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857, Somewhere Overseas
Most nights spent overseas were punctuated with nightmares. In fact, these nights weren’t so dissimilar to the ones back in the Survey Corps barracks, one of the only things that remained the same since Armin Arlert and Jean Kirstein temporarily relocated during their sprawling tour of peace negotiations.
If the pair were lucky enough, their nightmares would visit them on separate nights. On this increasingly rare occasion, one would always be there to comfort the other, to hold them as they trembled with fear and grief, to tell them everything would be okay, even if there was no way of knowing for sure. But on plenty of these nights, both men would awaken in tears and shouts, fearing going back to sleep and facing the darkness that lay just behind their eyelids. It was hard to comfort each other on those particular nights.
The war had ended almost three years ago, but it was nearly impossible not to still think about the horrors they had once endured as young soldiers.
Armin dreamt of Bertholdt, Erwin, and Hange. He dreamt of the lives he had destroyed, the smell of smoke and fire and death. He felt the crunching of bones between his teeth and beneath his feet, the cries of the injured and scorned. He dreamt about losing his best friend, one of the last things that kept him anchored to life as it once was.
Jean dreamt of Marco and Sasha. He dreamt of a billow of smoke and Connie’s hand on his back, tears prickling his eyes and running down his cheeks as the wind tousled his hair before descending into darkness.
It was terrifying, and it seemed not a night would go by where at least one of them didn’t wake in a cold sweat. And each night, when they laid their heads down on their pillows, it was hard not to wonder whose turn it would be once they drifted off to sleep.
The night before, Armin had woken up, bolt straight and shouting, clinging to the sheets. It took a while, longer than usual, for Jean to calm him down. He had resisted his touch, shouting for him to get back and leave him alone. When he was finally able to get him into a more relaxed state, Jean held Armin’s trembling frame close to his chest, stroked his hair as tears and snot coated his bare chest. Armin’s fingers grasped at the skin of his back, more than likely leaving marks, and he sobbed until sleep overcame him once again. Jean didn’t fall back asleep until the sun started to rise.
He awoke probably just a few hours later, the sun shining into the bedroom past open curtains and onto Jean’s face. Groaning, he stretched his body and rubbed his eyes. These days, any sleep he got never felt like enough.
Armin was already up when Jean finally extracted himself from bed. He walked into their full kitchen to find Armin sitting at the small table where they ate their meals, reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. Jean still had yet to come around to the dark and bitter flavor of the steamy drink people drank first thing in the morning. Even worse was the stronger version everyone drank after dinner in those ridiculously tiny cups.
“It’s espresso, not expresso,” Armin had told him time and time again in that voice of his, always the know-it-all.
Jean only somewhat enjoyed coffee when he cut it with lots of sugar and milk, earning him a disapproving look and the crinkling of Armin’s already upturned nose. He still favored dark black tea the way that Captain Levi used to make it.
“Good morning,” Jean yawned when Armin looked up at him and smiled.
“Morning,” he responded. They both settled into a comfortable silence while Jean bumbled around the kitchen. Neither of them mentioned what had occurred during the night – they never did.
Jean went to the stove to heat a kettle on one of the burners, smiling fondly at the memory of him and Armin fumbling with the stove’s dials for the first time, so unused to the simple technology here that seemed so complex to a couple of bumpkins like them.
“No no no, you turn it so that it stops clicking once the flame comes on! Are you trying to burn the building to the ground?”
Jean chuckled and turned to watch Armin read the paper as the water boiled. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his finger following the words as he read them. He raised that same finger to his mouth to wet it before flipping to the next page. He wore reading glasses now, Armin concluding that his worsening eyesight must have been an inevitable that was only pushed back due to him having been a shifter.
“You know, they print the paper in our language now too,” Jean said, stating the obvious in that way that often made Armin roll his eyes. “You don’t have to read that one.”
Armin laughed breathily through his nose and shook his head, turning the page again absentmindedly. “You know I’m trying to learn, Jean. Makes things a lot easier when someone can read and write in other languages like Pieck, Annie, and Reiner. You and Connie should consider doing the same.”
Jean hummed some type of agreement, or understanding rather, and fixed his cup of tea before sitting down across from Armin. The table was so small, and Jean’s legs so long, that their knees always touched. Armin didn’t look up from his paper but motioned with his chin to the loaf of sliced country bread that sat on the table.
“I picked that up this morning. Make sure you eat before we head out for the day. I don’t need you in a foul mood later while we’re sitting in that meeting.” His lips turned up in a slight smirk at that last part, blue eyes twinkling mischievously.
“You’re so annoying,” Jean muttered, no malice to his voice and trying to keep down his own smile, and helped himself to a slice of fresh bread slathered in butter and jam.
He watched Armin while he ate, never tired of looking at the man he spent every day with. While Jean sat shirtless in his ratty pajama pants, his hair likely in knots and beard in need of a trim, Armin was dressed neatly and his face clean and smooth. He wore his hair parted in the middle now, revealing a high forehead and deceptively dark brows. He looked handsome, Jean thought. More like a man, and less like the boy he was when they first met.
Lost in thought, inquisitive blue eyes met his over the paper. Armin chuckled again, shaking his head.
“Quit staring at me, weirdo.”
“You look handsome,” Jean said around a mouthful of bread. Armin folded down the paper so he could get a better look at Jean, narrowing his eyes and examining his face as if to detect a lie. When he was satisfied with his searching, he flicked the paper back up.
“That was a compliment, in case you didn’t know.” Jean smirked, not needing to see behind the newspaper to know that Armin was blushing.
“Finish your breakfast.”
Jean chuckled and grabbed another piece of bread, savoring it and sipping his tea between bites.
After a while, Armin folded up the newspaper and sighed. “We have to head out soon. Meeting is in the early afternoon and we need to go over our statements with the others beforehand. It would probably be best to leave within the hour.”
Jean nodded.
Armin stood and stretched his arms above his head. He sighed again, a sign of how tired he was lately, and crossed over to Jean’s side of the table, leaning down to brush the hair from his forehead and press a kiss to his skin that was hiding beneath it. Jean cupped Armin’s neck when he started to pull away and brought him back for an innocent kiss on the lips. His breath tasted like mint and coffee.
“Get dressed when you’re done with breakfast and we can head out for the day,” Armin said softly, his hand lingering on the side of Jean’s head, fingers twisting in his hair. “And wear a tie this time. There are going to be some important people there.”
He groaned but nodded again, agreeing when he saw the tight lips and narrowed eyes on Armin’s face.
The stuffy dressing and the air that smelled like both car fumes and ocean brine at the same time was enough to make Jean think he’ll never get used to being overseas. They were staying in a seaside country that had granted them refuge for the time being, along with others from miscellaneous nations who had been displaced just a few years before by the rumbling.
Oftentimes Jean missed open green lawns and the Paradisian countryside, warm bread baking in his mother’s kitchen, the smell of dirt and stabled animals. His chest felt heavy whenever he thought about how they’d be back there in just a short couple of days. It was finally safe to go back.
The briefing went by at a snail’s pace. Armin and Pieck do most of the talking, the two of them the most articulate in their mismatched bunch of former Scouts and Warriors turned peace advocates.
It was hard at first, selling this idea of global peace and acceptance, especially when they all had their own differences to still put aside. Typically, things were amicable. The six of them really only had each other to lean on, anyway. Still, there were fights, some silly and stupid, but some much more emotional. There was a lot of baggage to be undone with, not all of it having been settled that one night around a campfire. Some three years later, these fights were few and far between.
When they finally stepped outside, the sun was already setting. Jean stretched his arms over his head and grunted.
“I thought that meeting would never end,” he muttered. Armin rolled his eyes and went back to talking with Annie and Pieck. Jean milled about with Connie and Reiner. A few minutes later, they said goodnight to their friends and allies, heading their separate ways.
“Want to get some ice cream?” Armin asked, peering up at Jean through his dark lashes. Jean hesitated, struck by Armin’s beauty in the way he was every time he looked at him. Armin furrowed his brow. “It’s alright if you just want to head back to the apartment. I know you’re tired.”
He shook his head. “No, no. Let’s get ice cream.”
They ate and walked along the water, talking about nothing and laughing at each other’s jokes. After a while, they sat on a bench, thigh to thigh. People overseas were a bit more touchy about two men showing their affection, so they had to settle for subtle touches in public.
“I can’t believe we’re heading back there,” Armin whispered, looking across the water. Paradis wasn’t visible from this distance, but Armin’s eyes were focused ahead of him as if it were.
Jean wanted to drape a protective arm over his shoulders, lean over and breathe in the comforting smell of his hair, but he settled for a hand on the knee.
“We’ll be together the whole time. I won’t leave your side.”
Armin nodded. “Yea, I know.”
They were quiet again, watching the sun go down over the horizon casting the water orange, the stars then coming out to shine in the cloudy night sky.
Jean felt Armin squeeze his hand. He looked down and met his eyes, something dark burning in them.
“Let’s go back to the apartment,” he said softly.
“Yea.”
It didn’t take long after the door closed behind them for Jean and Armin to be kissing fervently, grasping onto each other and shedding their clothes. Jean lifted Armin up under his thighs and led him into the bedroom, pressing him into the mattress. Soon, they were a pile of writhing limbs, moaning into each other’s mouths, careful of their volume as not to garner any attention from Connie’s apartment next door.
Armin clung to Jean as he thrust into him, gasping and calling out his name. Jean buried his face in Armin’s neck, groaning and mouthing at the soft flesh and tight muscles. Both of their bodies had gone a bit soft, no longer under the daily scrutiny of training and fighting. They were regular men now, things like that didn’t matter as much.
In the afterglow, Armin held Jean against him, letting him rest where he had collapsed on top of him. Jean’s head was tucked under Armin’s chin, an arm wrapped around him and his other hand stroking his hair and scratching gently at his scalp with his fingernails.
“Do you think it will be weird?” Armin asked, cutting the silence with his soft voice.
“Hm?” Jean hummed lazily, too blissed out to think about what he might be saying, the feeling of fingers in his hair too distracting.
“Going back,” Armin said. “I wonder if it will be weird after three years. Mikasa wants us to visit her in Shiganshina. She wants us to come see Eren. That’s what she said in her letter.”
Jean had to think for a moment before speaking. Over the last couple years, Armin had shed a lot of tears over Eren, over Mikasa too. Jean had shed his fair share as well but tried to hide his grief for Armin’s sake. For him, it was like losing a member of his family. Not spending each day with Mikasa was a loss for Armin as well. Each day, Jean had to count himself lucky that he had a mother on the island who regularly sent him letters and who held the promise of future visits.
It was only recently that Armin had started to talk about Eren with a fond remembrance, sharing childhood stories about their trio and the things they would get up to as kids. He still cried when he talked about him, but now just a few silent tears while he smiled at the memories. He even laughed when Jean shared his own stories about Eren and the stupid fights they would have back when they were cadets.
“I think you’ll feel good going back. Get it over with, you know? It’s been a while, but we need to go back eventually.”
“Yea.”
“I told you, I’ll be with you the whole time.”
He was quiet again for a few minutes, arms wrapping a bit tighter around Jean and sighing as he continued to stroke his hair.
“We should visit your mom.”
Jean breathed in the smell of Armin at the crook of his neck. He smelled sweet, like lavender, sex, and sweat. Inexplicably, he smelled like those open fields – green grass and blue skies. To Jean, he smelled like home.
“Yea,” he said, drifting off to sleep, no longer fighting his own will to stay awake. “I’d like that.”
“You seem awfully concerned with how your hair looks yourself, Jean,” Pieck said in her bored-sounding voice. “Trying to look good for someone?”
“For all the girls who read history books,” he retorted, running his fingers through his sandy brown hair. He thought he heard Armin snort behind him, glancing back through the mirror to see him shake his head and smirk while he looked down at Historia’s letter.
They all talked for a bit, preparing for what it meant to return back to the island. Jean argued with Reiner for a bit as well before Annie came in to tell them that Paradis was just within view.
Outside on the deck, Jean leaned against the railing, feeling the cool ocean air flutter his clothes and muss his hair. He looked over at Armin, standing at the front of the ship lost in thought, watching the sky and the land in front of them coming into view.
After three days of peace negotiations, the ambassadors were allowed a couple days of rest to visit around the island as they pleased. They would first stop in Trost on their way out of the Capital, visit Jean’s mother, and then head to Shiganshina to see Mikasa and Eren. Soon, it would be time to head back out to the mainland.
Jean felt relief when Armin said he wanted to take the trip on horseback rather than carriage. He had craved the feeling of holding leather reigns and the wind blowing through his hair as they rode through the town.
It wasn’t a long trip, but they did have to stop overnight and set-up camp so that they could ride the rest of the way from the Capital to Trost in the daylight. They laid on their bedrolls under flannel blankets looking up at the clear night sky filled with stars. Armin pointed out constellations and told Jean all about the things he read about and saw in them that he didn’t know when he was a kid. Jean could listen to him talk for hours on end about nothing if he wanted to, but it was even better hearing his voice when he was enthusiastic and knowledgeable.
Sleep came fast and so did morning. Soon enough, they were back on the road.
Jean’s mother stood at the front door of Jean’s childhood home, arms outstretched and waiting when her son and his blonde companion came into view.
“Jean!” she called out, practically running down the walk to meet them and pull him into one of the tightest embraces of his life. Tears prickled in Jean’s eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her too, squeezing so that he knew she was real.
She pulled back and examined him, chattering about how much he was growing to look like his father but that she thought he should cut his hair. He bit his tongue, not wanting to soil the moment with a stupid argument, and turned her attention to Armin who stood shyly behind him.
“Mom, you remember Armin, right?”
“Of course!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug before looking him over as well. “My, have you grown too since I met you back when you two were young. Both of you are so handsome.”
He smiled and thanked her, and Jean could see some of his nerves melting away. Jean wished he had a camera to capture this perfect moment and keep it with him forever. He would have to settle for the memory alone.
His mother whirled them into a day of playing catch-up and prepping for a big and hearty dinner. They ate and laughed and shared stories about the old days. She asked what life was like for them now, and they spared her the more grueling and boring details. Armin made sure to share his fair share of Jean’s embarrassing moments that she wasn’t there for, like the time he got drunk and hurt himself by trying to do a onehanded handstand to impress Armin. She laughed hard at that one.
After dinner, Armin stood and collected their dishes, waving Jean’s mother off when she protested.
“Jean-boy, go help Armin with the dishes,” she said in a stern tone, frowning and obviously disappointed that he hadn’t taken the initiative to clean up himself.
Armin looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Jean-boy,” he mouthed, eyes crinkling at their corners, lips turning up and quivering as he tried to suppress a laugh. The day had been too warm and nostalgic for Jean to get any bit mad at either of them.
That night they slept in Jean’s childhood bedroom curled up against one another in the tiny bed that had been too small for Jean even when he was only fourteen. They had made out for a bit but decided it would be weird to do anything more than that here. It could wait until they were back at the apartment.
The morning held a breakfast just as hearty as the previous night’s dinner, followed with tearful goodbyes, long embraces, and the promise of writing more often. They rode on their horses down the cobbled street that wound through the town towards where the wall once stood between Trost and Shiganshina.
Mikasa had grown her hair long again, and she wore it pulled back into a ponytail. Oddly enough, she looked younger. If Jean hadn’t known her, he would have never thought this delicate young woman had been one of humanity’s strongest soldiers, second to Captain Levi himself.
She flitted around the kitchen prepping tea, and as the water boiled, she fussed over Armin, asking if he was getting enough sleep. Her motherly nature was obviously still intact.
Jean enjoyed watching the two of them interact. It reminded him of the old days in a way that being around Connie or just Armin alone didn’t. Being around Mikasa made him miss Sasha, and, to his surprise, Eren as well. His chest panged, but the familiarity of their two voices going back and forth made a bit of warmth flood through him.
They drank tea and ate a simple lunch of steamed vegetables and roasted chicken. Mikasa talked about how the farmland just outside of Shiganshina had been doing well that year and she was considering raising a few farm animals herself. She certainly had the space for it in the yard outside her small countryside home.
The idyllic chatter went on a while longer after they ate before it dulled into a comfortable silence. Just like at his mother’s house, Jean thought it was nice to hear actual silence, rather than cars and people outside. He really hadn’t realized how much he missed Paradis.
After a bit more of the quiet, Mikasa spoke up, looking at Armin. “Do you want to go see Eren?” she asked quietly, shy almost. Jean could tell by the look on Armin’s face that he had been dreading this part of the visit, but it was something he knew he had to do. It was something that he wanted to do.
Armin agreed and Jean stayed down at the house while they headed up the hill to visit Eren, figuring this situation garnered a bit of privacy. He would go up and meet them in a bit or go on his own a bit later before they went back to the docks.
Jean settled into an old, worn out armchair in the living space, leaning his head back and dozing off to the sounds of nothing.
The sun started to set by the time Jean heard the front door open, waking him from his light slumber. He turned, and to his surprise, only Mikasa came inside. She smiled at him and looked down at the floor.
“You should go up and see him,” she said softly, and Jean wasn’t exactly sure if she had meant Eren or Armin.
Outside, the air was getting a bit of a chill, causing Jean to shiver. He walked down the trail that led to the fielded part of the area, which sloped into a tall hill with a tree at the top. The closer Jean got as he trudged up it, he could see Armin sitting cross legged in front of a little headstone.
Jean was overcome by a wave of emotions when he approached the spot. He hesitated for a moment when Armin didn’t acknowledge him standing beside him, but he decided to join him by sitting beside him, grunting a bit as he got onto the ground.
Armin didn’t speak for a while. Minutes stretched on and the sun got lower and lower in the sky, setting the whole horizon ablaze. It was almost peaceful.
“I miss him.” Armin’s voice cut the heavy silence like a blade. He sounded worn and helpless. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
Jean took a moment to look at his profile. The setting sun cast shadows on his face that made him look small and fragile. He looked sullen, downcast, and it hurt Jean to see.
He had heard the stories of this hill, of all the time they spent here as kids. They played, they napped, they even fought sometimes – but every fight was followed by an apology. Under this tree, Armin felt normal. He forgot that he had no parents and that he was bullied. He forgot that his grandfather was only growing older and weaker by the day. He forgot that they were trapped inside those merciless walls. Under this tree, Armin measured his time in Eren and Mikasa, in their friendship.
Hesitantly, Jean put an arm around Armin’s shoulders, feeling relieved he hadn’t overstepped a boundary when he sank into his touch. His relief quickly turned to pain when he felt Armin shaking with quiet sobs.
Inside his head, Jean cursed Eren for making things turn out this way. Armin had explained their time in Paths together to him, and Jean understood. Still, it didn’t dull the pain that plagued their lives each and every day. He would have never thought he would wish for life to go back to the way it was before they even knew of the outside world. Strangely enough, that time seemed easier. Things were more clear and they were all so much younger and more innocent.
He hated that Armin still hurt like this. The man had accepted death too many times in his life. He was riddled with guilt, no matter how often he was told in the past seven years that he shouldn’t be. It seemed like something had changed in him too, when he realized he was no longer destined to die an early death at the age of 28. Life held the promise of old age and growing old with someone. Jean didn’t let it hurt him that much when he knew deep down Armin had always wanted Eren to be there if old age was ever an option.
I’ll take care of him Jean thought to himself before looking up at the darkening sky. I’ll take care of him, Eren.
Jean sat there with Armin for a while longer, before he begrudgingly told him they should say goodbye to Mikasa and head back to the docks soon.
They walked back down the hill, hand in hand.
The boat they took back to the mainland set sail at night. Connie, Reiner, Annie, and Pieck all turned in after boarding, settling themselves in the cabin for some sleep. Jean yawned, telling them to go ahead without him, despite the way his eyelids drooped and his feet dragged.
He found Armin standing on the deck, leaning against the railing and staring out into the starry night spread out endlessly above the dark ocean. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie, which lay lazily on a bench a few feet behind him, and his white button down was rolled up at the sleeves and untucked from his slacks.
“You’re going to catch a cold, Armin,” Jean said, causing Armin to jump a bit as if he didn’t hear him approaching.
“Oh,” he said softly, distractedly. “I’m fine.”
Jean resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he shed his own jacket and hung it over his partner’s shoulders. Armin smiled weakly up at him, his eyes a bit glazed and glassy.
“Thanks,” he whispered and looked back out at the water, pulling the jacket tighter around him. Jean wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but knew the things that were probably swimming through his head right now were beyond simple comfort. He knew that if he asked, whatever answer he got would be too much for him to be able to soothe with any words. Instead, he settled for putting an arm over Armin’s shoulders and tugging him close to his body, joining him in staring out at the sea and the stars. After a few moments, it seemed that Jean didn’t even have to ask to hear what was on Armin’s mind.
“I wish she would come stay with us. I don’t like the idea of her alone in that house all the time.”
Jean thought about Mikasa and the sad eyes she looked at them with, the ones that somehow paired so well with the soft and warm smile on her lips. Despite everything, she seemed content. She’s close to Eren, he thought, but kept that thought to himself.
“She’s strong, Armin. I think she likes being back home.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I just worry.”
The two of them were silent again, the sound of water rushing beneath the boat being the only thing to fill their ears. Jean rested his head on the soft blonde hair tucked against his chest, the free strands fluttering at his chin and tickling his lips. It was peaceful, there on that boat, just the two of them. He knew it wouldn’t always be like this, but relished in the moments when it was.
“Let’s spend the next couple of days in bed,” Jean offered. “You can read more of that book to me.”
“I have to work on the proposal.”
“It can wait until the work week starts. I think we deserve a little time off.”
“Maybe,” he said. The way he curled closer to Jean’s body told him that his simple maybe was much more definitive than he wanted to let on. “We did leave off on sort of a cliffhanger last time.”
Jean chuckled and nodded his head. He liked when Armin read stories to him from the novels he picked up at the shop down the street. They were a lot different than the ones he was used to from back home.
“I think I’d like a little house back home someday,” Armin said suddenly. “A cottage, like the ones in the outskirts of Trost. We could visit your mother whenever we wanted to. Mikasa would just be a short trip out of the city.”
“That would be really nice,” Jean mused, and he meant it. He closed his eyes and thought of a little house on a hill, rolling greens as far as he could see, and a garden in the back. He would watch Armin tend to vegetables and chickens in their yard while he baked bread in the kitchen, just the way his mother did. Maybe they would have a dog, or someday a kid or two. Maybe they would grow old in that cottage, round bellies and grey hair. Wrinkled skin and gnarled fingers.
“Maybe things would feel a little normal again,” Armin whispered. “I’m just not sure we deserve it though, peace like that. I’m not sure we deserve to know what normal feels like, or if it even exists anymore.”
Jean’s grip tightened around him. For once, he doesn’t argue, because he himself thinks the same thing.
“Someday,” he whispered back, lips pressed onto cornsilk hair. “But for now, let’s go back inside. Get some sleep and warm up before docking.”
“You go. I want to stay out here a little longer.”
Jean hesitated but nodded his head and pulled away from Armin. “Alright. Just… don’t fall overboard.”
Armin laughed quietly and glanced at Jean. In the dark, his eyes reflected the starry night. They held the whole world in them. His eyes, they held love and adoration and about a thousand other things. Jean never wanted to lose sight of those eyes.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”