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“This is what I want.” Armin announces suddenly, pointing to the screen. It’s Chick-Flick Friday so the two claimed the living room in the main house and put on Jean’s favourite: The Proposal.
Jean readjusts slightly, reaching into the now empty bowl of popcorn. Armin always finishes it off without Jean realising. “What do you want?” Though Jean asks, he secretly hopes Armin will dismiss it to talk about later or at least pause the movie. Sandra Bullock is about to turn around and call the wedding off because she loves Ryan Reynolds and can’t bare to ruin his life by marrying him. It’s Jean’s third favourite part and Armin knows this.
“This!” He gestures unhelpfully. Reluctantly, Jean pauses the movie.
Hugging his boyfriend closer he prompts, “Use your words.”
Armin sighs as he throws back his head. It rests on Jean’s shoulder gently. “I want this sense of family and tradition. She’s wearing his grandmother wedding dress for God’s sake!” His hands are outstretched, shaking in frustration. “They’re passing on tradition while welcoming her into their family. I mean it’s not the perfect wedding because her father isn’t walking her down the aisle,” Armin talks animatedly with his hands and nearly knocks the glass bowl to the floor before Jean moves it to the table, “and none of her friends are there. Wouldn’t that be wonderful!” Armin lets out a wistful sigh. “And she looks so beautiful. Then they’ll have amazing honeymoon sex because look at them,” Armin points to the screen where it’s paused on Sandra’s sad face. “They both look like Gods. Then they’ll live in a beautiful house with a nice garden overlooking the lake and they’ll probably have two or three children down the line,” He looks up at Jean, “All named after English poets, of course. And they’ll be happy, with some issues. No one is perfect but they’ll be happy.” Armin sighs again, looking back to the screen when he finishes his tangent.
Jean pulls Armin into his lap so the blond faces him. “You want the white-picket fence lifestyle?”
Armin thinks about this for a moment. “To an extent. People often want what they can’t have.” His face falls and Jean feels his own heart breaking for the person he loves. Jean knows that Armin isn’t exactly the holiest or most righteous person, but he works so hard to provide care and comfort for the people he loves that he should be able to live his life the way he wants.
Jean wraps his arms tight around Armin’s stomach, cuddling him into his chest. “You can have that Armin. You can get married, buy a quaint little house in a suburban neighbourhood, buy a labrador or golden retriever and call it something pretentious like Othello. Then you can have kids and call them,” Jean pauses as he struggles to come up with the names of famous English poets. “Sylvia, William and- and-”
Armin giggles behind his hand. “Aleister.” He offers.
“Aleister?” Jean laughs, Armin grinning up at him. “Alright, Sylvia, William and Aleister. Then you can send them to a good school and mop up their tears when they’ll bullied for their dumb fucking names- Ow!” Jean pouts as he rubs the arm Armin just hit with a laugh. They laugh together for a little while and Jean begins to focus on the warmth against his chest emitted from Armin’s back. He smiles softly, resting his chin on the crown of the blond’s head.
Armin interrupts the silence seriously. “If you think we’re naming our child after Sylvia Plath, you’ve got another thing coming. Also she was American not English but I’ll let that slide.”
Jean doesn’t point out that Armin said, ‘our child.’ Instead his smile widens as he appeases Armin and hits the play button.