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@commanderarlelt
>the work is almost daunting, when he lays it out on his desk the way he does. the profiles, the photos, the exams, the scoresâjean finds himself being sucked into it within moments.<
>as such, he doesnât look up as he responds to armin.< have to what?Â
>makes a vague hand gesture.<Â say anything back. >bites the inside of his cheek, staring intently at jean's profile, at the way his wet hair sticks to his forehead.<
>arminâs presence leaves in his head a warm buzzing feeling in its wake.<
yeah, im um, glad youre here too? >he tries, but fails at being even vaguely nice, like most attempts in his doing so. still, jean manages a small smile and waves armin off,< just go to bed, commander
>slumps down on the bed face first, though after a moment he turns around so he's facing jean. he pulls his knees to his chest, curling in a semi fetal position. he closes his eyes for a moment, but frowns, opening them again.< you don't have to, you know.Â
>is a little taken aback by the sudden intrusion of personal space, but somehow itâs okay if itâs armin.<
old habits kinda die hard. >his hand is awkwardly patting arminâs backâjeanâs no counselor, oh, no, not even after working with kids for all these years he isnât. he just directs those sobbing messes to sashaâs quarters; sheâs got a knack for that kinda stuff, and all jeanâs good at is making them cry more.<
>at least arminâs used to jean, now, that jean isnât too worried about that happening.<
sooo are you gonna, like, sleep on the bed, or me >lets out a chuckle, somewhat amused.< i mean at this rate you might pass out on my shoulder
mhmm, >he makes an affirmative noise, but  shakes his head, contradicting himself. he feels jean's chuckle rumble through his chest and makes no attempt to move, breathing in steadily. he's probably clinging to him like a child, he knows, but that doesn't mean he can bring himself to care. when he's sleepy he forgets to act like his age.<
glad you're here, >he mumbles, pressing his forehead against jean's shoulder a little harder before pulling away, letting his fingers ghost down jean's arms.<
unlike you, commander, >he turns to look up at armin, cracking a wry smile,< i dont have lackeys to do the tedious paperwork for me, being a lowly instructor and all
>seeing arminâs state of being, though, jean takes mercy on him and cuts back the sarcasm. his expression softens a little as he speaks again.<Â
get some rest, you look like you went through hell and backâwhich you did. so sleep already, armin >jean reaches up and ruffles arminâs hair.< dont stay up for me babe
>breathes in, leaning into the touch as his eyes fall closed. he bumps his forehead to the side of jean's head, slowly draping his arms around his neck, resting his face against jean's shoulder. he's tried and he lost 30 men and he hasn't been touched gently in so long. jean is comforting.< ...can't believe you still call me that.
yea well shows over buddy
>he pulls out the chair and sifts through the files sitting on his deskâthe first 3dmg exam was coming up, which meant increased workload; it also means that he has to have individual student reports done by the end of the week, something heâs been putting off for fucking ever.<
>his hair is still wet as he runs a hand through it, a little irritated with himself.< why dont you just, um, sleep or something
>shakes his head, rolling his eyes a little, burring his nose a little in his scarf.< i'm not sleepy, >he lies, standing up to lean on the desk next to him, the floor cold against his feet. he resists the urge to brush jean's hair back, deciding instead to do it to his own hair.< what're you doing?
>the ungodly mess that sits before him at the bottom of his closet only serves as a grim reminder to jean that he has to reorganize it at some point. again. the more you clean it, the faster it gets messy, so why bother? thatâs the sort of looping logic that keeps jeanâs clothes in a constant state of chaos. well, at least they donât smell.<
>jean picks out a shirt and tosses it on, glad for the extra warmth; the heating in here never works quite well, and jean never bothers to tend a fire.<Â
what? >he turns around, in the process of putting on some underwear. armin always makes the most interesting expressions, and the one he has on his face now takes the cake for all the years jean had known him.<
>itâs a mix of that one face armin made when connie dared him to eat a spoonful of wasabi when they were all drunk during christmas last year, and also with that face he made when he gets answers wrong on a test. either way, it looks funny as hell to jean.<
what is it? >jean says again, stepping into some comfortable pants and dropping the towel onto the back of the chair.< you look like you saw something awful.
>buries his face in the pillow when jean starts getting dressed just then and there, without warning, only looking up to meet his eyes accidentally, and proceeding to look away once again, straight ahead of him. jean seems to find this impossibly funny, though, and armin wonders, not without mortification, if he knows what he's doing.<
nothing, just you. >he meant for it to sound like an insult, but it comes out kind of breathy and just below a normal tone of voice, which only serves to add to his embarrassment.<
>the water is hot after it gets running for a few momentsâjean gives them kudos for that, the efficient heating system that is. unfortunately, it works only in short bursts, and as he steps into the shower, jean knows he only has several minutes before it would run cold on him.<
>for the time being, though, he breathes in deeply, steam in the air tickling the back of his throat and settling in rather comfortably in his chest.<
>showers are wonderful, for a good reason: there are very few things in this world that are both necessary and enjoyable, making something routine to be looked forward to. unlike most things in his life; the thought of paperwork makes his shoulders slump in dread, and he vaguely wonders if he stays in the shower, even when the water goes cold, maybe he can avoid doing anything, ever. at all. to hole himself up in his own little world.<
>jean breathes out, wet hair getting in his eyes.<
>thinking that he oughtnât keep armin waiting, he shuts off the water and grabs his towel, wiping his face and then just, letting it stay there, water dripping all over the floor. he knows heâll hate it when he has to wipe it all up later, probably with dirty underwear or something, but he feels tired.<Â
>donât be such a bitch. he wraps the towel around his waist, a little more refreshed than he had been before the few minutesâ long shower, and walks out, digging through his closet for something clean to wear.<
>he's sitting with his back against the headboard and his legs slightly pulled towards his chest, hugging one of jean's pillows against his chest. it smells like him; like leather and soap and a little like sweat, and he's always felt safe like this, curled in on himself, because some habits die hard.
when the door to the bathroom opens, he turns to look at jean on instinct, only realizing it's a mistake once he sees the way the water slides down his chest, unconsciously following some droplets with his eyes until they get lost in the hem of jean's towel.
his face goes red, and he looks away when jean bends down to dig through his closet, the muscles in his back tightening with the effort.<
uh. >he says, by way of a greeting. nailed it.<
>the affirmative answer âso easily given, so quiet and unprotectedâ takes him by surprise, and his skin prickles with heat under his coat, suddenly nervous.<
>takes a step inside as soon as jean opens the door, in timid silence, judging jeanâs reactions, afraid to make any sudden movements.<
>nods, smiling sheepishly up at jean.< only if you want me to.
>doesnât answer for a while, still deep in thought, then smiles lightly albeit as if he isnât truly thinking about his actions.<
okay
>jean is miles away, caught in the trap known as the fucking memory lane, remembering, and remembering more.<
do you⊠>he begins, then rubs his face< no, i mean im gonna take a really quick shower. you can take the bed ill make do when i get back
>he's been in jean's room countless of times, napping in his couch or simply there for lunch whenever they both had time. armin knows that he still keeps his trainee uniform in his closet, knows about the permanent state of unmadeness of his bed, the photographs inside the few books he keeps on the table.
he's also spent the night before- this time  shouldn't feel different but it does, and he doesn't even know what he's expecting.<
>he shrugs off his coat, kicks off his boots. he doesn't lie down, though, just sits on the bed and tries to memorize the atmosphere of the room against the soft sound of jean in the shower.<
>it only occurs to jean now that he isnât actually listening to what the other was saying because he blinks in confusion when he sees armin looking at him, as if expecting an answer. so, by default, he says rather absentmindedly,< yeahâ? yeah, yeah thats fine
>he opens the door to his room, realizing moments later that armin hasnât left yet.<Â
wait youre staying???
>the affirmative answer âso easily given, so quiet and unprotectedâ takes him by surprise, and his skin prickles with heat under his coat, suddenly nervous.<
>takes a step inside as soon as jean opens the door, in timid silence, judging jean's reactions, afraid to make any sudden movements.<
>nods, smiling sheepishly up at jean.< only if you want me to.
>makes a face. jean has yet to be proud of himself, but maybe he could make it through, believing that all their old friends wouldâve wanted this, believing that marco⊠âŠ<
yeah? thatsâcomforting. >because armin was alive, at the very least, next to him, clinging like a fifteen year old girl and it was cold outside but jean felt quite warm inside.<
>there's only silence after that, and it's comfortable. armin doesn't believe in a lot of things but he believes in love, and right here, in this moment, there is no one else he trusts as much as he trusts jean â trusts the lines in his hands and the softer tones in his voice he sometimes catches in casual conversation, the beginnings of smiles.
he wants jean but he also wants what's best for jean, wants to give him the specific brand of comfort jean needs to keep breathing.
they stop in front of jean's door, and armin waits, sliding his arm out of jean's, but letting his fingertips linger around his pulse, if only for a second.<
can i spend the night? >right here, in this moment, he doesn't care about rumors.<
theyd probably be happy to know where you are at this point, saving humanity and all that >his words leave a dry, itching feeling in the back of his throat. what a pain, talking about those whoâve come and gone.<
not really. youre just awfully clingy which is normal i guess >in any case, jean feels a little comforted by arminâs presenceâat least they ended up surviving all these years. even if he acts otherwise, he knows that by now, arminâs more than simply a friend.<
>jean wrinkled his nose. like. a best friend youâd risk your all for. yeah.<
>nods.< i'm glad. >he comments, skipping a crack on the sidewalk. his boots make a muted thud sound, and the action is almost childish. the pain of loss has now subsided to a dull ache with the passing of time, sometimes brightened by the happy memories of the good times they were able to share. there is no knot in his throat. there are no tears in his eyes. just a tiny, faraway smile.< i  think they'd be proud of you, y'know. he'd be proud of you. >a pause.< i'm proud of you.
>and his fingers remind cold and still around jean's upper arm, comforting and grounding.<
>looks back at jean, surprised.< i was talking about the other kids. the oneâs who give their all, the different ones. >he smiles down, fingers tightening unintentionally around jeanâs arm.< remember how youâd boast about joining the military police?
fucking shouldve too cause look at where i am now >cuts off with a small frown, thinking that maybe that comment sounds more bitter than he intended.< i mean⊠>pause.<
whyre you holding onto my arm?
i am where they would have wanted me to be... i am where i wanted to be. >he murmurs <Â i hope they're proud. Â >after a second, though, Â he seems to return to the present moment, flustering a little.<
oh. >he startles at the question, heat rushing to his face.< dunno. does it bother you?
>breaks from his reverie, glancing at armin in mild surpriseâand then he says, quite indignantly at that,< we werent. well, maybe you were, but i wasnt
i was a good trainee, i did what i was told and i didnt fuck around with the teachers as much as these snotnosed brats are
>sighs, then mumbles,< well maybe i did fuck around a lot but its still not as bad as what ive gotta deal withÂ
>looks back at jean, surprised.< i was talking about the other kids. the one's who give their all, the different ones. >he smiles down, fingers tightening unintentionally around jean's arm.< remember how you'd boast about joining the military police?
if you had to work with them all day youd actually agree with me
âŠÂ
>his expression becomes solemn.< the kids who want to join the scouting legionâtheyre different from most of the others >and as quickly as it had come, the seriousness disappears and is replaced with a look of annoyance.< so you get the good end of the stick but let me tell you about garrison kids they literally dont give a shit about anything! at least military police trainees give it their all
>jean continues, mumbling to himself under his breath.<
>he listens attentively, looking at his boots as they walk the familiar walk to jean's room. armin's not even sure jean's really thinking about the turns and steps he's giving, lost in his own mumbling. it's endearing, he thinks, sliding his arm to lock it with jean's, feeling the rough material of his jacket against his fingertips. some things just don't change.<
>he skips the cracks on the sidewalks.< we were kinda like that, weren't we.Â
iâ >hesitates, looking a little off-put, then stares pointedly ahead, not bothering to throw a single glance in arminâs direction.< i dont care, i was just saying
>is fully aware of how much of a teenage girl heâs acting like, but. what the hell.<
>chuckles under his breath, hiding his face in his scarf a little. the air is cold, and he can almost see his breath.< yeah, alright. kids these days. they're terrible. >he says it in his best jean impression.<
âŠno? iâm tired and my room is so far away. >shrugs.< i was rather hoping youâd let me crash at your place.
its been just like a fuckin week since you got back and youre already giving up and going to my room
rumors have been flying, commander
always have been
rumors have been flying, commander, >repeats, overly dramatically< rumors are always flying. >he shoves his hands in his pokers and grins up at him, expression somewhat affectionate, amused and fond. after looking at jean for a long moment, he mumbles,< didn't think you were the type to care all that much.
>grins tiredly, tilting his head to the side a little.< what a coincidence.
funny how that works
are you up for another night of paperwork and shit you dont wanna do
...no? i'm tired and my room is so far away. >shrugs.< i was rather hoping you'd let me crash at your place.
