He wonders how her healing goes.

He tells himself it's just because she's his squad mate now that it matters so much, that after all the injured and dead the latest expedition brought he's caring more for everyone who managed to remain alive in that disaster of a rescue mission, but words are wind and do very little to conceal the truth even from himself.

Jean holds himself from screaming aloud, but the yelling continues in the prison of his mind – screaming of injustice and just let me see how she's doing, don't you understand she's important! Oh, they hardly understand anything at all, it's a miracle they still have medical staff enough to cater for all of them wounded and broken, and a miracle even worse that he himself is strikingly alive and whole and can't dare to approach her and ask about her recovery.

Few days later they're on their way to the temporary hideout as the situation within the Walls grows considerably tenser with every passing day and there may already be a smart head money established for catching the newly formed Levi's Squad. Mikasa does admirably well and doesn't as much as display any visual signs of having had several ribs broken not a week ago, which does seem strange at first, but the relief Jean feels overwhelms all the other worries. She's gonna be okay, and that's all that matters.

The hideout is located in the foothills far from roads and human habitations, and it takes them several days to get there. At nights they're usually searching for some abandoned hunter's hut to camp in, and it's during arrangements like this when teens of both genders are forced to share the place together that Jean catches glimpses – not that he's a closet pervert or something (he will deny it till the end of his days), just those huts are so small and offer so little privacy… And Mikasa isn't ashamed neither of her (glorious, glorious) body nor of its current condition – so when Jean spots the sheer amount of bruises marking her midsection, his reaction is not the one he'd have previously anticipated from walking into a Mikasa changing clothes.

He feels scared. And hateful – that he despite all his hailed achievements (coming from an expedition alive is one of those) can't as much as protect her who is so strong on the façade yet so frail when you look at her unguarded.

Never had he loathed himself as much as at the sight of those bruises that now haunt him day and night – just as Mikasa's image as a whole has been haunting him for years – but now her pristine white skin he's been kissing to eternity in his fantasies – this dainty skin is marred with signs of his failure, his inability to defend her – and it aggravates Jean more than he thought he could be capable of.

For in his dreams he continues kissing that addictive skin, and since dreams are magical, unlike the reality, there his kisses can actually cure the bruises and chase them away from that sensitive place right under her breasts – he can never imagine her breasts as they're always different in each of his dreams – small and firm and perky, so ready for his mouth – or large soft mounds of perfection and nipples so dark pink, finally free from the confines of her tight bindings, free to fill the entirety of his world and black him out into the oblivion of Mikasa.

In his dreams, Jean can cure her, all of her, and boy does she enjoy his unorthodox methods of healing! But in reality her gaze is cold and slightly annoyed when he's not careful enough to keep his dreamy expression in check with her nearby, and the bruises don't heal easily, and Jean wonders whether the bones have recovered alright, and prays they did, because in the fantasies he holds her so tightly it might break them ribs anew and he starts hating himself for merely daring to imagine such an outcome.

Yet he yearns to hold her more than anything, and those bruises that entered his subconscious as a sign of his defeat – they are now a trigger to something he never puts to words, dreading the wicked way they might sound – he merely allows those evil triggers to carry him away where he touches them, touches her, all of her in his daring exploration, where she smiles watching the bruises go away after his lingering tender kisses, and her eyes smile together with her sensual mouth, and they shine so brightly Jean is nearing the seventh heaven when he sees his desire for her is being mirrored in these two bottomless pools of dark magic that are Mikasa's eyes.

So for once he screams out of joy, not self-deprecation, as he feels her responding to his caresses, pliant and divine as the ethereal being she is, subtle yet so infinitely strong, in both her grip on his shoulders and in the beatific moans she emits as he finally, oh finally, enters her after so many years of yearning and cursing himself.

Jean doesn't realize the moans he assumes belong to her are actually his very own, escalating in the loneliness of the empty room he's escaped to from where everyone else rests, to have them triggers of Mikasa's bruised skin possess his mind and body all over again, disrupting his breathing to sporadic shrieks filled with her name and intensifying the pace of his hand till it hurts oh so marvellously.

ЯR

It's in the mid of the night Mikasa wakes up with a start – like she's been prone to doing for what seems to be her entire life – to check the surroundings and prove it to her own agitated mind she's not being kidnapped or attacked or discovered by titans – when she spots the place next to hers disturbingly empty.

It's been annoying at first to accept one certain Jean Kirschtein in the close proximity to her being but as he himself clumsily explained to her those were just their temporary arrangements so Eren can sleep on the other side to her, let alone he's worrying over the way her healing goes and thus should be vigilant if she turns awkwardly in her sleep or something along those half-nonsensical half-swallowed lines, Mikasa doesn't really pay attention to his exasperated blabbering and just prefers to let him be rather than throw a fit which may as well provoke something in Eren's nature she's not sure they're ready to discover just yet.

And now the Kirschtein blabbermouth with guilty eyes and weird smouldering looks is gone from his acutely close sleeping place next to hers and this just doesn't feel right. Connie and Armin are sentinels on the outside of their hide, and everyone else is sleeping soundly in the room, so Jean's absence strikes more than it really should have. Add to this the strange subdued noises coming from the adjacent room – and a sense of anxiety is enough to have Mikasa alert on her feet and intent of discovering the source of disturbance.

ЯR

She stealthily exits the room to the accompaniment of Sasha's light almost lulling snores and listens to the darkness on the outside. The noises resemble fighting which peaks Mikasa's agitation.

Above all she finally hears Jean's voice – and he's calling out her name, although more muffled and mostly groaned than really called out – yet she still recognizes it anywhere – and this unnerves her, just a tiny little bit, yes, – but scares nonetheless – as how come is Jean supposed to know where she is at the moment.

But when she follows the voice, it dawns upon her he never ever saw the real her in first place. It all becomes ludicrously obvious as she (as in her image alone) has apparently been with him all this time. His voice is ragged as if after an intensive training – she suddenly remembers how it used to exhaust him despite his obvious prowess, and the way he would pant after the cross-country race – why is she even remembering bits like this in the given moment?

Mikasa briefly realizes she should have felt disgust – as what does this freak think he's doing, what reasons has she ever given him to fantasize about her like that? But instead of aversion, Mikasa is surprised to feel regret.

Regret that it's not Eren she catches up in the action.

That it's not Eren imagining her and moaning her name, not Eren who's coming undone so vulnerable and helpless in the tidal waves of desire that overwhelm him.

It's not the desire she instigated within him – and it's damned wishful thinking, as all Eren's desires are about fighting and higher hopes and humanity – the word sounds strangely bitter in Mikasa'a mind, as even when Eren promises her to free the world from titans – he promises it to the humanity he sees reflected in her eyes, but he hardly sees the real her behind what he wants to see, in everyone, not in one particular Mikasa Ackerman – they're all the humanity to Eren, all as one, but never individuals craving for something not as slightly noble as saving the world.

Something like the embrace of strong hands, the steady heartbeat pressed to your own back, the warmth of breath on your neck… These things are too petty to even dare entertain in thoughts when humanity's fate is at stake.

Yet still Mikasa loathes to realize that Eren never succumbs to those small, earthy feelings, given the picture she almost sees at the moment, only one little step towards the door and a simple look inside the room, and she nearly stops herself from entering – what if the vision of Eren being there dissolves?

As it certainly will be gone once she confirms with her own eyes it's just the Jean there. Just insolent, zealous Jean searching for solace from all their pains, searching an asylum from their reality and what if from the real her as well?

Suddenly Mikasa wonders if walking on him in this exposed state is a good idea – they all need their refuge every once in a while, and whereas she exhausts herself in training, the fool engages in other exhausting activities, but why, why is it her, her in his spotlight, and not somebody else?

What has she even done to make him want her like this?

Want is a new word, unwelcome and shunned, yet it strikes Mikasa full-force, and the realization that Jean isn't just being stupid but actually, ardently, for years – wants her… It doesn't feel as repulsive as it must – suddenly – on the contrary, it's boosting her naturally high self-esteem, which has been wavering recently from the lack of Eren's special attention she almost gave up on receiving, ever, but didn't give up on thinking about it.

And instead of righteous rage, Mikasa feels… awkward. Intruding on something she wasn't welcomed to in first place. Or wait – perhaps she was? In a subtle, unsaid way, what if Jean may not actually mind her presence in this? There's way too many questions and too few answers if any at all, but he did moan her name, did he not? What was it, if not all the invitation she needed to just end this mess once and for all, because how else can a proper girl call being some hopeless wanker's target, if not an utter and disastrous mess?

So why does it appear like treading on someone's heart instead of demanding he leaves her alone?

Why on Earth is it so complicated to simply tell him off for doing what he does… Why is she not in any mood to tell him off for… wanting her, right? Or is it she wants to rage at him for the fact he is not Eren? Oh really? So it's only Eren, humanity's only hope, is allowed to want her.

Yet why does she feel so strangely elated by the sounds from that thrice damned room even fully knowing the voice moaning her name does not belong to Eren? Who can explain this?

And so she enters.

ЯR

Jean vaguely feels the presence of another but he's well past point of caring as the precious moments of his selfish afterglow are way too scarce to be distracted by some lone wanderer. As if they'd see something they've never guessed about before. Through the haze of intense feeling slowly but inevitably ebbing away Jean wonders whether it's some of the boys or may be even captain Levi himself has arrived in the night; hopefully he does prefer girls over boys, otherwise the situation might turn dangerous from just being awkward, the very thought of it making Jean shudder from repulsion other than from the lingering thoughts of her skin.

Or maybe it's simply Sasha creeping for her nightly snack, meaning she probably wouldn't mind his actions at all (if she even spots him in first place), as you hardly ever meet a person more difficult to impress than Sasha, especially when on her way to the edible target.

So Jean prefers not to think about that other person at all and wanders off to where he's come from, because it's just too painful to let it go all over again for heaven knows how long it would be till he has time for himself, and for her, their healing sessions– again.

The figure, however enters as if to take a better look of him in his sticky shameful mess, for despite the waning moon, its pale light is enough to make the stains of his essence almost glow in an eerie but still somewhat alluring way, accentuating his disgrace as well as his contented air.

ЯR

Mikasa thinks she's prepared herself for the picture to come – as after all it's nothing even slightly as dangerous as titans having discovered them in the midst of the night – yet it still takes considerable willpower not to shake upon seeing Jean on the floor, leaning to the wall and shaking himself.

She has no idea where to look – his eyes are menacingly glazed and would probably drag her into some whirlpool of unknown she doesn't want to face ever – yet his hands… Oh dear, not his hands, definitely do not look at his hands! Yet what is seen can't be unseen – the both of them know this instantly as Jean watches her watching him, and his ragged breathing is the only sound in the room.

The moment she averts her eyes is all too late, as the dim moonlight does little to hide the scene of crime. Jean awkwardly hurries to stand up and at least have some decency to act frustrated upon being discovered in such a compromising position (when in reality his loins are singing the war cry together with his mind, pumped by her actual and not imaginary presence) – and in the meanwhile, Mikasa is lost.

She must act, somehow, berate him – but his hands… Oh no, his hands there and the rhythm of his loud breathing, and his muttering apologies does everything to make her feel so insanely wanted she's unsure she's capable of hating the fool at the very present moment. He does this because of you, her mind screams, look what you do to him, aren't you enjoying it? And the horror is that she probably does.

ЯR

His legs are quivering and his state deserves all the mockery in the world, yet Jean desperately searches for her gaze – ashamed and caught but not as guilty as he imagined he would have been were it anybody else having entered upon him – he dreads to admit it even to himself, but having her standing right there in front of him, having her nearly checking him out in his inglorious state, their meeting so indecently, wildly inappropriate – it's turning him on anew.

Knowing she sees him despite not looking him in the eyes – sensing that she knows exactly the reasons to his current state, – is enough to drive Jean mad, a sick man standing in front of his miraculous healing, the goddess of wrath herself ready to unleash her anger on the worthless heathen shaking in the mixture of afterglow and fear before her.

But Mikasa simply goes back without saying a word, leaving Jean to his assumptions and soiled clothes.

She's unsure how she should have acted – if acted at all – and this annoys her beyond belief – as she certainly should have at least scolded the impudent wanker for daring use her as a device for his atrocious relief. But she didn't – or couldn't?

And the rest of the night she spends restless, pretending to be soundly asleep when Connie and Armin return to wake up Sasha, as she and Jean are the next sentinels. No one inquires about the absence of Jean in his sleeping place as he himself angrily whispers at them from the adjacent room to hurry up and just wake the happily snoring girl.

Once Jean and the loudly yawning Sasha leave the hideout, Mikasa can finally allow herself to relax but still she can't stop her mind from wandering back to the scene. It's obnoxious and horrible – so why does it have to cast such a lingering effect on her thoughts as well as her body?

She's unpleasantly surprised to find herself aching in an odd way, that habitual ache she got used to feeling with Eren being around in various state of semi-nakedness during their training or healing or both, but this time Eren has nothing to do with it, and the revelation is honestly even more revolting than what Jean has been doing recently – as it's her very own body betraying her at the moment, not some creeper indulging in his queer desires.

The image of those improperly white stains glowing in the moonlight just won't go away, and nor would his moans that seem to have occupied her hearing permanently. Mikasa seethes – but more so at herself than at the source of her frustration, as for the first time in years she simply can't get a hold of herself.

ЯR

The next day Jean is avoiding her to the best of his abilities, which given the constant pull he feels towards Mikasa, is a feat in itself; but by the sunset he approaches her when they're unloading the wagon for another camp, blushing so profusely the setting sun would have been envious, and quietly offers his sincerest apologies, "for yesterday".

This is something Mikasa isn't expecting from him at all, her own mind in state of turmoil the entire day he doesn't as much as cast his usual longing glances her way, and she never even thought the absence of those can unnerve her the way it does! She brushes his apologies in a curt way, "it's nothing", and later regrets it immensely, because how come was that nothing?

Jean is startled by her response no less, and her words keep ringing in his mind for days on. It's nothing, really, is it? So if it's nothing, does it mean she didn't mind him doing what he did? Does it, truly? So what if he's not being discreet again and she walks on him one more time? Or not just one? The very idea drives Jean to a state of such mental fuzziness he almost trips to the great amusement of his comrades.

On the other hand – what if Mikasa called it nothing because to her it really didn't matter? As since when has Jean Kirschtein and his abominable crush ever mattered to her? What if he's just feeding himself off illusions that don't even have a base to them other than his misinterpretation to her words?

What if she's rightfully disgusted with him and doesn't let it show because of her impeccable upbringing?

Jean is in terror, yet the image of her gaze travelling over him isn't going anywhere, and the sheer pain of uncertainty intensifies with every passing day.

Mikasa is unreadable, or so Jean thinks. Yet he craves for the answer.