Author's Note: Chapter 7 is finally upon us! Again, I am so sorry for the delay, but thank you to all of the reviews and faves! I appreciate them all! One question - I was thinking about moving all of my stuff onto AO3. Any thoughts on this?

As always, you can find me on tumblr as dates-at-the-zoo!

Please enjoy!

"Armin?" The blond groans loudly, shifting in his sleep, and Jean laughs softly to himself. Somewhere in the distance, the morning bells are ringing and their shrill song is enough to give him a headache. It's enough to wake up at the crack of dawn without the extra racket, he thinks as he nudges Armin. They've been late for the past week and if they get another tally, it'll be extra clean up duty for the next month. "Armin, wake up."

"S'too early, Jean," he whimpers, scrunching up his eyes as he burrows further into the rough blankets, curling himself up into a ball. "Go 'way."

"Come on, it's time for breakfast. Aren't you hungry?" Jean coos, pulling back the covers and pressing light kisses against his face. The sun has barely peeked over the horizon, sneaking its way in through a crack in the curtains. "Marco said there might be pancakes today."

"Pancakes?" Armin slowly opens one eye, hopeful, and Jean laughs, working a hand into his hair, dragging him up for a slow, languid kiss. There's still time for a little cuddling before they're called down and Armin makes soft, sleepy noises as he closes his eyes, eyelashes brushing against Jean's skin. He crawls onto the bed, admiring the way Armin's body fits perfectly against his, breaking off the kiss gently.

"Now that's better, isn't it?" He murmurs, smiling against Armin's lips, and then someone's calling his name, shaking his shoulder insistently, and he opens his eyes. It's barely light out and Jean can just make out the fuzzy shape before him before Armin plops himself firmly on top of him, yelling excitedly.

"Wake up! It's time for breakfast!"

"Armin? What?" He's still groggy, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to get up. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, maybe 6 or 7?" Armin is way too chipper for this early in the morning and when he leans close, Jean can smell coffee beans and something sweet as Armin kisses his cheeks sloppily. "Marco and Reiner are making pancakes downstairs! There's coffee too. Hurry, before they eat it all!"

"Assholes," he mutters fondly as he allows himself to be pulled out of his sleeping bag. "I just had the weirdest dream. I dreamt I was waking you up, maybe we were in some weird military cabin, and then..."

Armin just laughs, tangling their fingers together as he makes a beeline for the kitchen, and Jean gags when he spies the figure seated by Bertholdt, wolfing down food like a starving man. They exchange sharp glares as way of greeting and Armin rolls his eyes, stealing a piece of bacon off of his plate, chewing it noisily. "Hey Eren. When'd you get here? And oh, that's good. Reiner's surprisingly a good cook."

"What do you mean surprisingly?! I'm a great cook. Tell them, Bert! Tell them!"

"H-He's a great cook," Bertholdt stammers, quickly returning to his breakfast as soon as the words leave his mouth, ignoring the group pointedly. Reiner just grins widely, slapping him on the back affectionately.

x

The day's plans include a hike before lunch, followed by another hike and maybe some snowmen making, and then another hike. Jean stares at the paper with a critical eye. "Three hikes?!"

"Don't be a wuss," Marco laughs as Armin links arms with him, brandishing a trail map like a pirate's sword. "Being active is part of a healthy lifestyle."

"A healthy lifestyle is one I don't want or need," Jean moans as he grabs his boyfriend back, nuzzling his neck sadly. "Armin, Armin baby, do you think I'm fat? Do I need to exercise more?"

"Well, exercise is good for you! Come on, it's beautiful outside! Marco and I took a look around this morning while you were still sleeping," Armin shrugs, pulling Jean and an equally reluctant Eren to the hallway where he proceeds to stuff hats and gloves on them. "Now, bundle up! It's cold. Like, really cold."

The cold hits him like a sledgehammer when he steps out the door and he buries his face into his scarf, inhaling its musty scent deeply as he shivers. Marco and Armin push past him with more vigor than any sane person should have this early in the morning, whooping loudly as they throw armfuls of snow in the air. He trudges toward them slowly, reluctant to leave the cabin and its warmth behind. Armin yells at him to hurry up and he stumbles forward, knocking his head against Armin's. "Keep me warm."

x

The great outdoors are decidedly not so great after a few hours in the biting cold and for once, Jean and Eren are in agreement that they should head back to the cabin. Spending the rest of the day in front of the fireplace with a mug or two of steaming hot cocoa sounds better than a million dollars at the moment, and Jean tugs at Armin's sleeve insistently, whining.

"My balls are freezing off," Eren moans, shivering dramatically and Armin rolls his eyes, exchanging a look with Marco. He mouths the word 'wimps' and Marco laughs. Jean pretends not to notice; he's not going to start an argument if they can go back.

"Well, I guess we could head back for lunch," Marco shrugs, starting the descent and he's never looked more like an angel before.

x

Jean pulls Armin aside as they're cleaning up after the meal, beckoning him outside onto the porch. "What's up?" Armin asks, burying his face in his scarf and inserting one of his hands into Jean's pocket, winding their fingers together. Jean looks at him, inhales deeply, and squeezes his hand. "Jean?"

"Hey, uh, I was just wondering..."

"Yes?"

"Do you want to come over for Christmas? I mean like, meet the parents and everything. I want to introduce you to my family. And stuff."

Armin's quiet for a moment and Jean's afraid he's said the wrong thing, but then Armin nods, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great," Jean breathes, pulling him in for a hug. "Great. We can drive up or take a train, and I'll let my mom know so she'll get ready. We can stay in my room. My bed's big enough for two, or at least, it should be, and my parents are just going to love you." He's rambling, he knows he is, but he can't stop himself and Armin doesn't seem to mind, laughing as he kisses his chin affectionately. "Is there anything in particular you want to eat? My mom's an amazing cook."

"Anything is good," Armin murmurs, smiling. "Whatever you like."

x

The next morning, Jean is surprised to wake up on his own. As he sits up, he notes that the room is empty and the faint sounds of breakfast being made drifts up from downstairs. He's a little miffed that Armin didn't wake him, but as he slings his legs over the side of the bunk, a loud groan startles him and he looks over to find that one bed is in fact still occupied.

"I hate winter," Armin sniffs miserably, burrowing into a pile of blankets and sleeping bags, and Jean chuckles fondly as he makes his way over. "I hate the snow. I hate the outdoors. I have everything."

"You should have gone in once you were cold. You and Marco went crazy yesterday."

"I wanted to watch the sunset," he wails, rolling into a ball and screwing up his face. "It didn't seem that cold at the time. I thought I'd be okay after a good night's sleep."

Jean just sighs, pulling the covers more securely around shivering shoulders, resting his hand against Armin's forehead. He's burning up, probably a combination of the thousand and one hikes they'd taken yesterday and the snow angels they'd run out to make after dinner. "Try and rest up, alright? You want any anything to eat?"

"No." Armin whimpers before breaking out into a series of hacking coughs, body shaking violently, and Jean hands him a box of tissues. "Ugh, just kill me now. I feel terrible."

"You'll get better soon, alright? Now sleep. You don't want to miss out on Thanksgiving turkey, right? I'm going to make you some tea. I'll bring it up to you." Jean leans down to brush his lips across Armin's cheek despite his weak protest, and gets up. Behind him, Armin murmurs a soft thank you, and an even softer I love you.

Jean's heart is racing by the time he makes it into the kitchen and his cheeks are slightly flushed. He ignores Marco's concerned look as he pours hot water into a chipped mug and adds a tea bag, mind still elsewhere. He loves me, he thinks, grinning to himself. He loves me.