A/N: So… this was originally supposed to be a short Jean/Armin drabble and then suddenly this happened. I don't even know…

"This is all that stupid Eren's fault," Jean growled as he unceremoniously dropped the large box of supplies onto the shed's floor – the sound of it dropping resonating throughout the large room and stirring up an unwanted cloud of dust from the creaky floor boards that had Jean coughing and swatting unsuccessfully at the particles.

He had been caught fighting with that idiot and now he was forced to clean out the supply shed as punishment and it was fucking hot outside and ten times hotter inside the vent less room and as Jean lifted the collar of his shirt to wipe the sweat collecting on his forehead, right beneath his hairline, he was 99% sure he would probably die of heat stroke before he finished cleaning out this god awful place.

To make matters worse, Eren hadn't even gotten in trouble because when Shadis walked in, Jean had had Eren by the collar of his shirt and well it was pretty damn obvious who had started it – the culprit's name starting with a "J" and ending with "ean". The brunet however, didn't see it that way. Yeah sure, he had grabbed Eren first and started yelling first but that little shit provoked him – always talking all high and mighty while pretty girls like Mikasa flocked around him and then he had smart boys like Armin who always had his back and "God dammit – this is totally unfair!" he kicked the box angrily, though it did nothing to lessen his anger and now that he was all riled up thinking about Eren, his blood was boiling and "fuck" it was just too hot for this.

With a grunt, he threw himself onto the floor, not caring that there was probably dirt and spiders and shit – and instead pressed his cheek to the wood flooring. He remembered Armin saying once that heat rises, so he had thought that maybe if he lied down it would be a bit cooler – but it wasn't and the floor was hard and scratchy and now he felt like a giant idiot, lying on the dirty ground and looking the very picture of miserable.

His muscles were sore from all the heavy lifting and he was sure he had pulled a muscle in his back, because stretched out like this kind of hurt, but again he knew that stretching it out was the easiest fix – no matter how painful – and he really wanted to get back at Eren because again, this was completely unfair.

He groaned again, before rolling onto his other side, his back to the shed door where a blindingly bright light filtered in – which was a pain because he had left the door open to air the place out and maybe offer him a cooling breeze but it really wasn't doing anything other than letting the scorching sun it. "Ugh," he groaned again, before rolling over once more and then proceeding to keep rolling until he was out of the sun and in the shade, inches away from being pressed up against a shelf. He sighed in relief when the shade offered a little bit of reprieve – not much, but it was better than being baked to a crisp. The shelf in front of him was made of metal and he briefly wondered if the leg of the stand would be cool since it was shaded and he debated about whether or not to press his forehead against it, "Better not," he decided because knowing his luck he'd burn himself on it or something and then when people asked him why he had a red mark on his forehead he'd have to explain and no – it wasn't worth it.

It was nearing noon – the hottest part of the day and Jean was a bit thankful that Keith was generous enough to let him take a lunch break – because he was seriously parched, he'd been up since dawn and set to work immediately and all he got for breakfast was some toast and water and he hadn't even gotten to eat it in the dining hall since breakfast wouldn't be served until seven. Jean groaned again, for the seemingly hundredth time and glared at the space beneath the shelf. He'd been staring at the dark shadow for nearly five minutes now and Jean wished he was small enough to stuff himself under there because it looked so dark and cool and he knew that the shade was cooler than the sun and he wondered if darker shade was even cooler – probably not, but still a man could hope. It was as he was glaring, completely focused on nothing but the darkness beneath the shelf that he noticed a large parcel shoved under the shelf, a small amount of dust collecting on it. Jean blinked – thinking maybe his eyes were seeing things but – squinting his eyes and allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness even more, he was pretty sure there was something there.

This shed was a mess – half empty boxes haphazardly stuffed in corners, contents disorganized, and no order whatsoever – it was not surprising someone had stuffed something under the shelf rather than putting it away properly and Jean was lazy enough to leave it there – wasn't like you could see it when standing – but his curiosity got the best of him and so he reached under the shelf and with a little effort was able to pull the package out.

It was a white box, made of flimsy material, and fairly light-weight. It was definitely different from all the other boxers in this heat trap of a shed, and now Jean's interest was even more piqued, so he pulled himself to a sitting position (his back groaned in protest), legs crossing in front of him – Indian style – as he pulled the box onto his lap.

He wondered what could possibly be inside – and whose was it before and why was it here and not known for having patience, Jean eagerly yanked the top of the box off the package and was immediately dumfounded when he was greeted by a mess of frills and lace.

"What the fuck?" he questioned aloud as he lifted the cotton material from the box – it was really soft and definitely high quality – and held it in front of himself at arm's length. This was – going by the frilly white skirt, puffy sleeves, and black laced vest over it all – without a doubt, a maid's dress. He blinked at it again, before letting his eyes drift back down to the box where sheer white thigh highs (the kind with frilly garters at the top and silky black ribbons woven through the garter piece and tied into a cute bow at the sides) rested innocently, accompanied by white bloomers (a bit disappointing because Jean had been hoping for a sexy pair of panties, but this could be cute too). The brunet found himself at a loss for words – why – why the fuck was this here?

The longer Jean stared at it, the more he found himself flushing in embarrassment as he pictured the different girls in the 104th squad wearing the dress. He had pictured Mikasa first, but the dress was so frilly and poofy and cute that the visual image ended up being particularly frightening and so he shook that thought away and instead imagined Christa in it. It was a pleasant image for a brief moment before a picture of an angry Ymir stomping in and kicking his ass had him frowning and well there went that visual as well.

This dress was an amazing discovery, but considering the type of girls here, they would either A not look good in such a thing or B kick his ass if he even brought up the idea of wearing a maid dress. "Such a waste," he thought as he carefully folded the dress back up and placed it back into the box. Shadis would be coming to fetch him for lunch soon, so with a depressed sigh, Jean slipped the box back under the shelf, wishing he'd been able to admire it some more.

It was pleasantly cooler in the mess hall, the wood building actually had windows and it wasn't stuffy and the whole place was shaded and Jean might have enjoyed it if he wasn't sitting across from Eren. It had been Shadis' idea – or more like order – that they sit together and get over their differences and Jean really didn't see that happening anytime soon because he was still pissed at the kid for getting him into trouble. As if that wasn't bad enough, Eren wasn't even saying anything – just eating his food and smiling cockily and damn that pissed him off, he hated seeing the shit head being so smug. He had a good idea why he looked that way too – because Jean's hair and clothes were damp with sweat and his cheeks had a perpetual flush from the heat he had had to endure for hours.

He had been just about to tell Jaeger to wipe that grin off his mouth when Armin walked over and plopped himself next to Jean without a care in the world and even though the blond didn't do anything wrong, that pissed him off too. Armin greeted Eren kindly before turning his attention to Jean, who glowered at him – making the petite boy frown.

Well damn, he hadn't meant to hurt the kid's feelings.

"I'll be right back," and then Armin was scurrying off and shit was his face really that scary? Damn he hadn't mean to chase him away – what a blow to the ego - scaring someone off with his face.

He heard Eren cackle, no doubt he was making a stupid face and he opened his mouth to yell at him when suddenly a white hand towel was shoved into his line of vision. He blinked in surprise, before looking up at Armin who was holding the towel out expectantly – his eyes urging him to take it.

"Uhm… what?"

Armin's lips twisted into a frown again before he was pushing the towel against Jean's face and oh. Oh. It was a wet towel and damn did it feel refreshing. Unconsciously, he nuzzled against the soft fabric (how come his towels weren't this soft?) before reaching his hands out to take the towel from Armin's own small hands and scrubbed the wet towel on his face; wiping sweat off in the process.

"You looked flushed," Armin explained as he made his way back to his seat – ignoring Eren's loud complaints about not having to help the bastard, "And it'd be bad if you got heat stroke."

Jean moved the towel away from his face, and smiled at Armin gratefully before wiping at the back of his neck and collar bone and pretty much any expanse of skin he could get to before offering a grumbled "thanks."

He had to admit, he felt a little better now, and his lunch might have been enjoyable but Eren was still sitting across from him and he couldn't be happy as long as he was anywhere near the bastard.

Not wanting to sit here anymore, not with Eren chattering away to Armin about stupid shit, Jean scarfed down the rest of his food before standing abruptly – his sudden movement causing the two other boys to peer up at him curiously.

"You're going back already?" Armin asked and Jean nodded before tossing the no longer cool damp towel at Armin, who flailed but managed to catch it.

As he walked away, Eren called, "Have fun cleaning the shed – see you at dinner". God he wanted to punch that kid.

If Jean had thought the room was hot before, it now felt like he had walked into a furnace and his skin that had just cooled down was instantly warm again and damn he was sweating already. Still annoyed with having to eat lunch with Eren – he had wanted to hang out with Connie and Marco and the other guys – he set to work organizing boxes; groaning as the ache in the middle of his back came back with a vengeance – this was all Eren's fault damn it.

This situation seriously sucked and damn he really wanted to wipe that smug ass grin off that boy's face – teach him not to make a fool of Jean fucking Kirschstein. The anger fueled his actions and so he set about aggressively stuffing things in the correct box and stacking them in neat, piles. He hated doing this, but he was too proud to do a half assed job – not to mention he didn't feel like getting head-butted by Shadis again – and so he worked diligently for the next couple hours.

At four o'clock, the brunet decided he had worked long enough and so he plopped onto the floor, his back against the shelf he had found the maid outfit under before – oh yeah, he'd almost forgotten about it. With a grin, he blindly reached under the shelf and pulled the box out and opened it so he could admire the cute dress once more. Damn, he really wanted to see a cute girl in this. Unconsciously he brought the garment closer to his face, and buried his nose in the soft fabric – it smelt musky and didn't smell like a cute girl at all but he nuzzled against it anyway because it was soft and cool and a guy could dream.

It was around this time, that Reiner and Bertolt came storming in – or rather Reiner did and Bertolt trailed behind him helplessly, "We came to help Jean. Figured you could use the hel-what the fuck is that?"

Jean yelped before pulling the dress away from his face and trying to stuff it back in the box unseen (and failing), face red with embarrassment because damn he probably looked like a serious creep and had wanted to keep the dress as his own private fantasy. Ah, but that made him sound like a pervert but he wasn't planning on doing anything strange with it. Though burying his face in it probably counted as strange – if the looks Reiner and Bertolt were giving him were anything to go by – damn.

"Hey guys – this is uhm, yeah I just found it here and" was all Jean had time to say before Reiner was snatching it up and he would've been pissed if it were anyone else, but Reiner was normally pretty cool and if Jean tried to hide the dress that'd only make him more suspicious.

"To think there was something like this lying around," Reiner mused allowed, turning slightly to wave the dress at Bertolt who had the decency to blush before mumbling about it being cute.

"Don't you think Annie would be cute in this Bertl?" Reiner teased and Jean watched as a sweat drop formed on Bertolt's temple and he gulped, "I do not."

The two continued to chat, though it was more of a one-sided conversation on Reiner's part and Jean couldn't help but laugh at their interactions because these two's thoughts went straight to where his did.

"I don't think you could convince any of the girls to wear this," Bertolt said and Jean looked to Reiner who seemed to be lost in thought before, "Maybe we could bribe them?"

Jean slowly got to his feet, suddenly intrigued with the actual going ons of the conversation – could they really bribe the girls? No, probably not. The only girl they could potentially bribe was Sasha and that was with food and no offense to the girl but she wasn't worth cutting down on his meal portions.

"We could make a bet then?" Bertolt offered and both Jean and Reiner nearly snapped their necks in the process of turning to look at him.

"I thought you weren't interested," Reiner started.

And Jean finished, "I guess he really does want to see Annie in a maid dress."

Bertolt only shook his head violently, "I just think it would be fun is all."

"Sure, I believe ya," Jean cooed, "But seriously you guys – what bet could we possibly make to get one of the girls to dress up?"

It was mildly alarming how quickly this had simply went from a fantasy to a full on production, but the three boys soon found themselves scheming amongst each other as to the best way to get this to actually happen. Jean was practically giddy with excitement – he hoped Christa would lose. She seemed the easiest target and never went back on her word and damn that'd be cute. It seems his day was looking up.

"Absolutely not," Mikasa answered the moment the three boys brought up the suggestion. They had gathered all the girls, Mikasa, Christa, Ymir (who invited her?), Annie, and Sasha at one table and made their pitch.

Connie, Marco, Armin, and Eren all sat at a table on the opposite side of the room – all of them casting glances at the pleading boys and the girls who kept shaking their head 'no' – they wondered what was happening.

"Mikasa is right guys; there is no way we could agree to this."

"Yeah – it's a lose/lose situation for us anyway," Ymir piped in, quickly agreeing with Christa who had just spoken – though she really wanted to see her cute blonde friend in an adorable dress too, but not where all these guys could see.

"It might be fun though," Sasha piped up, and she seemed to be the only girl that seemed intrigued. Annie wasn't even paying attention; she was just staring out the window, chin resting in hand.

"How about we make it fairer then – we will participate as well," Bertolt suggested and Jean nearly choked – why the hell would they do that? If they lost that meant putting on that maid dress – it would be humiliating. He looked to Reiner, who seemed to be debating on if this were a good idea or not before nodding his consent – Sasha whooped.

"Hey what the hell man?" Jean snapped at Reiner who only pulled him aside to whisper to him.

"Relax, we already decided that the contest would be one of strength – we can beat the girls no problem. As it is, Christa will definitely lose."

Well, there was no arguing that. The girls didn't know what the competition would be and so, a bit reluctantly, he agreed.

The girls looked at each other, seemingly holding a conversation with their eyes before Sasha spoke up again, "You said the loser has to wear the maid dress you found right?"

The three boys nodded and Sasha smiled, "But I don't want to see any of you in a dress."

The other girls instantly agreed. Wow, Jean wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not.

"I think Connie would look cute in a dress, oh and maybe Marco too" Sasha mused aloud, causing all the guys to recoil – Connie? Seriously? Though the dress would probably fit him really well – not like it would on Reiner, Bertolt, Jean, or Marco.

Mikasa's eyes widened as if an idea suddenly struck her and she immediately zeroed in on Eren across the room, "If Eren participates so will I." Ah, Jean should have expected that.

"I agree with Mikasa," Annie piped up, ignoring the glare Mikasa shot at her – well this was a surprise.

Ymir cackled at the imagery of one of those guys in a cute maid dress – it was hideous – she bet they'd die of embarrassment, "As long as the guys join – I'm in."

Christa giggled, sharing a look with Ymir – an unspoken conversation being held within their eyes before, "Well if Ymir is joining then I will too – but you'll have to get Armin to agree first."

Well crap, Jean couldn't see that happening. Armin never liked to play along with the rest of the guys – preferred to read and generally didn't like getting involved in their antics - said it was stupid. He wasn't sure how they'd get him to agree – he really wanted Christa to lose the bet though. Damn.

That was all the girls though. Connie and Marco would be easy to rope in. It was Eren and Armin who would be problematic. He could probably goad Eren into joining but he was seriously going to have trouble with Armin.

The three boys shared a look before trudging over to the other boys.

"Ha ha sounds like a ball!" Connie agreed instantly.

"I'd be honored to join," Marco did too.

"This is just some plot to fulfill you sick fantasies ain't it," was the first thing Eren said, "You're just trying to get at Mikasa."

Jean sneered, "It wasn't just my idea dumb ass – and we told you, it's a strength competition – there's no way Mikasa'd lose anyway."

"Please think about it," Bertolt cut in before Eren could yell something, and the teen frowned – he really wasn't interested in seeing one of the girls dressed up – all he cared about was killing titans. But… his eyes drifted to Armin who was mouthing for him not to agree – he really didn't care about the bet, it's not like the winner got anything special because the way it was set up, everyone but one person would be the winner. Where was the fun in that?

"I'll only agree if the person who gets the best score overall gets to have part of the loser's share of dinner."

"Who are you, Sasha?" Jean snapped – but then the image of Christa in a maid dress, spoon feeding him some of her dinner happened and heh – it would be like they were married. Reiner seemed to think so too.

"Alright," Reiner said, "We'll ask the girls," and as if he read Jean's thoughts, "But the loser has to hand feed the winner."

"I'll do it!" Connie practically yelled, before running over to the girls, blabbering all the way.

"Are you in?" Eren asked, turning to Armin who had been sitting quietly this whole time – he shook his head 'no' frantically.

"I refuse 100 percent," was his response and Eren shrugged, not seeming to care. Reiner and Jean felt like crying – because Christa. She said she wanted Armin to play.

"Come on Armin, don't be like that," Jean coaxed but the blond stubbornly shook his head 'no' once more.

"Convince him to join Eren," Jean suggested.

"No way – if Armin doesn't want to join he doesn't have to," was Eren's response – Armin smiled gratefully and Jean felt like gagging at the way Armin's eyes sparkled – he really liked Eren too much.

"Is there any particular reason Armin has to join?" Marco questioned tentatively, as he eyed the fierce glares Jean and Reiner were sporting.

"Christa wants Armin to join too,"

"Eh why?" Marco asked and Armin and Eren seemed to be curious too.

"Does it matter?" Jean snapped – seriously he wanted to just hurry up and get this started. They were so close to getting to see a cute girl in a maid dress – this was a once in a life time opportunity!

Marco frowned, he thought Christa was cute too (who didn't?), "Hey Armin?"

The blond looked up at Marco curiously – they were friends and Armin genuinely enjoyed talking to him – he was more intellectual than some of the other boys.

"Remember that book I told you about?" Marco asked and Armin nodded frantically – it was a history book – one he hadn't read before and he desperately wanted to, "If you join the game I'll let you have it."

A book? Seriously? Jean shook his head at Marco, he swore that kid could be a ditz some time, like Armin would change his mind over something silly like a boo—

"—I'm in."

Seriously?!

"So whoever cuts the smallest dent in the bark is the loser. Everyone got it?" Jean had just finished explaining the rules – it was virtually the same as their titan training minus of course the 3D maneuver gear and moving targets. It was, in the simplest of terms, a competition to see who could make the largest cut.

The girls would go first– Mikasa, Annie, Sasha, Christa, and Ymir; followed by the guys – Reiner, Bertolt, Jean, Marco, Eren, Connie, and Armin - in that order.

Both Reiner and Bertolt had, of course done excellent – from them it was to be expected. When Jean's turn rolled around he put his all forward – when they first started training with their gear he was not cutting as well as he hoped and now he was praying with all his might that he would outdo himself. Next were Marco, Eren, and Connie who did about average – their cuts nearly the same depth and finally Armin, who held his blades while shaking like a leaf. He couldn't do this – not only did he have very little physical strength, but they weren't even supposed to have these blades – they would get in so much trouble if they were to get caught.

"You can do it Armin," Eren coaxed the boy gently, who after nearly five minutes of coercing was able to get the blond to make his attempt – it was amateur at best.

Next were the girls and Mikasa made her cut effortlessly – looking particularly smug though they did not know the results yet. Annie, then Sasha went and both of their cuts were deep and clean. Christa's, though good, did not look up to par to the other girls and Ymir's looked really close to her blond companions. Jean mentally cheered as he eyeballed Christa's cut – she just might lose!

Now it came down to the moment of truth, where they would measure the width and depth of the cuts. It was decided that Marco – who was about as honest as honest came – and Sasha – who was a good sport, would both measure the cuts to ensure no one cheated.

The 104th squad watched on with baited breath as the two made their way to each tree, accurately and carefully measuring the cut.

Honestly, Jean was worried – not that he would lose or anything – but he found himself desperately aiming for first place. The whole, winner gets fed by the loser really caught his interest – never mind it was Eren's idea – and Christ he really wanted to win. He tried not to get his hopes up – after all he was going up against Mikasa and Reiner and Bertolt and he hated to admit it but he wasn't as good as them. That didn't stop him from trying his hardest though and he was actually pretty damn proud of his cut – even if he didn't win – it would be a personal achievement for himself.

Finally, Marco and Sasha shared their answers (all of which were the same) and they both stood before the group – Sasha looking especially excited and Marco looking a bit worried.

Reiner and Jean shared a look, 'oh shit'.

Marco cleared his throat, the barest hints of a grin on his lips, "I'd like to congratulate the winner – they won by not even an inch – it was definitely a close call."

Jean wanted to scream – get on with it already – who won?

"As for the loser," Sasha began – a stupid grin dancing across her lips, "Well… They lost by a land slide."

The whole group cringed – damn did that suck for the loser.

Marco smiled, "I will now announce the winner." Finally.

"The winner is… Jean Kirschstein!"

Jean froze. "I… won? Hell yeah I fucking won!" he cheered – it was like a dream come true. Not only did he freaking win, but he'd also passed his own personal goal and shit he was walking on sunshine. Not even Eren's groaning could bring down his mood – in fact it just fueled his excitement.

The guys all congratulated him, while most of the girls looked like they didn't care either way – though he was pretty sure Mikasa's eyebrow was twitching in annoyance. Ah crap, he hoped she didn't try to rough him up the next time sparring came around.

"Alright!" Sasha cheered, waving her arms about in excitement, "It is my pleasure to announce the loser!"

All of the guys exchanged a look – her enthusiasm was a bit frightening. Had… had one of them lost?

"Aaaaaand the loser is Armin Arlert!"

Jean froze. He slowly turned to look over at Armin whose face was almost as white as the hand towel he had earlier – the blond had one of his hands resting on Eren's shoulder – the taller boy holding him up because Armin looked like he was going to drop dead any moment.

The girls – mainly Sasha and Christa – all erupted into cheers and as Jean continued to stare at the shaking blond he felt particularly bad for him. Even worse, he found he didn't mind too much that Armin would be dressing up for him. Well damn.

The next morning at breakfast, Jean found himself sitting at a table with Bertolt, Reiner, and Eren – all of which were exchanging uncomfortable glances with each other. The dining hall was not too far from the barracks and they could hear Armin screaming 'no' over the cacophony of female giggles and guffaws. They felt sorry for the kid – they all had, after all, pretty much conned him into joining.

"I'm… actually kind of excited to see him," Reiner finally stated and all of the boys turned to look at him in shock – hadn't been expecting that.

Bertolt frowned, "… Armin is pretty feminine – he might look nice." Hadn't really been expecting that either.

Jean had to agree though – from what he had seen of the blond in the showers, he was pretty petite and slim – not that he had intentionally been looking or anything.

"When we were younger," Eren started (for once not arguing with Jean, though he had told the other boy that he better not get any weird ideas about Armin and was going to sit here and chaperone), "Armin would come over to my house and my mother would dress him up."

Jean cackled, "What? No way!"

Eren only shook his head, "Mikasa wouldn't let her put cute clothes on her – so she used Armin as a substitute."

Bertolt and Reiner shared a look, Eren's mom sounded evil.

"So he looked good then?" Bertolt asked and Eren hesitated, flushing a bit before nodding.

Reiner sat up straighter, "I can't wait."

Armin could distinctly remember saying this was a bad idea. It was stupid, childish, perverted, and he had wanted absolutely no part of it. He knew this would happen. He knew it. And now – despite his best efforts to not get involved (damn Marco for baiting him) – he was standing outside the dining hall wearing a maid dress!

The dress, surprisingly, was nearly a perfect fit – though it was a bit on the shorter side and revealed more of Armin's legs than he could ever be comfortable with. He was grateful, in a small way, that he was given bloomers to wear because they helped cover his ass because this short ruffley skirt really wasn't cutting it and if he so much as even bent over, the back flared up. The top half of the dress was really form fitting – a bit too tight if you asked Armin - he swore his internal organs were being crushed. The dress was pretty low cut and clearly wasn't meant for a well-endowed girl because the breast area was small and with the ruffle at the top, the slight bunching of the fabric where it was loose on him was hardly noticeable. The sleeves were more white ruffles, that covered his forearms and left his shoulders bare – and Armin didn't see the purpose of it – it wasn't like it was holding the dress up or anything. He had on the sheer leggings, which clung to his legs in the heat of the summer and the garter part felt too tight on his thighs and thank god he didn't have hairy legs (what little hair he did have was a very light blond, reminiscent of peach fuzz) otherwise he'd probably look ten million times more horrible.

The girls kept teasing him too. Christa kept cooing that he was cute and Ymir had smacked his ass and Sasha said she wanted to "eat" him up and Annie kept whistling at him and even Mikasa who was supposed to be on his side had told him "you've grown cuter." What guy wanted to hear that? He's gotten cute? A man shouldn't be cute at all – this was an insult!

And he definitely, definitely did not want to enter the dining hall – the guys would see him and tease him too! They'd probably laugh and make jokes and Armin really didn't want to hear it. Recently he had grown comfortable with his body and learned to accept his physical limits and the last thing he wanted was for all of these guys to see him so exposed and scrawny and Armin's eyes stung from where he was trying not to cry, eyes brimming with tears and face flushed. This was the worst.

"It'll be okay Armin," Mikasa stated, offering the trembling boy a small smile, "If any of them tease you – I'll kick their asses."

Armin smiled some – Mikasa was so kind to him, "Show them no mercy?"

Mikasa nodded, "No mercy," and for emphasis she punched the palm of her hand.

"Alright it is time to get this show on the road!" Sasha cried, before she was pushing Armin forward by the shoulders and shoving him into the dining hall.

"Not so rough!" the moment the soft scolding voice of Armin was heard, all sounds in the room silenced and the members already gathered in the room all swiveled their heads to look at Armin.

'Oh god,' Jean thought, as the small boy stumbled forward, nose red and eyes glistening – Jesus Christ had he been crying? Fuck, Armin was already cute enough (you didn't hear it from him though) but with the added addition of a teary face and all dressed up – it was too much. Jean stiffened in his seat as Armin approached, lips trembling as he bit down a smile because seriously it was taking all of his will power to not let his jaw drop to the floor.

The other boys weren't faring much better – all wide eyed and genuinely shocked(with the exception of Eren who had seen a similar sight before) because was that really Armin? – Damn he was too cute but Jean wasn't paying attention to them, but rather the way the dress swished around Armin's thighs as he walked, and the way the already too short skirt hitched up a bit with every step and a tiny sliver of cream colored thighs could be seen.

"You're droolin' Jean," Eren taunted and Jean scowled before hissing at him to shut up.

Absently, he wiped his chin with his sleeve and – oh shit – he really was drooling. Damn if that wasn't embarrassing.

Once Armin was close enough, Jean raised a hand in greeting, "Hey there Armin," only for the scantily clad blond to walk right past him.

The tall teen sputtered, momentarily shocked, before he was whipping around in his seat and yelling, "Hey don't just ignore me like that!"

Armin merely frowned, "I'm just getting my food."

Oh.

Okay.

He knew that, yeah, sure.

Armin returned moments later, still red in the face but he had looked like he had calmed down some and no longer looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment – which was a shame, cause he had looked really cute teary-eyed – not that Jean would admit it.

Breakfast was some kind of porridge thing or maybe gruel – Jean couldn't be sure (cream of wheat maybe?) – And with limited rations they got what was served to them.

It wasn't too bad in Jean's opinion, but it could use some more sugar – not that that was going to happen. Armin took his seat next to Jean (Eren, Reiner, and Bertolt were all packed together on the opposite bench) and then placed his breakfast bowl next to Jean's before sighing slightly and then presuming to just sit there.

And Jean sat and stared, and waited, and waited, and waited before…

"Aren't you going to feed me?"

"What?" Armin asked - eyes wide, "You guys were serious about that?"

Jean nodded slowly and Armin frowned, glaring at his hands for a moment, before he was quickly picking up the spoon and scooping up some of the porridge and that was as much forewarning Jean got before Armin was shoving the food into his face.

Jean felt like pouting – Armin wasn't being cute at all. This wasn't like his fantasies at all. Not that Armin had been in his original fantasy or anything.

"Uh… Shouldn't you blow on it first or something?" Jean asked hopefully and Armin looked surprised for a moment before—

"Oh! Right, sorry," and then he was bringing the spoon to his lips – which were a pale shade of pink and pursed (not that Jean was looking or anything) – before blowing on it softly.

"Here," he offered the spoon to Jean once more, this time not so hurriedly and Jean smirked before opening his mouth so Armin could slip the spoon inside. He closed his mouth, wrapping his lips around the utensil before sending a wink Armin's way – who was now flushing to his ears.

"Don't do that!" Armin scolded before wrenching the spoon from Jean's lips – ow, that had hurt.

Eren laughed, saying something along the lines of "that's what you get for teasing Armin" and Jean glared – why did this kid have to sit by him again?

"Sorry," the blond apologized, though he didn't look too sorry, before he was scooping up more food – a determined expression on his face, "But let's hurry and get this done okay?"

And so Jean relented and Armin resumed feeding him.

It was definitely the opposite of what he pictured – a cute girl who fed him gently and bashfully and said things like "Is it good Jean?"

Instead he had Armin – a boy – who wasn't timid or flirty at all but rather embarrassed and annoyed, but there was something endearing about the way Armin was trying to remain calm and finish the "punishment" as time efficiently as possible. It wasn't sexy at all, but it was cute and the brunet found he actually didn't mind it too much – in some twisted way, this might have even been a little better.

"You should eat some too," Jean suggested as Armin moved onto Jean's small serving of breakfast, having finished feeding Jean his own portion.

Armin paused mid-blow, spoon raised to his lips, and looked up at him in confusion, "But the point was for you to get double the food."

By now, the other boys at the table had grown bored of the monotonous sight of watching Armin spoon feed Jean, and had moved onto eating their own food whilst having their own conversation amongst themselves.

"Well breakfast is like the most important meal of the day or something – so it wouldn't be right if you had to go hungry,"

"But the bet said-"

"—Just, just eat half then or something!" Jean quipped. Seriously, why did Armin have to argue – he could share if he wanted to.

The blond maid hesitated before smiling gratefully and taking a bite of the food he had been blowing on for Jean. The brunet watched the spoon disappear between thin lips, before Armin was sliding it back out – food free. 'God that was hot,' Jean thought, before shaking his head because seriously what? Had he really just thought Armin eating was hot? Christ what was wrong with him? Must be the dress or something, and definitely not because Armin had always been cute and he just hadn't noticed before.

Armin scooped more food up, blew on it, and then offered it to Jean who took it gratefully and a bit too eagerly before Armin was getting his own bite and Jean sighed to himself a bit dreamily because this was an indirect kiss and the closest he had ever gotten to kissing another person – even if the other person was a cross-dressing Armin.

Breakfast ended quickly and with it, Armin left to change out of the dress – which was promptly returned to Jean, who took the dress sadly. The whole dress charade had ended fairly un-eventfully – no one had really over reacted or cracked jokes (Connie did cat call though) like he had expected his fellow trainees to do. Hell, he had thought he himself would have teased the hell out of Armin, but it ended up being a fairly pleasant experience (and the other guys were either more mature than Jean gave them credit for, or too stunned by how good Armin looked because it had seemed like they had all lost interest fairly quickly – but again, Jean hadn't really been paying attention to anyone but Armin).

Box in hand, Jean forlornly made his way to the storage shed where he would return the dress back to its hidden place under the shelves – a part of him wanted to keep it – stowed away under his mattress where he could run his fingers over the soft cotton fabric and day dream about it, but he knew that would be strange and so it had to be put back.

Which is why Jean was currently sitting in the storage shed once more (this time with the door only cracked even thought it was hot as hell inside the room), leaning against the back shelf and holding the dress up to look at it. It actually smelt pretty nice – no longer like musk and moth balls – but rather soap and something else, Armin's natural scent he presumed. He wondered if Armin had washed it – given how clean Armin tended to be, Jean supposed it was only natural that the boy had. But – Jean pressed the bunched dress to his face, sniffing it – damn it smelt really nice. He wondered how long the scent would stay, and as Jean rubbed it against his face (never mind the last time he did something like this people had walked in on him) he hoped it would last forever. Something he knew was virtually impossible but a man could dream. Seriously, this dress smelt really, really nice. Did Armin always smell like this? It had this flowery scent – faint – but still there and the brunet guessed he would have to inconspicuously smell Armin the next time he saw him. Was it cologne or something? It was kind of addictive – how nice it smelt that is.

It was around this time, that he was rubbing the dress to his face and taking deep breaths of the scent, that a wicked thought crossed his mind.

'No,' Jean thought, 'That would be just creepy.'

He had thought it would be creepy yes, but seconds later, Jean was setting the dress down on his lap and picking up a stocking – he could see the way the fabric had molded some to the shape of Armin's legs and he could make out small indentions where Armin's foot and ankle and calves had stretched the fabric from its previously unused condition. He didn't have a foot fetish per se, but there was something about holding the stocking and knowing someone had worn this – knowing that the fabric had clung to Armin's slender legs – that made Jean feel uncomfortably warm. And not because of how hot the room was. No, this warmth coiled in the pit of his stomach – he rubbed the sheer fabric between his fingertips, simultaneously picking up the dress with his other hand and bringing it towards his face and sniffing it again – before the heat was pooling to the organ between his legs.

If he thought about – which he wouldn't, not right now anyway – what he was doing could possibly be considered morally wrong but… With the dress and the stocking and the pretty scent and the imagery of how cute Armin had looked dressed in these exact clothes earlier, it was no wonder he found this all so exciting.

Jean was torn between the thought of how pleasurable it was just to touch this dress and the thought of how embarrassing and weird this was, when the brunet's eyes fell on the bloomers that rested innocently inside the box.

"Oh god," Jean breathed, flushing at the thought that had just raced across the front of his mind, before he was reaching for the white fabric with shaky hands.

These… these had touched Armin's private places and as Jean held them in front of his face, he was aware that this should be disturbing, and yet it was shockingly arousing.

He could picture Armin perfectly, standing in front of him wearing the dress – face red and nose scrunched up cutely as he slowly peeled off the clothing.

'Start with the leggings,' Jean would say and Armin would nod before sliding his hands down his chest and slipping his thumb between the fabric and his thigh, middle finger grasping the outside. Jean would tell him to turn around, and Armin would hesitate, before following orders like a good little solider and then he would slowly, one by one, slip the thigh highs off – bending over and flashing his cute little bloomers for Jean to see.

Once that was done, Armin would glance over his shoulder at Jean, eyes saying 'what next' and Jean would motion for him to come forward and the blond would do so eagerly until he was standing right in front of Jean, who would reach around to grip Armin's ass, squeezing the soft flesh there, before slipping his hands up the dress and grabbing the waistband of the bloomers and slowly pulling them down – hands caressing milk colored thighs the whole way down.

And Armin would be hard too – liking this just as much as Jean was – his cock standing at attention, raised cock lifting the bottom of the dress some and he would be shy and want to cover his exposed erection but Jean would just grab both his hands – interlocking their fingers – before guiding Armin to sit down. Who would slowly drop to his knees, before leaning back and re-adjusting his legs so he could sit with his bare ass to the floor and legs spread and inviting.

They would kiss – because Armin had been pouting this whole time – practically begging for it and when they did the blond would keen and mewl and their tongues would twist together in Armin's mouth – dancing sensually and erotically. And once he had kissed the blond senseless, Armin would pant breathlessly, "Take me Jean," but Jean wouldn't be ready for the fun to be over, so he'd let go of Armin's hands and sit back and say "Prepare yourself," and the blond would do just that.

Jean would watch as a teary-eyed, red-faced Armin would slip three of his fingers into his mouth, sucking on the appendages and soaking them with as much saliva as he could before he would slip them between his legs – tempted to wrap his hand around his cock, though Jean would stop him – before slipping a finger inside.

And Jean would palm his erection as the blond fingered himself – squirming and moaning and begging for Jean to hurry and take him, and that would be all the invitation Jean needed.

And it would be amazing. Armin would be so hot and tight around him and he would beg for more and Jean would give it to him – faster, faster, faster – until they were both crying out and at their limit and Armin would be gasping his name and—

"Armin, Armin, Armin," Jean rasped, head thrown back against the shelf, as he worked his erection with his hand – grip tight, as tight as he imagined Armin would be – before he was cumming with a silent scream of the blond's name.

Jean stayed that way - panting against the shelves, hand down his pants, and dress pressed against his chest – before he was snapping out of his blissful daze.

"Fuck," he croaked as he slipped his hand out of his jeans – the evidence of what he had just done sticky and warm all over his hand.

"Fuck," because you couldn't say it too much – not when you just jerked off to the thought of your male friend in a dress. And as if that wasn't bad enough, one of the double doors to the shed started opening and there was literally no time for him to hide what he was doing when in walked Armin fucking Arlert of all god damn people.

The blond froze in the doorway, eyes zeroing in on Jean's flushed face, cum on his hand, the dress pressed to his body – and well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

"Uh… Hi?"

Waving would help ease the tension right? Oh, well – Jean sheepishly lowered his hand and wiped his cum on the side of his pants – waving with that hand probably just made things worse.

"You-you-" Armin was pretty red in the face and Jean probably would have cracked a joke about the blond's stuttering, but this was hardly a laughing matter. The boy looked torn between wanting to bolt and maybe kicking Jean in the balls – was that what the shaking fists meant? Jean wasn't sure, but Armin was rapidly approaching - the door slamming shut behind him making Jean cringe – before he was reaching for the dress and wrenching the dress away from Jean.

"Confiscated!" he yelled, before grabbing the tights as well, "Confiscated!" and the bloomers, "Definitely confiscated!"

"Armin wait, it's not what you think!" Jean protested, reaching for the maid outfit – and failing.

"So you weren't just masturbating to thoughts of me wearing this?!" he demanded – he was trying to stay serious, but his voice had raised an octave and he was as red as Jean.

"I was, but-" which probably wasn't the right thing to say, because Armin screamed again, and smacked Jean in the face with the dress – who sputtered in indignation, "But I couldn't help it! You looked really cute in it!"

Armin froze, opening his mouth like he was going to yell again, before snapping it shut with a click of his teeth. His entire face was red and Jean couldn't tell if it was from the heat of the shed, anger, or embarrassment – either way it was really nice seeing Armin like this, even without a dress.

The two stared at each other a moment longer – Armin standing with the confiscated clothes clutched to his chest, and Jean sitting on his knees, sweat trickling down his forehead – before Armin was throwing the dress and other garments at his face in embarrassment before stomping towards the door.

"Wait!" Jean practically screeched, lunging for the smaller boy who side-stepped the tackle, "I'm not some sick pervert – I don't normally do things like this!"

"I never said you were," was Armin's reply and Jean sighed in relief – he had been worried there for a minute.

"So… We good then? You're not mad or anything?" Jean asked and Armin shook his head slowly.

"I'm… flattered I guess you could say," Armin mumbled, looking anywhere but at Jean, "But that doesn't mean you should do things like this!"

Jean chuckled nervously, "Right, yeah – you're right. I won't do it again. Yeah."

Armin made a move to leave again, before hesitating, "Uhm Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"What part… what part exactly of me did you think was cute?" the blond questioned, seemingly genuinely curious.

Jean flushed and scratched the bridge of his nose, "Uhm… I don't know. Your hair? Your shoulders looked nice too and your legs are kinda toned…" Jean trailed off – looking up at Armin who was still a bit pink in the face but also looked to be deep in thought.

"So… does that mean you still think I am cute now?" he questioned hesitantly, one hand absently toying with the ends of his hair. Jean gulped, "Ye-yeah…"

The blond looked shocked, before smiling ever so slightly, "Alright," was all he said before he was pushing the door open – a welcome rush of cool air drifting in – and walking out.

"Wait Armin! Why did you come here in the first place?!"

The blond paused, "I was going to thank you for not teasing me earlier – I thought it was really weird that you didn't," he smiled coyly, "But I see now why you hadn't."

"O-Oh… Okay?"

"When I first walked in on you I thought maybe you had a fetish for maid dresses or that maybe you were a pervert," Jean blanched, "But I never would have expected you had a crush on me."

Jean sputtered, "Wh-what?! No I don't!" Which might have been true a week ago, but now that he had seen firsthand how cute Armin could be – dressed as a girl OR a boy – he wasn't so sure anymore. He had always liked Armin's personality – he was smart and kind – and that combined with his recently developed sexual attraction for the boy was… well…

The blond only laughed, "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," before he was walking away, leaving a confused Jean behind.

"I don't have a crush on you!" and then, "Armin wait! What's an Egypt?!"