Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jean’s alarm goes off at exactly 5:30AM. It cuts through the haze of sleep like a knife, jolting him awake. His half-awake brain scrambles to smack at his phone somewhere on the nightstand until eventually the room is engulfed in the quiet again. “Son of a bitch.” He mutters, groaning as he stretches his long body and feels his joints pop back into place. His fingers reach out on autopilot, ready to shake awake the person in the space next to him, before he’s reminded. Right. He doesn’t do that anymore. 

Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he concentrates on a few deep breaths and tries to center his mind for the day. He’s got to be at the top of his game for first day training and earn his marks as the new vice captain. Before he can succumb to sleep, his phone buzzes with incoming texts and he reaches for it with a sigh. ‘See you in fifteen.’ The text reads, a sharp glow that threatens to blind him emanating from the screen. If he wasn’t awake before, he sure as hell is now. 

He stumbles his way through his morning routine, tugging on a hoodie and jeans with a piece of burnt toast hanging from his mouth. His phone buzzes again and he curses, sliding his feet into well-worn sneakers that have seen better days. By the time he gets his bag over his shoulder, his second alarm is sounding and he hurries out the door. Halfway down the stairwell, he has to run back and lock it.

There’s an Uber waiting by the time he makes it downstairs and he flashes an apologetic smile to the driver as he slides into the backseat. It’s too early for conversation, so he pops in an earbud and scarfs down the last bite of his toast and licks the crumbs from his fingers. The short ride to the rink is filled with some shitty K-pop band that Conny had recommended, but Jean’s humming along by the end of the third song. 

The rink is as quiet as ever this early in the morning, only a couple of cars in the parking lot. Jean waves to his driver as he heads into the building, the overhead light flickering. He shuffles through the main lobby and as he turns the last corner, the chill in the air hits him and he grins. “You’re late.” A stern voice tells him as he approaches the stands. Frowning, Jean checks his phone and reads the time. 5:43.  

“I’m two minutes early.” He protests while dropping his gear.

”Should have been five.” His team captain comes off the ice and shakes his head. “Tch. You’re not even geared up.”

“You said we start training at 6!” Jean tries not to scowl at the shorter man. “C’mon, Levi-“

“You should know better, Jean.” An amused voice says. He turns his head, watching as the older blond man approaches the stands. “You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Because I did.” Jean huffs. 

“Alone?” Levi raises an eyebrow and Jean tries not to flinch under his scrutinization. 

“Yes, dad.” He briefly revels from the twitch in Levi’s left eyebrow. “I had a hard time falling asleep, that’s all.” 

“We need you ready when the team arrives in an hour. You’ll be leading them through the training exercises today.” Erwin tells him, clapping a hand around his forearm. “Levi and I will be meeting with the other coaches and managers to discuss some things. It’ll be up to you to greet our new goalie and welcome them to the team once we’re done with him.”

“You’re still not going to give me a name?” Jean’s own eyebrow climbs up. A transfer this close to the start of the season is almost unheard of, but Jean’s more concerned about an unknown element on the ice. 

“It’s more fun this way.” A corner of Levi’s mouth tilts up and Jean bites down on a snarky comment. “Gear up and hit the ice. If you aren’t here in 10, you’re doing laps until your legs give out.” 

“Yes, sir.” Jean lifts up his bag again and starts for the locker rooms. When Erwin falls into step beside him, he glances at the other man.

"How are you feeling today? Honestly.” Piercing blue eyes hold his gaze until his chest feels tight. He fiddles with the strap of his bag, stalling for time, and exhales when they finally step into the locker room. “Jean.” Erwin says, voice gentle but firm. 

“I’m nervous I’m going to screw it up. Team really wanted Eren as vice captain, or hell, Mikasa would have been better than me. Armin.” He drops his bag down on the bench and straddles it, looking up at the older man. “How the fuck am I going to fill Levi’s shoes?”

"We’re confident in your abilities. If we didn’t think you were up for the job, you wouldn’t have it.” Erwin tells him plainly. “Eren’s too much of a hothead and we all know it. You’re a natural leader, Jean. The team looks up to you. You’ve put in the work over the last year and you should be proud.” Erwin’s praise sings through his chest and Jean tucks it away for a rainy day. “You won’t be doing this alone. You’ll have Levi’s support, just as he had mine.”

"Thank you.” Jean manages a faint smile and Erwin grips his shoulder, nodding at his bag.

"Get ready before Levi makes good on his threat.”

"Yes, sir.” Leaning over, Jean unzips the bag and listens to the fading of Erwin’s footsteps before he springs into action. In no time at all, he’s lacing his skates up and heading back to the rink. 

“About time.” Levi says, circling one of the goals. “Laps. 10 to start, last 3 backwards.”

"Timing me?” Jean asks, rolling his shoulders back and getting into position.

"Not yet.” Levi shoots him a look that suggests he’s considering it if Jean asks another stupid question. He bites his lip and nods, doing a quick full body check before he starts to skate. It only takes the first lap to build a comfortable rhythm, one that feels familiar to his body. On the seventh lap, he pivots around in a clumsy maneuver and grimaces when he spies Levi shaking his head from the corner of his eye. Maybe he should have put in a little practice over the last two weeks. 

“That was sloppy.” Levi says when Jean comes to a halt back at the start. “Five more.”

"Yes, captain.” Gritting his teeth, Jean does as told and pushes himself off once more. 

“Passable.” Levi mutters when he’s reached the end of the new set. It’s the closest to praise that Jean will ever get from the other man and he nods curtly. “Have you planned out the drills for today?”

"Yes.” Jean skates closer and Levi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-right. I-I spent some time over the weekend doing research and rewatching the recordings that you shared with me at the end of last season.”

"Walk me through them.” Levi instructs. Jean nods and plucks the first one from his brain, sighing when Levi asks for a demonstration. By the time he’s finished going through them, they’re no longer alone in the rink. Mikasa is sitting in the stands, Eren half-asleep as he leans on her shoulder, and Jean’s hand trembles when he sees them together. “Jean.” Levi snaps harshly in his ear. “Focus.”

"Yes, captain.” Swallowing thickly, Jean turns away and gives Levi his full attention. 

They go over the last few details and by the time Levi’s done highlighting a few suggestions for Jean to try, over half of the time has arrived and several are already geared up. Levi makes his way off the rink, immediately greeted by the group they’ve affectionately called ‘the Levi squad’ by the press since their early days as a team. They’re the oldest players, but they’ve perfected the art of the game over the last decade. In the rink, they are a dominating force that work together flawlessly. 

Jean does a lazy lap around the rink, offering a two finger salute to his best friends as he approaches them in the stands. Conny’s yawning loudly, rubbing at his eyes, and Sasha’s shoving a hash brown in her mouth. “Where’s Marco?” He asks, glancing around. “I thought you guys were catching a ride together.”

"He ended up calling last night and asking if we could find our own ride. I think I saw Pieck in the parking lot, she probably dropped him off.” Sasha offers up around a mouthful of food. 

“Great.” Jean’s mouth pinches as he glances toward the lobby. He’s not surprised that his best friend is still sleeping with the enemy, but he’s a little disappointed. Why couldn’t Marco have dated literally anyone else on the planet? Sure, Pieck’s gorgeous and friendly to everyone, but she’s a Marley Warrior through and through. Jean had really hoped that Marco would grow better taste over the summer. 

Checking his watch, he glances around the gathered team and clears his throat. “All right, everyone. In fifteen minutes, I want you on the ice. Stretches first and then we’re running drills.”

"Come on, man. Can’t we spend a few more minutes catching up?” Eren whines. Jean’s eyebrow twitches and he wonders if he pisses off Levi this much when the captain gives an order. God, he really hopes not.

"Ten minutes.” Jean says, ignoring the loud groans of protest around him. Levi squad are the only ones who don’t complain, already moving onto the ice. They start doing laps, chatting as they go, and slowly some of the others fall in line. 

“Nice job!” Marco says warmly, coming up to stand at Jean’s side. 

“Have fun with the enemy?” Jean turns and raises an eyebrow. Marco only laughs, shaking his head.

"Pieck says hello to you, too. I’m sorry if I’m late, we had to pick someone up.” 

"Not late yet. Gear up and get on the ice.” Jean flicks his gaze to where Eren is whining to Floch while lacing up his skates. Next to him, Mikasa’s geared up with her signature scarf wrapped around her throat. Jean almost wants to tell her to take it off, but he presses his tongue behind his teeth and holds that thought. It won’t do any good to start a fight this early in the season. 

Everyone’s gathered on the ice in the nick of time and Jean nods his approval, skating to the center. “Glad to see you all showed up. Now-“

"Wait, where are Levi and the new goalie? The coaches?” Eren interrupts. “We shouldn’t be starting without them.”

"As I was going to say,” Jean tries not to scowl, “we’re going to be getting started without them today. Levi and I reviewed the drills for the rest of the team and we’ll meet our new goalie when they’re done meeting with our coaches.” 

“Do you know who it is?” Petra asks curiously. 

“No. We’ll meet them soon enough.” Jean flexes his jaw and takes a deep breath. “I need our forwards and defensemen on opposite sides of the ice. We’re going to split off into groups and run some drills. Those not in the initial drills will be swapping in when I tell them to.”

"Yeah, we know how it works.” Eren mutters. Armin shushes him and Jean magnanimously pretends he didn’t hear it. 

“Samuel and Daz, you’re standing in as goalies. Pick a side.” Jean divides everyone up quickly, eagerly separating Eren and Mikasa the second he can. Eren gives him a murderous look and Jean only shrugs, smirking as he turns to give instructions. Everyone else skates off to the sides, settling in to watch the 3v3 drills play out, and Jean blows his whistle. The sounds of skates cutting through the ice and sticks smacking pucks is music to his ears. He skates up and down the center, keeping things moving as best as he can while providing constructive criticism when needed. 

Once everyone has run through the first drill, Jean shuffles the teams and changes it up again. He cycles through what he and Levi discussed, surprised when the first hour flies by. Aside from some snide comments from Eren, everything is flowing better than expected. Jean doesn’t think he deserves the credit for that. They’ve always worked as a well-oiled machine, even when they’re not at their best, and old habits die hard. As he blows the whistle to bring the next drill to a halt, he hears Hitch gasp dramatically and everyone turns. 

No fucking way.

Reiner Braun, golden boy to the Marley Warriors, cautiously steps onto the ice. He’s wearing one of their new blue jerseys for the season, the wings of freedom emblem stretched over his broad chest, and has a helmet tucked under his arm. “What the hell are you doing here?” Jean demands, voice frigid as he glares at the other man. “You aren’t welcome.”

"Captain Levi said I should come down here.” Reiner’s gold eyes flick toward the box overseeing the rink and Jean jerks his head up, eyes widening as he sees Levi and Erwin watching. “I’m your new goalie.” Reiner continues and Jean feels like he’s been punched in the chest. 

Reiner fucking Braun has been the bane of his existence for the last few years. Always cocky on the ice, wearing that infuriating smirk whenever he’s blocked one of Jean’s shots, and his confidence is well-earned. Alongside the Paradis Devils, the Marley Warriors have a damn near perfect record. No one’s left their team in the last two years outside of retirement and he should know because they’ve fucking tried to make trades in the past.

"Is this a fucking joke?” Eren scoffs and skates forward. “You think you’re good enough to be on our team?”

"Enough.” Jean snaps in warning. Eren glares over at him and Jean looks away from startled gold eyes. “We’re running drills. You’re doing laps until I figure out what the hell to do with you.” Reiner’s mouth flattens in a thin line, but he nods and pulls his helmet on. Wordlessly, he begins to move. “Everyone else, back to business.” He blows the whistle and everyone scrambles back to their positions for a 4v4 in the neutral zone. 

Jean trades out the team again and again, watching Reiner skate laps without complaint in his peripheral. How the hell is Reiner their new goalie? Surely there would have been some kind of press release about him leaving the Warriors high and dry at the start of the season. He’s got an alert for all news about teams in their league, but he hasn’t seen anything even remotely interesting. The Warriors had done their training camp early and the most exciting bit of news was adding Colt Grice to their roster, but he’d been replacing someone who was retiring early. None of that explains what the hell Reiner Braun is doing here. 

Blowing his whistle sharply, everyone comes to a halt. Reiner hesitates at the edge of the rink, in the midst of doing laps, and Jean scowls. “Fifteen minute break. Braun, come here.” He instructs. Everyone makes their way off the ice and Reiner skates over, his face unreadable as he pulls off his helmet. “So. You’re our new goalie.” He drags his gaze over Reiner and hums. Up close, his eyes are the color of molten gold and his hair, though it’s damp and sticking flat on his head at the moment, has grown out since Jean last saw him near the end of the season. He can also see the faint yellow of bruises smattering half of Reiner’s face, traces of purple lingering on the underside of his jaw. Whoever beat his face in did it recently. 

“Yes.”

“I’m your vice captain, Jean Kirstein. You’ll treat me with the same respect that you’ll show Captain Levi and our coaching staff.”

“Yes, sir.” Reiner’s voice faintly trembles with an edge to it and Jean presses his lips in a line. 

“You run suicides on your old team?”

“Yes, sir.” A muscle in Reiner’s jaw twitches and Jean grins. 

“Good. Run it three times perfectly. For every mistake, you start back at the beginning and we reset.” He thinks he sees a flash of anger, but the emotion is gone before it can take root in Reiner’s expression. 

“Yes, sir.” Reiner slips his helmet back on and slowly skates to the end of the rink. He’s barely in position before Jean is blowing the whistle and skating to the center to watch. 

Reiner makes it to the first line with no issues and Jean crosses his arms, nodding in approval. When Reiner surpasses it the second run and hits a hard stop just shy of the next line, Jean lifts his whistle and blows it sharply. “Again.” He commands, watching as Reiner skates back to the starting line. The second time, his stop is too sloppy and Jean blows the whistle again. “Try again, Braun.” He smirks as the goalie returns to the start. This time, he overshoots the first line by a hair and glances over at Jean the moment he recognizes the mistake. Jean waves him back to the starting line and makes a show of stretching his arms above his head, grinning. 

He’s feeling generous when he lets Reiner finish the first full run with no complaints. The second run is slower, but speed isn’t the key and Jean knows that. But when Reiner stops short of the first line when he’s starting his third run, Jean blows the whistle. “Run it back from the start. Do better, Braun. You’re not impressing me.” 

“Kirstein.” Jean’s blood runs cold as Levi’s voice cuts through the chatter of the rest of the team. He looks back at his captain and tries not to wilt under Levi’s flat stare. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Drills.” Jean says, flicking his gaze toward Reiner. “Sir-“

“Braun.” Levi raises his voice just slightly and Reiner comes to a halt, removing his helmet to show that Levi’s got his full attention. “Take fifteen. You’re on break with the rest of the team. Kirstein,” Levi’s gaze cuts him to the core and he flinches, “why don’t you show Braun how to do it since you think this is all just a game?”

“Yes, sir.” Jean says, skating past Reiner on his way off the court. 

“Captain,” he hears Reiner say, “I don’t mind.”

“I do.” Levi answers. Jean’s stomach clenches as he takes his position and waits for the whistle. He stops hard on the first line and then heads back, internally cursing himself for being an asshole. He’s supposed to be better than this. 

He doubletimes it, able to move efficiently in his gear far easier than Reiner could, but he’s worked up a sweat by the end of his third full run of the exercise. When he hits the starting point again, Levi beckons him over with a tilt of his chin. Jean can’t help but glance off the court, watching as the older members of the team have surrounded Reiner while the rest are glaring from the corner. Guilt churns through him as he comes to a halt in front of his captain, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

"I expect better from you, Kirstein. We all do.” Levi’s voice is low, but Jean still flinches like the man screamed in his face. He thinks he might have preferred it to the cold rage written in the other man’s eyes. “Your team follows your lead. Fix it by the end of practice.”

"Yes, sir.” Jean nods and waits for Levi’s release. He slowly makes his way off the ice, approaching where Miche and Hange are happily chatting away at Reiner, who looks caught between a rock and a hard place. “Hey. Braun.” He greets. Reiner’s spine stiffens at once and he draws himself up to his full height, though his shoulders hunch forward right as he gets there. “We’re going to run some plays in a minute. Levi and I will want you in goal. When we switch, I’d like for you to watch Floch and see where he can improve.”

Golden eyes widen and Jean tilts his head, waiting for the comment. “I-are you sure that’s a good idea? Sir.” He adds the last part quickly and Hange’s eyebrows shoot up while Jean internally groans. 

"You won’t be giving the feedback directly to him. You’re going to give it to me and then I’m going to figure out where to go from there.” Jean says as patiently as he can. 

“Technically, Hannes will be in charge of that.” Hange chimes in with a grin. “He’s our goaltending coach.”

"I met him in the box with the other coaches and Captain Levi.” Reiner’s gaze flicks briefly toward the rink. “Hannes has an impressive record from his own days, doesn’t he?”

"Which is why you’re lucky to be working under him.” Jean says, a little meaner than he intends. Miche levels him with an unimpressed look and Jean withers slightly. “He's got wisdom to impart, that’s all that I meant.”

"Hm.” Miche doesn’t say anything more and Jean flexes his jaw. 

“I should-“ Jean can’t finish his sentence before the whistle is blowing and Levi’s calling them back to the ice. Groaning, he hurries over to his gear and chugs half of his water bottle before going onto the ice. 

“Now we’re going to be splitting up. 3v3 with Reiner in the goal. I expect nothing less than the best from each of you.” Levi warns them. “Miche, Mikasa, and Jean. Eren, Hitch, and Ymir.” Jean’s gaze flicks over to Mikasa in surprise and she clearly feels the same way, looking apologetically at Eren. “Don’t make me repeat myself, brats. Everyone else, you’re doing passes on the other half of the court.”

"Yes, sir.” Everyone divides at once and Jean takes center against Eren after a quick rock, paper, scissors game with Miche. They don’t often face off against each other with their shared history, especially not like this, which means Levi’s in a rare mood. Great. He’s lost in his head, wondering how he can fix things, when Eren snatches the puck right under his nose and zips away. 

Scowling, Jean hurries after him and barely manages to block Eren’s first shot at the goal. Miche snatches up the rebound and comes around, narrowly avoiding a collision with Ymir as he shoots. Reiner blocks the high corner shot, sending the puck back to the center for the teams to fight over. Eren slams hard into Miche, his stick making brief contact with the puck, but Hitch swipes it away and lines up an impressive shot. Jean hears her giggle and shakes his head, impressed when Reiner blocks another high corner shot that Jean didn’t think was possible. 

The two teams circle each other, taking shot after shot and colliding whenever they can, but Reiner doesn't let a single one pass. When Jean’s own gets blocked, he even offers a tiny nod of approval as he circles back around the goal. In the end, Miche’s the first and only one to sink a shot. The second he does, Levi’s whistle blows and everyone skids to a halt. “Conny, Sasha, and Christa. Daz, Samuel, and Thomas. Swap in. Floch, take over for Reiner.”

Jean moves past the center line at once, pulling his helmet off as he goes to get his water bottle. When he’s drained another quarter of it, he feels a presence at his back. “You’re impressive as hell, Braun. You might just last on this team.” He says grudgingly. 

“Thank you. Your shots pack a punch.” When he turns his head, Reiner’s almost smiling. “Any tips you can give me against Miche for next time?” Normally, that request would make Jean bristle and snap about not giving away trade secrets. But if this is Reiner’s way of extending an olive branch, Jean would be a fool not to take it. 

“You’ll learn the more you train with us.” He softens the refusal with his own grin and Reiner nods, his lips tilting in that almost smile again. His head snaps around when Levi barks something at Floch and when the goalie falls flat on his ass in the goal, Jean snorts. “Go keep an eye on the kid, yeah?”

“Notes, right.” Reiner nods and departs, leaving Jean to close his water bottle before heading back onto the ice. He partners up with Marco and Petra, trading passes and practicing shots while Mina returns them from the goal. 

The hours pass by, Jean’s muscles aching more and more, and he feels like he’s made of sweat by the time Levi’s ready to call it quits. He’s collapsed in the stands, slumped sideways against Marco, when their coaches finally show up. “You’ve done well today.” Head coach Zachary tells them, looking around at each of them in kind. “We apologize for not being more present today, we had some administrative tasks that needed our attention. Tomorrow, you’ll be working with your respective coaches for the first half of the morning and coming back together as a team after lunch.”

“And you’re all making appointments with the nutritionist by the end of the week.” Erwin chimes in, ignoring the few groans of protest he receives. 

“Ugh, didn’t we get a new one for this year?” Jean mumbles, trying not to scowl. “I hate dealing with the new ones.”

“You hate all kinds of changes.” Marco whispers back, amused. Levi’s gaze shifts in their direction and Jean forces himself to sit up straight. 

After a few more instructions and a speech about the importance of connecting as a team, their coaches depart aside from Erwin. He wraps himself into conversation with Levi squad and Jean sighs, searching the stands until he finds Reiner. Miche and Hange are seated on either side of him, grinning and saying something while Reiner shakes his head. Hange gasps loudly, drawing everyone’s attention, and Miche lifts an eyebrow. 

“It’s tradition! You can’t say no in the face of tradition!” Hange exclaims. 

“You survived your first practice with us. We’re taking you out for drinks.” Miche’s tone leaves no room for refusal, but Reiner still looks hesitant. 

“Hey, Braun.” Jean says, raising his voice a little. “I’ll pick you up at 7.” How’s that for a fucking olive branch? “Come here and I’ll give you my number and you can text me your address.”

“Oh, I-“ Reiner’s mouth abruptly clicks shut when Hange nudges him with their elbow. “Yeah. That sounds great.” Jean nods, watching as the other man gets up and slowly makes his way to where they’re sitting. He pulls out his phone after a moment of hesitation, unlocking it and holding it out for Jean. Jean quickly adds his information and clicks save, locking the screen and then tilting it so it lights up. Huh. Reiner’s background isn’t anything personal, just a generic background of rain on a window on a cloudy day. Hell, he’s pretty sure it’s one of the stock wallpaper options that comes preloaded on the phone. 

“Text me and I’ll pick you up.” He repeats, wondering if Reiner will actually take him up on it. 

“Are we going to the usual?” Christa asks. 

“Yep! I’ve got it reserved and everything.” Hitch wiggles her phone up in the air. “See you all tonight.”

“Drink responsibly and call me if you need a ride.” Erwin says firmly as a few people get up to shuffle toward the locker rooms. “My spare room is also available if you can’t make it home for any reason.”

“No damages this time.” Levi adds. “It’s the start of the season, we don’t need to start a brand new tab thanks to you shitheads.”

“Are you not coming with us, cap?” Floch asks, tilting his head. “It’s tradition!”

“I’ll be there.” Levi clicks his tongue. “But it will be an early night for me.”

“Sugar’s working,” Hitch says with an innocent smile. Jean swears there’s a glint of fondness in Levi’s eyes and Erwin pointedly clears his throat. 

“Remember we’ll be starting at 9 tomorrow. Try not to get too hungover.”

“Yes, sir.” Half of the team salutes at him and he nods, murmuring something to Levi before departing. With a groan, Jean nudges Marco up off of himself and slowly gets to his feet. 

“Hit the showers. I’ll see you all tonight. Braun.” He glances at their new goalie and offers a smile. “Text me.” He waits for a nod before he climbs down from the stands, skates and helmet in hand as he heads for the locker room. The sooner he cleans up, the sooner he can get home and do some kind of deep dive. 

-

Marcel Galliard spotted among the Marley Warriors and raises the question: where is veteran Reiner Braun?

Jean clicks on the link and hums, scrolling until he spies a picture of the young man in the goalpost. His helmet’s off, a smile on his face, and Jean can’t help but wonder if someone ‘accidentally’ allowed the press to get this photograph of Marcel. He’s already spent over an hour scrolling through social media of the rival team, as well as tagged posts, but there’s no news about Reiner himself. Which doesn’t make any sense. A trade like this should be front page news in their world, so why is no one talking about it more?

Sighing, he tosses his phone to the side and flops over with a low groan. His eyes have only just slipped closed when he hears a key in the lock of his front door. “I’m naked!” He yells out once the door is shut, grinning as he hears familiar footsteps shuffle toward his bedroom. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Marco says before falling onto the bed next to him. “Hey.” His eyes scrunch a little when he smiles and Jean returns it full force. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay after practice today.”

“I’ve licked my wounds.” Jean grumbles while reaching behind himself for a pillow. He shoves it unceremoniously under his head while twisting onto his side. “I was kind of a dick today.”

“Full on dick mode.” Marco agrees. Jean pushes at his shoulder and his best friend laughs. “Hey, I’m on your side. I wish they’d told the team about Reiner joining us.”

“Yeah-“ Jean abruptly snaps his mouth shut and squints. “The team, huh? You already knew.” He accuses. Marco has the decency to look abashed. 

“Last night, Pieck called me. She said she wouldn’t mind picking me up to take me to practice, but she was also giving someone else a ride. I didn’t have a clue who it could be until we were in front of Reiner’s place. I don’t even know why she gave him a ride, but she also picked him up after practice today.”

“Great. Our enemy is on our team and I bet he’s spilling all sorts of shit to his friends.” Groaning, Jean situates on his back again and flings his arm up over his eyes. 

“He signed an NDA, I’m sure it covers that.”

“Like people don’t break those.” Snorting, Jean closes his eyes. “This whole thing is weird, right? I mean, he was on their team when their training camp started. Whatever happened, the change is recent.”

“Maybe you can ask him about it when you pick him up.” Marco suggests. 

“Or maybe get him drunk enough and spill his evil plan to the whole team. Ow,” he whines when Marco reaches over and flicks him in the ear. “Not cool, man.”

“He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Maybe you should give him a shot.”

“Who are you, my mother?” Jean snipes lightly. “I’ll try and play nice, but I don’t trust him. He shouldn’t be here.”

“He wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a good reason for it.” Marco points out. 

Jean toys with his lower lip between his teeth, considering that. He thinks of the faint traces of bruises still on Reiner’s face and something cold settles in his stomach. Maybe the guy really did need a fresh start somewhere. He can’t help but think of himself, staring down the bottom of a bottle and a string of meaningless hookups with faces that had blurred together over the last few months. “You want to order Thai for dinner?” He asks, already reaching for his phone. Marco nods and doesn’t press any further, leaning over until he’s resting against Jean’s shoulder. They order their usual and Jean sets a timer for the estimated delivery, closing his eyes again. 

-

At 6 on the dot, he receives a text from an unknown number. 

‘Hey Jean. Reiner Braun here. If you were serious about picking me up, here’s my address. If you can’t, let me know and I’ll order myself an Uber.’

It’s followed immediately by an address pin. It’s not far from Jean’s place, though it is in the opposite direction that they need to be going. He gives the message a thumbs up, taps that he’ll be there on time as planned, and goes back to finishing the shitty western he’d somehow been sucked into watching after Marco had left. It ends terribly, exactly how he predicted halfway through the movie, and he texts Conny to tell him to watch the greatest movie ever with a picture of the title. 

Getting ready doesn't take long, seeing as Marco already helped him decide what to wear earlier; black skinny jeans that make his ass and thighs look great, and a deep green Henley that compliments his eyes nicely. Checking his reflection in the full-length bedroom mirror, he decides he looks good enough to head out. What actually takes longest is deciding what car he wants to drive. Tonight doesn't feel like a night for subtlety, at least as far as driving goes. After some deliberation, he plucks the keys to his favorite sports car and heads out the door.

Traffic is lighter than it normally is around this time and he shaves two minutes off of his expected arrival, pulling into a nondescript apartment complex a few miles off the interstate. None of the cars scream money at him, the only thing that’s worth stealing is perhaps the motorcycle that he parks beside. He checks the pin, gaze flicking up in surprise to the door directly in front of him. Interesting. He’s never one to judge too harshly, but he’s at the very least surprised that Reiner hasn’t moved into one of the local luxury apartments in the area. Or hell, the guy’s played long enough that he could buy his own house if he wanted to. He surely makes as much as Floch does and that obnoxious brat has his own flashy mansion. 

Letting his car idle, he pulls out his phone and taps out a message that he’s outside. Then he tosses it into the cup holder and waits, tapping his finger off-beat to the goth rock song that Ymir had sent him earlier in the week. By the time the instruments fade, five minutes have passed and there’s no sign of Reiner. “You’re not chickening out now, Braun.” Jean kills the engine and rolls his shoulders back, tossing his keys into his pocket as he climbs from the car. 

He knocks twice and leans in, listening for any signs of life coming from inside the apartment. When he hears a hand at the lock, he quickly straightens up and clears his throat. “Jean.” Reiner’s eyebrows climb a fraction and then settle. “You’re early.” Jean sweeps his gaze over the other man’s face, surprised to find that all traces of bruising appear to be gone. Makeup, maybe? 

“No traffic.” Jean shrugs, stuffing his hands down into his pockets and leaning back on one heel. “I texted you.”

“Sorry, phone was charging while I was shaving.” Reiner offers an apologetic smile. “Come on in, I’m almost ready.” 

“Take your time.” Jean says, trying not to sound too eager about being invited into the guy’s apartment. All he needs are five minutes left alone to be able to snoop effectively. (And he’ll owe Ymir a beer for teaching him the skill. Maybe more depending on what he finds.) 

“I’ll be quick.” Reiner turns away from him and a flash of silver on his left ear catches Jean’s attention. A tiny hoop earring is fixed in place and he hums, tilting his head. He hates to admit it, but Reiner looks good right now. He’s wearing black slacks that hug his thighs in all the right places, accenting the curve of his ass, and has on a maroon button-up with the top two buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up, exposing some of the ink on his arms. 

 “Everything okay?” Reiner glances back at him and Jean flushes. 

“Yeah. I, uh, didn’t know your ear was pierced.” He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck. 

“Got it done when I was a teenager. My first act of rebellion.” A soft chuckle follows Reiner’s admission and he keeps walking, disappearing back into what Jean presumes must be the bedroom. 

“I didn’t know earrings were considered acts of rebellion.” He says. He steps further into the living space, casting his gaze quickly around the room. Disappointment fills him at once. He’d been hoping for a spark of personality, some secret glimpse to let him know who Reiner really is or what he’s doing here, but there’s nothing of note in immediate sight. The walls are bare, the furniture looks like it came right out of a magazine, and there’s nothing about the place that screams home to him. Jean knows what kind of salary the other man makes, so why the hell hasn’t he hired an interior decorator like everyone else? 

“They were in my household.” Reiner’s voice carries from deeper inside the apartment. Jean listens intently for any sounds of movement, but Reiner’s still tucked away in the bedroom. There isn’t a single touch of personality in the place. The only hint of decor is the key ring hanging on the wall behind the door, Reiner’s initials burned into it, and it looks like something a kid made in their shop class. He creeps further into the living room. There’s a large flatscreen hanging up over the mantle, a single book on the coffee table with a bookmark haphazardly sticking from it, and a single blanket folded neatly on the corner of the couch. As he picks up the book, he wrinkles his nose. The History of Marley’s Military doesn’t scream exciting to read. If he thought Reiner's home would give any insight into his personality, he was sorely mistaken.

“So, uh, how long have you lived here?” Jean finds himself asking, circling around the plain black couch and going to examine the kitchen. It’s as lacking as the living room. Which is why the single photo on the fridge catches his attention. He abandons his task of rifling through a tea drawer stacked neatly with boring coffee pods and tea bags to get a closer look. 

He’s surprised to see it’s a photo of a young woman in a graduation robe with her arms thrown around Reiner and a boy in a matching robe. Reiner looks happy, grinning so hard his cheeks are stretched wide, and Jean can’t help but smile. He checks the sides of the fridge for anything else, but all that’s there is a note pad that he presumes is used to make grocery lists. There aren’t even any indents he can try to decipher for clues. “What the fuck?” He whispers to himself.

"Apartment’s been mine for the last two years.” Reiner answers from behind him. Jean jumps, whipping his head around and feeling like he’s a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “That’s my cousin, Gabi, and her boyfriend, Falco. She mailed that to me in June a few weeks after the ceremony.” 

“She, uh, looks familiar.” He stuffs his hands down into his pockets and tries not to squirm too much when Reiner raises an eyebrow.

"I’d imagine so. She’s been to most of our games and hates the Devils more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

"I’m sure she’s thrilled that you’re on our team now.” Jean says. Reiner’s gaze quickly averts and Jean tilts his head. “She doesn’t know?”

"No one knows yet outside of our teams. Coach Smith asked me to keep a low profile until we can do a press conference in a few days.” Reiner shifts, looking uncomfortable, and Jean decides to take pity on him.

"Good thing we know how to be discreet.” He digs his keys from his pocket, turning and heading for the door. “Ready?”

"Sure. Thanks again for picking me up.” Reiner offers a glimpse of a smile and Jean wonders if the guy actually knows how to make a real one. He files that away under ‘questions to only be asked when he’s drunk’ and unlocks the shiny red sports car that’s sitting out front. 

“Like Hange and Miche said, it’s tradition. If you don’t drink, there’s plenty of non-alcoholic options.” 

“Drinking isn’t a problem for me.” Reiner says while getting himself buckled in. “I know I’m not exactly anyone’s favorite on the team right now, that’s all. I don’t expect to be welcomed with open arms.”

“Well, yeah. You were an enemy player for almost five years. People want to know why you’re changing sides all of a sudden.”

“And if I don’t have a good enough answer?”

“Then you’re going to get iced out for a while.” Jean warns him, checking his mirrors before backing out of the space. “Try not to take it personally. Eren’s a dick and hates everyone who steals a little bit of the limelight. Floch’s going to be jealous because you guys are in the same position and you’re a better goalie than he’ll ever be. Try not to let that go to your head,” he adds as an afterthought when he catches Reiner’s lips twitch up into a quick smile. “Mikasa will follow Eren’s lead, Armin will try and keep the peace, and Levi squad will do what they usually do and welcome you no matter who you are.”

“Levi squad?”

“Shit. Right. Yeah, Levi joined the team with his own group of friends not long after the team was started. Petra. Oruo. Eld. Gunther. Hange, Miche, and Moblit are kind of part of them, too.” Jean explains. “So we tend to call them Levi squad because they’re a giant pack.”

“Ah,” Reiner mutters. 

“Look, man. The rest are going to pick sides, but who gives a fuck?” Jean glances briefly at him, but he can’t look long enough to gauge Reiner’s expression. 

“And you?” Reiner asks softly.

“Undecided.”

-

Scout’s Honor is Jean’s favorite bar, the best in the world, and no one can convince him otherwise. He pulls up in the spot next to Sasha’s bright yellow Bug and kills the engine, glancing at the neon sign hanging above the place. The t is an upside down sword in design, though the handle is starting to flicker. He gives it two days before someone from the team has paid for the sign to be fixed. Hell, maybe tonight’s tab will be enough to cover the cost of repair. 

“I don’t think I’ve been here before.” Reiner’s gaze flicks around the parking lot and Jean nods, opening his door. 

“Its popularity comes and goes. It’s tradition to come here after every first practice though. I think it goes all the way back to when Hannes and Shadis first started out on the team.” He explains, clicking the lock button once Reiner’s door is shut. “We’ve had a lot of celebrations here, too. You’ll like our bartender, she doesn’t take anyone’s shit and she does shots with us. She might even play some games, too.”

“Games?” Reiner falls into step next to him as they walk toward the bar. “Like pool?”

“Why would I ruin the surprise?” With a smirk, Jean opens the door and gestures Reiner inside. “Try and have fun.”

“Sure.” Reiner murmurs, brushing past him and stepping through the doorway. A cheer goes up at once. 

“You got him!” Conny exclaims, walking over and putting a beer straight in Jean’s hand. “Reiner, Sugar’s ready at the bar for you.”

“Sugar?” Reiner looks between them in confusion and Jean claps his free hand on his shoulder, angling him toward the bar. She’s currently leaned over it and talking to Levi and Erwin, smiling at whatever they’re telling her. 

“Best bartender ever and a creative genius. She knows all of our orders by heart, but since it’s your first time she’ll want to get a read on you. She never fails. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He offers, already pushing Reiner in that direction. 

“And then you and I are kicking Sasha and Samuel’s asses in pool!” Conny shouts at their backs. Jean lifts his beer up in acknowledgement and puts the bottle to his lips, humming. Definitely not a bad start to the night. 

“Jean!” Sugar straightens up at once and comes over to him, leaning over the bar so they can meet in the middle for a hug. “Glad you made it! And that must make you Reiner.” She holds out her hand and Reiner shakes it, nodding. 

“And you’re…Sugar?”

“It’s a nickname with a long story and a crazy roommate.” Sugar laughs. 

“Glad you two could make it.” Erwin says, turned and facing the pair of them. “Has anyone explained tonight to you, Reiner?”

“No, sir. Only that it’s tradition to come here after the first practice.” Reiner’s gaze cuts to Jean and he nods his reassurance. 

“Really throwing him to the wolves, aren’t you?” Levi clicks his tongue and Jean shrugs. 

“It’s more fun this way.” He sips at his beer again, savoring the taste at the back of his tongue. “Another solid choice, Sugar.”

“I hope you didn’t think I’d mess up my perfect streak.” Sugar puts her hands on her hips and Jean shakes his head, grinning. 

“Never in a million years,” he promises. They’re five years strong on her commitment to expand his beer tastes beyond the occasional lite he enjoys. 

“Reiner,” Erwin says gently to grab his attention, “don’t look so nervous. Tonight is about bonding as a team away from the pressures of the ice. People are going to invite you to drink and play games so you can get to know each other better. And,” he adds with a stern look at Jean, “they know not to ask questions about your former team. Plays and player intel are not to be discussed. If anyone pressures you, I hope that you’ll be able to come to me and we can discuss it in private.”

“Yes, sir.” Reiner smiles cautiously and Erwin shakes his head. 

“Tonight I am one of you - at least for the first hour. Erwin is fine.”

“Here you go!” Sugar declares, sliding a whiskey tumbler across the bar. “Try that and tell me what you think.”

“Thank you.” Reiner offers that little smile again and Jean watches him take the first sip. “Peach?” He asks, taking a slower sip. 

“Well? Did I nail it or did I nail it?” Sugar asks. Reiner nods and Erwin chuckles from his place at the bar. 

“Miche, looks like you and I win again.” Erwin says, glancing over at the other man. Miche looks up from his table, bouncing a coin and tilting his lips in a smirk as he catches it. 

“Goddammit,” Jean mutters. 

“Win what?” Reiner’s gaze darts between the three of them. 

“Every time we get a newbie, bets are made on what their first drink will be. Erwin and Miche were the ones to win, so they’ll split the pot.” Levi explains. 

“You don’t seem the type to lose out on a bet.” Reiner’s head tilts, assessing, and Levi almost smiles. 

“That’s why I didn’t make a bet.”

“I did.” Jean grudgingly pulls out his wallet and slides a crisp hundred dollar bill over to Erwin. “I pegged you for a rum and coke.”

“Hate to disappoint.” Reiner barely conceals his smile behind the rim of his glass. “Sugar, how much do I owe you?” He starts to reach for his wallet and she shakes her head, pointing down the bar at a bright neon bucket. 

“Tips only tonight. Your drinks have already been paid for.” Her hands settle on her hips as she angles herself toward Jean. “You really didn’t tell him anything?”

“More fun,” Jean insists. Turning his head, he scans the room and frowns when he does a quick head count. “Where are Armin and Floch?”

“On their way.” The sound of Eren’s voice makes Jean grit his teeth and he turns, watching as the other man sidles in between him and Reiner to lean against the bar. “Hey, Sugar. Can I get another drink for Mikasa?”

“Coming right up. The same or something new?”

“The same is fine.” Eren flashes her a quick grin and turns back to Jean. “Floch’s car got taken for all his unpaid parking tickets, so Armin volunteered to go and pick him up.”

“Again? Shit.” Jean rubs the meat of his thumb between his eyebrows. “I’m buying that fucker a bus pass.”

“He’s going to lose his license at this rate.” Eren mutters. 

“I’ll have a chat with him tomorrow.” Erwin says with a nod to Levi. “For now, let’s keep this conversation between us.” Everyone murmurs in agreement and Jean glances at Reiner again. Marley’s golden boy is looking around the bar, seemingly cataloguing each group interacting to find out where to go, and Jean takes pity on him. 

“Come on, let’s introduce you to some people. Captain. Erwin.” Jean nods at both men respectively and ignores Eren, guiding Reiner toward the pool table. 

“You know I’ve met most of your team at various events, right?” Reiner murmurs. 

“Galas and dinners don’t count here, Braun. You know the public side of everyone. Now it’s time to meet who they are when they’re not on the court or playing nice.”

“No, I just meant-“ Reiner starts and then stops, his mouth clicking shut. “Never mind.”

"You’ve already met Marco, our favorite traitor.” Jean jabs a thumb toward his best friend who is in the middle of turning his phone over, his cheeks flushed. “Surprised you didn’t use your insider information to win the pot with Erwin and Miche,” he says while leaning down against the table and reaching for Marco’s phone. 

“Jean!” Marco tries to take it back, but Jean’s faster and twists away so he can unlock the phone and read the text that was just sent.

‘He’s going to be fine! Jean’s taking care of him. <3’

Something guilty rears up in his chest and he tosses the phone back to its owner, scowling while he drinks the rest of his beer. “Fuck.” He mutters when the final drop hits his tongue. 

“Seriously, Jean?” Marco’s frowning at him and Jean tries not to look like a kicked puppy. He’s pretty sure he’s failing miserably. “You just got here. Maybe slow down a little.”

“I’ll be good.” An ugly flush crawls over Jean’s cheeks while he jerks his thumb toward Reiner. “I’ve gotta drive him back at the end of the night.”

“I can always get an Uber.” Reiner tells him quietly. 

“Fuck that. What kind of teammate would I be if I made you find your own ride back? No one else lives out there. Speaking of,” he turns and leans on the table, “why the fuck do you live so far from Marley?”

“It’s only an hour,” Marco says. Jean ignores him and gestures for Reiner to answer. 

“I lived in another apartment during the season, but my current place was my off-season sanctuary.” Reiner answers, his gaze cutting to the side. It might not be a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. 

“Why this location?” Jean presses. “You could live anywhere else-“

“You made it!” Hange exclaims, popping up behind Reiner like a damn jack-in-a-box. 

“I did. Jean picked me up as promised.” Reiner says, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Thanks again for the invitation.”

“You’re part of the team,” Hange says while slinging an arm around his shoulders, “which means you get to drink with the team! It’s time for shots!”

“We were in the middle of a conversation, Hange.” Jean tries not to glower and they shrug, unbothered. 

“Looked more like an interrogation to me. I don’t think Reiner will mind being rescued from it.” 

“He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.” Jean snaps. Marco kicks him under the table and he hisses, reaching down to rub at his shin. “What the fuck?” He grumbles under his breath. 

“Come on, we’re buying your first round of drinks!” Hange declares, ignoring Jean, and Reiner casts a confused look back toward the tip bucket as he’s dragged away. Scowling, Jean continues rubbing at his shin.

“Seriously, Jean? Why are you being such an asshole to him right now? I thought you were past it.” Marco pins him with a look of disapproval and Jean tries not to wilt immediately. He fails spectacularly. 

“It’s weird, okay? Look, you didn’t see the guy’s place. It’s empty, Marco! It…it’s like the perfect hideout for a serial killer!” He waves his arms and Marco laughs, the bastard, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“He’s not a serial killer. I saw his place before you did, remember? He’s probably just waiting for the rest of his things to arrive from storage. Lay off of him, Jean. He’s not your enemy.”

“He literally played for our biggest rivals! Can you honestly tell me that you think he’s not going to tell them every last thing he learns about our team so they can win? One of the first questions he asked me was about Miche’s weaknesses!”

“Because he-“ Marco starts and stops, biting down on his tongue. “I’m not going to engage when you’re like this.” He says, rising from his table. “We can talk again when you’re not acting like a kid throwing a tantrum.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Jean grits out through his teeth. The weight of Marco’s disappointing stare hollows him out. 

“I’m always on your side, Jean. You’re my best friend and I love you, but you’re being an idiot. Right now, Reiner’s trying to find his place on a brand new team filled with people that don’t have many reasons to like him. He’s still here though. He’s here and he’s trying and right now, that’s more than I can say for you.” With a shake of his head, he picks up his drink and walks away from the table. Shame burns Jean’s face and he bites down on the inside of his cheek, swallowing hard. 

“So, uh.” He jerks at the sound of Conny’s voice and scowls at the other man, watching his nervous grin quickly dissipate. “I guess raincheck on the game?”

“I’m going to grab another beer and play darts and pretend it’s Eren’s face on the board.” Picking up his empty bottle, Jean strides across the bar and slams it down none too gently on the counter. Sugar pauses in her conversation with Levi and Erwin, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Club soda,” she declares. “I’m not serving you while you’re this pissed off.” 

“Fucking hell, has everyone decided to be my mother tonight?” Jean gripes, dragging a stool over and slumping down onto it. “First Marco and now you?”

“You probably deserve it. Face it, Jean. You’re a world class dick sometimes.” She slides a glass in front of him and fills it with club soda, lifting an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he mutters sourly. 

“Fine by me.” She shrugs and goes back to her conversation. Jean keeps his eyes on the bar, feeling Levi’s stare burning a hole in the side of his head. He drains the club soda, licking the last drop from his lips, and glances around the room as he turns himself on the stool. Before he can settle on a new group to join, he finds Petra walking up to him with a hand on her hip.

“Are you going to pout all night, Kirstein?” She asks, cocking her head at him. 

“I’m not pouting.” He flexes his jaw, leaning back and propping his elbows up behind himself on the bar. “Why is no one else concerned about Braun being here?”

“Oh, I think we all want some answers.” She leans up next to him and flashes a friendly smile toward Sugar. “Do you remember when Floch joined the team last year?”

“Unfortunately.” Jean mutters. ”He still worships at Eren’s fucking feet.”

“You were convinced that he was just some fan that didn’t deserve time on the ice. That he’d become a pro just to meet his idol.”

“Have you seen Floch in the goal? I’m still not convinced he knows how to play the game.” Jean bites out. When Petra pinches his arm, he hisses through his teeth and rubs at the spot. “What’s your point?”

“You hate changes to the team. We’re a great unit, but there’s nothing wrong with making adjustments and trusting our captains and coaches to make the right calls. We don’t always know what’s best.” She puts her hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes. “I don’t trust him, either. I’m not sure any of us do and we won’t until we know why he’s left his old team. But right now? We’ve got to put our differences behind us and accept that he’s here to stay. Levi and Erwin brought him in and above all else, I have faith in their judgment.”

“And if I’m right?” Jean lifts an eyebrow at her and she tilts her head, hand dropping down to the bar.

“Then I help you slash his tires.” 

“I’m the one driving right now. Apparently he lacks a car.” Jean snorts, shaking his head to himself, and tilts his head back as Sugar reaches them. “Hey. I’m sorry.” He tells her.

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologize to.” She fills three shot glasses and slides two over the bar. “Tell me something good that’s happened since the last time I saw you guys. It’s been a few weeks.” 

“I went on a date to that new butterfly exhibit that opened up!” Petra says immediately, lighting up as she angles to talk to Sugar. Jean turns in his seat and reaches for the shot glass, tracing his finger over the rim of it. 

“Okay, you and I are going to have a full breakdown of the date later. I want every juicy detail.” Sugar points at her and then looks at Jean. “And you?”

“Not much has changed since the last time I saw you. Bought myself some new video games to pass the time, nothing special.” He shrugs gently and they all pick up their shots, downing them all. 

“Well, you’re as lame as ever but that’s okay. I got a kickass new marketing job last month, but I still work here on the weekends.”

“Congrats on putting your degree to use,” he says earnestly. She beams at him and pulls a beer from underneath the counter, sliding it over.

“Go have fun with your team, yeah? I’ll catch up with both of you later.” She winks and heads down the bar, smiling as she greets Armin and Floch. 

“Come on,” Petra says as she pats his arm, “you and I are going to go get to know our new goalie.”

“Jenga time?” Jean asks, turning and glancing warily at Hange’s table where half of the team has now gathered. They’ve shoved three tables together and are busy building an impressive Jenga tower at the center of it. “Great.”

“Don’t be like that. It’s tradition!” Petra nudges him with her elbow and all but drags him across the room, releasing him as they pass Marco while she leaves him to rejoin Levi Squad. Sighing, Jean turns to look at his best friend and bites down on his lip.

“Hey. I’m sorry I’m being a dick and that I grabbed your phone.” He says quietly. 

“And?” Marco prompts, lifting an eyebrow.

“And that I don’t trust the golden boy and keep jumping down his throat.” Jean grumbles. Marco nods, seeming satisfied, and Hange claps their hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, darlings! Most of us have played this dozens of times over the years, but it’s a tradition when we get a new person on the team. For every block pulled from the Jenga tower, there’s a question on it. The person drawing it has to answer the question and our newest team members answers, too. Others are free to chime in. We play until the tower collapses. You can skip questions, but you have to take a shot when you do.” They point at the line of mult-colored shots spread across one of the other tables, well out of range of the Jenga tower. They’d learned that lesson the hard way and Jean still remembers picking glass shards from his clothes hours after they’d left the bar.

“There are also some blank ones, Reiner. That means you can come up with your own question to ask.” Armin offers a friendly smile in his direction. 

“A reminder,” Erwin says as he joins them at the tables, “that you will not ask questions about Marley’s team. Reiner is our goalie now and that’s what matters.”

“Are you playing?” Hitch asks him, her eyebrow climbing up. 

“Who else is going to start the game?” Erwin almost smirks and Jean grins. “Who do you think started this little tradition?”

“Your move then.” Hange claps a hand onto Erwin’s shoulder and squeezes. Jean’s gaze drifts across the table to where Reiner’s eyeing the Jenga tower like it’s a coiled snake ready to strike. Snorting, he takes a sip of his beer and watches Erwin make the first move. 

“Tell a story about an injury.” Erwin reads off the middle block that he’s pulled out. “I was once bitten by a dog when I was a child and I still have the scar around the knuckle of my middle finger and index finger.” He lifts his hand and tilts it, rubbing over the skin that must carry the scars. “I don’t hate dogs, but I am wary around them these days.”

“I’m not a huge fan of dogs either.” Reiner admits. 

“Bad experience?” Erwin places the block at the top of the tower and Reiner nods. 

“When I was a kid, my uncle kept one outside on a chain and he was the meanest dog. I wasn’t allowed to go near him.” Something flickers over Reiner’s expression that Jean can’t quite place. “But to answer the question…” He pauses, tilting his head a fraction. “When I was ten or eleven, I fell out of a tree and broke my nose. It never quite healed right.”

Before Jean can comment on Reiner’s slightly crooked nose, Marco elbows him hard in the ribs and he hisses through his teeth. Levi shoots him an unimpressed look and Jean wilts at once, covering his side as he takes a sip of his beer. “Asshole,” he mutters through the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m trying to help you.” Marco whispers back at him. When Jean looks back up, the majority of the team are watching him and his skin crawls with unease. 

“Anyone else want to chime in?” Erwin asks, glancing around the rest of the team. No one moves a muscle and disappointment floods Erwin’s face, dropping his mouth into a severe frown. “I see.” 

Fuck. They really are taking Jean’s lead. The earlier olive branch didn’t take and even though Jean arrived with Reiner, people are still hesitating. Time to prove that he’s buried the hatchet. He sets down his beer and leans forward, pulling a corner block with ease and flipping it around. “What are you most afraid of?” Jean rotates the block between his fingers and sighs, tilting his head back for a moment to stare up at the ceiling. He knows the answer, but he wonders if it’s too much honesty for a second question. “Well,” he sighs as he carefully places the block at the top of the tower. “I’m afraid of a lot of things. Mostly…that I’m unloveable.” He doesn’t meet the imploring gazes of his teammates as he lifts an eyebrow at Reiner. “What about you, Braun? Does Marley’s golden boy have any fears?”

“Never belonging anywhere.” Reiner clears his throat and Jean pretends not to notice the subtle flinch of some of his teammates. 

“I’m fucking terrified of clowns,” Conny offers up. “The Terrifier movies come straight from hell.”

“I’m afraid there will be one day a question that I can’t answer,” Hange sighs loudly and everyone chuckles. 

“Hurting the people that I love.” Mikasa speaks up, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear as she meets Jean’s eyes. “That’s mine.” He’s quick to look away, a sharp pang in his chest, and Marco leans into his side. 

“Draw a block, Reiner.” Levi instructs when everyone starts to look uncomfortable. Nodding, the man does as told and exhales a soft huff of disbelief.

”What made you join the team?” Reiner doesn’t hesitate when reaching for a dark blue shot and downs it in one smooth motion. When Jean reaches for a light pink one and drinks in solidarity, several people start to murmur. 

“I joined to meet chicks.” Conny declares. “And the fights looked like fun, too.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Sasha snickers behind her hand and Conny squawks his betrayal, lunging to try and wrestle with her. Five different pairs of hands shoot out to protect the Jenga tower and the closest shot glasses.

“Hange and I grew up playing hockey,” Moblit tells them while Daz and Samuel attempt to wrangle their other teammates back under control. “When Hange said they wanted to go pro, I said I would follow their lead.”

"We almost became Warriors back in the day, but Shadis and Hannes convinced us we’d do better on their team and the perks were too good to pass up at the time. And reuniting with Erwin? A huge bonus. We were best friends through college and when Levi was next up, we dragged him over to our side.” Hange chimes in, leaning in and grabbing a new block from the tower. “Sasha, no biting Conny.” They say without glancing at the pair. ”Our friends are not food.”

“They’re always like this,” Miche tells Reiner with a low chuckle. “Siblings separated at birth.”

“We called them the Twin Terrors on the Marley team.” Reiner says. 

“Oh?” Jean perks up immediately. “Did you have secret nicknames for all of us?”

“Not as many as you might think.” Reiner folds his arms over his chest. “They weren’t all bad things, either. Christa’s always referred to as the queen because you’re beautiful and strategic on the ice.” His cheeks are tinged pink when he looks at the petit blond and she blushes, beaming in response.

“Really?”

“Hey,” Ymir protests. “Don’t compliment her. Only I’m allowed to do that.”

“I don’t think that’s how compliments work, Ymir.” Mina chirps. 

“Hang on, I want to know my nickname.” Jean says as the girls begin to squabble. Reiner’s smile slips immediately and he bites his lip, starting to reach for a shot glass. “No no, come on."

“You’re not the only one who wants to know, Jean-boy.” Eren says over the lip of his beer. Scowling, Jean flips him off and stares down Reiner. 

“We’ve wasted enough time on this question.” Miche says while leaning forward to free a block. Jean bites down his protest when Levi looks his way and nods at Reiner. The conversation isn’t finished by a long shot. ”What’s your relationship status?” Miche asks. Chuckling, he tosses the block into the air and snatches it. “I think this may come from our dirty Jenga version.”

“Dirty Jenga?” Reiner’s eyebrow climbs and Ymir smirks over at him. 

“We’ve got a travel set we carry during the season when Conny drags us all out to parties.” She explains while slinging an arm around Conny and then Christa. “This was a tame question. You’re lucky.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll experience dirty Jenga before you know it.” Miche sets his block at the top of the tower. “Happily married and have been for over a decade now.”

“He married the first woman who ever hit on him.” Hange cackles and Miche shrugs, unbothered. 

“When you know, you know.”

“I’m taken by the love of my life.” Eren says happily, drawing Mikasa up against his side and pressing a kiss to her brow. 

“I’m pretty sure you all know I’ve been happily dating Pieck since last season ended. We’re still going strong and I couldn’t be happier.” Marco says earnestly. 

“Single.” Reiner murmurs. Several pairs of eyebrows shoot up in surprise, Jean one of them. Objectively speaking, he knows Reiner is an attractive guy. He’s caught Christa and Petra fawning over Marley’s golden boy in the past. 

“Me too.” Jean says. Erwin leans forward and wordlessly takes a shot. Levi and Armin do the same. 

As the game continues, Jean finds himself surprised at how honest Reiner is with them. He doesn’t hesitate to share stories, though he tends not to mention the Marley team very much, and Erwin only has to warn Daz and Eren off about pressing too hard for answers about the enemy team. Hange knocks down the tower in excitement about discussing their fascination with true crime podcasts and cannibalism and when it crashes down, everyone groans and takes a shot. Jean thinks the tension in the team is starting to break when Floch and Eren both approach Reiner as he’s drinking with Miche and seem to strike up conversation. At least that problem’s solved for the time being. 

Somehow, Conny convinces half the team to join in a game of flip cup. When Reiner agrees and goes with him to get a bottle of vodka to fill out the cups, Jean watches him stuff a few hundred dollar bills into Sugar’s tip bucket when no one else seems to be paying attention. He lifts his head to meet Jean’s eyes and the tips of his ears immediately turn red. Shrugging, Jean turns away and sets up the cups and arranges them around the table. They divide into teams and Jean finds himself between Reiner and Marco, Ymir joining them on Reiner’s other side. Floch, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin line up across from them. Ymir manages to down her drink and flip her cup over exactly two seconds before Floch finishes his and victory is theirs. At the other table, Sasha and Conny crow about their victory over Levi Squad and celebrate with Samuel and Daz. 

All in all, it feels like a good night. Slowly but surely, Reiner is welcomed by the rest of the team and everyone speaks to him like he’s an old friend. When Levi makes his escape for the night, he grants Jean a nod of approval and Jean rides that high for the rest of the evening. Sugar shouts for last call and everyone left takes one final shot together, choosing from a random assortment that their favorite bartender has poured for them. Jean practically gags on the taste of whiskey. He makes his way to the end of the bar and shoves a handful of bills into Sugar’s practically overflowing tip bucket, winking at her when she catches him in the act. 

“Good night, my favorite hockey players!” Sugar calls after the group as she ushers them out of the bar. Jean checks his watch and grins, pleased that he’ll probably make it home just after midnight. Maybe he’ll actually get some decent sleep tonight. 

“Come on, Braun. Some of us need our beauty sleep.” He says, clapping the man between his shoulder blades and guiding him toward his car. 

“Don’t forget what I told you. You’ll thank me in the morning.” Miche says while pointing at Reiner. 

“See you tomorrow!” Hange shouts before they hop onto Miche’s back. “Onward!” Giggling, they disappear across the parking lot with a piggyback ride and Jean shakes his head in amusement. 

“So?” He asks, tugging his keys from his pocket. Reiner looks over the top of Jean’s car and he grins. “Now you can say you’ve drank with the best in the league. How do we compare to your former team?”

“This was nice,” Reiner says while opening his door. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight.”

“Don’t sound so formal, man.” Jean shifts gears and whips out of his parking spot. “Be honest. Did you actually have fun tonight or was it all just an act?”

“It was fun,” Reiner chuckles. “We didn’t do that kind of thing back on Marley’s team. Sure, we could occasionally grab dinner and drinks after a win, but…we weren’t exactly what you would call close.”

“We’re a family here. A weirdly incestuous family since half of the team have hooked up, but still family.” 

“I…” Pausing, Reiner frowns and glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I was surprised by that,” he finally admits. 

“Erwin and the other coaches don’t discourage it, they just look the other way most of the time. It’s only an issue if it affects how we play.” Shrugging, Jean reaches for his air vent and fiddles with it for a moment. “We’re all adults.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Reiner murmurs. “Jean…about your nickname…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Jean says and flexes his fingers around the wheel. “I shouldn’t have pushed for it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to know. It’s not a kind one.” Reiner exhales loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Good thing I’ve got thick skin.” He rolls his eyes and holds up a hand when he sees Reiner attempt to speak again. “Seriously, drop it. I’ve got an ego and if you damage it too much, I will kick you out on the side of the road and make you walk home.” It’s an empty threat, but he doesn’t think Reiner knows him well enough to call his bluff. 

“…okay.”

It’s the last word spoken between them. The silence isn’t uncomfortable though and Jean chalks it up to the exhaustion that’s been pulling at him for the last hour. He drops Reiner off with a quiet goodbye and cranks up the music for the rest of the drive, pinching the thin skin of his wrists to keep himself awake. The trip home is a blur, but he remembers to down a bottle of water and painkillers before he falls into his mattress and succumbs to sleep. In his dreams, he’s haunted by pale golden eyes and almost smiles.

Chapter Text

“And are the other kids treating you okay?” Reiner rolls his eyes as he hears the question, shaking his head as he browses the inside of his closet. 

“Yes, mom.”

“Don’t compare me to that hag!” Pieck’s outburst is followed by a gentle laugh and Reiner cracks his own smile. 

“I’m doing fine, but you already know the answer to this. Don’t act like I didn’t catch Marco texting you at least a dozen times last night.”

“Dammit. I told him to be more subtle.” Pieck quietly laughs again and then sighs. “Seriously, though. You’re doing okay?”

“As okay as I can be.” Reiner finally settles on a black tee that’s only slightly different from the rest in his closet. This one has mesh cap sleeves. “It’s not where I expected to be right now, you know?”

“Thank god for the apartment. Have you started house hunting yet?”

“No. Not sure I should even bother with it.” Reiner tells her honestly, folding and slipping the shirt into his backpack. “If I don’t stay on this team, what’s the point of settling in the area?”

“You’re the most frugal person I’ve ever met.” Pieck groans and Reiner can picture her flopping down on her bed. “Do something for yourself, Reiner. When’s the last time you bought yourself a trashy romance novel?”

“Last week at the grocery store.”

“At least you’re not completely hopeless.” 

“Gee, thanks.” He finishes putting clothes in his backpack and picks up his phone from the nightstand, checking the time. A little over an hour before he’s due at the rink. “Hey, what do you know about Miche Zacharius?”

“He’s the hot one with the mustache, right?”

“I’m telling Marco.”

“When you do, ask him if he’s made up his mind about Colt.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to date him next?”

“Marco’s open to it, thank you very much. Answer the question.”

“I-“ Reiner exhales forcefully, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s one of the centers. And yes, he’s got a mustache. He’s hard to get a read on.”

“Marco admires the guy, as far as I know. Have you done an internet search on him? Or anyone on your new team?”

“I don’t do social media stalking like you do.” 

“How boring of you. Not a single player?”

“…one.” Reiner admits quietly. Kirstein. Arrogant vice captain who everyone seems to respect. Reputation for being a player. “I don’t want to let everyone else’s judgments cloud my own. This was supposed to be a fresh start.”

“It will be. They don’t need to know.” Reiner closes his eyes. That’s the whole damn problem. Someone will want answers and start digging on their own. Eventually everything will come out. “Besides,” she continues, “they’ll be too busy trying to get our secrets out of you.”

“Coach Smith said that’s off-limits.” A small smile pulls the corner of Reiner’s mouth up. “He set them in their place last night when a couple of them asked.”

“I know.” Pieck’s smug tone makes him roll his eyes. 

“Is there anything Marco didn’t share with you about last night?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me about your ride home with Jean. Did he interrogate you?”

“Not really.” Reiner’s fingers tap at his home screen to check the time again. “You didn’t tell me anything about Miche,” he reminds her, “and I know you’re holding out.”

“It’s not anything major. I had the biggest crush on him growing up and made out with his poster on my wall once or twice.” His nose wrinkles immediately. 

“I regret answering the phone.” Reiner drags his palm over his face, groaning. “Peanut butter or vanilla protein smoothie?” He asks, grabbing his backpack and cell phone to walk into the living room. 

“Peanut butter. Do you want me to give you another ride today?”

“No, thanks. I went and picked up my bike yesterday. I still can’t believe you took it into the shop for me.” He slides his phone over the counter and kneels down to find his blender. 

“You were complaining about the whining noise for weeks. And if I hadn’t done that, I never would have convinced you to let me give you a ride.”

“You’re damn right.” Grinning, he starts to rummage through his small pantry for everything that he needs. “Still up for grabbing dinner tonight?"

“As if I’d let you skip out.”

“True, but if you had plans with Marco-“

“I’m going to stop you right there. Marco is very excited to be spending his evening with Jean. Apparently his best friend has been complaining that I hogged him most of the summer.” He hears Pieck’s smug grin through the phone and rolls his eyes. 

“Blender. Just a second.” He tells her, pressing mute. The machine whirs to life with the press of a button. As he waits, he opens his text messages and hovers over the one he hasn’t looked at since last night. 

‘Why the hell weren’t you at practice today?! Are you sick??? Did aunt Karina do something???’

Sighing, he pours his smoothie into a glass and drops a metal straw into it before pressing the unmute. “Gabi texted me yesterday.”

“She and Falco came to see you and Colt at practice and she asked about you when you weren’t there. She was pissed none of us knew where you were."

“She’ll be even more pissed when she finds out the truth during tomorrow’s press conference.” Reiner mutters. He hesitates for a moment, sucking on his smoothie, and Pieck seems to read the silence for what it is.

“No one here has talked about it, Reiner. Magath…you didn’t see how angry he was when someone mentioned your name in passing. The NDA alone is enough to break the banks and then some. Our side will keep it quiet. if they don’t…” The threat hangs in the air and Reiner almost smiles. He sucks down more of his smoothie and hums. “For dinner, I was kind of craving pad Thai. Would you be down for that?”

“Yeah. There‘s a noodle place downtown I discovered last fall and I know that’s on their menu.” He glances at the clock above his stove. “I should let you get back to sleep for a few more hours.”

“I’ve actually got a yoga thing in half an hour, but I appreciate your consideration.” She laughs softly and he can’t help but smile in response. “Speaking of sleep…did you manage to get any?” Her voice gentles further and he closes his eyes. “Reiner.”

“I know. I’m working on it.” He tells her. “I got a few hours and I’ll try to squeeze in a nap before dinner.”

“Don’t overdo it today. That’s all I can ask.” She sighs. “Have a good day at practice and show them who the fuck you are, yeah?”

“Sure.” He rolls his eyes and groans as he hears her huff. “Pieck-“

“You are Reiner motherfucking Braun, everyone’s favorite goalie around the globe, and these guys are lucky to have you on their team. Show up and show them why they shouldn’t treat you as anything lesser than the best.”

“You’re being ridiculous, but thanks for trying to hype me up.” He chuckles warmly and she sighs.

“And you’ve been hanging around Gabi too much. Goodbye, Reiner. I’ll text you about tonight!” His phone goes dark and he snorts, shaking his head as he pockets the device. He chokes down what’s left of his smoothie and quickly cleans his kitchen, pleased when it’s practically spotless. With a final glance at the clock above the stove, he grabs his gear and steps outside of the apartment. 

“Oh, Reiner!” His elderly neighbor is climbing out of her Oldsmobile, waving with an arm clutching a bag of bread to her chest. “I was wondering if you were fully moved back in or not and then I saw that handsome young man pick you up last night. Hot date?” 

“Not even close, Mrs. Hughes. He’s just a teammate.” 

“Well if he’s single and looking for someone to spice up his life or rock his world, be a dear and send him my way.” She winks over her spectacles and he bites down on his laugh, nodding seriously. 

“Yes ma’am. I’ll let you know what he says.”

“Good boy.” Beaming, she reaches over and pats him on the arm. “And for the last time, call me Rho. Or Rhodora, if you must, but I’ll pretend I’ve gone fully deaf if you try that on me.”

“You’ve got it, Rho.” His smirk spreads when she seats his bicep and she shakes her head, turning to waddle into her apartment. 

Traffic is light this early in the morning and he makes it to the rink in under half an hour. The parking lot is mostly empty. He doesn’t spy a flashy ride that screams Kirstein but then again, maybe Jean’s the type to only drive his nice cars when he’s going out for the night. The thought comes from nowhere and he snorts, shaking his head as he makes his way indoors. The last thing he needs to do is entertain thoughts on Jean Kirstein. The vice captain is a spoiled brat, as egotistical as he is charming, and Reiner needs to stay under his radar at all costs. 

He enters the locker room and claims one of the corner lockers, tossing his backpack inside. As he sits down to begin putting on his gear, he hears low humming come from the showers and turns his head. Jean comes around the corner, white towel slung low on his hips, and Reiner’s mouth goes dry. Black lines of ink stretch up and down Jean’s body that bring art to life in ways Reiner has never seen. Fine lines and minimalist tattoos decorate his arms most heavily, snapshots of artwork that makes Reiner wish he’d studied more of it during his youth. The humming stops at once and Jean grins at him, something predatory and hungry that makes Reiner’s insides twist. 

“Like what you see?” He damn near purrs, lifting an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t know you had that much ink.” Reiner tells him, hoping he’s not blushing as he suspects he might be. “I usually see you with your arms covered by gear.”

“Fair enough.” The smirk pulls Jean’s mouth wider for a moment before he crosses to his locker. “I saw you’ve got some ink of your own last night.” He says, dropping his towel. Reiner’s gaze snaps to the floor as he fiddles with a strap. 

“I have a few tattoos.” He answers evenly. 

“Another act of rebellion?”

“What?” Reiner looks up again as Jean snaps his waistband of his briefs and grins over his shoulder at Reiner. 

“Like your earring.” He says. “That’s what you said when I picked you up, wasn’t it?”

“Oh. Right.” Reiner’s face heats up again and he clears his throat. “Tattoos came once I’d moved out and was on my own. Not sure if they count as rebellious.”

“My mom said she’d never understand why I had to ruin my body with each piece of fresh ink. I think she secretly loves them.” Jean says, his voice taking on a soft tone that Reiner’s used to hearing from people who are on good terms with their family. Envy strikes hard and fast in his gut. 

“What’s your favorite piece you’ve ever gotten?” Reiner asks, shoving down the unwanted jealousy. 

“I’ve got one that’s a matching set with Conny and Sasha.” Jean says, tugging his pants on. He turns, tapping two fingers against the outside of his shoulder. It’s two hockey sticks that overlap in the center, two flowers and a series of dots helping connect it in the design of an unfinished circle. “We got each other’s birth month flowers. We were out drinking one night after a win and decided we needed to celebrate with more beers and tattoos.”

“You three must be pretty close.” Reiner murmurs. “Our…my old team called you three Triple Threat when you came onto the ice together.”

“What’s with you guys and nicknames?” Jean asks, dragging his shirt over his head. 

“Zeke and Porco don’t like to waste time getting to know names. If it’s not the name of a hockey play or a woman, they have zero interest.” Reiner snorts softly. 

“Those bastards.” Reiner’s inclined to agree. “What about you then?” Jean asks. “Favorite piece of ink?”

“I have Icarus falling from the sky on my left arm.” Reiner tells him. He peels up his sleeve, prepared to show it off, but Jean’s not even looking at him anymore. Something akin to embarrassment roils in his gut and he hastily finishes getting dressed. The silence stretches for another minute as Jean applies deodorant and checks out his reflection. When he finally turns, Reiner’s fully geared up. 

“Ah. I thought I saw it peeking out from under your shirt last night. Is that the only one you’ve got?”

“No. I have a few more.” Reiner gets to his feet and picks up his skates and helmet. 

“A few more what?” He startles at the sound of Eren’s voice, glancing at the other man as he strides confidently into the locker room. 

“Talking about tattoos.” Jean beats Reiner to the answer. “You’ve got a few, right?”

“Yeah. Actually, I got a new one this summer with Mikasa.” Eren grins, chest puffing out a little, and Reiner frowns when Jean goes perfectly still. 

“Oh.” Jean mutters after a beat too long in an uncomfortable silence. “Mikasa said she never wanted to get a tattoo.”

“I convinced her.” Eren opens up one of the lockers near Reiner, still grinning. 

“Cool.” The sound of Jean slamming his locker makes Reiner flinch. “I’m going to hit the ice. See you guys out there.” He grabs his bag and storms from the room, leaving Reiner frozen in place and Eren shaking his head. 

“Wonder what crawled up his ass?” Eren mutters. “Hey, Reiner? I owe you a beer and an apology for last night. I didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“No apology needed. I know it’s strange being on the same team now.” Reiner assures him. The sound of approaching footsteps makes him shift anxiously. “I’ll see you later.” He says. “Want to check in with Hannes.” It’s not technically a lie, but he’s desperate to leave before someone comes in and throws another barb in his direction. He’s running on too little sleep to deal with those. 

“Yeah, sure.” Eren waves him off without looking and Reiner exits the locker room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Floch and Daz. The pair give him a wide berth of space and he sighs, going to sit on the bleachers so he can finish getting ready. By the time he’s finished putting on his skates, Hannes is standing in front of him with both hands on his hips. 

“Sir.” Reiner straightens at once and the other man nods, tapping an index finger against himself. 

“I’ve spent the last couple of days watching footage of you in the goal, Braun. You’re not bad.” Hannes tells him. “And it looks like you read the schedule so you know we’re on the ice first.” 

“I did.” Reiner says, thinking back to the helpful document that Erwin Smith had printed for him and sent along in an email. “Reviewing plays, running drills, and then looking at tape footage. Do I have that right, sir?”

“Cut the sir crap, Hannes is just fine.” The blond man tells him. “You’ve got it right. Nice that at least one of you will impress me this season.” He cuts his gaze to the side and Reiner looks over to find Floch shuffling over, skates thrown over his shoulder as he shambles closer. 

“It’s too early for this,” he complains as he drops down onto the bleachers. They angrily creak beneath his weight. “Why do we have to hit the ice first?”

“Because that’s how we set it up for rotation.” Hannes says, a thread of annoyance in his voice. “Stop whining or you’ll end up riding the bench for the first few games.”

“Like you’ll choose a Warrior over me in the goal.” Floch sneers lightly and Reiner exhales, looking away as he clenches his jaw.

“We’re all Devils here.” Hannes says sharply. The warning in his voice makes Reiner’s hair stand up on the nape of his neck. “Now hurry up and finish getting ready. Braun, with me.”

Reiner follows him obediently onto the ice and Hannes holds up his clipboard, skating closer. They spend a couple of minutes reviewing some basic plays until Floch joins them on the court. Once he’s ready, Hannes runs them through plays and drills until Reiner feels like his mind is melting. It’s hard to shake the teachings of his former coaches, but Hannes is surprisingly patient with him. When they’re rotated from the ice, he finds Miche watching him with a half-smile formed and accepts the nod of approval from the other man. 

Lunch is delivered a couple of hours later and Reiner finds himself sharing a conference room with Miche, Hange, Moblit, Marco, and Jean. He’d tried to sneak off on his own, but Miche had hunted him down with a sharp smile that was mildly unsettling. He hadn’t been too caught off-guard when Hange and Moblit arrived a couple of minutes later, but Jean and Marco trailing after them had him lifting an eyebrow. A small part of him wonders if Pieck is responsible somehow. He discreetly checks his phone under the table, but there are no new texts aside from one from Gabi. He ignores it and slips his phone back into his pocket before taking another bite of his gyro. 

“So, Reiner,” Hange says and he immediately straightens up. “Rumor has it your press conference and announcement are becoming official tomorrow.”

“Hange!” Moblit whines. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“Erwin knows the risks when he tells me things.” Hange waves him off and Miche snorts, picking up his water bottle and rotating it between his hands. “Besides, he’s already telling everyone else today. I just beat him by a couple of hours.”

“I-yeah. First thing in the morning.” Reiner answers, clearing his throat. “Coach Smith wanted it to be as soon as possible.”

“Have you talked to our social media manager about handling any of the blowback you’ll be seeing from fans?” Jean asks, stretching his long body and leaning back in his chair. 

“You know she’s been on vacation.” Miche murmurs. 

“She gets back this afternoon, doesn’t she?” Marco asks. 

“She does. I’m supposed to be having a meeting with her this afternoon after practice along with the coaches and Captain Levi.” Reiner affirms. 

“Bet you’re glad to hear that, big guy.” Hange leans across the table and swipes a chip from Miche’s plate. “You’ve been lamenting nonstop for the last three days.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” Miche sighs and looks over at Reiner again. “My wife is our social media manager.”

“That’s one way to phrase what she does.” Jean mutters. Reiner pretends not to notice Marco quietly scolding him. Miche hides his smirk behind his water bottle and nods. 

“I didn’t know,” Reiner says after a beat of silence. “How long have you been married?”

“Since a month after I met her.” Miche answers. “It’s been nearly eleven years. She’s the love of my life.”

The answer is so simple but it cuts deep in Reiner’s chest. He wants a love like that. He wants someone who will still talk about him after a decade as though they can’t stand to be away from Reiner for long. Deep down, he knows he’ll never get a grand love like that. At best he’ll one day find someone who tolerates his presence and that will have to be enough. He won’t become someone’s husband. He won’t be someone’s partner. Who the hell could love you? The words in someone else’s voice strike hot at the front of his mind and he takes a slow, concentrated breath. 

“So about this press conference,” Hange continues, “do you know who all is going to be there?”

“I will be.” Jean says and Reiner jerks his head up. “Don’t look so surprised. You need some players and their support. Captain Levi will be there, too.”

“Boo!” Hange exclaims, startling Reiner and Moblit. “How come Erwin never invites me to the press conferences?”

“I think it’s because you fought a reporter at the last one you attended.” Moblit says, clearing his throat. 

“I remember hearing about that.” Reiner says, tearing a small piece off his gyro and popping it into his mouth. “You rode the bench for a while and had to pay a fine, right?”

“And I’d do it again.” Hange winks over their glasses and Moblit huffs softly, shaking his head. “You haven’t had many fights on the ice, have you?”

A flash of fists and heavy boots fill Reiner’s mind. He shakes his head. “No. I got caught on the edge of one a few seasons ago, but I don’t tend to leave the goal for much.”

“How noble of you-ow!” Jean hisses. Instead of glaring at Marco, he’s scowling over the table at Miche. “Long-legged bastard.”

“Sorry.” Miche sounds anything but apologetic and the corner of Reiner’s mouth ticks up. 

“So, Reiner,” Marco smiles over at him. “Pieck mentioned that she has plans with you tonight. Something about dinner?”

“I-yeah.” He does his best not to squirm. “She wanted to catch up and mentioned that you and Jean have plans, too.”

“We’re going to check out the new barcade that’s opened up. I’m going to kick his ass in air hockey.” Jean declares with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. 

“In your dreams. Marco’s practically undefeated.” Miche chuckles. 

“I hope you guys have fun.” Marco says, his cheeks a light pink from Miche’s comment. 

“You’re not trying to recruit Reiner into your relationship, are you?” Hange raises an eyebrow and Reiner damn near chokes on the last bite of his lunch. He clears his throat a few times and picks up his water, watching as Marco laughs and shakes his head. 

“No, not at all. But…” Marco hesitates for a moment, biting his lip, and Hange’s eyes gleam at once. 

“Something has changed.” They declare. “Spill!”

“We’ve…uh…we’ve tentatively been talking about a third.” Marco’s blush climbs higher on his cheeks and Reiner automatically tenses. He holds his breath, waiting for some kind of blowback, but no one’s smile falters a fraction. 

“This the guy you talked about yesterday?” Jean asks him. 

“Colt, yeah.” Marco bites down on his lip and looks at Reiner. “Colt Grice. He recently became a Warrior.” He explains. 

“I’m familiar with him. I’ve actually known Colt since he was a kid. My cousin is dating his younger brother, Falco.” Marco’s face softens more than he thought possible and a shy smile creeps over his lips. “How did…how did you meet Colt?” Reiner asks hesitantly, wondering if he’s overstepping. 

“Pieck and I met up with him at a bar over the summer and grabbed some drinks together. He’s great.” Marco sighs and Jean rolls his eyes. 

“You’re practically drooling,” Jean warns him. Flushing, Marco straightens up and digs his elbow into Jean’s arm. 

“Anyhow,” Marco hastily says, “Pieck and I are going to talk to him this weekend about dating both of us.”

“I won’t wish you luck because you won’t need it.” Hange tells him with a smirk. “You’re a catch.”

“Don’t encourage this behavior.” Jean grumbles. Reiner presses his fist down against his thigh and waits. “I already barely see my best friend. Adding another to his relationship means less time with me.”

“And we all know Marco’s whole world revolves around you.” Miche says dryly. Jean flushes and the entire table chuckles except Reiner. He’s not entirely sure how to read the situation, but it doesn’t seem as though Jean is actually upset. 

The rest of lunch finishes in a blur of conversations about weekend plans and discussions of an upcoming scrimmage. It’s unusual for one after the end of the preseason and Reiner knows it’s because of his addition to the team. Everyone else had the advantage during preseason, working together and learning one another, but the Devils had been an ironclad team from early on.  Coach Smith’s retirement had been a huge blow to their team, an unexpected one, and Reiner can admit that he’s fucking terrified of filling the other goalie’s skates. Because after today’s sessions with Hannes and Floch, he has no doubt in his mind that he’s going to be the one on the ice. Floch’s too cocky, too aggressive, and it’s a fucking miracle that he’s on a professional team. 

When he steps off the ice for the final time of the day, exhaustion pulls heavily at his limbs and he knows he’ll need to shower now so he can wake himself up for the upcoming meeting and his drive home. He makes a beeline for the locker room, somehow avoiding being grabbed by the senior members of the team, and strips himself down with small winces when he’s in the shower. Ice cold water runs down his spine as he hears approaching voices and he grits his teeth as he drags a bar of soap over his body. He cleans himself methodically, pouring the last bits of concentration he has into everything, but it’s not enough to keep himself distracted. He’s painfully aware of every set of eyes on his bare skin and he prickles all over. 

“Shit, man.” He hears Conny mutter. “What the hell happened to you?”

He glances down at the smattering of bruises on his chest, darker around his stomach, and offers a shrug. “Can’t say.” He says, lifting his gaze and boldly meeting Conny’s wide eyes. “It looks worse than it is.”

“You look like Eren after he’s been a few rounds with someone. He’s always getting his ass kicked.” Jean says. 

“Shut the fuck up, horse face.” Eren snaps. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I hope you gave it to them twice as good.” Conny says. 

“Wait a second.” Eren suddenly begins squinting at him and Reiner clenches his jaw, closing his eyes and ducking his head back under the icy spray of water. “Are those from someone’s boot?”

“Boot. Fists. Elbows.” He keeps his voice painfully neutral and runs his fingers through his hair one final time before turning the water off. 

“Holy shit,” Conny whispers. Reiner ignores him as he wraps a towel around his waist and bends down to retrieve his shower caddy. Shame burns high on his cheeks as he makes his way back into the locker room to gather his belongings. He dresses quickly, hastily throwing his gear in his bag, and refuses to meet anyone’s eyes as he flees from the room. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing in the lobby, a cold sweat slicking the nape of his neck. 

“Braun!” He startles at the sound of a woman’s voice and jerks his head around, watching as a tall blond woman with a pixie cut approaches him. “Nice to finally meet you.” She extends her hand and he shakes it quickly, forcing himself to smile. “Nanaba Zacharius, head of the social media team and marketing. Thanks for sticking around.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He tells her. 

“I know you’ve had a busy day today so I promise we’ll make this quick. Come with me.” She instructs, already turning on her heel. He follows her into a nearby conference room, tensing when he finds three of the coaches waiting along with Captain Levi. Even though Nanaba’s email had warned him of their presence, he still finds himself waiting for the worst whenever they’re around. 

“Reiner.” Erwin offers a soft smile and some of the tension loosens. “Forgive us for intruding on your meeting. We wanted to talk before tomorrow’s press conference and explain our expectations between now and then.”

“Expectations. Right.” Shadis snorts softly and shakes his head. 

“Have a seat.” Dhalis Zachary gestures across the table and Reiner drops his bag, obediently taking his place. “Don’t look so terrified, son. You’ve done nothing wrong and you aren’t in any trouble.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nanaba mutters, heavily dropping into the chair next to him. “His social media presence is completely lacking. I’m going to have my work cut out for me.”

“Most people would appreciate a clean slate.” Levi raises an eyebrow and she shrugs, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up onto the table. Erwin turns his full attention to her, one eyebrow climbing, but she doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Tomorrow,” Dhalis continues, “you’ll be meeting us downtown for the press conference. 9AM sharp. You’re expected to dress appropriately and show up early so we can get everything squared away before we’re due in front of the reporters.”

“It should be an easy press conference. From what we’ve let slip to the press, they are aware that we are announcing our new goalie who is taking my position.” Erwin tells him. 

“And as far as I’ve seen, there’s no speculation that hints it could possibly be you. Nice job keeping your mouth shut.” Nanaba reaches over and squeezes his forearm. 

“We’ll announce you as goalie and do most of the talking to field any…less than scrupulous questions.” Erwin continues. “If there are any questions you are asked that you do not feel comfortable sharing, simply look to myself or Captain Levi and we’ll answer it for you.”

“Is there anything I should be prepared to answer outside of the standard?” Reiner asks. He knows the drill from years of experience, but this is the first time he’s stepped onto a brand new team.

“They might ask how you are feeling about the upcoming scrimmage. You should tread carefully about how you answer,” Erwin cautions him. “I do not mean for you to lie, of course. But people are going to read into every word. If you play it off as too easy, they will misconstrue your confidence and call it ill-placed.”

“Too hard and it’ll be like the team isn’t helping you in practice.” Nanaba finishes for him. “I’d like for you to stay off of social media tonight and avoid looking too closely at any rumors about tomorrow’s press conference. You’ll only make yourself nervous.”

“That won’t be hard to do.” Reiner says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He ignores the unread texts lighting up his screen and unlocks his phone, sliding it closer for Nanaba to see that he only has two social media apps on his phone. “I check them maybe once a week and you already know I don’t post anything.”

“That’s a discussion for another time.” Nanaba tells him with a small flick of her wrist. “We’re all going to be right beside you tomorrow. All coaches, Captain Levi, myself, and Jean Kirstein.”

“Kirstein?” Reiner’s brow furrows briefly and Levi nods. So he was telling the truth. But why?

“He’s vice-captain.” It’s the only answer he receives, but it’s apparently enough. No one attempts to clarify further.

“Do you need any of us to pick you up in the morning?” Erwin asks, clasping his hands in front of himself.

“No, sir. I’ll drive myself and meet you there right on time.” He assures the older man. 

“You’ll be expected around the back of the building. Park and come inside and try not to let anyone see you until we’re ready for the big announcement.” Levi warns him. 

“Once you’re done at the press conference, you’ll have the afternoon to yourself. Nanaba would like to get some footage with you if you have time. She’s going to be doing spotlights on all players before the regular season begins next week and it would be best to knock yours out as soon as possible.” Zachary clears his throat and leans forward. “The most important thing about tomorrow, however, is sticking to our story. That hasn’t changed.”

“Growth and new opportunities.” Reiner repeats the words that have been beaten into him like a new mantra. “And a chance to learn in the shadow of some of the best legends from the game.”

“Don’t say that in the vicinity of Magath or we’ll never hear the end of it.” Shadis mutters. “Bastard hasn’t stopped bragging about winning the damn Titan Cup last year.”

“I won’t.” Reiner allows himself a slim smile and looks around the table. “I promise that I won’t let you down.”

“We know you won’t.” Erwin says, confidence emanating from him that everyone else seems to lack. Or perhaps he’s just that easy to read. “Thank you for trusting us, Reiner.”

“I should be thanking you.” He can feel the pink spread across his cheeks and moves his hands to his lap, digging his fingers gently down into his thigh. “Not many other teams would have taken the chance on me.”

“No other team would have done that to you.” Levi’s voice takes on a sharp edge and tension fills the room. “You belong to us now, Braun. You’re a Devil like the rest of us. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

-

“So,” Pieck twirls the glass of red wine between her fingers and smiles at him, “did you manage to nap earlier?”

“I did.” His thumbnail briefly travels around the rim of his glass. “Two hours good enough for you, mom?”

“If you call me that one more time, I’m afraid this vintage will have to go to waste on that handsome face of yours.” She smirks at him and he chuckles, leaning back and nodding his agreement. “Wise choice, Braun.”

“How was your practice?” He asks. “How’s Colt fitting in with the team?”

“I can’t give away our trade secrets,” she winks at him and puts a finger to her lips, “but I think he’s adjusting fairly well.” She takes another bite of her salad, chasing a cherry tomato with her fork, and fondness swells through Reiner’s chest. “I know Marco let it slip what we’re planning this weekend. I have to ask…are you okay with it?”

“Me?” Reiner frowns. “It’s your relationship.”

“And Colt is like your little brother. You’ve always been protective over him. Falco, too.” A soft smile pulls at Pieck’s lips. “Only a couple of years younger than Marco.”

“I don’t care that you’re the oldest of the three of you.” Reiner insists, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re three consenting adults and if you guys make each other happy…that’s what matters. Colt’s got a good head on his shoulders and he already knows you’re insane.”

Pieck laughs, brushing her hair back over her shoulder, and nods. “Well. I’m certainly no Hange.”

“I don’t think anyone could be. They’re about as weird as we always suspected.” He can’t help but snort softly. “But Colt…he’s a good man. I trust you not to intentionally break his heart. Can’t really say the same for Marco, but he doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

“He’s something very special, that’s for sure. I love him.” Pieck says simply. That familiar ache spreads through Reiner’s chest and he nods, lifting his glass of bourbon and draining it in a smooth motion. “How are you feeling about tomorrow? Nervous?” 

“Terrified.” He admits, fighting the urge to rub at his jaw and the thin layer of makeup that’s coating his skin. The concealer is fantastic, but he worries it will fall apart under the cameras and lights he’ll be facing in the morning. “You guys will be busy with practice, right? No one watching?”

“If you think Zeke won’t conveniently schedule a break around the time the press conference begins…” Pieck trails off and bites at her lip. “We’ve got our own press release to worry about.”

“I know.” He presses the tip of his finger to the crease between his eyebrows and leans down on an elbow. “God. Why are we talking business right now? We should be celebrating something.”

“We can celebrate your-oh shit.” It’s the only warning he has before he feels a presence closing in at his side. 

“Reiner?”

“Fuck.” He jerks his head around, trying not to wilt as he watches Bertholdt take a few halting steps in their direction. “Bertholdt. What are you doing here?”

“Picking up dinner for movie night at Marcel’s.” Bertholdt casts a glance between him and Pieck. “I thought you were feeling under the weather.”

“I am,” Pieck says before taking a sip of her wine. She dramatically clears her throat and Reiner’s face flushes with color. “I’m allergic to the Galliard bullshit, didn’t you know?”

“Pieck.” Reiner frowns at her, but she doesn’t even blink. “Wait. Are you…are you guys doing a team thing?” He asks, shifting his attention back to his former teammate.

“Yeah. It was Zeke’s idea to get everyone together and Marcel offered up his place for the evening. Everyone’s there except for Pieck and Colt.” 

“Good boy,” Pieck mutters. Reiner decides not to kick her under the table for that. “Are you going to tell everyone what I’ve been up to, Bert?”

“It’s not my business. You know you’ll be all over social media tomorrow. Both of you,” he adds with a tilt of his head. “You’re not worried about any of it?” He asks, lowering his voice.

“I don’t think we need to be. We’re just two friends having dinner like we always do. Nothing different there.” Pieck flashes a dangerous smile. “Unless you’re suggesting we start a rumor that I’m having an affair with Reiner?”

“Knock it off.” Reiner warns her. “I don’t need Marco to be pissed at me thanks to your jokes.”

“Oh, he was right.” He doesn’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but he rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his former teammate and close friend. 

“Do you think we could talk later?” Bertholdt beats him to it and Reiner tries not to tense again. “Unless you’ve blocked me, of course.” A sad look fills his eyes and he reminds Reiner of a kicked puppy. 

“Didn’t block any of you.” Reiner tells him, fiddling with his empty glass to keep his hand busy. “I made my choice, Bertholdt. I don’t regret it.”

“I know.” Bertholdt opens his mouth, but someone calls for Hoover and his head twists around. The moment is lost and Reiner clears his throat, watching his friend’s shoulders slump as he looks back at them. “I’ll call you?”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He flashes what he hopes is a reassuring grin and reaches over, gently catching the man by the forearm. “It is good to see you.”

“You too.” Bertholdt clasps his arm firmly and nods before stepping away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pieck.”

“See you on the ice. And remember tonight is our little secret.” She winks at him and he smiles, nodding before he turns and walks away. “Well,” she sighs, “I can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”

“Too convenient.” Reiner agrees. It’s nearly an hour’s drive to get here for food and certainly not worth it for a team bonding exercise. Someone is trying to spy on them. 

“But who would send Bertholdt?” Pieck’s nose wrinkles briefly and Reiner hums, tilting his head briefly. When he looks back up, he sees Pieck has reached the same conclusion and they share a grin. 

“Annie.”

“Why go to all of that trouble instead of simply texting you?” Pieck lifts an eyebrow and he shrugs, already pulling out his phone and opening one of his most recent text threads. 

‘You didn’t have to send your Great Dane puppy to check on me. Pieck says hello.’

Bubbles appear onscreen immediately. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had a craving for mediocre pasta and questionable dessert. Lose this number.’

With an abrupt laugh, he turns his phone around for Pieck to read. “Always the little sister you never wanted.” She tells him. 

“She’s something.” Reiner clicks the side of his phone and starts to tuck it back into his pocket, but a series of sharp buzzes against his palm have him flipping it back around. Texts are pouring in from Gabi and there’s even an errant one from Falco. Before he can unlock his phone, he sees Erwin’s name flash across his screen with an incoming call and his stomach plummets. “Something’s wrong.” He tells Pieck, sliding to answer. “Coach Smith-“

“Good evening, Reiner. I apologize for the interruption.” He thinks he hears someone else in the background, but their voice is muffled. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your former team…”

“What did you do, Porco?” Pieck whispers. 

“What happened?” Reiner tightens his grip as his phone continues buzzing. 

“A former teammate of yours posted a picture only minutes ago with a caption that implied the whole team was present. Your absence was noted.” Erwin says gently. 

“Fuck.” He drags his hand over his mouth, glancing across the table where Pieck is frantically tapping away on her phone. “What do you want me to do?” He asks. 

“It would be best not to engage in any speculation. If anyone asks…”

“I can ignore my phone until after the press conference. I’ll mute everything.” Reiner tells him. Pieck flags down their waiter and Reiner’s stomach clenches. “How bad is this going to get?”

“I’m not sure. We will do what we can to handle the damage. This is not the end of the world or your career.” Erwin assures him firmly. 

“Didn’t think it would be, sir.” A bitter smile curves Reiner’s lips. At most this will shift curious eyes to his private life, but Nanaba wasn’t wrong. He’s practically a ghost on all of his social media. Everything is set to private, though his posts are minimal at best, and he has a couple of secret accounts that not even Pieck knows about that aren’t associated with his name. He’s going to be fine, but he knows his friends and family will be disappointed that he didn’t share the news with them before the press conference. His phone buzzes again. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening with the news. We’ll do damage control, Nanaba will be sending you an email with some extra precautions to take.” There’s a muffled curse and Erwin’s heavy sigh. “Hannes is calling, I’m afraid I have to take this. Do you have any questions?”

“None at all.” Reiner says, lifting a finger when their waiter approaches with his notepad in hand. “You should tell Nanaba that I’m having dinner with Pieck Finger. I don’t want her to get blindsided when photos come to light.”

“I see.” Erwin’s voice carefully gives nothing away and Reiner grins in spite of the situation. “Give Ms. Finger our regards.”

“Thank you for calling me. I’ll see you in the morning.” Reiner ends the call and taps at the first thing he sees on the menu when the waiter looks at him. “I’ll have this to go, please.”

“No, he’ll have the ravioli.” Pieck corrects. The waiter eyes them both and Reiner nods, flashing her a tight smile. “And the gelato to go as well.” She hands over a sleek black card. “Please go ahead and run my card, too. Thanks!”

“I could have bought dinner.” He says. His phone buzzes immediately and he swipes down on the screen, quickly silencing all notifications. “What did you find out?”

“The post has already been deleted, but…” Sighing, Pieck holds her phone out and he peers down at the image onscreen. It’s a screenshot of a post on Porco Galliard’s account, a selfie with the rest of the Warriors team gathered on the ice in the background. Everyone’s helmets are off and they’re clearly listening to instructions, but their faces are all visible. 

‘Great training day with the whole team! Love these guys and gals! Best team yet!’ It’s followed by a heart and a series of hashtags about the team, nothing out of the ordinary in the least. Any other day, Reiner wouldn’t have thought twice about seeing such a post. Today isn’t any other day though. He hands the phone back over and leans back, dragging his hand over his mouth. 

“Gabi’s going to be pissed.” He murmurs, gaze flicking down briefly where his phone now rests on the table. “I should call her.” His fingers twitch toward the device and then he aborts the movement. Calling his cousin won’t do him any good. He’s been dodging her texts for the last couple of days, what’s another night?

“She’ll understand an NDA, Reiner.” Pieck reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. Her phone lights up again and her gaze flicks down. “Marco’s calling.”

“Take it.” Reiner leans back and she eyes him for a moment before accepting the call. 

“Hi, hon.” Her voice grows softer and she smiles. “Yes, we saw the news. We’re still at dinner, but we just ordered our food to go.” She pauses, regarding Reiner once more. “Why don’t we reschedule for tomorrow night? I can pick you up after practice.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Reiner mutters, a high flush rising in his cheeks. She merely raises an eyebrow back at him and the flush spreads down his neck. 

“Consider it a date. Tell Jean I said hello.” She smiles, nodding her head. “I will. Let me know when you make it home safely, okay?” She hums in response to something and laughs before hanging up. “Jean sends his regards.”

“I’m sure he did.” Reiner rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t seem to like your new vice captain very much. What’s the story there?” She props her chin on both fists and he snorts, shaking his head. 

“He’s arrogant and hot and thinks he’s the best person on the ice. He’s a dick.”

“Hot?” 

“Of course that would pique your interest,” he mutters. “You’ve seen the guy.”

“And I’m sure you’ve seen him shirtless by now and in the shower.” Pieck’s eyes sparkle and Reiner rolls his eyes. 

“He’s got a nice ass and that’s all.” He admits grudgingly. “The fucker made me run suicides and restart them time and time again just because of who I am.”

“He also gave you a ride to the bar last night, didn’t he?”

“I’m sure it was because Captain Levi said something to him about playing nice. Kirsten wouldn’t know an act of kindness if it bit him in the ass.”

“The same ass you want to bite?” She smiles smugly and he flips her off. 

“I don’t want my mouth anywhere near him.”

“Whatever you say.” He wants to argue more, but the waiter arrives with their food in bags and returns Pieck’s card. As she signs a tip on the receipt, Reiner lays out cash and meets her gaze unflinchingly across the table. “All right, stop scowling at me.” She sighs and slips her card into her wallet, gesturing for him to lead the way. As they make their escape, Reiner pretends he doesn’t notice the phones pointed in their direction or the way Pieck wiggles her fingers in a friendly wave at each and every one of them. 

Half an hour later, he finds himself sitting on the floor instead of his couch with containers of food and cheap bottles of beer sitting in front of him. He’s changed into basketball shorts and a tank top and Pieck’s lost her skirt and blouse, his sweatpants low on her hips and one of his shirts loosely hanging from one of her shoulders. She spears one of his pieces of ravioli and changes the song that’s playing from her phone, immediately humming along to the next one. He shakes his head and steals a bite from her baked ziti, chewing slowly. 

“I don’t think tomorrow will be awful,” she tells him. “Be sure to put your phone on the charger tonight though. I’ve put an extra bottle of concealer in your pants pocket in case you need to reapply before or after the press conference.”

“Why do you insist on mothering me?” He asks, shaking his head a little. 

“Because if it were left up to you, I bet you’d be wearing that hideous blue suit that doesn’t match.”

“Hey,” he protests immediately, “I like that suit.”

“Whoever told you it went together was a blind liar that wanted to steal your money. I’m going to help Gabi steal it and burn it the next time we visit.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s awful and everyone knows it except you. Luckily I’m here to keep you in check. And as your best friend, I’m going to be here in the morning to help you get ready for your big day.”

“You’re not staying the night.”

“My spare key and comfy clothes suggest otherwise.” 

“Bertholdt would take great offense to you claiming his space in my life.” 

“Then it’s a good thing you can have more than one best friend. But admit it,” she smiles, “I’m number one.”

“I’m not admitting shit to you.” He stabs at the last piece of her food and grabs both of their plates, getting up and carrying them to the kitchen. “Gelato time before you leave?” When he turns his head, she’s chugging the rest of his beer and he rolls his eyes. “Really?”

“Looks like I’m staying the night!” 

“I could still get you an Uber.” He mutters as he grabs their gelato and two spoons, joining her on the floor again. 

“No way. If I leave, you’re not going to sleep. You’re going to spiral and then you’ll be too exhausted tomorrow to field questions and you’ll let those asshole reporters walk all over you.”

“I don’t think Erwin or Levi would let that happen.” A smile twitches at the corner of Reiner’s mouth. “Fine. You can stay, but I’m taking the couch.”

“God no. That thing is harder than a lump of bricks. We’ve shared beds before, Reiner. And unless you’ve suddenly developed an interest in women, I think I’m safe.” 

“You’re impossible.” He says, fighting a smile. 

“You’ve known that for years.” With a soft laugh, she flops onto her back and drags the gelato container closer. “Now we’re going to enjoy ourselves and order you some new fucking furniture. No wonder Jean thinks you’re a serial killer, this place is fucking depressing.”

“He what?” Reiner cranes his neck as he lays down next to her and she laughs, popping a spoonful of dessert in her mouth. 

-

Getting ready in the morning is easier than he expects it to be and he refuses to acknowledge Pieck’s look of pure glee when he admits he slept more than a couple of hours. She takes over applying the concealer once he’s dressed, carefully covering the bruises and any lingering traces of the dark bags that have a permanent home under his eyes. His stomach is in knots and he’s too wound up to eat, but he does manage a few sips of the protein smoothie that Pieck makes for herself. They leave together and she squeezes him in a hug, whispering that he’s going to be okay before he heads toward the pickup truck that’s sitting on the other end of the parking lot. 

Old country music floods the speakers at once and he cranks it up, humming along to a few of the songs as he makes his way downtown. Despite early morning traffic, he still makes it well before he’s due and parks around the back of the building as instructed. Nanaba is already waiting for him, Miche at her side, and she’s talking on two different phones while nodding at whatever is on the tablet that Miche is holding in front of her. As soon as she sees him, she says her goodbyes and hangs up rather abruptly and tucks both phones away.

“The man of the hour has arrived at last! Good to see you, Reiner.”

“Hey.” Miche nods his head and powers down the tablet, spinning it around and hugging it to his torso. “I told you he’d clean up nice.”

“Miche.” Nanaba smacks him lightly across the chest and Reiner chuckles, shrugging as he pockets his keys and walks closer.

“You’ve got a right to be concerned. Apparently my taste in clothing is questionable. My friend helped me pick this out.” He admits. Nanaba’s gaze sharpens briefly and Reiner wonders what dots she’s trying to connect.

“Well,” she tells him after a pause, “they have good taste. Leaving the top button undone is a nice touch.” 

“She certainly thought so.” Reiner snorts softly, thinking of the fight with his friend as they’d battled it out over the top button of his white shirt. It’s already a lower cut than a traditional dress shirt, but it doesn’t put him on display at least. “I’m sorry about last night-“

“I’m going to stop you right there.” She holds up a hand, her expression growing serious. “It wasn’t your fault. Your former teammate is playing a dangerous game and he’s probably looking at a hefty fine.”

“It won’t matter to him. He can afford it.” 

“Then maybe I’ll get him blacklisted from press conferences for the rest of the season.” Nanaba hums and for a split second, Reiner has no doubt that she could pull it off. “Come on inside, we’re only waiting on Coach Zachary. I believe he’s grabbing breakfast for everyone. I hope you like donuts.”

“I’m not sure I can eat right now,” Reiner admits. “I still feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about. Last night’s little debacle…all it really did was announce things ahead of us. We stick to the story. You’re here now, you’re happy to be here, and we’re going to destroy your former team this season and wipe those arrogant looks off their bastard faces.” Nanaba beams at him and Miche huffs a laugh from the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t think you can say those things, dear."

“I can say whatever the hell I want. Are you going to stop me?” She raises an eyebrow and he shakes his head, leaning in and kissing her cheek. 

“Never, my love.”

“Are you two seriously making out in the parking lot?” The sound of Jean’s voice makes Reiner’s spine stiffen automatically. 

“If that’s what you call making out, I think we need to schedule you an appointment with the eye doctor.” Miche says over his shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Nanaba smiles and Reiner nods, shoving his hands into his pockets as he follows the pair inside. Cool air blasts down at him immediately and he shivers, the hair on the nape of his neck standing up. 

“I see you found them. I was getting ready to send a search party.” Captain Levi says from further down the hall. Reiner swallows, watching the shorter man approach, and opens his mouth to apologize. “Don’t bother,” Levi tells him, “you’re right on time. The search party was for Nanaba.”

“I told you I had calls to make.” Nanaba waves him off. “Everything is fine. Their side hasn’t released a statement and Shadis tells me Magath is keeping everything under control.”

“If it were under control,” Levi says coolly, “then we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.” His gaze flicks to Reiner. “Rumor says that you were wining and dining the enemy last night.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Did I ask for an apology?” Levi’s eyebrow climbs a fraction and Reiner wisely closes his mouth. “It’s good that the public saw you out and about last night. It shows there are no hard feelings when today’s news breaks.”

“It only suggests Marco is getting cheated on, but sure.” Jean mutters bitterly. Reiner clenches his jaw. 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been seen having dinner with Pieck and it won’t be the last.” Reiner’s shoulders straighten in a line of pure tension. “Her relationship with Marco is public knowledge. He’s got nothing to worry about from me and if he doesn’t know that, I’m happy to talk to him.”

“Stop trying to cause problems, Kirstein.” Nanaba says. “Boys and girls can be friends, this isn’t some middle school drama.”

“Put aside your differences and act like you like each other. That’s an order.” Levi says firmly when Jean opens his mouth again. It snaps shut at once. “Reiner, Erwin wants to talk to you. He’s down at the end of the hall. Jean, come with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Reiner and Jean speak in unison and share a glare. He turns and strides down the hallway, focusing on a few deep breaths until he finds himself rounding the corner and coming face to face with Erwin. “Coach Smith.” He automatically steps back to give the man some extra space and clears his throat. “Captain Levi said you were looking for me.”

“Is that right?” A half-smile curves Erwin’s lips as he nods. “How are you feeling? Nervous?”

“Uh-yes. Sir.” Reiner amends quickly. Erwin dismisses it with a simple wave of his hand and Reiner swallows, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. “I’ve never been good at the whole talking thing,” he admits. 

“I find that hard to believe. You’ve been cool under pressure in all of your previous press conferences and Nanaba was impressed that she wouldn’t have to coach you very much. I’m going to let you in on a secret, Reiner. Are you ready?” He nods, licking his lips. “Fuck them.”

“W-what?” He stammers out nervously, his eyes going wide. 

“There are going to be people today who twist your words no matter how neutral they are. You’ll never please everyone no matter how hard you try. At the end of the day, you’ll be the one meeting the eyes of your reflection. Ask yourself what kind of man you want to be and let your answers reflect your intentions.” He reaches over, gently resting a hand on Reiner’s shoulder. “Regardless of your past, it is your present that matters and defines who you will be.”

“Inspiring speeches are kind of your thing, aren’t they?” Reiner’s lips twitch and Erwin chuckles, nodding and letting go of him. 

“I suppose they are.”

“I-thank you.” He swallows. “For everything.”

“You’re part of our family now and us Devils stick together. Remember that.” Erwin urges softly. 

When Reiner finds himself seated at a long conference table an hour later, he feels a sense of peace that he hasn’t felt fully in months. Captain Levi is on one side of him and Jean’s on the other, both wearing solemn expressions as they face the reporters crowded in the room before them. Dhalis Zachary, Dot Pyxis, Hannes, Shadis, and Erwin are all seated at opposing ends of the table. Miche and Nanaba are standing off to the sides with a phone and camera aimed in their direction. As the room settles, Dhalis clears his throat and leans toward his mic to address the room. 

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” He says. “It’s nice to see so many familiar faces. We promise to keep today’s announcement quick and then we will try and answer as many questions as we can.”

“Thank you, Coach Zachary.” Erwin smiles and addresses the room. “As I’m sure you all have realized, there is a new but familiar face joining us on this stage. We’d like to formally announce that Reiner Braun is now a proud member of the Devils and will be replacing me as the goalie for this season. As you’re already aware, Levi Ackerman was promoted to become the team captain last season to have a successful transition. This season, we are pleased to announce that Jean Kirstein is our new vice captain.” There are a few polite claps, but there’s mostly a low buzz of chatter among the reporters. “At this time, we’d like to invite questions for any of us that are present.”

Hands shoot in the air at once and Reiner tries not to squirm in his chair. Dhalis calls on a round-faced brunette and she beams, her gaze snapping to Reiner. “Mr. Braun, how does it feel to join the opposing team that you were instrumental in defeating in last season’s championship?”

“I’m excited for the new opportunity. This team…they’ve welcomed me with open arms in spite of me being seen as their former enemy.” He chuckles and the sentiment echoes through the room. “There’s incredible talent on this team and I’ve been grateful to share the ice with them as teammates for a few practices. I know I’ve got some pretty big skates to fill. No matter who you are, Erwin Smith is a legend that’s always loomed larger than life. Learning to take his place has been nothing short of a privilege.”

“He speaks far too highly of me,” Erwin laughs quietly. “I clearly haven’t worked him hard enough in the rink yet.” Another chorus of polite laughter. 

“How confident are you going up against your former team? Are you sharing secrets with your new team?” Someone asks. Levi stiffens a fraction and leans forward before Reiner can. 

“That would be unprofessional of us to take advantage and for Reiner to share intel. We’ll beat them fair and square. There’s no need to dirty ourselves.”

“As for confidence, I’ll admit I’m nervous. That wouldn’t change no matter what team I was on.” Reiner explains. “Being on the ice and in the goal…it’s where I belong. Regardless of if I win or lose - but I’d still like to bring home that trophy at the end of the season,” he grins and winks. 

“Mr. Kirstein, what’s it like stepping up and filling Levi’s shoes?” Someone else asks. “What’s it like having him as a mentor?”

“The good news is this wasn’t a complete surprise. We started discussing this at the end of last season before we’d finished our last few games.” Jean says, smirking. “It’s an honor getting to learn from one of the best in the game. I don’t love the extra early morning practices, but I’m already seeing a change in my skills and I hope we can reap the rewards throughout the season.”

“There’s nothing wrong with hitting the ice early.” Levi says. “If you want to be the best, you have to put in the extra work. Jean could easily be the best of his generation with a little extra help.”

“You say that like you’re decades older than me and not a handful of years.” Jean teases. 

“Rumor has it that you were seen at dinner with your former teammate, Pieck Finger, last night. Photos suggest the two of you were having an intimate dinner when the news broke early. Any comment on that?” A redhead smirks at Reiner, looking as though she’s trying to trap him, and he grins. 

“Pieck’s one of my best friends. We went to high school together during our senior year and hit it off immediately. We met up for dinner to try a local restaurant, but I wouldn’t call it intimate. I don’t think her boyfriend Marco Bodt would appreciate that.” He feels the faintest nudge of Jean’s foot against his own under the table. “Even if we aren’t on the same team anymore, we’re still great friends. Nothing has changed between me and my former teammates and there are no hard feelings. I did what I needed to so I could seek new opportunities and more professional growth, but the decision wasn’t because of anything personal.”

“With Reiner now on the team, do you think you’re a sure certainty for winning the Titan Cup?”

“Not at all.” Shadis speaks up. “As much as I want to brag and say we’re the best of the best, we’ve gotta put in the work just like every other team in the division.”

“It sure as hell helps that we’ve got the world’s best goalie on our team now that the previous title holder has retired.” Hannes adds, fixing Erwin with a look and then moving down the table until Reiner’s pinned by his gaze. 

“You flatter me, but I was never the best.” Erwin smiles, but Reiner can see the light pink in his cheeks. 

“I disagree,” Reiner says. “Coach Smith was a living legend and I hope no one’s counting on me to break his records.” A few chuckles break out across the room. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that. I may have money riding on you.” Erwin tosses him a playful grin and Reiner flushes lightly. 

For a few minutes, the questions dance around Reiner and focus on the team as a whole. The coaches take over and discuss performance and stats as well as the training camps that Reiner missed out on. He’s content to listen and absorb information, throwing in an errant comment when he can but ultimately leaving it up to the others. He highlights his own goals for the season, learning a new set of plays and a new dynamic that he’s eager to dive into. Everything seems to be going smoothly. Almost too smoothly, but he’s entitled to a little wishful thinking after a few shitty weeks. Nanaba motions that it’s almost time to wrap up and Erwin grants her a subtle nod. 

“How are you feeling about the upcoming scrimmage against Hizuru?”

“Nervous.” Reiner admits. “They’ve always been a solid team.”

“But excited. We’re going to mop the floor with them.” Jean adds on. 

“Don’t get too cocky.” Levi shoots him a look across Reiner. “Save your arrogance for the real matches.”

“Do you feel like you’re at a disadvantage entering an unknown right at the start of a new season?” Someone asks eventually. To his right, Reiner hears Jean softly swear. Erwin leans toward the mic. 

“Not at all. I speak for all of us when I say that we’ve been impressed by Braun’s career over the years and we are eager to have a man with his caliber of talent join our team. His addition to the team is no different than any other player.” His gaze cuts over to Reiner, considering, and he sits back with the faintest nod. Reiner straightens at once and all eyes shift to him. 

“I’ll be honest, it’s a bit daunting joining a new team that has been my biggest rival for the last few years.” He offers a chuckle. “They’ve been nothing but welcoming to me from day one. To them, I’m just another player on the ice who shares the same goal - winning the Titan Cup.”

“And this year, we’ll be the ones to take it home.” Jean boasts, oozing confidence as he smirks at the reporters. 

“I’m afraid we only have time for one more question.” Coach Zachary makes a show of checking his watch. “We’re due back at the rink for practice.”

“What do you have to say about the rumors that Mr. Braun was removed from the Marley Warriors for getting in a fight with his former vice captain?”

It feels as though a bucket of ice has been dumped down Reiner’s spine and his veins have frozen in place. His hand shakes under the table where it rests on top of his thigh and it’s a concentrated effort not to bolt and run. Next to him, he can practically feel the tension emanating from Jean. Erwin leans forward, but Jean beats him to it. “I’m sorry, are we seriously putting stock in rumors these days? Just last week, I saw a rumor that Floch was buying up all those life-sized cardboard cutouts of Eren so he could make out with them in private.” A ripple of laughter cuts through the tension and Reiner forces himself to inhale. “Reiner came to us because we’re the better team and he likes our chances of winning above his former team. We’re a better fit for him and it’s as simple as that.”

“But you’re not denying there was a fight.” A new voice challenges. 

“We’re not answering questions about something that didn’t happen.” Erwin says evenly. 

“Does anyone have a final actual question that’s worth our time?” Levi asks. There’s a ripple of unease among the reporters and Dhalis sighs. 

“We appreciate everyone for your time today and look forward to our next press conference with all of you. If you’ll excuse us, we have some housekeeping to attend to before returning to the ice.”

Questions are shouted at them as they rise and depart from the room. Nanaba attaches to Coach Zachary’s hip immediately while Miche falls back, slipping into the space next to Reiner. “You did good out there.” He says, slapping a hand between Reiner’s shoulder blades. “Don’t worry about the last question. The only brawls they need to worry about are the ones we’ll take to the ice.”

“But is it true?” Jean asks over his shoulder. “If you’re a liability or a threat…” He warns. 

“If you’re suggesting we made a mistake filling our team roster, Kirstein, then I suggest you say it now.” Levi warns. 

“I…no, sir.”

“You’re about as threatening as a kitten.” Miche nudges Reiner with his elbow, still grinning, and he tries to force a smile back. 

“Reiner.” He jolts at the sound of Erwin’s voice and looks up, nodding. “Don’t forget you have the rest of the afternoon off once Nanaba’s done with you. No practice tomorrow, but you have my number if you need me.” He holds Reiner’s gaze until he manages to nod. “Good.”

“Come on, Jean. I’ll give you a ride over to the rink.” Miche tells the other man, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Try not to break him, darling.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You like this one.” Nanaba grins and hooks her arm through Reiner’s. “We’re going to record some footage and then I’ll cut you loose.”

“Actually, can I have a moment to take a phone call?” He asks. “Now that the press conference is over…there’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Why don’t you meet me out back when you’re done?” Nanaba squeezes his arm and disentangles herself. “Not too long though!” She adds over her shoulder, already hurrying to catch up with Miche and Jean. Nodding, he pulls out his phone and powers it back on. Notifications begin to flood through and he sighs, going to his contacts and scrolling through them. 

“I’m really fucking pissed at you right now. What the hell?” A sharp voice demands halfway through the first ring. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Smirking, he wraps an arm around his torso and leans up against the wall. “Got time to meet me for a coffee later?”

“Buy me a proper meal and we’ll talk. Bring me a roll of quarters, too. These stupid laundry machines are the fucking worst.” He laughs and nods his head, briefly closing his eyes. 

“Yeah, kid. I can do that.”