Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“If you want the best and fastest, go to Hannes’ garage and ask for Levi,” Connie told Jean. “But don’t talk to Levi. If possible, try to avoid looking at Levi.”

“He’s not that bad,” Sasha said, coming up behind her husband. “Don’t listen to him. Hannes’ garage is the best. Take it there and we’ll see you in a few hours.”

Every year tourists would flock down the coast and flood the small town of Sina. Jean had been one of those tourists, back when his parents were still together. Then, one day they called it quits and suddenly, for one painful growing year, Jean was a townie. That year, when he was thirteen going on fourteen, had been the best and worst year of his life. That was the year he lost all of his city friends and gained a whole set of new friends, the kind of friends you have for life. That was the year he confessed to his best friend Marco that he liked guys and after one awkward and wet kiss Marco said he didn’t but that was okay they could still be friends. Jean moved away before the next school year and he didn’t see Marco again until they stumbled into each other on college campus. And like that they were best friends again.

Jean didn’t know why he drove the car down instead of take a Greyhound. Actually, he did know. He wanted to show everyone from the small town that he was no longer the same dork whose mom dropped off his forgotten lunch on the first day of school. But in so doing, he realized he had become one of those fudgies who only showed up for the beach, ice cream, and fudge. When he pulled his foreign make car into the Springer’s driveway, only then did it dawn on him that this was a bad idea. Sasha excitedly told him she’d made up the guest bedroom for him and when Jean told her that he’d already made a reservation at a hotel, the look on her face crushed him. He had just wanted to show everyone he was making good, not flaunt his wealth. He cancelled the reservation and spent the night on the pull-out futon that made up the guest bed, smelling the floral sheets and staring at his cellphone.

The next morning, as Jean started up the car to grab some donuts for everyone, Connie pointed out that Jean’s lights didn’t work. Now he was forced to go to some dirty local garage to get the car checked out. They probably had never seen a model like Jean’s before, let alone touched one.

“Hey, I called in earlier about getting my headlights replaced?” he told the secretary, who was buffing her nails and looking very disinterested.

“Sorry, Petra’s on her break. What can I do for ya?” a voice called from around the counter and a man with grease stained coveralls and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes waved him over.

“Both of my headlights are out so I’d like them both replaced,” Jean said, walking over with his hands in his suit pockets.

“Both of ‘em?” the man wrinkled his nose.

Jean caught sight of ‘Eren’ written on the patch on his uniform or maybe it was ‘Elen,’ it was hard to tell with that grease smudge.

“When did they go out? Because what you actually might need is—“

“Right, I’m going to stop you right there,” Jean cut him off dismissively. “I’m not some dumb idiot with a flashy car who can be talked into a new set of tires or a fan belt that doesn’t fit right so I have to get replaced when I get back to the city.”

“I wasn’t—“

“I know it’s your job, but don’t upsell me. Don’t even try. Just replace the lights.”

“It’s just that the lights run at $1500 a pop and instead you—“

“I know how much the lights cost. Just give me that.”

“But, instead—“

“Look, I don’t want your greasy redneck hands even looking under the hood. Do we understand?”

“Hey!” the attendant shouted, growing heated. “I’m only saying that—“

“Jaeger!” snapped a short and angry looking man, coming around the corner. “What have I told you about arguing with the customers, eh? I am sorry, sir. My assistant, he is…how you say, not so big on the brains, eh?”

The man gave a thin, wolfish grin, wiping off his hands on a towel. Jean figured this must be Levi.

“Now what is it you need?”

“He says both of his—“

“Idiot!” the man said in a heavy eastern Slavic accent, so the ‘o’ stretched out nice and long, snapping his towel at Eren.

Eren pursed his lips and wiped his nose on his sleeve in embarrassment.

“I need both of the headlights replaced on my Maserati. I was told you have the parts. I will pay the cost of the headlights and labor, but no more. I’m tired of places tacking on unnecessary prices. It’s like you vultures see an expensive car and immediately come up with ten other things to add to the bill. I’m a very busy person and I’ve got places to be!”

“I apologize for my employee. I will do the job myself. Here, sit, sit. Have some coffee, my wife made it. It tastes like shit, I apologize. You can watch me through that window right there. I will be careful with your baby.”

“But Boss—“ Eren started again.

“Ah!” he cut him off. “The gentleman wants his lights replaced, I do that. You! Brat! Clean something! And you—“ he pointed at the woman doing her nails. “Coffee!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Eren looked frustrated and followed him through the door and Jean could see him arguing through the glass.

“Coffee?” the woman asked in a bored voice.

He accepted. It tasted like shit.

Eren lost the argument and Jean smirked as he went and got a broom to sweep up a different part of the shop, tail between his legs. Levi was quick and wiped away even the smallest of fingerprints with a clean towel.

“See? New headlights! No hassle! All good,” Levi said, and Jean had to admit he was impressed.

Eren stood behind his boss, sulking.

“Now, my wife will ring you…Petra!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled and brought out the invoice.

Jean handed her his card and she ran it through and he signed, Eren glowering in a corner the entire time.

Yet when Jean went to go start the car, he flicked the lights on and…nothing happened. He stormed back up to the counter.

“What the hell?” he shouted. “They’re not working!”

“You said you wanted headlights replaced. I replace,” Levi said, shrugging.

Eren snorted, barely hiding his laughter, and his boss elbowed him in the ribs.

“I just paid a lot of money!” Jean waved his arms. “I want them fixed.”

“Oh!” Levi said, faking shock. “You want them to turn on?”

“Yes!” Jean said exasperatedly.

He was tired of angry hicks and ex-Soviets jerking him around.

“Here,” Eren said to Jean, taking pity on him and hiding his smirk.

He walked around the counter and grabbed a $3 box of fuses. In a matter of seconds, he replaced the dead fuse in Jean’s Maserati and then flicked all the lights on. Furious, embarrassed, and flushed up to his ears, Jean could only shake in rage.

“I—you—“

“You’re welcome,” Eren said simply.

“I want a refund!” Jean blurted out.

“I want my money back!”

“Pfft, no. You wanted the lights replaced so that’s what you got. But hey, we’ll throw in the box of fuses for free,” Eren laughed, putting his hand on his hips.

Levi let out a low growl.

“No, we will. We will,” Eren insisted and Levi rolled his shoulders and mumbled a reluctant affirmative.

“Fuck you. Fuck this fucking backwards town and fuck you,” Jean shouted flipping twin birds before hopping in the car and gunning it.

He was still fuming three miles later when his wheel snagged a pothole and popped a good ten miles out from the church.

“Why?” he sighed, putting his head down on the steering wheel before dialing AAA.

<*>

The phone rang inside the dead garage and at first Levi ignored it, intent on mopping up a streak of oil, but then, when he could no longer stand the sound, he stomped into the clean white room and picked up the phone, glaring at the red-haired woman blowing on her nails.

“Levi,” he snapped to the person on the other end. “Right.”

He hung up and then shouted.

“Eren!”

“Yeah boss?”

“You got a call out. Go. GO!” he waved and Eren ran to put away his tools.

“And you,” Levi said in a low rumble to Petra as Eren grabbed the keys behind her. “What I pay you for? Hm? Would it kill you to answer the phone?”

“You pay me squat to sit here and look beautiful,” she replied unconcernedly, filing her nails and popping her gum.

“Maybe I should give you raise?” he said, catching her chin.

Eren rolled his eyes and shook his head, closing the door on Petra’s giggle as he hopped in the Hannes’ tow truck.

<*>

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jean said recognizing the grease stained hat and coveralls behind the tow truck wheel.

“Well ain’t this somethin’,” Eren said, looking incredibly smug.

“I didn’t call you, I called AAA, so you just move on and I’ll wait,” Jean waved.

“You called AAA and AAA called me,” Eren drawled.

“Fuck, well then get on with it,” Jean waved, checking his phone and letting out a sigh.

Eren set up the jack and Jean paced.

“Hey, how long is this gonna take?” Jean asked, leaning over Eren.

The mechanic looked up at Jean, squinting against the sun and Jean realized that beneath that grimy cap of his, he had thick, dark eyelashes (to match his caterpillar brows, Jean thought derisively) and extraordinarily bright green eyes. The fact that his new nemesis was extremely good looking only served to anger Jean further.

“Why you got someplace you need to be?” Eren asked, flashing a toothy grin. “You city folk. Gotta go, gotta move.”

“Yeah, I got somewhere to be!” Jean said, now actually anxious he might not make it on time.

“Where is this somewhere?” Eren asked and Jean thought he heard him mutter, “A douchebag convention?”

“A…church,” Jean said, scratching the back of his neck, hoping he wasn’t getting a sunburn.

“You going to a wedding, Mr. Kirstein?” Eren cheeked.

“Ha, no. I wish,” now it was Jean’s turn to mumble. “A funeral.”

Eren peeked up at him from the brim of his hat.

“Ah, sorry to hear that. Someone you were close to?”

“My best friend actually,” Jean shrugged.

“Ah.” Eren tongued at the corner of his mouth.

Eren was quiet for a bit, focused on his work, and Jean wasn’t inclined to interrupt him. He kept checking his phone for the time, growing more and more agitated.

“Uh oh,” Eren said.

“What? No ‘uh oh!’ What?”

“Well you’re out of alignment. Must have happened when you caught the edge of the pavement here.”

“And?”

“I’m not gonna be able to get the spare on. I’ll need to take ‘er in.”

“This is just fucking perfect,” Jean cursed.

“Hey, the funeral in’t for another hour at least,” Eren said, hopping up. “And it’s a quick fix. Levi will have ‘er up and ready in plenty time to get there.”

Jean didn’t ask how he knew when the funeral was. It was a small town. It was likely everyone knew.

“I told his mother I’d get there early to help set up,” Jean said, kicking a rock, scuffing his new shoes.

“Hey, how about I get her up on the rig here and I can drop you off at the church. Then when you get out I’ll have it ready for ya. Sound good?”

Jean grunted but agreed. He was over a barrel here.

Eren dropped Jean off on the church steps and Jean watched the tow truck drive away with the most expensive item he owned, hoping he hadn’t just been robbed.

He helped Marco’s younger siblings set up a stand full of pictures of Marco and then stood next to his mother greeting and thanking people for making it. The organist started up the music and halfway through the first hymn, Jean saw people sneaking in the back. He turned a little to the side, holding the hymnal to his chest and caught sight of Levi, Petra, and a few others from the shop shuffle in. Jean’s mother turned to look as well. Levi gave a curt nod and Mrs. Bodt returned it. Then, just like that, the group slid out of the pews and left. They stepped around Eren as he entered. He’d cleaned up some. He surprised Jean by wearing a suit and he’d removed his hat, but there was still a dent in his wild, dark locks. He sought out Jean in the crowd and when he found him he waved, shaking Jean’s keys in his hand.

No. Please no.

Eren made to toss them.

Don’t you dare.

He threw them underhand just as the song finished and Jean snatched them out of the air in a loud clang. People turned to stare. Flushed up to his eyebrows, Jean shoved them in his pocket before realizing it was the same pocket as his phone. Father Nick eyed them both with a severe expression. Jean switched the pocket the keys were in and then turned forward only to turn around again as Eren reached a hand out behind Jean to tap Mrs. Bodt’s shoulder.

Jean glared, but Mrs. Bodt appeared delighted, hugging him and cupping Eren’s boyish face in her hands and kissing him on the cheek. Father Nick fixed Eren with a death glare.

“I can’t believe Jaeger made it,” Jean heard Connie mutter across the aisle.

Jean sized up Eren, who grinned and gave Jean a thumbs up, then jerked his head in greeting at Connie and Sasha and the rest of Jean and Marco’s high school friends. Sasha bounced the baby who waved toothlessly at Eren.

Father Nick started on a long biblical passage and Jean checked the church program and sighed when he realized this was only one of several very long sermons, none of which had anything to do with Marco or his life.

“Let us pray,” Father Nick instructed.

Jean bowed his head, but turned a little to the side so he could inspect Eren behind him. To his surprise Eren was staring straight at him. Wordlessly, Eren thumbed at the doors. Jean cast a look around. No one was looking. Save for Father Nick who was staring down both of them. Jean took a sideways step. Father Nick’s eyes narrowed. Jean leaned, the majority of his torso out of the pew. Father Nick didn’t pause his sermon, but he did turn his head slightly to the side. But Eren was already in the aisle, backing up for the door. Jean’s weight finally forced him to stumble to the side and he chased out after Eren.

“Man, I thought Father Nick was gonna swallow me whole,” Eren laughed as the heavy doors shut on them. He tugged his tie open and threw his suitcoat into the tow truck.

“You? He was glaring at me!” Jean protested. “I’ll hear about it for sure when I go back in there.”

“Naw, he hates me. I’m still technically not allowed in from that time I broke into the kitchen and got drunk on the communion wine. He’ll just chalk it up to my bad influence.”

Jean chuckled.

“Here, your baby is over here,” Eren jerked his head. “Levi was able to patch up your tire, so you’re not stuck driving on the spare, but if I were you I’d replace all of them when you get back to the city. We fixed the alignment.”

“Great. How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Eren shrugged. “Figure you’d had enough of a shitty day already.”

“Ha. Yeah. Well…thanks. That’s decent of you.”

“No, thank you!” Eren said, suddenly bright. “I’ve never gotten to even touch one of these, let alone drive one!”

He realized what he’d said and flushed.

“I mean, that was the fastest way to get ‘er here. Don’t worry, Mr. Kirstein, I took it nice and easy.”

Eren looked up at Jean hoping he wasn’t angry with him, his bottom lip in his teeth and a tinge of pink across his cheeks. And Jean couldn’t help be amused that a person his age called him “Mr. Kirstein.”

“Wanna go again?” Jean asked suddenly.

“What?” Eren blinked.

Jean tossed him the keys.

“They’re gonna be a while, right?”

“Hell yeah!” Eren said excitedly.

He quickly rolled up his sleeves, giving Jean a nice look at his tan forearms. Then he slowly slid behind the wheel with an audible moan and Jean chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“Now I assume you know how to drive a stick but—“ Jean felt his head slap the headrest as Eren peeled out.

“Oh yeah!” Eren let out a whoop. “I know how to handle ‘er real good.”

Despite the way he gunned it out of the church parking lot, Eren was a cautious driver. Jean rolled down the window and leaned his head out, drinking in the warm air. He let his hand ride on the gusts of air streaming by his window, splaying his fingers and feeling the wind pass on through.

“How fast you get ‘er up to?” Eren asked.

“Uhhh, I think 90 once. But that’s it.” Jean wasn’t exactly a speed demon.

Eren eyed the expanse of smooth country road and flashed Jean a roguish grin that Jean didn't quite grasp the meaning of until he watched the needle on the speedometer climb higher and higher.

“Eren,” Jean said, shifting uncomfortably.

Eren let out a hellcat whoop.

“Eren!” Jean said, grabbing the window frame.

“Yeah! Fuck yeah!” Eren yelled. “You ready?”

“EREN!” Jean shouted, bracing himself.

“Hold on!” Eren said, letting up on the clutch with the throttle down at the same time.

He jerked the wheel to the side and then Jean saw the whole world spin on its axis and he screwed his eyes shut. Jean was only vaguely aware that he was screaming and only when the car had ceased moving did he stop. He opened his eyes one at a time to see Eren grinning at him, the car purring happily under his direction.

“That was amazing,” Jean said hoarsely. “Do it again.”

The second time, Jean leaned back in his chair screaming with laughter as Eren hollered and whooped. Every time Eren drifted, Jean felt his stomach drop in delight, like the first dip of a rollercoaster, then catch up in a rush of pleasure and fuck if that didn’t go all the way to his cock.

“Okay, okay,” Eren gasped with laughter as Jean writhed breathless in his seat. “Last one?”

“Please!” Jean begged.

Jean had gotten the car purely for aesthetic purposes, but under Eren’s hands it was a beast. And the way Eren slid his palm over the stick before allowing each finger to wrap around was stirring Jean’s belly in a different way. The kid was a maniac, sure, but goddamn if he didn’t know how to fucking drive.

Eren started gunning it again and Jean leaned back watching the sweat trickle down from his hairline past his ear and disappear under his shirt collar. There was still a smudge of grease on the underside of his chin. He tossed a look over at Jean, who was breathing shallowly, throat tight as the trees and fence posts began speeding by in a blur. Without warning, he grabbed Jean’s hand and positioned it over the stick.

“Ready?” Eren shouted, his palm hot and heavy over Jean’s.

Jean only nodded.

“Now!”

Eren and Jean pulled together and then the red farm at the end of the road was suddenly in their rearview mirror. Eren let out a howl like a wolf, releasing Jean’s hand and Jean laughed with him and would have continued if the sudden blip of a police car hadn’t ruined their fun.

“Shit,” Eren hissed, looking over his shoulder in a panic.

“It’s okay, relax,” Jean said. “Keep your hands on the wheel where he can see them.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eren continued in a little whimper. “Afternoon, Officer Dawk.”

“Eren, what did I tell you about taking your boyfriends out for spins in the garage cars, hm?” Officer Dawk said, removing his Aviator’s, leaving small marks on the bridge of his nose. “What do you think Levi is going to do when he finds out you’re out spinning donuts in his customer’s cars? He won’t let you work at the garage anymore that’s for sure.”

Eren gulped.

“Uh, sorry officer, it’s my car,” Jean volunteered, waving. “I asked Eren to drive.”

Eren smiled nervously and Officer Dawk peered inside.

“You sober?” the officer asked.

“Of course, sir,” Jean answered truthfully, taken aback by the question.

“Plates are from New York, what brings you down here?” Officer Dawk continued.

“Uh, a funeral, sir.”

“Ah, right. Sad thing that. Family?”

“Best friend,” Jean gave a wan smile.

“Wait, you Peggy Kirstein’s little boy?”

“Yes, I am,” Jean said and then he vaguely remembered his mother mentioning a date with a police officer in the past. Ew. Please no.

Officer Dawk appeared to be deciding something.

“Well boys, I understand that with a lot of death around you feel the need to do a little livin’ but your friend has a mother and you out here isn’t helpin’ her. You understand?”

Not really.

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“You got someplace you should be,” Officer Dawk continued as Eren and Jean put on identical contrite faces.

Eren made to start up the car but Officer Dawk stopped him.

“Eren, boy, were I your father or Hannes I would have whooped your ass. If I catch you out here again, I’m throwin’ your turkeyneck behind bars, you hear? You’re too old for this shit. Thought having a friend like Marco woulda done you some good. Is that how you want to honor his memory? By acting like a teenage jerkoff? You’re not driving, give the man his keys back.”

Eren put his head down and slid into the passenger side, chewing on his dirty nails. Only when Jean started up and cruised at exactly the speed limit, with Officer Dawk following closely behind them, did he finally breathe.

“I can’t believe it.”

“I think that guy fucked my mom,” Jean said wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Sucks,” Eren nodded sympathetically.

They pulled into the church parking lot and Officer Dawk drove off.

“I should probably go back,” Jean said after a few moments, turning off the idling car.

“Yeah,” Eren nodded in agreement.

They were silent.

“Thanks…for getting me out of there,” Jean said quietly.

“Thanks for getting me out of trouble with the pigs. And for letting me drive. I just can’t believe it. I finally got to drive one of these. Levi won’t let me work on the expensive cars. This is my first time even sitting in one!”

He tangled his fingers in his windswept hair and gave Jean that same aw shucks smile and Jean remembered how Eren’s fingers felt over his own minutes earlier. Feeling a little dangerous and reckless, Jean gave a cocksure grin.

“Want to make it your first time fucking in one?”

It was crass and bold and Jean knew it was a risk, so he half-expected rejection, but what he didn’t expect was the slow way Eren’s smile was wiped from his mouth.

“Huh?” Eren asked in a little laugh, confused as if he thought Jean was making fun of him.

“I’ve got time, it’s like what…another twenty minutes of service left? Let’s fuck.”

Any hint of humor was gone from Eren’s face. His eyes darted around the empty parking lot and his fingers drifted over to the door handle.

“I mean I’m only in town for tonight and then I head back for New York so we should have some fun.”

“Yeah…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why, you got a boyfriend? I don’t mind, I’ll be discreet,” Jean said allowing a smirk to hide his nerves.

He was putting his foot in it, he knew, but what did he care? He didn’t need to prove himself to Eren the mechanic of all people.

“C’mon, you’re hot. I don’t like you and you don’t like me, it’s the perfect set up.”

Disgust had now crept into Eren’s face.

“Perfect set up for what?” Eren asked, wrinkling his nose again.

“Hooking up,” Jean continued. There was a flush starting to creep up his neck and he really hoped Eren thought it was a sunburn.

Eren let out a laugh. It rocked all the way through his body and he clutched his hand to his chest. He opened the door and got out still tittering.

“What’s so funny?” Jean asked heatedly, leaning over to shout at Eren through the window.

Eren grabbed his cap from the cab of the tow truck and adjusted it over his dark locks.

“What?”

“You got problems, man. You’re pretty fucked up.”

What? He was fucked up?

“Fuck you!” Jean stuttered. “I don’t have to take that from some dumb hick who watched too much Dukes of Hazzard as a kid and drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on his dick.”

Eren howled with laughter.

“Hey! I make a fuckton of money, own my own apartment and this car! What the fuck do you do, huh? Who the fuck are you?”

Eren didn’t answer, he simply started up the noisy tow truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The moment the rumbling passed, Jean realized it was just him alone. He put his head against the steering wheel for a few moments, before dragging himself back into the church. He slid back into the pew and Mrs. Bodt slid her arm around him and rubbed at his back.

Connie and Sasha looked around at him.

“You okay?” Connie mouthed.

Jean nodded.

He must have looked like he had been crying, he realized. Not taking a joy ride with a former altar boy. He had just spent a good part of his best friend’s funeral trying to get laid. He stared at the hymnal, eyes blurring until all of the notes ran together. The burial followed the service and then the wake. He shook hands and washed the dishes for Mrs. Bodt and helped collect the flowers from the church.

“Ah Jean,” Mrs. Bodt said appreciatively. “You look exhausted. I’m sorry we couldn’t have you here. My aunt can’t stay at a hotel.”

“It’s fine, Connie and Sasha are putting me up.”

“Next time you come to visit I’ll make up a room special for you.”

“Thanks.”

But he wasn’t likely to visit again. Now that Marco was gone, there was truly no reason to come back.

Tucked into bed, Jean couldn’t sleep. He kept checking his phone, time slowly crawling along, listening to Sasha and Connie’s cats fight in the living room. He opened Facebook and checked the chat.

[Marco:] hey, what’s up?

[Jean:] nm, about to head out and get happy hour with some coworkers. what’s up with you?

[Marco:] nm, left work early.

[Jean:] :O

[Marco:] i have a killer headache. ://

[Jean:] sucks.

[Marco:] yeah if it doesn’t get any better tomorrow, ima go see the doctor

[Jean:] okay, we’re heading out, feel better!

[Marco:] cool, have fun!

And that was the last time they talked, nearly three months ago. That’s all it took for an aneurysm to burst in Marco’s brain. His family kept him on life support for a few months but pulled the plug last week and now Marco’s heart was beating in some Virginian 14 year old girl’s chest. Just like that a candle was extinguished. Jean didn’t know how he was supposed to be handling it, but everyone appeared more concerned for him than he actually deserved. He didn’t feel that sad. He felt guilty. Guilty he wasn’t more upset. Guilty he hadn’t made it down for Marco’s last birthday. Christ, he didn’t even cry! Wasn’t he supposed to cry? Maybe he was fucked up.

Setting down his phone, he closed his eyes and willed away disruptive thoughts. He willed away Eren and the way his rough hands felt over Jean’s own. He willed away Pastor Nick’s lecture. He willed away all of those sympathetic handshakes and looks sent his way.

He pushed back everything but Marco’s freckled face and shy laugh.

[Jean:] dude, when are you coming back up to ny?

[Marco:] this summer, i promise!

[Jean:] you better!

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.

Chapter Text

“Oh Jean, the sink is leaking again. Do you think you could give it a look before work?” Mrs. Bodt asked him over breakfast.

Sure enough the towel she’d tied around the joint was soaked through. Jean got out a wrench and tightened the bolt but placed a bucket underneath just in case, but there were limits to his abilities.

When he got to work his brain felt a great deal like that leaky sink. He couldn’t focus.

really? he sounded really excited when i talked to him about it

Jean scratched at his head and reached over Armin’s divider and swatted at his sushi bobblehead. Armin wordlessly picked it up and moved it out of Jean’s reach. For lunch, he went to the diner around the corner and ordered a sloppy joe. He pretended to read over work stuff and nodded when a large party asked if they could steal one of his chairs. When he got back to work all he could do was stare out the window. Even Armin was feeling the post-lunch doldrums and he yawned and continued his online shopping.

Then the doors opened and Armin let out a, “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

“What?” Jean asked, but Armin had ducked under his desk.

Levi of Hannes’ garage walked in with a predatory lurch, his piercing grey eyes sweeping the quiet office before picking out the first recognizable face.

“You!” he barked, pointing at Jean.

For a moment Jean thought he was going to shout at him for mistreating his favorite apprentice, but instead he kicked out one of the chairs in front of Jean’s desk and got out a handkerchief dusting off the seat.

“Hello,” Jean tried, fingers frozen on his keyboard. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Levi snarled, kicking Armin’s portion of the desk.

Armin reappeared, holding a pencil.

“So that’s where it went,” Armin said indicating his pencil.

Without looking, Levi snapped his fingers at him, “Tea! Tea.”

Armin looked relieved as he left for the kitchenette.

Levi sat down heavily, tugging down his grey bowling shirt so as not to crease it.

“The wife,” Levi said by way of explanation.

“Yes?” Jean answered.

Levi let out a long sigh with a shrug and a knowing glance that Jean supposed must mean, “Women, am I right?” Yet he said nothing so the silence stretched out for a while as Levi stared at him expectantly.

Armin let out a dainty cough as he filled the kettle from the Culligan water cooler.

“So what brings you in to Survey Mortgage today?” Jean asked.

“Heh hem!” Armin coughed again.

“Would you excuse me for one moment?” Jean excused himself.

“What?” he asked Armin as he shut the kitchenette door.

“Don’t waste your time!” Armin advised. “Levi comes in here every six weeks like clockwork to ask for financing for some ridiculous thing or another for his house. Last time he wanted to build a raised deck. A raised deck! Have you seen that place?”

Everyone knew Levi’s home. You wouldn’t notice it if you were one of the tourists driving through the town on their way to the beach, but all the locals who took the faster back roads knew the converted mobile home. Jean had driven by it once before to see Levi (on one of his rare off days from the garage) dutifully mowing the lawn while his wife tanned topless in the front yard.

“Don’t bother. He’ll come in with some ridiculous idea, then haggle you down in price and play hardball over interest rates then when it comes to signing the papers he will just walk. I have tried to get him to sign. Rico has tried. Erwin has tried. Now he’s going to do the same thing to you and I’m telling you, just walk away!”

Jean wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but when he returned Levi was busy rearranging the contents of his desk by size.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Levi. Now, what was it you said you were looking for? Financial advice? Planning? Retirement?”

“Pool.”

“Sorry?”

“A pool. I want to build a pool for my wife. The saltwater—is no good for her skin. She wants a pool. Now I go to the contractor. I offer him cash. I say I pay half now, half later when job is complete. He says no dice. He says I need to get letter from bank. I don’t trust the bank. And I don’t trust this one—“

Levi pointed at Erwin’s office.

“—he is always trying to get his hands on my money!” Levi shouted and Jean turned around to see Erwin’s blue eyes peering through the blinds only to close them when he realized they were watching.

“But you know…” Levi shrugged. “Lesser of two evils.”

“I’m sorry, did you say a pool?” Jean asked.

“Yes, pool.”

Jean gaped at him for a few moments before finding himself.

“You don’t want a pool,” Jean said shaking his head.

Levi narrowed his eyes.

“Pools are hard to maintain. You have to clean them nearly every day and check the pH and—“

“You think I don’t know how to take care of my own property?” Levi asked in a low, deadly voice. “Have you seen my lawn? Best lawn in all of Sina!”

Well he wasn’t wrong on that point. Levi’s lawn was like a square of clipped green on a quilt of burnt, yellowing sand grass.

“Why do you want a pool?” Jean asked, turning up his thumbs helplessly.

“The wife.” Levi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “She…I want kids and she says, ‘Pool first!’ so…pool.”

“She doesn’t want a pool,” Jean said leaning forward in his chair.

He almost reached out to touch Levi’s arm but thought better. Levi looked down at the sloppy-joe stain on Jean’s cuff and his lip curled.

“Pools,” Jean coughed into his hand and hid the stained cuff. “Are dangerous. If you build a pool then you better build a gate because a kid can just march right in—“ he walked his fingers along the desk  “And…well, you know. She doesn’t want a pool.”

Levi was looking extremely uncomfortable at the thought of harm happening upon his hypothetical offspring.

“Here, look, what women want is security, right?”

Jean had absolutely no idea what women wanted.

“She wants a nice, safe home to put her kids in—you want that too right?”

“What makes you think the home I provide is not safe?” Levi asked, leaning over and though he was short, he cast a dark ominous shadow over Jean’s stapler and hole-punch.

“I’m sure it is,” Jean said smoothly, his brow breaking out into a light sweat, despite the air conditioning. “But just in case, here, let me give you Hanji’s card. They’re a realtor in the area and I’m sure they can help you find what you’re looking for. We can even get you preapproved for a loan right here if you’re—“

“You people,” Levi scoffed.

“I’m sorry?” Jean asked.

Armin, who had been about to deliver Levi’s mug of tea, quickly read the situation and made an about-face.

“You. You people here—” Levi bared his teeth. “You wouldn’t know what it means to work an honest day in your life. You sit there in your catalogue chairs with your fancy tie and you try and tell me what to do with my money? All you scum want is to see me more in debt. Usurers. Thieves. I’m an honest man. Mostly. I work hard for my money with the sweat off my back. What would you know of that?”

“I—“ Jean tried.

“There are two Sinas—you know that, eh? There’s the decent, good hard working folk like myself and then there’s the big money assholes who come in their BMWs and they buy up all the good land along the water and the pricks like you who jerk them off just for a taste. You act like you’re better than us, but you live in the same fucking town, you drink the same fucking water, you shit into the same goddamn sewers and yet you have the balls to say you’re different. You’re better. You disgust me.”

With that, Levi stormed from the building. Then he came back and grabbed the realtor card off Jean’s desk.

As soon as Levi’s tires squealed out of the parking lot, Erwin opened the door to his office.

“You handled that well,” Erwin praised.

But Jean felt sick.

Jean knew, more than anyone else, how two-faced the town could be.

Fresh out of a divorce, Peggy Kirstein had moved Jean to the small town to pursue her big dream: her own bakery. That summer had been a boon. Jean swept behind the counter and watched his mother work the front and then spend all night making the treats for the morning rush. Jean would get the freshly baked cinnamon rolls and buns out for the tourists and then when it died down, he’d ride his bicycle over to Marco’s and they’d spend the days on their bikes riding around looking for things to do.

But then winter came and business dried up and it simply wasn’t enough to stay afloat. Jean had been forced to say goodbye to all of those new friends he’d made. But after they moved back by his grandparents the debt followed them. Jean remembered coming home from school, his mom on the phone with debt collectors. He still flinched whenever the phone rang. He used to stay awake at night, worrying that they would be thrown out on the street. He begged Mom to sell his bike but she laughed off his worry. It didn’t matter because soon after he started his new school, bullies knocked him down and stole his bike. After that he walked everywhere.

When Jean got to the Bodt household that night, the bucket under the sink had filled with water.

Jean had never felt more useless or alone than he did that night, lying on Marco’s old bed, staring at the ceiling. It was a familiar ceiling. He had spent many a night there when his mother had a date or whenever he’d felt lonely and begged to stay the night. It just felt weird to be there without Marco whispering to him, “Are you awake?”

<*>

“Are you awake?”

Huh?

“Jeanbo! Are you awake?” Angelo asked. “I think my turtle is sick.”

“Oh,” said Jean, sitting upright.

Angelo was holding out the critter for Jean to examine.

“I’m sorry buddy, I don’t know what to tell you,” Jean said, coming nose to nose with the spotted turtle.

Outside, morning light was steaming in and Sawney was barking her head off. Jean sighed and sat upright, his hair sticking every which way.

“I’m going to take the dog out for a walk,” he informed Mrs. Bodt.

“That’s fine. I called someone about the sink and they should be coming in later today.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jean grumbled.

She gave him a knowing smile but didn’t say anything.

“C’mon you stupid mutt, let’s go,” he told Sawney.

Sawney was part German shepherd, part…something else. She was Marco’s pet, not the family pet. No one else knew what to do with the energetic breed and so they put her on the run in the backyard where she whined and barked and was generally a pest.

He undid the hook on the run, intent on putting her on the leash, but she twisted out of his grasp. She hopped the backyard fence and escaped down the block.

“Sawney!” Jean called. “Shit. Sawney!”

He took off after her, hurtling down the street. Yet, she hadn’t gotten far. He came across her hopping and barking happily around a stranger.

“I am so sorry, she just ran off and—“ Jean stopped when the stranger stood up and he recognized it as Eren Jaeger.

Eren scratched happily behind Sawney’s ears murmuring, “Hey girl,” to the canine. He nodded only briefly in recognition to Jean, tipping his hat. Jean became momentarily distracted by this hat, because it wasn’t his usual Hannes’ Garage hat, but instead a white trucker hat with, “Men love me, Trout fear me” stitched across it in green lettering.

“C’mon girl, let’s go,” Eren urged and he took off running toward the Bodt house.

Sawney lunged after him and Jean jogged a lap behind, holding the leash in his hand. When he caught up to them, Eren was throwing a stick for Sawney and was surrounded by Marco’s siblings. Moisés wanted to show Eren his score on Jean’s Xbox360 and Angelo was showing him the turtle and Gaby was singing her rendition of “Let It Go.”

“Thank you so much!” Mrs. Bodt welcomed Eren before Jean even had a moment to protest. “Marco had some sort of fix rigged up for the sink, but now…”

“I got it,” Eren said, grabbing Marco’s father’s tool box.

Eren pulled out a wrench, twirling it around his middle finger and slapping it into his palm. He wiggled under the sink, pushing back the little handmade curtains and reaching up to look at the pipe, his shirt riding up and Jean suddenly became interested in the Mother Goose wallpaper.

“I tried that,” Jean stuttered, giving an awkward step forward. “But it didn’t—“

“Got it,” Eren announced, dipping his head and sitting up. “It just needs some sealant around the base here. I’ll pick it up later today and that should fix it. Anything else I should take a look at?”

“The lawnmower won’t start,” Mrs. Bodt requested, smiling.

“On it!” Eren tapped the bill of his hat and set out for the shed.

Jean had already promised Mrs. Bodt that he’d refinish the wood floors in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Marco had already sanded the floors so all they needed was a few coats of finish. And while Jean wasn’t the Mr. Fix-It that Eren was, he could surely handle a roller brush. Outside the window he heard the rumble of a mower starting up and he found himself scowling.

Eren began directing Marco’s siblings to clean up the sticks and leaves in the yard. Sawney wrestled with the one in Eren’s hand and he tore it free and threw it. The dumb dog ran at breakneck speed after it and hurtled back with it in her slobbering mouth for Eren to throw again. They tacked a tarp over the pile of leaves and sticks and then Eren started up the mower.

Jean didn’t really know what was happening until it happened. He was busy with a fine brush, getting the corners of the room when Eren tugged his white beater off over his head and mopped at his brow before tossing it aside onto the tarp. Between the mower and the cicadas there was a loud lazy hum that fell over the hot day. Teenage girls from around the block came to lean against the fence and sigh, watching the sweat roll down Eren’s tan ribs. More than once Eren squinted up into the sun and Jean was forced to duck down and focus on the floors again. Only when the lawn was finished in perfectly straight lines that would have made Levi proud and Eren had tugged his shirt back on, did Jean realize the predicament he was in.

“Ah,” he said, looking at the stain covered floor surrounding him.

He only had the little island of unstained floor beneath his feet. Jean sighed and sat on the window sill and put his head in his hands, resigning himself to wait for the two hours it would need to dry.

There was a loud “SLAM!” of a ladder and Jean jumped a little as Eren popped his head up in the window.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. I was gonna clean out the squirrels nest from the gutters while I’m here and...” he paused and took in Jean’s situation.

“Paint yourself into a corner, did ya?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Yes,” Jean said miserably.

“Well come on. Let’s get you out!” Eren motioned.

Jean stepped into the window cautiously.

“Here, I gotchya,” Eren said, wrapping his lean arms around Jean’s waist and helping him find his footing on the ladder. “Just hang tight an—uh oh—“

Jean was about to ask why “uh oh” when he felt the ladder lurch and then they were tipping over. Jean landed heavily on Eren who landed on the green plastic tarp.

“Owww,” they both groaned.

“You okay?” Jean asked, propping himself up on his elbows and rubbing at his lower back.

“Yeah,” Eren laughed underneath him, then groaned rubbing at his neck.

“You didn’t break anything?” Jean asked. “Or hit your head?”

“No, m’fine,” Eren mumbled as Jean began feeling for a bump behind Eren’s ears and the back of his head, his amber eyes searching for any little cut.

Eren stretched his arms up and above his head, the tarp creaking underneath him and his breathing grew shallow. His full lips tugged into a playful, shy smile and he picked a twig out of Jean’s hair. Only then did Jean realize he had his arms on either side of Eren, holding him in place and he had slipped his knee in between Eren’s legs for balance and the combative fire in Eren’s eyes had been replaced with a warm glow. The hum of neighbor mowers and cicadas buzzed in Jean’s ear and dust motes and bits of pollen filtered through the light between the trees. Eren squirmed underneath Jean, tilting his chin up expectantly.

“I’ve gotta—I need to—there’s lots more to do—“ Jean stammered, struggling to his feet.

“Huh?” Eren asked, sitting up.

“I—uh—I think Mrs. Bodt is calling me—“ Jean took off.

<*>

[Eren:] he’s kindof a dork aint he?

[Reiner:] who?

[Eren:] Jean. he acts like he’s hot shit but he’s just a dork.

[Reiner:] yeah that’s Jeanbo.

Mrs. Bodt spent all day in the kitchen preparing carnitas in payment for all the work Eren did. Jean helped Gaby wash her hands in the sink and Eren sidled up next to them and dipped his hands under the tap. Jean dried Gaby’s hands as Eren splashed his face and tucked his hat into his back pocket. He tried to catch Jean’s eye in the mirror, but Jean rushed from the room.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Eren said humbly even as he piled his plate full of food.

“You’re cheaper than a plumber,” Mrs. Bodt reminded him. “And it’s nice having a couple boys with a healthy appetite around. Haven’t had you ‘round in a while, Eren.”

“I missed your cooking,” Eren said around a mouthful of food.

Eren entertained the table with how Jean had painted himself into the corner, conveniently leaving out the part where they had tipped off the ladder because of Eren’s carelessness. Marco’s siblings laughed loudly.

“Making fun of me, are you?” Jean asked, giving Moisés a little nudge.

“It was pretty funny,” Eren chuckled.

“Jeanbo is cool!” Angelo piped up, sticking up for him. “He has an Xbox360 and a PS4.”

“Yeah well Jean loves his things,” Eren muttered darkly.

“How’s house hunting going?” Mrs. Bodt asked. “Not that we don’t love having you—“

“No Jeanbo! You can’t leave!” Gaby shook his arm exaggeratedly.

“Good. Hanji showed me a few condos and—“

Eren gave a mirthless laugh that could have been mistaken for a grunt but Jean knew better.

When Mrs. Bodt politely turned her head, Eren took a bite of food before ranting.

“Every year they come in and tear down all of the mom and pop cabins and build up these monstrosities,” he said, pocketing his food in the corner of his mouth. “They carve up the land, ruin the habitats of hundreds of creatures and then we have these paper towns. All of these condos that just sit empty for eight or nine months of the year. And then they breeze into town and make their demands and suck the resources dry and leave. I hate it.”

And who helped with the financing to develop those condos? Survey Mortgage. And who gained the most business when retirees bought these condos? Survey Mortgage. Eren may have been parroting Levi’s words, but the venom was directed at Jean, or at least people like Jean.

“Ah, but without the summer rush we wouldn’t have enough to sustain us the rest of the year,” Mrs. Bodt pointed out. “Sina would dry up and be no more.”

“I just get frustrated,” Eren said by way of apology, picking angrily at his food. “Sina is my home.”

After dinner, Jean helped to clean up and then headed upstairs to his room to play some video games until bedtime. Yet as he felt his way up the darkened steps, he saw a shadow there at the top, standing in the doorway of Marco’s old room.

“Does it bother you?” Eren asked, sensing rather than seeing Jean.

Jean didn’t answer and Eren didn’t repeat the question. He just pushed past him, down the stairs, wiping at the wet on his face. Jean heard his pickup truck roll and start. Sawney barked and the cicadas hummed and Jean sat in the stairwell with his ghosts.

Chapter Text

Monday morning, Jean was the first to work only to find Levi pacing outside with Hanji the realtor and his wife in the car. Nearly two hours later, after a great deal of haggling from Levi, Jean had them signing all of the paperwork for their first house mortgage.

“You know you have a great deal of savings that are just sitting there, not gaining interest,” Jean said when the ink had dried. “Have you thought of investing?”

Levi grumbled and muttered something about it being too risky.

“Okay, well then, I know you were thinking of starting a family. Maybe you would be interested in starting a college fund?”

“College?” Levi snorted. “Why would he need to go to college? I will teach him—“

“Or her,” Petra yawned.

“Or her anything they need to know. How to manage the books? I’ll teach him—“

“Or her.”

“Or her how to manage the books. How to run a business, how to fix the cars, how to—“

“I’m sure you will but nowadays a high school diploma is not enough. I mean, what if you—god forbid—aren’t there in ten, twenty years?”

Levi didn’t have an answer for that one.

“Think about it,” Jean said, handing him a few pamphlets.

Levi stared at them uncomfortably, but shoved them into his coat pocket.

<*>

The Bodt’s minivan started making a weird noise a month after that so Jean offered to do Mrs. Bodt a favor and take it in to Hannes’ garage. Petra poured him a cup of coffee and then turned her back to him watching out the window. It was a humid day with temperatures reaching up to the mid-80s in the shade. The garage was sweltering. Even with the air conditioning at full blast in the white waiting room, the heat combined with the burnt coffee was enough to make Jean loosen his tie and fan himself with a magazine.

Then something amazing happened. Eren came out from the break room and began working on the busted minivan. He had unzipped his coveralls so the top was hanging off his waist and his white beater was streaked with grease. He leaned over the engine and the coveralls began slowly sliding down his hips, taking his underwear with it. So there was Eren with the very slightest of crack visible and there was Jean, praying, nay, begging gravity to drag those coveralls down the rest of the way. Jean tried not to look, he really did, especially since he was worried what Petra might think but then he turned his head and she was just as invested in the show as he was, twirling her gum around her finger, so he went back to appreciating the way Eren’s white beater was soaked through with sweat. He was so occupied with the perfect curvature of Eren’s ass, that when his view was interrupted, his first instinct was to look around the obstruction.

The man on the other side of the glass, a homely man with his tongue stuck between his teeth, gave a lewd grin. When Jean pretended to just be examining the garage and tossed his head around, he still didn’t move so Jean was forced to acknowledge him. The man puckered his lips and made a kissy face at Jean. Jean revolved slowly on the spot and walked over to the vending machine. When he looked again, there were two more men from the garage who joined him forming a wall to block Eren from view, each posing provocatively for Jean’s benefit, one pretending to rub his nipples in circles.

“Oi! Get to work!” Petra shouted, banging her fist on the glass.

They all jumped and then one of them undid his coveralls and proceeded to moon them. It wasn’t pretty. Jean heard a few clipped words barked in Russian that he was sure weren’t for polite company and the monkey business stopped. Levi came over and kicked the ugly man in the backside and then gripped the waistband of Eren’s underwear and hiked it up. Eren hit his head on the hood and yelped, rubbing at his head and backside, looking around wildly. When he saw Jean was the one perving on him, he gave a wink and pulled his coveralls back up before getting back to work, bending over agonizingly slow and arching his back.

Petra let out a plaintive sigh, tugging her gum.

Then suddenly there was a flurry of activity and Jean wasn’t quite sure what was happening until the ugly man ushered an older man with a blond mustache inside the white room. Petra spit out her gum and took her teal heels off the desk.

“Tea?” she offered in a voice dripping with honey.

“Yes, dear,” he nodded and she left to prepare it.

“Good choice,” Jean said, feeling he should make conversation. “The coffee is terrible.”

“Ah, Levi only offers that shit to the asshole customers,” the man laughed.

Jean looked at his cup and dumped the rest down the drinking fountain.

“That yours?” Jean asked, indicating a rusted Ford. He was bored and desperate for someone to talk to.

“No. That is mine,” the man nodded.

Jean looked out to watch Levi pull in a 1972 midnight blue Corvette Stingray.

“Nice, eh?” the man bragged and Jean let out an audible whine.

Nearly all action had halted as the other employees gathered around to admire the vehicle.

“It’s gorgeous,” Jean complimented. “You must be proud.”

“Yeah,” Hannes laughed and puffed up. “Yup, yup.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Sorry, George Hannes. This is my garage.”

“You’re Hannes! I thought it was just a name. Nice to meet you, Jean Kirstein,” Jean said shaking his hand.

“Nope! This is my place. The wife and I don’t have children so this place and my classic cars are my babies.”

“Oh, well it’s a nice place,” Jean said and turned back toward the window. And then, only because Erwin had been talking about “reaching out to the community” Jean added, “Have you ever thought of expanding?”

Hannes’ garage was the best around, that’s true, but folks thirty miles in each direction had no idea it even existed. If they added a second shop two towns over, they could easily double their business.

“Well it may be my name on the building, but Levi is the garage. I can’t start a new one without him.”

Jean nodded in agreement.

“And if I did pull him to a different one, who would manage this one? Eren?” Hannes asked.

Jean had no answer to this and any reply he might have managed was swallowed as Levi walked through the door.

“Levi, this man here thinks we could open another shop, what do you think of that?”

Levi snorted.

“Who would run it?”

“You. At least until you built up a team there like you did here,” Hannes suggested.

“And who would run this one?”

“Eren.”

Levi thought about it.

“Not bad.”

“He’d have to go to college first obviously,” Hannes continued and Levi pulled a face.

“What for? Waste of money. Some men, they don’t learn through schooling. Only discipline,” he slapped his hand in his palm.

“Well Eren is good on the cars, obviously, Levi, but does he know how to do the books? Work with the customers? Inventory?”

“Yes, but all that he can learn from me,” Levi said.

Petra snorted and they all looked at her.

“Oh and you know everything, right?” she asked her husband and he scowled. “The other day, Eren was trying to find a faster, more efficient way to clean so he poured vinegar into the bleach!”

The three men looked at each other.

“And…this is bad?” Levi asked wincingly.

“Old man, that’s how you make chlorine gas!”

None of them knew this or what chorine gas was, but it sounded bad. Petra went back to her magazine, snapping the glossy pages in annoyance, putting her teal heels back on the desk.

“Who am I to tell him what choices to make? Eh?” Levi continued. “He has made his choice. He doesn’t want to go to college.”

“He’d go if you asked him,” Hannes pointed out.

“That, I cannot do,” Levi said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window at the back of Eren’s head.

Jean knew Levi was thinking about the brochures he had given him. Jean wondered if they had been thrown out or were lingering in a desk drawer.

<*>

[Marco:] remember my crazy friend i told you about?

[Jean:] the suicidal bastard who insisted on being pulled behind a truck in a shopping cart?

[Marco:] that’s him!

[Jean:] what did he do this time?

[Jean:] (i live for these redneck stories you know)

[Marco:] so he found a boat out in a field. we’ve no idea why it was there or how he happened to find it.

[Jean:] i want to blame methheads, but i’m not sure why

[Marco:] and he bought this beat up Evinrude outboard motor and fixed it up really nice

[Marco:] and it handles great

[Jean:] …that’s it?

[Marco:] nope. he got some plywood and made a ramp in the river…

[Jean:] oh god.

[Marco:] so now the boat is stuck in a tree and we can’t figure out how to get it down…

[Jean:] lololololol

[Jean:] i think i love this kid.

<*>

A few weeks later, Jean was surprised coming back from his lunch break to find Levi leaving Erwin’s office. Levi thrust a piece of paper into Jean’s hands and left without so much as a word.

“Housewarming party?” Jean asked, looking at it surprised.

“Yes. We’re all invited,” Erwin said, watching Levi stalk out the doors. “And I think you should go. Obviously, as your boss, I can’t force you, but it’s a great way to meet the town and prospective clients. They see we’ve helped put Levi and his family in a nice home and we get new business.”

That Friday, Jean anguished over what to wear. He thought a nice suit for a reserved housewarming party was respectful and dignified but then he didn’t think Levi had much in the way besides bowling shirts and coveralls. So he instead opted for business casual: nice button down and a pair of khaki Dockers. Add a bottle of champagne and he was all set for a pleasant business venture.

He vastly underestimated what kind of party this was. There were Hummers on the front lawn and people playing table tennis on the porch like it was a frat house. He knocked on the door and Petra opened it, wearing one of her husband’s handkerchiefs as a halter-top and a jean skirt. He handed her the bottle of sparkling wine, stuttering through a greeting. She pinched the neck of the bottle as if she were unsure what it was, holding it like a dirty shoe.

“Can I get you anything?” she offered.

“Uh…a glass of red would be lovely,” he said.

She stepped in and Jean found himself distracted by the three mechanics from earlier. They made kissy faces at him as he tried to fit past them and he was so distracted he lost sight of Petra.

When he caught up with her she was sorting through bottles.

“What? What’re you looking for?” Levi asked her loudly.

“Mr. Fancy-pants wants red, so I’m looking for red wine.”

“Er, um, that’s fine, I’ll have whatever—“ he paused because he saw Hanji the realtor doing body shots off their partner. “Whatever they are having.”

“Here, no, you want red, I will get you red,” Levi said, finally locating a bottle.

He pulled out the cork with some vehemence and passed Jean a red Solo cup. Jean took a sip and then gave a smile and a thumbs up and both host and hostess looked relieved. Erwin was nowhere in sight, so much for reaching out to the community. And…of course Eren was here. He was wearing his trout hat again and drinking with Armin and Mikasa. Jean pretended he didn’t see them and instead got out his phone flipping through his apps.

The hot bartender from his favorite bar was here, Jean noted, sneaking a peek over his phone. Once again he was completely surrounded by suitors. There was no way he could stand out among the competition here. Especially not looking like a kindergarten teacher. There were a couple of girls making out with gusto against the wall and people dancing and grinding against each other. It looked like over half the town was here.

Jean was never good at parties. It wasn’t as though he were shy, but he couldn’t just go up to a stranger and make small talk. It had been easier when Marco was there. He didn’t care about anyone else as long as he had his best friend to hang with. He could relax and have a good time. Connie and Sasha always wanted to play drinking games, Bert never talked at parties, and Reiner’s loud voice always turned heads his way and it could be embarrassing. And while he knew Armin, Mikasa, and Eren, he felt awkward approaching them. So he looked to his phone for companionship.

“Jean!” Reiner boomed right next to him, clapping his hand on Jean’s shoulder.

Jean was so startled, he dropped his cup and it fell first onto Jean’s crotch and then the white carpet. Jean watched in slow motion as it hit neat-freak, terrifying Levi’s pristine white carpet in a beautiful splash.

“PARTY FOUL!” someone shouted and Jean flushed up to the roots of his hair.

Petra and Levi both stared at the mess and then at Jean’s stained pants and shocked expression.

“I am so, so sorry,” Jean apologized immediately. “Here, let me get some paper towels—“

“No, is good, it’s all good,” Levi reassured him after a few moments. “Carpet is shit. I am ripping it all out tomorrow. There is good wood under here. Here, see?”

The short man got on his hands and knees with a claw hammer and began pulling the carpet up.

“Good wood!” Levi repeated slapping the floor.

“Still, I am so—where is your restroom?” Jean asked.

Petra led him to the pink and cream bathroom and Jean locked himself inside and stayed there. He didn’t know why he had even bothered to come to this. He didn’t belong. People came by and knocked on the door and he shouted, “Occupied!” at them. Sighing, he sat on the toilet lid in his boxers and messed with his phone.

<*>

Knock, knock.

“Occupied.”

BOOM BOOM.

“Occupied!”

“Hurry up! I gotta piss like a racehorse!” shouted the partygoer on the other end.

“Well find a different shitter because this one is occupied!”

“I can’t! C’mon man!”

They began jiggling the handle.

“Fuck off!” Jean shouted.  

He shook his head and scrolled on his phone.

There was a loud noise as the person on the other end threw their whole weight against the door.

“Hey!” Jean protested.

The person gave up and began wiggling a card between the lock.

“I said fuck off!” Jean shouted.

The door swung open and a now hatless and flushed Eren Jaeger burst in, kicking the door shut behind him.

“The hell!” Jean said, unrolling a bunch of toilet paper to cover the front of his boxers.

“Oh,” moaned Eren, unzipping his fly and whipping out his member, leaning over the sink. “Oh that’s better.”

He smiled blissfully, pressing his cheek against the sink mirror and sighed. Jean tried not to look at him, instead crossing his hands over his lap.

“Oh it’s you,” Eren said, his breath fogging the mirror. “You got the runs? I feel you. Mannn, there are a lot of hotties here tonight, you should get out there. Mike set up the grill here an’ your boss is tryin’ t’ convince him to split the restaurant into two and—”

Eren cut off mid-sentence to give a little jerking shiver as he finally finished.

“No, I don’t have the runs!” Jean sniffed. “And what kind of asshole bursts in on a guy when he’s busy?”

“Hey man, shit or get off the pot,” Eren said, zipping up.

Only then did he take in Jean’s hunched over appearance.

“What’s with you?”

“I—I spilled my drink on my pants and it won’t come out,” Jean confessed.

Eren looked round for the pants which were crumpled up on the floor

“You gotta soak ‘em!” Eren insisted, picking them up and putting them in the sink.

Jean winced at the thought of his pants taking a bath in the piss sink.

“Cold water! I bet club soda would get it out,” Eren babbled drunkenly, filling up the sink. “Why you only got one shoe on?”

“Uh…” Jean hesitated and Eren squinted at him blearily. “I tried to climb out through the window and slipped and got my shoe stuck in the toilet.”

He stood up and lifted the lid.

“Huh,” said Eren. “Well that’s good an’ in there—shit—“

The sink had begun overflowing behind him and he quickly turned it off.

“I just want to go home,” Jean mumbled.

Eren gave him a look, a mixture of pity and amusement and Jean shuffled in his wet sock on the bathmat.

“Alright, I got an idea!” Eren said brightly and Jean picked his head up in confusion. “D’ya trust me?”

“No. Most definitely not, no.”

Eren leaned forward and pinched Jean’s cheek hard.

“Ow! What the—“

Eren pinched at his neck.

“Ow! Fuck! That one really hurt!” Jean shouted angrily slapping at Eren’s hand.

Eren was aggressively biting at his own lips, turning them bright red. He pinched Jean’s neck again.

“Stop that! What are you doing?” Jean asked.

“Givin’ you lovebites.”

“That’s not…what?”

Eren was busy messing up Jean’s hair and then he ripped off the top two buttons of Jean’s shirt. Picking up one of the toothbrushes by the sink, he rubbed furiously at Jean’s lips.

“STOP THAT!” Jean sputtered.

“Hm,” Eren looked at the mess he’d made of Jean, fussing with his hair once more. “One last thing…”

Eren pressed his teeth into his own knuckles, leaving a deep impression and Jean realized that Eren was every bit as crazy as all those stories about him.

“Now I’ma leave and you wait two minutes and then you leave—“

“I can’t go out there looking like this!”

“You can an’ you will!” Eren said grabbing Jean by the shoulders. “Because in two minutes I’m gonna have every bangable body out there thinkin’ you’re the best fuck of their life! I’m Maverick, you’re Goose. I’m your wingman.”

“Goose dies!”

“You count two minutes—200 seconds—“

“That’s not two minutes—“

“—an’ you go out there like this and you don’t say anything. You grab a drink and you sit down. If people ask you questions, you don’t say shit, you just shrug and sip your drink. An’ put your damn phone away! Who you talkin’ to anyways? Got that?”

“What?”

“I’m helpin’ you get laid, dumbass!”

“Why would you do that?”

“Iunno, ‘cause you’re really bad at it? And I thought you could use a friend.”

Friend. Were they friends now? How long had they been friends?

Eren let out a hellcat whoop, making Jean jump backwards. He wrenched open the door, fumbling with his pants, shutting it behind him.

Jean waited two minutes, with his ear pressed against the door, not hearing anything but the booming bass of the music. Finally, with a shaking hand, he opened the door and stepped out. He made a beeline for the liquor table and grabbed a half empty bottle of bourbon.

“Where’d you disappear to?” Reiner asked casually, but his eyes were suspicious.

Jean shrugged but didn’t say anything and made his way over to the empty sofa. He sat down in just his boxers, tipping the bottle back and then shaking his head as it burned on the way down.

“I’m tellin’ you!” Eren was shouting on the other side of the room. “I’m shakin’. Oh Lord, feel me, I’m shakin’!”

“No more booze for you,” Mikasa said, pulling a drink out of Eren’s hands.

“Did you and Eren really hook up?” Sasha asked incredulously, stopping by Jean’s couch.

Jean didn’t really know what to say so he followed Eren’s advice and said nothing. He only shrugged indifferently.

“Huh…” Sasha said wandering away.

Jean took another desperate swig.

“Hey,” said a soft voice in a low purr as a good looking man in his early twenties sat down on the couch.

“Hey,” Jean said, focusing on his drink nervously.

“You know that guy over there?” the man asked indicating Eren, putting his elbow on the back of the couch and angling towards Jean.

Jean shrugged again.

“He is saying some crazy stuff about you.”

“Is he?” Jean asked trying to keep his voice level.

“It’s not all true… is it?” the newcomer looked up at Jean between his eyelashes and bit his lip.

Jean cast a look back at Eren who was sobbing drunkenly, hanging off of Mikasa. When he saw Jean looking, he threw him a thumbs up and nodded, then resumed his acting.

“I got you a shot, but it looks like you’ve already got a drink,” the cute bartender said, interrupting Jean’s line of sight.

Jean took it and the bartender clinked theirs together.

“Salut!” the bartender said, tossing it back.

Jean’s first suitor was shooting daggers at the bartender.

“If you want you could drink a shot out of my…” the first man said leaning in and whispering the rest in Jean’s ear.

“You know, I heard yours is the Maserati out front,” the bartender said, slipping his hand up Jean’s bare thigh.

Well, what do you know? It worked.

“I wan’ more!” Eren sobbed. “I need more!”

“Oh honey no, come on, let’s get you home,” Armin was saying as Eren hammed it up.

“I know this really quiet spot we could go in your car and we could…“ the bartender cooed, his breath hot against Jean’s neck.

“I have to go,” Jean said suddenly, standing up and taking his bottle with him.

He crossed the room in two steps.

“I wan’ him!” Eren shouted as Mikasa and Armin tried to wrestle him out the door. “Jean!”

Jean placed both hands on either side of Eren’s face and kissed him. He could feel Eren’s eyes widen in surprise, then he gave in and kissed him back enthusiastically, putting on a show.

Jean pressed the bottle into Eren’s chest, pushing him back into the restroom as Eren gave the crowd an ecstatic grin.

“What’re you doin’?” Eren asked a Jean locked the door and set the bottle on the counter. “You had ‘em on the hook, you just gotta reel them in—“

Jean kissed him, fisting his hands in Eren’s shirt and pulling him close.

“Jean!” Eren laughed, slipping out of his embrace. “You don’t want them to think we’re together—“

Jean didn’t want anyone but Eren, he interrupted him with another kiss.

“Jean!” Eren repeated, still laughing and pushing on his shoulder.

Jean pressed his mouth against Eren’s soft full lips, willing Eren to understand.

“Jean,” Eren whispered, his laughter dying as he pulled away.

He was looking at Jean now with that same pitying expression he had earlier. Jean continued grasping Eren’s shirt tightly in his hands staring at the soft fabric, his eyes pricking at the corners. He released his grip on the balled up fabric, rubbing his sweating palms against his bare thighs. Stupid. So stupid.

“Jean,” Eren said softly, nosing at his hair then his chin, tilting it up to catch Jean’s lips with his own.

He smiled against Jean’s lips at the taste of him, waiting for more. And Jean gave it to him. He threaded his hand through those dark locks, the other slipping around Eren’s waist. Eren gave a breathy laugh.

“Oh Jeanbo,” he sighed, leaning into the embrace. “You’re almost as good a kisser as I said you were.”

“Eren sweetie!” Armin shouted, knocking rapidly on the door. “C’mon, let’s go home. You’re too drunk. You can do better!”

“I’m gonna break it down!” Mikasa insisted and then threw her body against the door.

“I ain’t that drunk,” Eren protested. “An’ she will too, we should leave.”

“How?” Jean asked as the frame shuddered under Mikasa’s weight.

“The window,” Eren said as if it were obvious.

“I already tried that—“ Jean scoffed and then frowned as Eren undid the top of the window and it slid open easily. “Damnit.”

Eren wiggled out first, then reached back to take the bottle and pull Jean through. When Mikasa finally opened the door, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Armin behind her, they were gone. Eren laughed gleefully as they scaled the roof and found a spot they could lay flat on, passing the bottle back and forth and swapping long kisses.

Chapter Text

Jean woke up begrudgingly slow, fighting against the light streaming under his eyelids. Only when he felt something prod his shoulder again did he stir. He opened one bleary eye and then started awake as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

“What’re you doin’ in my car?” the voice on the other end of the gun asked.

He tried to jump but was trapped by something heavy and he looked to see Eren’s peaceful face curled up on his chest, unaware of the danger they were in.

“Don’t shoot!” Jean cried out, throwing his hands in front of his face.

“Ah,” said the owner, looking down at Eren’s sleeping form. He lowered his gun. “Relax it’s a pellet gun.”

Jean lowered his hands carefully.

“Mr. Hannes?” he asked.

“I see he dragged you out to see the T-bird,” Hannes grunted. “Used to find him curled up here whenever his pops would take the belt to him. He’d scale out the window, hide out in my garage. He was really into the classic cars, even back then. Eren!”

He nudged Eren with the point of his pellet gun and Eren started awake. He pushed on Jean’s stomach to sit up.

“Morning!” Eren said brightly, smacking his mouth sleepily.

“Oh god,” Jean said quickly covering his mouth. “Ima puke—“

“NOT IN THE CAR!” both Eren and Hannes yelled, simultaneously shoving and pulling him out of the red and white Thunderbird.

Hannes brought him out a bucket and began power spraying down the vomit on his home garage floor.

Jean wiped puke from his mouth as Eren bounded around Hannes’s garage in that intimate familiar way that Jean could never attain in someone else’s home. He wasn’t all too clear on how they had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was making out with Eren on the roof. How had they gotten down to…wherever they were?

“I have never been this hungover…” Jean complained, limping a little on the gravel as he only had one sock on his foot and no shoes. “…in my entire life.”

“You haven’t been to many of Levi’s parties then,” Eren snorted.

Jean groaned, putting one hand over his eyes as the sun started to spread its rays over the rooftops of neighboring houses.

“I used to live riiight, there,” Eren pointed at a white house with green shutters.

He lingered for a moment before tripping on, tangling his fingers in Jean’s own.

“You used to live in town, right?” Eren asked, walking backwards in front of Jean, pulling him along. “Where did you live?”

“In the apartments over on Palm Street,” Jean said without thinking.

“Oh,” said Eren, his mouth falling open.

Oh was right. Jean might as well have said he lived in the slums of the tourist town.

“It was just supposed to be temporary until Mom’s bakery got off its feet, but…it didn’t.”

“Are you a Momma’s boy, Jean?” Eren asked raising his dark brows.

“What?” Jean asked, head pounding too hard for him to understand if the question was an insult.

“It’s just, I read somewhere that guys treat their partners how they treat their mothers. And I was wondering if that was you.”

“If what was me?” Jean asked in confusion.

“If you’re good to your momma. I bet you are. I’m a Momma’s boy. I’ll be real good to ya.”

Eren winked, still tugging Jean down the street and Jean could only follow after him.

Jean didn’t know exactly what he expected when they hopped up to Levi’s house—red solo cups all on the lawn, people passed out on every surface—but instead the place was nearly spotless. Petra and her husband were busy cleaning. The ugly man from the garage was up on the roof, fixing shingles.

“You’re in a lot of shit,” he said dropping a pile of old shingles down at Eren’s feet.

“Oluo, you’re talkin’ out your ass as per usual,” Eren rolled his eyes.

“Naw, I heard boss talking on the phone with Hannes about you.”

“When?” Eren asked.

“Just now,” Oluo said, grinning with his tongue between his teeth.

“Uh oh,” Eren said shifting a little.

Jean stepped in after Eren. Petra walked by with a bag of beer bottles to recycle and the smell of booze caused another wave of nausea to crash over him.

“Levi wants to see you,” Petra said, tapping Eren’s shoulder. “And I have your pants.”

Petra handed Jean his khakis. The stain was magically gone and there were crisp lines ironed into the fabric.

“Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that—“ Jean said as she added his single sock to the small pile in his arms.

There was a loud thud as Jean’s boss stumbled down the stairs, clutching his head and looking a great deal like how Jean felt.

“See you Monday,” Erwin muttered, rubbing his forehead as Mike from the Italian/Rib Shack combo place followed behind him looking very smug.

“Boss?” Eren called out, searching for Levi.

“Here, here,” Levi waved from the kitchen. “Sit, please.”

Eren snorted at his use of “please.”

Levi was busy pushing sausage around in his skillet and the smell of fried eggs was making Jean’s stomach roll again. Levi flipped the eggs onto a plate with some toast and set it in front of Eren. He didn’t bother offering Jean any which Jean figured had more to do with how green he looked and less with rudeness.

“What’s this?” Eren asked, staring at the meal.

“Breakfast,” Levi said.

“Why?” Eren asked suspiciously.

“If you’re not going to eat it—“ Levi said, pulling it away.

“I didn’t say that!” Eren said, grabbing it and pulling it towards him, wolfing down the meal and grinning.

“Oh god,” Jean groaned as Eren dipped his toast in the gooey egg yolk. “I need to use the—“

He got up from the table and when he returned, Petra was in the hall outside the kitchen, fussing with her acrylic nails and there were raised voices in the kitchen.

“I don’t care what kind of school! I ain’t goin’! I’m not gonna leave all my friends behind to spend two years learnin’ what I already know! It’s a waste of time and money!”

Levi said something in a low voice, it was a gentler tone than Jean had ever heard him use.

“I ain’t goin’!”

“You go,” Levi said firmly, raising his voice a little. “Or you’re fired.”

Petra rubbed at her temples on the other side of the wall and gave Jean a pained look.

“What?” Eren asked, his voice cracking. “Why? Please—Boss—please, I just wanna work with you. I just wanna be on your team. Why can’t I just keep doing that?”

“Go,” Levi repeated. “Or you’re fired.”

There was a moment as Eren gathered his thoughts.

“Fine,” Eren snapped with a stubborn edge to his voice that couldn’t be good. “Then I quit!”

Petra closed her eyes with a sigh. Eren stormed out of the kitchen, a bunch of pamphlets for a technical college shoved in his pocket. He grabbed Jean’s wrist and pulled him out of the house.

Petra stepped into the kitchen to see Levi hunched over the kitchen table, pinching the bridge of his nose, deepening the well-worn crease between his brows.

“And you want four,” Petra tutted, rubbing at his neck.

Levi sighed.

<*>

“Let’s go somewhere,” Eren said as Jean fumbled to put on his khakis on the sidewalk. “Let’s go for a drive. C’mon Jean, take me for a ride.”

“I’m not really sure I’m fit for driving,” Jean said, staggering about. “Let’s just walk for a bit.”

They didn’t seem to have a destination in mind but as they turned the corner onto Marco’s street, he heard the familiar sound of dog claws on the pavement. Sawney nudged at his palm and Jean bent down to pet her and saw the frayed rope from her lead had finally snapped.

“C’mon girl,” Jean said, pulling on her collar and leading her toward the house.

Eren grabbed her leash and they continued along the street until the trees thinned out and the long grass gave way into a wide beach. Jean let her off leash and she ran along the shore nipping at little crabs that immediately hid back in their sandy homes. Eren stripped off his shirt and shorts and ran into the water in just his boxers before Jean had time to react. Sawney crashed into the surf after Eren and Jean struggled to strip off his shoes and khakis.

“C’mon Jean!” Eren motioned as Jean hopped on one foot.

The water was freezing. Fuck. Goddamnit Eren. Eren didn’t seem to mind the ocean water at all. Sawney paddled around and then ran back to shore to chase more crabs, then when Eren whistled for her she came sprinting back out. Jean made it to where Eren was, taking his time to adjust to the water, and Eren immediately slipped his arms around his waist. He nuzzled against Jean’s stubbly chin and nearly kissed him when Jean pulled away.

“My breath smells like puke,” Jean apologized.

Eren looked up at him with those seagreen eyes of his and leaned back, floating in the water as waves rocked him.

“I love it out here,” he said dreamily, his lashes blinking the saltwater out of his eyes. “When I was little I thought I could swim across the ocean. I thought if I made it across the other side I’d be free.”

Jean didn’t ask free from what.

“C’mon!” Eren said suddenly, righting himself, eyes bright. “Let’s see how far out we can get!”

He started in a crawl toward the horizon and Jean sloppily followed. Jean wasn’t a strong swimmer. He didn’t make it far before he was out of breath. The further out he went the colder it became and his neck hurt from treading water, trying to look above the soft waves at Eren’s dark head. Every now and then Eren would shout something over his shoulder, but the wind would catch it. Jean watched him grow smaller in the distance and then made up his mind to swim back to shore.

Sawney ran up to him and shook off, covering Jean in dog slobber and wet sand. He collapsed, sitting on his shirt and Sawney yawned, taking her spot next to him, the dripping water creating little discs of wet sand under her.

Eren was like the point of a pin in the distance, yet it was Jean who felt so very small. He always felt like he was part of someone else’s story. Last night he had finally kissed Eren and that was supposed to mean something, he knew it. He’d had a moment and yet here he was experiencing Eren’s crisis instead of his own breakthrough. He had a lump in his throat and then it was altogether too easy to give in to self-pity.

He rifled through the pamphlets in Eren’s pocket and read a few pages, flipping past pictures of a smiling diverse student body, before placing them back where he’d found them.

“C’mon girl,” he motioned to Sawney, putting her leash back on and heading for home.

He was halfway up the block when he heard Eren calling him.

“Jean!”

Jean paused, Sawney panting next to him.

“Why’d you go Jean?” Eren asked, running up with his shirt in his hands.

Jean shrugged in answer and continued on his way.

“Are you mad, Jean?” Eren asked, keeping pace with him.

Jean shook his head.

“Are you sad?” Eren asked, raising his dark brows in confusion.

Jean paused slightly, then shook his head again.

“Well then what are ya?” Eren asked, now walking backwards and trying to get a better look at Jean’s face.

“I’m—“ Jean started, then stopped. “Tired. I’m just tired.”

“Oh,” said Eren, looking disappointed. “Okay.”

They walked in silence for a bit.

“Can you believe Levi?” Eren said swinging his arms, his eyes bright again. “Fuck. I gotta look for a new job. This really sucks.”

When Jean didn’t respond, Eren looked at him sideways.

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Eren asked, chewing on his lip nervously.

“Yeah,” Jean nodded.

“I mean,” continued Eren. “Why do he and Hannes think they can just plan my life for me? I determine my own fate, y’know? Everyone is always tryin’ to make me into somethin’ I’m not. I went through all of high school being told I was nothin’ and wasn’t going nowhere. And at one point, I wanted to go a lot of places, you know? I wanted to see the world. But now I got my friends and I have my—well I had my job—but it’s all good, you know? Better than people trying to change me and—what?”

He stopped because Jean was looking at him funny.

“You have so many people who love you and care for you,” Jean said, gripping Sawney’s leash tight. “So many people who want you to be the best version of yourself and are willing to help you and support you to get there. And I’ve…I’ve never had that.”

Except maybe for Marco.

Jean shook his head and continued on with Sawney, leaving Eren stuck there in the gravel cul-de-sac.

“Oh, and by the way?” Jean called over his shoulder. “That school is only forty-five minutes away, meaning you could drive there every day and be back every night to hang out with Armin and Mikasa.”

Eren stood there, rubbing at his wet hair and didn’t make to follow him.

<*>

Jean showered and when he was dry and officially not hungover anymore, he walked over to Levi’s and grabbed his car. He spent much of the day in his room. Some kids down the block set off fireworks at sunset and Sawney was so wound up and kept barking her head off, so he quietly managed to sneak her into the house and up to his room. She calmed some, sleeping at the foot of his bed.

Of course, she woke him by growling loudly, hackles raised staring out his window.

“Sh! Sawney! Sh!” Jean said, pulling her down.

Eren tapped again at the window and waved.

“What the hell?!” Jean hissed, ripping open the window. “What are you doing here? What is it with you and crawling in and out of windows???”

“Hi!” Eren said sweetly, stepping over the threshold, looking up at Jean.

“Uh…hi,” Jean said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Sawney whined in happiness, licking Eren’s hand and Eren grinned in that stupid confident way he had.

“I got my job back,” Eren said in a pleased voice.

“Oh, cool,” Jean nodded.

“And Levi will work with my school schedule so I will have more flexible hours.”

“Mm,” Jean agreed.

“So…” Eren shrugged and grinned happily.

“So,” Jean waited.

“So that means more time to spend with Mikasa and Armin,” Eren said stepping closer and putting his hands on Jean’s waist. “And…you.”

“Oh,” Jean rubbed at his nose.

“And I’ve been thinking and you’re wrong. You have lots of people who care about you. You’ve got the Bodts and all of our friends.”

“Your friends don’t even like me,” Jean pointed out.

“Well they will!” Eren said suddenly enthusiastic. “They will because I like you, Jeanbo!”

“Okay,” Jean said snorting, his eyes bright.

“I like you a lot and I want you to be my boyfriend!”

Jean couldn’t respond to that with words, he managed a simple nod and Eren smiled.

“Okay?” Eren asked, tugging on his belt loops.

“Sure,” Jean agreed, still not looking at Eren.

“Then kiss me,” Eren requested, his eyes lingering on Jean’s lips.

Jean didn’t quite make it there. He stopped with his nose against Eren’s and his breath on Eren’s cheek. Eren put his calloused hand on Jean’s cheek and brushed with his rough thumb.

“It’s okay Jean,” Eren said. “You can cry if you’re sad.”

“I’m not much of a crier,” Jean laughed froggily, even though his eyes felt wet. “I didn’t even cry when Marco died. I think that means there’s something wrong with me.”

He gave a hiccupping laugh, clutching at Eren’s soft shirt again.

“That’s okay, Jeanbo,” Eren nodded, still brushing his cheek. “I cry a lot. When I’m angry. When I’m frustrated. So it’s okay if you don’t. Heck, I can cry for the both of us.”

There were wet spots on Eren’s shirt and Jean didn’t even know when they got there. He released the fabric and buried his face in the crook of Eren’s neck. It felt good to be touched again, to be held.

When he felt his shoulders stop shaking, he mouthed at Eren’s neck and then pulled him to the bed. They curled together, Eren resting his head on Jean’s chest again, the dog at their feet.

<*>

Jean didn’t mean to fall asleep like that, but they did. Which meant Jean had to sneak Eren out the front door without any of the Bodt’s realizing he’d spent the night. They made it all the way to the front door when Mrs. Bodt called out.

“Does Eren want some of these blueberry pancakes I’m making?”

Eren’s face lit up at the idea of free food and Jean winced.

“Hey...” said Gaby thoughtfully, as Eren began wolfing down a stack. “Why are you here?”

Eren and Jean exchanged a look and Mrs. Bodt gave them both a knowing smile.

“We went fishin’,” Eren lied smoothly. “We got up early an’ went out on the river.”

“How many—how many fish, how many fishes did you catch?” Angelo asked.

“Fish weren’t biting,” Eren said, pinching the side of Jean’s thigh and making him jump a little.

“Will you take me fishing?” Moises asked.

“Sure,” Eren said ruffling his hair.

“Can we go now?” Moises tried.

“Can’t now, buddy,” Eren said. “Jeanbo’s gonna take me for a drive. Aren’t you Jean?”

He looked over at Jean expectantly.

“Yeah. Yes,” Jean answered and Eren’s lips curled into a very satisfied smile.

A sink full of dishes later and they were off. Eren lounged in the seat, his fingers brushing the leather, looking over at Jean with heavy lids. Jean took them out on the backroads, cruising with the windows open. Every time Jean looked over at Eren, Eren was staring back at him, biting his lips. When they made it to a ten mile stretch of nothing but country road, Eren slipped his hand up Jean’s thigh. He kept massaging him and every so often his thumb would brush the zipper on his jeans.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Eren asked in a dangerous voice, leaning over and whispering in Jean’s ear.

“No. What’s that?” Jean said, clearing his throat.

Eren slid his palm over the front of the denim and Jean gasped.

“Shit, we can’t, I’m driving here, Eren!” Jean cursed.

“That’s okay, baby” Eren drawled, pressing a little harder. “You just keep your eyes on the road and let me take care of it.”

He lowered his head and mouthed through the straining fabric.

“Fuck, Eren!” Jean swore, hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

“Just take it nice and slow, Jeanbo. And if it gets too hard to focus—“ Eren smirked, tonguing at his eye tooth. “Just pull over somewhere.”

“Shit this is a bad idea, Eren. Fuck, this is a really bad idea!”

“Eyes on the road,” Eren ordered, lowering his head.

It was a very bad idea. Five minutes later they were both certain of that.

“Hello Officer Dawk,” they both said dully.

“Mornin’ boys,” he said tipping his hat and looking very smug.

After a long speech about how that sort of thing was better left off in a bedroom and, “this is a family road,” he gave them a speeding ticket but thankfully didn’t charge them with anything more serious.

“This is for $350 dollars!” Jean raged, finally looking at it.

Eren burst out into laughter and didn’t stop until Jean kissed him.

<*>

[Jean Kirstein to Marco Bodt:] I’m happy. I never really thought that was possible. I used to tell myself I didn’t deserve it because let’s face it, I’m a sumbitch. Now, I find that maybe I don’t need to sabotage things every time they’re going my way. I don’t need to punish myself. There are days when I miss you. That’s inevitable right? But most days I feel like you’re here. I feel like you’d be proud of me. On nice days, Eren will get out that tin bucket of a boat and I’ll sit with the dog and he’ll push us out until the water is up to his knees before hopping in. He’ll take us up the river and then he’ll cut the motor and we’ll just drift. Eren curls up on my chest and we’ll nap as we float on. His nose always either just healing from a sunburn or recently burnt and usually red and peeling and there’s little freckles there. The rocking of the boat knocks him right out. And that’s when I think I feel you most. I can feel you smiling because I’m smiling. I feel connected to you, like maybe you’re sitting in the boat with us or maybe you’re in the water or the trees, or even watching from shore. I think you’d be happy for us. I’m happy for us. I miss you. I wish I’d had more time with you, but now I’m making an effort to be there more for the people I love. Because that’s really all we get, isn’t it? We only get time. And I’m not going to waste a single moment.

[Sent at 10:43 am.]