The Infirmary

Please Keep Breathing

Jean felt his mother grip his hand tight as Hanji gave them the solemn news. He bit his lip, refusing eye contact with anyone in the room. He felt angry tears well up in his eyes, but furiously blinked them away before anyone could notice. Jean caught site of Armin frantically burying his face in his book, obviously trying not to intrude.

Jean appreciated his efforts.

"...he'll be able to walk though, correct?" Jean's mother asked Hanji, frantically searching the Auburn haired woman's face for answers.

"Correct, but he'll have a bad limp." Hanji confirmed, a look of remorse on her face. "He'll need to stay here until his legs are healed, once he's on his feet we can discuss his position in the Corps. It's possible we could find him a job at base alongside Armin." She explained, gesturing to the only other patient in the room.

"You mean there's a chance I can stay?" Jean perked up, "what would I do?"

"Ah, well, Armin's going to help us with strategizing here at base... you're a pretty quick thinker yourself, So there's a chance Erwin would allow you to join the team." Hanji explained thoughtfully.

Nodding, Jean felt himself relax a bit. Hanji continued explaining the physical therapy process to his mother, and before long, she's being ushered to sign consent forms in Hanji's office. When the door shuts, and the two women are gone, the Infirmary is left in a state of silence. Yawning, Jean began to nod off until he was startled awake by Armin.

"I'm sorry about your legs." Armin muttered, turning to face the brunette. The gashes on his body were beginning to scar, leaving rough pink lines instead of the angry red ones. His wrist was no longer bandaged, but his right eye was as unfocused as ever.

"I'm sorry about your eye." Jean responded softly, "guess we're both permanently damaged."

"Heh... yeah, I guess so," Armin smiled at him softly, brushing blonde bangs out of his face. Jean felt his cheeks begin to heat up, but chalked it up to a slight fever. After all, what else could it be?

Shaking his head to bury the thoughts, Jean reached over to grab a tin of cookies his mother had brought him. Popping the lid, he couldn't help but smile as the smell of his mothers homemade chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air. He took one out, and was about to return the tin to his bedside table when he noticed Armin looking at him. "What?" He questioned, taking a bite of the cookie.

Armin's face went red as he quickly looked away. "Sorry! I just... " he trailed off, face going redder as Jean continued to stare.

"You just what?"

Armin mumbled something inaudible, head now in his hands. Raising an eyebrow, Jean asked him to repeat himself, reaching for another cookie as he awaited an answer.

"I-I... just, haven't had a cookie in a long time." The petite male choked out, head still in his hands, the parts of his face visible to Jean beet red.

"Well, do you want one?" Jean asked, grabbing a cookie from the bin and holding it out for him.

"Huh?..."

"Do you want a cookie?" Jean reiterated, smiling amusedly. Shyly, Armin nodded, removing his hands from his face as he slowly got up to walk to Jean's bed. When he reached it, he hesitated.

"You're sure?..."

"Just take the damn cookie, Arlert." Jean grinned, shoving it into small hands. Jean snickered at the squeak Armin emits, face still impossibly red as he choked out an embarrassed "thank you" before shuffling back to his own bed. Armin held the dessert with both hands, nibbling at it softly. He avoided eye contact with Jean. Said brunette couldn't help but grin at how cute the display was.