Winter was always Armin's favorite time of the year. He was never familiar with the cold weather, but being introduced to it set a new fire in his veins. The air would be crisp, glistening flakes would fall, effectively covering the ground in a sheet of white, and it would be the perfect excuse to wear his favorite scarf. It was green, looking so inviting in warm in the store window months ago. Wings were sewn on the ends, reminding Armin of a distant memory of a war that seemed to have happened so long ago that the books from today wouldn't have history that far back. He didn't let the thought bother him, however. Instead he carried his train of thought to the beautiful frost patterns that adorned his closed dorm window. His eyes were half lidded, tired, chair tilted back as his heels dug into the carpet floor to keep him moderately upright. His pencil was hooked in the curtain, pulling it back so he could scan the ice, then the endless white that seemed to trail after it. Snow covered all the trees, buildings, and grass. He found amusment in the couple that stumbled over the massive inches of snow, hand in hand, flicking specks of snow at each other's noses. The scene looked so natural to Armin, blond eyelashes fluttering as he heard the door open.

He turned his head to face Jean, disheveled and cheeks flushed. In each arm he had bags, no doubt filled with ingredients and food items to get them both through the month. He vanished into their little kitchenette, no doubt his attention being to stash away the food he had only know gotten. Armin's suspicions were confirmed by gentle rustling and he suddenly got lost in the sound of the fridge door opening and closing time and time again, knowing Jean was home. The papers in front of him- Homework, right.- No longer held his interest as he neatly pushed each page into a delicate stack. It was then Jean joined him in the living room, still wrapped in a thick tan coat Armin had gotten him for his birthday last year. The fur rimming the hood was nestled against Jean's reddening cheeks, and he addressed the other male almost carefully,

"Armin."

The blond smiled gently, warm enough to coax Jean forward. His steps were clumsy, something Armin admired as his gaze dropped to his snow covered boots. He laughed, light and playful. Jean stopped in front of him, bent down to lightly touch his Armin's lips with his own cold, frost-bitten ones. It was sweet and short, yet enough to make a chill roll unexpectedly down Armin's spine and he hummed, earned a warm sigh from Jean.

"Welcome home," He said, hands reached up to cup his cheeks as he whispered against his lips. Just like that, the winter chill was gone and they both got lost in each other's warmth. The both got up to settle on the couch, switching on some old christmas movie and lacing fingers as they exchanged their more smaller gifts. Despite his excitment, Armin caught on with the unusual gruffness that laced Jean's tone. Late hay fever he assumed lightly, pressing his lips to Jean's over and over again in attempt to warm him from his journey in the snow. Somehow they ended up in tangles limbs, Armin placed gently over Jean's chest as two pairs of tired eyes lingered on the television screen.

"We didn't even get drunk," Jean commented offhandedly, sounding disappointed. This caused Armin to roll his eyes, chilled fingers curling in the front of sweater he had thrown over Jean's head and claimed he knitted it himself.

"Do you think you're responsible enough to get drunk?"

"No."

"Thought so."

A stiff pause from Jean.

"Hey, Armin?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."