"Hey baby, you're home early." Jean called, popping his head out from the living room, glancing into the entryway where Marco was taking his shoes off. The one in question grinned, standing up and closing the distance between them for a kiss.

"Class got out early." He offered, setting his laptop case down against the wall.

"How was work?" Jean wondered, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. Marco chuckled, kissing his nose.

"Felt pretty long, but Levi stopped by to say hi. He's been doing really well in that new office job. I think he misses everyone, though." He admitted, smile fond. "But I don't want to talk about work, or school. How's the little monster?" He asked, looking both ways for signs of life.

Jean rolled his eyes, pointing towards the bathroom.

"Finally taking a bath, after he wrestled me for five minutes trying to get out of it." He grumbled, glaring at the bathroom door.

Marco chuckled, offering him a kiss for his troubles.

"Have you already washed him, or?" He trailed. Jean shook his head quickly, stepping back.

"I am not fucking with that mohawk. I'm pretty sure I got a splinter last time I tried to wash the gel out." He complained, backing into the kitchen. "I'll make dinner. Good luck." He called, disappearing around the corner.

Marco sighed, stripping down to his undershirt as he neared the bathroom. He stared at the door for a long time, taking a deep breath before turning the knob.

What he found inside, to be described in one word, was hell.

All of the bath toys that he carefully tucked into a bin at the end of each bath were strewn about without any sort of rhyme or reason. Most of the towels had been tugged from their racks, and were piled up randomly across the floor. And then the water. Oh the water. Marco grimaced at the thought of how much water damage their bathroom was likely to endure in the years to come. Another deep breath.

"Stefan." He called, eyes on the tub as he stepped into the bathroom fully, his socks already soaked before he'd even managed to take four steps. Sacrifices must be made.

The boy in question popped his head out of the water, suds dripping down his temples, though his immaculately crafted Mohawk was still almost perfectly in place, only the very tips bending with water-weight. Marco grimaced.

"Papà!" Stefan cried, making to clamber out of the tub, likely to give his father a hug, but Marco halted him in his tracks, carefully placing him back in the water.

"Ah-ah, not until you are clean and dry." He scolded, earning a pout that was cuter than it ought to have been. He reached for the shampoo, bracing himself before tackling the gelled hair. "How about no mohawk tomorrow?" He suggested gently, earning a scowl from his son. He scoffed. "Oh, come on! You can look like papà tomorrow!" This earned him a very familiar roll of the eyes.

"Papà's a loser." The younger mumbled. Marco let out an indignant squeak.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" He demanded, eyes narrow. Stefan looked like he regretted saying anything, but it was too late.

"Daddy says so." He professed quietly. Marco huffed, scrubbing the hair harder as he turned his head to shout over his shoulder.

"I'M A LOSER NOW, HUH?" He yelled, hearing a clatter from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps.

"You little snitch!" Jean cried as he slid into the doorway. "What did I tell you?!"

Stefan looked very much like a small animal facing down utter demise. Two utter demises.

"S-Snitches get stitches?" He murmured.

Marco turned on the other man, hands soapy and brow quirked.

"You told him what?" He hissed lowly. Now Jean looked just about as afraid for his life as Stefan.

"U-Um, nothing! I don't know where he heard that. Or that you're a loser. You're totally not, babe. You're totally rad and stuff. Um, I need to get back to dinner. The, uh, water. It's burning." He blurted, scrambling back to the kitchen.

Marco made another noise of distress before returning to the boy's hair, finally managing to get it looking like normal hair again. Stefan stayed quiet for most of it, not speaking again till Marco was dumping cups of water over his head.

"Papà?" He said quietly, eyes closed so no shampoo would get in, but voice sincere.

"Yes?"

"I don't actually think you're a loser. Promise."

Marco's face hurt from how big he smiled, hefting the boy out of the water and settling him down on the bathmat before bending down to drain the water out of the tub.

"Thank you, Stefan. But I'll never be as cool as you." He swore, finding the driest towel left in the room, grimacing when it was still a bit damp. He draped it over his son's shoulders, scrubbing his hair a few times to get most of the moisture out, followed by a full-body rubdown.

"Alright, go get your jammies on, then we'll have dinner." He delegated, waiting till the little one had raced off to do as told, the promise of food all that was needed to get him moving, even if he was buck naked. Once he was alone in the room, he began cleaning up, putting away the toys and hanging the towels back up after sopping up the mess on the floor.

He joined Jean in the kitchen with a sigh, sneaking up on him and wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, resting his chin against his shoulder.

"You really shouldn't be making our son into a gangster." He reprimanded, stealing a macaroni shell from the pot. Jean glanced over his shoulder with disapproval.

"And you really shouldn't be stealing burning hot macaroni from the pot, but we both know that isn't going to stop happening any time soon." He shot back. Marco laughed, licking the cheese off of his fingers.

"You know how much I love your mac and cheese." He offered, kissing Jean's cheek.

"I know it's great, but wait like, five more minutes. It's almost done." The shorter tutted, batting Marco's hand away with a wooden spoon, pointing him towards the stairs. "Go make sure he remembered to put his dolls away. Armin came over today, and they got them all out. I told him to put them up, but you know how much he listens to me." He muttered, and Marco laughed, planting one more kiss to his cheek before climbing the stairs.

"Stefan!" He called, hearing a noise from the boy's room. Upon entering, he sighed. Jean had been right; There were dolls everywhere. "I'm pretty sure daddy told you to clean these up." He pointed out, nodding down to one black haired doll in particular. His son groaned, pushing his arm through the last hole of his shirt.

"But-" He tried, but Marco cut him off in a flash.

"Nope, come on. I'll help you, but they need to be put away before dinner. All of your cars too."

With no shortage of grumbling, they got them all put away, the last two Ken dolls going on top, where they always did. The two had been affectionately named Jean and Marco, though the resemblance was all but non-existent. They were Stefan's favorites though, so neither man had the heart to complain.

"Daddy said Uncle Armin came over to play with you." Marco said conversationally. Stefan lit up like a box of fireworks, fidgeting with excitement.

"Yup! He looked so pretty today, Papà!" He exclaimed, wringing his fingers together. Marco smiled, nodding.

"Armin always does." He agreed, scooting the box of dolls under the bed and holding his hand out. Stefan took it, following his father out towards the stairs. "You should have seen him at prom. He stole the show." He recalled, smiling.

"Do you think I could have a pretty dress like Uncle Armin? I want to be beautiful too." He whispered, looking up with hope in his eyes. Marco quirked a brow.

He'd been raised in an age where boys played with Tonka trucks and wore jeans every day. Anything else was seriously frowned upon. He never imagined that, someday, he'd be buying his own son Barbies and dresses. That sort of thing had always been unheard of, until just recently. Even still, most people would call him a terrible parent. But he couldn't say he really minded. He'd never seen a happier kid in his life, and that meant he was probably doing something right.

"Well, you're already beautiful, but I don't see why not." He replied, smiling. Stefan beamed. "What do you think, Jean?" He asked as they entered the dining room. Jean paused, looking their way.

"About what?" He asked, getting back to work on setting all the dishes down. Marco chuckled fondly.

"Stefan wants to get a dress, like Armin's." Was the reply. Jean paused again, then he shrugged, grinning.

"Sounds like a good plan to me. Do you want one just like Armin's? All pink and frilly?"

Stefan seemed to consider it a moment, lips pursed. They watched him race off to the living room, sparing each other an amused glance before he was racing back in with a dvd case in hand.

"I want a dress like Lilo!" He announced, shoving the dvd into Marco's hands before climbing into his chair. Jean walked over, watching as Marco flipped the case over a few times in his hand before setting it on the counter.

"Alright, we'll see what we can do, little monster." The taller promised, sitting down as well. Jean followed suit, helping Stefan make his plate before starting on his own. Everyone got to work eating, chitchatting through the meal.

Afterwards came a movie of Stefan's choosing while they munched on some cookies Marco brought home from the café. The movie of the night was the Iron giant, and both Jean and Marco felt a little silly when they were blubbering at the end, especially since Stefan didn't even bat a lash.

After that, it was time to get the little terror ready for bed, Jean loading his Monsters Inc. toothbrush with toothpaste while Marco got his bed ready, turning on the nightlight. He was shortly joined by the other two, and he grinned as he helped the smallest into bed, sitting on the edge. Jean sat at the foot, leaning back against the wall.

"What's it going to be tonight?" Jean asked, leaning down to the crate of books on the floor. After some debate, Stefan decided on Harry the Dirty Dog. It was a quick read, and then they were tucking him in and giving him bedtime kisses. Just as they were slipping out of the door, his voice rose up from the bed.

"I want the new Spiderman action figure too." He added, throwing both men for a loop for several seconds before they recovered enough to share a laugh.

"We'll see, you little terror. Go to sleep." Jean commanded in his best dad-voice.

"Night daddy. Night papà." Stefan called, settling into the sheets. They watched for a moment, to make sure he wouldn't try to sneak back out of bed, then they headed towards the bathroom, Jean turning the water on while Marco stripped down. He followed suit, slipping in after Marco and settling between his legs.

"I definitely needed Wednesday bath night." Marco admitted, adjusting his position so that he could better relax into the water. Jean waited for him to get comfortable before doing so himself, reclining back against the other man's chest.

"Stressed?" He guessed. Marco shrugged, wrapping his arms around the other's shoulders.

"I guess you could say that. Ever since Hanji gave me the café, I feel like I'm losing my mind. I never realized how much they put into it! Keeping all the books and making sure everyone's doing their job… I had no idea!" He admitted. Jean glanced back over his shoulder, craning for a quick kiss.

"Do you not want it anymore?" He asked carefully. Marco frowned, shaking his head.

"I love it, Jean. It's just going to take me a while to get used to running it and going to school. And besides, I'm almost done with my Master's, and then it won't be an issue. I'm just a little tired." He admitted, wriggling his toes, giggling when Jean laid his feet over them, wiggling his toes as well.

"Well, I have some news that might help." Jean offered. Marco waited to hear it. "Remember that promotion I asked for?"

Marco felt elation rise up in his chest.

"Oh my god, you got it?" He cried excitedly. Jean scoffed.

"No. I got fired." He deadpanned. And his voice sounded so miffed, so sincere, that Marco actually believed it and was about to go into comforting mode, until he heard a small snicker.

"Jean Kirstein, don't you scare me like that!" He hissed, swatting Jean's shoulder. It made a wet slapping sound that made them both wince, going silent and listening to make sure they hadn't woken Stefan. Then Jean chuckled.

"Lighten up, sweetheart. I got it." He amended, legs sloshing as he shuffled a little. Marco sighed dramatically, waiting while Jean settled in again before hugging him tightly to his chest.

"Congratulations, you major asshole." He grumbled. Jean barked out a laugh, wiggling till he could kiss at Marco's cheek.

"Thanks babe."

They were quiet for a while, just sitting peacefully before Jean made a noise.

"Oh, don't forget, Stefan's mom scheduled a visitation this weekend. We've gotta go meet her at Chipotle on Saturday.

Marco's throat made a whining noise he had literally no control over.

"I completely forgot! God, I'll have to ask Bertl to look after the café for me." He announced. A beat of silence, then he scoffed. "Stefan hates Chipotle."

Jean laughed as well.

"More than gender expectations." He agreed.

They both snickered, splashing around as they got to work on actually bathing, slipping out and snuggling in a towel for a while before shuffling to their bedroom, peeking in to check on Stefan. He looked perfectly like their child, to the point it was sort of hard to tell he was adopted. That probably wouldn't show until he was older anyway. But honestly, the only thing that gave him away were the blue eyes. The few freckles he'd developed from playing outside stood out in the nightlight's glow, his pale brown hair a mess already against the pillow.

They thought themselves rather lucky to have been fortunate enough to adopt such a perfect creature.

"Look at that little monster." Jean cooed, earning a quiet laugh from the other man. "Probably dreaming up ways to make his mohawk stay up even after you wash him."

Marco groaned, shoving Jean back into the hallway and towards the correct door.

"How about you bathe him tomorrow. It was your idea to let him have a Mohawk." He suggested, already dreading the thought.

"Only if you cook dinner." Jean fired back, quirking a brow because he knew he'd won.

"Sure. It'll be the fanciest thing we've had in ages. Pizza Rolls and Velveeta." Marco decided. Jean made a face as he closed the door behind them, following Marco to the bed after depositing their towels in the hamper.

"Look, I know you're technically still a college kid, but not even you have any business eating like that." He complained. Marco giggled, tugging Jean onto the mattress by his arm.

"I like Pizza Rolls." He argued, pouting to the best of his ability.

"Not happening." Jean replied firmly, shaking his head. "Now stop fighting a losing battle and get your naked ass over here. I want to cuddle."

Marco never had and never would get over that prickly attitude paired with words sweeter than honey.

"Such a charmer." He sassed, scooting over anyway. They silently argued over the position, switching around limbs and shifting postures until they were comfortably wrapped up in each other under the sheets. Marco stretched for a moment, grabbing the cord of the lamp and tugging a few times before the bulb went out and their eyes were left to adjust to the scant light. It didn't take long, and they settled back into the pillows with contented sighs.

"Mmm, baby?" Jean prompted, waiting till he was sure he had the other's attention. Marco chuckled at the feeling of his love absently twisting the band around his finger.

"What, Jean?" He wondered, quirking a curious brow. Jean gave him a shit-eating grin, and the taller regretted responding at all.

"I love you."

He groaned.

"Oh my god, you big gay loser. Go to bed!" Marco hissed, batting the other's hand away before settling his own on a slim hip. Jean only cackled, the sound muted into the pillows. He calmed down quickly enough, though, snuggling closer. More shifting, and they got settled with Jean's nose pressed into Marco's collar, arms twined round his chest.

The silence was comfortable as they drifted off, but Marco managed one last smile.

"I love you too, Jean."

The smaller man whined, weakly slapping his husband's back.

"Shut it, Bodt-Kirstein." He grumbled half-heartedly, pressing even closer. Marco smiled dopily.

"Anything for you, Mrs. Bodt-Kirstein."

Another groan.

"We will discuss the gender-dynamics of our relation in the morning, but I swear to all things holy that if you do not shut your perfect mouth I will kick your freckled ass right out of this bed." Jean warned. Marco only snickered.

"As if you would." He scoffed.

"Don't try me." Jean growled. Marco smirked.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're the one that always ends up on the couch. I'd watch it." Marco shot back. Jean cracked his eyes open only to glower.

"Why did I marry you?" He demanded. Marco's grin only grew.

"Because I'm the best thing that ever happened to you?" He suggested. Jean nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Something like that. Go to sleep." He urged, closing his eyes again. And as much as Marco wanted to torment him further, he too was growing tired, so he relaxed into the plush and the warmth and shut his eyes, just breathing in the life he'd built and the family he'd created. It was a strangely sentimental moment, and he wondered for a time why he was dwelling on it.

Then he remembered that he'd worn his favorite sweater vest to class that day, along with Jean's old leather jacket. It still, somehow, smelled like smoke. Smoke, and vodka, and a night of throwing up, and a night of cuddling, and days of held hands and kisses and hugs, and months of sex, and years of love.

It smelled like Bodt-Kirstein, and there was nothing in the world quite as wonderful as that, in Marco's opinion. Nothing quite like knowing one person so well that you could guess which boxers they were wearing just from the way they trudged down the hall in the morning. Nothing quite like stealing kisses while smooshing a precious child with love, much to his chagrin. Nothing quite like knowing the curves and planes of a body so well that you could draw a three dimensional map without even a glance. Nothing quite like coming home to kisses from a loving husband and hugs from an adoring son, and knowing that it'd be that way for years to come.

Marco knew the name Jean Bodt-Kirstein quite well. He heard it on a nearly constant basis, from friends, or passing gossipers, but mostly, from himself. He'd caught a glimpse in high school, and couldn't help but try to see more. And here he was, a lifetime later, still entranced, still in love. He'd needed an excuse or a happy coincidence.

He'd gotten lucky.

A/N: And as the pink guys says, that's all, folks. I counted this as a chapter, but it functions more accurately as an epilogue, if I'm being honest, considering the time jump. But I like to wrap stories up this way, so that the future isn't so vague that you aren't sure what's in store for them. Now you know: They become big dumb gay domestic losers. Ain't that just the way?

Stefan, who was sort of a spur of the moment decision, quickly earned a big place in my heart. He's up there with Marie, if that's any indication. Any child that insists on a mohawk and a dress is my hero. He'd totally have playdates with Reiner and Bertholdt's kid. And he gave me an opportunity to bring up another issue I consider important. I really think we need to start moving away from gender expectations, and just let children do what they want to do. While I was bought mostly toys for girls, my mother never really limited me. If I wanted a sit and ride truck instead of a Barbie, then she'd get me that. I had one of those child-sized cars, and she let me have the scary red jeep instead of the pink and flowery convertible. I was never told I couldn't play with my cousin's toys when we went over to visit him. (Which was practically on a daily basis.)

Letting children have that freedom will give them an opportunity to explore who they are without the pressure of trying to figure it out later on in life when they've already begun presenting themselves one way, and then possibly trying to change it. Objects only have certain gender associations because we attach them, and why bother with that? Well, that's how I feel, anyway. But regardless, Stefan was a fun character, and he'll probably show up in future JeanMarco fics I put out.

I didn't really mean for this fic to become representation 101. I honestly started out with just Nerd!Marco and Punk!Jean. Somehow, I wound up with not only them, but pastel goth!Armin, Trans!Levi, Polyamorous!Reibert, Genderqueer!Hanji… And more gay and lesbian characters than I can even list. It's been fun, though, and I hope that a few people had an opportunity to learn something along the way.

But most of all, I hope you all had fun reading, because I had a lot of fun writing. I hope it was sweet and angsty and hilarious and even sad sometimes. If you've made it this far, I hope you feel like it was worth your time. However you feel on the matter, though, thank you for sticking around for so long, and for reading. To those that have left feedback, and who might in the future, thank you so much, it seriously means the world to me. If I could send you all flowers and chocolates and gay losers I would but I am poor and there are too many of you and some of you might be allergic to one or all of the above possible gifts.

Since this is the last chapter, I think I ought to mention that I have other stories you can read! For JeanMarco, I've got Where Wildflowers Grow (which is my other, ongoing chaptered fic.) And several one/two shots. I've got a completed EreMin story, called What Lies Beyond the Walls, as well as a few oneshots. I've got a Trans!Bertholdt/Reiner oneshot (That will soon have a second part.) Just be aware that each has a different setting/tone. They won't all be as light and fluffy as this story. And I've written a few things for other fandoms, if you like other fandoms. Feel free to check things out if you like, though it's entirely up to you.

Alright, yep, I'm rambling. So, thank you for being a fantastic audience, and till next time! 3

KuroRiya
九六りや