Mikasa
Armin studies me as I scan the overheard menu, for the third time. The film started thirty-five minutes ago. Leaning against the condiments counter, he's pretending to read a magazine, but I can imagine him juggling two options. He's deciding between cutting to the chase—sliding over a third can of Arizona sweet tea for a dollar, then sending me back into the theater—or letting me dilly-dally here, undisturbed.
"Transformers is a terrible choice for a first date, I'm guessing?" Armin asks, putting aside his issue of The Atlantic.
"It's actually a rom-com," I say quietly.
"You guys are watching Love, Simon? That's a solid movie, though."
"No, I agree. The movie isn't bad."
"What's got you popping in and out so much, then?"
I sift through my stockpile of bullshit excuses, but it's no use with Armin. He knows when to flick aside the red herrings, how to needle for the right answers. He's planning to island-hop with a string of questions. Why did he see me walk in with Jean? Why did I let him pay for my ticket? At the same time, why am I ducking out every ten minutes to buy can after can of iced tea? And why am I going on a date just hours after my father's own funeral?
I wish I had answers.
Thankfully, a group of patrons line up behind me, and Armin calls them over to the cashier. I watch him flash them his dimply grin, cajole them into ordering the largest bucket of popcorn available. After he hands them the receipt, he returns with another Arizona in hand.
"This one's on me," he says. "Employee discount."
"I've never gone on a date before," I say lamely, clutching the icy cold aluminum can in my hands.
"How would you say your first one is going so far?"
If we're going by the textbook definition of a "date," Jean is passing with flying colors. He nods after everything I say. He's brimming with anecdotes about his own life, but he also listens intently, even asking me to elaborate further. He's thoughtful enough to get us extra napkins, and he greets the ice cream parlor staff by name. He holds the door, he can tell jokes, and he never interrupts me.
"I don't know," is all I can say.
Frankly, things were going alright, up until the movies. Something set off alarm bells in my head, something about sitting there right next to Jean in front of a big screen, speaking not a word to one another. He chose the row furthest back, a spot removed from the other moviegoers. As the opening scene played, I felt his elbow press against mine, and it remained there, a single fulcrum of contact anchored between us. He'd lean in to whisper comments close to my ear, and he'd nudge my arm every so often.
I had called Ymir for help the day before, and she had walked me through the plotline of a date. Ice cream, followed by movies, which serve as the lead-up to the backseat of his car. The classic setup of a high school date.
"Are you letting yourself have a good time?" Armin presses on gently. A valid question, seeing that not twelve hours ago we were at a funeral. Also, considering the fact that I arranged this on a thoughtless impulse.
"I don't think so."
"You're allowed to enjoy yourself, Mikasa."
"I don't remember how!" I blurt out. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what to say. I'm not good at this!"
He's stunned by my outburst, and it takes him a moment to come up with a response. "I, uh, I'm not the best person to ask about this, if I'm being honest with you," he manages with a nervous laugh. "I've never been on a date myself, but from what I hear, it's about getting to know the other person—well, more importantly, it's about seeing if his personality can mesh with yours."
"He's a perfectly okay person, it's just… I'm just ready to go home, Armin. I don't want to do all the backseat stuff that's supposed to happen after all this."
"Backseat stuff? Like hooking up?"
"Yeah…"
"You don't have to if you don't want to. Please don't let him pressure you into doing those kinds of things if you're not ready."
"It's not that he's pressuring me, it's just—ah, I don't know."
"Why did you agree to go on this date in the first place?"
"I asked him."
"Why did you?"
Images from that party flash through my mind. The way Eren pressed Annie against the wall, his hands claiming every inch of her body. His disheveled hair and messy clothes after lumbering downstairs from being with her.
"I should be getting back," I tell Armin before grabbing my Arizona.
When I sit down next to Jean once again, he asks me, "Everything okay? We can do something else if you're not feeling this movie, that's fine with me—"
"Can we go to Lake Michigan?"
I avoid looking in Armin's direction when I walk out, holding Jean's hand.
This spot by the lake was Ymir's recommendation. It sports a good view of a glittering downtown Chicago, and Ymir guaranteed, from personal experience, that we wouldn't be interrupted by a police officer tapping on the windows.
Jean turns off the ignition, but he keeps Frank Ocean playing on the stereo.
"Are you cold?" he asks me. I shake my head, insisting that I'm good.
We sit there, letting "Lost" play in the car, while a low-flying airplane flies across the lake, bound for O'Hare International.
"Sorry the movie sucked," Jean says.
"I'm sorry I picked it in the first place," I reply. "I thought we'd be better off just… going somewhere to hang out."
"You're not wrong. At least we can talk here."
"Among other things," I suggest. My heart races as he turns slowly, processing those words.
"What do you have in mind?" he asks. He un-clicks his seatbelt, and I do the same. He's leaning towards me, his hand reaching forward, his fingers brushing a lock of hair away from my face.
"We might have more room in the back."
The brisk Chicago wind lashes across my face as I step out of the car. This is happening. At least Jean's a good guy; Ymir told me that he has a reputation for treating girls well. Yet my hand shakes as I grab hold of the backseat door handle. But memories of watching those two in Ymir's living room flash through my head again, and I feel steady once more.
When I slide into the car, Jean wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I'm sitting pressed up next to him, so close that I can feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say immediately, but quickly, I add, "I'm sorry, this is my first time."
Surprised, he replies, "Is it really?"
"Yeah, sorry about that—"
"No, no, you're good. It's just you're so pretty! I would've thought that—never mind, it's nothing. We can take it slow, if you'd like."
I nod, and his hand cradles the back of my head. He cranes his head forward, and next thing I know, his lips are on mine. It's the strangest sensation, but we stay like that for a while before he pulls back just a bit, his forehead still pressed against mine, and he laughs, remarking, "Well, that's kissing for you."
It wasn't necessarily awful, but it was underwhelming, nothing like how they make it out to be on TV or in novels. I scramble for a response, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Uh, thank you," I manage.
"Do you want to keep doing this?"
"Yeah," I say, figuring, Why not? It's only 11:30, and if I have any chance at swerve around Levi's judgmental stare and annoying questions, I'll need to make it to 1AM, at least.
This time, Jean starts at my mouth, then moves across my jawline, down my neck, and I suck in a breath as his teeth graze my skin. I run a hand through his hair, venturing to tug lightly, and he lets out a low moan in response. His lips meet mine again, and he offers some tongue this time—which is so very incredibly weird—but I follow suit, matching his every movement. The longer we go, the heavier his breathing sounds, the more eagerly his hands roam my shoulders and back.
"I hope I'm doing this right," I tell him when we come up for air.
He kisses me briefly. "You're killing it, like you always do."
"Can you give me a hickey?"
"If that's what you want," he says breathlessly.
His gelled hair prickles the underside of my chin. He's back at my neck, and I'm baffled at how sensitive this area is, at how turned on he makes me from kissing his part of my body. My breath hitches when his palm reaches down to squeeze my ass. Experimentally, I take his hand in mine and guide it under my shirt, until he's touching my bra. He's clearly experienced; his fingers move like they're operating on autopilot. They slip under the cup, sliding it upwards, and his hand strokes my breast. His thumb traces circles against my nipple, and my breath hitches sharply.
"You like that?" he murmurs against my neck.
He kisses me on the mouth again, and against his lips, I whisper, "Yes, keep doing that."
His other hand mirrors its partner, and now I myself sitting there, my head angled back, eyes closed, mouth parted, as Jean massages both of my breasts under my sweater while marking my neck. This is all uncharted territory, but it also all makes sense now, as confusing as that sounds.
"Jean, wait."
"Yeah?"
When he stops kissing me and pulls back, I can see that his eyes are expectant, impatient. He wants me. I shrug myself out of my sweater, and the want in his eyes deepen. "Can we get this off too?" he asks, nodding at the bra twisted on my chest, shifted far out of its rightful place.
I unhook it, and the garment joins my discarded sweater on the floor of his car.
"You're so fucking pretty," Jean says, gently nudging me to lay back against the seat. He leaves a trail of kisses down my neck, across my clavicle, and finally, his tongue caresses my nipple while his thumb rubs my other breast. There's something about this that pulls gasps out of me, and I run my fingers through his hair. As he's doing this, one of his hands reaches down between my legs and touches a spot that makes me dig my nails into the carseat.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his breath hot against my skin.
"Let me take off my jeans." While I unbutton my pants and slide them past my ankles, he slips out of his shirt. In the dark, I can see the faint contours of his abdomen, a testament to years of athletics.
"Sorry, it's cramped back here," he says, leaning forward to kiss me.
His bare chest touches mine, and I can't help but marvel at how just an hour or so ago, we were only touching elbows across movie theater armrests. I didn't expect us to get this far, but this is what hooking up is, I suppose. It's an exhilarating joyride that progresses so quickly and unidirectionally that you can only stick your head out the window and feel the rush against your face. The fact that I'm giving so many first-time moments—my first date, my first kiss, my first physical experience—to a stranger is entirely irrelevant right now. Worry about the aftermath later. In the meantime, sink into the present.
His fingers press against my underwear, and a jolting sensation snaps me out of my thoughts. Jean gives me a sly grin, and it's obvious that my expression tells him everything. He parts my legs, moving aside my knee, and he continues stroking that spot, leaving me speechless.
"Kiss my breasts again," I find myself telling him, and I'm taken aback by how airy and desperate my voice sounds.
He complies without a second thought. His tongue sweeps across my nipple yet again, and the combined sensations of this and whatever's going on down there have me moaning, letting out noises that I've never heard from myself.
"You'll like it better if we get this off too," he says, tugging against the elastic of my underwear.
"Wait, are you having a good time?"
"Ladies first." He laughs, and I raise my hips so that he can pull my last piece of clothing off and fling it away somewhere in his car.
I finally understand why the lacrosse girls spoke so fondly of him around the campfire. In particular, I get why they used words like "generous" to describe him. "Guys only give a shit about themselves when it comes to matters like these. They leave you hanging, feeling like you wasted your fucking night," Ymir snorted when she talked me through what to expect after the movies. "But I guarantee you, Jean will give you one helluva time. Makes you actually want to give him a blowjob once he makes you come, believe it or not. Heh, maybe that's his secret."
His fingers make direct contact with that damned spot, and I let out another one of these humiliating but uncontrollable moans. But he smiles when I do. "Have you ever come before, Mikasa?"
"No," I gasp, as his touch builds speed.
"Do you wanna experience it tonight?" he asks.
"I wasn't expecting to," I manage, gritting my teeth. He alternates between hard pressure and light pressure, and it's like he's taunting me, working me up, but then leaving me begging for more when he cuts back.
Jean smirks. "Can I finger you?" He brushes against my opening, just slightly. "You're so wet right now."
I nod my head. And he slides a finger. Then a second. This feeling is different from that sensitive point between my legs. While that spot is electrifying, his fingers make me feel filled, complete almost.
"You like this?"
"Harder, Jean."
He moves his fingers faster. I part my legs wider, hoping that'll take more of him in.
"How's that, Mikasa?"
"I want… more."
"I have an idea. Sit up a little, will ya? And uh, here's a sweatshirt, if it's not comfortable for your head." He pulls a hoodie from under the seats and hands it to me. I scoot up until my shoulders are resting against the side door and cushion my neck with his clothing. Before he does anything else, Jean pauses to look me up and down. I feel myself blushing, overcome with embarrassment. He smiles at me. "I wish you could see yourself right now."
"Ass-naked in your car?"
"Ass-naked and beautiful."
He kisses me slowly, running a hand down the side of my body. His fingers draw shapes around my entrance, but they only dance on the rim, tormenting me again. His lips flutter down my neck, my chest, my stomach, and when his hair tickles the inside of my thighs, his tongue teases that spot, and I arch my back sharply. His fingers enter me once more, and his free hand squeezes my breast. He's skillful at orchestrating these sensitive sites in seamless concert, and I'm writhing in this backseat. We've hit max momentum, and there's no time to worry about the noises I'm making or how ridiculous I look before this boy I only recently met, declothed and exposed.
"How do you like this?" he asks, but I groan at this sudden interlude, goading him to continue, and he does so with a smile.
Every muscle feels tense, as if trying to contain something that thrashes against the confines of my body, just yearning to burst out. But as Jean continues, I feel my body losing this battle, little by little, until I give in entirely, craning my neck as this incredible sensation ripples out from my core. My body pulses for a moment after the climax, each beat softer than the last, and a wave of calm washes over the electricity. Jean sits up with a triumphant grin, and I laugh.
"Wow," I say, sitting up next to him. His arm curls around me, and I relax against him.
"Yep."
"That was something."
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah, absolutely."
"Glad to hear it."
"How do we make that happen for you?"
It seems Jean didn't expect to get this far either. We spent almost fifteen minutes crawling through his car, both naked, searching high and low for a condom, only to come up empty-handed. He promises me that it's uncomfortable in such cramped quarters and tells me that it's a thousand times better in a bed.
"After school one day this week, maybe?" he suggests, pecking me on the lips.
We spend another fifteen minutes trying to locate the clothes we had scattered around his car, using the flashlights on our phones. For the life of us, my bra is nowhere to be seen.
"Don't girls leave something behind anyways?" I remark. "If we want a second date?" And Jean laughs.
I let him hold my hand the whole drive back home. "No wonder everyone calls you 'generous,'" I tell him, and he stiffens in surprise.
"That's how I'm known with the lax girls?"
"There are worse reputations out there."
"You're not wrong, I guess."
He walks me up to my doorstep, still holding my hand, and on my front porch, he kisses me good-bye. I watch the taillights of his car turn the corner out of her neighborhood before stepping inside. The living room and kitchen lights are still on, and I tiptoe towards that direction. Levi is splayed across the couch with a book fanned across his face as a makeshift sleeping mask.
As if spurred by my presence, he grumbles and slowly sits up, twisting around to blink at me irritably. "You're back."
"You didn't have to wait."
He snorts, getting up to his feet and stretching his back. "I didn't wait. Dozed off, that's all."
"Sure."
"How much did it suck?"
"It didn't."
"Oh? Wanna regale me with any wild tales?"
I cross into the kitchen for a glass of water. Levi's eyes follow me, and he starts snickering.
"What?" I demand.
"I hope you have foundation or whatever you guys wear to cover things up," he sneers. "Make sure to cake that shit on tomorrow morning."
I see what he means when I step into the bathroom to wash up. A string of enormous purple blotches stretch down my neck, and I soon find out that they stretch further down my body when I remove my clothes.
After a shower, I lay back in bed, replaying the night in my head. At last, a chance to hit the pause button, but I struggle to digest everything. This deluge of new is overwhelming. New legal guardian, new friends, new boy in my life. Checking my phone doesn't help. My notifications are swarmed by an hourly, all-caps text from Ymir demanding updates, along with a check-in message from Armin. But moments later, my phone buzzes.
A text from Jean at 1:47AM: Thanks for a good time!
I raise my chin and angle the selfie camera towards the mosaic of hickeys he left for me. He texts back a kissing emoji.
I'm brainstorming a response when my phone buzzes again.
It's a text from Eren.
Hey Mikasa. I know things are weird rn and i know we didnt get to talk today but i care a lot about you and im here for you
I stare at the message, feeling paralyzed and sick to my stomach. Every inch of my body feels unclean, but a notification from Jean brings me back to my senses: Night! Wanna hang out tomorrow? Maybe after practice?
A/N: Finally had a chance to update this, now that this weird, fuckin' Zoom University has thankfully drawn to a close. How are you guys holding up in these uncertain times? Wishing everyone all the best, and please stay safe, wherever you all are!
Heh... this chapter has some pretty heavy JeanKasa content... hope it's not *too* off-putting, since most of us are diehard EreMika shippers, but trust meeeeee, I have a plan! :')
Lmk what you guys think in the comments, and I'll try to get the next chapter rolled out ASAP! (Though it *has* been scientifically proven that reviews and feedback significantly speed up the process ;))