Jean woke with his head pounding and his entire body aching beneath the sheets. Even that tiny weight suffocated him, kept pressing down until his skin boiled with heat. What else should he expect, though, when he fell asleep feeling the exact same? Yeah. A miraculous recovery was wishful thinking.
With an unsteady hand, he slapped his alarm to the ground, shutting off the screeching noise. It left silence washing over him which at least helped. He could deal with something of this level. It wasn't like he felt any worse than yesterday. Maybe if he had, he would alter his plans. Instead, he grabbed his button-up and the nice jeans he always wore to work. Something of this level, he could pretend didn't exist. Just like everything else in his life.
The noise of New York screamed at him even before he slipped out of the shitty little flat he lived in alone. Marco still had a room but the guy traveled the world most of the year, trying to touch the hearts of every person he met. Marco was gentle and insane like that and currently somewhere in Sri Lanka or some other absurd country Jean couldn't point out on a map. Not home though. Never home.
As he locked the door behind him, he shook that empty room from his thoughts. It was just another fact of his shitty life, like the fact that his head hurt and he felt ill and he needed to be at work in fifteen minutes. Yep, this day was just another fact.
A faint chill crept through the September air, but once again, Jean ignored it. Pacing the few short blocks until he reached the Green Beans coffee shop, he let the weird ache in the back of his head slip away like traffic noise. After all, what could possibly make this day worse?
"Jean, you're late! If you don't get your ass over here, I'm going to tell Levi!" The loud voice had his eyes snapping to meet the ones glaring at him from behind the espresso machine. Eren fucking Jaeger. The boy he'd known for most of his life pulled the steam wand so wispy white clouds fluttered around his face that was just visible over the bean hopper. Not that this lessened his superior grin or sparking eyes. Jean could never describe them as sparkling, but sparking? Yeah. Because it seemed like fire might lance out of them one day if they let it happen.
"You've got to be kidding me…" Jean muttered under his breath as he stalked his way inside, shoulders haunched with the knowledge that yes, the day could get worse. "If you tell Levi, I'll poison your chicken salad sandwich with Urnex." He turned to grin at Eren from the back room, knowing what lunch the other brought without looking. Eren was nothing but predictable and his face said that even he didn't know it.
"You know what? Fuck you, Jean!"
That left Jean laughing. He tossed his keys and phone into his locker and tied on his pale green apron with quick, deft fingers that made him feel a bit better about working with his body so off-kilter. His fingers still moved right and his drinks would look beautiful too. As long as Eren kept his sparking eyes to himself.
Exactly on time for his shift—despite what Eren said—Jean stepped back onto the floor. "Step over, Jaeger. You take the register and I'll make the drinks." He managed a scathing glare, words gruff as he made a bee-line straight for the espresso bar, not caring that Eren already stood there. The shorter boy pursed his lips like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded once and sidestepped to the register. No doubt he wanted to argue just to argue. However, they both knew that Eren made drinks with the chaos of a tornado. At least he could charm customers with those fucking eyes of his. Which was a far cry from what Jean felt he could manage today. Already, he could feel the machine's heat seeping into his body, bringing back the dull ache in his head. "Where is Levi anyway?"
"Right here." The voice left both boys spinning to see their boss step from behind the storage shelves, two boxes in his arms. "Cutting it close, Kirschtein."
Face burning, Jean snapped his gaze away as he tried to choke out an apology. "S-sorry, sir. Won't happen again!" A grunt served as his only answer and Jean didn't know if that meant 'good' or 'I'll slit your throat later when you sleep.'
Eren leaned across the space between them, whispering into Jean's ear. "It's inventory count day. S'why we're working together so he can be off the floor. Steer clear!" The last two words he barely even mouthed, his eyes wide with melodrama. Jean couldn't help but suppress a shudder anyway, a quick glance at their raven-haired boss reinforcing every ounce of that melodrama. He wouldn't dare look at Levi if he could help it.
"Message heard. Loud and clear," Jean muttered as they slipped back into their positions. And hell if he didn't sweat a little harder when Levi glanced his way. The older man couldn't hear them whispering from that far away, but then, Jean always suspected Levi had supernatural powers. Probably sired a cemetery of vampires or something.
At least Eren did explain why their boss broke the very spoken rule of the Green Bean. That being, never schedule Jean and Eren on the same shift. He could work with Connie or Sasha, or even Ymir, despite them all being little shits. Sometimes he even liked them. And Eren liked them, worked well with everyone else from what he'd heard from their overactive grapevine. But without a doubt, he and Eren couldn't work together. Something about chemistry and pride. They clashed in all the wrong ways. Funny that they used to be friends.
Jean huffed under his breath as Eren passed a pair of marked-up cups his way. He received a glare that Jean sent back and they leaned close before spinning away again, mouths shut only in the presence of customers. They did have eight hours of this to survive. Biting words could wait…a bit.
"Horseface, don't forget the cinnamon." The shaker Eren tossed nearly hit him in the face.
Jean twisted his face into a brutal grin. "Then mark it on the cup, dick."
And so, the day began like that, regulars and strangers alike shuffling in, then out again, classical music filtering past the speakers with far too much static to soothe. But still, it was work and it ticked by with all the pomp that an over-caffeinated Eren could manage.
Somewhere past the second hour mark, Jean's head started to pound again and that added to his irritability. Every time Eren opened his mouth, Jean followed it with a snappy retort that even he found excessive half the time. He couldn't stop though, couldn't stop hating that Eren talked and the machine buzzed and the air felt like dishrags pushed under his nose. By the time that the other boy came back from his lunch that had Jean on the floor by himself for thirty minutes, sweat ran down his back in tiny streams, the blonde fringe of his bangs nearly as dark as the pecan undercut. Jean felt like shit at its finest.
"Damn, horseface, been running a marathon or something? No wait, I guess it should be a race, though you're more of a pony than a thoroughbred if you ask me," Eren called out, letting the door to the backroom smack close behind him, nearly catching his apron strings as he tied it back on. Jean leveled his most deadly glare at the other boy, hoping beyond hope that a black hole would open up in the middle of the floor and suck Eren in. Even if working the floor by himself sucked and standing was starting to hurt, he would rather hurl Eren away than continue to work like this. He wanted his own lunch, wanted to sit down even if he already did that. God, even if it was just for a minute. He felt so pathetic right now that it hurt. Or was that just his head? Jean bit back a self-deprecating laugh that left Eren's eyes sparking anew, no doubt misinterpreting the meaning behind it.
"What? Got something to say? Why don't you say it to my face then!"
Jean clenched his jaw, fingers curling into fists despite himself. "You know what, fuck you Eren. What makes you think I have something to say to you?" The anger left his head pounding which only fed his anger more. Jean didn't even care if the customers heard him curse.
Eren narrowed his eyes in return even as his lips curled into a nasty sneer. "That's it. I've had enough of this, dickwad. I seriously just got back from lunch and you're already snippy? I didn't even do anything this time!" Which yeah, was the complete truth. It left Jean feeling even shittier. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to soothe away his problems by willpower alone. Thankfully, Levi made it his mission to count each and every tea bag somewhere out of earshot.
"Ugh, whatever. It's just…I told you I've got a headache today. Can't you lay off the jokes for once?" Offering up a tired glare, he didn't bother to raise his voice. It wasn't worth the effort or the faint rush to his head that it would cause. Somewhere along the lines, Jean fucked up real bad by deciding to come to work today. He was just too stubborn to admit it aloud.
For a second, Eren stared at him, eyes roving up and down Jean's figure like he might figure out some secret from it. Maybe he did because he pursed his lips and shrugged. "Switch with me. I want to make drinks or a while." The tone left no room for argument and for once, Jean didn't bother trying to find room anyway. He felt too tired, so he slipped around the espresso machine with a hand held tight to the counter. If Eren noticed, he said nothing about it as he took his position with a steaming pitcher in hand.
From that point on, the day spiraled straight to hell. Eren couldn't even guess why, but Jean's focus snapped at the drop of a pin, turning each order into an excruciating process. He didn't know how the guy parked himself in front of the bar and made drinks all day. Any time Eren tried to say something, about anything, Jean would snap back in single word responses. It annoyed the living shit out of him. Jean annoyed the living shit out of him most days, but this was bad. He didn't even think Jean was trying to act annoying. God, it was just the guy's natural state of being.
"Jean, seriously. What is this name you wrote? Crimpy or something? I'm not calling out this nonsense." Honestly, he'd had enough. How could someone make mistakes like this on accident? Jean turned his head to meeting Eren's gaze, blank expression saying that he had in fact, done nothing on purpose. Eren wanted to blame the other boy, but he looked like he had no idea what Eren accused him of. The fuck?
Eren thrust the cup out again then repeated himself, slower. "…The name, Jean. I don't know what you wrote on this cup."
Squinting, Jean leaned forward to get a better look himself. Lips sounded out the letters, sounded them out again when the word didn't make sense. Still didn't make sense after the second attempt at reading it. Eren was right, the letters swam beneath Jean's vision, never once aligning into anything like a name. He wasn't sure if that was the fault of his vision or the letters involved. "Um…it was…" He cast his eyes across the lobby, feeling desperate to meet the eyes of the customer whose order he just took so he could maybe dredge up the name he meant to write. Because clearly, it wasn't the name he did write. "Christy, or Crissy maybe? 'S the lady with the black hair though, purple shawl." Or jacket. Or whatever.
Once again, Eren pressed his lips together in a show of dissatisfaction. He felt like he wore that expression more today than he had in the entire last year combined. And that said something, considering his attitude normally fell on the wrong side of piss-poor. "Are you serious, Jean?" He finally managed to bite out. "I know you're an idiot on a good day, but this isn't like you at all. What the fuck's got you out of sorts?" His expression deepened, eyes once again raking over Jean's figure in search of his answer since Jean never gave it. Fucker. The only thing that Eren could figure out was that the other boy looked red in the face and sweaty, the slightest bit too pale, or had he always looked that way?
The anger that Jean had been gathering into a retort floundered under that gaze and the fact that as sharply as Eren spoke, he didn't sound angry. "I-it's nothing, Eren. There's nothing wrong…" A lie. He felt himself swallow, cheeks no doubt tinging pink. Jean never did lie well and both he and Eren knew that. Those emerald green eyes narrowed in answer and Jean just swallowed again and tried to sweep it all back under the rug. "If you're not going to make that drink, then I will, you know." Dragging in a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped around the small counter to reach the bar area again.
Jean got approximately two steps before he came to a crashing stop.
"Oh…o-oh shit-!" The second he turned around to face the sleek coffee machine, the entire world tilted. Jean staggered, his hand clenched on the black countertop as his knees buckled and he nearly hit the floor. Only his shaking hand held him up and even that seemed to surprise him, like he expected the floor to slam into his face.
Pausing, Eren stared for one second before he jumped forward to offer a hand that Jean didn't take. Actually, Eren wasn't sure that the other boy even saw it. "Jean?! You okay? Did you slip or something? I don't see any water on the floor, but-"
Jean shook his head to cut Eren off. "No...just got dizzy for a second. 'M fine now." He tried to wave Eren off, but his voice wavered and instead of straightening, he slid down to lean his full weight on the counter. He looked tense with his brows furrowed, as if he needed to concentrate in order to hold something back. Eren didn't like the look at all.
"Bullshit." Biting back his anger and keeping the comment under his breath, he reached out to grab Jean's arm. The second he did, his eyes went wide. "Jesus Christ, Jean. You're hot! Do you have a fever? Don't fucking tell me you came to work sick! Just a headache, my ass!" He spun on his heel to call for the shadow in the backroom that was no doubt already paying attention to the proceedings. "Levi!"
"I...wha?" Jean managed. His head hurt too much to follow Eren's questioning. He just stared, feeling slightly disturbed that Levi stormed out of the back, eyes livid and locked onto Jean's face. It made him flush even more than he already seemed to be if the odd heat behind his eyes meant anything.
Heat.
"Oh." Jean looked up into Eren's eyes as the realization finally hit him too. And yet, he just wanted to swallow it down and pretend he hadn't because Levi looked disappointed and judgmental and as irritated as ever.
"Get off the floor."
Jean deflated. Just one statement from Levi and he was half-sagging against Eren who still kept a steadying hold on his arm. Probably for the best since Jean doubted his ability to stay standing after that, knees already wanting to land on the hard tile of the coffee shop floor. But he didn't want that. He wanted to work and move on and keep whatever was happening between the two of them on the floor from happening.
"I'm fine, really. The dizziness already passed. Levi, I need to…" But he cut his rambling short at another intense glare. Jean dropped his gaze, unable to challenge his boss when the shorter man looked like that. It made Jean feel small, like he was actually a foot shorter than Levi, rather than the other way around.
"Shut up, stupid brat. Clock out and go home to sleep or whatever you should be doing instead of working," he hissed with a roll of his eyes. A second later, that steely gaze locked onto Eren. "Help him out. I'll run the floor. Five minutes though and it counts as your last break."
"But Levi!" Eren protested, trying to plead with his hands even though he'd yet to let go of Jean, somewhat jerking him when he waved his hands.
"You goaded him all day, so this is your punishment!" Levi raised his voice just a hair and that alone left Eren stumbling back toward the break room with Jean in tow.
"God, this is so annoying. If you were sick, why'd you come to work and stress yourself like this?" Eren huffed before pushing Jean onto the floor in one of the empty corners of the room. Now that he cared to look, he realized Jean's flush didn't end at his cheeks and went down his neck as well, coupled with damp skin that didn't belong to someone that was simply embarrassed. Jean looked sick. He looked sick all day and Eren just didn't notice. "I'm seriously pissed at you, ya know."
Jean pulled his knees to his chest, head dropping down to finally hide his face. "Shut up." Jean didn't mean for the words to come out so weak, but his head was killing him. Without the distraction of arguing, he needed to squeeze his eyes shut against the dizzying force, almost forgetting to breathe for ten full seconds. "I didn't realize," he admitted. As stupid as that was, he didn't think he'd gotten this sick. God, he felt like such a disaster. Through the haze of his own racing thoughts, he felt a hand drop onto his hair. Not quite ruffling or pulling, the hand just sat there in the vaguest of comforting gestures.
"You shouldn't walk home like this. Do you have someone you can call to come get you?"
Jean started to shake his head, but aborted the action. "N-no. Marco is out of the country 'n I don't know who else would bother," he managed. A part of him didn't want to admit that he didn't know anyone to call in a situation like this. Alone, separated from his parents by oceans. He didn't have real friends or a lover, or anyone who didn't just tag along with him because Marco invited them. Only when Marco wasn't off on some escapade did he have some semblance of human interaction outside of work. Still not lifting his head, he heard Eren hum and hell if he knew what that meant.
"Okay. I'll give you a ride back after my shift." At that, Jean finally snapped his head up.
"What? Seriously?"
Eren managed to look offended even as he squatted down in front of Jean. "Yeah. Do you have a problem with that? I mean, am I supposed to just throw you out on the doorstep and watch you suffer?"
Which…yeah, was kind of what Jean did expect. He dropped his gaze, fingers squeezing into his jeans when he realized that. It was just, he'd gotten so used to their antagonism that he forgot that Eren used to almost, sort of, be his friend. "I…no…" He sighed, forcing the last word out. "Thanks."
Swallowing hard, Eren could only nod his head back regardless of the fact that Jean still stared at his knees. He couldn't brave real words though, couldn't trust what he would say. "I've got a jacket in my locker so you should throw that on and rest or whatever. Levi only gave me five minutes so I should get back out there or we'll both be going home early." Eren rolled his eyes, still a little miffed that he lost his break to this. Working the floor with Levi's eyes just behind him the entire day would only add to the flame of unease. He didn't think he had much choice though.
After shuffling on his feet for another few seconds, he moved to his locker and grabbed the jacket—a hoodie for some soccer team Armin obsessed over for two months, then moved on from. He ended up with all the leftover gear because even if Armin shifted his interests quickly, he always went hard when he supported something.
"See you in two hours. Try not to die until then, okay?" he muttered as he tossed the hoodie on top of Jean's head. Not waiting for the other boy to respond, he fled back to the floor, just barely hearing a retort thrown at his back. Eren let a smirk flit over his face before Levi caught his eye and it fell.
"Ah…is it okay for Jean to sleep in the back until I'm off? I offered him a ride…?" Eren asked, not even sure why that came out as a question. He was giving Jean a ride. Levi didn't need to give his permission, even if Eren waited with bated breath.
Levi rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Why are you asking me? It's your car." Handing Eren a pair of clean mugs, he motioned to the espresso machine where a young couple lurked. "Go show off that latte art I was teaching you last week. The simple one with the dot. You can manage at least that, right?"
"Y-yes, boss!" Eren squawked back. He reached the bar before he realized he wasn't sure he could manage that. The dot should be easy. Like, stupid easy, but he always made weird lily pad shapes, or butts, if you asked Jean. Because Jean was actually good at the latte art in a stupid and pretentious sort of way that not even Levi liked to indulge and he liked latte art. So there was that. "Um, are you really going to stay on the floor all day?" He asked, finally unable to stop himself from asking the question. The feeling of intense eyes on his back served as an answer.
"Where the fuck else would I be?"
Eren sighed and submitted himself to the fact that today would never end. Whatever horror the day started with, it would end that way too. Pouring the milk into a little metal pitcher and beginning to steam it, he let that knowledge wash over him in continuous waves. Yep, he was totally fucked.
xXx
After Eren left the backroom, Jean shrugged into the hoodie with some difficulty. Despite the fact that he and Eren were similar in size, the thing felt snug, but soft. So very soft. He pushed up the hood and sunk down into it, finally letting his eyes slip closed. So yeah, he fucked up today, but there was nothing left but to accept that. He could accept his mistakes…occasionally.
When Jean rolled completely onto the floor, he let out a blissful sigh at the cool feel of the tiles. He could stay here all day maybe, or at least…what did Eren say? Two hours? Sighing again, he felt himself start to drift into a half-sleep. Neither here or away, he just drifted without a care, waiting for the hours to pass.
Every now and then, he drifted farther into wakefulness, his eyes sweeping over the small, available view. The first time, he noticed a pile of aprons clutched in his arms, worked into a makeshift pillow. Which yeah, was a little weird. He didn't think anything of the sort had been near him to grab hold of. Levi kept the back room so organized and tidy that an apron on the floor might count as a capital offense. Jean didn't think deeply on that though and just drifted away again. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.
Another time, he felt something cold brush against his cheek, jerking him into awareness only to find a box of apple juice in front of his face. It was one of those little kiddie cartons that only five-year-olds picked up, so he scowled at it. Scowled at it before grasping the thing and stabbing its little straw in so he could drink. When he settled back down into his pile of aprons, he felt a little bit better and watched the ceiling for a while, counting each black speck in the individual tiles, then the tiles in the row, and the gray lines between.
By the time Eren's shift ended, Jean didn't know if he floated on a cloud or if he was the cloud.
"Jean. Hey, Jean…?" The voice pulled him from out of his thoughts. Jean turned his head inside the tangled cloth of the hood and found Eren gazing at him from the doorway. His caterpillar eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling on his lips. Jean expected a retort about him not having died after all but Eren just let the door swing shut and crouched down in front of him, pushing the edge of the hood away so he could look into Jean's eyes. "Oh, so you're awake. Hey, my shift is over so I should get you home. You're not looking so good."
Jean wanted to laugh because he felt pretty sure he didn't look good from the start, considering he had a fever. Might have even looked like it in the morning if he let himself think about it. After sleeping on the floor for two hours, he doubted he looked less rumpled. He huffed, trying to express that as best he could without words since his throat currently felt like sandpaper with the aftertaste of apples. It made forming his next words rather difficult.
"Fuck off."
Eren raised an eyebrow at the coarse words, watching as Jean squeezed his eyes shut, then blinked them a few more times. Eren still crouched in front of him though and the weird look on his face hadn't gone away. "That would defeat the whole purpose of this wouldn't it?" he asked when it didn't look like Jean planned to take his words back. Though he doubted Jean even halfway meant what he said. "Come on. Stop acting stupid and just take my hand already."
With insistence, Eren shook his hand in front of Jean's face which…had that been there before? He squinted his eyes at the offending object before it registered that he was supposed to do something in response. Carefully, Jean slid his hand into the other boy's, squeezing it, because his mind hadn't caught up yet. Eren asked him to grab the hand though…so yeah. It felt nice in his grip after all, so warm and calloused that he shivered because of that slight human contact. A second later, Eren rolled to his feet and yanked Jean up with him.
"Hey!" The choked cry erupted from Jean's throat as he stumbled, steadying himself against Eren's chest. While laying down, he almost kidded himself that he felt alright. Or at least, he didn't feel his head spin and ache, even if the hot and cold spells still plagued him. The sudden rush to his feet ended all of that, leaving a tiny groan slipping through his lips as his vision blurred over. "Hold still…" And he wasn't sure if he spoke to Eren or his own vision. He just didn't think he could move without falling on his ass that moment.
Eren paused, but only for two seconds before he started to tug Jean away from him and towards the door. "Ugh, just walk, Jean. Think about your cozy bed or whatever. You'll never get to curl up in it unless you get your ass moving now." He managed to get them through the back room door, mostly supporting Jean who still struggled to stand upright.
Managing an impish grin through the swimming feeling in his head, Jean threw back a retort. Almost pleaded with it. "Carry me?"
"Are you fucking kidding?!" Eren hissed, head snapping to the side so he could take in that bright-eyed, almost manic look on Jean's face. "There's no way I could carry you. We're the same size, idiot!" Even when the eyes of some of their regular customers turned to stare, Eren maintained his stand-off with Jean, feeling far too incredulous to turn away. The fact that Jean sounded only half teasing just made it worse.
For a second, Jean's steps faltered so that they barely drifted through the lobby, somewhere between the little wooden tables and displays of French presses. His eyes were on Eren, words tumbling out before he gave them any real thought. "Yeah, but you've got that chest and like…um, arm muscles, so you could…" He flushed a shade darker, and this time, he looked equal parts embarrassed and sick. If not for the faint open-mouthed look, like he couldn't breathe through his nose, Eren's heart might have fluttered in his chest.
"Seriously?!" Eren didn't want to question why Jean thought about his muscle build in the first place. He was a far cry from how he looked during his high school volleyball days, but Jean kept pouting at him. It made it hard to get angry, so Eren settled for exasperated. After another groan, he grabbed Jean's arm and flung it over his shoulder with a barely suppressed roll of his eyes. "Whatever, just hold on okay. I've got you." Slinging his other arm around Jean's waist, he pulled him close before continuing to the old truck he left parked at the back of the store.
Jean leaned most of his weight on him as they walked and Eren must have been stronger than he thought because it worked out. They reached the truck without much problem, Eren leaving Jean leaned against the side so he could unlock it and get them both situated. A minute later, they were driving down the road toward the address Eren knew from errands and one late night drop off from the Halloween work party where Connie spiked the punch and 'forgot' to tell anybody.
By the time Eren pulled into the apartment complex, Jean looked like a wadded-up old rag with his cheek pressed into the door jam. Not sure if the other boy noticed their arrival or not, Eren shook his shoulder. "Come on, Jean. You still alive in there?" He paused, then shook Jean's shoulder again. "Don't tell me a slick guy like you needs help getting inside too. I'm gonna shove you out." Not that Eren meant his words even a lick. This was just their way of talking, familiar and easier than being nice, even when he didn't want to be mean at all. He just needed things to return to normal.
Apparently, Jean felt the same way because he huffed in response. "I told you I'm fine. You're being weird, Eren." Slowly, as the very motion pained him, Jean unfolded himself from where he nearly slumped onto the floor. "I can go!" He managed to get the door unlocked and stumbled out into the parking lot.
Eren snorted as he followed close behind, half expecting Jean to faceplant before he reached the metal stairs. The other boy seemed to move with striking determination, though, and even if his legs wobbled, his path never did—straight for a spot one foot to the right of the stairs. Eren grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the right course.
"Right. This coming from a guy who asked me to carry him ten minutes ago. Damnit, Jean! And quit pretending you're not still dizzy. It's not saving you any pride, you know." Eren wasn't sure why Jean bothered now of all times when Eren already saw him in a heap on the backroom floor. Jean lost his pride then, but the car ride and Eren's constant presence seemed to have pushed him back into his usual head space. Which was stupid because Jean's head was messed up right now and they both knew it. Why bother trying to sweep it under the rug this late in the game?
Eren sighed and supported Jean up the stairs when it became obvious that the other boy wouldn't manage otherwise. Together, they stumbled into Jean's apartment which sat just to the left of the second-floor landing.
Once inside, Eren flipped the lights on and hovered by the door, watching as Jean made a bee-line for his couch. It was strange. For all the times he saw the outside of Jean's home, he'd never once stepped inside.
The tiny view revealed a couch and a high counter that separated the living and kitchen area. The couch looked second-hand, or maybe third or fourth. It created a sharp contrast to the 58 inch tv and the game systems piled underneath, one controller to each one. The extras sat on a shelf, looking so dusty that Eren felt a pang of guilt. Why the fuck did he have to notice these little things right now?
Like the remnants of takeout on the coffee table or the book on the armrest that Jean nearly sent flying. Or the clean clothes hung over the back of a kitchen chair instead of in the closet. Without a doubt, this was the apartment of someone who never had guests. Even Eren, who had come to the door more than once in the past, never got to see this. And right now, Jean didn't seem to notice the existence of this fact at all. Damn.
"You don't have to stay, you know," Jean broke through his thoughts. Eren snapped his gaze back to the other boy, meeting the unfocused hazel eyes roving over his face. "Thanks for this and all, but…" Jean swallowed, his eyes dropping to the ratty, rust-colored upholstery in front of him. "…I don't want to hold up any more of your day."
At that, Eren snapped out of his trance. "Oh come off it," he huffed as he stepped fully into the room. "I'm the one who offered to drive you, so I'll leave when I'm damn well ready to. Don't try to push me off because you feel guilty or something stupid like that." He paused. "Even if this is all your stupid fault. Shouldn't have come to work." With another shake of his head, he kicked off his shoes to show just how much he intended to stay. Which, he hadn't until Jean made a fuss about it. However, he could never comply with such a sad wish.
Jean hummed, the only answer he could bring himself to give at the moment. Eren kept acting weird, but maybe he imagined that? And maybe it didn't matter since his head hurt and the couch felt nice. He could even fall asleep here if it was a little dimmer and quiet.
"Do you have cold medicine or Tylenol or anything?" Eren called out. Jean turned his head to see the other boy wandering through his kitchen before poking his head into the two rooms down the hall. Jean flushed red, spluttering at the absolute gal that boy had.
"O-of course!"
A second passed before Eren popped around the side of the couch like a goddamned ninja. One of his eyebrows arched into his hairline, clearly expectant. For what, Jean didn't know. It left him furrowing his brows in response, a silent answer to the silent question.
"…Where…?" Eren finally asked, the word long and drawn out.
Right. Jean bit his lips, feeling the wrong shade of stupid. "Bathroom, in the drawer to the right of the sink." With a flop of one of his hands, he indicated the open door just down the hall. Eren stalked off again, returning less than a minute later with a foil pill packet and a half-empty bottle of something he didn't even recognize.
"Have you eaten today?"
Jean snapped his eyes away from the medicine to meet Eren's stare, shrinking back from the intense look he received. Not that he really followed the line of questioning, which seemed to be the theme of the day. Was it the fever he knew still raged through his blood or just Eren's special brand of nonsense? The thought left Jean shifting yet again in an attempt to look invested in the conversation rather than confused by it. "Yes…? I ate an apple before work and those Bevita biscuit things Levi keeps in the back because he thinks no one else will eat them. I kinda regret it too since they tasted like sand."
For a second, Eren looked torn between impressed and judgmental before he reached out to bop Jean on the back of the head. "It's three in the afternoon! You should at least eat lunch!"
Was it? That disappointed scowl didn't seem fair when Jean only told the truth. Wasn't that his schtick? All the more so when ill. It left him groaning in frustration and wondering why he let Eren into his apartment in the first place. Right, because he couldn't walk straight. Didn't help that Eren felt nice under his grip too. Jean threw up both arms, trying to dissuade both Eren's line of questioning and his own train of thoughts. "I don't know what you want me to say!"
Eren let out a frustrated noise of his own before sighing, letting his shoulders slump yet again. "I don't know either. I'm shit at stuff like this and you keep making it harder. God, why are you so stupid? Wait…don't answer that," he added with a quick roll of his eyes. Sidling closer to the couch, Eren bopped the pill packet against Jean's forehead. "But since I've already committed to taking care of you for the day, you should stop complaining and accept it already. Clearly, you need someone around before you self-combust." Rolling his eyes one last time, he placed the medicine on the table and stalked away.
Jean followed the movement, sputtering in an attempt to get a single word in edgewise. "W-wait? Where are you going, asshole?!" Nevermind that his own voice sounded wheezy and not the least bit intimidating.
"You shouldn't take medicine on an empty stomach. Stay there and I'll bring you something in a few."
Eren didn't offer any other explanation so Jean flopped back onto the couch with a huff, for all the good that did him. Eren just went and did what he liked and Jean didn't know if he should feel irritated or relieved because of it. His stomach did let out a gurgle when it realized how he neglected it, so he submitted himself to the benefits of keeping Eren around. Yeah, definitely not bad at all if the sound of water filling a pot meant anything. He hoped it would turn into potato soup.
Not sure what else to do, Jean pulled the dog-eared adventure novel into his lap and started to read. Napping at work left him unable to drift off again but even with the tiny, printed words in front of his eyes, he felt his mind start to wander. Thoughts of Eren fired at random in between the lines about a mercenary troupe on the eve before mutiny. Why was the other boy even here? Did he mean to be friends again? Had they stopped being friends?
Feeling dizzy with his thoughts more than his fever, Jean flipped the page, not sure if the mercenary's second in command planned to march his friends into a double cross or complete the original mission their leader forgot one hundred pages ago. And yet, Jean wanted to lean over the back of the couch and see what Eren concocted in the kitchen. He was pretty sure he missed the entire point of reading, actually missed the biggest reveal while he skimmed another two pages.
But Eren. Jean's heart started to prance inside his chest, far too like one of Eren's horse jokes. He could imagine the gay flick of hooves inside his chest, edged in white fur like a complete show pony. The feeling left him squeezing his eyes shut, a moan filtering past his lips. Since when did he get so weird? Eren made him feel in a way he couldn't even explain—flighty and tense and so cared for that it left stars bursting beneath his eyelids. Another sound of distress slipped out. Jean didn't know what any of this meant. It was the fever. It was definitely the fever alone that made weird thoughts run through his mind.
The sound of a throat clearing left Jean's eyes snapping open again, surprised to see Eren's face hovering from less than a foot away. "W-what?!" He pretended his voice didn't hit a note so high it left his own ears ringing.
Eren blinked once, then pointed to his book. "The king gets eaten by a dragon in the end. It's super surprising."
Eyes sliding down to look at the book as well, Jean's brow furrowed before his mind caught up with Eren's words. "Are you fucking kidding me!? I'm going to kill you Eren! I'm actually going to kill you!" To hell with weird heart palpitations caused by turquoise eyes. Jean just started to struggle up from the couch when Eren pulled back, all smiles and a teasing glint in his eyes.
"Sorry, I made that up, you know? Here." Eren shoved a bowl into Jean's hands before he could protest, leaving him staring down in abject surprise. "What? Don't tell me you're not hungry anymore."
Jean wanted to point out that he'd never admitted to being hungry in the first place, even if his stomach did speak to the point. Once again, it gave a little rumble. The problem was, the contents of the bowl were not the stew or soup or whatever he'd been expecting. "Eren…is this mac and cheese? Why did you make me mac and cheese?"
Eren returned the look of bafflement with one of his own. "Uh. Why not?" He ran a hand through his hair, tangling the shaggy, dark locks until they turned to knots around his fingers. Realizing he nearly created a Chinese finger trip on his own head, he snatched his fingers back to his side, gesturing rather lamely toward his hard work for the last fifteen minutes. "I'm a shit cook and I saw the box in your pantry. Seemed simple and good?" He cleared his throat again, fighting the flush that wanted to rise up his neck. He didn't even know why Jean unnerved him right now. Like taking care of him meant something other than Eren felt a little sorry for him and obligated and just…he was a good person okay. Good people took care of other people even if they didn't want to. It didn't have to mean anything.
The tips of Jean's ears tinged pink before he started to spoon the bits of yellow pasta into his mouth. "Thanks," he mumbled, trying to hide the sound with his chewing, though he couldn't stop himself from uttering it in the first place. Eren accepted the single word with silence so Jean settled back to focus on eating.
As much as he wanted a bowl of soup and mourned its memory, the cheap noodles felt good in his mouth. The processed flavor comforted him, reminiscent of the first time he and Marco tried to cook it together and he augmented his mother's recipe of adding breadcrumbs on top and putting it in the oven. It was obvious they had no idea what they were doing. The meal turned to mush, but he liked it, just as he liked standing on a stool next to his mom when she taught him how to shave parmesan crumbles. For the first time in years, he felt his heart clench with something akin to homesickness.
He used to have friends back in France. Not many, but he did have them. However, all of that vanished when he moved to New York with his uncle. Like a stupid middle schooler, Jean thought parental freedom was the best gift a teenager could receive. He was wrong. Even if he didn't hate America, he had grown…lonely?
Jean didn't realize how much silence lapsed between them as he stared into Eren's eyes. The boy had the most dazzling orbs set in an otherwise plain face. Stupid eyebrows, stupid tan, but eyes that reminded Jean of summers in the south of France with rolling hills and skies so blue it made him shield his eyes and just grin. He wanted to fall even deeper into their depths.
The bowl forgotten in his hands, he leaned forward until the two of them sat with only inches between. Eren leaned closer too, as if pulled by the same thread, or maybe Jean pulled him in without meaning, without realizing what he did. Kneeling on the floor, Eren hovered just above where Jean lay on the couch. And even though it was Eren, Jean realized it had been him here by his side the entire time. Eren had come to fill his empty apartment.
The two leaned imperceptibly closer to each other. Jean's breath fanned against Eren's lips, warm and moist in the suddenly constricting space. "What are…?" Jean closed the last bit of distance between them before Eren could even finish the question. All of a sudden, there was too much air for him to breathe. Jean's lips felt warm against his, desperate and sloppy in the way they pressed against his, but they didn't try to push, just soaked up everything they could from a single touch. It left them both dazed when Jean pulled away, blinking with silent awe.
"I…" Jean started, his breath still so close that Eren's lips tingled in response. God, it hadn't even been much as far as kisses went but it left him shocked. The way red rushed all over Jean's face and he just lay there gaping said he felt the exact same way. Finally, Jean shook his head and pressed his lips into a firm line. "Why did I…to you?"
Eren wanted to laugh. Why indeed? It seemed like a stupid question for Jean to ask him when he initiated the kiss himself. Sitting back on his heels, Eren just let his hands flop into his lap. "It's the fever?" A stupid hope. They both knew it but grabbed onto it anyway.
"Maybe? Yeah," Jean echoed, his voice ringing oddly in his ears, as if from a distance. Like he spoke without understanding his own words. "It's the fever. That's why I keep thinking weird things…" He shook his head, trying to somehow commit that statement into fact. And maybe it was. He never thought about kissing Eren until this moment, one second ago. Hell, he didn't even think to do it then. It just happened with the stupid dream-like quality that everything had today.
Eren looked like he wanted to ask what thoughts Jean entertained in his head, but after a second, he closed his mouth, letting the question slip by unsaid. Instead, his brow furrowed, and after another second, he seemed to come to his own conclusion. With careful hands, he took the bowl away from Jean and set it on the coffee table.
"Right. This is all because of the fever." His voice a determined whisper, Eren brushed his fingers along Jean's cheekbone, taking in the warmth of his skin and the sharpness of his jawline. Then, as if it was the most natural thing ever, he pulled Jean into his arms.
The hug caught him off guard. Jean squawked, but the sound ended abruptly when his face collided with the front of Eren's shirt. He balled his fists there, trying to pull away, but the feeling of Eren's hands sliding up to rest on his back, firm and almost cool to the touch made him freeze instead. With no warning and no explanation besides a fever, Eren fucking Jaeger pulled him into a hug. Jean wanted to laugh. He wanted to do a lot of things, but he just dropped his forehead against the other boy's shoulder and melted. It had been too long and his body craved the simple touch, needed it more than he ever realized. How could he just pull away?
"Why?" The question came out lost, still a bit muffled by Eren's shirt. Jean could feel him shrug just enough to send Jean's body rolling against his.
"Do I need a reason why?"
Yes. Jean wanted to say that, but instead, he shook his head and slid his own arms around Eren's back. It felt marvelous. He couldn't deny that. Even better than the kiss that he also didn't understand. Maybe he just needed someone to touch him in some way. It didn't even matter how. He needed the satisfaction that body warmth still existed and didn't disappear whenever Marco waltzed away, forgetting that no one else would get that close to him. No one else would share a hug. God, Jean was such a loser idiot. He shouldn't get that worked up over a hug, but Eren didn't point this little fault out. He seemed stoic, staring at the wall behind Jean with a gaze that could burn holes if it had been a little angrier and less steady.
They sat like that for a long time. Long enough for the macaroni to grow cold and plasticy on top. Eren tried to offer it back but Jean just curled his upper lip. He refused to eat cold Kraft pasta. If he stooped that low, he didn't know what he would do.
They settled for apples, carrots, and a bag of Doritos that hid on the very top shelf of Jean's pantry, out of what should have been the reach of greedy friends like Eren. He supposed they did count as friends.
The meal finished and his medicine swallowed under Eren's unblinking gaze, Jean decided that they'd stretched out this weirdness long enough. It would break if they kept going. But, maybe if he shrunk it back now, they could stretch again, at a later date. So, swallowing back the lump in his throat, he turned to where the other boy sat next to him, watching shit TV on mute.
"I'm feeling a lot better, you know. You should head home, Eren…" However, Jean couldn't help the way his words trailed off. These words needed to get said, but hell if he didn't hesitate to bring about the one thing he didn't want—distance. Or was that the fever still speaking for him? Even after dinner and TV and barely there conversation, the feeling that he wanted to fling himself at Eren never left. It was too much to ask, though, and more than Jean wanted to take. Just this had been enough. He forced his smile on a little brighter.
"Seriously. You can go."
Eren's eyes darted off, instantly narrowed and sparking in their oh so familiar way. "You sure? I could stay you know." He pursed his lips, fighting his own desire to trail his words and make the silence that stretched after it even more awkward. Thankfully, he held that in because Jean didn't think he could take any more awkwardness. Today had been nice, despite everything. He didn't want to ruin it.
Shaking his head, Jean nudged Eren in the arm again. "I told you, I'm fine. 'N really, might just go crash after this. Probably should anyway. Already got Connie to take my shift tomorrow so maybe next time I show up at work, there won't be any fever between us." Whatever the hell that meant. Eren's eyes returned the question, but he seemed to accept it because, after a second, he pulled his gaze away again.
"Okay. And yeah, that would be good. No fever that is…" Eren swallowed hard and tried not to let those words sound like they meant more than they did. Except, he felt sure he talked about more than fever and feeling better. Fever was their euphemism now, so what the hell did that mean in this conversation? Did Jean use it on purpose? He never got the chance to ask, though, because his phone vibrated with a text from Mikasa asking where the hell he was and just like that, the moment broke. He and Jean murmured their awkward goodbyes and five minutes later, he jogged down the metal stairs to the waiting hulk of his truck.
Maybe Eren didn't know what the fever brought them today, but if the warmth steeling through his own chest was anything to judge by, it was a fever that he could welcome with open arms. Fuck Tylenol and chicken soup. He wanted to drown in this fever forever. He just hoped Jean was ready to lose himself as well, because hell if Eren planned to drown alone. When it came to fevers of the heart, it was always best to go in together. At least he knew that much in their messed up little world of sparks and touches like cotton. It was never best to drown alone.