liquor on my lips || jeanmarco !blitz!

[[nyte]]

J E A N KIRSTEIN

I wake with my arms around another. His body is pulled to mine by hands that I do not remember moving and confusion gives way to the railroad stake settled into the center of my skull. Ring. Ring. Ring. The stake is dug deeper into the bone with every mighty swing and if I had the strength to move I would look to see who has settled so perfectly within my arms.

But I can tell by his smell. A familiar, sweet sort of scent that I would recognize anywhere- even on my death bed. (And I certainly feel that is where I lay right now.) The night before is nothing but a blur, emotions and whiskey- the burning of my throat and of my tongue. Anger, anxiety. I can't remember a thing, but I'm not sure I want to. My hand shakes when I lift it- pressing the palm to my forehead and trying to ignore the nauseating way my head is spinning. Protesting as I tear myself away from previous harmony.

I think that Marco is the only man I can wake up next to without feeling the slightest bit weird. We were roommates for the longest time, I grew to love the peaceful way his body rises and falls in time with his breath, the way his eyes flutter in sleep and rest like butterfly's wings upon his spotted cheeks.

We're close, share a bond that might be easy to misunderstand as an outsider looking in. He's the best friend I've ever had- the person who understands me most. I don't mind being close to him, I don't care what Jaeger might mutter under his breath with that same ear-shattering squeak, it's not like that. Both Marco and I know it.

"You're the second best thing to wake up to after blacking out." I tease, propping myself up against the headboard and playing with a flyaway strand of Marco's hair. "Right behind a gorgeous lady."

[Python]

 

Alcohol at noon; he knew that meant trouble. Jean typically didn’t start so early, so something must’ve triggered the desire. Marco decided against asking. It could’ve been anything – an encounter with Eren or an unpleasant order from the Captain. Either way, Marco knew he couldn’t leave Jean’s side tonight. Someone would have to watch over him, not to mention his hangover would be hell on earth. What kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t take care of Jean?

He was always up for the task.

As expected, shenanigans ensued at the New Years gathering. Eren baited Jean with the first truth or dare question, and Jean fired back. Marco, feeling the heat radiating from Jean as he draped himself over his lap, could sense that something in Armin was off-kilter after the dare. He knew Arlert very well – they always cleaned the squad’s gear together. They knew everyone’s scratches and dents, how Eren’s were always banged up while Historia’s were always pristine. Forcing Reiner into Jean’s lap had to be a subtle sort of revenge. Armin didn’t just do things without tactical reasoning.

Marco scooted away and kept to himself. He smiled at the light-hearted dares and turned away in slight embarrassment at the rest. Jean was a furnace – constant fumes and complaining until Marco was finally back at his side. He wouldn’t remember any of this, he realized. So he took him home.

Sharing a bed with Jean wasn’t new. He woke up encased in two strong arms and he tried to think nothing of it. Jean could be clingy, but that’s all he would be.

Marco rolled his eyes playfully. ”I always strive to be second best.” Laughing, he rubbed the corners of his eyes and sat up.

”Also, I’m glad you’re alive.”

M A R C O  ●  B O D T

[[nyte]]

J E A N KIRSTEIN

I'm too hungover to be embarrassed. Lazy grin tied to my cheeks and pink tint to them that I swear has nothing to do with how nice he looks right now. Morning suits him, hair mussed from hands that were most likely my own. Even now I cannot help but take a few strands between my fingertips and run my hand along his scalp. But I don't spend too much time thinking about why.

I strive to be second best. The sentence leaves an odd sort of hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know damn well I only made it through the night thanks to Marco- babysitter and mediator extraordinaire. It's not fair that Marco gets the short end of most of our adventures and a part of me wonders just how to make it up of him.

Some part of me knows exactly how I want to.

Instead of thinking about any of that, I rest my head upon his lap, yawning and enjoying just how at home I feel whenever he's near. And I won't let what Jaeger said get to me. We're friends- there's no such thing as being too close.

But it bothers me, no matter how often I insist he's wrong. "Marco, is our relationship weird?" Brows furrowed and teeth dug into the side of my cheek- I'm in too much pain to think of any of this but I do it all the same.