Psh. Eren can say whatever he wants—it's not like Jean has to believe him. Jean doesn't have to believe anything that anybody else says! …Especially not the final judgment, as loudly proclaimed by Ymir, that Eren's abs are indeed larger than Jean's. Whatever. It's not like he cares anyways. Jean's a tough guy who definitely wouldn't be hiding by himself in a bathroom stall using copious amounts of tissue paper to mop up his manly tears, just because Ymir laughed at him for being 'taller and smaller.'

Dammit, where's Marco when Jean needs a chest to cry on? Marco would know what to say. Maybe something like, (Don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about. They haven't experienced what I've experienced. It's not tiny at all.)

Wait a minute, Ymir had been talking about his abs. Five and a half abs, in fact. According to Ymir's stupid judgment, Jean didn't have a full six-pack. Whatever.

Imaginary-Marco just gives him a mysterious smile.

Jean is startled out of his conversation with the perverted Marco in his head when somebody knocks loudly on his bathroom stall. Seconds later, hands grip the top of the stall door as the real Marco boosts himself up. "Hey Jean!"

"Augh!" Jean instinctively covers his crotch, even though he's seated on the closed toilet with his pants up. "Marco! You pervert!"

"Relax. Both you and I know you usually don't take your daily dump until eleven. Your body won't be ejecting anything for another four hours."

"What if I was sick and exploding or something?" Jean splutters. "Or what if I just ate a really huge meal?"

"Unless Connie's come by with more bread to stuff down your throat—and he probably hasn't, since he's mostly been sticking around Mikasa," Marco says smoothly, "You wouldn't have eaten anything more."

Jean's anger flares to life as he remembers how Connie had humiliated him in front of the entire squad during lunch. His coolness factor had taken a severe blow in front of everybody, but even worse than that, it had been in front of Mikasa. He's going to have to be twice as cool now around Mikasa just to make up for today's embarrassment.

Marco's saying something about distracting Jean from thinking about Misaka by checking out that huge flaming fireball that fell into the forest and exploded half an hour ago, but Jean isn't listening. Instead, he interrupts, "I need to be really cool. Where could we get a pipe, Marco?"

Marco drops back behind the stall door again as the arms holding him up give out. He knocks against the wood. "Com'on, Jean. Open up."

"W-w-what are you talking about? I'm—"

"—not shitting, that's for sure. Just open up, okay?"

"But… but two guys talking in the same bathroom stall isn't cool!"

"You're the one asking me how to score points with The Lady, and I'd rather do it in a situation where I can talk to your face without having to peek over the top of the stall door like a pervert, so let me in."

This definitely was not the comforting conversation Jean had been imagining. Where's the nice guy with the warm hugs and soothing words? Still, he finds himself unlatching the door, and Marco squeezes in. It's only then that Jean realizes that the bathroom stalls were not made to hold two people; even when Marco leans against the closed door, his legs still straddle Jean's knees. "Nobody outside of Wall Sina has the money for tobacco, so no, if we broke into Instructor Shadis' office, he wouldn't have a pipe," Marco explains sternly. "Until we become Military Police, we won't even have time for smoking."

Feeling a bit vulnerable here (because he's sitting and Marco's legs are spread slightly so he can stand around Jean's knees and why is Jean even thinking like this), Jean leaps onto the opportunity to bring Marco down a peg. "Revealing your true colors, eh?" he smirks. "So you do have reasons for living within Wall Sina other than offering up your services to the King!"

Marco flushes and he folds his arms. "You brought it up first. But hey—maybe you're not so uncool as you thought, because Mikasa's been looking for you."

Sunshine and rainbows and butterflies of joyfulness flash through Jean's mind, but he tries not to show just how ridiculously excited that news makes him. "Uh… whoa. Yeah. Cool." (HolycrapMisaka'slookingformespecifically takethatEren!) "Where is...I mean, really?"

"Her exact words were 'I need to talk to Jean.' She's been asking everybody if they've seen you around—and of course they haven't, because you've been hiding in here."

"Wha—wait, how did you know where I was?"

Marco leans forward and taps Jean's forehead. "I know you," he smiles mysteriously. "The others haven't experienced what I've experienced."

Hot blood rises up from Jean's chin to forehead in a matter of milliseconds. He hurriedly leaps to his feet and attempts to leave the bathroom stall to hide his embarrassment, but he misjudges the size of the stall (tiny is what it is) and ends up body-slamming Marco into the stall door instead.

"Ah! Ouch!" Marco cries as Jean tackles him against the door again and again in increasingly frantic attempts to escape. "Stop! You're not doing this right!"

"Why are you so big and inflexible? Just bend a little more!"

"Jean! Oh! You're hurting me!"

"Well if you'd just move along with me, then you won't be so sore—"

They both freeze as somebody outside clears his throat very loudly.

"I'd tell you to get a room," Armin's voice says slowly, "But Mikasa's looking for you, Jean. I know she doesn't show it well, but she's getting pretty desperate."

(!)

Abandoning all caution, Jean ignores Marco's obstructing body and the barrier of the stall door. His extreme skill at the 3D Maneuver Gear stems from his natural acrobatic ability; it doesn't take much for Jean to leap into the air, brace his feet against the wall behind him, and accelerate to an effective ramming speed within the space of a single second.

WHAM.

Jean peels himself off of Marco's crushed body on the floor and pops up to his feet, brushing wooden splinters and a little bit of blood off his green button-up shirt. He barely registers Armin's own injuries (is that a crack in his skull?) as he yells, "Where is she?"

"Next to the—"

Jean doesn't bother with doors, exploding through the wooden walls instead. Doors are for lame people with no right to assist Mikasa. She needs him and he will be there for her!

He's just rounding the corner of a classroom building when he screeches to a halt, because Mikasa is right there in front of him. "Mikasaaaa!" he cries joyfully, before remembering that he has to be all cool and shit. "Um—I mean—hey there, baby. Wassup?"

Wordlessly, Mikasa grabs the front of his shirt… and begins to unbutton it.

Jean's entire body freezes up instantly, then immediately switches to the sensation of burning up in that fiery water that Armin has talked about. He sweats more in three seconds than Bertolt has ever sweated in an entire day. He's subconsciously drooling more than Sasha at an all-meat barbeque. He instantly forgives Connie for violating him with bread in front of Mikasa.

(Stay cool, man. This is completely normal. Girls throw themselves onto your hot bod all the time. You don't need to get all twitterpated just because…)

…Just because Mikasa Ackerman is undressing him one. button. at. a. time.

If he doesn't get moral support this instance, Jean's going to melt into a puddle of blubbering goo.

(Marco! Help me! What should I do? How do I keep my cool?)

Unfortunately, Marco is still lying in an unresponsive heap on the bathroom floor.

Mikasa parts his shirt to either side and stares at his stomach and then she puts her hand on his abs and feels him up.

He feels like he's rising upwards. His heart thumps loudly in his chest and blood rushes through his ears. Is this what climbing the staircase to maturity and adulthood feels like?

(Nah,) says pervert!Marco in his head. (Something's growing upwards, but it's definitely not your brain.)

"Ymir was right," Mikasa breathes.

(…WUT.)

Mikasa looks at him imploringly. "Please, Jean!" she practically begs. "Eren says he doesn't like girls with abs bigger than his—so teach me how to make my abs as small as yours!"

(Marcoooo, the stairs to maturity are too steep…)

(From what I could see, you were already halfway there…!)

(Shut up. Just shut up.)

He wraps his unbuttoned shirt around his smaller abs as much as he can and runs away from her then, leaving behind him a sparkling trail of teardrops that fall in beautiful slow motion.

Marco. He needs to talk to the real Marco. He needs to get back to the boys' bathroom, nurse his friend back to health, apologize for accidentally knocking him unconscious and breaking some bones in his futile attempts to reach Mikasa, and then cry into Marco's chest. That sounds like a good plan. Crying excessively over Marco's body seems to be he ever does in the fandom works, right?

Jean's breaking-of-the-fourth-wall is interrupted suddenly by the screaming body that falls from the sky and lands directly on top of him. The two slide for a meter or three in the dirt before finally grinding to a halt. Even in the fading light of the approaching night, the sheer amount of sweat coating the naked torso of the body atop him clues Jean into the identity of his flying attacker.

"Bertolt?"

"A-a-ah, I'm s-s-sorry," pants the giant, not moving from where he lies slumped over Jean's body. "I—"

Jean pushes himself onto his elbows, coughing on dirt. His unbuttoned shirt now hangs in tatters on his shoulders, torn to shreds when they rolled around in the dust. "Bertl, what happened? Where did your shirt go?"

"Jean… I…"

"Gay!" shouts Dazz as he passes by.

"Shut up, monkey butt face!" is the best thing Jean can come up with as he frantically tries to stand. "Bertl, where the hell did you come from?"

"I came…" Bertolt seems like he just wants to go to sleep, as he isn't putting any effort into getting to his feet. Jean tries to pull Bertolt up, but the guy really is big, definitely taller than Jean is. Ymir's mocking words 'taller and smaller' drift in his mind, and Jean subconsciously presses the flat of his hand against Bertolt's abdominals as a test…

He only just registers that Bertolt is ripped (and even more sweaty than normal) before a massive fist almost knocks his head off his shoulders. He rolls another meter or two before skidding to a painful stop, cradling his head in his arms. "Ow! Why? Why me?"

"Hands off," Reiner rumbles, his gigantic body shielding Bertolt's. "Nobody rolls around in the dirt with my man without going through me first."

"He jumped me without a shirt on!"

"Impossible, he's already spent! Just look at him!" Reiner's right; Bertolt is practically sleeping against Reiner's back, his face nuzzled up against Reiner's neck.

"What? In midair?" Jean splutters. "Whatever, I'd rather cop a feel on…" (Everybody knows just how much I hate Eren's guts, right?) "… on Eren before getting it on with anybody else, most of all Bertolt!"

Right?

"That's not saying much," laughs Reiner mirthlessly.

Jean tries to get to his feet, but he almost loses his balance and has to get to his knees quickly. Reiner's fist really did a number on his head. "I'm straight," he growls. "Seriously, just how many guys are people going to pair me with? And Eren, of all people! Even if we were the last two people on the planet and had to repopulate the earth with our sex spawn, I still wouldn't bang him!"

A gentle hand alights softly on his shoulder. Jean is startled when Mikasa crouches behind him, both hands resting in a vaguely comforting manner on his lower back. "Jean," she murmurs softly.

She is calm. Deceptively so. Unless one looks directly into Mikasa's eyes, it's really hard to tell what she's thinking. Currently, Mikasa is behind him, and the sun has already set, and her face is probably cast into shadow, and he'd just been saying things about Eren… "Uh, Mikasa… just how much on that conversation did you hear?"

"I followed you when you suddenly ran away," she replies evenly. "I arrived to witness an undressed Bertolt sitting in your lap and in the process of tearing your shirt off."

Reiner growls possessively in the distance. Jean hysterically protests, "No! You started taking off my clothes first!"

"Reiner arrived to complete your only true threesome," continues Mikasa without missing a beat, "And, worst of all, you concluded your conversation by insulting Eren."

Jean's frantic objections are mercilessly silenced by this last statement. "But…"

"I am explaining your most recent events so that you will understand why I am doing what I will do." Her arms wrap themselves around his waist like vicegrips as she suddenly stands up, lifting him into the air and off his legs.

"Noooo, Mikasa!" Jean screams. "You're the only—"

Mikasa arches her back and falls backwards and smashes his already wounded head into the ground via a perfect German suplex, and all Jean gets for his anguished half-declaration of love is a mouthful of dirt. In the milliseconds before Jean loses consciousness, watching his last chance to be a cool dude in front of his crush die a horrible, bloody death, he decides to do the next best thing. The only option left to him.

(Connie. Reiner. Bertolt. Ymir. Eren. They must die.)

Begin Operation Prank Wars.

Author's Note: Reviews have become almost nonexistent, making for a very sad author :(

Next time: Ymir finally gets a say in things.

"If you're going to work on making anything bigger, make sure the boobs come first, okay? Promise me!"

"But Ymir—"

"Boobs first! Abs later."