*JEAN KIRSCHSTEIN*
Reiner Braun: hi
Jean Kirschstein: hey!
Jean Kirschstein: how's everything going?
Reiner Braun: good
Reiner Braun: a lot better now
Reiner Braun: had a few rough months there
Jean Kirschstein: ah
Jean Kirschstein: yeah, I know
Jean Kirschstein: sorry about that
Reiner Braun: how did you know?
Jean Kirschstein: ???
Reiner Braun: about how I was doing
Jean Kirschstein: I asked Bert
Jean Kirschstein: and Ymir volunteered some stuff
Reiner Braun: I'm sure she did
Jean Kirschstein: yeah
Jean Kirschstein: so you're doing better?
Jean Kirschstein: I mean, obviously you are
Jean Kirschstein: I heard about your new guy
Jean Kirschstein: congrats
Reiner Braun: legit congrats?
Jean Kirschstein: the most legit!
Jean Kirschstein: I'm genuinely happy for you
Jean Kirschstein: Bert says he's a good guy
Reiner Braun: Bertolt just likes having a fresh audience for embarrassing stories
Jean Kirschstein: who doesn't?
Reiner Braun: are you busy this week?
Jean Kirschstein: um
Jean Kirschstein: as long as no new cases pop up
Jean Kirschstein: I'm in court most of this week
Reiner Braun: you made detective?
Jean Kirschstein: I did!
Reiner Braun: congratulations
Jean Kirschstein: thank you
Jean Kirschstein: do you want to meet for lunch or something?
Reiner Braun: yes
Jean Kirschstein: okay, cool
Jean Kirschstein: you remember that diner near the courthouse?
Reiner Braun: sure
Jean Kirschstein: Tuesday around 1 work for you?
Reiner Braun: that's fine
Jean Kirschstein: okay
Jean Kirschstein: see you then
~*~
By the time Tuesday rolls around and they're walking to the diner, Jean is so nervous his hands are shaking, and he starts dragging his feet.
Marco notices-of course he does, he notices everything-and slows his own pace, tilting his head and watching Jean out of his one eye. "You okay?"
"Yes. No." Jean grits his teeth, irritated at his indecision, and manages a few long, rapid steps before slowing down again. "I don't know."
Marco is still watching him-the bastard barely had to stretch his legs to keep up-and Jean knows that look. "Are you sure you want to see him?"
"Don't." Jean holds a hand up, and Marco closes his mouth. "It's not like that. It's not like one of our cases."
"Okay." Marco is nothing if not agreeable, and he drops the topic. "I've just never seen you this nervous before."
Jean's going to need a bigger bite splint, the way he's grinding his teeth today. "It's... complicated."
More complicated than Marco knows. He knows about Reiner, at least a little bit, but he doesn't know all the details. He doesn't know about how Jean found Reiner's computer with a window open to a men's wedding ring page; he doesn't know about the way Reiner kept dropping hints about getting married, and how it had felt like a vise closing in Jean's chest every time he did; he doesn't know about Reiner's mother, and how she always mispronounced Jean's name, always leaning a little too hard into a hard e sound for it to be a coincidence, and the way she'd watched Jean, like a predator trying to decide if the brightly colored prey is worth a possible poisoning. Marco knows a lot about Jean-it'd be hard for him not to, after ten months sitting next to him in the office and in a squad car-but Jean hasn't told him all the details.
Jean can't tell him all the details, much as he might want to. Marco is his work partner, and a man who holds strict to the force's policies on outside fraternization. It doesn't matter that he's basically grown into Jean's best friend, now that Reiner is out of Jean's life, or that he'd probably understand a lot of what Jean wants to tell him.
There has to be some distance between them. Things get too complicated if there isn't.
It's probably a bad idea to have Marco with him today, but Reiner had messaged last night and mentioned that his new boyfriend was tagging along. With anyone else, Jean would think that was a power move, designed to show off how he's moved on, but he thinks Reiner's motives are more pure. Jean thinks that maybe, just maybe, Reiner is as worried and nervous as he is, and needs the moral support. After what he put Reiner through, Jean knows he can't deny Reiner that.
But he'd also been deeply, deeply grateful when Marco had offered, breezily and casually, like he isn't aware how fraught this situation is, to come with him.
Jean pauses when they get to the big plate window of the diner, and peers inside. Marco stands beside him, placid and powerful at the same time, his broad hands in the pockets of his suit coat, and studies the clouds while Jean scans the diner with a beat cop's eyes. It doesn't take him long to spot Reiner.
He's sitting with his back to the door, a habit he'd picked up while with Jean, who always wanted to be able to see the exit, and the fact that he's still doing it tugs at Jean's heartstrings. It's crazy, the things you pick up from each other and then carry with you. Jean can only see his back, but he looks... he looks good. Jean had almost forgotten how broad Reiner's shoulders are, and how they stretch the fabric of his shirts. He had forgotten how Reiner's hair catches the sunlight, and the way it shines gold, or how Reiner always sits with one arm draped over the back of a booth seat. Once upon a time, Jean would have scooted under that draping arm, and he has to swallow at the sudden onslaught of memories.
"It's not easy, is it?" Marco asks softly, and Jean shakes his head. No... no, it's not easy.
Easier to focus on the man sitting across from Reiner. Jean can't see much of him, not with Reiner's shoulders blocking him, but he catches a glimpse of red hair, slicked back and laying flat against the man's skull, and a bright, attentive face, animated and paying attention to whatever Reiner is saying. Then Reiner throws his head back, laughing at something the man said, and Jean rapidly blinks his eyes.
He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't know it was going to be this hard.
Marco touches Jean's arm, snagging his attention away from the scene before them. "Come on." His voice is soft and soothing, but also brooks no room for argument. "Waiting won't make it any easier."
Jean nods. "Yeah. Yeah, it won't." He gently brushes off Marco's hand, squares his shoulders, and strides into the diner.
A bell chimes as they enter, and Reiner turns in his seat. His eyes meet Jean's, and the first thing Jean notices is how good Reiner looks. Not only handsome-he's always been one of the most handsome men Jean has ever seen-but just good, healthy and fit and almost glowing with happiness. Had he ever looked like that when they were together? Did Jean ever make him that happy?
Reiner starts to get out of the booth, and Jean manages to crack a smile as he crosses the diner, his hand already extended to shake. "Hey, man..."
Reiner completely ignores Jean's hand and goes in for a hug, a quick, masculine embrace, complete with a thump on the back, and it's the most relieving thing Jean has ever received. Reiner never hugged him like that, fast and informal and affectionate but not loving, when they were together, and if Jean has been demoted to this kind of hug, it means that they're really, really not together anymore. Reiner has moved on, thank god, and Jean's smile sits more comfortably on his face as they pull apart.
"Hey." Reiner smiles at him, holding Jean out at an arm's length so he can look at him. "Look at you, wearing a suit and testifying and being a detective."
"Hey." Behind Reiner, the other guy stands up, his expression pensive and brooding, but Marco smoothly steps around Jean and intercepts him. "Look at you. Shit, did your shoulders get wider?"
That makes Reiner grin, and for some reason, his new boyfriend perks up when he hears that. "I'm benching three hundred now."
Jean whistles. "Damn."
Reiner nods in agreement. "Damn."
"Hi." Reiner's new boyfriend has escaped Marco, and shoves his hand at Jean to shake. Up close, he's good looking enough; broad and muscular, not terribly tall, about Jean's height, with a boyish face and upturned nose, and bright, inquisitive hazel eyes. His hair is what makes him stand out, red-blond and shining, slicked back but still catching the light, the first scruff of a reddish beard growing across his jaw. "I'm Galliard."
Jean shakes his hand, well-prepared for the absolutely crushing handshake Galliard delivers, and waits for the rest of his name. Galliard just eyes him, and Jean realizes that's all he's getting. "Jean Kirschstein. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"And I'm Marco Bott." Marco slides in-between them, a master of de-escalation, and offers Galliard his hand. "Jean and I are partners."
"Work partners," Jean clarifies, even though the thought of being Marco's partner-partner makes his heart flutter.
Galliard looks back and forth between them for a moment, his eyes narrowing, then lets go of Jean's hand and turns his attention to Marco. "So you're a cop too?"
"Yes." Marco smiles winningly at Galliard, and Jean can see him thaw out a little. It's that Marco Bott magic, the kind that soothes the most frantic, anxious victims and chips away at obtuse, reluctant suspects, and Jean only hopes he can someday be half the officer Marco is. "Seven years on the force now. Do you want to go grab some lunch with me and listen to cop stories?"
Reiner chuckles under his breath. "Watch out, Galliard; once you get a cop going on work stories, it's hard to stop them."
Galliard glances back at Reiner, his eyes narrowed a little, one eyebrow lofted skyward, and Jean sees Reiner nod from the corner of his eye. Then Galliard's attention is back on Marco, and he grabs Marco's arm and starts leading him deeper into the diner. As they pass by, Jean hears Galliard ask "So what happened to your eye?"
Reiner watches them go, his expression soft and fond. "What did happen to his eye?"
"Shrapnel from a stray bullet." Jean slides into the booth Galliard had vacated, the vinyl seat still warm from Galliard's body. "He can still see out of it if he wears glasses, but the eyepatch plays better to juries."
Reiner grimaces as he sits back down, his hands immediately reaching for the chipped white mug of coffee on the table. "I can imagine."
"Like lawyers don't have their own tricks."
Reiner shrugs with one shoulder. "Fair enough."
It's acceptance where there would have once been an argument, and Jean feels something unclench in his chest, even as they descend into slightly awkward silence. The waitress comes by and distracts them for a few moments-yes, the other guy is over there now; yes, he still wants his sandwich; Jean will take a tuna melt and a Sprite, please-but that's not enough for the frost between them to completely thaw. What do you say to someone when you know you broke their heart?
Jean is pondering that exact question when Reiner clears his throat. "You look like you're doing well, Jean. I'm glad."
"Thank you." Even now, Jean craves Reiner's approval, and he tries a hesitant smile at him. "You look like you are, too. Galliard seems like a good guy."
Just as Jean expected, that makes Reiner smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and dropping ten years off his face, making him look positively boyish. "He is. He's... he's really great. He means a lot to me." Reiner lifts his head a little, looking over his shoulder to the booth where Galliard and Marco have set up camp. Jean can see them too, and it looks like they're deep into some kind of debate, with Marco leaning forward with his hands clasped together, the way he does when they're talking to suspects. It's a move that only Marco, only charming, guileless Marco, can pull off; Jean has tried it and had it completely backfire on him. "Marco seems pretty interesting too."
"He is. He's helped me a lot with getting settled at the force."
Reiner turns back around, lifting one of his thin eyebrows. "Are you two more than just work partners?"
Jean shakes his head. "No."
He hopes that will be the end of this line of questioning, but no such luck. Reiner tilts his head a bit, watching him with bright, inquisitive eyes. "Do you want to be?"
Jean huffs frustrated laughter and pulls a sugar packet out of the table's caddy so he can shred it to pieces. "Still playing matchmaker, huh?"
Reiner shrugs. "I like my friends to be happy."
Jean can tell from the expression on Reiner's face that they come to the same realization at the same time: Reiner just called Jean his friend. After everything they went through, Reiner still, on some level, thinks of Jean as his friend.
The silence stretches between them, taut and agonized, only broken when the waitress shows up to drop off their food. Thank god for diners and their fast service, but it's time. It's time to face this thing, and as he reaches for the ketchup, Jean asks the question he's been wondering about ever since he got Reiner's text. "Why did you want to see me, Reiner?"
Reiner doesn't answer immediately; instead, he watches as Jean douses his fries with ketchup, and there's a look on his face that's caught between humor and sadness, and it takes Jean a moment to place. It's nostalgia. Reiner is nostalgic for the stupid way Jean likes to drown his fries in sugar tomato paste.
"I wanted to ask you something. And to see how you're doing." Reiner lifts his eyes from Jean's plate, and the corner of his mouth crooks up into a smile. "I'm really glad you're doing well, Jean. Honestly and truly."
"Thank you." From behind them, Jean hears Marco laugh at something Galliard must have said, and he smiles back at Reiner, his first real smile all day. "That means a lot to me."
Reiner's smile widens, and for a couple of seconds, all the tension and awkwardness dissipates, and Jean remembers why he fell in love with Reiner in the first place.
"But I need to know: why did you leave?"
And there it is: the big question, the one Jean knew he was going to be asked, and the one that feels like it sucks all the air out of the room. He breaks eye contact, and stabs a french fry with a fork, lifting the dripping mess to his mouth and chewing to buy himself more time.
Reiner just waits for him, patient and placid, and Jean can't even be mad at him. He knew this was coming, after all; Reiner has a right to ask this, and considering that he's met someone new, he has the right to know.
"I wasn't cheating on you." Jean lifts his eyes to meet Reiner's, as solemn and as serious as he's ever been. "I never did."
Reiner's jaw gapes open. "How did you..."
Jean lifts an eyebrow. "How did I know you thought that?"
Reiner has the good grace to look flustered. "Yeah."
"Bertolt told me." Ymir did as well, in a colorful, expletive-and-threat-laden rant, but Jean sees no need to bring that up. "It wasn't anything like that. I didn't have anyone else, and there hasn't been anyone since you."
Jean could comment here on how quickly Reiner seems to have replaced him, but he won't. He gets it, on some level; Reiner needs to be loved a lot more than Jean does. No matter what happens in his personal life, Jean knows that his mom has his back, and that his extended family, while they might not always understand him, support him in their own ways. Reiner doesn't have any of that, and has, consciously or not, spent his entire adult life seeking it out.
Jean plans on spending the entire afternoon, after their case is done, grilling Marco for information about Galliard, and if he seems like the kind of guy who's up to the task. Reiner might not be Jean's anymore, but that doesn't mean Jean wants him miserable and constantly seeking.
"Okay." Reiner is shifting nervously in his seat. "I owe you an apology then."
Jean waves a hand at him. "None needed. I didn't exactly leave you with much to go on, did I? You latched on to what made sense."
Reiner nods, and he's wearing his lawyer face now, pensive and considering, and Jean can practically hear the synapses firing in his head. "So, if there wasn't anyone else... why, then? What did I do wrong?"
Jean winces, and draws back a little. It was the tone of Reiner's voice, the way he'd sounded like the abandoned little boy he'd once been, that stabbed into Jean's chest like a blade, and he reaches across the table to touch Reiner's wrist. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Reiner shakes his head and draws his wrist out of Jean's reach, refusing to be comforted. "I must have done something."
"It wasn't anything you were doing on purpose."
"But it was something."
Jean sighs; he knows that when Reiner gets an idea in his head, he's not going to let it go. He's also not wrong, and won't let Jean off the hook. "When are you happiest, Reiner?"
Reiner's brows knit together in an all-too-familiar expression of stubbornness, and Jean starts to mentally prepare himself for a battle. But then Reiner's forehead smoothes out, he takes a sip of coffee while thinking, and answers readily enough.
"When I have something to do. I like having projects that I'm working on."
Jean nods, surprised and not a little delighted by Reiner's self-assessment. That came impressively fast, which means Reiner might have already been thinking about it for some reason, something in his life finally inspiring him to dig a little deeper into his own psyche, to try and iron out some of the damage done to him by his past.
Somewhere else in the diner, Galliard laughs, the sound drifting towards them, undercut by Marco's low chuckle. Something, or someone.
"Yeah. You like your projects."
Reiner shrugs. "Always have."
Jean nods in agreement, then leans forward, both hands on the table, looking Reiner right in the face. This is it, this is important, this is what Reiner needs to know and understand. "Reiner... I'm not a project."
Reiner sits back, his eyebrows rising in clear shock. "I never...!"
"Not on purpose," Jean breaks in, needing to clarify, already afraid he's making a mess of this. "I know you weren't doing it on purpose, but..." He sighs, feeling the old pain rise up in his chest, the scars that never truly healed making themselves known again. "But my whole life, I've been treated like I was broken, like there was something wrong with me, and when... and when you started planning everything out, when I knew you were... you were thinking about a life together, about getting married, I... I couldn't. I couldn't live my life with you feeling like you were always trying to fix me."
Reiner looks baffled, and Jean braces himself against what he knows is coming. "How did you know I was going to ask you to marry me?"
It's an easier, softer question than Jean was anticipating, and he manages a shaky smile. "You weren't exactly subtle about it. But I knew for sure when I asked Bertolt and he confirmed it."
"Bertolt." Reiner's expression clouds over. "I told him not to say anything."
"I'm glad he did." Jean needs to steer the conversation away from this particular topic; the last thing he wants is to drive a wedge between Reiner and Bertolt. He's frankly jealous of their bond and their history; all of his own childhood friends have been lost to time and transition. "He told me because he knew I was having doubts."
Reiner looks stricken by that, the years dropping off his face, his shoulders hunching down defensively. Jean can't remember ever seeing him look this raw, this exposed, before, and he's glad Reiner has his back to Galliard and Marco. He thinks that if Galliard were to see this expression, he'd be charging over here to defend Reiner, and Marco might be tagging along with him. "You didn't love me?"
"I always loved you, Reiner." Jean says it softly, his voice pitched low enough that Reiner has to lean forward to hear. "I didn't want that ruined."
"I don't understand."
"I know." And that had been the hardest part, the part that had laid Jean low and miserable for months after leaving: knowing how badly he'd hurt Reiner, and how Reiner wouldn't have understood why. He'd almost broken down a dozen times, a hundred times, and called or texted, wanting to explain himself and be granted absolution. It had been Bertolt who had talked him back, who had gently, quietly steered him away from the destructive impulse, and told him to give Reiner time.
If Reiner doesn't realize how much Bertolt has his back, and how much deep, simple affection Bertolt has for him, then he's a fool.
"I thought about it, you know." Jean stares deep into his coffee cup, unable to meet Reiner's eyes. "I thought about letting you propose, and saying yes."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because we want different things." It's something Jean has known for a long time, but it's the first time he's ever vocalized it. "You want a family, and a house in the suburbs, and kids, and a dog." Reiner starts when he mentions dogs, but Jean plows on. "If we'd have ended up together, if we'd gotten married, you would have pushed for that. You know you would have pushed for that."
"Don't you want that too?"
Jean shakes his head. "Maybe someday, but not yet. Not now. I'm finally where I want to be, I'm finally doing what I want to do, and I need to do everything I couldn't when I was younger." He looks at Reiner, almost begging him to understand. "I made detective, and I'm out there doing good work; I'm helping people and putting away shitholes that hurt people like us, like me, and it's where I need to be. But if we were married..."
Reiner interrupts, his voice soft and thoughtful. "I wouldn't want you out there."
"Yes!" Jean's voice rises in excitement. "You'd want me to work in a small town, finding lost dogs and doing fundraisers at the elementary schools, and I..." His voice catches a little. "And that would kill me. I would be miserable doing that, but I'd do it for you, and it would make me start to hate you. And... and I don't want to hate you." Jean scrubs at his eyes with one hand, hating the sudden, traitorous tears rising up in them. "I knew this would be hard, and that it was shitty to just take off like I did, but I figured it would be better to do it this way than to get twenty years down the road and realize we both couldn't stand each other."
Reiner is quiet for a moment, and Jean looks down at his plate, trying to get his rampaging emotions under control. Then he feels something touch his wrist, and when he looks up, Reiner is smiling at him, and lightly touching the back of his hand.
"I don't hate you."
Jean makes a gargling sound that's mostly a laugh, and for just a moment, they're holding hand across the table, and things are okay between them again. "I'm sorry, Reiner. I should've done it better than that."
"You should have." Reiner squeezes his hand before letting it go. "But I understand why now. And I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I never, ever thought there was anything wrong with you, or anything that needed to be fixed."
And that really does make Jean tear up, and Reiner quietly eats his lunch and waits for Jean to get himself back under control.
"So!" Reiner is all bright and perky when Jean finally looks back up, his eyes red-rimmed and his nose snotty, but feeling better than he has in months. "Tell me about Marco!"
Jean can't help but laugh a little. "He's my work partner. We work Hate Crimes together."
"Is that like sex crimes?"
"Mostly." Jean makes a face and stabs a french fry with his fork, his appetite suddenly returning. "The captain put Marco and I on it as a joke, I think. But then it turns out that the kind of people who get victimized by hate crimes respond better to us, so it worked out pretty well."
"Sounds hard."
"It's really hard. But it's something that needs to be done." It's hideously hard, emotionally draining like nothing Jean has ever experienced before, but it's also exhilarating, intoxicating; it's easy to get drunk on the knowledge that he's making a difference, that he and Marco are changing things, and for the better, and that they're helping the people who need it the most. They're helping their people, and Jean has gotten used to that flash of recognition, that sudden realization from victims when they realize they're among friends and people who understand, and that makes the long hours and emotional fatigue worth it.
Reiner is watching him, watching with that laser intensity he has, and Jean is suddenly embarrassed. "What?"
Reiner shakes his head a little and smiles. "I don't think I ever saw you this passionate about work before."
"I was a beat cop before!" Jean waves a french fry dramatically, almost splattering them both with ketchup. "I was handing out traffic violations and chasing down thugs! And you know how hard it was to prove I was 'one of the guys!'"
"I know." Reiner's voice is quiet. "Is it still like that?"
Jean snorts, aggravated now. "Of course it is. New department, new captain, who thought it was fucking adorable to out me on the first day-and yes, I bitched to HR and he got reprimanded about it, which made me SUPER popular." Jean shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "If it wasn't for Marco, I would have washed out in a week."
"Does Marco know?"
"Of course he does." Jean would have told him, since they were going to be partners, but then the captain took that opportunity away from him.
"Does he care?"
"No." Jean glances over Reiner's shoulder, seeing Marco's dark head bent towards Galliard's reddish-blond one, and he feels that old, familiar ache in his chest, the one he's never quite been able to shake, the one that Reiner couldn't drive away and that Jean has just decided he has to live with. "He's been nothing but cool about it."
"So..." Reiner spreads his hands, looking at Jean expectantly.
Jean glares back. Only Reiner could go from having a conversation about getting his heart broken to wingmanning so quickly. "So what?"
"Sooooo..." A slow, knowing grin starts to spread across Reiner's face, and Jean comes very close to throwing a french fry at him.
"No." Jean holds up a hand. "I don't have it in me to have this conversation right now."
"You deserve to be happy, you know."
"So do you!"
"I am." Reiner blinks at that, and then repeats it, like he can't quite believe it himself. "I'm happy."
Jean waits a moment, but Reiner doesn't speak up again, looking a bit dazed at his sudden realization. "Good." Jean puts his fry projectile down and reaches out to pat Reiner's arm. "I'm glad."
Reiner nods, and smiles, bright and beatific. It's the smile Jean fell in love with, years ago, but now it just makes him feel warm. It no longer has the power to make his heart skip a beat. "You should still fuck Marco, though."
Jean put his french fry down too soon. "I'm not in the mood to explain things right now."
"I figured it out! And I was dumb as shit at first!"
"Yeah." Jean grins, arching an eyebrow; this is better than a thrown french fry. "You really were."
"Thanks."
"A quick study, though."
"A quick study for what?"
Jean and Reiner both jump and swivel in their seats; Marco and Galliard are standing next to the booth, and Marco has his head tilted in that way he does, smiling softly, openly, and this time, Jean's heart does jog a little in his chest.
"Learning cop stuff," Reiner fills in smoothly, and Galliard slides into the booth beside him, pushing Reiner out of the way with his hip so he can attack Reiner's remaining fries.
"Ah." Marco smiles politely, then turns his attention to Jean. "Are you guys done? I don't want to rush you, but we're due back in court in ten minutes."
If Marco says ten, it's really fifteen, as he's constitutionally unable to be late for anything ever, but Jean slips out of his seat and stands next to him. "We good, Reiner?"
"Yes." Reiner leans out around Galliard, who is now going after Jean's leftover fries. "We're good. Thanks for coming today, Jean."
"No problem."
"It was nice meeting you, Galliard," Marco says sweetly, and Galliard looks up, swallowing his mouthful of food and grinning.
"Nice meeting you too. Send me a text sometime, okay?"
"I will." And Jean knows Marco actually will, and that Reiner and Galliard will slowly start to seep into his life, and he wonders if he'll be allowed to be a part of it too.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
A/N:
2 chapters left 😊👋
And i have an announcement after I update the last chapter