Work Text:
It all starts as a prank.
Summer has taken the barracks by storm this year. It’s hotter and wetter than it’s ever been, and the grounds have been subject to heavenly downpours and thunder for the better part of a week. The place is in constant need of repairs and training is muddy, dangerous work. The most they can do before bed is stand in the downpour and hope it washes off some of the dirt and blood.
Today is a blessing in comparison. Skies are blue, the wind is blowing and the mud is starting to dry. And it means laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.
Eren finds himself, as per usual, on barracks cleaning by himself while the other boys fix things around the grounds. He’s the only boy that ever gets stuck on cleaning this often and he can only blame it on the fact that none of the other boys were ever taught the domestics by their mothers. The bedsheets were stripped, washed and dried this morning and so as his final task, Eren finds himself sorting out the bedding. Neat, tucked corners and fluffed pillows, military precise but so welcoming looking that he just wants to fall right into them and sleep.
He’s lifting his first mattress, Jean’s bed nearest the door, when he finds his first magazine.
He holds the mattress above his head with one arm and picks the magazine up with the other. There’s about six total, but the one Eren finds himself holding is brand new. Oriental Sleaze, with detailed illustrations of nude, skinny asian beauties with jet black hair smiling demurely. He scowls down at the magazine in his hand. No doubt a result of Jean’s recent obsession with Mikasa. He’s half contemplating throwing it in the mud until a thought occurs: is Jean the only one who keeps his magazines here? Pressed against the metal slats of the bunk base? Connie is a likely target, so Eren replaces the magazine and drops the mattress back down. He crosses the room to Connie’s bunk, lifts the mattress, and watches as illustrations of large breasted women fall through the slats and onto the recently cleaned floor. He snorts and releases the mattress. What about an unlikely target?
He does the same to Armin’s bunk and can only bark out his laughter when he finds a demure stash of bodice rippers laid out flat, one next to the other, almost in a display.
He couldn’t. But it would be so funny. He can’t. But he should.
Eren returns to Jean’s bunk, replaces his mattress cover, his sheets and his pillows, tucks the corners and fluffs them to perfection, and then lays out the hidden magazines in a perfect little stack at the foot of the bed. Then he moves onto the next, and the next, and the next, all with little stacks of magazines laid out like presents for when the boys get back from dinner.
He makes his way to Marco’s bunk last, heaving the mattress up with a smirk, half believing that Marco is too pure to possibly have anything raunchy, but hopeful to find something to take the piss out of him with.
He stops with the mattress above his head and stares.
There’s just one. It’s old, possibly fifteen or twenty years old, and well loved. Clean though, just worn at the edges like it’s been thumbed and flicked through thousands of times. Men at Work it reads, and Eren breathes out slowly. The cover is a drawing of two half dressed men kissing passionately, their hands tucked into each other's back pockets. The artist paid careful attention to the size of their pectorals, the width of their shoulders, the stretch of their work pants around their asses and the strain of their erections against their zippers.
‘I shouldn’t be seeing this.’ he thinks, and a rock forms in the pit of his gut. This is information he can’t ever unlearn about Marco. Sensitive, personal fucking information. Stuff that could get him in a lot of trouble not only with the other boys, but with the higher ups. The days where sexual activity between men were considered a fantastic way of forming strong war bonds are long gone. Ever since the erection of the church of the walls, such things have been considered deviancy, and every day more of the politics of the Walls creep into the military. This could get him sent back to the crop fields or even worse; the church.
There has to be a better place to hide this. Some sort of loose panel in the floors below his bed.
There isn’t, but after Eren’s done yanking at the floor with his bare hands, there’s a floorboard just loose enough to pry up without coming out of place. The subfloor below the barracks is predictably filthy, so Eren spends a little bit of time sweeping out the worst of the dust and creating a perfect shelf out of the timber to store Marco’s magazine. He blocks off the rest of the gaps with random bullshit he finds in the barracks cupboard, hoping to block off any easy access a mouse might have so it doesn’t chew through the old paper. The floorboard slides back into place after he’s done, inconspicuous.
He continues with his prank after that, too far in to give up now. Marco’s bed remains as it is, though, neatly made with nary a magazine in sight. When Eren’s finished he stands by the doorway and grins. Everything is as clean as could be. Even the magazines look neat where they are.
Time for dinner, then.
*
Eren has to tuck his face into his collar to stop himself from grinning like a lunatic the whole way back to the barracks. All of the boys left at the same time tonight, racing to finish their meals so they can sleep in clean beds, and Armin is chattering beside him about the repairs currently being made to the roof of the main schoolhouse. Thirty more steps until they’re inside. Twenty five. Twenty. Ten. Five- they’re on the porch now, Reiner is leading the pack and swinging open the insect screen and then the door and every one of the boys spill into the barracks.
Conversation tapers off slowly as they look around. Jean’s bed is right by the door, the most visible, and everyone can see his Oriental Sleaze. And Reiner’s Big Chicks for Big Dicks. And Armin’s Chained by the Ice Queen.
Eren looks out of the corner of his eye and finds Marco staring blankly at the foot of his bunk, blinking like he expects his magazine to materialise any second, but the sheets stay unoccupied.
“Jaeger!” Jean screams and it explodes from there. Eren laughs breathlessly the whole time everyone goes between yelling at him and trying to get a peek of everyone else’s dirty secrets. Connie’s snatched one of Armin’s bodice rippers and is attempting to perform a live reading while performing spin dodges to avoid Armin’s flailing hands.
“How come Marco doesn’t have a mag on his bed?” Jean complains, throwing his mattress back down with a whump, concealing the dirty mags once more. “What, you throw Armin to the wolves but protect Marco? You’re a fucking snake, Jeager.”
Eren makes eye contact with Marco then, his big brown eyes holding something like fear, and he says, “Marco didn’t have any. Guess he’s not a pervert like the rest of you.”
*
Lights out was an hour ago, but Eren’s been staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He can see Marco still standing outside wrapped in a blanket and staring at the stars. He throws the cover off, shoves his bare feet into his boots and slips out of the front door and onto the porch without waking the others.
“It’s late.” Eren says softly, settling next to Marco and resting his elbows on the bannister. Marco stands tall next to him, the stars reflecting in his doe-like brown eyes, before he turns his head and smiles blankly at him. Tension keeps his shoulders straight.
“I’ll be in soon.” He says, a clear dismissal, but Eren ignores it.
“I put it underneath the floorboards.” Eren tells him, and Marco’s chest stills. “It should be safe there. Keeping it under the mattress was risky, anyone could’ve found it.”
“Why-” Marco’s voice cracks so he clears his throat. “Why didn’t you…”
“I’m sorry.” Eren says softly, looking down at his own hands. He picks at his cuticles. “I didn’t mean to find out, I wasn’t looking for it or anything. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”
Marco purses his lips and smiles, his eyes shiny and wet. “It would have gotten a big laugh.”
“Fuck the laugh.” He bites. “Nobody should be laughing.”
Marco reaches out wordlessly like he’s going to hug him and then hesitates, drawing back his hand. Eren steps in anyway, wraps his arms around Marco’s middle and gives him a hard squeeze. Marco returns it tenderly, a little rub between Eren’s shoulder blades. “Thank you.” He whispers.
“‘Course.” Eren says, a little muffled against Marco’s chest. “I’ve got you.”
They pull apart after a moment and return to standing side by side. “Wanna’ talk about it?” He asks, and Marco’s eyebrows raise.
“In what way?”
“I dunno’.” Eren shrugs, thumbing his nose. “Any way. You haven’t really talked to anyone about it before, right?”
“No, I- Just you.” He says softly.
“Any boyfriends?” Eren asks quietly, and Marco laughs.
“No. The whole thing is just- in theory, I guess. Less in practise.”
“So you’ve never kissed a boy?” Eren asks, chin in hand, and Marco clenches his fingers in his jacket.
“No.” He says. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
“Once.” He states and Marco looks at him bug-eyed.
“What, when? Did Mikasa kill her?”
Eren laughs softly and looks out onto the dark, muddy training grounds. “It was Mina, actually. She told me she liked me and she kissed me.”
“On the lips?”
Eren nods.
“What happened after?” Marco leans forward. “I never even heard about it.”
“I turned her down and kept quiet about it.” He shrugs. “It’s awkward sometimes, but less so lately.”
“Why’d you turn her down?”
Eren shrugs again. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t interested.”
The two of them fall silent until Eren breaks it. “It was good though.” He says and Marco turns his head to look at him again. “Not the kiss, but just… being kissed. It’s nice.”
“I probably won’t ever find out.” Marco sighs and shudders out a self deprecating laugh. “Not many opportunities.”
“You could kiss me.” Eren says, and Marco stills like a prey animal.
His chest rises and he turns his head forward to only look at Eren out of the corner of his eye, like he’s something to be afraid of, something hunting. He laughs. “Funny.”
“No it’s not.” Eren furrows his brow. “I’m saying you can kiss me.”
He can feel Marco really looking at him, then. Really looking. His eyes dart all around his face before dropping to the low neck of his shirt, untied and loose. He swallows heavily and makes eye contact again. “That’s very kind, but I don’t want pity.”
“No, you’re not getting it.” He’s frustrated now, it’s coming through in his voice. “I told you I like being kissed. You haven’t done it before. So kiss me.”
“But you’re not-” Marco starts and Eren interrupts him.
“I don’t care about that, I don’t get why everyone thinks in such-” His face scrunches. “Strict terms. A kiss is a kiss, it feels good.” On a softer note, he adds with a little embarrassed crinkle of his nose, “And I think you’ll be good at it.”
“Eren…”
“Come here.” He commands, and so Marco does.
He’s uncertain, so unsure of himself, he turns to face Eren but can’t quite think of where to put his hand. He settles on his shoulder, his palm warm through Eren’s thin sleep shirt, and steps close enough to make their boots knock. Eren looks up at him through his eyelashes, a little floored by the extra inches on Marco’s height this close up, and chooses to loop his arms around Marco’s middle to hold him close, warm underneath the blanket. Eren tips his head back in invitation, feels the shaky breath across his lips before he closes his eyes and feels Marco’s mouth against his. It’s warm and soft, chapped and dry. Marco’s nose softly knocks against his but he stays stock still, just feeling the skin of Eren’s lips against his for one, long moment. The hand on his shoulder creeps upwards to rest on the back of Eren’s neck instead, one curled finger tucked up under the knob of his nape.
He pulls away just a little, enough to see each other without getting crosseyed, and blinks owlishly at Eren. Eren smiles back. “Again?” He asks politely, and Marco breathes out a “Yeah.” before meeting Eren’s mouth in the middle. It’s much of the same, still and warm all the way from his lips to his toes. When Marco tries to pull back, Eren takes his jaw in his hands and pulls him right back into the kiss. This time he tilts his head and lets their lips slot together like machinery, parts made to fit. He feels Marco exhale against his face and his hands drop to Eren’s lower back, his palm like a brand to his skin, and pull him in even closer. Moving his mouth, kissing Marco’s plush bottom lip and flicking out his tongue a little, makes Marco forget himself for a moment. Eren makes a muffled sound when Marco’s hands fall to cup his ass. Marco freezes and rips himself away, suddenly conscious of his hands. He starts to apologise, his mouth starts to make all the right shapes, but Eren drags him back down with a ‘shut up’ and they’re kissing again, Marco’s blanket slipping off his shoulders and pooling at their feet.
“We have a couple hours before dawn.” Eren informs Marco helpfully, who blinks and examines the horizon.
“Yeah.” He says, like a horse being led by the reins, trusting of the hand that guides them but unsteadied by alien terrain.
“So… we can make out in the equipment shed for a bit.”
“Eren!” He hisses, then quietens. “What if-” Marco’s voice wobbles. His flush goes all the way down his neck. “What if Shadis sees that we’re not in bed? Or someone else?”
“Shadis won’t see. He hits the bottle harder than the Garrison after training. If the others notice, we can tell them we were training outside of the grounds.”
“What if they come looking?”
“Marco.” Eren presses a thumb to his bottom lip and watches as Marco’s fingers cross in an effort to look at it. “Do you think that if they wake up in the middle of the night and notice bunks are empty, they’ll go, ‘I bet Eren and Marco left to go dry hump in the equipment shed’?”
“Dry hump?” Marco asks with barely any voice left, and Eren smiles with pink cheeks, a little embarrassed by his own audacity.
“If you want.”
“Oh my god.” Marco says, and before Eren knows it, he’s taken by the hand and dragged off in the direction of the equipment shed. Score.