So this is coming completely out of left field but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. I don't think pigeon post was actually a thing in Europe during the Middle Ages, but AoT is full of anachronisms, so I think we can fit it in here without too much trouble.
It had started, as usual, with Jean getting mad about something stupid Eren had said. They'd been passing each other in the barracks, Armin glued to Eren's side and Marco and Connie keeping pace with Jean. He can't even remember now exactly what Eren said, but their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Jean had his hand fisted in the collar of Eren's shirt and the other boy was glaring up at him, daring him to be the first one to throw a punch. Armin squeaked out something undecipherable and Marco tried to tell Jean that it wasn't worth getting in a fight over, but Eren's face had been infuriating as he taunted, "Yeah, Jean, it's not worth it."
Jean Kirstein does not, has not, and will never be the kind of person to back down. Eren was momentarily stunned into silence when he stumbled back from the punch to the face, but he recovered almost immediately, looking at Jean with wild eyes that told him he'd made a terrible mistake.
By the time Armin had come back with Shadis, Marco and Connie had long given up on trying to pull them apart, the latter sporting a black eye for his trouble. Shadis didn't look surprised; he strode forward, pulled Jean off of Eren and slammed him against the wall, holding him there with a forearm across his collar, and kept Eren down with a boot over his chest. "Are you boys about done?" he asked, glare shifting between them as they refused to look at one another. He glanced back at the bystanders. "Who started it?"
Connie's mouth remained firmly shut when Jean's eyes found his from over Shadis' shoulder, promising hell if he said a word. Marco, however, wasn't intimidated. "Jean threw the first punch, sir," he said.
"Traitor," Jean seethed, falling silent when Shadis' glare turned on him.
"I told you punks last time I wouldn't put up with any more of your bullshit," he said, glancing at Eren. "Jeager, I don't care what you were doing before. You've got stable duty now, and tomorrow, and the rest of the week. Kiss your downtime goodbye."
Eren muttered a, "yes, sir," smart enough by now to know that arguing with Shadis was a terrible idea.
"And Kirstein, since you started it, you're going to spend all of your free time for the next week at the garrison's pigeon loft."
Jean's eyes widened. "The what?" he sputtered.
Shadis' eyes narrowed. "You heard me just fine." He let them both go. "I've got more important things to do than babysit you two, so you'd better get moving. If I hear you didn't show up for duty or spent the whole time messing around, you will be publicly flogged. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
As Shadis walked away, Jean threw one last dirty look at Eren, but Marco dragged him the other way, muttering, "Don't even think about it."
Jean heard the military's most embarrassing post assignment before he saw it. A quiet mutter of pigeon coos rose to a dull murmur as he approached, a few birds loitering in the afternoon sun outside of the coop. Resembling a miniature trading post, the pigeon coop was a wooden structure painted bright red, situated behind the garrison offices in a grassy yard. Jean stepped over a bird strutting in his path, approaching a garrison soldier with a stack of parchments in his hands, leaning against one of the coop walls.
"Excuse me," he called.
The soldier looked up from his clipboard, eyes lighting up. "Ah," he said, "You must be the new volunteer. Shadis told me to expect you."
Volunteer, Jean thought, inwardly laughing, Riiiiiiight.
"Well, head on in," the soldier said, handing the papers to him, "The post captain will be in charge of you as long as you're here."
"What exactly do I do?" Jean tried to ask, but the man was already walking away, probably in a hurry to get as far away from the coop as possible. Jean took a deep breath, swallowed his pride, and opened the door.
There were birds everywhere, heads bobbing as they paraded around the coop floor, nesting in cube-shaped dens built into the walls, and a few clustered around the feet of a woman on the far end of the coop with her back turned to him. She was wearing a dress rather than a soldier's uniform, and she had her hair tied up in a bun. "I'm looking for the, uh," Jean paused, "post captain?"
"Post captain?" the woman repeated, turning around. Jean was startled to find that they were around the same age. Her surprise gave way to amusement and she covered up her laughter with one hand; the other was holding a pigeon. "Is that what they're calling me now?"
Jean just stared blankly.
"You're the new volunteer, right?" she asked, stepping over the pigeons strutting around without having to even look down. "I'm Elle. It's nice to meet you. And I guess you can call me the "post captain," if you want, but it sounds kind of silly."
"Jean," he introduced himself, offering a hand, and she took it, shaking firmly. "So what exactly do you do around here?"
"Lots of things," Elle told him with a smile, "I take care of the pigeons, decode messages, and forward information to the capital." She passed him for the grid of pigeon nests in the wall, setting the pigeon in her hand into one of the cubes, where it settled into its nest. When Elle gestured for him to come over, Jean did as he was asked. "Look there," she said, pointing at the bird she'd just set down, "That's Samson. He's very old, but he's bright, and he's been instrumental in our battle against the Titans."
Samson was noticeably larger than many of the other birds, and he had some sort of crusty growth on top of his beak. He was colored in splotches of gray and white, looking a bit like somebody had splattered paint on him, and had tiny orange eyes.
Jean's first question was actually, "You name the birds?" but instead he asked the second thing that came to mind. "He's a bird," he said, looking down into Samson's beady little eyes, "How does he fight Titans?"
"He doesn't fight," Elle corrected, smiling excitedly as though sharing a secret, "When the Survey Corps ventures out, he goes with them, and he brings us whatever notes they make. Samson has brought back valuable information on Titan behavior and physiology long before the soldiers returned." She reached into the box, stroking his feathered head, and the pigeon made a soft, pleased coo. "When there's danger, they send him back early with the data they've collected, just in case nobody comes back alive. He's practically an honorary member of the Survey Corps." Abruptly, she stopped petting the bird and looked at Jean curiously. "Are you aiming for the Survey Corps, too?"
"Uh. No," he said, "Military Police, actually."
"Oh," Elle said, and even though she was still smiling, she sounded somewhat disappointed. Jean tried not to be offended. "Well, that's okay, too. While you're here, you'll help me take care of the pigeons," she said, voice notably lacking the enthusiasm from before. "They need food and water twice a day, so you'll handle one of the feeding periods. You'll also need to scrape out waste, once when you get here and once before you leave. Keeping out drafts and making sure it stays dry in here is important; if the coop needs repairs, you'll handle that, as well."
Jean grimaced. At the very least, he knew Eren would be shoveling horse shit right about now, but the pigeon post was such an embarrassing assignment he knew he wouldn't live it down for weeks.
"…and Felix is getting on in years, so his eyesight isn't the best, so if he doesn't go for the food right away, you might," Elle abruptly stopped, and Jean suddenly realized he'd spaced out. "Are you listening?"
"Yeah," he said, trying to sound self-assured.
"Good. Anyway, Felix doesn't see very well, so—!"
"Sorry, but," Jean turned to the rows of nests, "Which one is Felix? How am I supposed to keep track of this?"
Elle tapped on the papers he was holding, and he glanced down at it for the first time, finding that the sheet on top had a grid with names written in each of the boxes. "Oh," he said sheepishly.
"I know it probably doesn't seem like the most interesting job in the world to you," Elle said, sounding as though she'd said the same thing several times before, "But these birds really are a valuable part of the military, and taking care of them is important."
"I never said it wasn't," Jean said defensively. Elle said nothing, turning away. "What are you gonna do?"
"I have to take care of something else," she said without looking back at him, "Everything you need to know is in the packet, but if you really need help, I'll be in the garrison offices." Without another word, she walked out of the coop, shutting the door behind her, and leaving Jean alone and surrounded by warbling pigeons.
Taking a deep breath, Jean began flipping through the papers, reading where the food was stored, feeding procedures, how to clean out the coop, on and on, until the words all began to run together and he set the papers down in the corner, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.
Sasha was probably dishing out whatever she'd pilfered from their superior officer's supplies, and Marco and Connie were probably scolding her while enjoying some of the food. Jean cursed under his breath, angry at Eren for being aggravating and himself for getting carried away. Now he was stuck tending to pigeons, alone, for hours at a time every day for the rest of the week.
"Are you really all that smart?" he asked Samson, who stared up at him unblinkingly. Jean realized he was talking to a pigeon and quickly got back to work, eager to finish for the day.
Elle came back to relieve him after what felt like an eternity of scraping bird waste off of wood, and he felt his already thinly-worn patience rapidly disappearing when she giggled at the sight of him. "What?" he snapped.
"Nothing," she said, "Sorry. It's just that you looked so serious when I came in." She walked over to the nests, pushing the hay in an empty cube around with one finger. "Nice and clean. You did well," she said, sounding impressed.
"Well, yeah. I wasn't going to just mess around," Jean scoffed, leaving out that he wouldn't because Shadis would kill him.
"You really worked hard," she said, and then paused, looking down thoughtfully. When she looked up at Jean again, she was smiling. "I'm sorry, I think I might have misjudged you earlier. You're not such a bad guy after all."
"Thank you…?" Jean said uneasily, thinking back and trying to figure out what he'd done to make him seem like an awful person and coming up empty.
"You're done for today," Elle told him, "I'll take it from here. I'll be sure to let Instructor Shadis know you did a good job."
For the first time that day, Jean gave a relieved smile. "Thanks," he said.
He didn't miss the way Elle looked away, face flushed ever so slightly, but he didn't comment on it. "See you tomorrow," she told him as he left the loft.
Tomorrow, Jean thought, inwardly groaning, that's right, he had to come back. Then again, despite the embarrassment, he thought he'd take it over the stables, and at least this way he was guaranteed to not have to look at Eren's face for a few hours a day. Maybe the pigeon post wouldn't be so bad after all.