JAWS (Complete)

Chapter 3

Jaws.

Reiner isn't even aware that he's moving again, that he's walking forward, until he's right up behind the trainer. He hears a snatch of their conversation-"Can you believe this shit, who just leaves a weight bench looking like this? Fucking animals, all of them!"-before he reaches up and taps the shorter trainer on the shoulder. He thinks, just for a second, as the man turns around that it won't be Jaws, it'll be someone else, because what are the odds, how would he find Jaws for a third time, and this time in the real world, where he can actually talk to him without a screen between them? Reiner Braun has never been that lucky.

But then the trainer turns around, and it is Jaws, his eyes widening as he takes in Reiner and recognizes him, and Reiner tries to smile but can't, not when he sees that sudden flash of fear skate across the surface of Jaws' eyes, there and then gone.

He opens his mouth, unsure what he's going to say, and Jaws doesn't help; he's just as frozen as Reiner, staring at him with an unreadable expression, his fave vacillating between fear and outrage, unable to settle on either one. They might have stood there forever, just staring at each other like a pair of wary cats, had one of the other trainers not stepped forward.

He's a taller guy, with buzzed dark hair-Franz, if Reiner remembers his name correctly-and he steps up next to them. "You guys okay? You look like you need to be rebooted."

A computer science graduate student, Reiner's brain helpfully supplies. Franz is a computer science grad student, and that's why he made that reference. As for anything actually useful, his mind remains silent.

"Uh..." Jaws glances from Reiner to Franz and then back again, his eyes like an animal's caught in a trap, and when he looks at Reiner, there's something pleading in his gaze, a temporary moment of weakness that jogs something in Reiner's chest.

Reiner mentally slaps himself, and looks down. Jaws' shirt has TRAINER stamped across the left side of the chest, and Reiner forces his face into a big smile and turns to Franz.

"I've been looking to up my game." Reiner can hear himself, so bluff and cheerful, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a split second of relief on Jaws' face, there and then gone. "So I thought I'd see what the professionals have to say."

"You want a trainer?" Franz sounds skeptical as he looks Reiner up and down. "No offense, man, but you look like whatever you're already doing is working."

"Shut up, Franz." Jaws has found his voice, and it comes out in a hiss. "If the man wants a training session, let him get a session!" Jaws reaches out and clamps one hand down on Reiner's arm, his grip just this side of painful, and starts trying to steer him away. Reiner doesn't catch on for just a fraction too long and nearly stumbles when they start moving, but Jaws either doesn't notice or doesn't care and very quickly hustles him away from the other trainers, pointing them towards the locker rooms.

Reiner lets himself be guided, admitting to himself that part of the reason is because it means Jaws has his hands on him, gripping his bicep and sometimes on the small of his back, and it feels good. It feels really good, even if Jaws is silent and foreboding next to him. Jaws shoves him into the locker room, steering him towards a secluded corner, and Reiner goes along without protest. It's not until Jaws slams him up against the lockers, hands fisted in his t-shirt, that Reiner starts to wake up a little.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Jaws hisses, his face just inches away from Reiner's. "The fuck are you doing, coming here? Are you stalking me, you piece of shit?"