The next morning, Jean had to admit, Marco's plan had worked great. When he woke up he was warm and comfortable, snuggled up to the source of the heat. He didn't want to move or open his eyes, it was nice. One of the nicest things he'd experienced since the start of the apocalypse. Wait, the heat source was…
Jean's eyes snapped open as he quickly became aware of his surroundings. He was cuddled up to Marco, nuzzling his neck. Marco's arm was draped lazily around his waist ad he had a peaceful smile on his face. Not wanting to wake Marco but still wanting to get out of the awkward position, Jean carefully removed Marco's arm from his waist. Moving slowly, he stepped out of the bed and set his arm back down. He actually looked really cute.
Woah, what? No, Jean wasn't willing to deal with this right now. He had spent three years convincing himself that he was straight, he wouldn't let the little freckled angel ruin that. No! Marco, not an angel. Jean took the stairs two at a time as he entered the living room. He flopped on the couch and put his face in his hands. After a few calming breaths he sat up straight.
Jean remembered his father's rants about the sanctity of marriage and the disgusting homos on T.V. but a little voice in the back of his head reminded him that his father wasn't there. Hell, his father probably wasn't even alive. While he was deep in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Marco come downstairs until he took a seat next to him.
"I don't know about you but that plan definitely worked for me," Marco said with a grin. Jean snapped his head towards Marco as a light blush covered his face. Marco giggled, "A little jumpy are we?"
Jean forced a chuckle but otherwise didn't respond, a frown setting over his face. Marco noticed Jean's odd behavior and his smile faltered, but in a second it was back. "Have you eaten yet?"
"No, I only got up a few minutes ago," Jean said.
"Great, so pickles again?" Marco asked as he stood to grab the bag. Jean nodded and Marco pulled out the pickle jar. He sat back down and popped the lid, offering the jar to Jean. Jean took the jar from Marco and their fingers brushed against each other. Jean felt sparks shoot up his arm and through his chest, but despite the light blush on his face he did his best to ignore it.
They ate and went about their usual morning business, which was pretty much sit around and try to find something to grabbed his book from the pile and Marco began wandering the house. As he was walking past the master bedroom he began walking faster, but something caught his eye. A calendar, one with checkmarks counting off the days. It occurred to him that he had no idea what day it was, or even what month.
He entered the room carefully, despite the knowledge that there was nothing in there. He grabbed the calendar and a sharpie from the desk before speed walking out of the room again. He entered the room he and Jean shared and sat at the desk, next to the broken window. They had cleaned up the glass weeks ago and Marco used it constantly.
He knew the outbreak had been early spring, the first few days of April. The last day checked was April third, Marco marked that as the day of the outbreak. He assumed he met Jean around early August, he chose the fifth and wrote it in. He wet down through the list, making hypotheses about when things happened. Found the farm, October seventh, he made a mental note to write that on the makeshift headstones they had for the graves outside. Since it was getting colder, Marco decided it was late November. He chose November twenty fifth so he could have a thirty day countdown to Christmas.
Marco excitedly made a small checkmark in the corner of every day from April fourth to November twenty fourth before he ran downstairs to Jean.
"I have deemed today November twenty fifth!"
"What?" Jean asked as he looked over the top of his book at Marco. Marco quickly explained himself and a smile split across Jean's face at Marco's giddy grin.
