post-expedition
Captain Mikasa Ackerman. Commander Jean Kirschtein. Meetings. Revelations. Shaving. 3862 words. (ao3.)
There are moments where the Veterans of the Survey Corps consider themselves lucky, even if it’s in the aftermath of misfortune.
When an expedition leads to five soldiers being registered as M.I.A, they try to focus on the dozens who will live to see another day. When a rookie is thrown off their horse by a Titan’s arm, it’s important to emphasize their resolve to return to their steed and not break the riding formation. And when the valiant Commander Kirschtein gets injured pulling a fifteen-year-old kid from the jaws of a Titan, the fact that both parties retained all their limbs before falling to the ground says all they want to know.
Though Mikasa commends Jean’s ability to maneuver back to the horses with a rookie tucked under his arm, the first thoughts on her mind are admonishments of his impulsivity. The baby-faced soldier looks mortified that the Commander — of all people — risked their neck to preserve a single life. At least once they rejoin the formation, Jean is too busy rubbing his injured shoulder to look back at the kid.
Unsurprisingly, when the Veterans of the Survey Corps meet in Jean’s office for their usual post-expedition meeting, the Commander’s right arm rests in a sling. Due to most of the mission taking place on horseback, his shoulder remained unchecked for longer than he would have liked. It was only when they breaked to tend to the horses that he realized it was dislocated. At least the rookies of the mission were greeted to the sight of Commander Kirschtein having his shoulder popped back in by Squad Vice Captain Braus.
The downside was that the beloved Commander was unable to raise his arm to inspire his troops as they moved forward, as well utilize his ODM-gear as proficiently as he usually could. But the upside is that he will only need the sling for a few weeks.
As Jean briefs his fellow Veterans on the plans regarding next month’s expedition, Mikasa can’t help but wonder if somewhere out there the soul of Erwin Smith is admiring his successor’s determination to place value in every life, or calling him a suicidal bastard. Oh, how the tables have turned.
At least Armin and Jean’s new riding formation looks promising. Using both their brains, they have managed to concoct a new way of maneuvering outside Wall Rose, utilizing the exact number of soldiers currently enlisted to cover as much ground as possible. New advancements in smoke flare technology has also helped, allowing the two to associate different messages with the different colors they can shoot into the sky.
Mikasa and Sasha sit quietly at the table, listening intently to each and every word. Technically a Captain and Squad Vice Captain could get away with only focusing on their flank of the formation. However, both can recognize the benefits in learning all they can before each expedition. Mikasa in particular hates surprises, especially on missions outside the walls, so taking in every word that the Commander and Section Commander have to say soothes her, in a way.
Throughout the meeting, Jean remains standing at the table and points to the map with his good hand. Even in the privacy of his office he still retains an imposing presence. Whether it be because of his tall stature, the hardened lines of his face, or his ability to connect to even the weakest of soldiers, Mikasa has never been surprised by his ability to inspire the Survey Corps. Even as Armin stands next to him, it’s easy to see a sense of connection between the two in how they lead, the idea that one can do what the other cannot. Armin’s ability to plan and Jean’s ability to lead has been an exceedingly effective combination over the last few years.
Jean’s voice is low and weary as he finishes explaining next month’s expedition plan. Considering the day he’s had, it’s no surprise that the beloved Commander is feeling a little worn out.
“Is there anything else we should go over before we end things?” he asks, rubbing his tired eyes.
He glances around the room at Sasha, Armin, then settles on Mikasa. Their gazes connect for a second longer than usual before breaking apart. It’s a bad habit of his, but he just can’t seem to break it.
Neither Jean nor Mikasa are comfortable with letting people know of their exact relationship, even the friends they’ve fought alongside since their younger days. Perhaps if Jean were not the Commander and Mikasa were not the Corps’ most esteemed Captain, then they would be more open with things.
In another world they’d be free of the restraints that came with their positions — Jean could hold her hand under the table and Mikasa could lean her head on his shoulder. Maybe he could even greet her at meals by planting a kiss on her forehead.
But that is not the world they live in. So for now, all their interactions in front of prying eyes must be kept strictly professional.
“Well… since we’re all here I’ve been meaning to bring this up,” Armin starts, thankfully breaking the Commander and Captain out of their little trance.
Armin takes a seat at the table, his posture easing up slightly. “Sasha, some of our younger soldiers have claimed to have spotted you sleeping in the west barracks,” he starts, his voice softening and dropping the civility expected of the Section Commander. “Do you mind telling us why that’s so?”
Both Jean and Mikasa refocus their attention on the Squad Vice Captain. Sasha herself looks surprised that the topic has come up. Surely, the sleeping arrangements of Captain Ackerman’s second-in-command isn’t worth discussing in an official meeting.
“Oh uh… listen, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the private room, but there’s this weird draft in it that goes right above my bed and…” Sasha begins, then shrugs her shoulders. “I dunno, I guess I just got sick of it. The west barracks are warmer… and it’s closer to the mess hall.”
Jean lets out a sigh and rubs the bridge of his nose. He’s always known to expect peculiar things from his old friend, but anticipating her quirks doesn’t make them any less strange. All the higher ups of the Survey Corps have the privilege of sleeping in their own private quarters and Sasha does absolute squat with the opportunity.
“Alright, well… you’re a Squad Vice Captain,” the Commander explains. “And sleeping in proximity to the new recruits isn’t a good look for any of us. A lot of them are still kids, remember?”
“No, it’s fine!” Sasha insists. “There’s this room right at the end that no one ever goes into — I think it’s supposed to be for injured soldiers — but it’s basically private!”
“How about we take a look at your room then?” Mikasa suggests. “We could call someone in to fix the draft problem.”
“But that could take weeks!” Sasha points out. “I gotta sleep somewhere ‘till then!”
“How about you sleep in Mikasa’s room?” Armin proposes. He leans back on his chair slightly. “Last I heard it’s not that drafty and has a fireplace.”
Mikasa tilts her head to the side as she eyes the blond. “Then where do I sleep?”
There is a beat, then suddenly Armin flashes a smirk towards his comrades.
“With the Commander.”
A few seconds of silence fill the office, then just like that Mikasa feels a wave of heat rushing to her face.
She looks at Jean, who is reddening twice as hard and is even worse at hiding it. As the honorable Commander looks away and tries to cover his face, Mikasa pulls her scarf over her nose, a habit from her youth. As she eyes Jean she wonders what he’s thinking about and guesses that it probably involves leaping out of the window in shame. It’s certainly not the worst plan in the world.
Armin chuckles to himself, the smugness of being right plastered all over his youthful face. Even after his years as the esteemed Section Commander, he’s not about toying with his friends. Some things truly never change.
“Come on, we all sleep on the same floor,” Armin reminds, obviously adding fuel to the fire. He eyes Mikasa. “And I can hear you sneaking into his room at night.”
As the Captain blushes harder, Sasha remains confused, doing her damndest to figure out what on earth everyone is reacting to.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, am I missing something here?!” she speaks up. The brunette looks at the flustered Commander and Captain, then over to Armin. “Are you saying that they’re…” She begins gesturing wildly with her hands. “...you know?”
Armin raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Jean finally composes himself, managing to stand up straight and look at his fellow veterans without an obvious blush on his face. On instinct his eyes find Mikasa’s and she only looks slightly less mortified than she did before. In hindsight, it’s unsurprising that someone as observant as Armin has managed to pinpoint the truth, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.
Sasha looks at Jean, then to Mikasa, before finally shaking her head.
“No, no, no, that can’t be!” she insists. “Listen, there’s this rumor going around that Jean’s been messing with some tight-lipped floozy after hours and… and…”
Sasha takes a moment to look at her friend sitting next to her. The admirable Captain Ackerman can only stare back with a knowing, unwavering gaze.
It only takes a few seconds of looking into Mikasa’s eyes for Sasha to realize the horrible, horrible truth.
Now it’s the Squad Vice Captain’s turn to feel utterly humiliated.
“Mikasa, I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that,” she blabbers on clumsily. She then lets out an awkward laugh. “And that whole floozy thing, it was just a rumor I heard, I didn’t spread it… a lot.”
Mikasa nods slowly. “It’s alright.” Her voice is quite dry to mask her discomfort with the topic at hand.
“But hey! At least one of us is getting some, right?” Sasha continues to say. Clearly, she has yet to grow out of her habit of running her stupid mouth. “Bring it here!”
She raises her open palm up to Mikasa, who ignores her, then to Jean, who also ignores her. Both of them are a little too preoccupied to entertain Sasha’s antics.
As the chaos continues, a very content Armin remains seated and at ease. He looks to Jean, who is breathing to maintain a clear mind. He clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, then when he next speaks it’s back in his Commander voice, the tone characterized by a kind of stern professionalism and succinct honesty.
“So… should we move forward with Arlert’s proposal?” he tries, running a hand through his hair as he speaks. “Sasha sleeps in Mikasa’s room and Mikasa sleeps… elsewhere? All in favor say ‘aye?’”
The Veterans of the Corps all nod, some more stiffly than others, in unison.
With the verdict decided, Jean nods his head.
“Alright, meeting adjourned,” he says in a tone that implies a thankfulness to a higher power, perhaps gratitude over the topic finally being dropped.
…
…
…
When the evening finally comes, Mikasa heads to Jean’s private quarters like she always does, only this time her steps are less laden with secrecy and hesitation. With the truth now amongst the higher-ups, there’s technically no more need to keep things clandestine.
However, Mikasa’s not sure if she can handle running into Armin or Sasha again. Even if they know exactly what she’s doing heading to the Commander’s room barefoot and in her nightgown, she’s not in the mood to face them for a second time.
Mikasa even went out of her way to bolt out of Jean’s office once the meeting officially ended, not even speaking to Sasha regarding the sleeping arrangements. Hopefully the note she left on her bed would tell her Squad Vice Captain enough.
In seconds Mikasa reaches the door of Jean’s bedroom and slips in. After she locks it, she takes a moment to look around the area. Although the place is lit by candles and a fire roars in the hearth, the beloved Commander is nowhere to be seen.
“Jean?” Mikasa asks. “Sweetheart?”
His voice is heard from behind the door leading to his private bathroom. “In here.”
Mikasa heads over and taps her knuckles against the wood. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
She gently twists the knob and opens the door very slightly. Through the space between that and the frame she spots Jean standing in a steamy room. His hair is shiny and slicked from his bath and a towel is wrapped around his waist. Bare chested and still slightly wet, he seems to be struggling to put his injured arm back into the sling.
Mikasa doesn’t waste time before walking in and helping out. “Let me.”
Jean says nothing as she carefully ties the piece of cloth around his neck and lets his arm hang safely in the material. It’s probably the most gentle handling his shoulder has faced all day.
Once she’s done he looks over and gives a friendly smile. “Thank you.”
She presses a quick peck to his cheek in return. “You’re welcome.”
Mikasa goes to the door and expects Jean to follow, but instead he remains where he is and goes to the sink. He wipes steam off the mirror and spends a moment looking at himself in the reflection. Nowadays his facial hair usually floats between heavy stubble and a short beard, but over the last few weeks of expedition prep and training it’s been looking especially unkempt.
“What are you doing?” Mikasa asks, though a part of her can already anticipate his answer.
“Shaving,” Jean says. With his good hand he tries to put his sliver of shaving soap into his mug. “Haven’t done it in a while.”
Despite her fondness for Jean’s scruffy look, Mikasa can acknowledge a Commander’s desire to project a certain image towards his fellow soldiers. Even Erwin Smith remained clean-cut and well-groomed during his tenure.
She watches as he pours hot water into the mug, then uses his left hand to grab the shaving brush. He doesn’t get far in his attempts at creating a lather before Mikasa steps in.
“I got this,” she says and takes the brush from his grasp.
Jean looks relieved to see her take over. “Thank you.”
“No worries,” she assures, taking the mug as well. She begins swirling the brush inside the device to create a thick, foamy lather. “Besides, I’m not letting you touch that razor with your left.”
Mikasa makes Jean sit at the edge of the bathtub as she works. She’s seen him touch up his beard enough to know his whole routine, from which balms he uses to soothe his skin to how short he keeps the strokes of the blade. It’s extensive, but perhaps he finds comfort in the ritual, a sense of ease in knowing that some things in such an uncontrollable world can be controlled. It’s simple science — when one swirls a wet brush in a mug full of shaving soap, they get a lather, and when one applies said lather to a beard after a hot bath, then they are on the road to getting a clean, close shave, even if it’s just at the edges.
With the gentlest hand Mikasa runs the sudsy brush over Jean’s face, making sure to place the lather mostly on his upper cheeks and neck. She then grabs the straight razor off the nearby shelf and gets to work.
She’s quiet as she shaves the edges of his beard in gentle strokes, making sure to align the hairs under his cheekbones perfectly and being extra careful when holding the blade near his neck. It’s not the first time she’s helped him shave, as a training accident years ago led to Jean’s right palm being bandaged for a week. Back then he was only known as Squad Leader Kirschtein and already understood the concepts of keeping up appearances.
After a few minutes of keeping the beloved Commander well-groomed, Mikasa finishes her work. She puts the razor down then rinses his face with cold water. She then applies his usual post-shave balm, the one with a soapy scent that she’s particularly fond of. With her hands on his cheeks, she can literally feel him smiling under his touch.
“How’s that?” she asks.
“Perfect.” Jean then leans forward to give her a quick kiss. “Thank you, mon amour.”
For some reason, the sound of his pet name for her feels different tonight. As content as she is to feel his lips against hers, a part of her is unwell.
As the two exit the bathroom and enter the bedroom, Jean notices her pretty face falling.
“So uh… I figure we should talk about it, huh?” he brings up, running a hand through his wet hair, a nervous tendency of his.
“What’s left to talk about?” Mikasa asks. She goes to Jean’s dresser, the one with a mirror above it, and retrieves her hairbrush out of one of the drawers. “Now Armin and Sasha know the truth — at this rate the entire Legion will know by next week.”
“I highly doubt that’ll happen,” Jean assures. He walks up next to her and begins retrieving his sleepwear from the dresser. “Besides, I’d hope that a Section Commander and Squad Vice Captain have better things to do than gossip.”
“Jean, I’m serious,” Mikasa almost snaps at him. She gives him a brief glare, then her gaze softens. “I just… I just wish that we could’ve told everyone when we were ready.”
There is a beat, then Jean steps towards his lover and places a kiss on her forehead. When he looks down he notices that she’s grasping her hairbrush with an absolute death grip, so he reaches over to place his good hand on hers.
“I would’ve liked it that way, too,” he says. “I know Armin and Sasha won’t spread rumours, but still, it’s… difficult.”
He presses another kiss to her head as Mikasa looks forward, taking in the reflection of her and him. Despite his arm in a sling he is still a striking presence. Though the height difference between the two is larger now, it’s still enough for Mikasa to place her head just under his chin. She spends a moment leaning against his chest, taking in his clean scent and the heat of his skin. He’s always been warmer than her, she doesn’t know how he does it.
“Can I be honest though?” Jean says as he moves his hand to her shoulder.
Mikasa nuzzles her head against his chest. “Yes?”
“I’m just glad we can still be together.”
Mikasa lets out a sigh, but a good one — a breath of life that signals relief and release. Despite the stress of the meeting and the revelation, it doesn’t change too much for them. She can still sleep next to him at night, wake him up in the morning by kissing his eyelashes, and greet him with her lips when they know they’re alone. Considering how much effort they put into keeping things hidden, their relationship being an open secret around the higher-ups could be a blessing in disguise.
And if she recalls there were other Veterans back in the day who followed a similar path. Mikasa could recall hearing rumours back in her youth regarding Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Kaspar — how they slept in the same room, held hands when away from the public eye, and would embrace each other lovingly after missions. Back then Mikasa didn’t believe it, as she only ever saw the seasoned soldiers acting professional around one another. She could never assume that they were in love and perhaps that was intentional.
So with that in mind, Mikasa lets Jean wrap his arm around her shoulder and kiss her hair. Just like before she savors his touch and the way his beard tickles her skin.
“What do we do now?” she asks.
Jean spends a moment thinking, then a slightly playful grin comes to his face. “I can do that thing you like.”
Mikasa eyes him quizzically. “What thing?”
He lets out a chuckle before pressing another kiss to her forehead. “The thing I don’t need two arms to do.”
Somehow, his husky voice and warmth helps her smile. She faces him to meet his lips more easily, her dainty hands running across his cheeks as he kisses her back. God, she loves that beard of his. Their foreheads touch as Jean steps forward, making Mikasa’s back brush against the dresser. She can already tell what he’s asking her to do and she takes the initiative, hopping up to sit on the furniture without breaking their kiss.
It’s certainly not the first time they’ve done things against his dresser.
Jean’s lips soon move away from hers, gently trailing down her jawline and onto her neck. Mikasa can only close her eyes as she lets him work, delighting in the way his touch can send sparks into her flesh. Her stomach tenses in anticipation as he begins peppering his kisses lower and lower.
Soon he’s kneeling in front of her, kissing the soft skin of her thigh and continuing to move downwards. Mikasa takes in the sight of her Commander, a bath towel still wrapped around his waist as he rests on his knees. It’s moments like this where she can only look disrespectfully as she admires the musculature of his chest and broad shoulders.
Jean’s lips move past her knee and he’s quick to graze them over her calf. Their gazes remain connected as he kisses her heel. Once he gets to her toes Mikasa finally closes her eyes.
She lets out a sigh, relishing in the sensation of Jean kissing each individual toe of hers, except for the big one which he puts in his mouth. A labored breath escapes Mikasa’s mouth as he sucks, hard.
Moments pass and Mikasa wishes they were hours. The fire cackles on the other side of the room, the moon shines in the sky outside the window, and soon Jean finishes what he set out to do. He releases her foot from his mouth before standing up again, being quick to meet Mikasa’s lips with his.
“Not bad for a guy with one arm?” he asks between kisses. He can’t help but smirk.
“Shut up,” Mikasa murmurs, though she is unable to wipe the smile from her face.
One of her arms reaches around Jean’s shoulders while the other reaches for the towel at his waist. It comes off effortlessly. Once it hits the floor his free hand is already grabbing her thigh, hiking it up slightly as the two continue to enjoy each other’s touch. Feeling his pressure and hips move against her, Mikasa closes her eyes and delights in every part of him.
Maybe their relationship being an open secret won’t be a bad thing. At least now they no longer have to be quiet.
