Make It All Better

Jean was getting really sick of this.

It was already in the A.M., that much he knew, and he still had yet to get to sleep. This was ridiculous. It had been like this for the past week, and all he wanted was a good night's sleep at this point.

He rolled over onto his right side for the umpteenth time that night with a slight grumble, facing Marco in the bunk pushed up against his own. He grumbled again, jealous and not worrying about waking him up.

Marco had a weird way of sleeping, on his back, and was a surprisingly heavy sleeper, emphasis on the sleeping part.

Jean rubbed a hand over his eyes and resigned himself to the fact that he was probably going yet another night without sleep, instead choosing to count the freckles on the cheek that was facing him.

So far his left cheek count numbered thirty-nine, and he still hadn't counted them all.

He was quite engrossed in his task, so when Marco suddenly flinched as if he had been struck, bolted upright into a sitting position and let loose with a strangled, rough scream, Jean almost jumped clean out of his bunk.

He did, however, manage to stay airborne for a second, and when he landed back on the bed, Marco's gaze immediately snapped in his direction.

Jean was dumbfounded. Marco was just sitting there, shivering, eyes brimming with tears, gasping for breath.

Jean felt his mouth hanging open, but before he could utter a sound, Marco whispered. "Jean."

It wasn't even a question. It was so soft, Jean was surprised he even heard it.

Then Jean found his tongue. "Christ Marco are you okay?"

The tears had all but disappeared from Marco's eyes, but he was still shivering, and his breath was shaky. "I-I'm alright… I just have night terrors sometimes…"

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Funny thing to call a nightmare."

Marco shook his head. "No, they're different." When Jean made a face, Marco elaborated. "Nightmares don't usually involve…the screaming after you wake up suddenly…thing…I don't know how to explain it really. It's always been like this, ever since I was a kid…Sorry, I must have freaked you out. Everyone's usually asleep when I wake up…"

Jean held up a hand. "Okay, pause all of the explaining stuff for the moment. How many times has this happened while I was dead in my sleep over here?"

Jean really did sleep like the dead. When he could get to sleep anyways.

Marco shrugged. "Uh, I don't know…"

"What you mean is too often." Jean's eyes were downcast, and he averted them even further as he asked. "Do you remember what you dream about?"

Marco looked down at the blankets bunched up in his lap. "Sometimes…"

Jean swallowed. "What do you dream about…?"

Marco's breath hitched, but he still answered. "Sometimes it's my mother…" Tears formed in his eyes again, quicker than before.

Jean didn't need to ask for the details of what the nightmares entailed.

"Sometimes it's me…" Marco's hands gripped the blankets roughly. His voice suddenly dropped to the tiniest whisper, and his voice broke as two tears made little 'plop' noises on the blanket. "And s-sometimes…it's you…"

Jean looked up to find Marco valiantly fighting the tears, but failing.

Before his brain could catch up with his actions, Jean found himself in Marco's bunk with his arms wrapped tightly around the raven, who had his face buried in Jean's neck.

The sandy-blond gently rubbed his back as he held him, and he felt the powerful sobs that Marco was fighting back.

He wished they were anywhere but here. Anywhere but the place where everyone was sleeping, where they had to be quite so as not to wake anyone. He wanted Marco to be able to cry without having to worry about something so stupid yet so crucial.

And Jean felt as if his heart was being ripped out when he felt tear after hot tear run down his neck and soak into the fabric of his nightshirt.

He wanted to scream. He wanted Marco to scream. He wanted Marco to cry without holding back, get as much of it out as he could for the time being.

Having Marco, his own little personal ray of sunshine, hurting so bad in turn hurt Jean.

He felt it acutely, because they all had nightmares… He didn't think his were to the extent of Marco's, but that just made it hurt all the more.

Marco was hurting, and all he could do was hold him. He tightened his already strong grip again, and Marco, quick as lightning, took hold of him as well.

He had stopped rubbing Marco's back, and now he brought one of his hands up to the back of the raven's neck, caressing gently as he placed kiss after kiss to the top of Marco's head.

Marco seemed to still at the touch, and Jean inwardly panicked a little. He had never considered what he felt for Marco to be wrong, but he knew others probably wouldn't see it that way.

Marco pulled away, only far enough away that they were looking at each other, noses almost touching.

It was the saddest expression Jean had ever seen, and he wanted to make it go away.

"Jean…I love you." Marco said it almost as if he were ashamed, two more tears making little tracks over his cheeks, over his freckles.

Jean brought his arms up, one wrapping around Marco's shoulders and the other to the back of his head, pulling him into a new embrace that was impossible to escape from. "Don't ever stop…"

Marco was so far into Jean's arms, the closest part of him that the sandy-blond could kiss was his ear, but he didn't seem to mind, as his arms returned the gesture just as forcefully.

The minutes ticked by, but Jean still refused to release the other boy, although Marco had absolutely no problem with it.

When Jean's arms finally loosened their grip, it still took them awhile to move just far enough apart to see each other.

Jean used the hand on the back of Marco's head to guide his forehead to his lips, placing a gentle, lingering kiss there. He softly whispered, his lips still against Marco's skin. "Sunshine…"

Marco's reply was a breathy whisper. "What?"

Jean finally brought their faces level and stared into Marco's eyes, wiping the last of his tears away and keeping his hands on his cheeks. "You are my sunshine…"

Marco gently placed his hands over Jean's, then he slid them down his arms to his shoulders, and he slowly lowered them back onto his bed, wrapping his arms around Jean once more with Jean's hands still on his face.

Jean leaned in first, gently capturing Marco's lips with his own, and Marco pressed back gently.

They had both long since closed their eyes, and their movements got slower and slower until they just stopped altogether.

They still had their lips pressed against one another when Jean whispered. "I love you."

In response, Marco tightened his grip, and soon after, they were both sound asleep.

Neither cared enough to bother with the blanket, which mirrored how much they cared about what the others would say come morning.

Because from now on, no matter what happened, their partner would make it all better.


FRECKLED CHRIST ANOTHER ONE? I don't know where the fuck I'm pulling this motivation from, I really don't. But this kindasorta has a reason (not really). AND YEAH, I KNOW I WRITE TOO MUCH PLOT-LESS FLUFF. DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK? ...I'm sorry. I just needed some comfort. NUTHIN TO CHEER YOU UP LIKE SOME SAD JEANMARCO, RIGHT? -_- God. I don't even know. You know shit is going down when I describe FEELINGS and not just actions. Oh well. I was reading my Psychology chapter for this week and it was about sleep and shit and I never knew a night terror and nightmare were different and can you guess what I thought of first when you say nightmare yeah. And apparently people who experience night terrors are VERY uncommon, so YAY Marco is the last of humanity to suffer both while awake and asleep :) Now, if you will excuse whatever pointless thing this is, I would be very grateful, and sorry for being such a cunt.

EDIT: Whoever left the review under 'Jordan', know that that is the best review I have ever gotten in just overall awesomeness. I am stuck in between the urge to just sit here dumbfounded or to find you and marry you.

characters © Isayama Hajime

story © MarulxiaSutcliff116