Title: food runs
A/N: For the Reluctant Heroes zine! As much as Jean tries to be the voice of reason, he doesn't realize he's just as ridiculous as Sasha and Connie.
Summary: Jean would rather fight a titan, spar with Annie, or even work with Eren than go on another supply run with Connie and Sasha. They were trouble, even more so together, and somehow he was stuck with wrangling them in line. Though, at the rate Sasha stole food, maybe Levi would kill them all and free him from this hell.
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Jean was certain there were worse things to do than go on a supply run. Fighting titans for one, sparring with Annie for another, or even having to deal with Eren at any point. If he had the time and energy, he could list them all out and realize that this wasn't the worst thing in the world.
"So," Connie drawled, dragging out the 'o' as he grinned mischievously. If it weren't for their regulation uniforms, he'd look like any other country boy as he loosely held the reins to their horses. There was a practiced ease as he directed them along the dirt path, their wooden wagon bumping on every pothole along the way. "Still striking out with Mikasa?"
Jean gritted his teeth. That entire list would fall short because this wasn't just an ordinary supply run. No, he had to go on one with Connie and Sasha of all people. It couldn't have been a private date with Mikasa, just the two of them cuddling up as they drove the wagon the long way to their field camp. Or maybe an intellectually stimulating one with Armin, where he rattled off about things that Jean didn't understand, forcing him to blink rapidly as he tried to stay awake. Even a long, heavy silence with Eren as they glared at one another, waiting for the other to break so they could just brawl in the back of the wagon, the horses automatically trotting along the familiar road.
"Obviously," Sasha replied easily, poking her head over the wagon and between them as she teased. Her freshly cut hair gave her face a level of elegance that was ruined the second she opened her mouth. Jean had heard her snoring just minutes ago, but of course she'd wake up just for this, rather than anything practical. "'e's too much of a coward."
He never thought he'd wish he was back in that filthy house in the middle of nowhere, cleaning the damned place to Levi's insane specifications, but here he was. Even the threat of hanging upside down and getting used for target practice was more appealing than the torture he was being forced to endure.
"'e's silent 'cause you're right," Connie chortled. Whenever he and Sasha were next to each other, their country accents just started to take over. If he didn't do something soon, Jean wasn't going to be able to understand either of them.
Actually, maybe that was for the best. If he couldn't understand them, they couldn't irritate him. He could spend the rest of the stupidly long drive pretending they were complimenting him. Connie was praising his quick wits, while Sasha admired his leadership. They were competing over who adored him more. He could last the next day with this fantasy.
Sasha nodded sagely, pretending that she knew more than she did as usual. "No wonder she's goin' afta Eren—"
"She's not into him!" Jean snapped, unable to control himself anymore. Peace of mind wasn't worth this type of slander. He glared at the pair, daring them to say it again.
Of course, they were both morons and didn't take the hint. Connie's smile grew wider. "You sure abou' that?"
He should never have taken the bait, but it was too late for regrets. Squaring his shoulders, Jean prepared himself for war. "Of course I am! Have you seen the way she looks at him? She's practically his babysitter."
Sasha snorted. Pulling a potato out from god-knows-where, she took a bite. If she put half as much effort into her duties as she did into smuggling food, Jean wouldn't even need to be on this trip. "Ha' 'ou see' 'er?"
"For god's sake, eat or talk, don't do both." Jean wrinkled his nose. Sasha was a great fighter, strong, courageous, and unconventional. She'd saved his skin more than a few times and he probably wouldn't be here without her.
He still couldn't help but wish someone else, anyone else, had survived from their year instead of her. Like Marco.
Jean bit his cheek, trying not to get overwhelmed by the memory. Good, sweet Marco. Understanding Marco. Silent Marco.
"Ah, 'll 'o I'," Sasha mumbled, taking another bite and clearly abandoning whatever she was trying to say.
God, he wished Marco was here.
"Sasha, where'd you get that potato?" Connie asked, raising a brow as he looked over his shoulder. "They didn't give us any for breakfast this morning."
Actually, now that he mentioned it, it was extremely odd. Jean shifted his body so he could look at Sasha properly. Her eyes widened as they stared at her, but despite whatever fear she must have felt, she kept chewing the potato.
There was a second one in her other hand and Jean had a sinking feeling about it. The garrison had provided them with breakfast and lunch before they'd left and—
"Sasha," Jean growled, baring his teeth. "Are you eating our lunch?"
Connie's jaw dropped. "Sasha! Are you kidding me?"
"'s no' o' 'ch," she mumbled back, eating faster.
Jean lunged forward, grabbing the half-eaten potato. It was disgusting and he didn't want it, but at this point, the principle of the matter was important and hell if he was going to let Sasha have another bite of his lunch. "Do you always think with your stomach?"
"I can't believe you'd do that!" Connie looped the reins around one hand, leaning back to grab the other potato. It was probably the most dangerous, haphazard driving they'd ever done and Jean prayed that the road was straight and empty enough that the horses could just trot on. "Why are you like this?"
Sasha swallowed, jumping back before Connie could take his potato. It was actually a little impressive how she kept her balance as they hit another pothole, but the potato flew out of her hand and onto the wooden floor with a soft thud. Swallowing, she crouched defensively over it and snarled, "It's not your lunch."
"The hell it isn't!" Connie shouted, pointing at the potato.
"It isn't!" she argued, pointing at the corner behind her. Jean took his eyes off her for a moment to consider the evidence. Three small tiffins sat in the back of the wagon, wrapped in blue and white checkered cloth. They looked untouched. "I didn't open any of 'em!"
"That's…good…" Jean trailed off, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The tiffins were closed. Sasha had eaten two potatoes. They didn't have any for breakfast. "Where did you get them then?" he asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
Sasha looked at them. They stared at each other for a long moment. The horses trotted along, the wagon bouncing slightly on the bumpy road. A breeze drifted by, whistling through the long grasses. Chirping birds flew overhead.
Knowing he'd regret it, Jean looked at the supply bags. Sasha immediately dived to grab her potato, stuffing it into her mouth like a chipmunk at the same moment. Jean spotted an open one, the bag's mouth just wide enough for him to make out the potatoes hidden inside. His jaw dropped. "Did you steal our supplies?"
Connie stopped pretending he was driving the wagon, leaving the horses to the forces of nature. Not that Jean cared anymore; there was no point in worrying about their destination if they were going to be murdered when they got there. Connie scrambled over the side, a madman, shouting, "Sasha! YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST EATEN OUR LUNCHES!"
"THEN YOU'D GET MAD AT ME," she yelled back, potato in her mouth. She looked like a rabid squirrel now, body crouched and ready to spring. Jean was convinced she was part animal; it was the only explanation. If Eren could be half-titan, then Sasha was definitely half-something. Maybe she'd learn to transform one day and make herself useful.
"IT'S BETTER THAN LEVI GETTING MAD AT US!" Connie grabbed the potato.
She clamped down on it hard, trying to chew and keep it in place at the same time.
A small tug-of-war broke out and Jean buried his face in his hands. "Sasha, why are you such a goddamn pig? CAN'T YOU DO THIS WHEN WE'RE BACK AT THE BARRACKS?"
"How does that help?" Connie growled, his feet digging into the wooden planks as he tried to pull the potato free.
Sasha grunted something unintelligible.
"Levi wouldn't blame us then," Jean moaned, climbing onto the wagon himself. He quickly tightened the bag's opening, sealing it back up. Whatever happened next, Sasha wasn't getting any more.
"He still would. He'd just punish everyone else too," Connie rightly pointed out.
It was what happened the last time Sasha had stolen the meat. Jean glared at her. "Why are you such a pig?"
Connie managed to yank the potato away and fell backward, landing flat on his back.
Sasha barked, "You already said that!"
"It's still true!" Jean pointed at the driver's bench. "You're sitting up front, we can't trust you here."
"Why did we ever trust her in the first place?" Connie rubbed his head as he sat up. Staring at the drool-covered, half-chewed potato, he grimaced and tossed it off the cart.
Sasha almost leaped after it. Jean wasn't sure if it was common sense or the next pothole that stopped her from actually doing so. He really, really hoped it was the former. Broken, she turned on Jean and howled, "Mikasa hates you and you're just taking it out on me!"
Jean stiffened. "She doesn't hate me!"
"That was a low blow," Connie muttered, rubbing his hands on his pants.
"She doesn't like you," Sasha countered, her gaze flickering between him and the potato bag. Even now, she was still thinking with her stomach. She was hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
Jean crossed his arms and growled, "No one likes you. You keep eating everything!"
Connie looked back and forth between the two. He frowned. "You know, I noticed it on the way here, but how come I don't have a thing?"
It was a strange enough question that they ended their eye-war and turned to him. At the same time, they asked, "What?"
"A thing," Connie repeated, getting up now. Holding up his hand, he started ticking off his fingers. "Jean's a horse-face with a broken heart," Jean yelped, "Sasha's a wild animal," Sasha flinched, "Armen's smart, Eren's an idiot, Mikasa's bad-ass, Historia's a princess, and then there's me. I don't have anything."
"Oh. Uh." Jean rubbed his neck awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to say about that. It wasn't like Connie was wrong. Compared to the rest of their class, he was actually kind of bland. "You're…nice? Normal?" Processing the list properly now, he glowered. "And why were almost all of those things bad?"
"You're…friendly?" Sasha tried, edging closer to the bags again. Jean glared at her and she bared her teeth.
"What, am I too boring?" Connie gripped his shirt, suffering some sort of existential crisis that Jean thought was frankly too little, too late, and maybe just a little stupid. "Don't you guys know me well enough for something? Some sort of nickname? Insult?"
"Do you really want us to insult you?" Sasha muttered, point-blank.
"Of course we have a nickname or something like that!" Jean spoke louder, trying to drown out her voice. Their friend was having a mental breakdown over his personality. He had lived long enough to know where that could go. "You're not boring at all, right Sasha?"
Sasha shrugged noncommittally. He should have known better than to rely on her. She couldn't even lie to save herself from punishment, why would he expect better here?
"You're…short?" Jean guessed, running a hand through his hair. "And…annoying?" The cart bumped and he quickly added, "And really good at driving? You're the only reason we got there so fast."
Connie frowned, not looking entirely satisfied. But he didn't look as put out as he did earlier. Jean took that as progress.
"How about we figure something out? While you, you know, drive?" Jean gestured at their driverless horses, who were starting to veer off the path and into the fields. Sure, there weren't any titans here, but he didn't want to explain to Levi why their two-day trip took three days.
"Sure. Fine." Connie pursed his lips but vaulted back into his seat.
Jean sighed with relief, then whirled around and slapped Sasha's hand as she reached into another bag. "And you're sitting with him," he snapped.
She hissed but complied. He sighed with relief as they both settled into the front seat. Sure, the wagon wasn't the most comfortable spot, but he could make do. Now that they were away from him—
"So," Sasha drawled, vengeance on her lips. "About Mikasa…."
—and they were together. And the only thing worse than dealing with Sasha or Connie alone was dealing with them jointly.
Jean groaned.
Maybe he should steal some food too and ensure Levi actually killed them.