**Author's Note: Okie dokie this is definitely going to be an adventure for me, mostly because I've never posted the first chapter of a fanfic without having at least five more finished, but I promised I would get this done tonight and god damn it I did it. And by tonight, I meant the span of time I stayed awake at night. It's technically tomorrow morning.

As you may (or hopefully may not) figure out, I haven't done much editing so I'm really sorry for any thing I missed.

Thank you for reading!**

"You know, I don't think she's that strange."

It was the second summer of their training. The heat of the southern districts was brutal, humid and unrelenting, even at night. Fourteen years old, Jean Kirschstein dragged his hands through his sweaty hair and leaned on the railing of the mess hall porch, his heavy uniform sticking to his skin. "You're crazy," he muttered. "She's fucking weird."

Marco shrugged, his eyes following the tiny form in the distance as it made its way around the training grounds. "I think she's got better endurance than any one of us. How long has it been, five hours?"

"Four and a half. What do you mean she's got better endurance than any of us?"

"She's definitely better than you, if that's what you mean," Marco said, and then laughed as his friend's face reddened. "It's true! I don't even think Mikasa could keep up a steady run for four and a half hours. It's got to be some kind of record."

"Have you forgotten she's doing it because she stole a chicken? A live chicken. She was going to cook it."

"She's driven."

Jean scoffed, turning his back to Marco and starting towards the boys' barracks. The sun was beginning to set, and he had learned the hard way that any cadet out past sundown was sure to get Shadis' boot up his ass. "Whatever. You can oggle the sweaty psycho later. Come on."

"You go ahead."

The blonde boy looked over his shoulder to find Marco with one hand on the mess hall door, the other waving him on. "I'm going to ask the cook to see if he has any leftovers that he would let me save for her. I'll catch up."

"Are you kidding?"

Marco smiled, though the tips of his ears were glowing red. "I-I just want to make sure she gets something to eat, since she won't have eaten anything since breakfast or anything."

"Marco!"

"I'll only be a second!"

Before Jean could say another word, the door to the mess hall had slammed shut, the sound echoing all over the grounds in the summer heat. What an idiot, he thought, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stomping off to the barracks. What was so great about that Sasha anyway?

.

Nothing. There's your answer. There is nothing great about her.

"She was so happy!" Marco said, keeping his voice low as he leaned over the edge of his bunk. Jean groaned, pulling his pillow over his head and rolling over. Marco had been a fine bunkmate…until now.

"Can't a guy get some sleep?"

"Ymir and Annie said that I couldn't wait on the porch so I went to the showers 'cause I figured she'd be there," Marco continued, speaking a-mile-a-minute and completely ignoring his friend's protests. "'Cause you know, she'd probably have wanted to shower 'cause she was sweaty and stuff, but then she wasn't there so I walked around for a bit and then I found her by the kitchen, like she was trying to argue with the cook and get him to give her food but he wouldn't, you know? And she just looked so heartbroken! So I called her over and I said "I didn't have all of mine, so I save it for you," all casual and friendly, you know? I didn't want to be creepy. You gotta be cool about that kind of thing. And then she was so happy that she hugged me and said that I was like an angel sent to her by God himself." Marco leaned down above Jean, his hair sticking up all around his face. "I've never had anyone say something so nice to me before!"

"And then she stuffed her face, didn't she?" Jean grumbled, reaching up and swatting at the freckled face. "She's like a cat. She's only ever going to give you attention when you have food."

"That's not true!" Marco hissed indignantly, glaring at him. Jean shhed him as one of the other boys rolled over, the old mattress creaking. Marco blushed, then continued in a whisper, "After I gave her what the food I had, she and I talked for a long time. She told me all about her home town and how proud she was of it. It sounded really cool, Jean! And I told her about Jinae and she was actually interested! It seems like she's never been to a normal town before. I told her that I would take her there next time we get leave and she said that would be really nice so that's like a date, right? It seemed a lot like a date."

"You're way too optimistic. And I bet she talked with her mouth full."

"Maybe a little but when she did her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk and it was really cute so—"

"Christ! I was joking! Does she really?"

"I said maybe a little. But anyway—"

Before he could finish, a pillow flew into the back of Marco's head, nearly knocking him onto the floor.

"Hey!" Jean barked, looking past his flailing friend to see Reiner watching them.

"Do you know what time it is?" The older boy hissed, squinting at them with puffy and tired eyes. "How 'bout I help you out? It's really fucking late."

"S-sorry," Marco whispered before Jean could say anything to make Reiner angrier. "We'll go to sleep now."

"Fuckin' better."

As the sound of Reiner shifting in his bunk slowly faded away, Marco fixed his eyes on Jean, glimmering with childish glee in the darkness. "I think she likes me," he mouthed. "I'm definitely going to talk to her tomorrow."

"Sure," Jean replied, rolling over and trying to get some sleep.

.

Marco had never been the type to assert himself. He never did talk to Sasha the next day, or the one after that.

The rest of the summer passed uneventfully, the blistering July afternoons fading into frigid October nights that left the cadets of the 104th sleeping in their boots just to keep from waking up with blue toes. Their graduation was less than a year away, and all of the boys were beginning to feel too wild for their stables. Worst of all was Reiner.

It was rare that the cadets got days off—titans wouldn't let them rest, and therefore neither would Shadis. According to him, they could sleep when they were dead, and if they wanted that kind of sleep so badly then he would be happy to assign them to guard the supply wagons on the Survey Corps' next mission. No one wanted to test that threat. One morning, however, the ex-commander was waiting for them in the mess hall.

"Sit down, you pathetic exceptions to natural selection!" He barked, his voice rough and grating as ever. Jean nearly tripped into his seat, Marco jumping in behind him. Both of them had their eyes fixed on Shadis, figuring that he had woken up early just to ruin their breakfast with a surprise round of early-morning drills.

Not so! "Today I am going against my better judgment and reluctantly allowing you to have an informal holiday." Suddenly, whispering broke out over all the tables. "Shut your filthy faces!" Shadis shouted. Everyone was immediately silent. He glared over the rows of young soldiers. "You are not to leave the training camp. You are not to bother the cook for food outside of your regular mealtimes. You are not to use the three-dimensional maneuver gear unless it is for legitimate, supervised practice. And you are absolutely not allowed to go into the opposite gender's barracks. The last thing this world needs is to have you filthy dogs accidentally procreating. You are to report for mealtimes and be in your beds at twenty-two hundred hours. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir!"

Without another word, Shadis turned on his heel and stormed through the door, his heavy boots making the whole room shake. There was nothing but silence for several moments after he left.

"Wait, so…"

"Is this a joke?"

"He's really…"

"Holy crap, guys!"

All at once, everyone in the mess hall began to shout, each cadet competing with the noise to excitedly make sure they weren't being duped. Jean felt Marco's hand clamp down on his arm. "Hey," the freckled boy said, his eyes lighting up. "Do you think that maybe Sasha would—"

"Yo!" Reiner roared, slapping Marco on the shoulder before he could finish. "How great is this? We haven't had down-time for months!"

Bertholdt slid into the seat beside Jean, nudging his elbow and leaning in conspiratorially. "You guys should come to the barracks today after dinner. It'll be fun."

"What are you talking about?" Jean demanded, unnerved by the mischievous sparkle in Bertholdt's eyes. He had never seen him even a little excited about anything before, much less looking for "fun".

"What do you mean by fun?" Marco asked, smiling curiously at Reiner. "Like, a game?"

"Yeah. Exactly. We're going to get all the boys together and play a game. Will you come?"

Marco looked down at his plate, trying to find a way to get out of it. "I don't know, I was kind of thinking of—" but before he could say, hanging out with Sasha, Jean slapped his friend on the back of the head and answer for the both of them, "Sure, sounds awesome!" Anything to keep him from whining about potato-girl for another night.

With a smirk, Reiner left, Bertholdt trailing behind him.

.

"I still don't get why you couldn't have let me go off on my own. I know that Connie's going to be here, and that means Sasha's going to be alone. This could be my big chance!'

"Calm down, stud," Jean said, reaching over and messing up Marco's hair as he climbed the steps to the barracks. "You wouldn't leave your buddy alone on a holiday, would you? Besides, you wouldn't be able to find her anyway. Who knows where that girl would go in her free time."

Marco opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again, knowing that Jean was right. It wouldn't be the first time he had gone looking for Sasha and found that not a soul knew where she was.

"She'll be there tomorrow," Jean said, reaching for the door. "And then you two can talk all you want about whatever Reiner has planned."

Before his fingers had even touched the door handle, it swung inwards, and there stood Reiner in the doorway, his cheeks slightly red. "All right!" he laughed, and Jean barely had time to wonder what was happening before Reiner ducked down, hoisting the shorter boy over his shoulder and carrying him into the dorm. "Party time!"

"Hey!" Marco yelped, jogging after them as Jean flailed against Reiner's hold. "Wait for me!"

The big blonde tossed Jean onto one of the empty beds, then sat down on the floor between Bertholdt and one of the others. In fact, Jean noticed as he sat up, all of the boys were gathered between two bunks the middle of the barracks.

"What's going on?" he muttered, watching Bertholdt reach under a bunk and pull out a bundle of old laundry. As he stared, the other boy flipped back the clothing to reveal a shining bottle of amber liquid. He took a swig, then handed it to Reiner, who did the same. Jean's eyes darted to Marco, but his friend was staring at the bottle.

"Cheers," Reiner laughed, pushing it into Jean's chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Jean's hands closed reflexively over the glass, and before he truly knew what he was doing, he felt the unfamiliar gagging sensation of the drink in his throat. He choked, trying to swallow his cough as he shoved it over to Marco.

Looking around the room of boys, Jean soon noticed their flushed cheeks and dumb smiles. Eren and Armin were perched on the bunk above Reiner and Bertholdt, and Thomas, Samuel, Connie and Mylius sat on the floor between the two beds.

"Is this whiskey?" Marco gasped as he gagged on the liquor. "Where'd you get this?" but Reiner said nothing, flashing the two of them a crooked smile before taking the bottle and tossing back another swig. Before long, all of the boys were smashed, bursting into laughter at the simplest comment. Eren was hanging upside-down from the edge of his bed, his hair sticking up all around his head as he giggled hysterically at Bertholdt, who was trying to balance an empty bottle on his head. Had they already finished one? Reiner's supply seemed endless.

"Hey…Hey, Thomas," Armin said, a smile creeping across his pink face. He pointed to his comrade's sideburns. "Why're your pubes growing on your face?"

The boys roared with laughter, slapping Thomas' shoulders as he struggled to think of a comeback. Samuel elbowed him in the side and he nearly fell over. "Hey, Bertholdt, can you see down the girls' shirts from up there?"

The normally shy cadet reached for the bottle and took a long, slow drink. "Absolutely."

There were whistles, cheers. "Hey—hey, hey Eren," Connie started, but he was abruptly cut off by the sound of the barracks' door opening "Shit!" Bertholdt hissed, hastily corking the bottle and throwing it to Reiner. "Hide it!"
All of the boys hurriedly scrambled to their beds, some hiding under the covers, others snatching book's from the pile by Armin's bed as if they were trying to pretend they had been reading.

Jean dove under the bed he had been sitting on, getting a face full of dust as leaving Marco to his own devices. Across the gap between the two bunks, he could see that Reiner had done the same.

The sound of footsteps neared them, and then silence, followed by a noise almost like the intruder was going through someone's pack. Reiner waved to get Jean's attention. "Go see who it is," he mouthed.

"No way!" Jean whispered, shaking his head. "I'm not going to be the one that gets caught!"

"Just fucking do it."

Jean glared at him, but bit his tongue. Reiner was not only bigger and stronger than he was; he was two years older, and that put him squarely at the top of the list of people Jean did not want to get on the bad side of. Reluctantly, he dragged himself to the edge of his bed's shadow and peered out.

"Of course," he muttered to himself as he caught sight of the newcomer. He slid out from under the bunk and stood up, slapping the dust off of his uniform. "Chill out, guys, it's just Franz."

The boy in question jumped at the sound of his name, spinning around to find the rest of his roommates crawling out of their hiding places. "H-hey guys," he said, his eyes darting around and his cheeks red as an apple. "W-what's up?"

"Nothin'," Reiner said with a grin as he held out the bottle. "Want to join us?"

"Uh, you know I'd love to, but…" he trailed off. Smiling, he waved to the rest of them, then turned on his heel and made a beeline for the door.

"Hey Franz," Armin called at his back, catching his arm as he passed and peering up at the taller boy's face. "Why're you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing!"

Armin grinned, turning him around to face the others. "Guys, doesn't it look like he's blushing?"

"I am not!"

Before the other boys could tease him anymore, Franz grabbed something from his bed and made a run for the door. As it slammed behind him, Eren shrugged. "I wonder what that was about."

"Are you serious?" Connie snickered. "He's obviously going to see Hannah."

Someone whistled. The boys all smirked at the knowledge, playfully elbowing each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Jean could see Marco turn bright red. "You don't…you don't really think that would happen, do you? I-I-I mean, they couldn't get away with it!"

"I don't see why not," Reiner said, winking at the freckled cadet. "It's definitely happened before."

The statement hung in the air for a whole minute before any of them got the message. Eren gasped, pushing Connie out of the way so that he could stare directly up at the blonde boy. "Wait!" he nearly shouted. "You mean you've...done it?!"

Reiner grinned. The barracks erupted with questions.

"With who?!"

"Where'd you go?"

"How did you not get caught?"

"What was it like?"

Slowly, Reiner swaggered back to his bunk, sitting down like royalty as he basked in his own glory. Way to let it go to your head, Jean thought to himself, crossing his arms, but standing within earshot nonetheless. The others gathered wide-eyed around Reiner as if he were a storyteller.

"It was pretty awesome," he said casually, feigning indifference as the boys crowded around him. "I'd highly recommend it."

"Don't fuck around, dude!" Connie blurted. "What's it feel like?"

Reiner thought for a moment, although Jean couldn't tell if he was really thinking or if he was just playing the crowd. Reiner sure knew how to deal with people. Jean turned to see Marco standing beside him. His face was still bright red, but he was leaning forward, hanging on every word. "Can you be any more of a virgin?" Jean hissed.

"Shut up!"

"Jeez, man, I can't describe it," Reiner said finally, interrupting them. "It's hotter and wetter than you can ever imagine, but it's also so soft. It's the best, man. It's just the best."

He took the bottle back out from where he'd hid it and passed it to Jean. "I've never come so hard in my life."

"I did not need to hear that," Jean muttered, taking a swig. As the alcohol stung the back of his throat, he smiled. "But I wish I could do that with Mikasa. Can you imagine?"

"Dude, she's like my sister!" Eren shouted, throwing a pillow at him.

"I want to come all over your sister's face."

"Hey!" Armin warned, grabbing Eren's wrist before he could punch Jean and wrestling him back down to the floor.

"You know," Connie said, staring off into space as his already slow mind tried to push through the haze of alcohol. "I wouldn't mind doing that to a girl. Do you think they like licking it off?"

Samuel took the bottle. "I want a blonde-sandwich with Annie on my right and Christa on my left."

Bertholdt blushed slightly, reaching for the whiskey. "I would do Annie."

"You have no taste," Reiner laughed, slapping him on the back of the head. "Christa's he only blonde for me."

Thomas pulled the bottle from Bertholdt's grip and drank. "I want to dress Mina like a princess and fuck her tits." A few of the boys whistled their approval.

"I want to cover my body in chocolate and watch Sasha lick it off."

"Dude, no."

As the conversation went on, Jean watched Marco's face getting redder and redder. Christ, why am I friends with him? I don't think I've ever met a bigger virgin in my life! Taking the bottle, he pushed it towards his friend with a mischievous grin. "What about you, Marco?" he teased.

"N-n-no way!" Marco stammered, clutching the alcohol to his chest as he shook his head. "I can't."

"Oh, come on!" Connie smiled, pushing him playfully. "Who do you like? Is it Mina?"

"What? No! Mina's just a friend!"

"Then who?"

"I don't know if I should say…"

"I know who it is," Jean boasted, taking a step towards the boys. "Marco is in love with—"

"Hey!" Marco yelped, suddenly jumping forward and the bottle above his head. "Who wants to bet that I can't drink this whole thing right now?"

Drunk, the boys immediately forgot the question of Marco's crush and cheered, watching like children as he raised the bottle to his lips. Jean sat down in a huff, annoyed that his friends had let the matter drop so easily. Secretly, he had been hoping that they would all laugh at Marco. After all, this was Sasha they were talking about. Potato girl. Someone had to knock some sense into the boy, and if Jean couldn't…

Half of the remaining liquor was already gone by the time he pulled himself back to reality. The trainees had settled into a steady chant of "Go, go, go!" as Marco's freckled cheeks got closer and closer to purple. It looked like he was about ready to keel over. Had he even had hard alcohol before? Sure, the trainee corps mess hall served watered-down beer with dinner, but Jean would never have thought that he was the type to—

Just then, Marco finished, a sloppy smile plastered across his face. "Done!" he sang proudly, before the bottle slopped from his hand and he fell straight backwards onto Bertholdt's bunk.

The boys roared.

"Oh shit!" Reiner laughed, slapping the freckled boy's face to see if he would respond. "He's completely out!"

Jean was sure that Connie was going to piss himself laughing. "Jesus, is he okay?" Eren asked.

"He'll be fine. Someone go get the kid some water." One of the boys sitting on the edge of the group got up and ran out the door. Reiner sat back, picking the bottle up off the floor and swirling the last few drops around. "'Didn't know he had it in him."

"Neither did I," Jean admitted, pushing himself to his feet. "What are you going to do with the bottles?"

"The question, amigo, is what are you going to do with the bottles?" Before he knew it, Reiner had shoved both empty bottles into Jean's arms, the heavy glass nearly slipping free. "I would say bury them, but it'll be suspicious as balls if someone catches you out there with a shovel, so go toss them over the fence at the edge of camp of that no one inside the training grounds will find them."

"Dude…"

"Marco will be fine," Bertholdt said, trying to give him a reassuring smile despite his slurred words. "He'll have one hell of a headache tomorrow, but he's not gonna die or anything."

"Fine," Jean spat, taking the bottled and stomping out the door. "I didn't really care anyway."

It was well into autumn, and the sun was beginning to set earlier and earlier. Jean stumbled along in the quickly darkening twilight, losing his balance and leaning against the outside wall of his barracks. How drunk am I? It hadn't seemed that bad inside. He pushed himself off the wall and continued unsteadily towards the edge of the training grounds. It was all he could do to keep the bottles in his hands and his feet under him. The thought of getting caught hardly crossed his kind. It was nearly a miracle that he made it all the way there without any of his superiors catching him.

Jean threw the two bottles over the high fence, wincing as he heard them shatter on the other side. He sighed, leaning against the wooden beams. He was tired as hell. As he stood there, his thoughts wandered to Franz. Had he really been going to sleep with Hannah? Jean wondered what that was like.

Being able to drag his hands over a soft body, to feel her hot wetness tight around him, to squeeze the tits he's been stealing glances at for two years now…

I need a girlfriend, he thought to himself. Dammit, why doesn't Mikasa pay attention to me? I'm ten times the man Eren is. I would—

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange noise to his right. Jean jumped, panicking for a moment. Was that an officer? As he looked around, however, he saw no one.

The sound had come from over by the stables, but it was certainly not a horse. Curious, Jean crept towards the building, staying as silent as he could with his hazy mind making his feet drag. Whoever had caused it must be around the corner.

Well, there was certainly someone there.

"Damn it, not you," he blurted in surprise.

Sasha was staring intently at the stables' door with an apple in her hand.

"Sasha?" Jean demanded. She barely glanced at him, as if she had known he was coming. Taking a bite of her apple, she raised one finger to her lips.

Of all the idiots to run into, it had to be Sasha.

"What are you doing?" Jean hissed, ignoring her sign and stomping loudly towards her.

She didn't answer. Something about the sight of the girl made him inexplicably angry, and with the alcohol fogging his mind, there wasn't a rational thought to stop him as he stumbled towards her and grabbed the apple right out of her hand.

"Hey!" she whispered, trying to grab it back. Jean jumped held it up above her, just tall enough to keep it out of her reach. "Give it back to me!"

"Not until you tell me why you're acting so weird! And what was that sound I heard before!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Liar! I heard you, potato girl! It sounded like…like…"

And then suddenly, he heard it again, A low, quiet moan.

It was coming from inside the stables.

"Like that," Jean finished dumbly.

While he was distracted, she jumped up and snatched the apple right out of his hand.

"Sasha!"

But then he heard it again, and again. The sound was gaining speed. By the time his brain finally put the pieces together, Sasha was already walking away. "Wait!" he said suddenly, feeling himself blush. He ran after her. "Is that…Franz?"

"The noise you heard was Hannah, actually. Franz is usually very quiet."

"Excuse me?"

She turned the corner around another building, a supply shack. It blocked the sun, and its shadow was dark as night. He could hardly see her in front of him. "I said that you heard Hannah, because she's the one who—"

"That's not what I meant!" Jean snapped, running ahead of her and grabbing her arm. "I meant, how do you know whether Franz is usually quiet, you little creep?"

Sasha raised the apple to her lips and slowly took a bite. "I'm in the stables a lot, and they always seem to go to the stables."

"What?"

"I like the horses, okay? They remind me of home." She finished the apple and threw the core behind her, jerking her arm free and walking around him. "I can't help it if they always end up there."

"You don't have to listen!"

"I can't help it with them! You heard Hannah from halfway across camp!"

"It's still weird!" Jean said, following after her. "But actually, I guess it's alright," he continued with a smile, a cruel feeling rising up in him. "It's not like anyone would ever do that with you, anyway."

Sasha froze, looking straight at him over her shoulder with eyes like daggers. She seemed to have a vicious comeback poised on her lips, but then the look faded, and Sasha looked down at her hands with glistening eyes. "I guess you're right," she sighed, turning and walking away.

"Hey!" Jean shouted. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He had only meant to…What the fuck was I trying to accomplish, anyway? Fuck! He chased after her.

"I'm sorry!" he said, doing his best to keep up as she did her best to lose him, leading him in circles around the same cabin and then running off back in the same direction they'd come from. "I didn't mean it!"

"Piss off, you skinny city rat," Sasha spat, picking up at rock and throwing it at his shoulder. Shit, the girl could throw. "I don't need your bullshit tonight."

"Dammit, Sasha!" Before she could get away, Jean grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her into the wall of the nearest building. "I'm sorry, okay? I said I was sorry. I meant it. That was mean. I shouldn't have said it. Someone will definitely want to take you to the stables."

She glared at him. Jean was sure she was about to bite him or something, but then the suddenly chuckled. "You smell like my grandfather's liquor cabinet. You're completely smashed, aren't you?" Sasha guessed, even managing a smile. "It's fine. Just make sure you never say anything like that to me again or I'll bite a testicle off."

Jesus Christ.

As Jean was struggling to find something to say, Sasha gently pried his hands off of her and slipped around him, heading towards the girls' barracks. She was nearly out of earshot when she stopped, looking back at him over her shoulder. "You know, It might seem like a weird thing to say…" she started.

"What?"

She shook her head. "No. Never mind. It's stupid."

"What?"

"I said never mind!"

"Come on, Sasha. You can't just do that."

She turned again and fixed her gaze on him. He'd never noticed it before, but Sasha's droopy eyes reminded him a lot of his mother's. "I mean, it's going to sound awful to say it…it's just…I just think they seem so stupid."

Surprised, Jean nearly tripped over his own boots. "Stupid? Franz and Hannah?"

"Well, they're both perfectly fine people by themselves, I just can't understand why you would set yourself up to get hurt like they have. It seems so pointless."

Jean said nothing, for a long while. Her sudden somberness seemed to clear his head a little. "Is it bad that I think that?" she asked, noticing his silence.

He shook his head, "I just never would have expected you to say something so cold, Sasha."

She huffed. They were near the girl's barracks, and the lantern light from the porch caught her hair and turned it a strange orange. "I think everyone thinks I'm stupid on account of that dumb potato thing," she sighed. "I'm just as good as the rest of you, you know? My life doesn't revolve around food."

"That's not what I meant," Jean said hurriedly, holding up his hands. "I meant…well, I've never really known many women, but it always seemed to me like normal girls really wanted…I don't know…" he could feel a blush creeping into his cheeks, and turned away. "Someone to love them," he muttered.

"Most girls are like that," Sasha said with a shrug. "I was just thinking that those two should have found a better time and place." She made her way to the barracks, climbing the stairs to the door.

"Well what about you?" Jean blurted.

"Huh?" She turned back.

He looked away. "Are you one of those girls that want to be loved?"

For a moment, she was quiet, and then Sasha suddenly threw her head back and laughed. "I'd much rather prefer to eat my feelings," she said, smiling as she opened the barracks' door and stepped inside. "I can always get more if the titans eat that."

The door banged shut, the sound echoing through Jean's foggy mind.

Maybe Marco wasn't as crazy as he'd thought.

**Author's Note: As always thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and please don't forget to favorite and leave a review!

If you like my work you should check out Die Flugel von Sasha (which I'm super proud of) and the other two (which i'm moderarely proud of)

Also if you caught the beer thing, I'm almost 99.999% certain that the 104th trainee squad were given beer during meals because a) there was that one scene were Jean slaps Marco's head and he gets it all over his face and what did you think that was, chocolate milk? and b) because, assuming the setting falls anywhere between literally the dawn of time and the nineteenth century, putting alcohol in things was one of the only ways to make sure that you wouldn't get waterbourne diseases from what you were drinking. I learned that from my father and now I'm passing that knowledge on to you. The more you know!

I don't know why i'm sharing that with you. It's three a.m.

Also, once again, shout out to Fairest Lady Lisa who still needs to finish Levi's Meat because I am thirsty as balls over here you can't just say that you're going to write a lemon and then leave it unfinished! are you Lucifer?!**