A Note From the Author: A just-for-fun one-shot, separate from the alternate timeline I'm slowly creating with my OC Mercedes and The Jaguar's storyline. Though it's not vital to have read The Jaguar before reading this, it sure helps a lot. Although I'm uncertain whether the AoT universe goes by the Gregorian/Western calendar, if it does, this could also be considered a (belated) New Year's special! Enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!

All That Glitters

"You know her birthday's coming up, right?"

Jean looked up at Armin, quiet for a second. He blinked, then went back to sweeping. "Yeah, of course I knew that." He pushed the detritus out of the kitchen doorway into the yard with a decisive flick. "Since when have you been her best friend all of a sudden?"

"You don't have to be someone's best friend to know their birthday, Jean," Armin chided as he put away the dishes he'd finished drying. "We talk here and there when we're back from recon. Part of the Commanders' preparations, I guess. It'd be suspicious if she met with Hanji, so they asked me to meet with her and pass on anything we've learned since she's been gone."

"What's all that even for, anyway?" Jean muttered. He came back inside the kitchen and frowned at a spot he'd missed under the table.

"I'm not certain, but in light of what happened with Annie and the suspicion that there are others, it could be anything. Not only does Mercedes serve as a back-up of Hanji-san's knowledge, but should the Commander need a contact on the inside, she's it."

"So a spy."

"I wouldn't call it that. Anyway." Armin stacked the plates in two piles on the shelves above the draining board, and moved back to the double sink to begin drying the bowls. After a pause, he said, "It's on the first. So we'll be back in time," he added with a smile.

Jean glanced up very briefly. "What is?" He continued craning the broom under the table to get the leaves and dried mud gathered there. Captain Levi would be sure to spot it.

"Mercedes' birthday," Armin said.

"Oh."

"Are you going to get her anything?"

"I…don't…know? Is that a thing?" Jean felt his face pinch into a quizzical expression. It hadn't occurred to him that that was a thing he should do. Why do it? Sure, they were on friend terms now at least, but did that warrant buying her something? Was he supposed to actually buy something, come to think of it? Or just give her something? Who had the time for that and where exactly would he get a gift from, if so? They were out in the fucking wilderness. It wasn't like he could go to the market and spend an afternoon shopping.

She would probably look at him like he was stupid, like she did sometimes. Or laugh. It probably wouldn't even be something she'd want. Or would it?

"Do you…think I should…?" he asked next. Listen to yourself. You're pathetic! Thinking about buying a girl a present! You've got better things to do. Like sweep this dirt.

Armin turned around to face him and continued drying the bowl in his hands. "It might be a nice gesture."

"But, why? Is anyone else getting her a present? Are we throwing her a party or something?" Jean began shepherding the rogue dirt to the back door.

"Jean you like her, don't you?" Armin paused his drying and his face took on a look of concern, as if he was reminding Jean of something obvious.

He felt his body betray him with a blush, and deliberately faced away from Armin. "Well, yes."

"Then this is a good way to show her you care. You generally give gifts to those you care for. Love-tokens and such."

"Love-what? No. We've been over this. I'm not in love. That – that doesn't exist," Jean chuckled nervously. The dirt was furiously swatted out the door.

"Fine, then. But she's special to you, so you should give her something for her birthday. You've got three days – plenty of time."

The next day saw Jean coming around to the idea of getting Mercedes a gift of some kind. Once he was at that point, however, the problem then became the topic of what to get her. Unfortunately, it seemed to have become everyone else's problem, too. He didn't know who Armin had told, but somehow word of this gift-giving dilemma had spread throughout almost the entire Scouting Legion and everyone seemed ready to offer suggestions.

It'd started irritatingly enough with Eren teasing him over lunch. That stupid face of his had leaned over the table, close enough to be punched, and said, "So horseface, I hear you're getting somebody a present. You should probably steer away from giving her your carrots."

"Shut the fuck up, Eren!" Jean retorted, and turned to Armin who was just joining them, "Armin, did you really tell him –"

"It's not a big deal, Jean! Calm down!" Armin said nervously.

"Maybe you should get her something practical, like something warm, since this winter's getting very cold," Mikasa chimed in next to Eren. "A nice pair of gloves, for example."

"Yeah, Jean," Armin agreed.

"Wait, Jean's getting someone a present?" Sasha's head swung into view from behind him, making Jean jump.

"Yeah, Mer-ced-es," Eren clarified in a sing-song voice.

"Oh god, all of you shut up!" Jean covered his head and face with his hands, hunkering down to the table and hoping he wasn't turning red. "I never said –"

"Who's getting Mercedes a present?" Connie showed up next.

"Jean is, obviously," Sasha said.

"Oooh, you should get her some flowers!" Connie suggested, sitting down next to him.

Sasha smashed into Connie's back, nearly pushing his face into his bowl of stew. "Dude, no. Flowers die – what kind of message does that send? And it's winter, for crying out loud. A cake! Clearly you should get her a cake. And share."

"Sasha where is he going to get a cake from, seriously."

"Ugh, stop, all of you," Jean groaned. He tilted down even lower until the lower half of his face was obscured by his arms folded on the table. He was surrounded.

"Aww, we're just trying to help, horseface," Eren mock-cooed. He flicked a piece of bread crust at Jean's head. "No need to get embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed! There's nothing to be embarrassed about!" Jean burst.

"Why is Jean embarrassed?" Squad Leader Hanji paused as she passed by on the other side of the table with two bowls in hand.

"Because he –"

Jean shot to his feet. "I'm not embarrassed. Let's stop talking about it." He stepped over and away from the bench, taking his bowl with him as he left their company.

"Because Mercedes' birthday's coming up and he sucks at picking presents," he heard someone say.

"Shut up!"

After the meal, as they were preparing the bunk rooms for their absence and packing up their things, Jean, Bertholt and Reiner were calmly and quietly making the beds according to Captain Levi's orders. It was a welcome pocket of peace after the chaos of lunchtime. As he and Reiner flipped a mattress, the stouter blond suddenly looked at him and said, "You should get Mercedes a falcon."

"Oh god, not you too." Jean whined.

Bertholt laughed as he swapped out old pillowcases for fresh ones. "Where's he going to get a falcon, Reiner? A puppy's way more feasible. Get her a puppy, Jean."

"She doesn't strike me as the puppy type," Reiner said. "Falcon's a much better way to go."

"Shut up!" Jean stormed from the room.

They were saddling up to leave to return to the Wall when Ymir and Krista, already on horseback, passed by him. Krista leaned over, and quietly but excitedly said, "She reads a lot, I'm sure – how about a book? Or a nice bookmark?"

Jean gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, praying for patience.

Ymir laughed. "Though she also likes killing things, so maybe she'd prefer a new rifle."

"Stop it!" Jean threw himself up onto his horse and turned it, trotting away from the younger group to join the more senior members toward the front of the convoy. It wasn't quite protocol, but at this point he didn't care. He sighed and stewed in frustration, trying to block out the laughter of his friends behind him.

His horse fell into stride between the Commander and Hanji's as they took a slower pace until they were out on the road. They walked in silence until suddenly Hanji shouted, "Sparkly! Get her something sparkly! Always a winner."

"Hanji-san," Jean moaned, hanging his head.

He was surprised to hear Commander Erwin chiming in, "Or perhaps you should think of something less material, and try to give her an experience rather than a thing. It would likely be more memorable and appreciated."

"Is there anyone in this convoy that is not in on this? Any more suggestions?" Jean lifted his arms and shouted around him. He stopped his horse as the convoy, filing out onto the road, began to get into traveling formation.

"How about a steak?" someone called.

Jean looked in their direction. "Really?"

"The solution to your dilemma is simple."

Jean turned at Levi's voice, half-ready to punch it before he recognized it. Luckily he stayed his hand and bit his tongue. Levi had also paused his horse, though it marched anxiously on the spot and snorted steam into the air. "Is it?" Jean managed.

Levi wasn't looking at him as he answered, "Very. Give her something that has meaning. Her favorite food, go stargaze, a fucking tiara or a pinecone, doesn't matter. I trust you can figure that much out. Now let's stop this stupid shit and be on our way." He turned his horse and trotted away to rejoin the senior members.

Considering his words – which oddly enough made sense, even though he never would have thought of the Captain as the gift-giving type – Jean got back to his assigned spot in the formation.

"Something that has meaning," he repeated to himself.

The problem then became a matter of when. Like usual, they'd been spared two or three days upon their arrival to visit family and so on, and Jean only had a day to secure Mercedes' gift. It had taken some persuasion and he'd suffered some weird looks, but he'd managed it. Now he rushed as fast as he could to Wall Sina. Everything had to be complete before this evening, when he found her on her patrol.

Mercedes had turned the room that she shared with three other comrades upside-down, and was considering prying up the floorboards and tearing down the walls.

The door opened with difficulty, having been partially-blocked by mattresses and furniture. "Whoa! What the hell?" Her roommate Baena squeezed inside. "Have you gone crazy?"

"I can't find it," Mercedes said, her voice cracking. "I've never lost it. I don't understand."

"Can't find what?" The tall blonde asked, picking her way into the room by veering around a propped-up mattress.

"My bangle. I've looked everywhere." Despite her best efforts, hot tears were gathering in her eyes. "I've retraced my steps ten times over. It's gone."

"Your gold one? I'm so sorry, 'Cee. Did someone steal it, maybe?" She began to half-heartedly search with her though it was obvious there was nowhere left to look.

"But I hardly ever take it off – they'd have to steal it right off my wrist!" Mercedes let out a great puff of air that disturbed her hair. She stood and covered her mouth with both hands, blinking rapidly. "It was my grandmother's. It's a family heirloom. I can't believe I lost it."

"Hey," Baena made it beside her and put her hand on her shoulder comfortingly, "It could still turn up. Just calm down. Where did you last see it?"

Mercedes took a moment to think. "I took it off last night when I went to bed, and put it on my nightstand; it was still there when I woke up. After I showered earlier I went to put it on like I usually do after I get dressed, and it wasn't anywhere to be found. How could it just disappear like that in fifteen minutes?" The tears threatened to return.

"Like I said it could still turn up, let's try not to worry about it. It's your birthday after all!" Baena tried to be cheery.

"What a great start," Mercedes mumbled.

"Come on, let's take your mind off it," Baena navigated them out of the wreckage.

Jean felt more than a little pain at handing over the amount of money he was handing over, but kept telling himself that it was worth it. He accepted the little drawstring bag and thanked the merchant, pocketing it as he left. Outside, the clock tower indicated that it was nearing six o'clock – he'd been in the Interior far longer than he thought he'd be – Mercedes' patrol would begin in half an hour on the Wall above Trost to monitor repairs to the gate.

I hope this works, Jean thought as he got back on his horse. Wait – hope it works? What works? You're just getting her a birthday present. There's no motive.

He made the ride straight down to Trost like an arrow shot from a bow. If he was honest, he felt quite proud of himself, like he was on a secret mission of great urgency. He felt important and powerful by the way traffic flowed apart for him and the angry way his breath and that of his horse escaped as steam into the cold winter air. The streetlamps, lit for the night, were a blur as he passed them.

Before he knew it he was at the base of the Wall and taking the elevator up. The long, slow, and freezing ride up the face of the Wall leeched away his confidence piece by piece until he found himself getting nervous. What if she didn't like it? What if all his efforts were for no reason? Why did he feel the need to do this anyway?

The elevator squealed to a stop and he took a deep breath, trying to puff out his chest as he walked out onto the top of the Wall. The gate encasement was about twelve yards to his left, and around the fires that peppered the ramparts he could just about pick out a pair of figures. One of them had to be Mercedes, but who was the other?

It's her birthday – what if she has a date? he suddenly thought and his steps halted. His brain argued back and forth with itself: A date while on duty? Come on. But it's possible. Why wouldn't she have a date? She's wonderful. Listen to yourself! What does it matter if she has a date? You're just friends, right? As far as she knows, anyway, so don't be pathetic. He forced himself to keep following the rail tracks in her direction. The icy wind forced him to pull his longer thigh-length trench tighter around him.

As he grew closer, he saw that one of the figures was taller than she was. No matter how much he tried to clamp down on them, he couldn't stop images of a Bertholt or Reiner copycat fawning all over her from springing to mind – all six-foot-something, built like an ox and too many teeth, wit and charm for days. This was going to be awkward.

Jean was surprised and relieved to see that rather than a guy, it was Mercedes' roommate, Baena, who was with her. Considering the tall blonde was the one to make all of this possible, Jean felt his confidence return twofold – maybe this would work out. He watched her nudge Mercedes and wave before moving swiftly away. Mercedes herself, he noticed, was smiling at him as she walked his way.

"I didn't realize you were back!" she called over the howl of the wind in the dark.

"We got back early this morning," he said. He froze when she embraced him this time, and he felt his cheeks grow warm. The familiar plum smell to her hair tickled his nose, no matter how hard the wind tried to blow it away. "Happy Birthday," he said when she stepped away. They remained close for warmth, and even she had on a thick winter coat.

"Thanks," she replied, but even for her he could tell she wasn't too excited about the idea. Her eyes even looked red.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Mercedes frowned and turned to look over the city, his hometown; the faint light it gave off at this height illuminated her face in a way that threatened to make his heart do its stupid little happy dance. "I lost my bangle," she said. "Julia's gonna be so pissed with me."

Jean suppressed a smile. "Lost it? You, lose something?"

"Don't rub it in, okay?" she snapped at him. "It's already been a shitty birthday and I don't need you making it worse."

Jean too frowned as he realized just how upset she must be. Oddly, it gave him some comfort that he'd made the right choice of gift. He wasn't sure how to transition to it, though. "Maybe I can make it better?" he suggested, his voice turning a little reedy against his wishes. His fingers played with the velvet of the drawstring bag in his pocket.

"Thanks, but…I doubt there's anything you can do," she said. She looked at him. "Why'd you come all the way up here, anyway? Just to wish me Happy Birthday? Surprised you knew when it was, to be honest."

"Is it really that odd?" he gave a huff of nervous laughter. "You, err, mean a lot to me. And it's no big deal, really."

"Well, I don't want to take up your evening – I should get back to my patrol," she said, turning to go.

"No! Wait!" he exclaimed and at her shocked expression, cleared his throat and continued in a calmer tone, "I, um. Well. I have…something for you. A gift. Just a little something, it's not much, but…" He fished the bag out of his coat pocket and held it for her to take.

Mercedes handled it carefully and began to ease it open. When the polished, glimmering gold of her bangle emerged in her fingers, he felt a violent blush bloom on his cheeks and he stood frozen to the spot, waiting for her reaction. She was quiet as she turned it over in her hands.

"So you stole it," she said blandly.

"Borrowed," he corrected, a fear gripping him that maybe he'd made the wrong choice after all. "Baena helped me."

"I thought it was gone for good." Her tone changed from wistful to dry, "That's a cheap way to get someone a birthday present, you know. Stealing something they already own and giving it back to them."

Jean smiled and reached for her hands, directing them. "Look," he said eagerly as the head of the jaguar rose into view between them.

Mercedes stared at it for a moment in shock; her hands began to shake and, he suspected – hoped? – not from the cold. "The missing eye – you replaced it?" she looked up at him and he averted his gaze, embarrassment overcoming him. "Holy shit. That…that must have cost you…too much."

"It was worth it, though," he said lowly. His hands still cupped hers that cupped the bangle, and he took it, slipping it back over her wrist where it belonged. "Sorry if I worried you."

"You shouldn't have done this. Why'd you spend your money on me? There were so many things you could have done with it – the price of an emerald, even a small one – that's a herd of horses. That's a house, Jean," she said sternly, staring at him as if chastising a child.

He was still smiling as he replied softly, firmly, "But do you like it?"

Mercedes fell quiet. "Yes," she replied equally softly. "I do."

"Good. That's what matters. Forget about the rest."

Nothing else was said for a few moments as Mercedes pinched the bangle between her fingers, angling the jaguar's head in the dim light so that its eyes caught fire. "Thank you," she said.

"Happy Birthday." Another pause; Jean felt his blush finally going away and his anxiety settling, replaced by the odd sense of comfort he felt just being with her. "So, need some company on your patrol?"

"That'd be nice. If you don't have anything better to do, I guess," she shrugged and laughed a little. He was relieved to finally see her smile again as she looked up at him.

"Never," he replied. It was Mercedes' turn to blush a little at his words – he could barely see it, but it was definitely there. They held gazes for a little longer than necessary and Jean felt it safe, though still nerve-wracking, to take her doll-like hand in his larger one as they began to walk the Wall. Mercedes' face took on a brief note of shock, but she didn't resist; in fact, she squeezed his ever so slightly after a few paces.

"Your hand's cold," she said, as if it was the only thing she could come up with. It shattered his giddy haze of the first semi-romantic thing that'd transpired between them but far from bothering him, it made her more endearing.

"That's all you could think to say?" Jean laughed. "And anyway, yours is, too."

"You didn't have to hold it," Mercedes retorted, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I wanted to. And you didn't have to hold it back."

"'Hold it back'? What are you, twelve?"

"No. Is holding your hand a crime, now? I wanted to, okay?"

"Well there you go, then, now shut up."

"You shut up."

"Can we just hold hands without arguing?"

"I suppose we could give it a shot."