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Marco peered down into the display case thoughtfully. The section he’d wandered to while waiting for one of the salespeople to be free was corner to corner rings, all tucked snugly away in velvet lined holders, stones glittering under the stores lights.
Between the different kinds of metal, stones, and styles it was nothing short of overwhelming. How did anyone make actual choices with all these options?
“Happy Holidays sir! How can I help you?” He glanced up to find a petite brown haired woman with reindeer antlers on her head standing on the other side of the glass, smiling at him widely. “A gift for your...mate perhaps?”
Marco hesitated, the thought that if he said yes Jean would somehow know and give him hell for it crossing his mind.
The woman’s smile became somehow wider and she leaned forward onto the glass, voice dropping into an almost conspiratorial whisper. “Someone you want to be your mate then?”
He didn’t laugh but it was a near thing; she looked so excited in spite of what had to have been a rough day that he wanted to take her seriously. It was the day before Christmas and Trost’s market district was full of semi-frantic looking people running from store to store, weighed down with bags and boxes. This store was no less full of people; they were packed in so closely it was hard to move around let alone get close to the cases or catch the eye of a salesperson.
“Something like that.” He said straightening up. It was closer enough to the truth anyway. “I’m actually here to pick something up.”
“Oh!” Marco wasn’t sure but he thought he saw relief in her eyes. “Someone who shops in advance! Whoever you're buying for is very lucky.”
He decided not to tell her it was more a matter of having to order something because he’d hadn’t been able to find something that said ‘Hey, sorry I kind of messed up your life but, upside, we got a cute kid out of it and, funny story, I think I might be in love with you. Also Merry Christmas’ than anything else.
Her eyes scanned the shop in a very deliberate fashion and that did get a laugh out of him. She winked then shifted back to cheerful professionalism. “I just need your name and I’ll pop back and get your order.”
---
“Take your coat off first.” Was the first thing Jean said to him when he stepped inside the house and dropped his bag on the floor. It was cold outside and there was already a fine covering of snow on the ground and more called for during the night; a white Christmas had been predicted and the weather was delivering.
Marco had snow clinging to his coat and gloves, though it was already melting in the warmth of the house, but that hadn’t stopped him from reaching for his daughter as soon as the door opened up for him. She was at Jean’s hip, bright eyed and gurgling softly, a tiny elf hat, with pointy felt ears attached to the sides, to match the elf costume she was wearing just barely sitting on her head. (The costume matched Jean’s hideous tartan elf cutout covered sweater very nicely actually.) Reaching for her first thing was what he always did.
Which was undoubtedly how Jean known it was coming and had been able to step back, angling his body and the baby, just out of reach before he could manage it.
“You dressed my daughter up like an elf.”
Jean arched an eyebrow. “Your daughter?”
“The Halloween costume was cute. The turkey one wasn’t too bad, but this.” He pointed at the booties on her feet and, in particular, the exaggerated curl over the toes that was tipped with a little bell. “This is terrible. Where did you find it?”
How had he even gotten it on her without her squirming away? Marco could barely get her into a onesie without it turning into a thirty minute experience. Jean was some kind of zen baby dressing master who seemed intent on using his powers for evil.
“My sister bought it.” Jean made a face then, when Marco tried to flick one of the bells, swatted his hand. “You’re dripping water everywhere.”
Marco rolled his eyes but did as he was told, yanking off his gloves and shrugging out of his coat and going to hang them in the hallway closet. “So, I was thinking-”
“Oh no.” Jean muttered. Marco ignored him
“That you should come stay with me for the rest of the break. You’ve got a few more days off don’t you?”
It wasn’t a real question; Marco knew Jean’s schedule almost as well as he knew his own but trying to get Jean to come out to Trost was something that had to be navigated carefully. Though hopefully his days of nearly three hour commutes (each way) on the weekends would be coming to an end before too long.
If tonight went well at least.
Jean didn’t say anything. Instead he shifted closer; Bella, knowing the routine well, put her arms up towards Marco and flashed him one of her toothless smiles. He scooped her up, laughing at her delighted squeal, and brought her close so he could drop a kiss to the top of her forehead and breath her in. For now her scent was still a blend of him and Jean (though more Jean than him most of the time), something sugary and a little woodsy mixed with ‘baby’, and it was soothing in a way Marco couldn’t quite put words to.
There was a kind of rightness in being with Bella, and Jean, that nothing else compared to.
According to his sire it was unnatural to be so far away from his daughter while she was still so young. The alpha desire to protect and provide for one’s pups, to keep them close until they were old enough to leave the nest, was supposed to be stronger than anything else and putting that aside was ‘strange’.
Marco would have argued that he wasn’t putting anything aside. He was just dealing with it as best as he could.
Everything had started out complicated and hadn’t become any less so after Bella was born. Maybe even more so because suddenly there had been a very real little thing that needed time and attention and care and to not be pulled in a bunch of different directions for the sake of everyone else.
There was a kind of anxiety that came with being so far away from her most of the time. He worried about things he knew were stupid to worry about. Was she eating right, was she happy, what was she doing in the moment, was she safe and warm...and it was stupid because he knew Jean was there and was more than capable of taking care of Bella with or without his presence.
Admittedly the ‘without’ part wasn’t as comforting as it could have been. There was always the strange lingering fear that somehow, between Sunday morning and Friday night, she’d forget who he was or not want to come to him.
“Dah!” She chirped, batting him across the face with a suspiciously wet hand. He smiled again then turned his attention back to Jean. The younger man was watching them, expression carefully neutral but Marco could read laughter in his eyes.
“You have drool on your face.”
Marco nodded his agreement but made no move to stop Bella from patting her hands all over his shirt and face as she continued to ‘talk’. Jean sighed then took a step forward, using the bottom of his sleeve to wipe Marco’s face and then Bella’s hand.
Which she promptly shoved back into her mouth. Jean bent down so he could look their daughter in the eye and, once he had her full attention, made a show of frowning and trying (but not really trying) to pull her hand out of her mouth; Bella giggled around her fist.
Marco watched, more than content to stand in the warm entranceway of the house and watch them. Then Jean glanced up, brown eyes every bit as bright as Bella’s and another smile on his lips, and Marco wanted nothing more than to kiss him.
Maybe it showed on his face because Jean flushed then straightened up and turned away.
Speaking of complicated.
He knew it wasn’t that Jean wasn’t interested or attracted to him (that ship had long since sailed and they had the ten-month-old to prove it) and it wasn’t that they didn’t like each other or get along, because they got along far better than Marco had ever hoped considering the circumstances.
It was just that he lived three hours away and a Friday night to Sunday morning relationship where most of the time would be spent focused on Bella wasn’t even close to what either of them really wanted, that they’d had a baby before they’d known much of anything about each other, that they still had a nasty tendency towards sex even though they always swore they were going to be just friends and co-parents, and that Jean still had to do the bulk of everything himself, Marco’s good intentions notwithstanding, and it was much harder to separate ‘Marco and Jean and Bella’ from just ‘Marco and Jean’ than he’d expected.
Hell, he wasn’t sure if there was a ‘Marco and Jean’.
“Bertholdt is here, by the way, and Charlotte is out but she’ll be back for dinner I guess. Everyone else should be on their way.” Jean took a step forward then stopped and inclined his head towards the kitchen. Marco took the hint and padded over, sticking his head inside.
Jean’s mother was standing by the stove, a book open in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. Something smelled fantastic and the kitchen table was already covered with food.
“Hi Ms. Kirstein.”
She turned slightly then beamed at him. “Marco! I didn’t hear you knock. How was the drive? Are the roads bad yet? How is your sister and her mate? Your parents?”
The questions came out rapidly and without pause. She shed her apron and set down her book as she spoke then crossed over and pulled him into a hug. Bella squealed and squirmed, flailing at them both as she was squished between them. Jean’s mother laughed then pressed a loud kiss to Bella’s cheek, drawing another squeal from the girl.
Jean laughed quietly from behind them. His mother smiled then, with one last pat to Marco’s arm, headed back to the stove.
He answered her questions, and about a half dozen more, while she rolled and dropped dough onto pans. She laughed when he talked about Ymir and Krista, shook her head and rolled her eyes when he talked about his parents (and their latest ‘when are you going to get married?’ kick.) and then finally shooed him away so she could finish the last touches on dinner.
Jean stood, leaning against the wall the entire time, wearing the almost affectionate smile he only let out when he thought Marco wasn’t watching him.
As if there was ever a time Marco wasn’t watching.
Which there wasn’t. He couldn’t be in the same room as Jean and not be completely aware of him.
“So? Come back with me?” He asked when they were sent from the kitchen with a plate of cookies in hand. Bella was making grabby hands but Jean was keeping the plate just out of range. “Ymir and Krista are going to be there for New Years. And my parents, who are terrible, but they’ll have presents so it almost balances out. Plus we can see the campus fireworks from my place and...other stuff.”
Jean rolled his eyes. “I remember. Being fat and miserable last year didn’t affect my memory. I just don’t know if I should-”
“You should go.” Bertholdt was sitting on the floor of the living room peering into a box of what looked like Christmas tree ornaments, wearing the ugliest sparkly green reindeer covered sweater Marco had ever seen, but he looked up and offered up a small smile when they walked in.
Marco stepped over a collection of brightly colored toys to get to the couch. He sat Bella down on the floor then sat down himself, watching as she crawled her way to the blocks and Bertholdt’s son, then looking around the living room.
The tree was in the corner a few feet from where he was sitting, brightly lit, sporting just about every type of ornament that could exist, no particular rhyme or reason to their placement, and then covered in a thick layer of silver tinsel. Presents were placed under the tree, some more nicely wrapped than others and a few even sporting ribbons.
There were stocking hung on the wall to the side of the tree, each one so covered in glitter it was hard to see the red and white material underneath. There was a new one added to the group, slightly smaller than the rest, boasting what may have possibly been an B in the glitter paint, resting between what Marco knew was his own stocking, gifted to him the year before, and Jean’s.
“I don’t need a babysitter Jean.” Bertholdt continued, bringing Marco’s attention back to the conversation, expression serious. “You don’t have to hang around Shiganshina for me.”
He looked...tired, which seemed to be how he always looked when Marco saw him, but he had a better reason than most to look that way. One of the twins was curled up in his lap, fast asleep, and the other was sitting next to him, studiously stacking blocks on top of each other. Marco had entirely too much pride to try and identify one from the other; they were two months older than Bella and from his, admittedly limited, interaction with them he was incredibly grateful to only have the one baby.
Two seemed like it was just asking to slowly go insane.
Jean’s expression became decidedly sour and, when he caught Marco’s eye, he shook his head. “Reiner is an asshole.”
Marco knew enough about things on that front to not ask any questions.
Bertholdt looked down. “He’s just...not himself sometimes.”
If anything Jean looked even more annoyed at hearing that. “So! Bertholdt is staying here for the night. He’s taking Charlotte’s room, which means you’re stuck rooming with me tonight. If you don’t mind.”
“If he doesn’t mind.” Bertholdt deadpanned. “What if I mind? I didn’t bring any ear plugs.”
Marco looked at the floor, suddenly fascinated by the carpet, and hoped the blush he could feel working its way up his face wasn’t too visible. Jean made a distressed noise.
“C’mon. My mom is across the hall.”
“Well, and I could be wrong here I guess,” Bertholdt said evenly. “But I think your mother is aware of the fact you’ve had sex.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bella is the result of immaculate conception.” Jean said as he flopped down onto the couch next to him. “I remain chaste and untouched.”
Bertholdt let out a loud laugh but immediately bite it off, wincing and looking down at the baby in his lap; for a second it was like they all were holding their breaths. When nothing happened, not even a twitch, Bertholdt chuckled softly.
“If you say so Jean.”
Marco leaned forward to brush a hand over his daughter’s head, knocking the hat loose and ruffling thick black curls, and nodded. “It’s all true. Completely untouched.”
Jean’s eyes slid over to him. “Don’t be a jerk.”
“I was agreeing with you.”
“Like a jerk.”
“Pah!” Bella shouted. Jean looked down at her then nodded solemnly.
“Exactly. Your father is a tool.”
Bella mimicked his serious expression. “Pah.”
---
The thing about holidays with Jean is that they were busy and loud. It wasn’t just Jean and his sister and their mother, it was all of Jean’s wayward friends and whoever they were dating as well, all crammed into the tiny house. So it was Mikasa and Annie, Eren and his girlfriend Mina, and Armin, plus the Kirsteins and Bertholdt.
After a lifetime of quiet holidays, assuming they celebrated at all, with his family it was a shock every time.
The card table was dragged into the kitchen and pressed up against the table in there and they all crowded around it, everyone talking and laughing so loudly it was hard to hear himself think. Then ‘friend gifts’ were opened to much applause and ‘oohing’.
He enjoyed it for the most part.
Once he got past the fact that Jean’s ‘before baby friends’, as Jean called them, kind of hated him. Though compared to the year before, when Jean had been 7 months along, hated everyone and everything, and everyone had been looking at him like it was all his fault, things were much better. Having Annie and Bertholdt there helped.
Less of an improvement was that he had to share Bella and Jean with everyone else.
It was a silly thing to be annoyed about. They weren’t ‘things’ and they wasn’t his and it wasn’t like he didn’t have a week before classes started again, which meant he’d have plenty of time with them both, or at least with Bella.
Still he couldn’t help but be happy to see everyone who wasn’t staying leave once everything was said and done.
“What are you smiling about?” Jean asked, looking as far from happy as a person could get.
It was creeping up on midnight and Bella was awake and unhappy. Jean was carrying her and pacing his room, rubbing her back and cooing but it didn’t seem to be doing much to quell her fussy noises or get her to sleep.
Marco pushed himself up off of the bed and held his arms out. Jean fixed a narrowed eyed stare on him for a moment then shuffled forward. Marco tried not to take the hesitation personally; Jean legitimately didn’t like to let people help him with anything, least of all Bella.
Bella’s face scrunched up when he cradled her close and he was sure for a moment that she was going to cry. Then her face smoothed out and, with a sniffle, she settled her head against his chest.
“Traitor. I think she likes you more” Jean said, looking scandalized.
“I’ve heard kids like the parent they never see more.”
Jean looked alarmed so Marco smiled to take the sting out of his words. He was rewarded with a soft snort. The younger man yawned then crawled onto the bed and stretched out. “That’s fine. You can keep her then.”
Marco tapped his fingers lightly against Bella’s back, smiling as she blinked dark brown eyes up at him. “I’d like to keep both of you.”
“Can we not-”
“I got you something.” He kept his voice low as he interrupted, not wanting to upset Bella. “Outside pocket of my bag.”
There was a moment of silence then the bed creaked and he heard the sound of a zipper being undone followed by a soft exhale.
“If there is a ring box in this bag I am putting you out on the fuc- on the porch.”
“Annie would let me stay the night.”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say because when he glanced up he found himself on the receiving end of an intense glare. He stared back as blandly as he could manage. Finally Jean let out an annoyed breath, all but an admittance of defeat, and reached into the green bag to pull out the small velvet box. He opened it, a frown firmly in place.
“...It’s a coin. On a keychain.” The frown dissolved into confusion as he plucked it loose from the box. “With a purple gem in it.”
“Amethyst. It’s the birthstone for February.”
Jean brought the coin closer to his face to look at it closer then flipped it over. Marco could see the moment he noticed that the coin was from this year, the year Bella had been born, on his face; first understanding and then a touch of fondness and finally confusion.
“Is this you trying to ask me to move out to Trost with you?”
“There’s something else. Same pocket, piece of paper.”
“That’s not an answer.” Jean pointed out as he leaned leaned over the edge of the bed and reached into the bag again. Marco stopped his aimless pacing of the room, worry settling into his stomach because this was the important part. Jean pulled out the folded paper a moment later. It was unfolded and smoothed out in short order then Jean was looking it over. Bella shifted, picking her head up and making an unhappy noise. He shushed her and started moving again, rubbing small circles on her back.
The air in the room felt different, almost oppressive as the silence from the other man stretched out between them.
“You want to transfer schools.” Jean said finally, sounding faintly bewildered. “I thought you said Trost U had the best medical program.”
“The difference between first and fifth isn’t as big as you’d think in the grand scheme of things. I’ll finish out this year and start in SSM in the fall.” Marco smiled as he spoke, hoping to add some levity to the moment. “I think my future medical career will survive and it’s not like you haven’t given things up. I think I can afford to let go of one or two things.”
Jean set the paper, an already filled in request for his transcripts for the purpose to transferring to Shiganshina School of Medicine, aside with an almost exaggerated amount of care, eyes never leaving Marco.
He wasn’t a fan of Jean’s serious face.
“It’s not a competition to see which one of us ends up with the least.” And there was the serious voice to go with the face. “I’m fine with my choices.”
“And I’m not okay with mine.”
Jean blinked at him, mouth pressing into a thoughtful line. “Why? I thought this was what we agreed on. I know it’s not perfect but...I never wanted you to change your whole life for Bella. You know that.”
Jean had been giving Marco outs from the time he’d told him he was pregnant; he’d followed the revelation with ‘You can just forget I even said anything, I’m not here to fuck up your life’, like he’d expected him to just not care or be able to walk away. Worse, Jean always seemed like he thought he and Bella were a burden or somehow wrecking his life.
He sat down next to Jean, carefully so as not to jostle Bella. He’d had a heartfelt speech all worked out but suddenly, sitting next to Jean in the stillness of his bedroom, it seemed better to just go with the simplest truth.
“Or, I love both of you and I want to change what we're doing for all of us so I’d appreciate if you’d just let me do it. That would actually be a great gift, by the way.”
Jean’s mouth opened then shut, a strange expression crossing his face. Marco pursed his lips, wondering if maybe that had been a little much. Maybe he should have kept it about Bella? One thing at a time did, after the fact, seem like it might have been a better way to go.
Finally Jean rolled his eyes and looked down at his hands. “Fine, if that’s what you want. Kind of hard to argue with that. Getting to spend more of your time changing diapers and dealing with me seems like a pretty shi-crap present.”
“You think?” Marco looked down at Bella, who had fallen asleep, mouth open, hand fisted in the front of his shirt, and a trail of drool working its way down her chin. “Seems pretty good to me.”
A good start at least.
Jean leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Merry Christmas then. I was just gonna dangle mistletoe over your-”
"That's fine too."