Well... one more chapter to go!

I can not stress how much I love writing Jean, especially in chapter's like this one where he's just a little shit.
Hope you guys enjoy it ;) Look forward to the next chapter which will be THE LAST O.O

My tumblr: freckledbodty

Chapter Twenty One

The next few weeks were a blur of final shoots, interviews, more 'gay club' meetings (thanks Reiner), and lazing about under the duvet. Marco didn't really mention his family and what happened, he seemed to have been all cried out by the time we'd gotten back to the city… but he also looked relieved. He was back to his usual self; like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He'd faced up to them, and it seemed like that was enough for now.

"Alright," Marco called as he came out of the bedroom, fiddling with the tie he was trying to put on. "There's some leftover curry on the bench, you do know how to heat it up, right?"

I flicked the TV off and shot a glare over the back of the sofa at him. "You talk to my mum way too much. I put the fork in the microwave one time."

"One time's all it takes to blow my house up," Marco winked, positioning his tie over his shirt. He wandered through to the kitchen, rattling around for a moment, and came back over and dropped his hands helplessly to his sides. "Should I put some suit pants on instead?"

I rolled my eyes and turned the TV back on. "Jeans are fine, it's just dinner and drinks. It's not a date or anything."

"Who said it's not?" Marco's sing-song voice asked.

"You're banging me. There's no way you'd need anyone else."

He chuckled, and I heard him padding over. He stepped in front of me, blocking my view for the TV and raising an eyebrow. "Don't wait up, ok? I know you're exhausted. And Mina likes to go all out when she's celebrating."

I sunk into the cushions, pouting. "This is bullshit. Why does everyone else get their agents taking them out to celebrate? You get a fancy dinner, Jaeger gets laid… Do you know what Hanji did to 'congratulate' me for finishing the film? She let off a stink bomb in her office and locked me in there."

Marco grimaced. "I know. I had to live with you stinking for the next few days."

"I knew that was why you made me sleep in the other bedroom! 'Ill' my arse."

"You reeked, what else was I supposed to do?"

I turned my head to the side, refusing to look at my traitorous boyfriend as he rambled on about how sorry he was and that he couldn't help it. He shuffled forward, moaning that I was ignoring him, and I did my very best to keep doing just that. Eventually his hands were hooking around my neck, and he was slipping onto my lap.

"How about I make it up to you by helping you celebrate tonight? Would you forgive me then?" he said, rolling his hips teasingly.

Don't judge me. I'm a healthy young man with needs.

By the time the knock on the door interrupted us, I was pinning Marco to the sofa with my tongue half way down his throat and my hand half way down his pants.

"Fuck, seriously?" I groaned, dropping my head onto Marco's shoulder.

He chuckled and patted my back. "I did say we'd celebrate tonight. As in, when I get back."

"You are a bastard. An unfair, teasing, bastard," I said into his shoulder.

The knocking became more hurried and Marco pressed a kiss to my head before pushing me off so he could get to the door. I felt somewhat happier watching him desperately readjusting his clothes on his way. As expected, Mina was waiting on the other side, pretty much bouncing off the walls she was so excited for her and Marco's 'big night out'. She lingered only long enough to make a few unnecessary jokes about how Marco would probably get hit on by everyone in the bar, and to point out that Marco's lips looked a little swollen. Marco glared my way, but I shrugged and pointed out "You live with me, your lips are always swollen". And then, they were gone, leaving me with nothing on tele, and a curry I was a little scared to heat up.

Fun night with Jean Kirschtein over here.

I'd contemplated calling someone, but Connie and Sasha were at a football game, Armin was working, Jaeger was (as previously mentioned) getting laid, which also meant Mikasa wouldn't bother coming round. The only other options were Reiner and Christa really, but like me, they'd only just finished shooting their last scenes, so they were probably exhausted too.

I figured that meant I was stuck watching a movie until Marco got back to give me a better type of entertainment.

Only two hours later, and I was bored out of my skull. I was still avoiding trying to heat up the curry, and I'd gone from the Coke to the Beers to try and keep myself busy. My small but spectacular collection of DVDs were all I had once I realised just how terrible Sunday night television was. I was halfway through the first Iron Man when someone knocked on the door.

I glanced at the clock: only seven? There was no way in hell Marco would be back already – not that he'd need to knock anyway – and it wasn't like I'd actually called anyone up to ask them around, I just thought about it. Unless Hanji had sensed my disappointment and had come to take me out, or a neighbour, I was pretty lost for who it could be.

They knocked again, notably irritated and I started to wonder if it really was a neighbour coming round to complain about something. (Please not loud sex… please don't complain about the loud sex). I paused the movie and left my beer on the coffee table, growing more and more irritated myself as the knocking became more vicious.

"Yeah, yeah, calm down!" I ordered as I pulled the door open.

Mrs Bodt looked just as horrified to see me as I was to see her.

"Why are you here?" she asked, face immediately taking on that grimace I'd come to know so well at her house the other week. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, only a single brown strand out of place – hanging across her forehead. If I'd been in a better mood, I might have laughed since Marco always had a stray hair in the same place on his forehead after he wakes up. But, you know, the glare she was sending me sort of robbed me of any positives feelings at all, so laughing was out of the question.

I leant against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, and answered her question. "Gee, I don't know, it's almost like this is my apartment or something."

The amount of wrinkles on her forehead increased, so I gathered she didn't much like the joke. "Is my son here?"

"He's out."

"Where?"

"Why don't you ring him and ask?"

A flicker of something crossed over her face, but I couldn't quite tell what. She sniffed and raised her chin even more; she wasn't a particularly tall woman, not beside me anyway, but she still seemed determined to looking down on me.

"Marco hasn't answered any of my calls."

I couldn't stop the shock from showing on my face.

I knew Marco was still pissed about his mother's actions (how couldn't he be? I was!), but I didn't know he stopped talking her. He stopped talking about her… but I didn't think anything more of it. Shit, that wasn't really the best option…

"You mean you didn't know?" she asked, looking surprised herself. "I thought you had told him not to–"

"Hey!" I snapped. I hadn't meant to snap, but I had. "I know you think I'm the devil-incarnate, and I'm cool to play the part, but, sorry to disappoint, I'm not the kind of guy who'd make his boyfriend cut off contact with his parents." This woman was seriously trying to make me mad at her. Just what sort of person did she think I was? Some abusive, possessive boyfriend?

Thankfully, Mrs Bodt seemed to sort of regret the accusation, shuffling a little. "Why not?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Why wouldn't you tell him to cut off contact with me? I wasn't exactly… pleasant to you."

That was unexpected. I was starting to feel a little light-headed just from the weirdness of the situation. I sighed. "What I think of you is my business. Boyfriend or not, it's not my place to order Marco away from people. Never mind his own parents."

She pursed her lips, clearly thinking about the statement, and looked me over carefully. I couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious that I looked a million miles from the pristine, shirt-and-tie-wearing Jean she'd met at her house. I was standing there in an old t-shirt and a pair of joggers that, judging by the fact they were a little too long for me, were probably Marco's (I'd lost sense of whose lazy clothes were whose about a day after we moved in). Hell, I hadn't even had a shave this morning, and I was pretty sure I had a five o'clock shadow…

"And what do you think of me?"

I stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge just what the fuck she was doing here. To her credit, she stared back.

Oh well.

"I think you're a prejudice, homophobic, old hag."

Hey, she asked.

She blinked once, slowly, and nodded. "And I think you're a good-for-nothing chump, who wouldn't be good enough for my son, even you were a girl."

A dog barked somewhere inside the building, and two children sprinted up the stairs and straight past us. The world was loud and lively, whilst Mrs Bodt and I stood in a stalemate; eyes locked in some sort of stare down.

Still without blinking, Mrs Bodt lifted her hand, and for the first time I realised she was carrying a bunch of full plastic bags. "Have you eaten?"

It took me a second to realise she had actually asked that question. I straightened up; the side of my arm that had been leaning against the door was slightly fuzzy with numbness. "Err…" I intelligently said. "Marco left me out curry."

She scoffed. "Of course my poor son has to leave you out dinner. You'd probably starve without him." She didn't say anything else before marching past me and into the apartment. I couldn't react; I just stood and let her pass, turning to watch her go in disbelief.

"Are you going to stand their gaping or are you going to show me what dishes are actually useable?"

I was still too stunned to really process what was going on when I was sitting at the dining table with a steaming plate of Sunday roast in front of me. Mrs Bodt was doing the dishes that Marco had left me to do.

She brought dinner.

She brought leftovers of a Sunday roast, appeared at my door, offended me, and then forced her way inside to reheat and plate it for me.

This was fucking surreal.

She glanced over her shoulder at me. "I've put Marco's portion in the fridge. Make sure he eats it tomorrow. He needs a decent meal after he's been drinking."

"Sure thing," I nodded as I started to dig in. Somehow I wondered if these leftovers were supposed to be some sort of peace treaty – bearing in mind it was literally the exact same meal as the one we'd been having at the Bodts' house. Maybe she'd purposefully brought enough for two portions…

I kept eating – both endlessly grateful for the decent meal, and slightly terrified of what exactly was going on here. Mrs Bodt finished washing up, leaving the dishes to dry on the rack, and came back over to take a seat at the table opposite me. She watched me eating thoughtfully.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked, having already grabbed my beer that I'd left on the coffee table.

"No thank you, I won't stay long if Marco is out."

Then why haven't you left yet? I wanted to ask. But, let's face it, she was probably aware I was wondering that. Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the various parts of the apartment; her eyes hovered on the pin board we'd hung between the doors to the two bedrooms that we were slowly filling up with photos.

"Andrew and David believe I behaved… needlessly, the other day," she finally said.

"Yeah, well, so do me and Marco."

"I'm sure," She turned back to me, face still pretty unreadable. "You impressed them both. David said he respects men with a backbone."

I thought back to the other Bodt brother; yeah, I could definitely imagine him saying something like that. "He surprised me," I said. "When he opened the door I thought I was looking at another Marco. But, you know, then he opened his mouth."

Mrs Bodt sighed. "David's always been… Well, let's just say Marco got all the social graces."

"At least we agree on something."

We were both silent for another minute or two, before she leant back in her chair. "Andrew and I won't be attending the film premiere."

"That doesn't really surprise me…"

"I feel it would infringe upon Marco's night, and that's the last thing I want to do."

I didn't know if that surprised me or not; it sounded like the sort of thing a mother would say, but somehow I felt it was weird for her to be telling me this. What did she want, a medal? 'Congrats on being a decent mother'?

I probably shouldn't be thinking that whilst I was eating her cooking though…

"I… It's not that I'm against Marco's… way of life," I looked up at her, and immediately put my knife and fork down. It seemed like she was really trying hard to get something out. She nodded when she saw I'd done that. "It's just… not something I'm particularly comfortable with. He's never mentioned a boyfriend until you, so I never really believed it was something I had to become comfortable with."

Somewhere across the room, my phone started ringing. Mrs Bodt glanced at me, but I shook my head; whoever it was could wait. I got the feeling she needed to get this out now, or we'd miss the chance.

So she continued. "And, not that I blame him, but Marco's never really pushed the whole 'homosexual' thing before. Until you, that is. When he brought you round, I was… I was surprised at how close he had become with someone, though I'd only known about it for a few weeks. I understand why he didn't mention you earlier, but I just… expected him to tell me if there was ever anyone that important in his life," She was twiddling her fingers. Just like Marco did. "I understand that both you and Marco may not understand what I did, but I hope you understand that I do regret it, and that I will never love Marco any less for loving you."

I didn't really have to understand it; it was clear just by her being here, trying to explain herself to me, that she loved her son. And, no matter her feelings about me, that was enough.

"You don't need to tell him I was here," she quickly added. "I don't expect you to try and make me out to be a good–"

"Thursday."

Taking a deep breath, Mrs Bodt narrowed her eyes. "Sorry?"

"This Thursday I'm being dragged to some company thing for my agency. Marco will be free," I started on my meal again, not bothering to watch for her reaction.

"I see…" she said quietly. "Then, perhaps you could tell him I might drop by?"

"I'll make sure he's in."

The sigh she let out sounded like it was releasing al her worries and fears that had been hovering over her since she arrived. Until that sigh, I hadn't realised just how terrified she must have been to knock on the door.

"I imagine you'd be a very strange son-in-law, Mr Kirschtein."

I nearly choked.

One minute she was saying I was never going to be good enough for Marco, and then next she was acting like we were engaged? She moved faster than me, Christ!

Trying to hold back a smirk, I looked back at her. "And I imagine you'd be the typical mother-in-law from hell, Mrs Bodt."

She cocked an eyebrow. "And just when I was starting to think I might like you. You disappoint me."

"Don't worry, some of my best friends are people who hate my guts."

She shook her head. "How does my son put up with you?"

"I honestly have no idea."

The two of us sat for a while longer, saying nothing at all; Mrs Bodt stared around the room from her chair, whilst I finished the dinner she'd brought me, when I was done and carrying the plate to the sink, she stood and picked up her bags.

"I'll take my leave then. I hope you enjoyed the food."

"I did, thanks."

I saw her to the door, my hands in my pockets since I suddenly felt a little awkward again. She gave me one last nod before turning and starting down the stairs. I waited in the doorway, watching her back, taking in the slightly less tense shoulders…

…and I called out.

"Mrs Bodt?"

She turned.

"When Marco first told me about you, I told him that there was no way you could be a bad person, and I still stand by that."

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Because you raised Marco. And a guy that perfect, could only have been brought up by people who loved him unconditionally."

She cried as she said thank you.

It was well after midnight by the time Marco got back. I was lying curled up in bed – not asleep, just dozing – when I heard the door fumble open and him try to creep in as quietly as possible once he realised the lights were off. That was the funny thing about Marco: no matter how bladdered he was, he was still unbelievably considerate about other people. Of course, because he was drunk, he wasn't the best at staying quiet. I smiled as I listened to him tripping over more than a few times, and drop his keys – he gave up on finding them. Finally, as he opened the door to our room, I sat up on my elbows and smiled as he tiptoed inside.

"Shit," he said as he spotted me looking at him. "I woke you."

"I was already awake," I promised. He seemed relieved and went about getting ready for bed without being concerned about noise. "Good night?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "Had to send Mina home in a taxi. She was bad."

"You quite bad yourself," I pointed out.

"But I don't act bad when I'm bad, see?"

"Not really…"

He stuck his tongue out at me and headed to the bathroom. I waited, listening to him go about his routine (intact even though he was drunk), and slid across the bed to allow him room when he was done. He grinned widely, shutting the doors and skipping across the room in the dark, before he pounced onto the mattress. I think he was trying to jump onto me, but he missed completely. He pulled me down, snuggling right up to me and nuzzling into my neck, pressing light kisses to my collarbone. And as much as I really wanted to 'celebrate' as he promised, now wasn't really the time... I hated that it wasn't the time...

"Don't freak out," I warned as I reached up and started stroking a hand through his hair.

He tensed a little, but seemed relaxed enough. "What?"

"Your mum stopped by."

Well, he was relaxed…

The kisses stopped. Hell, I think his breathing stopped. Pulling back, he stared at me with the widest eyes I've ever seen: he'd sobered up in about ten milliseconds.

"What?"

"Your mum stopped by."

"You sound weirdly ok with that."

"I am. We shared our opinions of one another, and then she fed me."

Now Marco just looked scared. "She fed you?"

"Yeah. Sunday roast leftovers. It was good. Yours is in the fridge," I was sort of glad Marco was stunned into silence. It meant he wasn't making me avoid the subject. The humour left my voice, and I started playing with his hair again. "She said you haven't been talking to her."

He frowned. "Can you blame me?"

"No. But you shouldn't be blaming her either."

"She–"

"She apologised to me. And she wants to make it right with you too," I told him. "I told her you'd be here on Thursday…"

His face was tight with worry and confliction. I gave him a moment to think before I spoke again.

"Was I out of line?"

He looked at me and sighed, trailing his fingers up and down my arm. "No… I'm more surprised you survived."

"Your mother and I made our dislike for each other clear," I promised with a smirk. "But, we do have one thing in common."

He groaned. "Are you going to say 'we both love you' or something sad like that?"

"Hey, I don't come out with many good romantic lines, at least let me try."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. His trailing fingers moved upwards, until the danced along my cheek. He pulled my face close, brushing our lips together softly.

"I'll talk to her," he whispered when he moved back. "Thank you, Jean."

"Just call me Jeremy Kyle!"

He didn't appreciate that.

Thankfully, one difference between Mrs Bodt and her youngest son, is that I can make Marco forgive me with one good kiss.

Wrapped up in each other, we soon fell asleep.