An anon asked for a modern fighter AU with Jean body worshipping Marco who’s crazy insecure about the burns on his right side. Bonus points for crying babies.
“Let me, please just – just let me. I promise I’ll stop if you say so. Please, darling. I love you. Let me… let me love you like nobody ever has before.”
He isn’t asking for sex. He doesn’t even want Marco to take off his pants. Jean holds him against his chest, has Marco listen to the calm steady beating of his heart, and he whispers love and gentleness to him. They’re songs, almost, little hummed melodies that Jean makes up with his musician’s brain, and there are days when he’s just playing on his guitar hours and hours until his fingers bleed a little. He’s doing it for Marco. He’s doing it for the soft brown eyes he’s fallen in love with – no, not just fallen, he shattered and bursted his shell for that man but still –
Still Marco believes that Jean can impossibly love him.
All he wants is to give him safety. All he wants is to worship him till the end of his life.
“No, I – Jean, you’ll be disgusted by me, you’ll hate me – ” Marco’s voice is tiny, wet from sobbing into Jean’s arms, from clinging to his shirt and from a past of blood, dirty rust and cracked skin. It breaks Jean’s heart.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say that I’ll find you disgusting,” Jean cups Marco’s face and he kisses him. He kisses his lips and his jaw where the burn scars are thickest, where his past marked him with fire when he wanted to escape. Jean lays him down and it’s an eternity, it’s centuries before Marco’s tears dry on Jean’s lips and then Marco nods. Okay. There’s so much doubt in his beautiful eyes, this perfect dark warmth that Jean will love until he dies.
He kisses it all away.
They stay up all night, hiding under Jean’s blanket. No light but the moon shimmering somewhere far away. Marco’s right side is a burnt labyrinth of stories, and Jean discovers, reads, adores them until Marco is curled in his embrace, and, finally – smiles.
Moami 