when it's dark in a cold decembre (but i've got you to keep me warm)
Jean Kirschtein. Mikasa Ackerman. Kiyomi Azumabito.
Holiday Visits. Awkward Family Dinners. Cuddles. Doggies.
4191 words.
(ao3.)
Vancouver is a change of pace. Having grown so used to winters in Montreal — or even his hometown of Trois-Rivieres — arriving at YVR to rain instead of snow leaves him confused.
At least Mikasa seems to find amusement in the poor Quebecer getting soaked in the drizzle.
A rapid transit line takes them from the airport to downtown, then an Uber driver takes them the rest of the way. As the vehicle crosses the Lionsgate Bridge, Jean’s eyes are affixed to the window and towards the rainy city outside.
At this time of night, all he can see is artificial lights — buildings with glass exteriors standing amidst the ocean and coniferous trees. It’s just enough to let him see the outline of the mountains. Above it all are clouds in a dark sky.
The car drives deeper into West Vancouver. The houses lining the roads are built with an emphasis on style and aesthetic, most of them looking to have been designed very recently with walls made of stone and glass.
Mikasa had told him that her Auntie was wealthy, and as the car passes by a house with more driveways and outdoor entertaining space to do with, the sentiment rings true.
Soon enough, the car arrives at the destination.
The house Mikasa grew up in differs from the gray homes adorning the streets. When Jean sees it, his eyes go to the vinyl siding and the rugged roof tiles, attributes that make the craftsman home feel like an island in the ocean of stone and glass houses.
Jean hoists his bags over his shoulder as the Uber driver takes off down the street. Mikasa walks from the street to the curb, comfortably taking her boyfriend’s hand as he looks at the house.
“You like?”
Jean nods, unable to take his eyes off the bulbs adorning the eaves. “I like the lights.”
“Auntie likes them, too.” She then squeezes his hand and begins guiding him towards the house.
Jean follows, keeping his eyes on the ground and watching her boots step into the puddles on the pathway. The rain is lighter here than it is at the airport, but it’s still enough for water droplets to collect in his hair.
The two climb up the steps and Jean mentally goes over the backstory Mikasa had given him regarding her aunt. Kiyomi had grown up alongside Mikasa’s mother in Tokyo, and despite being cousins they acted a lot more like sisters. They even moved to Vancouver together to study. They had kept in touch even when Makoto married a local man while Kiyomi moved back to Japan.
It was no surprise that Kiyomi was the one who stepped up after Mikasa’s parents passed, gladly taking the nine-year-old in and giving her shelter in a time where she had none. She even decided to move back to Canada permanently to be near her niece.
Despite coming from wealth, Kiyomi kept herself busy as a tenured professor at a local university. Giving lectures on international relations seemed to be her second priority on top of providing for Mikasa. Academia appeared to run in the Azumabito-Ackerman household.
As Jean keeps reciting the lore in his head, he turns to Mikasa and asks a last-minute question.
“So… is there anything else I should know?” His voice is just slightly tinged with his signature wit. “You know, before the point of no return?”
“Just be yourself,” Mikasa insists as her boots touch the top of the porch. “Besides, you both like sassing me and old school Celine Dion, in her mind you can do no wrong.”
Jean makes a noise that’s in between an awkward laugh and a nervous chuckle. “That’s one way to look at things…”
When the doorbell rings, what immediately follows is the sound of several dogs barking their heads off — one even sounds like a howl. Through the pane of glass in the door Jean can see two fluffy creatures with legs rushing to the door. After they yelp at the door for a few seconds, a person descends the stairs and gestures for said creatures to quiet down.
Unsurprisingly, the act of wagging one’s finger at two rambunctious dogs does nothing to quell their screams.
Nonetheless, the door opens and the pair of tired traveling grad students are greeted to the sight of Mikasa’s Aunt Kiyomi.
As to be expected, the older lady is smiling from ear to ear and immediately steps forward to embrace her niece. Mikasa herself gives a gentle grin as she hugs her Aunt back.
“Mikasa!”
“Auntie.”
Jean gives them their space as they reunite. In the space between the doorframe and the door, he gets a better look into the house, taking note of the wooden floors, the warm lighting, the spotless walls. The whole place is impeccably clean, even with the two dogs running around.
Speaking of which, Jean also gets an eyeful of the canines standing behind Kiyomi — one is a samoyed with the doofiest grin he’s ever seen on a dog, and the other is husky with an abundance of fluffy fur. The husky in particular is letting out dramatic weeping noises as it looks at the visitors at the door.
When aunt and niece separate, Kiyomi sets her eyes on Jean.
“And is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?” she asks. “Jean, right?”
Jean gives a nod and a polite smile. “That’s me.” He reaches out and shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Azumabito.”
Kiyomi is a head shorter than both Jean and Mikasa. Like her niece, her hair is dark, but she keeps it neatly combed and tied into a proper bun.
The only woman looks him up and down, seemingly content with finally meeting him in the flesh. She even seems flattered by his formality. “Please, call me Kiyomi. And come in, you two must be soaked.”
Jean and Mikasa enter the home, bringing their luggage with them. He’s only been in Vancouver for an hour and he’s already relieved to get out of the downpour.
As Jean shakes the water out of his hair, Mikasa kneels down to the two dogs of the Azumabito household. She beams sweetly at both the husky and the samoyed, both of which are excited to see her return. The husky in particular is wagging its tail so hard that its rear end is shaking.
Back at McGill, Mikasa had spoken at length about her dogs back at home. Back at their apartment, there’s a photo of both the husky and samoyed as puppies pinned to their refrigerator.
Seeing the dogs in the fluff is significantly more enjoyable than seeing them in photo form. The sweet look of heartfelt joy on Mikasa’s face is also a bonus.
“Yes, yes, I missed you, too,” says Mikasa as the husky kisses her cheek.
Kiyomi immediately proves to be a cordial host. She takes Jean’s jacket without being prompted, hanging it up on a nearby coat rack. She then reaches for the luggage and grabs the first two bags she can find.
“It’s been raining all week,” the older lady says. She takes a pair of backpacks to a nearby closet.
“Has it?” asks Mikasa.
There is an irked, gravelly tone to Kiyomi’s voice as she replies. “Unfortunately.”
Mikasa lets out a hum, which is her way of laughing. “That’s a Vancouver Christmas for you.”
Jean chuckles as he rubs his freezing hands together. Now free from the constraints of his parka, he kneels down to get to Mikasa’s level and looks at the pair of dogs.
“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you two,” he says, petting the head of the cheery samoyed. “So… which one’s which again?”
Mikasa gestures to the husky lovingly licking her cheek. “This one’s Mochi…” She then points to the white fluff ball. “...and this one’s Miso.”
Jean can’t help but chuckle, a throaty one that makes the corners of his mouth turn up.
Somehow, he’s getting the feeling that he’ll enjoy the holidays here.
…
…
…
Dinner is a simple affair, though Kiyomi uses it as an excuse to break out a bottle of red from the cellar. Christmas may be a few days away, but her beloved niece returning home is a good reason to celebrate. She serves dishes that Mikasa has had throughout her childhood, only occasionally having to scold the dogs for putting their paws on the table. Evidently, Mochi absolutely drools in the presence of Kiyomi’s katsudon.
And true to Mikasa’s words, Kiyomi is a fan of old-school Dion, as the singer’s Christmas album proceeds to play on the house stereo.
Jean sits at the table and listens to aunt and niece catching up, taking note of the way Mikasa’s eyes light up as she speaks. Sometimes they’ll slip into Japanese in the middle of the conversation, only exchanging a few brief sentences before returning to English. It happens so smoothly that Jean can tell it’s just one of those habits the two share.
And suddenly, he now knows how Mikasa feels when he switches into French with other francophones in front of her.
A part of him is hesitant to chime in, as the flow of the conversation feels so fast. He’s also worried that he might spoil the joy of the reunion.
So he spends the time petting Miso under the table while Mochi tries to steal some bites of okonomiyaki. At least the samoyed has begun taking a liking to him.
Mikasa recalls to her Aunt Kiyomi exactly how she and Jean met. The story involved a social gathering for McGill grad students, as well as alcohol and a karaoke machine. Sometimes Jean thinks about how different things would have been had Mikasa not spilled wine on his shirt at the start of the party — he would have probably spent the night drunk singing instead of watching her trying to fruitlessly clean his clothes in the bathroom.
Considering how many of his colleagues at the School of Architecture were attending the party, Mikasa had most likely saved his reputation before he even had one to destroy.
Mikasa is in the midst of explaining her thesis to Kiyomi, detailing how she made the choice to specialize in plant pathology. Recently, she’s been studying a virus that has only been affecting flowers that thrive in cold weather.
Jean loves it when she gets like this, so wrapped up in explaining her work that she’s talking more than she usually does. Truth be told, he can’t comprehend enough botanical science to truly understand what she’s talking about, but the fact that she can talk about trees and flowers like an artist talks about the Sistine Chapel is enough for him. Seeing the way she lights up as she talks about what she’s dedicating her life to is all he’ll ever need.
Plus, Mikasa always seems tuned in when he goes on and on about architecture mumbo jumbo, even the stuff that he knows for a fact will bore people to tears. (“No one cares about the history of the pillar,” Sasha’s voice echoes in his head.) The least he can do is be an attentive boyfriend.
“It’s nice to know that all those years away from home have done you good,” Kiyomi says, pouring herself a little more wine.
“It has,” Mikasa assures. She then looks down and sees Mochi resting his chin on her lap with a loving look in his eyes.“But I can never stay away for too long…”
Kiyomi looks amused. “Have you ever considered getting a dog?”
“We have,” Jean finally speaks up. It’s telling of him that the one topic he’s more comfortable chining in on is pets. “But it’d be a hassle while we’re both still in school.”
Nonetheless, Kiyomi looks interested and listens intently.
“We did dogsit for our friend Historia once — she’s got a terrier mix, we watched it for about a week,” Jean continues, then lets out a chuckle. “The poor guy would weep every time we crated him for the night, wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the bed with us.”
Mikasa lets out a polite hum, reliving the memories of the two stressed grad students trying to curb a terrier’s energy inside their apartment. At least the little one was calm once he was allowed to sleep in the realm of the humans.
“And our bedroom still has some of Donut’s dog hair in it,” Mikasa adds.
Kiyomi spends a moment politely laughing along.
“Oh, speaking of which,” the older lady starts, eyeing the man currently petting the samoyed under the table. “Jean, I prepared the guest bedroom for you.”
It does not take long for both Jean and Mikasa to understand the implications. Jean is suddenly plunged into a mix of embarrassment and confusion, a sensation that makes him pick up the fidgety mannerisms of a twelve-year-old boy.
“Ah… thank you?” is all he can muster. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck.
Meanwhile, Mikasa’s sweet smile disappears from her pretty face and in its place is a glare directed at the hostess.
“Auntie, I was under the impression that my room would be available for us,” she asks in a tone that’s the slightest bit stilted, perhaps to cover up her clear agitation.
“Oh, certainly, Dear, it’s available for you,” Kiyomi explains simply. The way she says ‘dear’ is both motherly and condescending. “I’ve cleaned it and everything.”
Mikasa starts to look more and more frustrated with every passing second. “I meant for both of us.”
“Not in my house.” Kiyomi then reaches for the bottle in the middle of the table like nothing is wrong. “More wine, anyone?”
Then just like before, Mikasa and Kiyomi slip into a tongue that’s foreign to Jean's ears. This time, instead of speaking Japanese for a sentence or two, the two engage into what can respectfully be referred to as a “passive aggressive debate.”
Jean hasn’t learned enough Japanese to discern exactly what the two are saying, but the subject matter is enough to bring a blush to his cheeks. He didn’t anticipate that the concept of he and Mikasa sharing a room — despite sharing so much more back in their apartment in Montreal — would be such a hot topic in the Azumabito household. Apparently, Kiyomi had put a lot of thought into making sure that her niece and her niece’s boyfriend didn’t get too close.
Mikasa’s tone is composed, focused, the one she uses when she has to babysit freshmen undergrads all day. Yet it is laced with just enough persistence to prove that she’s not backing down without a fight. On the other hand, Kiyomi remains placid as she explains her point, continuing to act like there’s nothing wrong with her silly little rule.
Suddenly, Jean’s wondering why he passed up on his mother’s offer to spend the holidays with her in Montpellier.
To quell the uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach, Jean begins petting another dog — Mochi this time — and reaches for the bottle of red.
“Some wine sounds nice, actually.”
…
…
…
Once dinner and the debate is over, the two jet-lagged grad students decide to retire for the night. It’s only 9 o’clock but it feels so much later than that.
The outcome of the conversation has caused Jean to unpack his luggage in the basement guest room, whereas Mikasa is forced to do the same on the top floor.
The last time Mikasa had stayed in her childhood bedroom, she was taking a break before heading onto grad school. She can remember the months she spent preparing to move across the country for a second time — the tables she waited to earn extra cash, the lessons she spent with a tutor to get a better grasp on French. Montreal was going to be a whole new beast compared to Toronto — where she had completed her undergrad — and every reminder of that was a sign that she needed to prepare.
That era of her life was roughly two years ago, yet Mikasa feels like it’s a millenia away.
Despite Kiyomi’s rule regarding her niece and her niece’s significant other, at least the bedroom is clean and cozy. Although the pictures and art on the wall have been removed, the sheets are clean and the blankets are soft, more than enough to help Mikasa survive the night.
So alone in her room, Mikasa lies on a bed and reads a book, her usual habit whenever she needs to fall asleep. With the sound of rain hitting the roof and the two dogs napping at the foot of her bed, she almost feels like she’s in high school again, preferring to spend hours in her room just snuggling with Mochi and Miso.
As Mikasa turns the page, she hears a light knock. Mochi immediately lifts his head from the cushions and watches the door open. Jean peaks in with a playful, almost boyish look on his face, knowing well that what he’s doing is a little mischievous.
He steps into the room calmly, having changed from his traveling clothes to something a lot more comfortable. He’s wearing a pair of pyjama pants that Mikasa bought for him on a whim, as well as a flannel shirt that he’s buttoned sparingly. His hair is damp from a shower, ashy brown locks draping messily over his face. The stubble on his jawline and chin looks a bit thicker, more like a short beard.
Knowing Jean, Mikasa wonders if he’s trying to entice her, as he knows exactly what she thinks when she sees him looking so disheveled.
“What are you reading?” he asks, stepping barefoot into her room. He sits on the edge of her bed and starts petting Miso, who predictably reacts with a doofy grin.
Mikasa looks away from her book. “One of Sasha’s romance novels — she lent it to me.”
Jean catches sight of the muscular man on the cover and raises an eyebrow. “Sasha reads romance?”
“When she can,” Mikasa answers. “Vet school’s been taking up a lot of her time.”
There is a beat — Mikasa continues reading and Jean continues petting the dog on the bed. He then notices something that brings a smile to his face.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
Mikasa is nonplussed as she turns a page. “I know.”
Nowadays, Jean’s green button-front shirt finds itself in Mikasa’s care more often than his. He doesn’t seem to mind though.
Mikasa changes the subject with ease. She looks up and affixes her gaze to his. “How’s the guest room? Cozy?”
“It is.” He nods his head, then his voice goes warm. “Not as cozy as this though.”
Mikasa is quick to close her book and give him a knowing look. “Don’t get any ideas. I wouldn’t want Kiyomi to toss you onto the street.”
Jean puts his hands up in mock defeat. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want that either.”
Putting her novel away, she straightens her back and sits up. “I’m sorry you had to see the argument.”
“It’s fine,” Jean shrugs. At least he’s good at taking things in stride. “What’s the holidays without some family bickering, huh?”
Mikasa lets out a sigh and looks down. “Unfortunately.”
In hindsight, attempting to argue with Kiyomi in Japanese was somewhat pointless, as Jean most likely knew that they were talking about thanks to their mannerisms. Some things in the world are just made to transcend language barriers.
“But hey, I don’t wanna rock the boat.” He’s trying to keep a positive undertone to his voice. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”
He moves on the bed a bit to sit next to her, gently cupping her face with his hand and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Mikasa closes her eyes and lets the gesture send a warm sensation throughout her entire body. The unease she had dealt with at dinner starts to fade away.
With his palms still touching her cheeks, Jean presses a kiss to her lips. It’s gentle, sweet, and makes her want him to stay.
She puts her hands on his as they remain on her face, gently deepening their kiss as her forehead brushes against his. He’s warm, so warm.
Mikasa’s hands trail down to Jean’s shoulders, then to his chest — her thumbs start hooking into the hems of his shirt.
But before anything more can happen, Jean pulls away. She can see the flustered look on his face as his breathing goes unsteady.
“I should go,” he insists, quickly buttoning up his shirt.
Sensing the urgency Mikasa nods along. She then remembers that Kiyomi is still awake and currently relaxing one floor beneath them.
Also, if they are to engage in any intimacy during the stay, she would rather do it without the dogs in the room.
Jean takes her hand and kisses it, a last gesture before he leaves.
“See you in the morning, mon amour.”
And when everything said is done, he leaves. Standing from the bed, he gives the dogs some last pets before walking out of the bedroom. He makes sure to give Mikasa one last assuring look before he is truly gone.
Once the door is closed, Mikasa takes in a breath and rubs her face. Her palms are sweating. When she opens her eyes she is greeted to the sight of Mochi and Miso staring at her with their unblinking gazes.
Her first instinct is to glare back. “Don’t judge me, I’ve seen you two dig up a hornet’s nest.”
…
…
…
It’s 5AM when Mikasa wakes. The room is warm and so is the bed, yet when she reaches to the other side to only feel nothing it might as well be cold as ice.
After opening her eyes, she spends a few moments staring at the ceiling and thinking about how tired she is. She may be on vacation, but parts of her are still in grad student mode. Her body has yet to comprehend that she’s not going to spend the day TAing or going over research notes.
When Mikasa gets up, she notices that the dogs are no longer sleeping at the foot of her bed. With the bedroom door ajar, she surmises that Mochi and Miso have transitioned to sleeping in Kiyomi’s bed, as per usual.
Being jet-lagged, Mikasa feels awake, but the kind of awake where one can either function for the day or go for a few more hours of slumber. She contemplates going for an early morning run to ease her nerves, then looks to the window to find that last night’s downpour has intensified.
Vancouver is always rainy, but the kind of rain that makes it impossible to go outside feels truly constricting.
Then an idea pops into Mikasa’s head, one attached to consequences but possible enough to pull off. She has to be careful though, so as quietly as she can she slips out of bed and steps onto the floor.
The carpets dampen the noise of her footfalls as she makes her way through the hallway. When she sees Kiyomi’s bedroom door slightly ajar, she takes in the sight of her Auntie sleeping in between the world’s fluffiest dogs. Smartly, she makes sure to close the door.
Mikasa descends the stairs to the first floor, moving past the furniture and framed photographs before approaching the basement entrance. The lower portion of the house is as cozy as the rest and when she arrives at the bedroom at the end of the hall she slips in without any hesitation. She makes sure to lock the door behind her.
The guest room is warm, Jean’s belongings are scattered about. On a nearby chair is the shirt he had been wearing in her room and on the desk is one of his sketchbooks — he’s quite fond of traveling with at least one. The open page is filled with doodles of Mochi and Miso.
Jean is fast asleep on the bed, bare-chested and breathing gently. His eyes are closed and his hair is strewn in every direction.
Mikasa doesn’t waste any more time. She slips under the sheets, her body easily finding his, and begins peppering kisses against his shoulder.
With the sweetest touch, she trails her lips up his neck and onto his jaw. His stubble is soft and tickles her face. He lets out a hum, as he’s used to being woken up like this. His eyes are still closed as he shifts slightly, letting Mikasa easily pry herself under his arm. Soon she rests her head on his chest, where she always likes to be. He’s warm, warmer than her room upstairs.
With all his strength, Jean manages to open his eyes just enough to see his girlfriend snuggling against him. The room is dark, but she can still see the sleepy smile on his beautiful face.
“Couldn’t stay away?”
“Not a bit.”
Mikasa relaxes into him, letting his heartbeat become a gentle lullaby. In the sheets his hand finds hers and holds it tight, one of her legs hooking around his. She is content to drift off to sleep just like this.
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