Chapter Text
Marco grumbled, turning away from the harsh light boring holes in his blinds. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, glancing around. Huh. Where was Jean? Didn't he... Oh. Marco frowned. An empty bed in a cold room. He waited a few minutes. Maybe Jean was in the bathroom. Five minutes came and went and still no Jean.
He leaned back against the wall, letting his head knock harder than the rest of his body. Jean left him. To Jean this must have been just an uncomfortable one night stand. Marco let out a shaky sigh and wondered how long he had been gone. What would Jean say when Marco showed up at the game tonight? Would he even be welcome there... Marco had taken a big risk, going that far that fast with his boyfriend, but, it was consensual. Marco knew that was important but still, he felt guilty as ever.
Marco felt his throat tighten up, fire burning behind his eyes. He stood up to get dressed. Had to move or else... Or else he'd end up a sad guilty mess on the bed. But the flame persisted. He breathed out a shaky half-sob. He lost Jean. Lost him all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants. Jean would never talk to him the same. Jean wouldn't look at him the same or think of him the same. Marco cursed as he felt tears welling up in his eyes, his shoulders beginning to quake.
And then the door opened. Well not so much as opened as flew open, revealing Jean in... What was he wearing? One of Marco's t-shirts (a size and a half too big), his boxers, and... Marco's mother's apron. Marco bust out laughing, falling back into the bed, holding his stomach crying. He couldn't tell if his tears were left over from thinking Jean had left, tears from surprise, or tears from laughing so hard.
"Marco? Why are you crying?" Jean stood in the doorway, half panicked half worried.
"What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, hysterical, wiping his eyes. Jean looked down.
"Well.. we ruined my clean clothes yesterday and all I have left is my boxers and uniform, and I didn't want to walk around shirtless so I stole one of yours, I figured you wouldn't mind, and I didn't want to get it dirty so, the apron." A blush had risen to his ears. He must look pretty stupid. Baggy shirt, boxers that barely covered half his thighs, and his boyfriend's mother's hot pink apron. He rubbed the back of his head. "Okay maybe I do look stupid. But that's not the point. Why are you still asleep? Get your ass downstairs I'm trying to make breakfast… And I think I set your stove on fire."
Marco laughed and got up. As he walked past Jean he pulled him into a kiss, reveling in the fact that he hadn't actually left. They were okay. Jean pulled away breathless and smiled.
"Good morning to you too."
The two of them rendezvoused in the kitchen, Marco finishing the cooking as cleanly as he could. Jean sat disappointed in his ability to cook two fucking eggs without reeking havoc on his surroundings, notedly still in the girly apron. He was nursing a cup of lukewarm milk that Marco stuck in the microwave for him a few minutes before. It soothed the gentle nervousness in his throat with each small swallow.
Jean hadn’t had a moment of peace in his own mind since last night, images of everything replaying in slow, slow, beautiful motion. He’d never admit it to Marco but he had gotten off when he woke up, in Marco’s bathroom. Doing just what he’d told Connie he couldn’t do. He smiled strangely at the cup in his hand, catching Marco’s attention.
“What’s on your mind, Jean?” He placed two eggs, sunny side up, in front of Jean, obviously different from the ones that Jean had attempted to cook. Jean didn’t doubt that Marco could cook. Marco could do everything. The slight smile stuck on Jean’s face, glancing up towards his boyfriend humming gently as he scooped a forkful of egg into his mouth. Marco placed his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek on his palm, carefully watching Jean. Jean’s eyes widened.
“What the hell is this? Magic? Marco, who are you?” The small amount of egg in his mouth did wonders. It tasted better than any egg he ever tried, and if he was completely honest Jean didn’t even like eggs that much.
“I’m sorry I never told you Jean… I’m the master chef.” Marco smirked and Jean chuckled as his fork shoveled more into his mouth. “You need protein so you can be strong and kick some Titan ass.” Marco ruffled Jean’s hair, smiling sweetly.
“Are you kidding me? Have you even seen the gun show Marco? Huh? Have you?” Jean kicked his chair out from under him, sticking his arms out on either side of himself, flexing. Marco doubled over at the sight of his boyfriend in a pink apron flexing almost-non-existent muscles in a fashion worthy of a soap opera.
“Now, now, that’s enough. I’m getting intimidated.” Marco humoured him. Jean laughed and picked his chair up from where it had fallen and returned it to the table. On his way to the sink he stopped and kissed Marco's cheek with a small smile.
"Thanks for breakfast. It was great." He leaned in to whisper into his ear, his own reddening "Just like yesterday." He was about to move when Marco grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him to his lips, crushing them against his. Jean was surprised at first but went along with it, putting his plate on the table and placing his hands on either side of Marco's face and pressing them closer.
"I thought you had left." Marco confessed softly, resting his forehead against Jean's, admiring the blush that had risen in his cheeks. "I thought you hated what happened," he laughed in spite of himself. "I thought you-" he was cut off by Jean's mouth resting against his, shoulders being gripped tightly by his hands.
"Never." he told his boyfriend, staring him dead in his eyes. "I wanted to lie next to you until you woke up but, I had to pee… And! I was hungry, as you can see..." He gestured to the messy kitchen, "I didn't do a very good job." he chucked. "You know we should probably clean up... We've got a bit of time until the cook out anyway right?"
Marco laughed and nodded, his heart buzzing at Jean's words.
"My mom would probably freak out if she saw the house right now." Jean looked around. Shoes had been kicked off and landed in different places, socks as well; picture frames were sideways and crooked if they were even on the wall at all. Littering the hallway to Marco's room were shirts and another sock. Inside, pants were strewn about and boxers led the way to the bed where the sheets lay half on and half off.
The kitchen was a whole different story. Pots and pans lining the counters with egg shells on the floor and egg shells in the sink. Milk poured haphazardly and spilled, a burned chunk of... Something still steaming from the trash, the pan blackened from fire cooling off on the stove. Marco's side was much cleaner. A pan and a spatula and a stick of butter. Jean was a mess, as usual.
"I'll clean the kitchen, you pick up the clothes. Most of the clothes around here are yours anyway." Marco snickered as he picked up his and Jean's plate and brought it to the sink which needed to be clean before it could be cleaned. Jean smiled a little and nodded, picking up the clothes as he went along.
He tossed his and Marco's clothes into the washer, washing his hands after dealing with his... Dirty boxers. Fixing the picture frames were harder, having to put them back on the wall and straighten them. He could never tell if they were straight or not. He figured it was fine and wiped his hands on his apron. Shit. He forgot he was wearing that. He took it off and rehung it on the hook in the kitchen.
"Aw, I was enjoying you being my sexy housewife." Marco wiggled his eyebrows, drying his hands off with a towel.
"Yeah yeah yeah.." Jean said with a slight laugh, looking at the time. The cookout was an hour away, they had finished most of the cleaning but made a mistake eating before a damn cookout. Jean felt no where near hungry, he would probably blame it on his nerves later. It was their last game of the season. Marco wouldn’t be playing but he swore to himself he’d do his best for the both of them.
“Jean,” Marco bent over to pick up one of his shirts which wasn’t even involved in last nights affairs. “How did we even get this shirt dirty? Are your baseball clothes even clean? Jeez..” He shook his head slightly at the mess of it all. Jean rummaged through his bag and pulled out his uniform, he hung it over his shoulder and nudged Marco in the butt with his foot.
“Want me to strip for you?” Jean hoped to provoke Marco but he just tilted his head at him and raised his eyebrows.
“That sounds strenuous. Let’s not tire out the guns.” Marco teased, nudging Jean back. Secretly disappointed, Jean’s curious self trudged to the bathroom. He changed and came out to find Marco already waiting, ready at the door. This was the final game. Fall break was right around the corner and this could send them off on a good note. Jean felt things turning up for himself.
The day was hot and naturally, full of teenagers. They were greeted by Mr. Levi’s usual forced smile while he reluctantly flipped burgers. Jean was pretty sure that Levi was a vegan, along with his weird counterpart Biology teacher, Dr. Hanji. Poor guy. Flipping his meat for a bunch of kids. Connie and Eren were loitering by the grill, Sasha not far behind. The rest of the team around a small fire pit, which the school had set up specifically for team events. Coach Smith was ogling his iPad, paying little of his attention to the kids. Important baseball iPad business as it seemed. The Coach looked up for a moment, as if realizing something.
“Ah, we’re all here then! I’d like to thank you all for being such team players this season, we could not have done it without you. Literally. You are the baseball team.” he cleared his throat, “A-and I’ll pass the mic to Mr. Levi..!” He shuffled to the side. Jeez, Jean thought, what an embarrassing guy. Their chemistry teacher on the other hand looked like he just got shot in the heart. He shot Coach Smith a look that could kill small animals. Scary...
“I don’t coach you guys, I’m here preparing food for my colleagues,” He motioned towards Coach Smith. “Who are incapable of placing a slab of filthy meat on a barbeque.” He seemed to mutter the last part, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re all pretty mediocre at hitting balls with bats. Pat yourselves on the back, you’re going places, kids.”
“What an inspirational speech,” He murmured under his breath. Jean withheld the urge to get up and kick him in the face. Marco clapped a few times, the awkward cadence stopping as he noticed no one else was joining in.
After a while, burgers and hotdogs were passed around, as well as some vegan food. Hanji insisted on bringing some, especially because "she and Levi were vegan". He said it was just easier but everyone knew he was too picky to eat anything else. Most people took a whiff and passed it down, grimacing at the sight of it, Jean on the other hand actually tried it. And found he liked it.
He carefully put more on his plate, trying to balance the odd mix of foods before he sat down with Marco and the others. They stared at him as he ate it with a smile, really enjoying the weird food the science teachers had brought along. Levi looked at him with more respect, and Hanji came over and had an interesting discussion about plants and a bunch of other stuff he nodded at and pretended to understand.
Marco scooped a tiny bite off Jean’s plate and almost immediately spit it out. He grumbled and took a long drink to clear the taste from his tongue. Jean sighed.
Otherwise, the cookout was nice. Everyone got along. Even Jean and Eren, per Marco's request. A few lesser teammates complained about Marco's being there, but Coach Smith had made him an honourary member after the leg incident. He couldn't play or be in the dugout during games, but he came to most of the practices and the events.
Connie snickered as Mikasa wiped Armin's cheek. He shoved her off, blushing. Eren laughed until she did the same to him. After a while though it got quieter. There were only a few hours until the finals. Nerves were beginning to take over as food was left to cool. Not even Connie tried making a joke.
Until the reminder that the game would start in 10 minutes, everyone stayed quiet aside from the fart that came from either Connie or Sasha and the giggles that came after. Jean felt the familiar sting of nervousness run through him, Marco's grip on his hand numbing it somewhat. He wanted to make this count, and was determined to help his team become victorious. 5 minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and it was time to get out onto the field.
He guided Marco to the front of the stands, hands still together. Jean was too nervous to give a shit about people seeing them being affectionate. Leaning his forehead against Marco's, they looked into eachothers eyes for a few seconds before Jean was called onto the green.
"Break a leg." Marco smiled teasingly at Jean and gave his hand a squeeze.
"Ha-ha, very clever." Jean mocked back. He let go of Marco's hand and braced for whatever this game would throw at him. Literally.
Jean shook his hands as he jogged out to the field. It was the bottom of the 10th with a 5/5 tie that had been going since the top of the 7th, all thanks to Eren’s grand slam. No one expected they’d have to go into extra innings, but here they were. On Marian’s field during the Championship Game. Jean was the closing pitcher, and if he didn’t strike out Bertholdt Hoover, they’d go home empty handed. He tried blocking out the cheers and yells coming from the stands, to focus on the task at hand, but with so many distractions, it was obvious if he didn’t do this now he’d never do it at all.
It did comfort him to know the Titan on home plate looked just as much as a nervous wreck as Jean was. Lanky limbs jutting out, eyebrows knotted, sweat beading at his forehead. He relaxed a little when he heard his name from the dugout but he was still tense. Jean breathed in and threw.
Strike one. Another pitch. Ball one. Pitch. Foul ball. Pitch. Swing.
The ball and bat connected. Time slowed for both teams as the ball sank into Jean’s glove as it sped towards him. The air was pushed from his lungs as were the spectators from their seats. He coughed, trying to regain his breath.
As time caught up with Jean so did the news. They had won, and he hadn't even realized it till a minute later. Everyone was cheering and crowding him, the people in the audience were all standing, aside from the few parents of the kids from Marian who were disdainfully checking their iPhones and pretending they didn't notice all the noise around them; Bertoldt sat with his heads in his hands in the Titan Bullpen, Reiner patting his back sympathetically.
Jean scanned the crowd looking for Marco above all the commotion surrounding him, but couldn't see him. He shoved past everyone swarming him and was immediately greeted by a cheery face shouting praise for the winning team. Jean grinned and sprinted towards Marco. Marco tried jumping half heartedly, wrapping his arms around Jean, engulfing him. Jean stuffed his face into his neck, and then, without warning…
"I love you.."
Marco nuzzled against him, smiling, a little taken aback by the sudden confession. But Jean kissing him months back to confess to his crush was sudden too; they were a sudden couple and Marco wouldn't want it any other way.
"I love you, too." he hummed, hugging him tightly. Jean broke away and wrapped his arms around Marco's neck, drawing him into a kiss. He didn't care that they were standing on the pitchers mound in front of everyone, he didn't care that they had just won and his team was about to celebrate without him. All he cared about was the warmth he felt in his chest and the boy in front of him that shared his feelings.
They pulled away with a warm blush scattering their cheeks to Connie jogging up to them grinning, a large trophy in his hands.
"If you guys are done here, we'd like to celebrate." He handed it to Jean, who took it and Marco's hand as they walked a little behind the team.
At the end of the day Jean didnt care Jaeger had been named MVP, or that after all these years they had beaten the Titans and we're #1 again. And why should he? He had Marco, and Marco loved him too.
What could be better than that?