Perched in the dark
Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear
Like it could be love
I could be the way forward
Only if they pay for it
Nights on the boat were stretched on in the bitter silence. It had been nearly a year and a half of floating back and forth between the rubble, trying to help where they could, and nearly two years since the Battle of Heaven and Earth. And yet things felt too easy now, Jean had decided. Even if their place in this world—as both Eldians and the faction that brought down Eren—was uncertain, the disappearance of the titans made it all feel more peaceful. And yet the silence was equally as unbearable. The thoughts tearing apart his mind only sounded louder now.
Jean had been staring up at the bunk bed above him for what had to have been hours, listening as Connie snored loudly. It was oddly nostalgic, all being forced into these cramped living quarters like they were cadets again. But back then, his evenings were spent talking to Marco until they both became too exhausted to talk any longer. Or teasing Bertolt for the odd ways he slept. They were spent picking fights with Eren over his suicidal dreams—and look where that had brought him.
He made his way out of the bed, head knocking against Connie’s bunk with a wince. Were these that much smaller than it had been during their cadet days or had the years really changed them that much? In the dark he could see a tuft of blonde hair on the top bunk across the room, Armin fast asleep after a day of strategizing the diplomatic efforts and drafting dozens of letters to world leaders. The bunk below, though, was left untouched.
Reiner had been meant to sleep there, that was the original plan. The women shared the smaller room, just two bunks for Pieck and Annie, while the men all piled into the old storage space. Not one night, though, in the year and a half they had been here had Reiner even come into the room for more than the few moments it took to change clothes.
Jean wouldn’t complain about that, if Reiner wanted to freeze out in the deck or curl his body into the small loveseat in the dining area it was his prerogative. The door would always be unlocked just in case.
It meant, though, that as Jean slipped out of the room and to the deck for fresh air, he wasn’t surprised to see the former warrior leaning against the railing. His form was only a shadow—but it was a figure that after these years Jean could recognize easily.
Reiner had been a man crafted from war itself, his body a testament to everything the warrior and scout training could force into a child’s body. He had been large and imposing, broad shoulders and defined arms, that only matched the harsh lines of his facial structure. He had been angular and muscular those years ago.
Now, even Jean could tell the way he softened. Days spent in meetings or wasting time on the boat instead of training had rounded his form, making him look less threatening at first glance. Of course he was still strong, Jean had seen him once accidentally break the handle off of one of the boat’s cooking knives by using too much force. While it was amusing to read the letter Niccolo had sent chewing him out, it was a clear reminder that despite how oddly domestic and docile Reiner had become over time, he still had been the Armored Titan. He still had been a threat.
It was this Reiner, with rough edges sanded down over the years, that Jean felt far more comfortable to stand beside, to look down into the dark sea and comment idly, “Stars look nice at least.”
Reiner tilted his head up to see, and nodded, “When the moon’s out you can usually see the reflection in the water. Not too bad.” This was the way their conversations usually went when they were alone. All casual and friendly enough, but beneath it all there was something else. Jean couldn’t tell still if Reiner hated him, feared him, or pitied him. Or whether it was the same unnameable mix of feelings that stirred in Jean’s stomach whenever he saw the blonde.
After a moment of silence, with only the whip of the cold wind and the lulling of the sea, Reiner stepped away from the railing with a quiet but resolute, “See you tomorrow.”
“You tired?” Jean didn’t look back as Reiner began to walk away, listening to the padding of his boots against the deck, “Or are you afraid of me, Braun?” He hadn’t meant to ask that question, but somewhere in the darkness it fell from his lips.
“Of course not,” Reiner finally spoke again after a moment of decision.
“Convincing,” Jean snorted as he relaxed against the railing, his upper body leaned far over the edge just the smell the sea, in hopes it would help the sleep come easier, “You don’t have to run away from me, I’m not gonna beat the shit out of you.”
“You could if you wanted.” From the corner of his eye, Jean could see Reiner by his side again, back pressed to the railing. His face was still covered in shadow, but Jean thought he could see the glint of those softened hazel eyes.
“Did that already,” Jean laughed emptily as he stood up fully now, “Didn’t help much.”
“Right…” Reiner trailed off, wringing his hands together as his eyes drifted somewhere beyond where Jean stood. Jean could notice now how close the two were, feeling like if he leaned in just a touch more the sleeves of their nightshirts would brush against each other.
He couldn’t help the way his body changed, any anger or frustration falling away. Jean hadn’t moved past everything that had happened, not by a long shot, but dredging up Marco’s death any time he and Reiner were alone felt fundamentally wrong. Marco had deserved a peaceful death, one far better than the one he received. And Jean would not unearth his corpse over and over as a symbol of revenge anymore, not after he and Reiner had stood by one another to stop the Rumbling. Despite it all, though, Reiner still seemed to cling to that moment and the guilt, the string tying together what remained of a broken warrior.
Gently, Jean knocked his knuckles against Reiner’s temples, so tense his veins were visible, “Hey stupid, wanna have a better conversation?”
“Yeah, please.” The tension fell from his face too with a shuddered laugh. Reiner shook his head and blinked a few times, an action that had become quite the pattern. Jean noticed him do it whenever they talked too deeply of the past, and most times it seemed to remind the warrior the past was no longer happening around him.
Jean could feel the other’s eyes looking at him, expectantly. Sure, he was the bigger chatterbox of the two, but that didn’t mean he knew what to say in that exact moment. So instead, he snorted and raised a brow, “I think we’re doing fucking stellar at the better conversation.”
“Oh,” Reiner’s eyes lit up for a moment as he padded down the side of his pants before realizing something and shaking his head, “Left it inside. But Gabi and Falco wrote to everyone. A letter for each of us—when we docked last time for supplies, Onyakopon gave them all to me to pass out and—” He didn’t need to say that he forgot, enough was going on in the world that simple things like that slipped nearly everyone’s mind.
It felt like this moment had happened long ago, and only then was Jean reminded of it. Reminded of the insistence a barely conscious, amputated, defeated Reiner had to still deliver Ymir’s letter. How he seemed to care so little if he lived or died provided that he could still honor her dying promise. How vulnerably human he was. For so long that memory had haunted Jean, mostly because he had persuaded Hange to let the bastard live. He would stay awake at night and wonder if Reiner had been murdered then if things would have been better off in the world.
Now, standing by Reiner’s side and trying to force the same familiar chit-chat they had when they were cadets, Jean doubted the blonde’s death would have made the world a better place.
“They’re doing okay?” Jean asked. A twinge of concern and care struck through him for the two children, so worn down by war and only now getting a chance to live the lives they were meant to live.
“Yeah,” Reiner smiled, the smile actually reaching his eyes as warmth coming to his face for the first time in weeks, “They’re staying with Levi for a bit, who knows how long. Gabi says that he acts like he doesn’t like having them around but deep down likes having those two maniacs around. Somehow that makes sense, I mean you know Gabi and Falco.”
“Captain put up with all of us for long enough,” Jean reminded, an elbow digging into his soft side.
Reiner’s smile faltered only for a moment before he shook his head again, “Didn’t really put up with me, did he?”
Jean shrugged, trying to lighten the conversation once more, “He would’ve.”
Silence stretched between them again, and Jean could barely feel the pull of sleep now. He wanted to stay here, in this easy conversation, the peaceful silence, for longer than he had expected. Still staring out to the inky sea, he tried to think of something to say, something to keep them in this ease.
“I actually don’t really know them,” he said plainly.
“What?” Reiner responded with a huff of air, obviously confused by what Jean had been trying to say.
Turning to face Reiner fully now, Jean leaned against the railing with his side and let his head drop into his palm, “You said, ‘you know Gabi and Falco’, I don’t. Not really, I mean I knew them those few days,” God, had it really been days? , “But not really besides that.”
"Oh,” Reiner’s brow furrowed as he nodded, still not following the breadcrumbs of a conversation the former scout had left.
“So tell me about them—you’ve known them since they were kids, gotta be some good stories,” Jean waved a hand, inviting Reiner to talk.
And talk he did. It took a few minutes of stumbling through vague descriptions of the now-teenagers when they were toddlers and both cute and menaces at once. Eventually, though, Reiner found a story he could tell—something about Gabi stealing his mother’s jewelry and hiding it at the bottom of the produce basket as a prank. It was silly and unimportant, but it was the first time in a long while that Jean saw some life and vibrancy come back to Reiner.
That story bled into another and another about Reiner’s own life, glossing over the darkness that had underpinned it all in favor of stories like the one of him deciding that ‘goober’ was the worst word any four-year-old could possibly say. And eventually the mic was passed to Jean who through embarrassed laughter and worn sighs told about what a diva he had been as a kid, told about the genius of his mother’s cooking, of the family dog, Matilda, they had who had passed when he was only six.
They talked like this for well over an hour, and Jean could feel everything else slip away, the threat of violence, the past pain inflicted, all of it. Instead, they just became two estranged friends unearthing the common group they used to have. It was nice; that was the only real way that Jean could describe it. Chatting with Reiner, spending time with him, it was nice.
Finally the pair both found themselves yawning and bodies leaning more onto the railing for support.
“Time to turn in?” Jean asked, rubbing at his eyes. He had no sense of what time it was, but given the sun hadn’t risen yet they still had a few hours to sleep.
“Think so,” Reiner responded, standing stiff before fumbling out, “This was nice.”
Nice. There was that word again, rattling through his mind and chest as he looked over at the blonde. He looked exhausted, under-eye bags dark and the whites of his eyes bloodshot. But he still wore a half smile, honest and well….nice.
“Yeah,” Jean nodded and reached out to give him a pat on the shoulder, meeting his eyes for a moment. He wanted to say something, say that he forgave him—but no, that would be a lie—say that he understood him, say that he surprisingly enjoyed his presence. No vulnerable words formed, in their place he just said, “Go curl up on that tiny ass couch.”
The sentimentality was broken as Reiner laughed, almost as brightly as he had when they had first known each other, “Okay, whatever you say, cadet.”
“Hey, I was a commanding officer dipshit. Give me some respect,” Jean punched gently at his shoulder again, wearing a false indignant expression over his amusement—this really was nice.
“Sure that's nice and all, but I ranked higher so,” Reiner used his hand to push Jean’s off with a slightly too-smug expression. Maybe Jean would have taken up the earlier offer to beat the shit out of him if he hadn’t become keenly aware of the touch. He couldn’t say why that light brush of their palms made him pause but it had.
So instead he settled on shaking his head with an exasperated sigh, "You know I can't tell whether your worse when you've got all your self-hating shit or when you're a smarmy asshole."
Reiner laughed, really laughed at that. It made Jean only chuckle softly back. By the time he opened his mouth to say something more, Reiner was already at the door and heading back inside with a wave behind him and a still tentative, “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see you then.” Though whether Reiner had meant during their daily meetings or for another bout of conversation tomorrow night Jean didn’t know—and perhaps he didn’t truly care. Perhaps it would be just nice to see Reiner again.
You're a bandit like me
Eyes full of stars
As it happened, Reiner had meant only the daily meetings. So when Jean appeared in the middle of the night by the blonde’s side again with dry, “Fancy seeing you here,” it was a clear surprise.
It didn’t seem like an unwelcome one, though.
For once, Reiner didn’t begin the conversation with grunt or worse, an apology. Instead, Jean saw his face turn brighter somehow. He then launched after only a slight nudge into a short but oddly passionate diatribe about their discussion that day. Jean had paid little attention, it was all about how best to support the reconstruction of trampled cities. Armin had debated both sides of the argument: Do you rebuild a replica of what was destroyed or allow for a new city to take its place?
In Jean’s opinion, the people who lived there should decide and their group should have no say—but Armin had insisted they needed to include some sort of suggestion to bring to the table when they eventually met with the respective leaders.
“I mean, even if you put everything back in place it wouldn’t be the same city anymore,” Reiner continued on, “It would just be empty.”
“City for ghosts?” Jean suggested, his knuckles rapping against the metal railing in the pattern of song he had learned growing up.
“Yeah something like that,” Reiner waved his hand as the vibrancy he had dulled back into his usual attitude, “Nobody will be able to live their lives and move on if there is always a reminder of what was.”
“Surprising comment coming from you.”
“Yeah,” Reiner blinked a few times, almost surprised himself, “Suppose I turned over a new leaf.”
“Sure, I’ll believe it when I see it, Braun.”
With little else to say, Jean continued to tap away at the song in his head. After a few moments, he heard a low noise from beside him.
Reiner was still looking out across the water with the same sad expression he always wore, but now with a quirk of his lip as he hummed along to the melody.
“Didn’t realize you knew it,” Jean raised an eyebrow as he elbowed the blonde’s side, “Come on, sing it for us.”
“Us?” Reiner stopped his humming with a confused breath of laughter.
“Yeah. Me, you, whatever the fuck’s swimming in the sea,” Jean’s drumming became louder as he smiled, hoping it would goad Reiner into singing. He remembered they had sung some stupid tunes their cadet corp had created during training—remembered how badly everyone sang it out, but how much of a relief it was from the ache of their bodies.
This time though, Reiner sang low and soft. He was pensive and careful, almost, as if he were pouring the lyrics from deep inside, “The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly ’tis speaking the wind through it playing has language for me. Whenever its branches the sunlight is breaking, a host of kind faces is gazing on me. The friends of my childhood again are before me,” as the song became higher, Jean could hear a crack in his voice. He hoped it was only because of the pitch, “Each step wakes a memory as freely I roam. With soft whispers laden the leaves rustle o’er me. The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.”
Now wearing a pair of bright red cheeks, Reiner stopped. He gulped visibly and shook his head, “Sorry.”
Frowning, Jean stopped his drumming as well, “Don’t be. You don’t sound half bad. I mean you got the lyrics wrong but—”
“What?” Reiner’s embarrassment disappeared completely as he scoffed. Well, at least Jean now knew for certain that teasing the warrior was a surefire way to pull him from his never-ending cycle of apologizing.
“Uh yeah?” Jean stepped closer, poking his finger into Reiner’s now puffed-out chest, “Nice words, but those aren’t the lyrics.”
Reiner raised an eyebrow, so easily baited into a nonsense argument, “Alright then horse-face, if you’re so smart why don’t you tell me what the lyrics are?”
And Jean was just as easily baited. This time, he kept his finger against Reiner’s chest, tapping there. Idly, he wondered when he became so comfortable being this close to Reiner. He didn’t dwell on it though, no, he had a point to prove.
“Down yonder green valley, where strumpets meander, when twilight is fading, I pensively roam. Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander, amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove. It was there, while the blackbird was cheerfully singing, I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart. Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing, ah, then little thought I how soon we should part,” Jean’s voice lighter and airy as he sang, always trying to find the pitch and never quite getting there, fully expecting Reiner to make some comment about it.
He didn’t expect Reiner to smile, cheeks still red, and nod, “I like your lyrics better.”
Jean realized now how actually close they were, and heard his own heartbeat in his ears. Again, he would far rather ignore it, so he smacked the back of his hand against Reiner’s strong chest, and returned to his previous place against the railing, “Damn straight.”
They settled back into their now comfortable silence before Reiner sucked in a breath like he was going to speak. After waiting a moment to see if he would, Jean nudged his arm again, “Just say it, you oaf.”
“Could you sing again?” The request seemed to spill out. Reiner backtracked quickly though, “Sorry, it’s just…it’s nice to hear someone sing again I guess.”
“Your mom sing a lot?” Jean meant it as a joke but then saw Reiner look away. He hadn’t meant to touch a nerve. After all, “My mom did too.”
He could see Reiner’s shoulders relax a bit at that. Another thing to add to the ongoing list Jean had of understanding Reiner Braun: mommy issues. He couldn’t blame him, though, not really. Everything he had heard from the other former warriors, Karina Braun didn’t seem like all that kind or nice of a woman.
Jean would oblige, just this once, and only because it gave him an odd sense of peace and normalcy too. By no means was it because it had made Reiner seem less terribly sad for a moment, or because the way his cheeks had flushed had stirred something in Jean.
So Jean sang once more, and then again, and again. He sang until he had exhausted all his childhood songs that existed beyond a vague memory of a melody. And after each tune, he and Reiner argued again over the lyrics. Some were just small differences, others entirely different verses.
Nevertheless, it felt easy to bicker like this, like any of it mattered. The last time they had argued, it had ended with Reiner’s face bashed in. Now his face was painted red not by blood, but by what Jean swore couldn’t have been a blush.
As they were arguing over the difference between ‘then’ and ‘again’ in one of the songs, Jean yawned loudly. Reiner’s hand patted the space between his shoulder blades with a teasing, “Time to head back to the stables?”
“Asshole,” Jean dug his elbow into Reiner’s side halfheartedly. He notices the way Reiner’s palm is still pressed against him, the warmth and comfort of it. As soon as he notices, it’s gone.
Jean swallowed the lump in his throat, still not sure why it was there to begin with, “At least I actually sleep in a bed not,” he waved his hand aimlessly, “Wherever the fuck you go off to.”
“Right,” Reiner just shrugged at that.
“Why don’t you sleep in your bed?”
He only receives silence as a response.
Jean waits another moment before turning on his heels, “Don’t bitch to us about your back problems if you keep it up like this, then.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.” Even with his back turned, he could hear the smile in Reiner’s voice.
As he tucked into bed, Jean could still feel the pressure of his hand, still hear the softness of his singing voice, still imagine his gentle expression and flushed cheeks. Indulging in the memories of only moments before made sleep come easier, at least.
Hustling for the good life
Never thought I'd meet you here
The next night, Reiner had been expecting him. And the night after that. And on and on, until Jean realized it had been nearly four months of nightly conversations with the former warrior. Four months of bearing the bitter cold to stand by an old enemy and just talk.
They had talked about everything from their daily strategy planning, to their hometowns, from their dreams, to their families. Sometimes the talks were bright and airy, Jean thinking it could have been the sort of conversations they would have had in training. Others, though, ended with Jean letting his hand rest on top of Reiner’s as the older man cried, or the blonde’s reassuring touch to his back as Jean tried to tear at his hair.
Still, there were three names they never discussed: Marco, Bertolt, and Eren. Once while they reminisced about the bullshit from their cadet days, Jean had let Marco’s name slip. All he received in return was silence and Reiner suddenly becoming too tired to stay outside and talk anymore. So now neither brought it up.
There had been so much he hadn’t known about Reiner, so much he hadn’t thought about. And likewise, Jean knew that he kept his own emotions closer to his chest under the bravado of confidence. It felt like finally Jean was actually seeing Reiner, not the lying cadet, or the Armored Titan, but the man that had always been there waiting to be noticed. And in his own way, Reiner returned the favor. Sure, Jean had felt seen before by someone, felt known. But that person’s ashes were long lost to the wind. Reiner was alive, though. He was here every night listening to Jean’s rambles, and Jean would do the same for him. He was sturdy and steady in a way Jean hadn’t known he wanted.
During one evening, Jean had laid his usual comforting hand on top of Reiner’s as the other spoke about his father. As Reiner continued to talk, their hands became interlaced, a comforting squeeze there to support. He hadn’t meant much but the gesture, at least he didn’t think he did. But as the night had continued, and the conversation moved to something more lighthearted, their hands still stayed firmly intertwined.
Hours after, Jean was left staring at the bunk above him with a million questions racing through his mind. How had Reiner somehow become one of the people Jean wanted to occupy his time? Since when did he carve out a place in his life to hold hands and talk into the night withhim? When did he start craving Reiner’s presence, of someone who understood things Jean could never express?
He tossed and turned in his sheets before the sobering realization washed over him. Jean Kirstein fell asleep that night surprised, but certain, that he had romantic feelings for one Reiner Braun.
It could be love
We could be the way forward
And I know I'll pay for it
And the old men that I've swindled
Really did believe I was the one
The weeks continued to pass, each conversation or card game played now holding much more weight for Jean. After all, he couldn’t help but notice more—how Reiner’s eyes crinkled when his smiles were real, how he would bite the inside of his cheek and tap his fingers against his leg when he wanted to talk but was’t sure what to say. He couldn’t help but wonder if Reiner had noticed the same, noticed the small quirks Jean had that he could never identify in himself. And then he couldn’t but feel a warmth spread through him at the idea of being understood and known like that by Reiner. It felt so juvenile the way it made him happy, so silly and—
“Stupid,” Jean whispered as he shook his head.
“Sorry,” Reiner’s unnecessary apology was immediate.
“No, not you just….” Jean trailed off as he waved his hand by his head, “Thinking.”
Reiner nodded in understanding—he always did that, Jean had begun to notice. Even if Jean was spouting off about something Reiner shouldn’t be interested in, or something he didn’t know, he always made a point to listen, to let Jean know he was listening.
With an exaggerated sigh, Jean sat down against the railing, mind still busy. Perhaps falling for Reiner wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, perhaps it would be okay and he could go on pretending like those feelings didn’t make his stomach do flips, perhaps they could just stop talking and return to the semblance of normalcy they had before, perhaps—
Reiner’s hand was on his now, sitting beside him wearing a concerned expression, “Are you okay?”
Jean couldn’t stop himself from intertwining their fingers again and squeezing lightly, “Yeah I’m fine.”
“Sure,” Reiner was clearly unconvinced by it all, but he didn’t press. And yet Jean still felt the need to say something, to reassure him.
“Just thinking is all, feelings or whatever,” Jean knew his voice was soft, knew his face was turning red. He could only hope that Reiner wasn’t looking too closely.
“Mikasa?”
Admittedly, Jean hadn’t been thinking of her at all recently. She made it clear in no uncertain terms that while she supported the peace efforts that she would not be a part of the discussions. All they had heard was that she was safe in Paradis, trying to figure out what to do with her life.
“I mean,” Reiner’s voice pulled Jean back from his thoughts, “You still love her, right?”
Jean wanted to shake him in that moment, hold up their joined hands and ask him if he seriously thought that. Instead all he could do was shrug, “I don’t know, we’ve all been through a lot it’s hard to say. Guess that’s what I was thinking about. I mean, do you still love Historia?”
Reiner was silent for a moment and Jean knew that he had overstepped whatever blurred line existed between them. That was until he hear Reiner’s quiet chuckle, “Guess I don’t know either.”
Silence sat with them, Jean feeling the pad of Reiner’s thumb rubbing across the back of his hand.
“She’s still a beautiful woman,” Reiner finally continued, “I mean yeah, still a goddess for what’s she’s done, and any man would be lucky to have her as his wife. And I’m sure she’s a great mother, and— “
“So you do still love her,” Jean interrupted, wondering why he even asked the question in the first place. He wouldn’t be totally heartbroken if Reiner still loved her, but there certainly would be a sting that ached inside of him for a long time over it.
“No, I don’t,” Reiner’s hand felt warmer against Jean’s as he waited for the blonde to saying something more, say anything that would clarify what was going on, “I don’t know if I did, now that I think about it. I still admire her a shit ton, but….”
Jean let his thumb now massage Reiner’s hand, a silent plea for him to keep talking. “Ymir called it out.”
“Ymir?” Now that gave Jean pause, more questions in his mind from which Ymir Reiner meant and what it was she ‘called out’.
“Our Ymir.” It sounded like Reiner was careful with his words now, and Jean held his breath as he still tried to piece together what he meant. “Maybe it’s ‘cause she was too that she just knew and…yeah.”
Jean let the confusion and silence stay for a moment longer before asking directly, “Knew what?”
He could feel Reiner’s hand tense in his own, “That I probably would never marry someone like Historia. That I could never really love her.”
Oh. That could mean a dozen different things, Jean knew that logically. But with their hands laced together, after weeks of long late night conversations, he couldn’t help but let himself wonder.
He was silent for a bit too long though, Reiner laughing nervously beside him, “You aren’t going to make this weird are you?”
“Nah, that’s more your thing,” Jean gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he continued, hoping he hadn’t read the entire situation wrong. “Besides I get it.”
“You do?” Reiner’s voice was softer with each word. It itched under Jean’s skin, made him want to run away or pull Reiner closer.
He did neither though and just continued to sit, with only a nod as a response.
The sound of water beneath them made the still in the conversation more bearable until Reiner’s voice cut through with the terrible question, “Did you love him?”
“Yeah,” Jean didn’t bother pretending, he knew all too well that Reiner would have seen through it, “Didn’t realize for a while but….”
“I’m sorry,” Reiner’s grasp tightened and Jean didn’t need to look over to know he was wearing a tortured expression.
“I told you to stop apologizing.”
“Right.” Jean could hear Reiner sucking in a shallow breath. He reached his other hand over and let it rest on their clasped one, a small life line to offer.
“I loved him too,” Reiner sounded choked up, and as much as Jean wanted to wipe the tears and hold him, he only gave another squeeze of his hands, “Not him.”
“Your him.” He didn’t need to ask who the blonde meant, that much was clear. He finally looked over to see the tears welling in Reiner’s eyes, see him nod in confirmation.
The pair stayed that way for a while longer. Jean eventually felt Reiner’s head fall against his shoulder, their sides pressed to each other. Jean leaned his head over too, resting until he could smell the shampoo Reiner must have used that morning. Absentmindedly, he wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning with his face buried in the blonde locks.
“We should go to bed,” Reiner finally said, not moving his head an inch from Jean’s shoulder. It would be fine to fall asleep like this, Jean decided, two sad men wasting the night away over what might have been and what could be now.
Or they could go to sleep as usual, wake up and hope to have a better day. Frankly, Jean preferred the latter.
He stood, one hand still interlaced with Reiner’s, trying to pull him up, “C’mon, let’s go. And don’t think about sleeping on the couch or the floor or whatever, you have a bed—use it.”
Something odd washed across Reiner’s eyes as they looked at one another. If Jean allowed himself to dream, it’d think it was affection, think it was something akin to love.
“If you’re twisting my arm about it, fine,” Reiner feigned annoyance as he joined Jean, still close by his side.
“Not twisting your arm, just holding your hand,” Jean blinked as soon as the words came out. Neither of them had acknowledged it over the past few weeks, but now Jean was putting a spotlight onto the question. A question that was probably best left undiscussed for the night.
He half expected Reiner to pull away, not at all thinking that Reiner’s other hand would come to rest on Jean’s wrist, calloused fingertips pressed against where Jean’s pulse was quickening. And he hadn’t expected Reiner to just laugh under his breath and say, “Yeah, guess you are.”
By the time the pair walked back to the bedroom, Jean could feel his palm sweaty. It was as if everything from the evening hit him at once, the realization that perhaps he wasn’t imagining the tiny spark between them that was being watched over, that he hadn’t dreamt up the gentleness with which Reiner spoke to and touched him.
They dropped hands before heading inside, Connie was likely still asleep but with Armin it was always hard to tell. Jean didn’t need to be peppered with questions he still couldn’t answer himself.
“Night.” He heard as he settled in the whisper from across the room. Glancing over, Reiner had finally gone to sleep in bed for once. How nice it would be to slip into the bed beside him and fall asleep with their hands tied together.
And the ladies lunching have their stories about
When you passed through town
The next day felt like a blur of reviewing documents and talking. It seemed that every time Jean looked up from his papers, Reiner was in his vision, working as well. But there had been a few moments when they both looked up at each other in the same moment, when the long stretch of the table between them disappeared and he could reach out to hold his hand once more. Those moments were brief, though, and just enough for Jean’s stomach to twist in knots thinking about the night. They would have to talk about it, and it was a conversation Jean wasn’t certain he was ready to have.
Before stepping out onto the deck that evening, Jean had taken out from the cupboard two glasses and a bottle of whiskey they had bought at the last port. He didn’t know nearly enough to say whether it was quality, but he did know that it would be the liquid courage he was after.
He clinked the glasses against the bottle as he came outside, Reiner’s head turning around to look. Jean heart tightened at how beautiful he looked against the darkened sky.
“We’ll be docking soon so we can get some more, so why not,” Jean came to stand beside him, close enough their shoulders were touching. He passed Reiner a glass and poured just over two fingers worth of whiskey in each glass.
“Thanks,” Reiner met his gaze with an unreadable emotion behind his eyes, “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Jean clinked the glasses together, his eyes wandering across the sea, mind trying to figure out how best to start the conversation.
“No, no, you have to look at me the whole time, Kirstein.” Reiner was laughing, a ringing baritone that made Jean’s face heat up.
“Or else what?” Jean looked over with a raised brow as he lifted his glass again.
“Seven years of bad sex,” Reiner clinked the glasses together, leaving Jean to just shake his head in amusement. He couldn’t tell if Reiner was flirting with him or whether he was just being an idiot—perhaps both.
“Didn’t realize you were planning on having sex anytime soon.” He’d meant to take small sip but somewhere in thinking about Reiner making love to someone, to him, the sip became two large mouthfuls.
Glancing, he could see the alcohol flush already peppering the blonde’s cheeks, voice filled with an overdramatized wistfulness, “Can’t a man hope?”
Jean snorted, hoping to hide the redness behind his glass as he downed the rest. He poured himself another and leaned against the railing. He knew he should say something, start the conversation about whatever it was happening between him. But it feel odd to say something now, not after what Reiner had just said.
So instead he settled for the easy, “So what’d you think about today?” which launched them both into more discussions around the plans, around where they would dock next in just under a month.
The conversation flowed easily from there, as did the liquor. Jean filled his glass again a few more times, hoping it would settle the nerves that were lighting his skin ablaze. Reiner hadn’t been helping, standing far closer than normal, reaching out to rest his hand on Jean’s arm as they spoke and drank. It made Jean want to throw the glasses out into the sea and pull Reiner into a kiss right there. He knew better, though, knew they had to talk.
Somewhere in the midst of it all, Jean had passed the point of tipsy, and Reiner had taken the glass away. Jean settled himself that the conversation wouldn’t happen, that he had wasted a night too anxious about what the blonde would say to ever hear out the truth.
Looking over at Reiner, he saw the redness on his cheeks, the silent question clear in his eyes. Oh, maybe Jean didn’t need to ask or talk about it. Maybe they both just were looking for a reason.
Reiner was close now—very close. The pair were practically touching noses at this point and where a sober Jean may have pulled away and brushed it off, his current whiskey-addled brain encouraged his hands to trail up until his fingers brushed the blonde tufts at the nape of his neck.
He could feel Reiner tense beneath his touch. Jean couldn’t help but wonder if it was because it was his hand threading through his hair or whether the nape was still a sensitive place. He’d intended to ask about it, about the nape, but instead a different question tumbled out, “Would you wanna kiss me Reiner?”
The air hung heavy between them as Jean waited, his heartbeat overwhelmingly loud in his ears. Reiner hadn’t said anything yet, only continue to stare with gentle eyes and pink cheeks. Jean came close to pushing him away, trying to make some joke out of it. Before he could, he felt the featherlight pressure of the blonde’s hand against the small of his back.
“Very much,” Reiner admitted, his words tinged with a shy embarrassment that Jean couldn’t help but blush at.
His lips parted expectantly, it turning into a frown a few seconds later as he saw Reiner make no move to kiss him, “Then do it.”
“You’re drunk,” Reiner looked nervous almost as Jean felt the press of his hand bringing them closer.
“So are you,” Jean countered with a raise of his eyebrow, fingers still dancing across the back of the blonde’s neck. He knew what he was saying was really bullshit—Reiner had just a glass of the whiskey, meanwhile Jean had easily four.
The teasing worked well enough as Reiner shook his head with a chuckle. Jean tried to push his luck again, leaning in until their lips were only a breath apart, “Come on, Braun, kiss me.”
Reiner paused before repeating, “You’re drunk,” and then much more softly, “I don’t want our first kiss to be when you’re drunk.”
And if that didn’t make Jean’s breath catch. Maybe Reiner had sleepless nights too, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if Jean’s heart had been beating so loudly too. Maybe Reiner too had been walking this dangerous tightrope of understanding what the other wanted.
So Jean leaned in, not for a kiss but to let his head rest on his broad shoulders. He tilted his chin until he was nuzzled up against Reiner’s stubble. “So what do you want it to be?”
He could feel Reiner’s pulse against his skin quicken, “If I tell you it’s not going to be a surprise.”
“Didn’t think you would like surprises.”
“No, but you would.”
Jean grinned at that, drunkenly giggling as he said, “What can I say, surprises are romantic.”
“Okay,” Jean continued after a pause and a snort, “Maybe not all of your surprises have been romantic. Actually most I’d say were anti-romantic sort of surprises.”
Thankfully that made Reiner laugh just a bit, his fingertips ghosting across Jean’s back. Closing his eyes, Jean could feel himself getting lulled to sleep by the sensation, by Reiner’s warmth and the comfort of their bodies pressed against each other. It could have been minutes or hours before he finally felt a poke to his back.
“Can’t let you fall asleep like this, Kirstein.” His voice was so close to Jean’s ear it sent shivers through his body.
Jean pulled out of the hug just enough to smirk with barely-opened eyes, “What? Don’t wanna hold me while I sleep?”
“Not while you’re standing,” Reiner corrected, and Jean could see the sparkle in his eyes through the night.
“So take me to bed?” Jean teased with a wiggle of his brows. He knew he was being entirely unserious about this, but if his teasing kept Reiner blushing and smiling shyly like that, he’d happily continue.
Something crossed Reiner’s expression and suddenly Jean’s feet were off the ground. Laughter burst out of them both like cannons as he was slung over Reiner’s shoulder. Maybe it was the liquor or Reiner that made his chest feel lighter, made him smile wider than he had in the past few days.
Thankfully Reiner was careful when heading back inside, letting Jean know to keep his head down as they passed through the doorway, and gently setting him back down on his feet in front of the cabin door.
Now even more unsteady on his feet, Jean let his weight fall against the broader man, glancing down until their lips were again just a breath apart.
“No,” Reiner sighed with exasperation. But, he was holding tightly onto Jean’s hips, so he couldn’t complain too much.
“Worth a shot,” Jean winked, one hand fumbling behind him to open the door. The pair nearly fell into the room, only stopped by Reiner’s strong hands keeping Jean upright.
The distance from the door to Jean’s bed seemed far too short. If only he could keep Reiner’s hands on him for a bit longer, have plausible deniability for it tomorrow if Armin questioned him or if Connie had woken up.
When they reached the bed, Reiner was still by his side, helping him in. Jean rolled over until he was pressed against the nearby wall, opening the sheet up as an offer to the blonde. When he saw the tall shadow shake his head, though, he wasn’t surprised.
“Go to sleep, Jean,” Reiner’s voice was soft like a lullaby, the brush of his hand against Jean’s forehead soothing. Jean knew he was no delicate flower to be coddled, but he would enjoy the treatment for now.
Catching the blonde’s wrist in a tight grip as Reiner made move to leave, Jean let his eyes shut. He wanted nothing more now than to fall asleep, but he still held some real need to still have Reiner. Even if he was turned down twice already tonight, Jean was nothing if not persistent.
It was lovely, then, when he felt a pair of chapped lips meet his forehead with a quiet promise, “Later, Jean. Sober up first.”
That he could do, he promised himself as he curled into his sheet and heard the other bunk creak with Reiner’s body. Tomorrow he would be sober and wake Reiner with the best kiss he could muster. It was a silly romantic fantasy, but one that would keep him smiling until he drifted off to sleep.
But that was all before I locked it down
With your boots beneath my bed
Forever is the sweetest con
Jean woke the next morning with a raging headache and already tired eyes. He felt dizzy lying down and didn’t let himself consider how much worse it would be when he stood up. But he braced himself and did it anyways, swallowing to keep last night’s dinner from making a reappearance quite yet.
Looking around, the cabin was still full and lights still out—he must have woken up in the middle of the night. He tried staying quiet as he stumbled out of the room and towards the bathroom.
His knees barely hit the floor before he finally puked, gripping the sides of the toilet seat as he tried to turn his stomach inside out. It took a few minutes before he could flush the toilet and lean away to take a deep breath.
Finally he felt like his stomach had emptied and he could stand and head to the sink. He nearly dunked his head under the ice cold running water, since he was awake now he might as well stay awake.
Jean heard the door creak open and didn’t bother looking back to see. Likely it was just Connie coming to take a piss or Armin checking in on him.
The hand at the small of his back and the feeling of someone crouching beside him was all he needed to know who it was. How did he already become so familiar with that feeling?
“You okay?” Reiner asked, his voice still rough enough it was obvious he was still waking up.
“Yeah. Just drank too much,” Jean cursed as he almost hit his head on the faucet as he stood.
“Right….” Jean felt the pressure of Reiner’s hand leave. Looking in the mirror, he could see Reiner behind him, watching how his eyes flitted around unsure of what to do. Holding his gaze for a second was enough to make the blonde bolt, though, turning quickly on his heel to leave.
“Hey,” Jean barked out, making sure Reiner stopped, “I remember it all so don’t get all” he waved his hand up near his head, thinking it was meaning enough, “About it, okay?”
He could see Reiner’s shoulders relax as the older man turned around again, face softened. Reiner offered a small smile, “Okay,” before returning to Jean’s side.
Jean let Reiner stand closer than what had been normal, let the hand come to rest at his lower back again. His head was still swimming somewhat from the hangover and drowsiness and frankly he still wasn’t entirely sure it was all real.
“Seriously, are you okay?” Reiner asked again, barely waiting before he continued on, “Let me get you some water and crackers if you can hold it down.”
He was almost doting in a way that made Jean want to burst out into laughter—in what world was his former enemy now holding onto the back of his shirt and tending to his hangover so gently? Whatever world it was, Jean decided he wanted to continue to live there.
Yes, he wanted to, but standing here longer with Reiner with them both tiptoeing around the previous night would be far from helpful. So instead, Jean let one hand reach back until it reached Reiner’s chest, patting it as he shook his head, “I’m good. Go back to sleep.”
Looking in the mirror, he watched as Reiner lifted an eyebrow as if to ask again—Jean just nodded in response. As soon as Reiner left, Jean found himself missing his presence, missing the comfort of a familiar body beside him.
Turning back on the faucet he splashed water on his face, muttering to himself as he did, “Get a fucking grip, Kirstein.”
I've had some tricks up my sleeve
Takes one to know one
Nothing about the rest of the day felt easy for Jean, not when he could feel Reiner stealing glances at him during meetings, or how at lunch the blonde chose to sit beside him for the first time, close enough that their thighs touched. That isn’t to say that Jean didn’t enjoy the changes, far from that. More than anything he wanted to grab the other man’s jaw and ask him what they were before kissing the breath out of him.
That would have to wait, though, until they were alone. The last thing Jean needed was prying eyes and nosy friends getting in the way of…of whatever they had. Though looking Armin’s face when Reiner had sat down suggested perhaps their nightly rendezvous were not unnoticed. If it had, at least Armin had some tact not to say anything.
By the time dinner rolled around, Jean could feel his skin buzzing. They still had a few more hours until the moonlit conversation that was promised, but it was sooner. Sitting together again would have seemed like a step too far, but across the table was close enough. And if their feet knocked against each other throughout dinner, who would notice?
And if Jean found himself stealing more glances at Reiner, always with a question behind his gaze, who would look? Certainly Reiner had, as Jean could feel throughout the dinner those eyes looking at him that same way whenever he was chatting nonsense with Connie. How desperately he wanted to talk, to ask, to know. That would come later that night, though, he kept reassuring himself. Later, they would talk.
And I'm never gonna love again
The evening turned to night and after getting ready for bed, Jean slipped out from the bunks as usual. Reiner hadn’t even bothered to come back to the bunks after dinner, despite staying in the beds for a few days now. Somehow that made it easier, to ready himself for the night without the eye of the man he inexplicably admired looking at him.
From one of the portholes, he could see Reiner, see the way his jaw was held tight, his fingers tapping anxiously against his thighs. Jean couldn’t help but wonder if this were on land if Reiner would have bought flowers—he seemed like enough of a romantic in his odd and awkward way that he would, and that thought warmed Jean. Perhaps he would have done the same.
Breathing deeply, Jean cracked the door open, noticing immediately how Reiner’s posture straightened. It was clear he was nervous as well, which did help to ease some of the tension in Jean’s body, slow his heart rate back down for a moment.
Standing beside him, it felt almost as awkward as the first night they had really talked, Jean not knowing what to do, Reiner not sure what to say. This time, though, Jean let his hand intertwine with Reiner’s.
He cleared his throat, “Look I know both us aren’t exactly known for being the kings of romance or whatever—”
“Yeah, ‘cause the guy that talks about how much women want him, definitely has women wanting him.” Reiner’s voice interrupted in a teasing manner. Jean couldn’t help but let the tension in his body dissipate as he elbowed the man beside him. How did it become so easy with him?
Jean let himself turn and lean closer to Reiner, until their chests were nearly pressed against each other, “Lot of talk from the guy that wanted to kiss me so badly last night.”
“Still do.” Jean had expected Reiner to be more shy or nervous about this, certainly last night had suggested as much. But perhaps knowing that Jean was interested was enough for the former warrior to forgo his insecurities for just a moment.
“Then do it, Rei.” He let his hands rest at Reiner’s biceps. Last night he had been too forward, too insistent. Tonight he would let Reiner take the lead, guiding the pair to wherever the night would bring.
Reiner’s lips met his instantly. His mouth was strong yet soft against Jean’s, tasting like a sweetness Jean had never known he craved. It was addicting to fall like this, so quickly and easily, into Reiner’s arms. Fingertips ran through his hair, pulling Jean even closer.
When they had to pull away, panting and flushed, Jean took one look at Reiner’s lovesick face before bubbling into joyful laughter. His hands cupped the blonde’s jaw, the pads of his fingers running across the rough, unshaven skin.
“I really like you,” his voice was raw and soft as the words fell from him as honest as any hatred he had spewed years before. For right now, Reiner looked at him as if Jean had decorated the sky himself with stars to make the darkness less all-encompassing.
If Jean thought he was a sap, he knew Reiner was one, the tears blinked away the blonde as he nodded, “I…I like you a lot too.”
“I think,” Jean teased between butterfly kisses pressed across his cheek, “If you had told me years ago I would’ve liked the blonde oaf who couldn’t stop staring at Krista’s ass I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“Jean.” His voice was tight, halfway between a complaint and whine, a sound that made Jean’s heart swell and body feel warm. It was enough for Jean to drag his hands down to the other man’s waist and tug him for another kiss.
It lasted far longer than their first, the joyful sweetness slipping into something more forceful and desperate.
He wondered as their tongues danced and bodies melted together whether this made him a bad friend and a worse person. He wondered if all the friends and comrades who had died would could forgive him for this, for letting the same hands that had been responsible for their last breaths now be pressed into the small of Jean’s back with such force they were sure to leave an indent. Would they understand that beneath it all Reiner had always been just a man, tormented by what he thought he had to do? They had to, didn’t they?
Reiner was the one to break the kiss, still staying just a breath away as he asked with sadness laced though his voice, “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Jean couldn’t even convince himself, “You’re a great kisser.”
“Jean.”
“I know,” he resigned, knowing that Reiner was seeing right through the usual bullshit, “I just…”
As Jean fumbled to find his words, Reiner slotted in his own, “Wonder if either of us deserve to be happy for what we’ve done? Wonder if us being together would be a certain kind of fucked up?”
“You’ve thought about it,” Jean commented plainly, somehow feeling the sinking feeling in his gut lessen as it became more clear they both were dragging along the same weight.
“For a while,” Reiner admitted, taking a deep breath, preparing to say whatever he clearly had planned up the night before after putting Jean to bed, “I like you a lot, Jean. I think you’re kind and strong, I think you’re incredibly handsome and even though you definitely know that and your ego gets the better of you sometimes, I still find myself wanting to be around you. But,” Jean could feel his heart tighten at that word, “I also know I’ve caused you so much hurt and pain and I can’t take that back no matter how many nights I don’t sleep because I’m just begging the world to let me undo it. So it’s up to you if you want me at all, or anything else because I,” he blinked a few times, finally looking at Jean once again, “I can’t make this decision.”
Jean stayed silent for a while, impressed at least by how honest Reiner was, the sort of vulnerability that Jean would have sworn years ago his former enemy could never have. Wrapping his arms around Reiner’s neck, Jean pulled the other man into a tight hug.
He couldn’t bring himself to say the words he wanted to, couldn’t bring himself to forgive Reiner—maybe he never would. But he could speak honestly, “You’ve hurt me, yeah, but I’ve hurt you just as much, you idiot. I’m not letting you get away with thinking you’re the only one that feels like shit—we all had to do things we regret. And I can’t tell you why you’re so infuriatingly attractive to me, or why I just wanna spend time talking about nothing with you every night, or why I’ve dreamed about kissing you stupid more times than I can count, but I do and I have. So,” he leaned away from the hug just enough to be able to meet his gaze with certainty burning in his gaze, “I want you. We take it slow and see how this goes, but I want you.”
“Okay,” Reiner’s eyes were glassy again with a dumbfounded expression. It made Jean’s heart flutter just seeing how surprised he was by this all; Jean couldn’t help but feel the same. It was messy and confusing but when he leaned in to kiss Reiner again, it all made sense.
It seemed like forever they stayed wrapped around each other, a forever that Jean would gladly enjoy. They stayed until their lips grew tired and the air chilled uncomfortably.
As they walked back to their bunks, Jean knew this was by no means a perfect start to a relationship, but also knew that he had never felt so seen and understood by someone. No, Reiner wasn’t perfect, but when he smiled and held Jean’s hand tightly, it was close enough.
I'm never gonna love again.