Work Text:
With a sleepy hum, Marco peeks one eye open. The sun is coming in gently through the soft white curtains, surrounding his living room in a healthy, Sunday-morning glow. A lingering scent of chocolate hangs in the air. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Marco groans and stretches, listening for the telltale quarreling of his boyfriends.
“Look,” comes Jean’s murmur from the direction of the kitchen, “all I’m saying is that if you weren’t such a fucking drama queen –“
“Drama queen?” Eren scoffs. “I was asleep! You were the one that elbowed him off!”
Marco laughs quietly into the coarse couch pillow, shifting his hips. Trying to fit three grown men on a queen-sized bed in any situation is difficult, even with Eren’s eccentric sleeping habits. Jean wasn’t very thrilled about his tendency to sleep spreadeagle, squishing them to the very corner of the bed, but Marco’s never minded much. The couch is just as comfortable.
That’d been what happened last night, he thinks. There’s some foggy memory of him being shoved off the edge of the bed lurking in the corners of his mind. Also, it'd explain why he's on the couch. Humming sleepily, he rakes a hand through his hair, resting his head against the arm rest.
It would make sense that Eren and Jean would be arguing over that, too. Smiling into the couch's fabric, Marco grunts and shifts his hips. Comfortable, he listens closer to their bickering, more amused than anything else.
“Goddamn it, Eren,” Jean grouses as something on the stove hisses, “why don’t you ever go to the couch? Huh?”
“Why don’t you?”
“It’s different!” he snaps, another angry hiss punctuating his words. “You’re the one causing the trouble, asshole!”
“Relax,” Eren says, “I peeked in on him a few seconds ago. He was sleeping like a baby. Marco’s fine with it, and I wouldn’t be.”
“You are literally the worst boyfriend in the world,” Jean groans.
Marco winces, curling his hands around the couch pillow. He can practically feel Eren bristling.
“I don’t see you volunteering to jump out of bed!” he snarls. “Your lazy ass is the one that’s always pushing him out!”
Jean sighs loudly. “Eren, I am not the problem here. You need to control yourself.”
“While I’m sleeping, Einstein?”
“Well, if that’s what it takes!” Someone aggressively turns on the sink. “Or at least scoot the fuck over once he falls out!”
“If you wanted me to scoot over, why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Why aren’t you waking up as you’re shoving your boyfriends out of bed?! Today’s supposed to be Marco’s day, dammit!”
Marco’s day.
A smile slowly spreads over his lips. Marco peeks his eyes open to watch the slowly undulating morning light drifting through the curtains. Right.
“– didn’t even help with the cupcakes,” Jean says in the other room, heaving an irritated sigh.
“Hey, I helped!” Eren defends. “I did that cupcake! See? It's that one in the corner!”
“Oh, okay, I was wondering why it looked so pathetic!”
“Pathetic? Listen, horseface, you’ve been so obsessed with your cupcakes that I’ve had time to wrap all of Marco’s gifts – in the living room. Do you know how hard it was to wrap those things without him waking up?”
“He must be nearly as deaf as you, then!” Jean grumbles. “And don’t mock my cupcakes.”
“Not only did I wrap your presents, but I also put a blanket on that sleepy motherfucker!” Eren growls, getting louder. “Have you seen his bedhair? It’s cute as fuck!”
“I’ve been too busy making him goddamned cupcakes!” Jean huffs, his words accented with yet another crash of metal against the counter.
“For the morning, Jean?” Sarcasm drips from Eren’s tone like acid. “Great. Perfect thing to start the day off with. It’s a much better idea than birthday pancakes or some shit.”
There’s a beat of silence. Marco holds his breath, not putting a fistfight in the kitchen past his boyfriends.
“Ugggggh, dammit,” Jean moans, sounding tired. “Birthday pancakes. Fuck, I’m so stupid…”
“You could’ve spelled ‘happy birthday’ in that nasty whipped cream Marco likes on his,” Eren says solemnly. “Opportunity wasted.”
“Well, it’s your fault I was up so late last night worryin’ about my little junebug!” Jean snaps.
“I – I’m sorry, what?” Eren chokes, and then bursts into a fit of wild cackling. “What the actual – you pretentious little – h-heh – oh my god, Jean –“
There’s the sound of something metal being slammed against the counter, making Marco stiffen on the couch, eyes going wide.
“Cm’ere, you little –“ With a small growl, Jean cuts off. Marco bolts upright, shaking his head like a dog and staggering towards the door. Pins and needles tingle through his legs. Sleep clings to his eyes. He almost trips on the tiles as he stumbles into the kitchen. Clearing his throat, Marco bursts forward, ready to break up a fight –
“Oh!” Marco sighs, sagging against the archway. Jean’s pale fingers are twisted in Eren’s shaggy hair, curling into fists, and Eren seems wrapped around Jean in every possible way. He manages a weary glower towards his handsy boyfriends as they lurch away from each other, both looking extremely guilty, but Jean’s hands are still clenched in his hair, and Eren’s still subtly groping Jean’s ass. Marco laughs, cupping a hand to his forehead and shaking his head.
“You know,” he chuckles in his best imitation of a stern voice, “I thought I’d have to break up a fight on my birthday. You dicks.”
“What? Us? No.” Green eyes gleaming, Eren flashes Marco a cocky grin, poking Jean’s beet red cheek. “Hey, birthday boy, thank this sap, he’s been up since ass o’clock making you cupcakes.”
“He doesn’t have to thank me,” Jean mumbles, swatting Eren away. Nervously, he tries in vain to pat down his raging bedhead. “Just making him breakfast.”
“Thank you, Jean!” Marco leans forward and plants a kiss on Jean’s forehead and grazes his lips against Eren’s cheekbone. “You guys are so sweet. Too good for me, I swear.”
“Nothing’s too good for you,” Eren snorts, and Jean shakes his head, adding a quick, “And I made cupcakes for breakfast, so.”
“Breakfast cupcakes.” He grins. “Better. Hey, if you two wanna keep at it, don’t let me stop you.”
“Nah, moment’s dead,” Eren sighs, throwing one dark-skinned arm over Jean’s shoulders and clutching him tight against his chest. “Moment is so far past dead. Jeanbo, show him those cupcakes you’ve been bitching about.”
“Ugh, let go of me, you oaf,” Jean huffs, throwing Eren’s arm off. “Aight, the little deformed one in the corner is this titan’s –“
“Hey!”
“– but the rest seem edible to me.” Proudly, Jean plucks up a cooking tray from the corner and swings around, shoving it towards Marco. “I looked up a chocolate cupcake recipe and everything. They smell good, so hopefully... they taste good too?”
“Oh.” Marco grins down at the tray, stomach fluttering, heart stuttering with a surge of affection. “Jean. That’s… sweet.”
With a red letter on each cupcake, Jean had spelled out “HAPPY BDAY MARCO” with squiggly, semi-straight letters. It’s a bit off center and a lot of the icing is uneven and patchy, but it’s adorable. Marco’s heart swells, and he beams down at the cupcakes, feeling unreasonably and simply happy.
“Let me guess,” he chuckles. “Eren did the dot on the exclamation mark, right?”
Jean’s expression blackens. “How could you tell?”
“Hey, I think it’s charming!” Eren protests, pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “It’s boring, Marco, admit it. It’s a little star, see?”
“Oh.” Furrowing his brow, Marco inspects the cupcake. “…No, no, not really, I don’t see.”
“Fuck you,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “See if I ever help out in the kitchen again.”
“I can kinda see it from my angle,” Jean says indifferently, setting the tray down on the rickety old kitchen table and dragging Marco to his point of view. “See, the pathetic little points?”
“You just want me in your kitchen,” Eren accuses.
“Maybe a little bit. Sit down with your nasty-ass coffee and eat one of my cupcakes.”
Eren raises an eyebrow cockily. “Didn’t you even get a candle, asshat?”
“That’s okay,” Marco says, chuckling. “Both of you, come sit down, please." He gestures towards their tiny dining table stuffed into a corner of the room, the rickety wooden chairs barely able to hold the three of them. "Let’s eat cupcakes, okay?”
“Hmph.” Jean slides down into a seat, crossing his arms over his chest. The tips of his ears are bright red, and his whiskey eyes shine with irritation. “Couldn’t get any candles.”
Marco nudges his boyfriend with his shoulder, hooking a leg over Jean's thigh. “I don’t need any," Marco says through a reassuring smile. "By the way, your bedhead is adorable." He runs his hands through Jean's hair, flattening his cowlicks. “There you go. Still adorable, though."
“You’re always adorable,” Eren laughs, smacking a sloppy kiss against the corner of Marco’s lips before collapsing in the third chair. “Hey, freckles, happy birthday.”
“Thank you, Eren,” he murmurs, lips pulled back in a gentle smile. “And thank you, Jean, for telling me with cupcakes.”
“Yeah, yeah, you sap,” Jean accuses with a roll of his eyes. “Love you, Marco.”
“Love you both.” Marco happily plucks a cupcake from the tray, the one with the big, quivery M in the vague center. “Even though you’re both huge nerds. But I do.”
“Glad to hear it.” Eren quirks an eyebrow. “Love you too, dork. Love you, horseface. We all love each other.”
“Hmm.” Marco hands him a cupcake. “You can have your deformed star, we’ll eat Jean’s pretty ones. Here, Jean, take the B.”
“You know you want to give him the D.”
“Ugh, Eren,” Jean moans, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Marco. Happy birthday.”
“Happy birthday, Marco, sweetheart,” Eren adds, flashing a tender smile. “Hope you’ll have a good one. ‘Nd another great year.”
“Well,” says Marco thoughtfully, peeling back the paper from the cupcake, “I know that this morning was excellent. You guys are the greatest, you know that?”
“We do now,” Eren says, laughing and taking a huge bite of his cupcake, smattering crumbs over his chin. Chewing open-mouthedly, he adds, “’N us losahs don’ dehurve oo, sa. Oo mu’t beh p’etty huckin’ grea’.”
Bemused, Marco turns to Jean, cocking an eyebrow.
Jean’s lips curl into a small smile. “He says that we don’t deserve you, so you must be incredible. And I agree. Now, eat your cupcakes.”
“Hmm.” He cracks a smile. “Well, if you insist.”
“’Uck yeah, ‘et’s pampah Mah’co!”
Rolling his eyes and smiling wide, Marco takes a small, curious bite at the cupcake, and pauses to savor it. Beside him, Jean is doing the same, humming thoughtfully beneath his breath, a dot of icing on his chin.
It tastes delicious.