This is why they're such good friends. Jean can be vague and indistinct about what he wants or needs, and Marco can see right through his bullshit and get to the heart of the issue. Sometimes, Jean has no idea why Marco continues to put up with him, but he's forever grateful that he does.

"You did?" This is news to Jean, and he sits up. He makes no move to push Marco's hand off his arm--if anything, he's repressing the urge to duck under Marco's arm and curl up against his side--and looks Marco in the face, trying to detect any kind of lie there. Not that he thinks Marco would lie to him, but he still wants to be sure.

As usual, there's no trace of a lie on Marco's guileless face, and Jean inches closer. His scent is strong enough now that even he can smell it, and Marco's right; it does smell like tea.

"Then, we can... try it?" When Marco tucks his chin like that, it sends fizzy little bubbles up and down Jean's spine. He leans in, and very gently noses at the underside of Marco's jaw, along his scent gland. Jean didn't think he'd find anyone to help him with his heats any time soon; he was just assuming he was in for months, if not years, of suffering through them. The fact that it's Marco, his best friend who he loves, feels weirdly right and fitting.