SNK kink meme de-anon, some bittersweet jeanmarco for you. My first SNK fic. Enjoy? First chapter is a prologue, therefore short. Chapter length will vary.
Jean saw Marco today.
Glinting in the reflection of a titan's eyes, half a foot from where he crested a rooftop to avoid snapping teeth and a clumsily swinging fist.
Too close.
Crushed tiles pelted Jean's back. He moved on instinct-the clash of his boots on another rooftop-the whir of 3DMG propelling him forward, gas exploding out the end as ropes shot him through a twisting maneuver. Gravity reversed itself, but Jean leaned slightly and righted himself to avoid crashing into a bell tower.
Metal clattered uselessly against stone and gravity slipped.
Hissing, Jean tilted and swung like a man from a vine, angling his feet to slam against the opposite building. He pushed off in a horizontal run and sprung into open space. Then, emerging from the alleyway, Jean shoved his boot into the back of a titan's neck, swords swinging in an arch. He sliced deep.
"-Jean, stop wasting your gas."
Jean gritted his teeth, catching a glimpse of Eren from the corner of his eye, followed by Mikasa. Green cloaks fluttered behind quick movements like solid wings behind them.
"Follow your own damn advice," Jean shot back.
"Hanji said to capture them alive anyway, you idiot," Eren shouted. They parted ways then looped back around a crop of half crumbled buildings. The shriek of a titan nearby shattered the wind-soaked silence.
"If anything, this is only training," Jean muttered. And what for. None of this seemed to advance their mission in any tangible way. Wall Maria and all of the corresponding land was still lost-and for all soldiers killed trekking into enemy territory they seemed no closer to reclaiming what rightfully belonged to humanity. If not for being ripped apart by titans, what good were their lives? How many more like Marco would be struck down in the prime of youth without a hint of recognition or dignity, lost in the tide of death-as insignificant as blades of grass burned in the wake of a wildfire? Just one more day. One more day was all it would have taken for both Marco and Jean to be safely within the confines of the innermost wall, safe from this nightmare where denial would cost them nothing.
If the Battle of Trost had just occurred one day later—
"Watch out." It was Mikasa, hair whipping into her face. She jerked backwards to avoid the explosion of tiles and rubble as a titan burst through the house in front of her. She twisted around, hitting the ground and taking off down an alley.
From the building beside, Jean angled after her and Eren. "Just have to lead this little fucker over to—"
The titan charged on four legs over the roof-
-A chunk of debris slammed into one of Jean's 3DMG lines and yanked him sideways so sharply that he tasted blood in the wake of sharp pain in his side. The ground—-no the side of a building—crashed into his body—or vice versa. His yelp was lost to the hollow ringing in his ears and the black that exploded in place of consciousness.
Through the murky depths Jean heard Eren scream as if through water. "JEAN!"
And then the transition of harsh panic to a gentle chiding laugh and the prickle of sunlight across his cheek. The bark of a tree was rough against his back. A gentle breeze lifted the scent of waving grass into the air.
"Jean, wake up. The Military Police isn't a ticket to slacking off, you know."
Jean opened his eyes to a face full of freckles.
"…Marco?"