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baronessblixen · 7 years ago

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Your Voice At Night

A huge thank you to the anon who asked if I would ever write Scully speaking German as well as the awesome peeps who re-watched “Unruhe” with me. This is a post-ep for that episode. With apologies to the prompts in my inbox and to Heinrich Heine.

Tagging @today-in-fic

The cursor blinks at Scully provokingly, waiting for her to go on, to finish her report. Mulder asked her if he should write it. Take the case out of her hands and Gerry Schnauz out of her mind. As if he could do that. But he asked. In fact he asked several times. Each time she declined, at first softly, then firmly. She could do this. She reminded him that she'd been there. She'd been the one in the trailer, sitting in front of him, talking to him. This was her job. Mulder had nodded, bitten his lip and kept quiet. She sighs, stares at the screen. Her fingers are poised over the keyboard when the phone rings.

"Scully." She answers even though she knows who it is.

"It's me," Mulder says in a gentle voice, "I was just calling to see how the report is coming along." It's the weekend and he's never cared before. They've never handed a report in too late – thanks to her. The report is an excuse, but Scully grabs it, turns away from the screen. It can wait a moment longer.

"I'm almost done." She says truthfully and takes off her glasses. Her eyes burn, her temples throb. Yet another headache. She's been having them a lot lately. Too much work, she thinks, plans to do nothing the next day. If Mulder leaves her alone, anyway.

"Good. Cause I need someone to cure my unruhe." Mulder chuckles and Scully rolls her eyes.

"That's not funny, Mulder."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not even a little bit."

"I'm sorry, Scully," his voice turns serious, darker, "I've just been thinking a lot and… I don't really care about the report."

"It's good to know you're taking our job so seriously."

"That's not what I meant." There's a crackling sound, some mumbling. Scully is about to ask what Mulder is doing when he starts speaking again. "I called to, you know. Ask you. How you were… how it was coming along."

"Nothing you just said made any sense, Mulder." Again, he's quiet and Scully is not in the mood. She's tired, she's agitated. She needs to finish the report, as much as she doesn't want to, and then put it behind her. The whole experience. Howlers, the man with the crazy eyes had said. Unruhe. There's no unruhe inside of her. She'd know.

"Why did you take German in college?" Leave it to Mulder to throw a curveball. After all this time together Scully should be used to this. To him jumping from topic to topic without a stop in between.

"Does it matter?"

"Humor me." He says, waits. "Please." He adds when she doesn't answer.

"There was a guy and I-"

"You learned German for a guy?"

"There was this guy," she repeats, louder this time, "and he was taking German and yes, I liked him."

"Who knew that German was the language of love." Mulder chuckles again and Scully sighs deeply, hopes he hears it loud and clear.

"Does that answer your question?"

"It does. But wait! What was lover boy's name?"

"I don't remember."

"Come on, Scully." Mulder pleads.

"I really don't remember." It's the truth. She knows he had a cute smile and that's it. He might have been nice to look at from a distance, but their conversations were shallow and tedious. An acquaintance best forgotten.

"I make you a deal. You tell me his name or you say something in German."

"You don't speak German, Mulder."

"I just want to hear you speak it." There's the distinctive sound of a sunflower seed being cracked open. Mulder has time. He knows she's not going to just hang up on him. She would, but she fears that if she did, he'd jump into his car and drive over. So it's either this phone call or a Mulder who keeps her awake while staring at her from her couch. She can do this.

"You don't speak any German, do you?"

"Nope." Another sunflower seed.

"All right," Scully closes her eyes, tries to remember the words, "uhm, ich bin… ich bin gluck-glücklich," the words twist her tongue, feel foreign against her lips, "dass du mich gerettet hast. Ich kann mich immer auf dich verlassen. Du wirst mich immer retten. Manchmal… rette ich dich auch." She stops again and waits for Mulder to comment, to make fun of her accent. But he's quiet. Way too quiet.

"Go on." He says finally, softly. Scully stares out the window, watches a car pass by, wonders. Poetry. One of the things she loved most back in college was the way her teacher read out poems to the class. A native German with gray hair and stern eyes he often seemed scary (and was made fun of a lot), but once he read the words of poets long gone, everything about him softened, lit up. She doesn't remember much. Can't recall a whole poem, but there are a few lines that come to her, seem to have settled deep within her.

"Sie liebten sich beide, doch keiner wollte es dem anderen gestehen," Scully blushes even though Mulder has no idea what she's telling him, "sie sahen sich an so feindlich und wollten vor Liebe vergehn." Her breath catches, her heart pounds.

"I was wrong." Mulder says.

"About what?" Does her voice sound strange? She can't tell. Does Mulder have any idea, any idea at all, that she just more or less admitted her love for him? Something she's barely admitted to herself?

"German is, or can be, a language of love."

"Any language can sound lovely, Mulder. You just need to listen."

"Hmm. What did you say anyway?"

"It's just something I remembered from class," she lies, "It might have been a poem. Mulder, I appreciate you calling me, but I really need to finish this and go to bed." He is quiet and for a moment Scully wonders if maybe he's just hung up.

"Are you sleeping all right? No nightmares?" That's the reason he called. It's only taken them twenty minutes to get here. Scully can't help but smile.

"No nightmares, Mulder." She says and means it.

"Good. That's… good. So uhm, how do you say good night in German?"

"Gute Nacht." Scully tells him.

"Gute Nacht." Mulder repeats and he sounds as if he's in pain. Scully chuckles and then, without another word, hangs up. She returns to the screen where the cursor is still blinking at her. She puts her fingers on the keyboard, but she doesn't type. She thinks of the poem, thinks about what she told Mulder. How she's thankful that he's once again saved her and how she knows that he always will. How she saves him, too, sometimes.

And the poem. She makes a mental note to look up the whole poem tomorrow. Not tonight. Tonight she only repeats the words in her head. Two people in love, unable to say the words. Two people who exchange hostile glances but dissolve in love. She blushes again and then smiles. One day Scully will tell him. Recite the whole poem, explain to him what it means. Only her version will end with two people in love. Full stop.

#have some german #i am not sure what to think of this thing #but i wanted to share anyway #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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darui · 7 years ago

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|rette mich| chapter six

Rating: MA Story Summary: Forcing Jean and Eren to be roommates for four months could be a bad thing. Or it could result in the both of them saving each other from themselves.

Chapter Summary: He and Jean weren’t exactly the closest and probably weren’t going to be for a very long time, but Eren refused to give up on that. Whether that happened in months or years, he was willing to go for it.

previous chapter or this chapter on AO3

Eren yawned for the third time in a row, making his chest hurt, his ears pop, and tears suddenly wet his eyes. He rolled over on the couch, looking at the television but not really watching the rerun of a child’s television show he used to enjoy when he was a kid. It was one in the morning, and Eren was trying his best to stay awake so he could talk to and apologize to Jean. After his talk with Armin and some quiet time that consisted of talking to himself while he ate a nonsensically large sized Caesar salad with potato soup, Eren decided Jean and him couldn’t backtrack in the little progress they had as friends.

He and Jean weren’t exactly the closest and probably weren’t going to be for a very long time, but Eren refused to give up on that. Largely in part, it was because he wanted to fight for Jean. Fighting for Jean really meant that Eren wanted to get to know Jean and gain his trust so much so that Jean saw him as a potential love interest. Whether that happened in months or years, he was willing to go for it. There was still only one problem with that, going for it was scary.

He was Eren Jaeger, so he shouldn’t be afraid of going for it, but in this case, he actually was. He’d done and said tons of questionable shit in his life, all without thought and with quick abandon, but entering a relationship with a childhood crush wasn’t something one doesn’t without thought. Especially if that crush is a spitfire like himself with obvious walls that were meant to keep people out of his business.

That part of Jean made sense to him. He had his own walls and things he wanted to keep to himself. Life was hard, people went through shit, and sharing that stuff with people other than yourself was nearly impossible. He pushed back memories from his childhood all the time, and he knew that wasn’t making his life any better, but it was a hell of a lot easier. Plus, he had no idea went Jean went through. If Armin hadn’t reminded him, he would’ve forgotten that Jean wasn’t in the states for a couple of school years. That didn’t necessarily mean anything since life happens and people move around, but Jean obviously came back different.

Jean was almost as boisterously eccentric and as loud as Eren was when they both showed their true colors. But after a couple years in France and wherever the fuck he went, he was different. If Eren knew Marco was Jean’s best friend before, it was evident more than ever when he came back and really only associated with him. When Jean started opening up to Bertolt and the others, it was obvious that he was a changed man. Jean was noticeably thinner and taller, but that was expected thanks to puberty, and yet his demeanor was suddenly more reserved.

It was never really brought up, but Eren wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize the fact that his crush was noticeably different. What aspects he was different in, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he wanted to find out so that they could be on better terms. And pushing Jean's antidepressant use and having him overhear Eren having sex with Reiner was definitely a path to them not being on good terms or not being on terms at all. They were only living together for another three months, where a lot could happen and couldn’t happen if the proper moves weren’t made.

Eren chewed his lip, incorrectly ripping off a piece of skin that resulted in slight bleeding. He sucked his teeth in annoyance, still chewing on his lip in another section since bad habits were impossible to stop. He then decided to get a snack of some sort, his soup and salad dinner not being enough to ease the hunger from his stomach for a whole night. After a couple of steps to the kitchen, he opened the pantry and then the fridge, thinking of all the possible concoctions that’d result in a satisfying snack.

In the midst of his thought process, Eren remembered that he bought fresh bread, which meant a sandwich was in order. Luncheon meat wasn’t exactly something they kept in the house, so it meant that he was forced to eat a peanut butter and jelly. Unfortunately, Jean was the one that last assured him that there was PB&J making things in the house, so he was incredibly irritated when he saw that all they had was crunchy peanut butter and some type of strawberry spread. Of course, Eren would normally eat those things, but like the PB&J lover he was, he wanted options. This meant no options.

Eren rolled his eyes, going forth with making the sandwich. It was when he was done making the first sandwich, that he heard Jean walk in through the front door. Eren looked at the clock built into the oven, the time was half past one in the morning. He pressed his lips into a line while he set up another two slices of bread for his next sandwich, wondering if now was really the time to try and talk to Jean when their fight was hours ago.

He didn’t have much time to give it thought because Jean was walking into the kitchen, a plastic bag in hand and a bored look on his face. Jean’s face quickly morphed from disinterest to mild alarm at seeing Eren awake and in the kitchen. Eren noticed Jean’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, evidently trying to find words upon running into him so early in the morning.

Eren decided to fracture the awkward silence for them. “I stayed up late, so I could talk to you,” Eren began, sticking the knife in the peanut butter, “I’m sorry for earlier. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all. You’re right, I should mind my business.”

Jean took in his words, setting down his plastic bag and taking a seat at the eat-in kitchen island. He wore a look of mild surprise after Eren finished his statement. “Um, I’m sorry too,” he admitted, trying his best to meet Eren’s eyes through his confession. “And you were obviously worried about me and trying to be a friend, so you don’t have to mind your business. I was being a jackass.”

“It’s fine, I get it. We’re not cool like that, so I have no right to talk about shit I don’t know about.” Eren said, going back to making his sandwich.

Jean shrugged, feeling sheepish at the situation. “Look, we’ll just keep apologizing back and forth. We’re just not used to each other, and we always aggravate each other for no reason, so we just have to do better at trying to become friends and learn how to approach each other.”

Eren nodded, licking a smear of strawberry spread off his pointer finger. “Agreed,” he replied, gently placing his two slices of bread together to finish the sandwich. “But, I’m still sorry about the Reiner thing.”

Jean gave Eren a quizzical look. “Are you apologizing for having sex with your friend?”

“No!” Eren countered, “I’m apologizing because I probably put you in a weird position. You know, with Bertolt being your close friend and all.”

“Yeah, you kinda did,” Jean mumbled, watching Eren put away everything he used. “But it’s not your fault. You’re single, Reiner’s single, and people like to have sex. You can do whatever you want. Plus, it’s still none of my business.”

Eren frowned to himself, washing off the knife he used placing it back in the utensil drawer. He wished Jean sounded more upset about it. “I guess,” he said, picking up his sandwich. “It doesn’t matter though. I’m done with that hooking up shit anyway.”

Jean’s eyebrows rose in interest, leaning back in the chair. “What, you’re trying to settle down or something?”

Eren made sure to chew his bite of sandwich a little longer than necessary, trying to figure out how he wanted to respond. “No, not exactly. I’m just interested in someone, and satisfying my libido with Reiner isn’t gonna help that situation.”

“That’s understandable,” Jean said, placing his elbow on the counter and resting his face against his palm. “Do I know the guy you’re interested in?”

Eren and Jean’s eye contact suddenly felt heavy, Eren being the first one to look away so he could reach for his cup of milk. “Maybe, it’s a small world,” he answered after a sip. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I just wanted to tease you in case he was out of your league.” Jean quipped with a smile.

Eren paused mid-bite, narrowing his eyes at Jean’s smug expression, but also at himself. He wanted to kiss that look off Jean’s face. “Oh please, no one’s out of my league. Especially not him. He’d be honored to have me, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Jean listened with a smile, taking in the view of Eren finishing off his sandwich. “If you say so Jaeger,” he said, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Normally I’d stay up and prove you wrong, but I’m going to bed. I have to see my mom tomorrow.” He finished while standing up.

Eren nodded, after polishing off the rest of his milk. “Oh alright, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jean replied after placing his plastic bag in the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Eren responded, watching Jean retreat to his room.

After a while, Eren smiled. Not only satisfied by how their conversation went but content with where their relationship was possibly headed.

Jean wasn’t happy. Unsurprisingly, his mom was the cause of that. He usually enjoyed his Sunday’s, sticking to a routine by doing last minute homework, reading articles, doing laundry, straightening up his room and bathroom, and even catching up on television shows that he missed throughout the week. Now, he was at his mom’s dining room table waiting for her to bring out dessert after a foreseen omurice lunch. He enjoyed his favorite childhood meal, tasting as palatable as it did when he was a kid. He didn’t let the memories of himself being a chubby kid at the eat-in kitchen table practically begging for it after school overwhelm him. But now that dessert was on its way, he couldn’t help but feel perturbed, and suddenly want to scrub his toilet and vacuum the whole condo instead.

He already knew what dessert it was since he smelt it upon entering the house, a French apple pie. Jean hated how he could practically taste it on his tongue, the tender spiced apples and the buttery yet sweet streusel topping. It was usually accompanied with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, the warmth of the pie and the cold of the ice cream tantalizing his taste buds. Sweets were his thing as a kid and the memories of the holiday season were affiliated with the pie, but that wasn’t the reason why he was uneasy about her bringing it out.

The pie itself wasn’t even a trigger food of his. It was just that he knew what was coming next, a discussion or mediation of some sort. His mother made that pie when he was a kid and wanted to inform him that his parents were getting a divorce. As the food-engrossed kid that he was, he listened but didn’t really care. Especially since his father wasn’t that great to him anyway, having made offhanded and hurtful comments about his weight and not really paying much attention to him.

Then, it happened again after he graduated high school. After relatives from France were on planes to head back home and they cleaned up the house, she took out a pie. Even though Jean was still in his anorexia stage, he decided to appease her that day and eat a piece rather than chew it for the flavor and spit it into a trash can. When he was halfway through his slice, and taking a sip of water with bites to make himself feel fuller, she placed a brochure for an eating disorder rehabilitation center in front of him.

It stung. He knew that he was lying to his mother in the first place about doing better with his eating disorder after she found out about his bulimia. Anorexia wasn’t exactly an upgrade, but he considered it one. Less lying about why he was in the bathroom for long periods of time, why he bought a lot of and carried around mints and mouthwash, and the overall gross feeling he felt after purposely making himself sick by triggering his gag reflex. Starving himself to the point of light headedness and immense hunger pains was a lot simpler, but obviously not unnoticeable from his mother.

Jean immediately got mad at her that day, the two of them having a small shouting match over his health and what he was doing to himself. She gave him an ultimatum that night, go to the rehab center or she wasn’t going to pay for the parts of University that his scholarship didn’t cover and his car. Of course, he chose to go to the center and have financial stability, but that didn’t stop him from purposely sticking his fingers down his throat to rid his system of the pie. He did it out of spite to his mother and as a form of self-punishment, wondering why he thought it was okay to eat something as sugary and fattening as a slice of pie after a glance in the mirror.

Obviously, his mother only used that pie to confront him about dismal situations only twice in his life, but Jean also knew the sayings third time’s the charm and old habits die hard. So, as he watched her cut the pie, cutting an obviously large slice for himself coexisting with a plentiful scoop of vanilla ice cream, he knew that his mom was about to say something upsetting and most likely irritating.

She sat down across from him at the table with a smile, a spoon in her hand about to dig into her culinary creation. “Go on ahead Jean-bo, taste it and tell me what you think. I haven’t made it in so long, I wasn’t sure if it tastes like it used to.”

Jean hid his expression at her mentioning that she hadn’t made it in a long time, meaning that he wasn’t being over speculative to the situation. Nevertheless, he dug his spoon into the beginning of the slice, admiring the perfectly placed apple slices and browned streusel on his spoon. He sampled it, the flavors melding together perfectly on his tongue. It was as precise as he remembered it to be.

“It’s good ma,” he said, digging his spoon back into the slice. “You could never mess this up.”

“Thank you,” she replied, reaching for her tea cup. “Thank you for visiting me too. I know life is busy with school and having to move somewhere else.”

Jean shrugged, chewing his bite of the pie while reaching for his vanilla ice cream. “It’s no problem. I needed a mental break from all of it anyway.”

She nodded, setting her cup back down. “You said you’re living with Eren now? How is he? You guys don’t fight anymore, right?”

He let the cool vanilla dissipate on his tongue before he answered. “Yes, I’m living with him. He’s fine, still in school and stuff. And kinda, we don’t put our hands on each other anymore, but we still disagree from time to time.”

“Oh, well, that’s understandable. I’m sure you two will like each other better by the time you guys move out and back into your old places in a couple of months.”

He nodded, dreading that this small talk was leading up to something. “Yeah, it is, what it is.”

She gave Jean a small smile, enjoying the presence of her son and him eating her food again. “You know Jean-bo, you look really good. It looks like you’re finally putting weight on again. I was beginning to worry that rehab center didn’t work.”

Jean’s chewing slowed, looking at his mother and trying to hide his vexation. Bam, there it is. He remained silent, deciding to finish off the rest of his dessert out of courtesy.

She continued talking after a bite of pie. “The center was sending out letters for after patient check-ups, newsletters, and outside center group meetings to connect with others from the program. I thought you’d be interested.”

He downed the rest of his milk, giving her a vacant look from across the table. He set the glass down a little too hard against the hard wood, the noise causing his mother look at him worriedly. “Jean-bo, is everything alright?”

Jean sighed while leaning back in his chair, trying to quell the myriad of emotions seething through him. “Did you think I was interested because you thought I was starving myself again?” He asked, folding his arms. “Was this visit supposed to be an inspection of whether I’d started eating again and gotten fat, or if I’d lost more weight and back to my old ways? Because you could’ve just asked me over the phone, I didn’t have to visit for this.”

She briefly pressed her lips into a line, taken back by her son’s reaction. “I was just checking on you Jean-bo. I know recovery is a long road for something like this, and I was just worried. I wanted to see how you were doing. It’s easy to lie over the phone. I had to see for myself.”

He knew she was right about the last part. He would’ve lied about how he was doing. Technically, he still was. He skipped breakfast so he could eat this lunch, and his dinner was probably going to be small and low-calorie. Relapse was the norm in eating disorder recovery, not to mention it was supposed to be a five to seven-year path to normal eating habits. He’d only been recovering for a few years and relapsed more times than he could count. So, his mother was accurate in her proposition, but she didn’t have to go about it this way.

“Look ma, I’m doing well enough that I don’t need to go back to rehab. You said it yourself, I gained weight,” Jean said, internally cringing at his last words. “I’ll take the rehab center stuff back with me if that makes you feel better.”

“Please,” she said, reaching beneath her table placemat to pull out a couple of letters. “You look fine and gained weight, but I know when it comes to eating disorders it’s not that easy to spot. Especially after what happened in high school, I just want to be vigilant about this.”

Jean squirmed in his seat at the words weight and gain. It was starting to overwhelm him. Not to mention the way his mother pulled out those letters irritated him, showing that she was planning to ambush him about something all along. “I gotta go,” he said, standing up. “I told Marco I’d help him with something.” He lied, before kissing his mother on the cheek.

“Don’t you want to take some food or even offer some to Eren?”

He quickly shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. “No ma, I’m fine and he’s fine. I’ll try to visit sooner alright.”

She stood up, giving Jean a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. “Okay, just visit before your birthday.”

“Okay,” Jean mumbled, returning his mother’s hug before hustling his way out the front door with the letters stuffed in his jacket pocket.

He drove home in silence, feeling the weight of the letters in his pocket while biting the skin off of his lips. He was so zoned out that he barely remembered his drive home, fumbling with his keys once at the door more than necessary. It didn’t make it any easier that his hands were sweaty, his heart rate climbing, and the food that he ate earlier suddenly feeling uneasy in his stomach. Jean recognized this behavior, he was having a panic attack.

He hadn’t had one in years, but his mother brought him back to his old mental space. He was afraid of being overweight again. He knew he had gained weight from when he left the rehabilitation center, but he did his best not to think about it. Currently, his clothes still fit, his body looked slender, and face still held it’s angular, jawline rather than an added roundness. He wasn’t fat, but the idea of it happening again because he gained a little weight petrified him.

Once he was able to get inside, he made a beeline for his room, shutting the door and locking it just in case Eren was around. Jean sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his face in his hands while he tried his best to calm down. He took rhythmic deep breaths, trying to relax his whole body in order to gain his composure. He then tried to focus on something else, searching for things that made him happy or entertained him.

His mind fleeted over a couple of memories of him and Marco, the time he bought his car, the relief he felt moving out the house, and a couple days ago to when he and Eren had a good time hanging out. Little by little his heart rate descended, his breathing evened out, the feelings of dread vacated his body, and his sweat dried on his skin, causing him to shiver.

Jean sucked in one deep breath, running both hands through his hair. “Fuck.” He said, his own voice sounding foreign to him.

He sat up straight, suddenly make eye contact with his reflection in the mirror across from his bed. He then thickly swallowed, his mouth feeling dry but he stood up, walking towards the image casting back at him. Jean looked himself over from head to toe, knowing what he was about to do next was going to be bad for his health. But he was mentally ill, so he didn’t care.

He slowly stripped, taking off an article of clothing one after the other. It wasn’t until he was completely naked did he look in the mirror again. He looked thin, a couple of his ribs apparent through his pale skin and upper torso obviously lacking in muscle definition. He ignored his genitals and looked at his thighs, equally as muscle deficient and soft looking. Jean turned around, looking at his back with his visible spinal cord and modest butt.

He frowned at his appearance, pinching himself all over, grabbing loose skin in between his fingers and cringing at every inch of it. He felt disgusted with himself, disappointed with not only his failure at recovery but also at gaining weight. He felt large. He felt like the kid from high school, his clothes suffocating him, feeling the public’s eye on his every move since his weight was socially unacceptable, and just wanting to disappear into the seclusion of his room, with tears running down his cheeks and binge food by his side.

Before Jean knew it, he was crying. His cheeks wet, the saliva in his mouth thick, and his nose building with mucus. Through his tears, he grabbed a roll of toilet paper, trying to wipe his tears as fast as they were falling and climbed into bed. He put his television on, using it as background noise while he wiped his tears and gradually fell asleep.

Eren sipped at his chocolate banana protein shake, feeling the muscles in his arms twitch while he kept the cup at his lips. He and Reiner met up at the gym to work out, Eren lifting weights while Reiner did cardio. All throughout his workout, Eren was trying think of ways how to bring up the fact that Jean knew about their hook up from a few days ago. He also thought about not telling Reiner at all, considering Jean obviously wasn’t going to tell anyone and hadn’t even told Bertolt. Plus, he wasn’t even sure if Reiner would really even care since it wasn’t like they were hiding their hook ups, but they also weren’t spreading the word either.

He frowned to himself, his shake cup condensating in his hand. He wiped the collected droplets from his hand off on his pants after he set the cup down on the living room table. They were at Reiner and Bertolt’s place, with Reiner sitting next to him, obviously enthralled with a timed cooking show.

“Can you believe that dude actually thought he was going to make a successful bread pudding in thirty minutes?” Reiner said after a swallow of his own shake. “He definitely got beat by that girl and her deconstructed lemon bars.”

Eren nodded, folding his arms as he sank further into the couch to get comfortable. “Well, if he pulled it off, he would’ve been able to redeem himself for his overcooked strip steak.”

“That was honestly unredeemable,” Reiner remarked, his drink straw resting against his lips. “Plus, he basically set himself up for failure with his Asian fusion tacos from the appetizer round. He shouldn’t even be here right now in the final round.”

“Agreed,” Eren mumbled, losing interest in the show and feeling distracted by what he wanted to say. He grabbed his protein shake again, wrapping his lips around the straw while he watched commercials dance across the screen. After the break, the show returned, the judges making their choice after deliberating dishes from the current round and the last.

Reiner pumped his fist in the air when it was announced that the girl won. “Finally, the system prevails. Sometimes I’ll watch these cooking competition shows and they’ll get it completely wrong. But I also can’t taste the food, so I can’t judge.”

“Obviously. Not to mention you practically just cook chicken breasts, vegetables, and sometimes rice if your carbing up.”

“Glad you know me so well,” Reiner said, giving Eren a nudge with his shoulder and a smile. “But, since I know you so well, tell me what’s up. It looks like you’re thinking a little too hard. I wouldn’t want you to short-circuit.”

“Shut up,” Eren countered, nudging Reiner back. He then swallowed, deciding it was now or never. “I have something I need to tell you. It’s not terrible news or anything, but I just think you should know.”

Reiner’s eyebrows rose in interest at Eren’s words. “Alright, shoot.”

“It turns out Jean overheard us having sex the other day. He stopped by to get his textbook or something, and yeah.” Eren explained, watching Reiner for his reaction.

“Oh,” Reiner began, obviously taken aback by the news, “that’s not good. Do you know if he told anyone?”

“No, but he wouldn’t do that,” Eren answered with confidence. “Jean’s not like that. Plus, he would’ve done it already if he wanted to. Has Bertolt been acting strange or something?”

“No,” Reiner quickly assured, “it’s just that people aren’t usually good at keeping things like that secret. How’d it come up?”

Eren instantly grew sheepish, mentally recalling his and Jean’s fight. “I was in his business when I shouldn’t have been. In turn, he threw my business, which was me and you fucking, in my face. So, yeah.”

“Oh, well, how do you feel about Jean knowing about us? I know you’d rather him not know at all.”

Eren let out an aggravated sigh, his frown deepening. “I feel shitty about it. Like, if me and him ever got together, it’d be different if we talked about past sexual partners or whatever. But, for him to over hear us when that was our last hook up sucks.”

Reiner hummed in understanding. “It does. It’s pretty fucked up, not gonna lie. Sorry.” He finished, giving Eren a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine. There’s nothing I can do about it now,” Eren replied, watching the next episode of the cooking show begin. “Anyway, are we still having that party at my place for Ymir tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, shit, I guess so,” Reiner said after downing the rest of his protein shake. “Why does she think she always needs a welcome back get together? We get it, you’re in the Navy, you periodically visit, and you’ll most likely come back again in a few to several months.”

“Let her have it. I’m sure it gets boring working for your country. Besides, it gives our whole circle a chance to reconnect. That’s something we never really do anymore since we’re about to be in our third years in university.” Eren reassured.

“I guess so,” Reiner mumbled, becoming engrossed with the television show again. “Did you mention it to Jean?”

Eren rolled his eyes, realizing that’s what he forgot to do today. “Shit, no. I mean, I don’t think he’ll care since he doesn’t have class the next day after the get together anyway, but he can be difficult sometimes so who knows.”

“I think he’ll be cool. I’ll send a reminder text to everyone else while you talk it over with him.” Reiner suggested, resting his hands behind his head.

Eren nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “I guess that sounds good,” he responded, looking down at his watch, noticing that it was getting late. “I think I’m gonna head home now. I wanna run it past Jean sooner rather than later.”

“Sure, just let me know what’s up,” Reiner called from the couch, watching Eren turn the front door knob. “See ya later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eren called back, giving him a wave with the back of his hand.

Once he got to the car, he sighed in relief. Telling Reiner about the fact that Jean knew about them was one more thing checked off his list. On his way home, Eren pondered how he was going to bring up the party to Jean. He knew that Jean hated last minute shit, and not just because Jean had told him verbatim he hated last minute shit. It was obvious in the way that Jean planned a lot of his stuff, his planner looking well mapped out and devised. Not to mention he was a man of routine, so this party was going to definitely disrupt that.

Eren frowned the minute he stood outside his front door, knowing that Jean was home and he had to bring up the topic sooner rather than later. Upon opening the front door, the smell of florally scented cleaner and other disinfectants hit his nose. Jean was staying true to routine as predicted, cleaning up on a Sunday. Eren took his shoes off near the door, noticing the vacuumed lines on the floor.

He walked to the kitchen where Jean came into eye view and was washing dishes. Jean looked over his shoulder when he noticed Eren’s presence behind him, placing a mug on the drying rack on the other side of the sink.

“Hey,” Jean said, turning his focus back to the dishes.

“Hey,” Eren responded, setting his protein shake cup on the counter with his keys. “Um, are you busy right now? I wanted to run something by you.”

Jean shook his head in a negatory manner, running a soaped sponge over a plate. “What’s up?”

Eren took a seat at the eat-in kitchen island. “Remember that get together for Ymir we’re supposed to be having? I forgot that I agreed weeks ago that we could have it over here when we first moved in. So, do you mind?”

“No, it’s fine. The party would find its way over here somehow, so might as well just have it here.” Jean assured, cutting off the sink water and squeezing out the remaining liquid from the sponge. “It’s tomorrow, right? Why have a party on a Monday though?”

“I think that was Ymir’s decision. She wanted the party at the beginning of the week so it could be her kick-off to being back in town. You know how over the top she can be. Plus, she plans to spend most of her days with Historia, so after this, we’re pretty much not gonna see her often.”

Jean nodded in understanding, drying his hands with a towel. He folded it up and laid it down next to the sink on the counter. He turned around to face Eren, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. “Well, I finish classes in the afternoon tomorrow, so I guess I can help set up or whatever.”

Eren took in Jean’s appearance, noticing that he evidently looked a little off. He could easily put his finger on it, noticing that Jean was more covered up more than usual, long-sleeved shirt and long sweat pants. The heat was running in the condo since the winter weather made a quick return from its warm yet cool days to full blown chilly, so his attire wasn’t necessarily strange. Eren just thought it was strange to clean in, given how quickly someone could overheat while doing a whole bunch of house work.

What worried him the most was how puffy Jean’s eyes looked, showing the obvious signs of earlier crying. Eren was immediately befuddled when he noticed it, mentally noting that today was the day that Jean visited his mother. Familial meetings didn’t always go well and he knew Jean and his mother didn’t have the best relationship, but he was curious as to how their meeting could result in Jean’s tears.

Eren swiftly wanted to jump into friend mode and ask Jean to open up but he was able to refrain himself, their altercation from a day ago still fresh in his mind. He laced his fingers together instead, leaning back in his chair to appear nonchalant. “That’s fine, but you don’t have to. I’m sure I can get Armin, Mikasa, and Reiner or whatever to help out. Especially since you cleaned up and everything."

Jean had folded his arms, perceptive to the way Eren took in his appearance. He brushed it off, feeling more comfortable that Eren didn’t pester him like last time. “Alright,” he began, pushing his hip off the counter to stand up straight, “I’m gonna go do some homework and then go to bed, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eren looked at the oven clock past Jean, seeing that is was still moderately early, the clock just striking seven. He ignored it, knowing that Jean probably felt shitty and wanted to go to bed early. “Did you eat dinner already?”

“Yes,” Jean lied, walking out the kitchen. “Don’t make too much of a mess making yours.” He reminded Eren from the hallway.

Eren made a face at Jean’s back, but he understood since it was obvious Jean worked hard. “Goodnight!” Eren called from his seat in the kitchen.

“Night!” Jean answered, closing his room door immediately after.

Eren propped his elbow on the counter, resting his face against his palm in thought. He wanted to seriously be there for Jean, but it seemed like a daunting task every time the two of them came into contact. The idea that the two of them one day would be able to talk about their feelings and problems to each other was nowhere within reach. It was the most apparent when Jean quickly left, the two of them acknowledging Jean’s puffy eyes and pale skin, yet both completely overlooking it in order to avoid the conflict a confrontation would bring.

It severely bothered Eren since it was obvious that Jean was going through something. It wasn’t like Jean was the most put together person that never seemed to be going through something, but with Jean being the slight pretty boy that he was, when he looked hellish it meant something. Whether or not Eren was ever going to find out what that something was, was a mystery. But it was only a matter of time before Eren’s friend mode mixed with crush mode overcame him and he was begging Jean to let down his personal walls and let him into his life.

He wasn’t exactly certain how, but he sure as hell knew he wasn’t a quitter, and he wasn’t afraid of trying and failing. Eren wasn’t marked by Jean as a suicidal bastard for nothing. He figured it was time to live up to the title.

#erejean #jeaneren #jean kirschstein #eren jaeger #fic: rette mich

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