Marco glared down at the wheelchair he was sitting in. He hated it. It wasn't something he let the others know, pretending to be fine so they wouldn't worry. But he hated it. He felt useless not being able to walk, he felt weak for having been trapped in it in the first place. He belonged out there, with his friends – the family he'd formed in training. They were risking their lives every day fighting for humanity. And where was he? Inside being a secretary, sitting on his fattening ass and doing nothing. It wasn't really fattening: he still did the few exercises that he could. Plus he had to keep his arms strong for the chair. But in this mind-set it was very easy for him to find faults with himself.
He didn't hear the door open and close, he was too deep in his own thoughts. He didn't hear Jean call his name, he only noticed the other when he felt a pair of arms slide around him.
"Hey baby, you're quiet today?"
Marco sighed and nodded. "Yeah, just thinking."
Jean rested his head on the freckled boy's shoulder. "About?" though there was a knowing in his voice. Marco didn't say anything. Jean sighed. "Marco…"
"I'm sorry I can't help anymore."
Jean tightened his arms around Marco. "You do, and not just with the notes and shit."
"How? Moral support? I'm sure that helps a lot when people are being eaten and if at least one other person was there someone getting killed might not have happened."
Jean rubbed up and down along Marco's shoulders. "Hey, hey, don't be like that." Marco remained silent. "You better not be thinking negatively of yourself. Self-hate isn't allowed in this house." Marco sighed out through his nose, but he otherwise remained quiet. Jean moved around the side, scooping Marco out of the wheelchair. Mindful of his boyfriend's legs, Jean carried him to the couch and dumped him on it. "Looks like I'm gunna have to make you happy." With that he lifted Marco's shirt.
"Jean… I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, no, no it's not that." With that Jean bent down, blowing out a puff of air on Marco's stomach. Marco's uncovered eye widened as he couldn't help but snicker softly. "There we go! That's better."
Marco reached down, and gently pulled Jean up, wrapping his arms around him. He knew Jean was just trying to help, and when the freckled boy entered a state of mind like this, that wasn't an easy task. Maybe if he gave in and let Jean try to cheer him up it would work. He didn't like being in these moods. Pushing Jean back up with the flat of his hand, Marco sat up, carefully moving his legs over the side of the couch. He then grabbed one of the couch cushions, tossed it to Jean, and then grabbed another, forcing a cheerful grin. That was what he usually did; fake the happiness until he was able to actually feel it. "Alright, let's see how you are at a pillow war."
Jean smirked himself, raising his pillow to block a swipe from Marco's. "You're on, Freckles." He swung his own pillow which was blocked by Marco's.
As the play fight went on, Marco found himself actually enjoying it, his spirits lifting as the various swings were given more energy.
"You're cheating, you keep blocking my swings!" he giggled.
Jean laughed, blocking another swing. "Not my fault you hit like a little kid! Mikey's got more power!"
Marco's mouth dropped in mock hurt. "Ho ho ho… now you're gunna get it." Using his arms, he pushed himself forward and climbed onto Jean, effectively pinning him. "Now whatcha gunna do?"
Jean's hands shot under Marco's arms, slender fingers lightly poking and prodding causing the boy above to melt down into laughs. To counter, Marco started a similar assault on Jean's ribs.
"Gah! No! Mercy! Mercy!" Jean shouted between his own fits of bubbly laugher.
This continued on for a while until the pair needed to pause and allow themselves to breathe.
Sighing a chuckle, Marco leant down and rested his forehead on Jean's, closing his eye as he did so. "Thank you." He did feel better.
Jean tilted his head, stealing a quick kiss. "No problem, babe."
