IX
"Look at that crappy weather outside. The snow will turn into slush now," Jean grunted, peering through the windows to watch the curtain of rain obscuring the streets.
He walked back to the counter, emptying his tray from a few mugs. The last customers had left the 104th Squad, braving the storm on the brink of raging outside. He removed his black apron, throwing it over his shoulder with flourish. It fell directly on Marco's head, but Jean was already leaning on the counter, stifling a groan.
"I hate the last shift. We have to clean and wash the dishes and then go back when it's dark."
"Don't complain, Jean. I'm always the one cleaning and doing the dishes in the end. Besides, we're lucky we have a well-paid job in our state."
"You talking about us being ghouls?"
Marco nodded, his face falling. "What else would I be talking about?"
Jean looked up, frowning at seeing his crestfallen expression. After Eren, Marco was the newest addition. They had found him in the 8th Ward, shivering in the snow that had accumulated on his bony frame. He said them, but it was more him alone. He had been the only one present, the only one to graze his skin turned blue by the cold, the only one whose hand had been gripped before he could remove more of the snow. The only one who had been stabbed by these dark, lifeless eyes.
"Our state isn't an argument. Your koukaku is awesome."
"My koukaku, as you say it, shouldn't exist. I shouldn't—"
"Don't."
Jean had sprung on his feet, his hands wrapped around Marco's, uncaring that they were wet from water and soap. He stared at him intently, squeezing his hands when Marco's eyes dared to stray away from his gaze. Jean leaned even closer until their noses were mere inches away. His breath ghosted over the dark-haired man's countenance.
"Don't ever say that. Don't ever think that."
Jean fell silent, letting the words register. Oh, how he would love those words to sink in Marco's mind and stay there forever. Those precious words never stayed, swept away by the past and gnawed by the shame of being a ghoul. Self-conscious, Jean took a step back, but Marco held onto his hand, a dark blush creeping on his cheeks.
"Thank you, Jean. You're so kind."
"If you think I'm kind then you're out of this world," Jean chuckled but then sobered. "And what I said wasn't kindness. It was honesty."
Marco smiled, then avoided his eyes. "If you stay here then I'll make you do the dishes." Jean slipped away immediately, making him laugh. "I'm glad you're better."
"Better? I wasn't wrong to begin with."
"But, uhm, Eren told me you were avoiding me."
A vein twitched on Jean's forehead. "That idiot... Can't he mind his own business?"
"He didn't mean any wrong. He said you needed time to think. I was ready to give you space, but now that you look better, I'm glad we can think together now. Does that make sense?"
Jean nodded. Anything coming out of Marco's mouth made sense, somehow. He watched him washing the dishes, rubbing the coffee stains from the rims, scrubbing away strawberry jelly from plates and wiping them dry afterwards. While it could look like a mere task to some, to Jean it was mesmerising. Marco's forehead was creased with lines in concentration, almost pouting at the basin.
"Can I walk you home tonight?"
Marco looked up, surprised. "Why are you asking me? You do it even when I don't want you to."
"I have a bad feeling."
He smiled at him, "Don't worry about Colossus or Mademoiselle. I have your back."
Jean didn't know if he should be relieved or even more concerned. Marco was too selfless for his own good sometimes. It looked like he was born to spread happiness and he, Jean, was one of the many lucky receivers of his generosity. He had been the one to find him, on that faithful night, and hold him close. He had thought Marco had been lucky to be found before he could freeze to death, but as time progressed, the positions switched. Jean was the one infinitely lucky.
While Marco finished cleaning, Jean checked the employees' room and took their coats. When he came back the cafe, the mugs had been placed on the shelves and the basin, emptied. After one last eye sweep, the two of them turned off the lights and closed the 104th Squad. The rain had decreased to a drizzle sprinkling on their skin. Marco shivered in his coat, seeking warmth as he snaked his hands in his pockets. He burrowed his head in the back of his hood, his cheeks flushing as they were bitten by the crisp air.
"Do you want to eat with me tonight?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I already have something planned."
He tried not to frown. "Ah. Well, you can come by at my house anytime you like."
Marco beamed, nodding, but he didn't elaborate about this thing he had planned. Jean tried not to give in to curiosity, but it was like fighting gravity. Doubts were sprouting like unwanted dandelions in his mind. His imagination was reeling.
"Jean, there's a sushi shop opening in Ikebukuro next week. Do you want to come with me?"
He almost choked in his own spit. He had heard about it too, something about its name being quite original, but he had never thought Marco would invite him personally. Perhaps he was saying it only because he couldn't make it tonight, or perhaps — and this option was most likely than the other — it was Marco's goodwill speaking. In either way, Jean's blood was heating up at the prospect of being with him.
"Sure. That'd be awesome."
His voice was nonchalant, but he felt like a walking furnace about to explode. He might have imagined it, but Marco's blush was spreading up to the galaxy of freckles dotting his face.
"Great," Marco whispered. "Great."
Jean could've closed the distance separating them in a heartbeat if a scream hadn't ripped the atmosphere. Instead, both of them startled, their head snapping towards the direction of the sound. Without consultation yet in perfect synchronicity, they darted off, bracing themselves for the worst. Jean could feel his bikaku already unfurling at the base of his coccyx, the scorpion-like tail extending.
"Hold on," Marco shouted, "what if we scare him off with our kagune?"
"I'd say he'd prefer dealing with our kagune than the kagune of the one about to eat him."
The freckled man had no answer but to nod jerkily. They kept on running until they had strayed far from the principal arteries to alleys like the ones where Jean had found Marco. They didn't have to search for long, for another roar erupted on their right. Jean's reflexes kicked in as he caught a gigantic figure hurtling towards them. He threw himself on Marco as it collided on the building behind them, then collapsing on the ground with a heavy thud. He caught a glimpse of a viridian glow and did a double take. Eren was half buried under a pile of bricks falling from the building, his rinkaku twitching. Marco disentangled himself from underneath him and rushed to him.
"Eren, oh goodness, Eren, can you hear me?"
The young man jolted when Marco's hand shook him lightly by the shoulders. His eyes opened, glazing over them, the specks of green clouding the blue of his irises. He pushed Marco away more out of instinct rather than in realisation of who was holding him.
"Get off me," he slurred, toppling back on the ground. "I can walk by myself..."
"Leave him," Jean grumbled as he pulled Marco away. "Not worth the pain."
His eyes caught a flash on the side, setting his senses afire. He brought his bikaku up, meeting a modified ukaku belonging to— Jean's eyes widened as their eyes locked. The eyes of the investigator nicknamed Humanity's Strongest, for he was the best mankind could offer as resistance against the ghouls. The eyes of the Ghoul Slayer. Jean startled as Levi attacked, the feathery crystals bombarding his bikaku. He winced as he felt them sinking in his kagune, but he swung his tail back at the Dove.
"Marco, get that useless scumbag out of here," he yelled over his shoulder, his eyes never straying away from Levi.
He didn't hear his answer as something rammed on his side. White exploded beneath his closed eyelids, the pain shooting across his sternum. He felt himself flying across the air, then his back hit a flat surface. He was falling again. His limbs were growing cold. His bikaku was shrivelling on itself, convulsing. Before he realised it, the world was coming to an end, stilling, freezing. The colours were muddled together and the shapes, bleary as he cracked his eyes open. A silhouette hovered above him, leaning down to embrace him in warm arms.
"Jean, Jean," someone was calling him.
He felt himself coming back to life, but his blood was oozing out from him. Marco's freckles stood in a stark contrast against his wan skin. The droplets caught in his eyelashes glimmered. The corners of his lips twitched up even if his life was drained from him.
"Oh, what have we here?"
The voice belonged to another Dove, a woman, this time, with sparkling eyes behind thick-framed glasses riveted on them. Behind her, he could see a blizzard of movements and a symphony of noises. Marco's arms, wrapped around him like a protective cocoon, were unyielding.
"We heard the scream. We wanted to help."
"Take that gangly guy back to CCG Headquarters. Ask for Erwin. Tell them Hange let you in."
"But what about...?" Marco motioned to Jean.
"Oh, a bikaku user! How's fast his regeneration?"
It occurred in the back of his mind that he was a ghoul and that he had an healing factor thrice as fast as a human's. He could already feel his flesh mending, growing out and twisting as the veins threaded back together. The blood was rushing back to his lungs, to his heart, but also to his cheeks. The arms tugging him closer smelled of home.
"Pretty fast, miss. We'll leave as soon as he's on his feet."
"Oh, but we have a rinkaku user here and he'd be a marvellous trump card."
"There's no way I'm sending him to fight. It's your battle, not ours."
The Dove, Hange, smiled. Jean shuddered as her teeth caught the light. She was human, fair enough, but her smile was unnerving. In the rain, and from the view he had as he laid on the ground, she was a giant. She put her hands on her hips, her grin broadening.
"I can arrest you two for being ghouls, but I'd rather not do that. You should do as I say, Mr...?"
"Jean," he croaked out his name, reluctantly pushing Marco's arms away. "My name's Jean."
"Jean," she repeated. "From your bikaku here, you are the Scorpion."
He stilled. "I'm in your files?"
"Oh, but every ghoul we encounter is our files. I reckon you," she addressed to Marco, "are a koukaku user. We always catch sight of the Scorpion with another ghoul, the Shredder."
Marco's hand snaked by his side, fingers intertwining with his. Jean squeezed it and if he could've, he would've hugged him tight against his chest. He remembered how he had leaned down and embraced him, the heavy layer of snow separating them prickling his skin. He had remained silent, yet his hand had never stopped rubbing soothing circles on his back. And slowly, ever so slowly, he had felt a pointy edge poking against his ribs. He hadn't dared to look down, but rather had whispered against the blueish ear how beautiful he was.
"Marco, we should listen to her. Eren can't do anything on his own, we know that."
Hange perked up, chirping, "Come on then, Scorpion."
He flashed a smile at Marco, indicating a groggy Eren with his head, before following the Dove. Levi was like a machine, his slashes precise and deep, yet the ghoul's regeneration was almost instantaneous. The ghoul was using two of her tentacles to counter the attacks and the other two on the offensive. If it had been any other investigator, he would've been overwhelmed, but Levi was holding his end. Jean gasped, recognising the ghoul he had seen with Marco, feasting in Ward 2, the other day. He avoided a tentacle by an inch, bringing his bikaku up in defence. So the ghoul had noticed him as well.
"Scorpion," she spat, her eyes darting from him to Levi back and forth.
"Mademoiselle," he replied evenly. "Didn't think you'd fancy an evening walk."
"Didn't think you'd fancy one without your puppy."
Jean's fists clenched. Beside him, Levi was sprinting away, Hange taking his place. Jean had no doubts that the woman could fight, but he somehow trusted Levi more. Hange looked more reckless with the mad grin etched on her face.
"Well, well, well, who's the lady who misbehaved?"
"You're one to talk," the ghoul snorted. "And your friend's too late."
Hange's grin disappeared. Jean's blood froze. He felt like interfering in the matters of the CCG, which was something he did not like at all. He had heard about the ghoul in the 104th Squad; Pixis had nicknamed her Mademoiselle, which had stayed. She was ruthless, toying with her prey before killing her, and a formidable foe. He would've backed away if Hange hadn't slapped a hand between his shoulders blades, startling him.
"Let's make a deal, Scorpion. You help me kick her ass and I don't disclose anything to the CCG."
He remembered how he had sworn to Marco he would protect him. "Deal."
They turned to face the female ghoul, eyes narrowing. Two pair of eyes bore into another, one to avenge, one to protect and the last one, veiled with mystery, a smile peeking on her lips.
Marco, I love you.
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