How would you feel about writing a story where Jean is looking after Hange in place of Moblit. Possibly in more ways than one in future arc age ;>
Jean’s knock on the heavy wooden door was loud enough to resound through the empty hallway, was loud enough to be heard clearly in the room behind which he knew was occupied, yet he received no answer. After a moment of silence he decided to enter anyway, balancing oil lamp and plate in one hand as he pushed the door open and peeked inside.
“Commander?”, he called out, slipping into the room before the door behind himself.
“It’s okay, Jean”, came the distracted voice from behind the desk, “I’m alone.”
On second thought he also reached down to turn the brass key in the lock, making sure they would be undisturbed for the remainder of the evening. It was late and except for emergencies there was no reason to disturb the commander any further, especially not after the day they had.
When he turned around he found the office mostly dark, seating area and bookshelves lining the walls in shadow with the only source of light, except for the lamp Jean carried himself, a lone candle on the heavy desk. He could see Hanji squint in the low light, trying to decipher some letter or form while their hand moved to fill out another piece of paper without even looking at it.
The picture wasn’t surprising. Jean couldn’t even begin to count how often he had found his commander like this, slaving away behind their desk well into the night, trying to live up to their new responsibilities while still maintaining their important research. At least they were still responsive to his presence, not lost deep in thought muttering nonsense like he found them sometimes as well.
“You missed dinner so I brought you some food”, he said, setting down the plate on one of the rare spots that weren’t covered with papers. He even found a place for the lamp to help illuminate the desk further. “It wasn’t too opulent but I got you the best leftovers.”
“Thank you, Jean.”
The words were sincere even though Hanji didn’t look up when they reached over to grab a slice of bread, their other hand still scribbling away. Jean leaned closer so he could see what they were writing. It was a form to request an additional shipment of equipment that, to his surprise, was actually filled out in all the right places. But he still doubted anyone but him and Hanji themselves would be able to read that scrawl.
Sighing quietly he stepped around the desk and reached out to cup Hanji’s nervously scribbling hand. That finally made them look up at him.
“It’s late”, he said, voice quiet but firm, the only way he knew would definitely reach through to her. “You can afford a small break without the branch going up in smoke. At least eat in peace.”
Jean had not once been able to convince them of going to sleep at a reasonable hour and he knew he wouldn’t be able to now. But if he could do this, create a brief moment of rest and respite for his commander, then he would be able to rest knowing he had done his best to keep them alive one more day.
At first Hanji just blinked up at him, eyes still wide and thoughts scattered, but after a few quiet breaths they shook their head as if to clear it from stray thoughts.
“You’re right”, they nodded, looking down at their hands and seemingly being surprised by the pen and half eaten slice of bread clasped between the fingers of each. Another breath and they set the pen down, Jean letting go of their hand to allow the movement.
“How late is it?”
“Almost nine”, Jean answered, strolling over to the high window through which he could see dark evening sky. There was still a hint of pale blue above the horizon where the sun had just recently disappeared. A few younger soldiers were still hanging about the stables but Jean was not in the mood to go and reprimand them. He had more important things to do.
“How was your meeting?”, he asked and was pleased to find Hanji in the process of devouring a second slice of bread topped with one of the cuts of meat he had been able to save for them. A long suffering groan told him all he needed to know.
“Don’t…”, they grumbled and Jean could barely keep from rolling his eyes at all the old military idiots who wouldn’t take Hanji’s genious seriously. The old bastards didn’t deserve them. Smith might have been amazing at playing their games, keeping them happy while taking care of what he had to take care of. Hanji on the other hand had no intentions of pretending which, while honorable and just what the idiots deserved, didn’t make it any easier for them to navigate the irrelevant political intricacies Smith had excelled at.
Despite the grumbly answer he had expected something more to follow as it usually did. The fact that Hanji didn’t say another word let him know just how difficult and frustrating the meeting must have been for them. So while Hanji kept devouring the dinner he’d brought them Jean walked over to the small sidetable and opened a bottle of whiskey, pouring roughly two fingers for his commander.
Hanji looked at him again when he set the glass down on the desk in front of them, eyebrows creased and lips curled into a fond smile.
“What would I do without you…?”, they sighed and Jean simply shrugged.
“Starve, probably.” It was as much a joke as the truth and they both acknowledged it with a quiet huff of laughter.
Jean waited patiently for Hanji to finish their meal in silence before grabbing the glass of whiskey and taking a sip. Their expression relaxed somewhat as they allowed themselves to lean back into the high chair, swivelling the amber liquid in the glass.
As good as forced breaks for food and a good drink were, there was one more thing Jean could do to help Hanji relax, one more thing he could provide right now to help them take care of all of them as best they could. So Jean slipped between his comamnder the heavy desk, falling to his knees with ease and getting comfortable.
As he reached up for the button of Hanji’s white uniform pants he noticed the owlish way they were blinking down at him with, confusion and disbelief as if it were the evry first time he was doing something like this for them. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be the last.
“You … you don’t have to”, Hanji said just like every time.
And just like every time Jean replied: “I know. I want to.”
They allowed him to continue after the short exchange, face relaxing when he removed both pants and underwear, both of them preferring the freedom that came with simply removing the irritating garments. With his hands on each pale thigh Jean spread Hanji’s legs and situated himself between them.
One last time he looked up at his commander, finding them sipping whisky as they watched him through half closed eyes. He took in the moment he helped create, the relaxation that was slowly seeping into the way Hanji carried themself. What he was doing here, the daunting task of keeping their commander alive and functional, it was working.
So when Jean finally dove in to give Hanji another way to relax he was smiling proudly. Anything for his commander.
~
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