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It's rare that Shadis gives them more than even one hour off at a time, and with graduation looming only three weeks away he's been pressing them harder than ever, barked orders more familiar now to their ears than their mother's childhood lullabies. But teenagers are nothing but devious and clever, and after Sasha, Connie, and Thomas all faint during training on a sweltering hot summer afternoon, Shadis scowls in disgust and tells them all to take the afternoon off.
The three of them reappear only 15 minutes after getting sent to medical, all looking far more chipper than they ought for a group of people who'd supposedly just suffered from severe heatstroke.
"I can't believe you got roped into it. Shadis never would have given us the break if it'd only been Connie and Sasha."
They're leaning against the railing outside the boy's barracks, just the two of them, too tired from two hours of hand-to-hand combat to do much else than stand and gossip. A dozen yards ahead, Connie's trying - without success - to find Jean's ticklish areas and Sasha's begging Bertholt - with the same amount of success - to give her a piggyback ride around the perimeter.
"That's exactly why they asked me." Without the threat of Shadis' eagle eyes on his back, Thomas lets loose an easy smile and laugh. "They bribed me with some of Sasha's stolen stash but I would've done it anyway. Do you know how much my arm still hurts from yesterday's training? A lot. We deserve a break, right?"
Marco glances at him from out of the corner of his eye, the faint upward quick of his lips betraying the look of faux concern he's trying to hard to school his expression into.
"That looked like a pretty realistic faint, if you ask me.'
A flush creeps up Thomas' neck and he doesn't meet Marco's gaze as he answers, a hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. "It was pretty hot..."
Instead of mocking the other boy's moment of weakness, Marco just laughs, the cheery sound ringing out in the late afternoon sun.
"Maybe it's because of your sideburns. They look pretty thick." As if to prove his point, he reaches out two fingers to brush at Thomas' sideburns. They're soft, surprisingly so, and for a moment neither of them speak, Marco stroking Thomas' sideburns until Connie, too busy trying to escape Jean's enraged clutches and not at all looking where he's going, slams headfirst into a nearby tree and lets out a holler loud enough to wake everyone in the next village over.
At which point Marco yanks his hand away and Thomas slaps a hand up to where Marco's was only moments before, his previous blush making its way up his face with alarming rapidity.
"Y-yeah, they are. I should probably, I don't know, shave them during the summer or something—"
"No!"
At the vehement denial, Thomas whips his head around to stare at Marco, bug-eyed. Under the intense scrutiny, Marco can't help but turn bright red, freckles disappearing as his mouth opens and closes without sound. If they were to give out awards for best dying fish impersonation, Marco would've won right that second.
"I mean, that's a—a lot of extra work for only a little hair and it would make more sense to just take off your jacket if you start getting hot and..." He trails off before muttering, in a voice so low Thomas barely catches the words: "...and I think they look really nice on you."
They stand there in silence a little while longer, one too embarrassed to do anything but stare straight ahead and the other too surprised to stare anywhere but at the first. A minute passes. Slowly, hesitantly, Thomas' fingers find their way into the gaps between Marco's. Neither of them speak, content to acclimatize themselves to this not-quite-friendship-possibly-something-more.
Thomas breaks the silence first.
"Hey, want to grab dinner with me? If we head down to the mess hall now, we can get there before Sasha takes everything for herself."
Marco laughs, soft and pleased. "That sounds great."