Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life flows in a circle. Just when you think you think you’re going in a straight line, suddenly you find yourself back at the beginning. For Jean, a firm handshake and one brief conversation with Erwin Smith at Marco’s wake turned into a bonafide job offer. It was basically the same mortgage and portfolio gig he had in the city with the same pay rate but at a much smaller company and with a smaller client base. At first Jean had been averse to moving back to the small South Carolina town, but when he considered the cost of living difference, he went for it. He needed a change. Also, he’d be halfway between Mom and Dad but not so close that he’d have to visit every day.

Now, just a few short months later, he was back in Sina paying Mrs. Bodt a decent sum to live in Marco’s old room until he could afford the down payment on a house. It was quite the adjustment going from city to rural life. For one, it was lonely. Living in the city had been lonely too, but it was a different kind of lonely. There were always people around you in the city so it had been easy to pretend he wasn’t alone. Jean ate lunch by himself and spread paperwork out so it looked as if he were busy.

There was the added inconvenience of a lack of gay community in Sina. Jean was sure it existed, he just had no idea where they were. It wasn’t as if he could walk down the street singing “Come out, come out wherever you are!” He didn’t think the small town was particularly homophobic, but he was cautious. The first person he approached was his new coworker. Paired with his soft drawl and the way he sized up the waterboy’s ass, Jean thought it was a safe bet.

“Hi, I’m Jean,” Jean said, leaning on the man’s desk and turning on the charm. “I’m new—“

“Ew, no,” Armin cut him off.

Apparently not.

Jean blinked and tried again. The blond man was slender with a snub nose and he often wore clothing that was on the edge of fashion forward and fashion disaster. For example, today he was wearing dusty rose cords with a matching floral button down, the collars of which had little metal tips. Not really Jean’s type, but then again Jean’s type was whatever he could get.

“Sorry, I was just introducing myself, I’m—“

“I know who you are. Not interested.”

“Uh, okay.”

“You don’t remember me do you?” his new coworker asked, leaning back and tossing his hair in annoyance.

“No?”

Jean was fairly sure he would have remembered someone who wore bowties.

“You used to give me swirlies in the toilet. You made my life miserable,” the man said in a huffy little whisper.

“Wait…Armpit Arlert?”

“Wow.”

Thus was Jean’s first attempt at bonding with the locals. The second was trying to get the attention of the hot bartender over in Trost with no success. Every time Jean worked up the courage to say anything, someone else would beat him to it.

“You should let me set you up!” Reiner said excitedly.

Jean declined—at first. Then Armin set up a divider between their two desks so he didn’t have to look at Jean’s “Neanderthal face.”

“Look, if I apologized, would that make it better?” Jean sighed.

“Can you erase four years of name calling and being trapped in lockers all because you were a self-hating little gay boy who decided to pick on someone smaller than himself?”

“I was only there for one year!”

“The name stuck,” Armin said coolly.

“I don’t know if I can fix it, but if you let me take you to dinner I could start,” Jean tried with a sexy grin.

“Oh, ew, ugh,” Armin retched.

So then he decided to take Reiner up on his offer.

“Right so that is Maria’s Italian Eatery at 7pm. And…Aaron. Right. Okay,” Jean said scribbling down details and hanging up.

Armin leaned over the divider and tilted the sticky note for him to read.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully.

“What?” Jean asked. “Do you know him?”

“Honey, I know every gay man in a three county area.”

“Then set me up!” Jean pleaded.

“Hm,” Armin pretended to consider it. “No.”

“Well Reiner says he’s a good guy,” Jean said nervously.

“Maybe you could dazzle him with your ability to make fart noises with your armpit. As I recall that was an incredible talent of yours.”

“Will you let it go? I was thirteen and stupid!”

“Not much has changed,” Armin sniffed.

Armin logged off his computer and picked up his leather satchel just as a familiar face pushed through the office doors. Jean’s breath hitched. There she was, the queen of his middle school years in cropped black slacks and a silk red scarf. She beat out a brisk step in her expensive heels and stopped by Jean and Armin’s shared desks.

“Ready to go?” she asked Armin.

“Oh my god, Mikasa?” Jean stumbled to his feet. “Hi!”

“Oh…hello.”

“It’s Jean Kirstein,” he reminded her digging his thumbs into his chest. “Oh man, I haven’t seen you in forever! Not since—“

“Not since you told everyone I showed you my boobs behind the Pizza Hut?” she asked with a wry smile and cracked her red lacquered nails.

Not since she had beaten the crap out of him by the school dumpster for spreading that rumor. Now he was remembering. She had slapped him in the face with his own shoes. Uh oh.

“Yes, we were just reminiscing about all the horrible things he used to do to me,” Armin said airily. “But look who Reiner set him up with on a date.”

He picked up the sticky note and waved it in front of her face.

“I don’t know who that is,” she said blankly, staring at Aaron’s name. “Oh. Oh god, that’s hilarious.”

She never gave so much as a laugh but her red lips twitched in what might have been amusement.

“Why, is it bad?” Jean asked nervously.

“No. I mean, it depends. How do you feel about back hair?” she deadpanned. 

Jean was never very good at telling when she was messing with him.

“You’re terrible.” Armin snorted and nudged her and she put her elbow on his shoulder.

“This is a beautiful thing you two have right here,” Jean motioned between them. “The friendship between a man and his hag, it’s quite stunning really.”

“Ugh,” Mikasa rolled her eyes.

“We’re leaving for lunch and no, you can’t come with us. Have fun on your blind date!” Armin waved.

“I will,” Jean assured him, then because he had no shame, “I mean, unless you want to go out instead?”

“Boy, I can’t tell if you’re desperate or stupid!” Armin waved him off.

“Which is sexier?” Jean laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back with a dazzling smile.

“Ew.”

<*>

Maria’s Italian Eatery was dead as a doornail on a Tuesday night. He entered and decided to wait for his date to arrive rather than catch a table and sit by himself.

“Can I get you a drink from the bar while you wait, sir?” the blonde waitress asked.

“Yes,” he said automatically, then reconsidered it, he didn’t want his mystery suitor to think he was a lush. “Wait, no, sorry.”

Jean began jiggling his knee anxiously and then got out his phone pretending to check Facebook. When the door opened again, Jean grabbed a menu and held it over his face. If he didn’t like what he saw, he could casually slide out of his seat and head for the door.

“Hey Annie,” the new customer greeted.

Jean didn’t dare look over the menu at his face but curiosity got the better of him so he peeked around the side. There was a jingling of keys as the newcomer twirled them around his index finger and slapped them into his palm. Why was that familiar?

“You!” Jean blurted out.

“Oh look, it’s Mr. Big City!” Eren hailed, leaning over him. “What’re you doin’ back in town? You didn’t kill someone just so you could meet me again for their funeral, did ya?”

“What?” Jean didn’t follow. “No. For your information, I live here now.”

Eren threw his head back and laughed and Jean scowled.

“What are you even doing here?” Jean asked.

“Me? What am I doing here? In my hometown?” Eren asked mockingly, the implication being that this was his town not Jean’s and he was most unwelcome.

“No, here, right now, where I can see your ugly mug,” Jean shot back. Nice one Jean, you sound like a cartoon gangster villain. Yeah, see, yeah, I don’t wanna catch your mug around here no more, see? Yeah.

“I have a hot date,” Eren said smugly.

Ah, now that he mentioned it, Eren was wearing what must have been his nicest pair of blue jeans and a button down shirt that was only slightly wrinkled. Not as nice as the crumpled suit he’d worn to his brief appearance at Marco’s funeral, but a step up from greasy coveralls.

“What are you doing here?” Eren asked. “Drinking alone?”

“I have a date too!” Jean said, standing up and smoothing out his shirt.

“Oh yeah?” Eren raised a bushy brow and looked around. “I don’t see ‘em.”

“They just texted to say they’re on their way,” Jean lied.

He didn’t know why he did that. Lie. Always lying. He could make up a lie on the spot without any provocation. His first week in Sina at age 13 he told everyone his dad was an astronaut for chrissake—not that anyone believed him.

“Well, enjoy your date,” Eren said, swinging his arms.

The waitress reappeared.

“Hey Annie, can I get a table for—“

“I would like your best table!” Jean interrupted Eren loudly.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“I was here first, I should get first pick of tables,” Jean said, putting both elbows on the host desk and nudging Eren’s off.

“Well then you shoulda asked for it first! I’d like a table by the windows—“

“No, I would like a table by the windows!” Jean insisted, blocking Eren from Annie’s view.

Eren huffed and the two glared at one another. Annie the waitress looked between them with a bored expression and then back at the completely empty restaurant. She grabbed a menu.

“This way, sir,” she motioned to Jean, who tossed a self-satisfied grin over his shoulder.

He sank into a large booth and she set down two menus before going to seat Eren.

“No thank you!” Eren said at the table she offered him, which was next to Jean’s. “It’s a little drafty over here!”

She rolled her eyes and seated him further away. They were still directly across from one another if on opposite ends of the room.

“Hm,” Eren hummed into his hand.

“What?” Jean snapped, setting down his menu.

“Oh me?” Eren asked, tapping one hand to his breast. “Nothin’.”

He went back to examining his menu.

“What?” Jean repeated, growing angrier by the moment.

“Oh, it’s just I noticed you picked a booth.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I mean, it’s a bit like the backseat of a car, innit?”

“You know what—“ Jean slammed his menu down, but was interrupted by Annie’s appearance with a water pitcher. “Thanks. Could you fill my date’s glass as well? I’m sure they’ll be here any minute now.”

He placed heavy emphasis on that and was proud to see Eren scowl. Now if his date could actually get here, that would be great. And hopefully they were better looking than Eren the mechanic.

Several minutes later all of the ice in the glass across from Jean had melted. Eren had his chin in his hand and was playing with the candle on his table. Jean thought, fuck it, and summoned Annie over for a Tempranillo.

“Anything for you?” he heard her ask Eren.

“Yeah, Makers and Pepsi, please.”

Jean snorted.

“Anyone ever tell you when you make that noise you sound like a horse chompin’ at the bit?” Eren rounded on him.

“It’s just if you’re going to order a Makers why would you ruin it with Pepsi?” Jean asked, thumbing at his phone.

“I see your date still isn’t here!” Eren accused, changing the subject as his ears turned pink.

“And neither is yours. Nice to know he isn’t missing much but your JC Penney shirt.”

Eren looked down at his shirt self-consciously and rolled the napkin in his lap.

“Is there another Italian place around here? Maybe he got the place mixed up.”

“You know what?” Eren said suddenly. “Who cares if my things arn’t as nice as yours!”

“Yeah, sure,” Jean thumbed through Yelp attempting to locate where his date might be and desperately hoping he was just running…what was it now…45 minutes late?

“I’ll have you know—“ Eren continued, shouting from the other side of the restaurant.

“Ugh, Pizza Hut does not count as Italian…” Jean muttered to his phone. “I can’t believe—“

“—that I picked this restaurant because it’s the nicest in town!”

“—that this dump is the nicest restaurant in town.”

Eren gaped like a goldfish before folding his arms angrily in front of his chest.

“Sorry, what were you shouting about?” Jean asked, setting down his phone.

Annie brought out their drinks and Jean took a sip but when he looked up, Eren had hopped tables so he was closer.

“You know, just because you’re from the city and you drive a real expensive car don’t mean you’re better than me. I mean, I work in a garage, but I make good money! And yeah, on the weekends I like to go trout fishin’ and play paintball with my friends, but that don’t mean I ain’t smart.”

“’That doesn’t mean, I’m not smart,’” Jean corrected. “Hey, I’m starving. What’s good to get here?”

“An’ I won’t stand for you—oh. Just about everything!” Eren said enthusiastically, his love of food overriding his annoyance. “What d’ya like? Pasta? Surf n’ turf? They got—“

“Oh man there’s this surf n’ turf combo at my favorite restaurant back in New York with these tobacco onions and bourbon demi-glace and truffle mashed potatoes and it’s just heaven.”

“Huh?” Eren wrinkled his peeling nose in confusion.

Jean got out his phone and sent a quick text to Reiner.

[Jean:] looks like your guy is a no-show. :/

Eren shook his head and waved Annie over and placed an order. Jean did his best to ignore Eren but then Annie brought out the most wonderful smelling dish and his nose turned his head before he could stop it.

Eren happily tucked his napkin into his neck and humming to himself he picked up a single rib.

“Can I help you?” he asked as Jean had slipped down from his booth and into the table closer to Eren’s.

“What’s that?” Jean asked.

“Ribs.”

“I thought this was an Italian place?”

“I-talian got ribs, ain’t they?” Eren asked in annoyance. Except he pronounced it “eye-talians” and they might for all Jean knew but that was some impressive Southern cooking, the kind that Jean dreamt about back in New York.

Jean watched Eren lift the delicious bone to his mouth, his own slightly open.

“If you wanna try them so bad, just order a plate yourself.”

“That’s rude. I’m waiting for my date.” Then as Eren bit into the rib, he added, “I’m starving.”

“Here—“ Eren offered, holding out one for Jean to taste.

“I couldn’t possibly—“ Jean said, but took the proffered item, scooting into the table between them. “Oh my god.”

“Right?”

“Oh my god.” Jean sighed. “I don’t even see this on the menu.”

“Flip it over.”

“Maria’s Italian Eatery,” Jean read from the front and flipped it over. “And Mike’s Kitchen. What the hell is this place?”

“The best restaurant in town, I told you,” Eren said smugly.

More like a restaurant with an identity crisis. Jean summoned Annie over and ordered a side of sweet potato fries.

“Can I have a fry?” Eren asked, leaning over and looking at Jean’s fries covetously.

“No.”

“Why not? I let you have a rib!”

“Because no one can ever have just one fry.”

“Please?”

When Annie returned, they were both seated at the four-top in the center, stealing fries and ribs from one another and placed an order of crab legs, margherita pizza, and some hushpuppies to split and another round of drinks.

“Those your tables?” Bert the bartender asked Annie as she came back to enter the order in the POS system.

“Yup.”

“What are they even doing?” he asked as he dried a glass looking at the five tables the two had dirtied.

“These two morons are on a blind date with one another and don’t know it yet,” Annie said tucking her tray under her arm.

Jean’s pocket buzzed.

[Reiner:] really? he sounded really excited when i talked to him about it.

[Jean:] don’t worry about it.

“Tasty tasty ribs,” Eren sang to his plate.

“I agree, very good,” Jean said, setting his down.

“You call that picked clean? You gotta gnaw that bone—here, let me show you.”

Eren grabbed the discarded bone from Jean’s plate and began aggressively sucking the meat off. Jean snorted.

“You’re very good at sucking on that bone.”

“Fuck off. This is serious business. Still leavin’ meat on the bones…hurts my soul.”

“You have made a right ole’ mess there,” Jean indicated Eren’s fingers, mimicking Eren’s pattern of speech.

“Ah, it’s worth it. But my boss, you know Levi?”

“Yeah, I remember him,” Jean said darkly.

“He hates ribs. He pulls the meat off with a fork and knife and stacks the bones in a lil’ log cabin. He uses like ten wet wipes a meal. Ah, my phone—hold on—“

[Reiner:] dude, where are you?

[Eren:] etin ribs. hans stiky. cant typo. no date.

“Sorry,” Eren apologized. “It’s rude to be on your phone during dinner I know.”

“Huh?” Jean asked, scrolling through his phone and Eren rolled his eyes.

[Reiner:] he says he’s there. are you sure you’re in the right place?

[Jean:] is it the weird italian/ribshack combo restaurant? because yes, i’m sure.

[Reiner:] well look around! do you see him?

[Jean:] there’s no one here!

Jean tucked his phone away and shook his head.

“Sorry, my friend set me up on a date and they never showed so…yeah.”

“Yeah, I was stood up too.”

“What’s good for dessert?”

“Pepsi cake!” Eren said excitedly.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Pepsi. Cake.”

“Aw, but I wanted the tiramisu,” Jean frowned. “I’ll give you half of my tiramisu if you give me half of your Pepsi cake?”

“Deal. Wait! Which half of the tiramisu? I don’t want to be stuck with only ladyfingers.”

“Half, like cut in half, I’m not going to dissect the layers just to screw you. And also, the ladyfingers are the best part.”

[Reiner:] what are you wearing?

[Eren:] whoa now. you been drinkin?

[Reiner:] no pervert. he says he’s there and i’m trying to help him find you.

[Eren:] iunno jeans and a shirt.

“Well, I guess that is what a Pepsi cake would taste like,” Jean said wiping his mouth after a few bites.

“Good, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t finish it.”

“Everything tasting great here gentlemen?” Annie asked, taking their plates.

“Yeah, can we get our checks please?” Jean asked. “And a box?”

“Separate checks?”

“Yes,” they both answered.

“Well, I mean, we did sortof share everything,” Jean scratched his head.

“Down the middle?” Eren suggested.

“Could you split it down the middle?” Jean asked.

[Reiner:] hey, i know you’re working but i need help. is eren at the restaurant? bc I set him up with a date and they can’t seem to find each other.

[Annie:] oh eren is here.

[Reiner:] great! now do you see a skinny guy with the sides of his shaved? sortof blond on top, dark underneath? i think he got lost.

“Ha!” Eren laughed, looking at Jean’s credit receipt. “What kind of name is Jean?”

Except he pronounced it like “blue jean,” or Gene Hackman, not Jean.

“It’s French, asshole. And it’s pronounced like ʒã.”

Eren, who had been laughing and tucking his card into his wallet, suddenly stopped and went, “Uh oh.”

[Annie:] oh yeah, they’re both here. they’ve been arguing and complaining the entire night that their dates haven’t shown up.

[Reiner:] …

[Reiner:] unbelievable.

“How could you be so stupid?” Jean said waving his arms at Eren.

“Me?” Eren asked incredulously, the peace from their shared meal shattered. “How in the hell was I supposed to know that “John” meant you? I didn’t know your first name! You knew mine! What’s your excuse?”

“Uh, your name is Eren, my date was with—“ Jean pulled out the stickynote. “Aaron—“

He stopped because he heard it and began slowly turning pink. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“All this time you’ve been calling me dumb, but—“ Eren ranted, hot on Jean’s heels.

“I can’t believe Reiner would try and set me up with you!” Jean shook his head. “He said you were good-looking!”

“He said you were funny!’” Eren shot back.

“You’re not even close to my type!”

“That is hilarious because I’m pretty sure I was your type when you solicited me for a ‘ride’ your car. An’ your car, by the way, is the only likeable thing about you!”

“Please! Don’t flatter yourself. You spent the entire time giving me bj-eyes—“

“Do you even hear yourself?” Eren said, his shoes scraping the pavement and he tugged at his hair. “You’re just pissed because I turned you down! And yeah, I was thinking about sucking you off right up until the part where you ruined it by opening your big fat mouth! Acting like I owed you one, acting like you were better than me, acting like I was just small town garbage!”

“Why are you crying?” Jean asked bewildered.

“I cry when I’m upset!” Eren shouted, squeezing his eyes shut so hard, little droplets flew out at the corners. “It was going great and then you went and…”

“And what?” Jean asked exasperatedly.

“And did what you do!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore. If you were so set on fucking me then I don’t know why you got mad when I asked you. You just like getting mad.”

“Here’s the rest of your fucking Pepsi cake!” Eren shouted, scooping it up with his fingers and hurling it at Jean’s head.

It missed its mark but hit him in the shoulder.

“Wow, that’s really fucking mature,” Jean shouted after Eren’s retreating figure, brushing cake off of his shirt.

“Y’know Marco always saw the best in people!” Eren called, walking backwards across the road. “I don’t.”

<*>

Jean spent the night scrolling through Marco’s Facebook page. His mother had left it up as a memorial site and Marco’s page was just as busy as it had been when he was alive from friends and family leaving condolence messages.

“Six months and I still can’t believe you’re gone :(“ Krista wrote.

“Happy Birthday man, wish you could have been here to celebrate with us,” wrote Connie.

Jean scrolled back even further, past all of the RIPs, past all of the “get better soon!” until he found the last post Marco made.

There was a picture of a beat up looking turtle with yellow spots held in Marco’s freckled hands

“Everyone say hello to Bean! Bean is the newest member of the Bodt family! Eren found this guy after he had been hit by a car, but he’s all patched up now thanks to Sina Veterinary Hospital!”

Jean knew that fucking turtle, it was sitting in one of Marco’s siblings rooms, living a very happy life on meal worms and sunning himself under the heat lamp.

“yeah but now my truck smells like turtle piss :///” Eren had written in the comments.

Jean clicked through, looking at pictures of Marco. Marco at prom in a large group picture…and there was Eren as Mikasa’s date, younger and smiling with dimples. Jean looked through a few more of Marco and Eren. Jean hadn’t really kept up on Marco’s life when he moved away or after they finished college. Marco was content being the town vet and Jean was busy raking in the big bucks in New York. Jean just assumed Marco hung out with the same kids they had in middle school.

[Jean:] so what’s the deal with Eren?

[Reiner:] what do you mean?

[Jean:] was he in our grade? or?

[Reiner:] naw, he enrolled the year after you left. mostly he hangs out with Armin and Mikasa. he’s fun but he can get a little intense. he’s mellowed out quite a bit since hs.

Curiosity got the better of him and his fingers tripped over to Eren’s Facebook page. He was popular. Much more popular than Jean had ever been. He was friends with most of the town and his wall was peppered with friends asking to hangout. Jean realized he was jealous. When he had moved away, Eren had replaced him. Everyone had moved on and forgotten about ole’ Jeanbo. It wasn’t as if he expected the world to stop when he moved away, but damnit he had hoped it would have slowed down just a bit!

What if he hadn’t moved away, what if he had died instead? Would there be the same outpouring of support and emotion on his page? Probably not.

He looked at Eren’s most recent status update: “really shitty day. don’t want to talk about it.”

No kidding.