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Armin shifted, frowning a little. Something was wrong. On his right Marco cuddled next to him, arms wrapped around his waist. But his left side was cold and empty. Jean wasn't in bed next to him. Armin shifted deeper into Marco's embrace, tugging the blankets on his left side closer to try and make up for the empty spot. Marco sighed into Armin's hair, tightening his grip. The smaller boy drifted back to sleep again, still missing Jean's presence on his other side.
"Oi, get up you two. It's nearly noon."
The two boys groaned in unison as Jean opened the curtains, letting the winter sun shine over them. Jean tried to tug the blankets off of them, but Marco growled, peeking one eye open.
"Do it and I'll bite your dick off, French boy."
Jean glared at Marco for a moment, before bursting out laughing. Armin sat up, smiling as well. The freckled boy was always aggressive when he was tired, even more so than Jean. Armin stretched, his pajama shirt lifting as he did so. Marco grabbed him, planting kisses along his exposed belly, causing the blonde to squeak and push him away.
"Marco, stop! You know I'm ticklish!"
"No. You're too cute not to kiss. Help me, Jean."
Jean grinned and held Armin down, joining Marco in kissing the smaller boy's belly as he squirmed and giggled.
"Seriously, guys, stop! Hahaha, s-stop! I won't make you brunch if you keep this up!"
This made the two pull away from him as he gasped for air, pulling his pajama shirt down. Marco pouted, pulling the blankets back up to his chin. Jean sat up on the side of the bed, hands held up in a placating gesture, trying to talk some reason into the blonde.
"Hey now, c'mon, you wouldn't starve us, would you? That's just cruel, Armin."
Armin smirked, enjoying the power he held over his boyfriends, pursing his lips and frowning as though in deep thought.
"I don't know... I mean I am grievously injured after your brutal attack."
Armin made a mock expression of pain, which earned him a shove from Marco, who mumbled through the blankets.
"Stop teasing, I didn't get dinner last night"
Armin stroked Marco's sleep-ruffled hair, sighing. No wonder the freckled boy was so moody this morning. Marco had a bad habit of skipping meals when he was tired, and the other two always paid for it the next morning. Armin should have noticed when he started pouting, but he had been recovering from being tickled half to death. The blonde grunted as he got out of bed, Jean taking his spot next to Marco, reprimanding him for not eating.
"Marco, we even left a plate for you in the fridge. You need to eat."
"Too tired. Besides, you two looked really warm, I couldn't resist laying down."
Armin left the two to cuddle, walking into the kitchen before even brushing his teeth. It was his day off, anyways, and he wanted to make sure Marco got something to eat before too long. Beaten eggs went into a pan with diced potatoes, onions, and chicken from their meal the previous night. While that cooked Armin toasted and buttered the last of their bread, writing down on the shopping list to get more. With a start the blonde realized he'd forgotten cheese, pulling a block out of the fridge and grating it before covering the pan with a lid to let it melt.
Marco shuffled his way into the kitchen, plopping down at the table and sniffing the air appreciatively, practically drooling over himself. Jean snorted and shoved a clean dish rag at him, grabbing plates to set the table.
"Seriously, Marco, don't starting dripping on the table or something."
"Oh shut up, French boy..."
Jean kissed a pouting Marco on the cheek as he poured all three of them juice, muttering, "Oui, mon roi."
Marco sipped his juice, eyes brightening as Armin put a plate loaded with hash and toast in front of him. The freckled boy fell on the food like a starving dog, while his boyfriends ate more delicately. Jean moaned around his fork, making sure to swallow before speaking.
"This is fantastic, Armin. I don't know what me'n Marco would do without you. You're the best."
Armin blushed, muttering, "I know you can cook, Jean, and damn good too. You're just too lazy to clean up."
Marco managed to slow his frantic eating enough to offer his own comment, holding a hand in front of his mouth as he talked around his food.
"I know what we'd do. We'd end up getting fast food and frozen dinners like we did before. McDonald's doesn't hold a candle to this, though."
Armin's blush deepened, and he tilted his head forward to try and hide it behind his hair. This only really managed to get him a mouthful of it, though, and he spit and spluttered, trying to get the hair out of his mouth. Jean and Marco tried to keep from laughing as Armin managed to recover. The blonde stood up and dropped his empty plate into the sink, pouting a little.
"If you think I'm funny, then you two can be on dish duty. And maybe I'll make you get fast food for dinner as well."
Jean stood up, wrapping his arms around Armin's waist and gently blowing his hair out of the way so he could kiss the blonde's neck. Armin groaned for a moment before muttering his defeat, glaring at Marco as the freckled boy chuckled.
"Fine, fine, I'll cook. But you two are still cleaning up. And no complaining."
Jean closed his mouth, having been about to do just that. Marco gave them both a quick peck on the lips before heading to the shower to get ready for work, offering to clean the dishes that evening. His mood was considerably brightened with food in his stomach, and Armin made sure to pack him the last of the chicken for his lunch.
----
Jean cranked up the heat in his old van, glancing at Armin in amusement. The smaller boy had put on an oversized sweater, hat, scarf, and gloves for their shopping trip. Even still, he shivered and brought his knees to his chest. The French boy sighed as his partner retreated into his sweater like a child, becoming nothing more than a bundle of shivering fabric.
"It's only Fifty-six degrees, Armin. You can't possibly be that cold."
Armin's whine sounded muffled, like his gloved hands were in front of his mouth to trap his breath, "I am this cold!"
Another sigh from Jean, though a wide smile tugged at his mouth. "Mon pauvre prince congelé. What are you gonna' do when it actually gets cold?"
"I'll just have to cuddle up with your stupid Canadian ass and the living hot water bottle. I don't understand how the both of you don't turn into popsicles."
Jean chuckled as he concentrated on the road, switching on the radio. He punched the dash to knock the static out of the speakers, causing Armin to peek out of his cocoon with a small frown. That frown deepened as he made out the words the radio host was saying.
"...winter weather advisory, due to take effect around six pm tonight as a severe cold front moves in. Temperatures are expected to drop into the teens after sunset. The DOT asks that if you must be on the roads that you use extreme caution, as patches of snow and ice are expected..."
Jean turned the radio down and glanced over at Armin, head fully out of his sweater like some kind of odd turtle. He didn't have to take his attention away from the road for very long to catch the blonde's worried expression. Jean's voice faltered as he turned down the radio. He already knew the answer to his question, but he wanted the comfort of Armin's voice beside him, even if it was only to confirm his fears.
"H-hey, what time does Marco get off work?"
"Ten-thirty. Jean, he took the scooter, too."
"I can pick him up when we're done shopping. It'll be fine. Heh, maybe he's already gotten off and is waiting at the apartment for you to cook dinner?"
Jean was not confident of that, and his voice showed it. Both of the boys knew that Marco's boss was an extreme hardass, and wasn't likely to let Marco go until the heavens started raining fire. Jean had told their freckled partner many times over to just quit and find a new job, but he'd been insistent that he could deal with it. That might not be a problem soon, though. Jean was determined not to leave without Marco safely beside him, and if that meant cursing at his boss and losing the other his job, so be it.
Jean barely noticed that he missed the turn into the grocery store parking lot, cursing under his breath in French. Armin slid his arm back out of his sleeve to place his hand comfortingly on Jean's shoulder, giving him a little squeeze. Jean sighed, finally pulling into the parking lot and finding a space. He smiled at Armin before turning the van off and opening his door, earning a squeal of protest from the smaller boy as he recoiled away from the cold. Jean chuckled at his boyfriend's hesitation to leave the warmed van, though he noted darkly that the temperature had definitely dropped below the mid-fifties. Jean wrapped an arm around Armin's waist, both lending his warmth and urging him forward in a rush to get the shopping done with.
Armin had the forethought to stock up on some essentials after the news of the storm coming their way. That meant a lot of time in the canned food aisle, trying to find the best deal. Even with three of them working, they still tried to be as frugal as possible. Armin got so few hours at his job, and the other two liked to have time off enough that all three could be together at some point during the day, even if only a few minutes. Besides that, they were saving up to buy a house together, which meant some sacrifices had to be made.
Getting antsy, Jean pulled out his cell phone and checked the current weather, grunting in surprise as his app said it had dropped into the low forties. The cold front must be moving quicker than expected. The boy tapped out a quick text to Marco about the situation, not really expecting an answer but hoping he got the news. With a start, Jean realized Armin had continued on to the next aisle, and he dashed ahead to find the smaller boy.
Over the course of the shopping trip Jean sent another text and a phone call to Marco, getting more and more fidgety. Armin absentmindedly held his hand, but the blonde's attention was focused on the figures in his head and making sure they didn't step beyond their budget. Jean understood, and knew he'd never be able to keep track of everything like that, but he still wished it didn't take quite so damn long.
Jean didn't get to relax when they finally reached the checkout counter. Armin didn't like using the self-serve register, and the only line open was staffed by none other than Eren Jaeger. The small blonde didn't even notice at first, still caught up going through a final round of calculations, but Eren's voice snapped him out of his deep thought.
"Oh, it's you."
Armin seemed to shrink. Jean gave Eren a warning glare but continued unloading their cart onto the conveyor belt. The brunette ignored him, speaking only to Armin with a slight hint of disgust in his tone.
"I thought you were dating the other one. Does Jean here know you're cheating on him?"
"You know very well that's not how it works."
Armin had lost some of his conviction, being caught off guard like this. He hadn't known Eren was working today, or he'd have told Jean to go to a different store. Really, there was no reason for him to know anymore. Armin and Eren had broken up almost two and a half years ago on bad terms, and it seemed Eren still had not let go of his resentment.
Armin jumped as he felt a hand around his waist, looking up at Jean as he was wrapped in the taller boy's protective embrace. It had partly been his crush on the French Canadian that had caused the rift between Armin and his childhood friend. The two had been exploring a tentative relationship, but it was already marred by Armin's seeing Marco. In his defense, the blonde hadn't been aware that Eren had considered their relationship exclusive yet. They'd been on a few romantic dates, but neither had said anything concrete. And when Jean moved in nearby, and Marco started pining over him... Eren had not taken the idea of a polyamorous relationship well. Even less so when he learned about Armin and Marco's make-out's. It had been a mess and the blonde had taken a long time to get over it.
No, to forget. Because he still loved Eren, and still wanted him, but only if he could accept that Armin loved other people as well.
That didn't seem to be the case, as Eren raised a lip at the sight of the two, nearly breaking a few bags as he packed up their groceries. Armin grimaced as the eggs were thrown into a bag, wondering if any had cracked. He stopped Jean from checking, not wanting to deal with the argument if they were. Armin kept track of their finances, but Jean was skilled in the area of getting deals. The blonde and Marco were much too timid to return items or ask for refunds, which was where Jean came in. With a quick thought, Armin mouthed their boyfriend's name to Jean, reminding him of the imminent storm, which stopped him in his tracks.
As the two placed their groceries back in the cart, Armin looked sadly at Eren, who refused to meet his gaze. Even with his obvious animosity, the blonde felt like he should extend the offer once again. He realized it was probably rubbing salt into old wounds, but he couldn't simply let Eren go without reminding him.
"I love you, Eren. Our home is always open if you change your mind."
"Go rot in hell. I'm taking my break."
And with that, Eren ripped off his apron and stomped away. The breakroom wasn't far, and Armin and Jean heard a sickening thud that was no doubt Eren punching the cinder block wall. Jean dragged the smaller boy by the hand as Armin called out a final goodbye.
"Please get home safe, Eren, there's a nasty storm coming. I don't want you to get hurt!"
Another thud. Armin wondered if it was the same fist or the other one. He was very quiet as they exited the store and loaded up the back of the van. Jean shivered in his light clothes, looking up at the angry clouds that had begun to blot out the sun, thick with precipitation.
"Shit, y fait froid! Maybe we shouldn't stop by the apartment first?"
Armin nodded, already spotting the first few snowflakes. His nail beds were turning blue, and Jean cranked up the heat as they climbed into the old van. There was silence as Jean drove, not turning on the radio again. Armin watched the odd color fade from his fingers as circulation returned, and Jean focused on the road in the quickly dimming light. It wasn't quite evening, but the sun would be setting by the time they got back home, and the storm clouds were quickly blotting out the late afternoon light. Jean sighed after a while, breaking the silence.
"C'est un trou de cul, you shouldn't let it get to you. If he reacts that way, then he's just plain no good."
"I know, but... I do still love him. I can't help it."
"Je sais, et tu l'aimera jusqu'à ta mort."
Armin smiled despite the tears stinging his eyes.
"You're doing it again, you know I still only understand the basics."
"Sorry, I'm just really worried. This storm seems to be moving really fast. Can you try calling Marco again?"
Armin nodded, pulling out his own phone. He was surprised when Marco answered, the smile evident in his voice. His boss had let him off early only at the threatening clouds overhead. Armin urged him to stay where he was and not to try and take the scooter home, to which Marco laughed and gave his word. When the two arrived in the van, Marco was leaned against the red and black motor scooter, breathing into his cupped hands to warm them. Jean locked the doors as the freckled boy made to open them, rolling down his window with a raised eyebrow.
"Mon roi, qu'est-ce que tu fait dans ce froid?"
"Oh, you know, just waiting for my ride to get here. What took so long?"
Marco leaned against the open window. Unlike Armin, he was fluent enough in French to understand their boyfriend, though his own speech was lilted. If he'd ever finished his minor in the language he'd be able to speak it better, and so Jean teased him every chance he got. But before the French Canadian could think of a comeback, Marco had slid through the open window onto his lap, honking the van's horn a few times in the process of scrabbling into the back seats.
Armin tried to stifle a giggle as Jean exclaimed a few words he knew would never be said in polite company, but Marco's mock look of indignation was too much, and he laughed silently, gasping for air as the van pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. They had no choice but to leave the scooter there, though Marco had parked it under the thickest-branched dead tree he could find, hoping vainly for some form of protection.
As Armin slowly regained his composure, the other two boys bickered, half in French and half in English. The small blonde didn't have to understand more than the basic gist of the French parts to know that that the two were just carrying on good-naturedly, as usual. He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled into the back of the van with Marco, holding him tightly, even as his over-sized sweater engulfed his hands. How anyone couldn't want two such perfect boyfriends, Armin didn't know. But then, he didn't know why he was still in love with Eren, either. Marco looked down at Armin fondly, wrapping an arm around him and stroking his side even as he continued bickering with Jean.
When they got home, Marco carried a dozing Armin up to the apartment and placed him gently on the couch before helping Jean bring the groceries up. The blonde was roused from his light slumber at the sound of cabinets being opened and cans being roughly rearranged. Jean was tossing things into the pantry as Marco frantically rearranged them, complaining about having a system. I was slightly amusing, since Marco never cooked and so never needed to know where most things were, but Armin thought it was half just an act to mess with Jean.
The blonde rummaged in an untouched bag for something as he gazed out the kitchen window. Flurries of snowflakes had begun to fall thickly on the ground, ever so slowly coating the world in a blanket of white. Armin wondered if Eren had gotten home safely, and felt a pang of guilt stab through his chest. He shoved the thought aside as he found what he was looking for, quietly setting up a teakettle to boil water and grabbing three mugs. By the time Jean and Marco had finished with the rest of the groceries, they turned around to three mugs of steaming hot chocolate and an Armin that was trying his hardest to not let his smile be dampened by the thought of one missing.
The two taller boys gave each other a glance, agreeing on something silently before they each kissed one of Armin's cheeks in unison. The blonde grinned, letting them choose their own mugs before picking up the last one. It was a moment before he realized the cup he'd been left was one Eren had given him as a gift what seemed like an eternity ago. And then, all of a sudden, the hole in his heart opened again and tears streamed down Armin's face. Through the haze of tears he saw Jean's face darken with anger and Marco's with concern. The freckled boy looked between his boyfriends, placing a comforting hand on Armin's shoulder.
"Hey, what's the matter? Armin? ...Jean?"
Jean placed his mug of cocoa on the counter, wrapping Armin in a tight hug. Marco still frowned at the two, waiting patiently for an answer to his question. When it got down to it, Marco did know what was best in each situation, and now was not the time to rush things as Armin sobbed into his mug. After a moment Jean lifted his gaze, which was as angry as the winter storm clouds outside. He slipped into full French, another testament to just how angry he was, if the boy's scowl and protective posture around Armin weren't enough.
"Osti de Jaeger!! Il a dit Armin d'aller en enfer. Je ne pourrai jamais aimer son âne désolé pour aussi tant que je vivrai! Si jamais il change sa putain de tête ... Je ai besoin de beaucoup de convaincre de le laisser ne importe où près de mon Prince et mon Roi."
(That fucking Jaeger! He told Armin to go to hell. I will never love his sorry ass for as long as I live! If he ever changes his fucking mind... I'll need a lot of convincing to let him anywhere near my Prince and my King.)
Marco blanched with shock, his freckles even fading along with the rest of the color on his face. He was desperately glad for not the first time that Armin was still grasping the very basics of his second language. Despite the truth and conviction behind Jean's words, it would not do Armin any good right now to fully understand them. By the look on the small blonde's face, simply the vehemence with which Jean had twisted the name "Jaeger" around his mouth was enough to make matters worse. Marco gently moved in to hold the small boy close, whispering to Jean above the other's head in halting French.
"Ne le laissez pas vous entendre dire cela. Et pour l'amour de dieu, calmer. Se il vous plaît."
(Don't let him hear you say that. And for god's sakes, calm down. Please.)
Jean unwrapped his hands from around Armin, holding them up in a placating gesture, though he still visibly seethed under the surface. Armin switched his sobbing to Marco's shoulder as the boy gently rubbed his back, whispering soothing but ultimately pointless things into the top of his golden haired head. Jean sipped his hot chocolate moodily, extending a hand down to hold one of Armin's. Eventually the boy snuffled, wiping at his red-rimmed eyes.
"I j-just wish it didn't... didn't hurt so much. I still love him, I miss Eren so bad. N-not that I don't love both... both of you, too, but..."
Marco stroked Armin's hair, shushing him. He knew Armin must be feeling very insecure at the moment to bring up that old issue. The three had agreed a while ago that they understood the nature of their relationship, that there were no favorites. The love they felt for one another was similar, but different. The freckled boy repeated that sentiment, almost like a motto.
"Similar, but different. You don't have to explain it, Armin, least of all to us."
The blonde relaxed a little in Marco's grip, nodding as his mouth twisted around more tears. It would take a while, the raven thought, for Armin to get over this again. They both looked up as Jean gently pried the mug Armin still held out of his grasp. He was never good at giving comfort, not in words anyways. Marco was the one with that talent. So instead he put all three mugs of cocoa in the microwave, moving about the kitchen as he worked. It wasn't a spectacular meal, by any means, as the time to start cooking had long since passed for anything proper. But Jean made his signature grilled cheese, with tomato slices and Canadian Bacon, as Marco led a shaky Armin out to the living room to find a movie on Netflix. The three ate together and sipped their hot chocolate as they watched a stupid romance that gave Armin an excuse to cry. And when it seemed his tears had all dried up, he snuggled under the covers of their shared bed with his two amazing boyfriends and managed to drift to sleep, warm and safe in their embrace.