his eyes narrowed seductively and Jean flushed as Armin’s strike hit his jaw hard. He couldn’t recover and fell head over heels backwards. “Oh! Oh my god Jean I’m so sorry! Saints I am so sorry!” He clapped his hands over his face as the other soldiers laughed.
Jean groaned, a pile of sweaty training clothes and leather harness on the ground. “It’s… it’s fine.” He sat up and adjusted his jaw as Armin fell to his knees beside him.
“I’m so sorry Jean! Are you okay?” He caught his hands. “Let me see I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
“It’s fine really,” he chuckled.
“It’s not fine! I knocked you over!”
“By the saints would you--”
“Jean let me see! Open your mouth did you bite your tongue?”
“Armin I--”
“Jean--” He swallowed whatever Armin was going to say next with a kiss.
“Would you shut the hell up?” He said against his lips and someone-- Ymir? -- catcalled.