It had been a while since they'd been able to spend time alone with one another-between freshman year of college and other obligations, what with Marco getting a part time job and Jean putting in volunteer hours in the chemistry lab, it was impossible to hang out as a group half the time, let alone as just the two of them. Nine times out of ten, when one person was off of work for the day, the other was just going in, had papers due, or had some familial obligation or another to contend with. It seemed to be putting some small amount of pressure on all of their friendships and honestly no one was hanging out with anyone as much as they used to. After all, this was the time in life where you rather unfortunately began to see what friends were really friends and what ones weren't. It was one of Life's harsher realities, understanding first hand that your high school relationships often didn't translate into life-long friendships.
But from Jean's perspective there also seemed to be a bit of extra stress on just them. He and Marco rarely saw one another now. They used to hang out nearly every day after class and one was over the others' house so often on weekends that their mothers both just called them their collective sons. It was a running joke between their families that they were long lost soul twins finally come back into one area. Lately though they'd gotten to see one another a few times within a month, and not a one of those times allowed them to recoup as best friends on their own.
They still got to chatting every night over Messenger or Skype or whatever was easiest for them at the time. Marco still sent Jean snaps of him lounging in the sun watching one of his fifty friggen siblings or making some awful face over his literal piles of homework he took home weekly. It just felt like the conversations were getting duller, less intimate, more stressing about finals and less 'hey how was your day.' It was starting to really make Jean feel like there was something wrong between the both of them. He didn't say anything, didn't behave differently, because neither did Marco so why should he? But he still felt like there wasn't time for them, wasn't time for intimacy, wasn't time for just them.
'Just them.' What did that even mean? He wiped a finger under his nose only half consciously, taking a lengthy and contemplative pull off of his vodka cooler and making a face at the flavor. There was no way that was watermelon lime. Disgusting, but sure as hell not watermelon lime. Who the hell even did the marketing for these things anyways? Like seriously what moron put those flavors together and thought 'Hey this is vaguely reminiscent of watermelon and cleaning product mixed with medicine, let's vodka that shit up!'
With a small sigh he let his thoughts return to themselves and he really focused this time. What did 'just them' mean...? They weren't an item, they were best friends. Yeah? That wasn't to say they hadn't done their small share of experimenting when they were younger but what friends didn't do that kinda shit together anyways? It just hadn't progressed further than the experimental stage because, well. Just because.
He and Marco had kissed once more recently though. It had been at the last party they'd gone to together at Connie's place. It was a late night after mid-terms and everyone was in hardcore de-stress mode and by this time, party swinging and music screaming, most of them were more than a little sloshed. SO it came about that Jean, Eren, Marco, and Annie were all racing to see who could slam down ten birthday cake shots the fastest (granted, it wasn't one of their brightest moments, because that shit was strong) and by the end of it, Eren and Annie had dared the other two to make out, for whatever weird voyeuristic shit faced pleasure they could get.
Things had gotten a little steamy and Jean in his drunken geniusness had told the brunette that he loved his freckles and wanted to kiss every single one of them in between their sloppy battle of tongue and lip. He then overzealously told him he'd trace each one into the skies because even the stars couldn't rival their sweet kind of beauty. And Marco, well, he was just as gone as everyone else, so he had teared up and cried all over Jean about how he'd always kind of hated his freckles because he used to get teased for them. Somewhere in the comforting and the weeping, their lips had collided once again and they'd really kissed and no one else was there to see it because Eren had passed out on the couch and Annie was probably upstairs puking.
And then that was it. The next morning when party stragglers were clearing out before they got roped into cleaning up, Jean and Marco stayed as always to help Eren tidy everything up without Mikasa and... Nothing. Not even awkwardness on Marco's part. Just... A whole lot of fuck all. So Jean had done the only thing he found to be rational: he acted like nothing happened. The brunette probably didn't remember because face it, black-out drunkenness wasn't all that mythical last night, and it was better if he didn't recall Jean's completely shitfaced confession of... Whatever it was he felt toward him. Better for everyone too if they didn't remember how grossly they probably kissed anyways.
Another sigh and another long drink of that nasty cooler as the blonde's thoughts shifted back into the present momentarily and Jean could feel his lips going a bit numb from the alcohol. Numb was good. Numb from alcohol was even better. He knew what to do with numbness like that. Alcohol dulled the senses and the gag reflex, funny enough. In fact, after realizing Marco must not reciprocate the feelings, he'd stayed around the next day and somehow after four or so shots of Fireball he and Eren found out in a lovely way that his gag reflex was more or less numbed out. It hadn't taken long for a blowjob to transform into full-on fucking and it didn't occur to Jean until later that it was because Mikasa had dumped Eren that night in the basement and Eren too was attempting to numb out on whatever and whomever he could.
Numb was okay right now. Numb was starting to feel like what he desperately needed, alone in a garage with multi-colored lights playing against his eyes and speakers with bass that threatened to cave in his chest cavity. What wasn't okay was that bit of emotion starting to chisel its way through his heart and into his tear ducts. Here he was lying with his ass in a stack of tires at Eren's place, getting ready to help him host a party so the poor kid could try to get over the fact that he and Mikasa were no longer a thing, and he was so far in his own head that he hadn't even gotten to fixing up the snack table like he'd intended. Granted they'd both been drinking quite a bit and it was more than fun at the time, taking pot-shots at each other and occasionally macking on one another, but with Eren in the shower and Jean completely alone, he had too much time to spend in his own damn thoughts and apparently not enough of it to spend setting up a good party. So it was with a start and a bit of a hushed breath that was something akin to a gasp that he noticed Marco walk into the spacious area, smiling sunshine and sweetness as always and already stepping to the beat of the skull shattering bass as he took in the less-messy-than-usual floor space.
It took scant seconds for Marco to spot his friend; when he did, he threw up an excited hand and waved a quick greeting as he walked over. Jean had only moments to try to compose himself and to put a nice firm clamp on the flutter in his stomach and the tightness in his chest in spotting his best friend... Or romantic interest or... whatever he was.
"It's been a while Jean!" Marco bubbled happily, voice raised to a shout over the music and eyes sparkling with exuberance and his pleasant nature. "I'm really glad we can finally hang out again man I missed chilling with you! It's been way too long!"
Jean's world felt like it was going to topple and freeze simultaneously and only some of it had to do with his copious alcohol consumption. Maybe he'd been worrying for nothing after all. Marco said he was excited to see him so why did he think shit had gone weird? Had he been infamously reading into things way too much once again, or had he been the one making shit the way it was or...?
With a mental shake to bring himself to planet You're-At-A-Fucking-Party, Jean slapped one of his boisterous grins onto his numbed out lips and with all the false arrogance of his world drawled back, "Yeah man it's been fuckin ages! Maybe after finals we can do this shit more often! S'been way too damn long since they boys've been able to do somethin' fun like this!"
Marco responded with a quick nod before motioning vaguely to the drink table still yet to be set up properly but stacked with alcohol and punch nonetheless. Jean nodded in kind and let the taller man help yank his scrawny ass out of the tires, laughing and making snide comments all the while as he restocked his own alcohol and Marco snagged a couple drinks of his own. They shot the shit a while, continuing to set up the tables (drink and snack tables, beer pong, a few board games, standard fare for what they hoped would be a decent sized crowd to help Eren cheer up) and waited on the host himself to be fresh and ready for his big night.
With the party not actually due to start for another half hour (Marco having shown up early intentionally to help out as it were), they mostly sat around chatting and drinking, catching up in the manner of ages-old friends. The longer it went on, the further into his own skull Jean realized he was going. He wasn't his usual happy, drunk off his ass self. He wasn't obnoxiously loud, overtly sexual, or a bit more than over-the-top. He wasn't any of that. And Marco, well Marco was very perceptive and very in tune and way too smart for Jean's own good, and of course he realized something was up. "Hey man what's goin' on you've been quiet," he asked in the middle of Jean rattling off something or other useless about how bitchy Eren has been without Mikasa around. It took the blonde off guard, naturally. Way too off guard. Because instead of stalling, he said the first damnable thing that came to his mind, blanching practically even as he did as he realized the truth he'd been avoiding for the better part of the afternoon and evening. "Marco I think I'm in love with you."
Marco froze instead of the rest of the world like Jean had initially predicted, his dark eyes wide and going wider. His cheeks began flaming almost instantly, freckles standing out in the most stupidly adorable way, and his pretty mouth opened and closed like a fish in air. Jean of course was caught between mentally kicking his ass for that little Freudian slip, and being enthralled at how amazing Marco looked under the multicolored disco ball and strobe lights that were their main source of light. Marco floundered for a few more moments, still looking utterly shocked but no worse for wear. When he finally managed to find his voice it cracked a bit but he managed to stammer out, "Are you being serious Jean...?"
Jean sighed then, knocking back the rest of his drink and deciding fuck it, cat was out of the bag now, may as well fess up-to himself and Marco alike. "I mean. Yeah man I dunno. I think so? I've been feelin' weird and I just," he awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, pale eyes looking elsewhere. This was a lot more difficult to articulate than it was to turn over and over again and again in the chasm of his psyche. "Look man... Ever since that party where we made out, I just, things haven't felt the same. And I guess I know why, cause I've been the one makin' things awkward for myself. But the point is, I was attracted to you way before then and that just kinda cinched it for me and like I said things've felt weird and well. I think I know what it is now ya know? So... Yeah I mean it." He leveled his gaze at his friend, who was considerably redder now that he'd fully explained himself-not that Jean could talk, with the way his ears and the bridge of his nose were basically on fire. "Marco, I'm in love with you."
The taller man watched quietly, breaths visibly bated, and as Jean came to a finish he took a deep breath and steadied himself noticeably. There was the beginnings of a smile on his lips as he opened his hem to speak, one Jean could only sort of see with their subpar lighting. "Jean, I-"
"What the fuck is up sluts?!" The two nearly got knocked clean off their feet as Eren slammed his arms around their shoulders, clearly not having heard a single part of their serious conversation and completely unaware of what e was interrupting. He was grinning obnoxiously, obviously high and more than a little drunk. "I'm fuckin' sick of bein' miserable so I'm gonna have some fuckin' fun tonight!" he slurred exuberantly at them, arms squeezing the lot of them together in some drunken excuse for affection. Then he turned and slapped a sound, wet kiss to Jean's unsuspecting lips.
The sharp flinch and startled squeak that followed were second only to the absolutely horrified expression Jean wore as his alcohol fogged mind registered what was happening. He none too kindly shoved Eren back with a wordless exclamation, eyes wide as dinner plates and brows so high they may as well have been part of his hairline. Eren stumbled with a hard laugh, nearly keeling over and clinging to Marco's arm when he didn't. It took him a solid shitfaced moment before he seemed to sharply and suddenly realize something was up between his good friends. "Woah hey Jean man what's uh. What the fuck did I just interrupt?" He worked pretty hard at sounding at least mostly sober, bless the poor child.
Marco laid a soothing hand on Jean's shoulder as he carefully hauled Eren against him in a lopsided one-armed hug (god the drunken moron was mostly unsteady dead weight, wasn't that delightful) before he smiled softly at the two-toned blonde. "I was just telling Jean," he said soothingly, though still having to raise his voice over the subwoofers, "that I agree with him and I'd love to go on a date Monday." There was hardly a question in his tone, but the way he grinned a bit and raised his eyebrows had Jean beaming and nodded breathlessly.
Eren rubbernecked between the pair before he whooped loudly, damn near toppling himself once more as he pumped a fist into the air. "It's about damn time!" he cackled, shimmying to the beat over to the cooler that held all the hard liquor under a lock code. After somehow fishing out a bottle of vodka, he poured them all shots (far more deftly than anyone with his level of intoxication had any right to harness), much to everyone's chagrin if they were being honest. "For the happy couple," he toasted with a bright green wink, slamming his shot down with a hard grimace. As the other two followed suit, breathing hard like they were spitting fire, he snickered again and said, "Man all that sexual tension between you two was even gettin' to my depressed single ass."
More people were filing in and it was thankfully much noisier than it had been. While Jean and Marco both blushed and squirmed quite a bit, bashfully edging toward one another and sweetly touching fingertips, Eren was swept off into greeting his guests. How he managed to suddenly sober up so much was just this side of hilarious rather than infuriating.
As a final jibe over the cacophony of music and voices he turned to them with a shit eating grin and a devious glint in his verdant eyes and shouted, "Hey man I'll pay you in drinks, food, and a warm bed if you two gimme a nice show!" Marco ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut with a broken groan of the brunette's name. Jean was content to watch as Armin not so discreetly cuffed the short brunette across the shoulder with an indignant blush for their sakes.