[SnK] JeanMarco; 30 day challenge: coffee shop AU
day 01: coffee shop AU
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin
Pairing: Marco/Jean
Warnings: none
Word Count: 500 approx.
It was dead hour when the storm hit outside their little coffee shop.
Enveloped in the warm, Jean paid it no attention until the bell chimed and a bedraggled looking student entered. The hoodie came down and a droplet ran down familiar freckled cheeks, as he salvaged the contents of his drenched bag. If Jean remembered rightly, then freckles name was Marco.
“Sorry,” Marco said, before ordering. (What he was sorry for Jean had no idea.)
He sat in the corner of the empty shop, drying a notebook on the radiator as he sipped his coffee and the rain continued to beat down outside. Whether it was just because there was nothing else to distract him, Jean couldn’t take his eyes off him, and eventually he went over.
“You need anything else?” he asked.
Marco shook his head and thanked him, returning to his books as Jean was left hovering awkwardly.
For the next five minutes Jean desperately thought of something to say that wouldn’t sound too stupid, but would leave an impression. Five minutes, and Marco started to gather his things once more.
A sigh coming from that pleasantly open face had Jean running to the back. He grabbed his own umbrella, not stopping for his startled manager, and hurried to catch Marco at the door.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Marco asked, caving in under Jean’s insistence and hesitantly taking it.
“Yeah,” Jean said dismissively. (He’d use Eren’s on the way home; the idiot always left his umbrella at work.)
The radiant smile he received in return put a spring in Jean’s step for the rest of the day.
After that, Marco became a regular, although according to an amused Mike his appearances always coincided with Jean’s shift. Usually it was too busy for them to talk properly, but on quiet days Jean found he was getting to know Marco better and better.
Like how they were into the same bands, and writers, and directors. Then there was how Marco came from a large family, that even though he never said it he was under a lot of pressure to do well, and that he was studying at the same university Jean was but in the law department.
(Good money, Jean had remarked half-seriously only to be taken aback as Marco had protested that no, he wanted to uphold justice. Jean would have laughed if Marco hadn’t sounded so endearingly earnest.)
It wasn’t until a few weeks had passed that they bumped into each other outside the shop for the first time. And the first thing that Jean said was, “You want to get coffee?”
After he stopped cringing at himself, Jean realised just how much he was enjoying Marco’s company, even when the coffee wasn't on par. The more Jean looked, and he looked a lot, the more Marco’s freckles appeared as a chocolate dusting of impressionism upon the honest canvas of his face. Jean’s face scrunched as he tried to make sense of that thought, alarming Marco in the process.
“Everything alright?” he asked, his hand brushing against Jean’s in gentle reassurance.
Stunned by the honest affection in that smooth move, Jean felt the temperature of the room soar alarmingly.
“Everything’s great,” he managed to say.
Their fingers laced together. They were still warm from the coffee.
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin
Pairing: Marco/Jean
Warnings: none
Word Count: 500 approx.
It was dead hour when the storm hit outside their little coffee shop.
Enveloped in the warm, Jean paid it no attention until the bell chimed and a bedraggled looking student entered. The hoodie came down and a droplet ran down familiar freckled cheeks, as he salvaged the contents of his drenched bag. If Jean remembered rightly, then freckles name was Marco.
“Sorry,” Marco said, before ordering. (What he was sorry for Jean had no idea.)
He sat in the corner of the empty shop, drying a notebook on the radiator as he sipped his coffee and the rain continued to beat down outside. Whether it was just because there was nothing else to distract him, Jean couldn’t take his eyes off him, and eventually he went over.
“You need anything else?” he asked.
Marco shook his head and thanked him, returning to his books as Jean was left hovering awkwardly.
For the next five minutes Jean desperately thought of something to say that wouldn’t sound too stupid, but would leave an impression. Five minutes, and Marco started to gather his things once more.
A sigh coming from that pleasantly open face had Jean running to the back. He grabbed his own umbrella, not stopping for his startled manager, and hurried to catch Marco at the door.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Marco asked, caving in under Jean’s insistence and hesitantly taking it.
“Yeah,” Jean said dismissively. (He’d use Eren’s on the way home; the idiot always left his umbrella at work.)
The radiant smile he received in return put a spring in Jean’s step for the rest of the day.
After that, Marco became a regular, although according to an amused Mike his appearances always coincided with Jean’s shift. Usually it was too busy for them to talk properly, but on quiet days Jean found he was getting to know Marco better and better.
Like how they were into the same bands, and writers, and directors. Then there was how Marco came from a large family, that even though he never said it he was under a lot of pressure to do well, and that he was studying at the same university Jean was but in the law department.
(Good money, Jean had remarked half-seriously only to be taken aback as Marco had protested that no, he wanted to uphold justice. Jean would have laughed if Marco hadn’t sounded so endearingly earnest.)
It wasn’t until a few weeks had passed that they bumped into each other outside the shop for the first time. And the first thing that Jean said was, “You want to get coffee?”
After he stopped cringing at himself, Jean realised just how much he was enjoying Marco’s company, even when the coffee wasn't on par. The more Jean looked, and he looked a lot, the more Marco’s freckles appeared as a chocolate dusting of impressionism upon the honest canvas of his face. Jean’s face scrunched as he tried to make sense of that thought, alarming Marco in the process.
“Everything alright?” he asked, his hand brushing against Jean’s in gentle reassurance.
Stunned by the honest affection in that smooth move, Jean felt the temperature of the room soar alarmingly.
“Everything’s great,” he managed to say.
Their fingers laced together. They were still warm from the coffee.