𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈 : 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

The night might have been warm, humid, and noisy with crickets and owls alike, but you had never once felt so cold and quiet in your entire life. Even Death held more heat than your own beating heart.

The cold reminded you that your life would never have changed without Jean's unavoidable interference. All the terribleness this summer stemmed directly from him. Had it not been for Jean's obsessive savior complex, the Sergeant would never have set his sights on you. He cursed you with the same affection you had come to adore so ardently. Once again, Jean was one of your life's greatest confliction. You couldn't decide whether to slap him across the cheek or to kiss them with all your available affection, but you leaned toward the former.

After so much stewing atop your high horse, you finally reached the barn. Jean's outstretched hand offered to support you on the way down. You put the basket in that hand and ignored his helpful gesture.

"You've brought me home," you stiffly stated as you began tearing off leather and cloth from Voltaire's back. "Go see Mr. Arlert like you planned and head back to the Yeagers before sunrise."

"I made no plans to see Armin," Jean replied

"Eren said that–"

"Do you believe Yeager would allow me to stay here if he knew we share a bed? I told him lies to be with you. And we have much to discuss."

You turned to catch a small glimpse of him, but under the barn's cover, it was too dark to determine if Jean matched your stare or studied the ground.

"I have nothing to discuss with the likes of you. Your loose lips are the reason tonight nearly ended so terribly," you said.

"I was only–"

"Trying to put Eren in an early grave? Congratulations. You nearly succeeded."

Jean exhaled a frustrated huff. "Why are you difficult?"

"If you are so stupid that you can't see it, then there is no use explaining it."

Jean's breaths echoed through the frozen stillness. He said, "I see your voice has regained much of its strength."

"Do you take issue with that?" you asked. "Are you not accustomed to women talking back?"

"You have always talked back. That much is nothing new. But you were mostly reasonable before."

You answered his dig by walking Voltaire's saddle and blanket to their hooks in the wall. As soon as they were hung, you planned to make a hasty exit to the house and leave this night behind you. That idea, however, quickly flipped on its stomach as you found yourself being hoisted into the air and thrown over Jean's shoulder.

"Put me down!" you bellowed as you began pounding the sides of your fists into his back with hollow thuds.

"Keep wailing. Any louder, and Niccolo will wake."

That silenced your thrashing. You had been fortunate thus far that your nightly drugging had gone unnoticed. As angry as you were, you wouldn't take an additional risk until you were far enough away for sounds to be muffled by distance.

Jean carried you through the grass and past all the trees until you could see your distant home from the tallness of his shoulder. Even as he jiggled open the door to the cabin and locked it behind him, he kept you locked to his skin.

He tossed you onto the mattress like you were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He placed Lucy's basket much more delicately than he had you and turned far too quickly for you to make out whatever expression marked his face. Freeing your kitten from her wicker cage, she purred perfectly on your lap as though all was right with the world.