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[snk ficlet] untitled
eren/jean, originally for the kinkmeme but the fill was already done and i wanted to deviate from the original prompt.
It starts on the day Jean flips Eren over his shoulder and waits for the instructor to critique their fight before he sneaks a quick kiss over Eren’s sweaty temple. Eren stares at Jean’s self-satisfied smirk, forgetting that the instructor wants them to hold their position, and yanks Jean down, but Jean’s already seen what he’s up to and puts his hand over Eren’s mouth, hard enough to muffle Eren’s angry yells of “I’ll get you back, just wait!”
Eren wins the next round by being the usual reckless ass that he is. Jean barely has time to squeeze the grips of his handles to slow his momentum before Eren literally crashes into his face and slingshots away with a mouthful of blood from Jean’s bleeding nose. They both lose points on their 3D maneuver exercise that day and Jean spends the afternoon in the infirmary yelling at Eren from an opened window, sounding even more petulant and nasally from his thoroughly swollen nose.
Jean, of course, perfects the move three days later by diving at just the right moment and right angle to deliver a tiny peck against Eren’s forehead. He swings around a tree before Eren can retaliate.
Connie starts to keep score, and Marco can somehow predict the outcome for each round; he wins a lot of bets that way and now he just does chores for fun to help the people who had lost their wagers to him.
Mikasa makes sure Eren doesn’t get too hurt and grimly offers her advice, if only to spare Eren another trip to the infirmary from when Jean dodges his latest sneak attack, and Eren goes tumbling off a cliff and into a lake.
(Jean lets Eren win that night, hovering over the lumpy infirmary cot and letting Eren’s bandaged hands run through his hair.)
They fight over Armin, who creates elaborate schemes for them as a kind of mental exercise. Most of his plans end in deliberate stalemates with no one kissing anyone at all, and eventually Eren and Jean stop asking Armin for help. Besides, Reiner starts accusing Marco and Armin of being in cahoots and rigging the betting pool.
Jean catches wind of the bets and starts to get a militant gleam in his eyes. Bertolt becomes his reluctant betting proxy since Marco flat out refuses to take part. It goes on nicely and Jean doesn’t have chores for an entire month before he realizes that Eren has stopped competing.
He corners Eren after drills and kisses him without a struggle or a fight. “Hey, what gives? You giving up?”
“Well, sometimes you lose on purpose and that’s no fun. Was it your turn to win today?” Eren huffs and walks off, leaving Jean annoyed and punching Marco on the shoulder at dinner in frustration.
“You two aren’t going to kiss for a while,” Marco predicts ominously.
Upon hearing this, the rest of the trainees at their table hurriedly place their bets. Jean punches Marco one more time.
Marco is, of course, right.
Weeks later everyone has moved on to predicting the weather by using Bertolt’s sleeping positions. Jean gains back his usual amount of chores, but his fascination with Bertolt’s ability to sleep sideways and dangling off his bed makes up for it.
“So what happens if he sleeps on the top bunk?” Connie asks.
They find out Bertolt ends up on the floor, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone except they find him under the lower bunk bed as well, curled up in a ball and completely stuck.
“Sunny, but cold,” Jean guesses. They are still trying to make a decoding chart.
“Warm, but cloudy,” Eren retorts, looking out the window. It’s barely dawn, so it’s still hard to tell.
Jean turns his head. “Are you stupid?”
“Um. Before you two starting fighting,” Bertolt begins, sounding pained. “Please help me.”
Later, once they had extracted Bertolt, Sasha leans in to listen to the boys’ early morning escapades.
“I went on a training mission with Bertl once,” she says over a mouthful of porridge. “We slept on the ground and he rolled over the campfire.”
“No,” says Reiner with an unexplainable amount of conviction. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t do that. He would have set himself on fire. There would be burns on him. Do you see any burn wounds on him? No.”
Connie looks at Bertolt, who looks down at his half-finished breakfast.
“I put myself out,” Bertolt explains awkwardly. “You know. By rolling. In my sleep.”
Surprisingly, the only person who laughs is Annie.
“By the way,” Marco announces while Annie tries to stifle her laughter and Eren and Jean continue their fist fight about the weather. “For a week’s worth of chores; Jean kisses Eren today.”
All the bets go in, and outside it starts pour rain, cloudy but cold.
It starts on the day Jean flips Eren over his shoulder and waits for the instructor to critique their fight before he sneaks a quick kiss over Eren’s sweaty temple. Eren stares at Jean’s self-satisfied smirk, forgetting that the instructor wants them to hold their position, and yanks Jean down, but Jean’s already seen what he’s up to and puts his hand over Eren’s mouth, hard enough to muffle Eren’s angry yells of “I’ll get you back, just wait!”
Eren wins the next round by being the usual reckless ass that he is. Jean barely has time to squeeze the grips of his handles to slow his momentum before Eren literally crashes into his face and slingshots away with a mouthful of blood from Jean’s bleeding nose. They both lose points on their 3D maneuver exercise that day and Jean spends the afternoon in the infirmary yelling at Eren from an opened window, sounding even more petulant and nasally from his thoroughly swollen nose.
Jean, of course, perfects the move three days later by diving at just the right moment and right angle to deliver a tiny peck against Eren’s forehead. He swings around a tree before Eren can retaliate.
Connie starts to keep score, and Marco can somehow predict the outcome for each round; he wins a lot of bets that way and now he just does chores for fun to help the people who had lost their wagers to him.
Mikasa makes sure Eren doesn’t get too hurt and grimly offers her advice, if only to spare Eren another trip to the infirmary from when Jean dodges his latest sneak attack, and Eren goes tumbling off a cliff and into a lake.
(Jean lets Eren win that night, hovering over the lumpy infirmary cot and letting Eren’s bandaged hands run through his hair.)
They fight over Armin, who creates elaborate schemes for them as a kind of mental exercise. Most of his plans end in deliberate stalemates with no one kissing anyone at all, and eventually Eren and Jean stop asking Armin for help. Besides, Reiner starts accusing Marco and Armin of being in cahoots and rigging the betting pool.
Jean catches wind of the bets and starts to get a militant gleam in his eyes. Bertolt becomes his reluctant betting proxy since Marco flat out refuses to take part. It goes on nicely and Jean doesn’t have chores for an entire month before he realizes that Eren has stopped competing.
He corners Eren after drills and kisses him without a struggle or a fight. “Hey, what gives? You giving up?”
“Well, sometimes you lose on purpose and that’s no fun. Was it your turn to win today?” Eren huffs and walks off, leaving Jean annoyed and punching Marco on the shoulder at dinner in frustration.
“You two aren’t going to kiss for a while,” Marco predicts ominously.
Upon hearing this, the rest of the trainees at their table hurriedly place their bets. Jean punches Marco one more time.
Marco is, of course, right.
Weeks later everyone has moved on to predicting the weather by using Bertolt’s sleeping positions. Jean gains back his usual amount of chores, but his fascination with Bertolt’s ability to sleep sideways and dangling off his bed makes up for it.
“So what happens if he sleeps on the top bunk?” Connie asks.
They find out Bertolt ends up on the floor, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone except they find him under the lower bunk bed as well, curled up in a ball and completely stuck.
“Sunny, but cold,” Jean guesses. They are still trying to make a decoding chart.
“Warm, but cloudy,” Eren retorts, looking out the window. It’s barely dawn, so it’s still hard to tell.
Jean turns his head. “Are you stupid?”
“Um. Before you two starting fighting,” Bertolt begins, sounding pained. “Please help me.”
Later, once they had extracted Bertolt, Sasha leans in to listen to the boys’ early morning escapades.
“I went on a training mission with Bertl once,” she says over a mouthful of porridge. “We slept on the ground and he rolled over the campfire.”
“No,” says Reiner with an unexplainable amount of conviction. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t do that. He would have set himself on fire. There would be burns on him. Do you see any burn wounds on him? No.”
Connie looks at Bertolt, who looks down at his half-finished breakfast.
“I put myself out,” Bertolt explains awkwardly. “You know. By rolling. In my sleep.”
Surprisingly, the only person who laughs is Annie.
“By the way,” Marco announces while Annie tries to stifle her laughter and Eren and Jean continue their fist fight about the weather. “For a week’s worth of chores; Jean kisses Eren today.”
All the bets go in, and outside it starts pour rain, cloudy but cold.