Welcome to Chapter 2 Part B of Drunk on You.
Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin, nor do I own any of the characters featured in this work of fiction. Neither my role-play partner nor I are gaining any sort of profit from this.
Warning: May contain inappropriate language, sexual themes, alcohol usage, mentions of violence, potentially triggering subjects, and very very bad puns. Rating may be subject to change in the future.
Chapter 2 Part B has been beta-read. If any further errors or mistakes are noticed, please point them out in a review.
Sunday, the 27th of October.
Marco woke up several times throughout the night, having to toss and turn for a while before he was able to fall back asleep. He chalked it up to the excitement once he woke up for the final time that morning. It was still a little too early to be up and about, and he didn't exactly feel like bothering Jean, so he stayed in bed and day-dreamed about nothing in particular.
His thoughts quickly wandered to the night before, namely Krista when she smiled and laughed. Now that he really thought about it, most of those smiles had been directed at Yumir. Well, girls latched onto each other pretty quickly. He shrugged it off and his thoughts drifted to Jean. He'd ignored Marco for the first part of the date... Because of that moment they'd had? Well, no. It wasn't exactly a "moment". A mistake, maybe. Nothing had happened, but he couldn't help but be embarrassed for Jean. He smothered his face with his pillow. Jeez, that'd been awful! He just felt so bad for Jean, tripping over his pants like that. He was just glad he'd been there, otherwise Jean probably would've gone headfirst into the door. It definitely could've been a lot worse.
As the sun slowly poured into the room, leaking through the wooden blinds, Jean became increasingly aware of the drool, trailing down his cheek. His eyes opened with the slowness that came from being dragged out of a warm and cozy dream and punted back into the reality. His retinas were on fire thanks to the sun. Jean leaned up from his disheveled bed and untangled the sheets that were currently wrapped around his legs in intricate knots. Okay, so sleeping without a pillow might have been a really bad idea, seeing as Jean was now pulling at the stiff muscles around his shoulders and neck, but procrastination always seems like a good idea when it's first thought of. He pressed his head to the side a little, coercing a couple of 'snap!'s to come from his neck and spine. His eyes squinted when he turned his attention towards the source of light in his room. It felt a little bit strange, seeing the tall buildings and rushing cars and bustling herds of people instead of his usual scenery of houses with broken windows and chipping paint and gangs of thugs loitering around the gas station. Jean made great effort to swing his legs off one side of his mattress and lift off from the coziness of his bed. He'd get dressed later, for now, food and toilet were top priority, he decided as he exited his room and headed towards the shared bathroom.
Before long, Marco started to hear signs of life coming from the hallway and bathroom. He got up and slid his feet into his slippers, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. Seemed like a good time to get up and make breakfast. He left his room and entered the kitchen, looking through the cupboards and fridge for the ingredients he'd need. Pancakes or eggs, bacon and toast? He paused, hands on the counter, shoulders somewhat hunched. He eventually gave up and went to knock on the bathroom door. "Hey, pancakes or eggs, bacon and toast? Or all of the above, that's cool too."
Jean stared at his face blankly in the mirror for nearly five minutes. With his hair sticking up in odd ways and toothbrush hanging from his mouth, a knock came from the door, a voice following soon after. He wiped the toothpaste from the edges of his mouth, opened the door, and gave Marco the same blank stare he had just previously given to his reflection in the mirror. It took him a little while to process what Marco had asked him, and as he did so, he squinted at the brown-haired boy in front of him. "All of the above." He stated simply and closed the door, once again returning to the daily duty of freshening his face and refine his best features. Brush teeth, wash face, brush hair, shave, take a shower, you know, the normal routine. Except shower. The shower could wait until later. It looked like Seattle was going to have a rare day of sunshine in Autumn, and Jean really didn't want to take a shower just so he could get all sweaty and gross again.
Marco nodded after the silence was broken and immediately returned to the kitchen. "Someone's chipper in the morning," he mumbled with a quick roll of his eyes. He shrugged and returned his thoughts to the task at hand. All of the above. He could start on the pancakes and eggs at once, then make the toast and bacon. Shit, he'd forgotten to ask what Jean liked on his toast. He'd just put butter and jam on the table, it didn't matter.
Once a stack of pancakes were done and on a plate and the eggs were already on both Marco and Jean's plates, he stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment. He could make the bacon in the microwave and save having to wash another pan, or he could cook it on the stove and watch it cook. Decisions, decisions! In the end, he made it on the stove. Once everything was finished, he had made four pieces of toast, six slices of bacon, six pancakes, and five eggs. That should be enough. He wasn't entirely sure how much Jean could eat, but he hoped they wouldn't have leftovers.
Jean wiped his face free of any remaining droplets of water, discarded the wash cloth on the sink, and left the bathroom. He felt refreshed now, and he felt as though his brain actually worked. Of course, his brain doesn't work without food and his stomach was currently throwing a fit over the scents wafting through the apartment. He took a couple of sniffs, sighed, and thought it might be a good idea to set the table, so that Marco didn't have to do all of the work. "So uh, where do you keep the plates and stuff?" Jean asked. He'd only lived here for a day, so you couldn't really blame him for not knowing where the dishes where stored and what not. He really was pretty useless right now, but hopefully, in the future, he'd be able to split the household work evenly with Marco. He was never good at that whole cooperating thing, which was why he'd never even tried to have a room mate before.
Marco had started to get cups and silverware out when Jean joined him, and he couldn't say he wasn't glad to have some help! "In the top cupboard left of the stove. Cups are on the opposite side, for future reference." He smiled and set the silverware and cups on the table, pausing to remember where he'd left the napkins. It'd been a while since he'd used them... Last time he'd had company, maybe? And not roommate-searching company, either. Oh well, it was just breakfast. Napkins weren't a necessity, though they would be greatly appreciated. "Just fill up your plate I guess. Probably could've saved doing a whole lot of dishes easily, but I didn't think ahead. In my defense, it's early."
"Thanks..." Jean mumbled, and sat down. He began loading his plate with exactly half of what had been put on the table. He placed a slab of butter between each of his pancakes, waiting for the heat to melt them so they could soak into the pancakes, which looked exquisitely fluffy and perfect to Jean. He stared at the options laid before him. Jam, or butter. He squinted back and forth between the two items. "It's too fucking early for this." He voiced while slathering both butter and jam on to each of his toast pieces. He bit into one and put it down before bathing his pancakes in what looked to be gallons of syrup. A small grin budged at Jean's lips when he cut a chunk of his pancakes off and chewed it slowly, savoring the overly sweet taste.
Marco filled his plate as well and set it on the table, going back into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk. The gears in his head turned slowly, weighing his options. He could assume Jean wanted milk instead of juice, or he could do the polite thing and ask. The answer seemed kind of obvious, but he'd ask anyway. "Hey, milk or juice?
Jean stared at his pancakes then turned his thoughtless gaze towards Marco when asked that question. "...Umm... Juuic- nope. Milk. Milk is good." He thought briefly about mixing the two together, but he didn't even know what kind of juice it was, so the outcome was unlikely to be pleasant. Jean stuffed another bite of toast into his mouth then sat patiently at the table. He felt his brain beginning to work and he remembered that the polite thing to do would be to wait until Marco sat down to eat with him. He felt a little embarrassed at how inconsiderate he could be when he woke up in the morning. Jean crossed one arm over his waist and prodded at the bruises on his right hip. He felt a little nervous. Wasn't he getting a bit too comfortable with this guy, considering he'd only known Marco for a little over a week now?
Marco nodded and poured Jean's glass, put the milk back in the fridge, and set the glasses on the table, taking his seat across from Jean with a quiet sigh. "I forgot to ask if you wanted your eggs scrambled or not, so I just kinda went with scrambled. Hope that's okay." He rubbed his eyes and covered his mouth as he yawned, because even though he'd been awake for several hours, he hadn't fully woken up much at all during that time. He should start going on runs in the mornings to help him wake up quicker.
Jean smiled and replied "Nah it's cool, I like eggs so I'll eat them regardless of whatever form they come in." He took a bit of the eggs, just to test them out. They were pretty damn good, but hell, he was basically saying that about everything Marco made. "Ah, except omelets. For some reason, they have a weird texture in my opinion. They're tolerable if there are tomatoes in them though," Jean added, not that he really needed to but early morning conversation isn't so bad. He finished off his first piece of toast, took a sip of milk, and looked up at Marco. "So, we're um, picking up the fliers today, right? Which area's did you place them in and what time should we leave?"
"I love omelets but I'm not that great at making them..." Marco chose jelly for his bread and began to eat, stopping to think about Jean's question. He wasn't completely sure where he'd put up the fliers, but he would be okay with going around the city and looking. "I'm not 100% sure where I left all of them, and I guess I'd be okay with leaving whenever you're ready. But I do need to shower and brush my teeth, so not... Right away? I'm pretty sure I put some up in front of and near the Starbucks near the convention center though."
Jean's eyes widened and his jaw slacked open a little bit. He played it off, though, by shoveling a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He swallowed and messed around with his eggs. "So... do you at least know how many you put up? Otherwise I have this feeling that this will turn into a wild goose-chase." He took another bite of his eggs. "Also, should we split up the work or go together?"
"I didn't keep track. That was a bad idea, wasn't it? I think we should team up because I don't want you to be totally lost and confused or whatever. I should've kept track. I kinda feel stupid now. Bummer." Marco laughed awkwardly, his eyebrows furrowed, head partially resting in one hand. He'd completely forgotten most of the areas, aside from the convention center area. "Where did you pick your flier up, do you remember?"
"I picked it up along Martin Luther way, god only knows why you put one down there." Jean hoped he didn't sound rude or anything, but you'd have to be pretty naive to put fliers up in such a shady part of town. He thought back to the time he lived there. He'd only seen two other fliers, one was for a lost bag of heroin needles, the other was just a prank flier about some guy missing his cat, and according to the picture provided, he was actually missing a drunk guy wearing a headband with cat ears and whiskers poorly scribbled over his stubbled face. Jean finished the last of his eggs and started on his last piece of toast. "I only saw one flier down there though, and I picked it up, so I'm pretty sure we can search anywhere besides that any area."
"Oh yeah, I kinda remember taking the bus down that way. Forget which bus, but I do know that I didn't want to stay in that part of town longer the a handful of minutes. Is it possible to track fees on an Orca card? I'm pretty new to that whole system." Marco picked at his food, staring down at his plate absently. He'd eaten a good deal of his eggs and a little under half of his pancakes, but he hadn't touched his toast yet. As weird as it was, he liked to eat the toast last, when it was getting cold. He didn't like the crust though. "So you used to live there? Isn't that kinda considered the bad part of town?"
Jean stabbed at what was left on his plate with his fork. He speared a of section pancakes, sliced through the three fluffy layers of goodness, and stuffed them into his mouth. He chewed on them while he thought and replied, "I'm not sure if you can or not. I know there's a website for it, so maybe you can see a list of transactions on there? I've never used it though." He finished off his pancakes, and downed it all with the last bit of his milk. Jean coughed a little bit when Marco asked that question. He chuckled nervously. "Yeah. I guess that's what it is. I mean, it's got the highest crime rate in Seattle, a lot of shady back-door deals go down around those parts, records aren't kept there, so I guess you could uh, call it 'the bad part of town'." Jean's fingertips dug into the bruise on his hip and his eyes shifted around the dining area as he spoke.
"Maybe I'll look that website up in a bit. So were you living there because of money, or what? I don't mean to be nosy or anything, but you don't look like a bad guy, so it kinda has to point to money troubles, doesn't it? Be honest, how much do you make on payday?" Marco turned his attention completely towards Jean after he'd finished off what he could of his own meal and drink. His eyebrows were raised, though his expression was anything but impatient. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I need to know if you'll have enough for rent."
"I get about 1100 a month but when you add in taxes and paying back loans and debts, I only get like 500 a month. It's cool though, I know a couple of people that I can do rag-tag jobs for if I need a bit of extra money for rent and what not." Jean stood up. It was still a couple of hours before noon and they should probably head at soon. Jean grabbed his plate, asked Marco if he was done with his, and stalked into the kitchen, plates, stacked in one hand, cups in the other. He wasn't really comfortable with doing the dishes here yet, so he settled for rinsing off the plates and stacking them in the sink. "Um, about your earlier question though... I was down there because, sure, the rent was super cheap, but because they let you rent an apartment without signing a lease or anything like that."
Marco stood up to help load the dishwasher, taking the plates from the sink and arranging them in a way where everything fit comfortably. "Oh. Well you don't have to talk about that if you don't want to, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. Loans, though? Who do you owe and for what? Nothing illegal, I hope? Because that kinda falls under the no convicted criminals thing on the flier. Not going to kick you out or anything, that'd be harsh. But I would be pretty disappointed, if that even matters." He shrugged, his fingers drumming quietly against the counter top each time he had to wait for a dish. Jean definitely did not seem like the bad guy type to him, or at least the intentionally bad guy type, so the loans had to be for something else. If crossing his fingers would help make the outcome of that situation positive, he would cross his fingers and toes.
Jean was half-tempted to trick Marco into thinking he was a drug-lord or something, but that'd be a bit too cruel so he settled for telling the truth. "Nah, It was mostly student-loans from college. Tuition was expensive and I didn't have any scholarships that I fit the requirements for so I pulled out a couple of loans." He watched as Marco filled the dishwasher and stared the side of his face. God damn those freckles looked good on him. "Plus I broke a couple of bones a few months ago, had to get metal implants, and I didn't have medical insurance so, bam, more loans, more debts." Jean could have added a sarcastic remark or two about the economy and what-not, but why do that when you can stare at the subtle contours of your new roommate's face?
Marco finished loading the dishwasher not too long after Jean finished rinsing the plates. He put a small capsule inside the door of the machine and shut it, turning the dial to start it. He changed the label on the dishwasher to "clean" and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at Jean, his eyebrows raised. "Why are you looking at me like that? S'there something on my face?" His cheeks reddened a little at the attention, his usual crooked grin on his face. He hadn't pegged Jean for that type of guy, but he had never been too good with noticing sexualities. It really just didn't matter unless it involved him, and he liked it that way.
Jean's eyes snapped away from his previous spot of focus and he gave Marco a typical 'dear-caught-in-headlights' look. He cleared his throat, felt his eyebrows raising and said "Um, just some uh, freckles. I was just looking at them." A nervous laugh rose from his throat and he nearly choked on it before letting it pass his lips. "N-" Jean cleared his throat again and pressed his fingertips into the bruised blotches of skin on his hips. "Nothing wrong with looking at freckles. Or faces. It's normal." He said definitively and turned his back on the scene, heading towards his room so he could put a shirt and possibly some pants on, his fingers poking at the bruises all the while.
Marco's crooked grin grew considerably, his cheeks vivid with color. Jean was a total dork and he didn't even know it. Or maybe he knew it and he just didn't want to realize it? Jeez, as if he wasn't cute enough already. In a grown-man type of way. He wiped his hands off on a towel and got on with his morning, going into the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth before Jean decided to shower, if he was still going to at all. He returned to his room and picked out his outfit for the day, laying the shirt and pants neatly across his already made bed. Maybe he should ask...
Jean shuffled through the piles of random clothes in each drawer of his dresser. The weather report said it was likely to rain today, so he wondered if he should dress for it, or wear whatever he was comfortable with. Being slightly uncomfortable isn't as bad as being cold and wet, so Jean tossed a pair of jeans onto his bed and put his favorite pair of shorts back into one of the drawers. Any shirt would do, so Jean selected the first shirt he saw, threw it onto his bed, and pulled his pants up onto his legs, securing it in place with a belt.
Marco, still in his pajamas, went back into the hall and lightly knocked on Jean's door, not waiting before speaking. "Hey, are you going to shower? I was thinking about it, but I wanted to know if you'd like to go first or not." He waited, his knuckles resting against the cool wood. He always showered in the mornings, mostly because he still had a little more waking up to do, even after breakfast. He never felt completely awake until he'd finished his morning routine. He wasn't moody really, but he just wasn't as responsive and aware as he usually was. Of course, he'd made an effort to not seem too groggy for Jean's sake. It was their first morning together after all, and Marco wouldn't want to give Jean a bad impression.
Jean picked up his shirt and was working on locating which hole belonged to which appendage when Marco knocked on his door. He opened the door and shrugged his head into the correct hole. "You know, I usually take showers later in the day, like after work, so it makes sense to me if we have a schedule where you take showers in the morning and I take them in the evening." He suggested as he put his arm into the short sleeves of his T-shirt. He let the rest of the shirt fall into place on his torso and he leaned against the door frame of his bedroom, waiting for Marco's opinion.
Marco shifted from foot to foot until Jean answered the door, and boy was he a little surprised. He looked up, though his eyes lingered on purple marks on Jean's hips before the shirt covered them. He frowned, head tilted slightly. "Yeah that sounds nice. Guess I'll go hop in now then. Also I don't mean to pry but... Where'd you get those marks? Do they hurt? How old are they?"
Jean stared at Marco, confused as to which marks he was referring to. When he remembered the blotches on his hips, Jean's face flushed and his jaw hung a bit slack. "Oh. Um, they're from yesterday, before the dinner thing. They don't hurt, or anything..." He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his abdomen. With Jean's thoughts focused on the bruises, he couldn't help but subconsciously want to dig his fingers into them. Marco was looking at him though, and it might look a bit weird. Jean cleared his throat again and said "So uh, sweet, new shower schedule." He turned back into his room and shut the door gently before leaning against it and sighing.
Marco's face flushed in embarrassment, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He avoided eye contact and chuckled, though he didn't really find it amusing. "Yeah, sorry about that. Good that they don't hurt though! Guess I'll go shower." The door shut before he could unroot his feet from the carpet. In fact, it took several long seconds before he eventually hurried into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the long, long day ahead of him. He almost wished he hadn't noticed the marks at all, but at the same time he supposed it reminded him not to underestimate his own strength. He doubted he would be doing anymore hip-grabbing with Jean though, so he didn't feel as if it mattered so much. He stepped into the shower and quickly went through his routine, and before long he stepped back out and securely wrapped a towel around his waist. He picked up his soiled clothes and peeked his head out of a crack in the open door, checking to see if the coast was clear. He quickly shuffled into his room and shut the door behind him, exhaling quietly in relief. He would definitely try hard to avoid any situations that might make Jean feel awkward, starting with bringing his clothes in the bathroom with him when he showered. Just in case.
Jean covered his face with his hands in shame and let out another deep sigh. He would have liked to have kept them hidden, but it's difficult to do that when you completely forget about them. Nothing could be done about it now, so Jean continued getting ready for the day they had before them. He mussed with his hair for several minutes, coaxing the out-of-place hairs back into their rightful spots, before grabbing his phone and his wallet. Jean stepped out of his room and plopped down on the couch in the living room, checking his phone as he waited for Marco to say he was ready to go. He had a couple new messages, one of which was from Yumir, advising him that the halibut from the Georgian tastes terrible as leftovers. He rolled his eyes and flipped his phone closed, not even bothering to reply to her.
Marco quickly dried off and got dressed, the collar of his T-shirt mussing up his still damp hair as he tugged it over his head. He dried his hair off and wiped away the stray droplets on his neck, then tossed his towel in the hamper. He'd used it several times already, so he figured it was time to switch out. He slipped a pair of tennis shoes on after his socks and joined Jean in the living room. "Oh, I didn't think to check the weather for today. Looks like it'll be a good day, but you can never tell..." He parted the blind slats and looked up at the sky. It was a little gray, but it didn't look like it would rain much. "Seems like we'll be good. Looks cold though. We should probably bring jackets."
Jean contemplated which jacket he could wear before heading back to his room to grab one. "Good idea," he told Marco as he walked into the main hall, sweatshirt in head. He threw his usual blue hoodie on with ease and zipped it up. "It kinda smells like it's gonna rain, then again it almost always smells like that." Jean stated before leaning against the wall in the entryway while he once again waited for Marco to be completely ready.
Marco headed back into his room to get a jacket as well, picking out his old green hoodie from college. He pulled it over his head as he made his way to the door and fit his arms through the holes after he had shaken his head free. He held his arms out in a sort of "how do I look?" gesture, then looked down and pulled the rest of the hoodie down, as it had bunched up around his midriff somewhat without him noticing. "Are we taking the bus or a car?"
Jean rolled his eyes at Marco, but couldn't help but think that this particular shade of green really suited him. Jean cleared his throat and fiddled with the frayed edges of his sweatshirt before replying with, "Bus is cheaper. I don't have a car though so it's entirely up to you." Car might be better if they ran into the rain, but if they needed to split up to get the fliers down faster, one of them would be stuck with a car and the other stuck with the buses.
"Do you have an Orca card? I usually use mine for work, so maybe we should just take my car. It might not be as cheap, but you don't have to worry about that!" He offered Jean a smile, noticing that his jacket was a little old and that it didn't seem too warm. He seemed like the type to worry about money, and the fact that he might actually have had to kind of made Marco feel bad.
Jean answered by reaching into his pocket, and holding up his hand, Orca card settled between his fingers. A devious grin was spread across his face and his eyebrows wiggled at Marco. Jean's face returned to a sort of serious neutral state. "True, it might not be as cheap, but if we end up running out of time and we need to split up to get everything done, well, we can't exactly do that with a car. But then again, if we take the bus, we might get caught in the rain. Rain isn't exactly something to fear in Washington though."
Marco laughed and attempted to wiggle his eyebrows as well, though he ended up just looking miffed instead. How did Jean even pull that off? He took his Orca card out of the bowl on the hallway table and hung it around his neck for easy access. "Umbrellas and hoods are for the weak and those with stylish hair. I think we'll be fine!"
Jean put his Orca card back into his pocket, opened the door, and stood outside. "Hey, are you saying my hair isn't stylish?" he jokingly replied to Marco's last statement, a hint of playful indignation in his voice. He knew his hair was a mess, but at least he brushed it sometimes and kept it dyed. The top of his hair had been blonde since he was a sophomore in high school. It was technically his signature look. All of the friends he had now had never even seen him with a full head of brown hair, thank god.
Marco grabbed his keys on the way out and locked the door behind him, turning to Jean as he slipped his keychain in his hoodie pocket. "It's kinda stylish. Which color is natural? I'm guessing the blond. ...'Course, it'd be pretty difficult to dye the bottom like that. Changing my guess! You're a brunette, final answer."
Jean walked down the stairs with a grin on his face. "The world may never know..." he responded mysteriously, imitating the owl from that tootsie pop commercial. Marco had guessed something about Jean right, again, for the third time or so. It made Jean just a bit uncomfortable, knowing that Marco could read him so easily when Jean couldn't read Marco worth a dime. Hell, Jean couldn't read anyone. Except Yumir sometimes, and maybe his dad.
Marco followed close behind, resisting the urge to hop down the steps as he usually did. He was still a bit of a child, he admitted that much, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "So was I wrong? Don't leave me in the dark, I have to know! Curiosity might actually kill the Marco and it'll be all your fault."
"Great, I know the best place to bury the body." Jean chuckled to himself and then dismissed the fact that he might be a murderer by saying, "Just kidding. You were right. Every time you've guessed something about me, you've gotten it right. It's freaking me out. Just a little bit. But still, get outta my head, freckle-boy. I gotta keep at least a few secrets from you." He said as he walked in no specific direction. He wasn't sure where Marco had put the fliers up, so he'd just follow him for now.
Bury the body? That was a little weird. And freckle-boy? "Boy, I sure got the short end of the stick with you, didn't I?" He elbowed Jean and headed in the direction of the nearest bus stop. "Just kidding. Sorry though. I've always been pretty okay at reading people, but most of it's just common sense. Like your hair."
Jean stopped at the bus stop and bent over to read the sign. Conveniently enough, the next bus will arrive in 5 minutes or so, meaning Jean and Marco didn't have to wait around all that long. "Gee, if I had a dollar every time I heard someone say that, I'd be able to buy my own McDonalds franchise." Not that he wanted one. McDonalds was only 9th in the world at the moment. If Jean were to buy a franchise, he'd certainly invest in Hilton Hotels. Jean squinted at the bus when it rolled up to the curb. Image that, right on time. Jean scoffed and followed Marco onto the bus. He had a feeling that today would be a little less boring with this freckled roommate of his.
Sunday, the 27th of October: later that day.
The boys arrived home a little later than they'd anticipated, but they had found most, if not all, of the fliers that had been put up about a week before. Around 3pm, they had needed a pick-me-up, so they'd stopped at Jean's workplace, said hello to his friend Connie, and got some coffee. Jean and Connie had exchanged some hushed words that had left Jean a little red, and Marco thought he had heard the word "gift". He figured that Connie had given Jean a housewarming gift and he'd just left it at that.
As soon as Marco crossed the threshold, he groaned and shuffled to the couch, falling face-first into the cushions. After a few seconds, he turned his head to the side to speak. "I never want to do that again. Promise you'll always be my roommate so I don't have to go searching again."
Jean finished shedding his feet of his soaked shoes and damp socks and stripping himself of his partially damp hoodie. It had rained just a little bit towards the end of their flier adventure, not enough to be a nuisance though. Jean was just unlucky enough to step in a couple of puddles. "I'll be your roommate as long as I can. I would like to get married one day though," he said before stretching, cracking his back, and dragging his tired feet over to the couch. Marco's ridiculously long body was occupying the entire thing, so Jean, being too tired to move Marco's legs, or to even ask him to move, plopped down, straight on top of Marco's knees. He began massaging at the tired muscles in his legs, easing away the knots and kinks with a relieved sigh.
Marco closed his eyes and kicked his shoes off, though he only got one sock half off before he gave up. He grunted quietly at the addition of Jean's weight, though he didn't do anything to make him move. He'd been a trooper and had only complained a few- 17- times. "It's fine, I'll stop being your roommate when I get married too. But we'll still be roommates in spirit. Or at least I'm assuming. I feel like it's going to be a while before I settle down anyway."
"A while, huh? It certainly won't be a while before every relative you have starts interrogating you about your love life and when you're getting married and god forbid they mention children." Jean shuddered at the thought of children. He went back to massaging the aching parts of his body and ignoring the silence in the room. Jean vaguely wondered how Marco's legs and other various body parts were doing, "Hey, if you've got any sore muscles, I'll massage them for you. Free of charge and everything!"
"My family isn't too pushy, and my dad's just glad he got to raise a kid at all. So I don't really know how you feel. My aunt hinted a lot at me and Krista getting married, but I don't think that's going to happen. I do want kids, though." Marco smiled into his sleeve, then propped himself up and pulled his sweatshirt off. It took a tremendous amount of effort and left him on his face a few times, but he eventually got it off and tossed it on the floor. "My legs are pretty sore. There's some guy sitting on them... just kidding, I don't mind. But my back does hurt a little."
Jean twisted his torso and started working on Marco's back, massaging around the brunette's shoulders and spine by putting pressure into his fingertips. "How brave of you to want kids! I can't image living with them. All the screaming and crying a messes to clean up." He could barely clean up after himself, much less clean up after children. "Why would you even want them?" Jean asked. He didn't see a point to having kids, other than continuing the human species, but there are plenty of other people to do that. He continued to massage his roommate's back.
Marco thought about it for a moment, resting his chin on his arms to make him able to look at the ceiling. "I want to terrorize the world with a colony of mini-Marcos." He nodded, turning his head towards Jean to the best of his abilities. It was a little bit of an awkward position, but he made it work comfortably. "I just feel like I should be a dad, y'know? It doesn't take any special skills to raise a kid, you just need common sense and maternal instincts."
"And patience. You need a lot patience, mercy, and money. Ah, but you have those don't you?" Jean asked. So far he and Marco were getting along nicely, even though Jean had already caused more trouble than he would have liked in the past 2 days. "I mean, I don't know about the money, but you seem to have a lot of patience and mercy and kindness." He continued working his fingers into the knotted and stiff muscles of Marco's back. Jean grinned and joked, "A colony of miniature Marcos! That wouldn't happen to be part of some large, grand scale, diabolical plan to take over the world, would it?"
Marco couldn't help but feel a little guilty due to Jean's first question. He did have a decent amount saved up, and he knew it was a very stupid thing to feel bad about, but he couldn't help it! He laughed away the guilt and stretched his arms out across the sofa cushions, face pressed in between the crack of two cushions in an attempt to conceal his giggling. "Yes! You've found me out! Don't turn me in, I can change!"
Jean narrowed his eyes as though he were playing the role of a seasoned cop talking to the illusive villain, even though Marco couldn't see him. He deepened his voice and made it a bit huskier and said, "That's what they all say..." Jean's hands gripped Marco's shoulders for dramatic effect. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take you... downtown." Speaking of downtown, Jean's stomach was growling ever so slightly.. He ruffled Marco's hair and stood up. "And by downtown, I mean the kitchen because I vaguely remember being promised nachos and beer."
Marco rolled onto his back, his legs hanging over the edge of the couch. He felt a lot better, and he could probably deal with standing up if he felt like it. "You arrest me, then make me get you food? What do I look like, your nanny?" He stood up despite not wanting to, then stretched his arms over his head. He definitely felt more sluggish and tired than he had before the massage, but at least his back didn't hurt. He made a show of getting to the kitchen, groaning and dragging his feet to make him seem lazier than he really was. "The amount of effort this is taking is astounding."
Jean gave Marco a confused look. "What kind of child arrests their nanny?" He paused in thought before squinting his eyes at Marco and saying, "Are you sure you were brought up okay? I mean, did you arrest your nanny? Cause that's a little... kinky." He heard of people having things for their nannies. Of course, he wasn't accusing Marco of this, he didn't seem like the type at all, but it would be fun to tease him about it. Jean grinned to himself as Marco made a big fuss about moving. It's like he was an old man or something.
Marco scoffed, covering his red face in the crook of his arm. "That's not what I meant at all! I'm tired, don't make me say things." He recovered quickly and pulled the chips and a jar of nacho cheese down from one the cabinets, then two bowls that differed slightly in size. He poured the contents of the jar in the bowl, then put it in the microwave. He filled the other rather large bowl with a few handfuls of chips and waited, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. "Why don't you pick out a movie? Maybe something without nannies..."
Jean sauntered over to the DVD rack in the living room and began browsing through the titles. "Hey, do you have Nanny McPhee? That's a pretty good movie." He joked, although he did like the movie. As Jean looked through all of the movies, he picked out two that he had an interest in. Jean walked into the kitchen and held the movies up in front of Marco's face. "What do you think, The Exorcist, or Haunted Mansion?" Jean knew his choices were dumb, but it was getting closer to halloween so he couldn't deny that he was craving spooky movies and pumpkin-flavored everything.
Marco added the cheese once it finished heating up, then grabbed a 6-pack from the fridge and brought everything into the living room. "If I have to sit through The Exorcist, I feel like I might actually puke green slime. I turned it off after a certain point. I loved Haunted Mansion, though. Fun for the entire family. And no nannies. It's perfect! Put it in." He sank down onto the sofa and propped his feet up on the ottoman, setting the nachos and beers next to him. When he'd bought The Exorcist, he didn't think it'd be as bad as it was. The crotch-stabbing with a crucifix had really been a little over the top. He'd shut it off not long after that and never looked back.
Jean went back to the living room, examined Marco's in-home theater set-up, and messed around with his DVD player, coaxing it to open. As he put Haunted Mansion disc in the DVD reader, he said, "Awesome. Nothing like watching an Eddie Murphy movie to make you feel like you're ten years-old again!" He turned on the TV, plopped down next to Marco on the sofa, and pressed play. A couple of the beginning previews flicked by before Jean piped up and said, "Man, someone should put these ads in a museum, they're on the border of being ancient."
"Oh please. This movie isn't that old. I'd say it's ten itself, give or take a few. ...Or is it older than that? We aren't that old, are we? Oh, hey! Speaking of old, have you seen Men in Black? The first and second movies were like a decade apart but Will Smith looked exactly the same. I wonder what his secret is." Marco squint-glared at the television as if it held all of the answers to every question he'd ever asked. He usually loved previews, but there was no point in paying attention to any of the ones on that DVD. He'd already seen most of them anyway.
"Stage make-up is a powerful thing these days. If they can give people completely new faces, then making them look younger should be super easy, right?" Jean absent-mindedly watched as the previews for old movies flickered by. He'd seen all of them in his childhood, and just looking at the cheesy animations made him feel really proud of how modern-day animated movies looked. "Wow, is this a preview for The Titanic? That movie came out in the 90s, I told you this movie is ancient."
Marco tucked his feet under him and propped his elbow up on his leg, his fingers lightly brushing his cheek. "It's not Titanic. I know that movie forwards and backwards. Must be a spin-off or something. This movie isn't that old, though. Has to be from like... Early 2000s or something. I remember watching it with my aunt and her kids when I lived with them. We can look it up afterwards if you care that much." He opened the first can of beer and held out another towards Jean. He was probably the type to talk all through movies. He seemed like it, anyway.
The main menu finally popped up and Jean clicked the play button on the remote as he took the bottle of beer that Marco offered to him. He sipped gingerly at the bottle of golden liquid he held in his hand before speaking, "Nah, I don't care that much, I was just talking I guess..." The movie was starting, working it's way through the story line, so Jean figured he should probably shut up now. He focused on the screen, noting bits and pieces of it were really cheesy looking. Speaking of cheese, Jean reached for the nachos and munched on them as Eddie Murphy said a couple of cheap jokes.
Marco sipped at his beer contentedly, occasionally adjusting his position on the sofa. He usually got pretty restless during movies, as ridiculous as it was. Sitting still for two hours just made him restless. He picked at the nachos slowly, feeling hungry but at the same time wanting to leave enough for Jean. A little ways through the movie, he realized that it actually wasn't that great. He could've closed his eyes during the disturbing parts in The Exorcist, but he hadn't exactly thought of that when presented with the option.
Jean more or less voiced Marco's thoughts with a quick quip about how, "This is actually really bad. I know they wanted it to be funny, but the script is really bad and it's kind of poorly thought out." He didn't remember it being this cheesy, but then again, he hadn't watched this since he'd been living with both of his parents on the East Coast. He crunched on the nachos, which were delectable, and drank away at his beer. Maybe he should get a little tipsy so that the movie doesn't seem as bad?
Marco laughed in agreement, and if he hadn't been watching it with Jean, he probably would've put in a different movie by then. "The effects are pretty lame, the story line is a little slow, and it's just not that great. It's geared towards kids though, not grown men." He stretched his arms over his head, then draped them over the back of the couch and relaxed. It was going to be a long hour and a half...
"I kind of feel sorry for all of the parents that are being forced by their kids to watch this every halloween." Jean responded and sipped gingerly at his beer. He stared into the brown glass bottle and examined the fizzy amber liquid. Watching the thin layer of white foam around the edges pop away into nothing was more tolerable than watching Eddie Murphy make terrible jokes. He capped his bottle of Chimay and set it on the floor before he stretched his arms out in front of himself and stifled a yawn. Jean stared unamused at the screen for the most part, but grimaced when the lines were particularly bad, and occasionally let out a chuckle when they managed to work in some cheap humor that suited Jean's tastes.
"Well maybe they don't mind so much? Y'know, because it's worth it to see their kids be happy? I dunno. I'll let you know what it's like in a few years." Marco pulled his arm away from the back of the couch, his already stiff shoulder complaining as he moved it. He accidentally bumped Jean's head with his forearm and grimaced, feeling guilty even though he had really just grazed him. "Sorry. Arm's a little numb. I'll be more careful next time."
"Don't you think you'd get tired of that after a while? Just watching them be happy over a movie like this. I think I'd feel sorry for them because in ten to twenty years or so, they're gonna realize that they had absolutely no sense of humor when they were children and I dunno dude, it might haunt them. I feel like this sudden knowledge is gonna give me nightmares," Jean said dramatically with a theatrical shiver. He jumped a bit at the sudden an unexpected contact on his head, but grinned after hearing Marco's stiff apology. "Relax, it's fine, it was just a light bump anyway, not like that ever hurt anyone."
Marco thought about the reasoning behind Jean's statement, then nodded in agreement after a few moments. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Wanna turn this off and do something else? Watch another movie, play board games, jump off the balcony?" He chuckled a little at his own joke, a mistake in and of itself, then readjusted himself into a more comfortable sitting position. "I'm kidding, obviously. But really, anything would be better at this point."
Jean pressed the 'Stop' button the moment those words flew out of Marco's mouth. "I am so down with that. Balcony or board games, your choice my freckled friend," Jean said as he stood up and pulled the disc from the DVD player and placed it back into it's rightful place on the shelf, capturing dust.
Marco ran his hands through his hair at the casual mention of his freckles, breathing out a quiet laugh as he contemplated their next move. "I'm kinda in the mood for a Molly Ringwald flick, actually. If you're okay with that, that is. I have Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club? Oh! We should do an 80's night! Or y'know, 80's with a bit of 90's mixed in."
"I've heard of The Breakfast Club, but I haven't seen either of those movies. Are they any good?" Jean scanned over the shelves full of DVDs and picked out the two Marco had mentioned. He fanned them out and held them in front of his mouth before plopping back onto the couch and sending Marco an inquisitive look. "Weren't the 80s a terrible time for movies? Actually, was that whole era bad for everything? Movies, fashion, et cetera, et cetera?"
"Molly Ringwald was in pretty much everything back then. She's fantastic. Speaking of pretty, I loved Pretty in Pink too! The dress probably could've been better, but it was just the fashion of the times, y'know?" He picked the cases up and shuffled them behind his back, talking all the while. "The 80's probably could've been a lot better, but hey, look how far we've come! No more bell-bottoms, for the most part! What I gather from that is that everything can and eventually will be improved upon, no matter how great anyone thought it was to begin with. Left or right?"
"Pretty in pink? Sounds like major chick flick. Left. So are these two movies, ya know, girly and what not?" Jean hoped the movies weren't both chick flicks, but more then that he hoped Marco wasn't one of those sappy guys that lived their own soap operas and went on low calorie diets every summer and basically shit sparkles and doilies. Jean laughed out loud to dispel his nervousness and jokingly said, "I sure hope not, I might turn into a homo if they are." with a wide grin.
Marco set The Breakfast Club on the table and got Sixteen Candles out of its case, then popped it in the DVD player. "Well... I don't really understand how a movie could automatically make someone start to like the same sex, but if you're that worried about it then maybe you should invest in manly things to wear during movie nights with me. Like a football helmet or something else that suits so-called "manly" men such as yourself," he replied as he sat back down.
Jeans grin dissolved in confusion and indignation. Had he said something wrong? He could hear the anger in the uptight tone of Marco's voice. When Jean thought back on what he'd said, he'd realized he hadn't chosen the wisest set of words, and felt the regret burn along with ample amounts of shame. He stood up abruptly, his knee knocking into the coffee table and his face turning bright red. "Shit! No that's not what I meant! I m-mean um. I hadn't meant for it to come out like... that." He'd meant to shout but his humiliation caused his voice to settle into a low mumble, the apology coming out in a series of stutters and quakes. "I mean, I'm not homophobic or anything I just meant..." Jean gave up. He wasn't even sure what he'd meant, so he plopped back down on the couch and pressed his fingertips into the bruises on his hips. "I'm sorry..."
Marco jumped, more than a little startled at Jean's outburst. He stood up as well, his hands palm up towards Jean, a gesture for him to calm down. "It's not a big deal, I kind of overreacted! Sometimes things just slip out, I totally get it!" He laughed, running his hand through his hair as Jean dejectedly sat back down. "It's fine, don't worry about it. Want something to drink? Something other than beer, anyway. I feel like getting piss drunk isn't exactly the best thing to do in this kinda situation. The only possible way you'd turn into a flaming homosexual while watching Pretty in Pink is if you add beer into the mix."
Jean's fingers dug into newly forming bruises on his knees and he cast a sheepish grin towards his roommate. "Y-yeah something to drink would be cool... Especially if it comes from the fridge." Jean wasn't the joke sort of guy, and it was plain to see from that horrible pun he'd just made. "So... speaking of flaming homosexuals... are you, you know?" Jean cleared his throat and stared intently at the dark wood edges of the coffee table, avoiding Marco's eyes at all costs.
Marco disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, contemplating how to answer the question as he grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. He returned, gracelessly plopping back onto the couch and handing a plastic bottle to Jean. "A flaming homosexual? Not quite. I've had a few boyfriends, and I've had a girlfriend. Not really fond of labels, but I guess if you really needed to plant one on me, I'd be bi?"
Jean would be lying if he said he'd expected that, especially when he considered the fact that Marco was dating an incredibly feminine girl. Jean took the bottle being offered to him and began pressing his fingers into the flimsy plastic, enjoying the crackling sound it made. "Ah I see. Sorry I really didn't mean to offend you or anything..." He cleared his throat once more and turned his attention to the television screen. Maybe the tension would resolve by the end of Sixteen Candles.
Notes:
I apologize for such a late upload and I'm afraid I must continue to apologize for similar reasons in the future. My roleplay partner and I are currently working out a complex plot line for this story because we worry it's too bland and plotless in it's current state. That, combined with how busy we've both been with school and work and all things like that, we haven't had much time for roleplaying or any form of writing. It's likely that we will post one chapter every two or three months until Summer vacation starts for both of us. We're terribly sorry for not preparing more chapters in advance, however we hope you will all continue to be dedicated to our story regardless of how awful we both are.
Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. My roleplay partner and I always love hearing what you have to say and it's a big inspiration just knowing that so many of you like this story that we've created.
I've opened up a poll on my profile that has to do with this story. If you haven't checked it out already, please do so.
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please leave them in the form of a review.
Farewell, everyone, and see you next chapter, where the new day is both boring and eventful for these boys!
My wonderful roleplay partner's tumblr: bokunomarco . tumblr . c o m
My beta-reader's tumblr: arseraptor . tumblr . c o m
My tumblr: sexon3dmaneuvergear . tumblr . c o m
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