#candycity writes

[candycityy]

—shoutout to @avadescent for inspiring me to write offended-attention-deprived levi. because why not right? right.

Levi isn't an unreasonable man.

Rude, sure. Neurotic, well, maybe. He's aware of his flaws, thanks, but as far as he's concerned, unreasonable has never been one of those.

And yet—looking down at the hopeful expression of his subordinate, he feels the irrepressible urge to say something wholly unreasonable. Something like no.

"It'd be a really good opportunity," Petra says, as usual catching on to his thoughts far too quickly for his comfort. "The Military Police has never showed any interest in us before, this could be a real chance to rally some support—"

"Some extra coin, you mean," Levi interjects drily. Far too used to her captain's cynicism, Petra presses on, unperturbed.

"Besides," she adds, "it's just for a week. And the commander—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Levi waves an irritated hand. "The Military Police is in town, they finally manage to get over their massive fucking egos long enough to realise how shit their fatality rates are against actual titans, as opposed to the scum—"

"Captain."

"Criminals," Levi amends, "that they waste their time chasing after, most of the time. And now they want a tour guide to show them around. Fine. But why you?"

Petra levels a glare at him—the only one of his soldiers who'd have the guts to do so—and he feels a stab of grudging respect. "Are you insinuating that I'm not qualified, sir?"

"Just asking why."

"In that case, sir, I'd wager that the commander," she enunciates the world pointedly, "nominated me because I'm nice and friendly and have the second-highest kill count in the Corps. And unfortunately, the soldier with the actual highest kill count has approximately the charm and charisma of a dead slug."

He narrows his eyes at the soldier, who immediately schools her expression back into one of wide-eyed innocence. "You're an insubordinate brat, Ral."

"I'm saving you from having to deal with the MP yourself, sir," Petra says patiently. "You know that if you don't give me permission, Commander Smith is going to go after you next."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, locked in stalemate. Finally, Levi sighs.

"Fine," he mutters. "You can be their tour guide, as long as you keep up with your training in your own time. And, Ral?"

"Sir?"

"For fuck's sake don't be too nice to them."

Petra's answering grin is wry and knowing, even as she lifts her fist to her chest in a flawless salute. "I'll try, sir."

==

The lounge is unnaturally quiet.

Apart from the sound of his pen scratching onto the seemingly endless pages, and the occasional murmured curse from Auruo whenever Gunther takes yet another one of his pawns, there's a strange, heavy silence permeating the ordinarily cheery room.

In his corner, where he's aimlessly folding bits of newspaper into a series of increasingly complicated figures, Eld exhales loudly. "I miss Pet," he declares, morosely tossing a miniature bird into the trash can across the room and missing by a clear metre.

At Levi's glare, he goes to collect it quickly enough.

Auruo snorts in a show of derision. "What for? The peace and quiet's a nice change." He steals a quick, hopeful glance at Levi, who obligingly pretends not to notice.

Privately, Levi agrees with Eld. The squad has been unusually quiet without its sole female member, and he's on more than one occasion during training found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Petra's lithe form at his back, ready to sweep in for an assist.

And. even though he'd sooner stab himself with a blade than admit it, the tea he's been forced to make in her absence—as careful as he's been with his technique—just isn't the same. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose with annoyance.

"It's only been two days," Gunther says absently, ignoring Auruo's sound of protest as he neatly plucks a knight off the chessboard. "And she seems to be enjoying it."

"Is she?" Levi goes. He flicks off a stray bug with the tip of his pen, and savagely crosses out a misspelling.

"Yeah. An old friend from the Cadet Corps is in the lot that came in with the MP, she mentioned she'd been catching up with him."

"An old boyfriend, more like." Auruo hisses in exasperation when Gunther swipes yet another piece. "Michael, right? I remember him. Smug little slimeball, he was."

Levi stiffens. "She didn't mention that," he says, as casually as he can. Gunther shoots him a curious glance, which he ignores.

"Yeah, well, why would she?" Eld yawns and gets to his feet, stretching. "This blows. I'm gonna get some sleep. Later."

Levi sips at his tea, feeling violently and inexplicably irritated despite the would-be comfort of the familiar brew. The feeling doesn't fade, not even when the chess game ends with Gunther's resounding victory and both men traipse out of the room, leaving him alone in the quiet.

He dots an i with more severity than strictly necessary and decides to call it a night, too.

==

Petra continues to spend the better part of the next week flitting off to attend to their unwanted guests. With every activity that she doesn't turn up at, Levi finds his mood turning a shade fouler. Training isn't as productive. The whole squad is off their game.

Also, he misses her.

That evening, the lounge is empty. The rest of the squad has gone off to town for a much-needed drink, leaving Levi alone behind to tackle yet another stack of paperwork.

He's worked himself into a monotonous rhythm when the door swings open and Petra steps in, looking exhausted but content. Against his will, Levi feels his mood lift a fraction, although he keeps his scowl firmly in place.

"Captain," Petra greets with her usual smile, flopping down on her favourite spot at the sofa, "where's everyone?"

"Town," Levi replies shortly.

"Oh?" Her smile turns into a yawn, and he notes with an odd feeling the shadows under her eyes. "I need a drink, too. The MP visitors have been a handful. Did you know that most of them have barely touched their 3DMG after graduating? They're so rusty, they make Hanji's gear look positively shiny."

Levi has to stop himself from snickering; the squad leader is notorious for failing to maintain her gear, much to her second-in-command's constant despair. He has to force his expression to remain icy. Petra looks at him curiously.

"Anything the matter, captain?" she goes. He shrugs.

"Not really."

"That's not the same as no," Petra observes. Levi casts her a dark glare.

"Insubordinate," he mutters. "Just...hasn't been the best week."

"Because of me?"

Levi stares down at his paperwork.

"Maybe," he finally replies. Still refusing to meet her gaze, he asks, casually, "So, did anything exciting happen?"

He's still not looking at her, but he can hear the frown in her voice as she shakes her head. "Not really."

"That's not the same as no," Levi echoes. His subordinate rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"One of my old squadmates, back in the cadet corps, was being annoying throughout," she admits. Levi tries to keep his expression composed, even as something in his chest seems to lift, for whatever reason.

She clears her throat, seemingly eager to move on to the next topic. "Apart from that, the most exciting thing was probably seeing the captain of the MP almost lose his lunch after we showed him Hanji's lab."

Levi finally allows himself to snort. "Shitheads."

"Shitheads," Petra agrees. Her lips quirk into a tentative smile. "I missed the squad, though."

It's phrased like a sentence but sounds more like a question.

He makes the mistake of looking at her. Her cheeks are red, and there's a light in her eyes that seems nervous, almost shy. Yet she meets his gaze with a kind of determination. Questioning. Hopeful.

It's an unusual look for the girl who cuts down titans without batting an eyelid. Something in the back of mind tells him that her words are layered, but he forces himself to focus on the outside.

"The squad wasn't the same without you," Levi finally replies. It's not nearly enough, even he knows that.

Still, it's sufficient to make her whole countenance brighten and her smile shift into something different, whole. He realises belatedly that the dark, irritated cloud that has persisted in the back of his mind for the past week has dissipated almost entirely.

He shoves away the realisation quickly. Petra just smiles at him, seeming to know his thoughts before he can even begin to wonder at them. As usual.

"It's good to be back, captain," she says softly.

"Good to have you back, Ral."

[candycityy]

51. "I'm your husband. It's my job."

<3

Based on @levetras' super old headcanon.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

It's only when Levi strides into the med bay for the third time that week, looking none worse for the wear despite his self-proclaimed "flesh wound", when she finally catches on.

In her defence. The captain has always never been the type to admit to weakness of any kind, injury and sickness being no exception. So when he'd limped into the med bay earlier that week, claiming that he'd fallen off his horse, she'd actually been concerned. And when she'd failed to find any real injury on his person, she'd chalked it up to her own ineptness as a medic; after all, her medical experience extends only to the six months of training she'd gotten at the local medical school before joining the Survey Corps as a teenager.

She'd eventually discharged him, with only the slightest hint of suspicion emerging when the doctor had pronounced him in the pink of health, and he'd left without protest. The suspicion had grown slightly two days later, when he'd come in complaining of a stomachache, but point-blank refused to take any medicine.

"I just need to rest here for a bit," he'd insisted, and spent the rest of the day interrogating her about her pregnancy symptoms and honest-to-goodness taking down notes, quite as diligently as though he were in the middle of an inter-regimental strategy meeting. In fact, maybe more.

"Again?" she asks shrewdly, as her husband flops unconcernedly into his usual bed. "A flesh wound, really, Levi?"

To his credit, he looks at least a little bit abashed when he pulls up his pant leg, revealing nothing more or less than...a grazed knee.

It's so shallow, a toddler could probably walk it off.

"It might be infected," he tries, when Petra just stares at him in speechless incredulity.

"Infected." Her tone is flat and affectless, and she momentarily wonders if she's been spending too much with him.

He shrugs candidly. "You never know. Anyway, I'll be back in action tomorrow. Eld's taking over the cadet training today, no harm done." He swings his supposedly injured leg back over the edge of his bed with an easy grace, cracks open his notebook, and looks at her, suddenly alert. "So. How are you feeling today?"

Honestly. "Who's the medic here?" she demands, swabbing at his not-particularly-injured knee with a kind of aggressive impatience. He doesn't even flinch at the sting of alcohol, just flips through the notebook and mutters something under his breath.

It sounds, suspiciously, like "mood swings". Petra's temper flares.

"You don't have to babysit me, you know," she says, sweeping to her feet imperiously. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I'm pregnant, not an invalid, and I'm not even in the field. The cadets that you ditched today—"

"I didn't ditch anyone, I was injured in the line of duty."

"Ditched," she repeats with a ringing finality, "they're most definitely more in danger than I am."

"You never know," he drawls, "the ceiling might cave in on the med bay...there might be an epidemic. Hanji was just predicting one last week, something about bat-borne viruses..."

She pretends not to hear him.

"So, as your doctor," she says, signing off on his medical excuse form with more force than strictly necessary, "I declare you medically fit. Now get off your ass and back—into—the field." She punctuates each word by prodding him, hard, in the forearm, with her index finger.

He catches her hand mid-prod, ignoring her irritated exhale, his thumb brushing the silver ring that sits at her fourth knuckle. When he looks at her, his eyes are uncharacteristically soft, and she feels the indignation drain out of her, despite her best efforts.

Damn this man. She unsuccessfully tries to pull her hand out of his grip—to be fair, she doesn't try very hard—and eventually settles by muttering grumpily, "I can take care of myself. I don't nees to be protected, like some sort of china doll."

"You don't," he agreed. "But I'm your husband. It's my job."

Even after a year of marriage, Levi's words still occasionally have the power to strike her dumb. This is one of those times. She counts to ten in her head, and then leans over to gently rest her forehead against his, their hands still interlaced.

"I know," she murmurs. "And believe me, I'll keep you posted, okay? If I even feel the slightest hint that anything might be wrong. I promise I'll tell you, even if I have to strap 3DMG onto the doctor myself and send him running into the middle of a drill." Her lame attempt at humour is rewarded with a snort and a reluctant quirk of his lips, and she feels a small, pleased thrill.

"Fine. I'll stop ditching." He sighs; his breath is warm on her face. "But you better keep your promise, you brat."

"I will." She smiles at him, sweet as honey. "Now, get your malingering ass back to training before I tell the commander."

Drabble challenge!

[candycityy]

rumour mill (special ops ft. 104th crack with a dollop of rivetra because it's the weekend, why the hell not)

Friendship is a confusing thing.

As such, despite Hanji Zoë's sheer oddness—Levi really doesn't know any other way to put it—he counts her as one of his very, very few friends. At least, inside his head.

It's a friendship that most people don't understand, him least of all. But for what they lack in the conventional features of friendship—things in common, trips to town, et cetera—they make up in one particularly powerful phenomenon: gossip.

"Kirschtein tried to send Ackerman a love letter today," Levi reports, the second they sit down at the officers' table. As expected, Hanji's jaw drops in quite a gratifying manner.

"No," she breathes. "How'd you know?"

The captain allows himself the faintest hint of a smirk. "I caught him hovering outside the women's barracks. Apparently there's some sort of holiday coming up—"

"St. Valentine's Day." The mad scientist nods wisely. "I'm familiar."

"Whatever," Levi snaps. "Anyway, he was just waiting outside there for the longest time, like a creep, clutching an envelope in his hands."

"For how long?"

"Ten minutes. I counted." Hanji lets out a muffled scream of laughter, which garners them a very pointed look from Erwin. Levi glares at her.

She shuts up.

"So, then, I finally go up to him and ask him what the fuck he's up to, and the brat looks like he's about to shit himself." He rolls his eyes. "It took some...persuasion...but he ended up confessing that he was trying to pass something to Ackerman."

"How'd you know it was a love letter, though? It could've been something lame, like a report," Hanji points out. He rolls his eyes.

"Four-Eyes, the envelope was scented. But that's not all."

"No!" Hanji repeats, looking like she's on the verge of passing out with excitement. "Then what happened? Did he end up passing it to her?"

"I was just about to send him off, but then guess who walks right out of the door." A wicked gleam flashes in his eyes. "Jaeger."

"He didn't!"

"He did. And then of course the shitty brat demands to know what he's doing there, and Kirschtein gets all defensive asking what he's doing there, and then Jaeger grabs the letter and reads it and I swear, he yells so loudly I was afraid he was gonna go all titan-mode on Kirschtein's ass."

"And I don't suppose the poor guy stood there and let him read it?"

Levi snorts. "Of course not. Kirschtein ended up in the med bay and Jaeger lost another tooth, but whatever, it's probably grown back already. But look." He nods discreetly at the recruits' table, where the two boys are resolutely glaring off in opposite directions, while Mikasa sits in between, obliviously tucking into her potato stew. "I guess they haven't made up yet, the brats."

"Poor things. Love is hard," Hanji says. She sounds almost sympathetic, and perhaps he'd believe she was, if not for the almost maniacally wide grin on her face.

Levi just sips at his tea and smirks.

==

The new members of the Survey Corps stares at the officers' table, where Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hanji appear be deep in conversation. As they watch, the brunette lets out a peal of laughter, and the ordinarily impassive captain's lips quirk into something that is almost a smile.

There's a collective intake of breath. "You see?" Connie whispers heatedly. "The captain smiled. I told you they had something going on."

"I think it's adorable," Krista goes dreamily. Ymir snorts.

"That's rubbish," she declares. "I don't think Captain Levi is capable of like, a relationship. He's too busy being a scary, frigid bastard."

"Keep your voice down," Eren implores, his eyes darting to the table. "And the captain's actually really nice—he's just, uh, got a strange way of showing it."

"Whatever, Jaeger, we all know you have some sort of hero-worship crush on the captain anyway—"

"I do not!"

"As if Eren would ever," Mikasa sniffs. "As if anyone would ever like that shorty, he's so full of himself—"

"Keep your voice down." Eren looks around nervously. "And I honestly don't think Captain Levi has anything going on with Squad Leader Hanji. In fact, if anything..." He lowers his voice dramatically, and everyone leans in, even Ymir. "I'd suspect he has something on with Ms Petra."

There's a shocked silence. Sasha interrupts it by bursting into laughter. "Petra Ral? The lady in your squad?" she giggles. "You've got to be joking, she's way too nice for him."

"And way too cute," Jean interrupts with a snigger. "Although, at least she's shorter than him, ha—"

"I still think he has something going on with Squad Leader Hanji," Connie says firmly. He grins mischievously. "And if there are any disagreements...well, anyone care to settle it with a bet?"

==

"Guys," Eld announces, striding into the room and grinning like he's just won the lottery, "you'll never believe what I overheard at dinner."

Petra yawns. Gunther shrugs. "Don't know, don't care," Auruo goes, wincing as he stretches in his chair. "Training was a bitch today, I just wanna get to bed."

"Well, you'll reconsider when you hear this." The squad's second-in-command leans forward, his eyes gleaming. "The captain and Squad Leader Hanji have something going on."

For a moment, no-one moves.

"Wow." Auruo stares at him with awe. "Did you take a hit on the head with a tree branch this morning or something?"

"Even if it was true, you've some nerve telling us." Gunther rolls his eyes in amused disbelief. "The captain could walk in any minute, you know."

"I'm keeping a lookout," Eld insists. "But it's true! I overheard the kids talking about it, and you know that Captain Levi spends almost all his time with them these days, them and the Jaeger brat. They must've seen or heard something."

"If the captain was dating anyone, Petra'd be the first to know," Gunther points out wisely, and turns to their sole female squadmate, and Captain Levi's alleged favourite "Right, Pet...?"

He trails off when he catches sight of the look on the woman's face. Her usually sunny demeanour has been replaced by something pale, stony-faced, and all in all quite terrifying.

There's an awkward silence. "Petra?" Eld ventures. "Is it...is it true then? About the captain dating—"

"Dating who, now?"

Everyone except Petra leaps to their feet instantly, their eagerness quelling to a deer-in-headlights guilt as the man in question stalks through the doors, as silently and with rather the same, threatening air of a predator cornering its prey.

"Eld, you ass," Gunther mutters out of the side of his mouth at the failed lookout.

Auruo, on the other hand, glances sideways at Petra, who remains seated, the strange, cold fury still on her face, her fists clenched at her sides. "What are you doing?" he hisses. "Get up."

She ignores him. "Captain," she says instead, her voice frighteningly calm, "Eld was just talking about a rumour he'd heard."

The man laughs nervously. "Petra," he mutters through a forced smile, "I don't think the captain needs to hear about this."

She continues on, as though she hadn't heard him. "Apparently," she says, her words taking on a note so decidedly threatening that even Humanity's Strongest soldier starts looking slightly nervous, "you're dating Squad Leader Hanji. Is that true, sir?"

The last word hangs in the air, like a warning. The captain blinks.

And makes a sound low in his throat that sounds almost, incredibly, like a muffled snort.

For some reason, Petra seems to take offense at it. She shoves her chair back, sends him one last look of absolute loathing (the boys suck in bated breaths at that), and flounces out of the room, slamming the door bodily behind her.

No-one says anything. The captain's expression doesn't shift a centimetre.

"...uh, sir?" Gunther finally ventures, after a full thirty seconds of silence. "Are you...all right?"

The question seems to snap him out of his reverie. He rounds on Eld, even as his face remains a mask of deadly calm.

"Where," he asks icily, "did you hear that?"

"The kids," Eld confesses after a moment's hesitation.

Captain Levi mutters a curse under his breath.

==

Several fingers point, at once, to Connie Springer.

He sputters, looking around wildly at the traitors. "It wasn't just me!" he cries, and glares accusingly at his comrades. "Krista, you agreed, too!"

Ymir steps protectively in front of the blonde girl. "Don't you pin this on her," she snarls.

"Well, she did," Mikasa says, as deadpan as ever. "So? What's this about? Is it true, sir?" The recruits turn a shade paler at her blunt remark. Eren elbows her in the side, and yelps as his arm collides with what seems to be a wall of solid muscle.

Levi glares at the lot of them. "You shitty brats really don't have a brain cell between the lot of you, do you," he barks. "I've never heard anything so stupid in my life."

"If I may, sir," Mikasa goes smoothly, even as Sasha hisses at her to shut up already, "if it was rubbish anyway, why waste your time coming after us? Gossip isn't exactly a subject worth your attention.

"Yes, captain," another voice comes snidely from behind him. It's Petra, arms folded and glaring daggers, lips twisted in a frown that looks quite out of place on her ordinarily cheerful face. "Why bother?"

Eren's eyes widen, darting rapidly from the captain to his pissed-off subordinate. A look of gleeful understanding dawns on his face.

"Oh," he breathes. "Ms Petra, you're dating the captain, aren't you?"

There's an awkward silence. "None of your business," Levi snaps, just as Petra replies, "No."

The captain turns to her, incredulously. "No?"

"Did I say something wrong, sir?" she drawls. They glare at each other in a silent argument that goes on for a few heated moments, before Levi finally looks away.

"Fine," he growls. "I'm not with Four-Eyes. I'm...I'm with Ral here. And no-one outside this room needs to hear a fucking word of this, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" the recruits chorus in unison, thumping their fists over their hearts with suppressed grins. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Connie Springer and Sasha Braus discreetly exchange coins.

He decides to ignore this.

"Anything else?" he asks, folding his arms and turning his best glare on them.

Nobody dares to move. At least, until Eren raises a tentative hand.

"If it helps," he volunteers, "I betted on you, Ms Petra."

Petra doesn't smile. "Thank you, Eren."

==

"Captain!" Eld exclaims, bursting into the room two days later. "Is it true that you and Pet—"

"Fucking hell."

[candycityy]

Hii, Candy! For the Drabble Challenge, 12 and 19 😊

(You can also read this on AO3!)

Newlywed bliss, Levi decides, is sort of like a bubble. Or a vacuum, pick your metaphor.

You get so caught up in the sheer wonder of the whole situation, of shared touches and delirious smiles and and waking up with the love of your life sprawled unglamourously beside you, open-mouthed and drooling and just thoroughly adorable, and your heart swells and you can't think and you forget that the world hasn't stopped spinning on its axis for you and you alone.

In other words, Levi pleads insanity.

So when Petra walks into the drawing room one day with a frozen look on her face, one that's equal parts terror and bewilderment and something else that he can't quite discern, he doesn't know what to think. And then she says it.

"Levi," she says, "I'm pregnant."

Just two words, and his world is upended. He think Petra says something after, but he doesn't hear her; blood roars in his ears, his breath is stuck in his throat, and for the first time in his life, he finds himself shocked into utter silence.

And he realises, that third emotion in her face that he hadn't recognised earlier: it's happiness. A wild, fierce joy, a bewildered and terrified joy, but a joy nonetheless.

His head spins, and he feels, incomprehensibly, the urge to lie down. "Pregnant," he echoes. His voice is hoarse, ragged. "Petra, that's..."

He trails off. He doesn't know what to say. Incredible? Ridiculous? Impossible? Petra seems to recognise the tumult in his thoughts, though, because her expression shifts into a kind of defensive stubborness. As if by instinct, her arms curl over her still-flat abdomen, protective.

"Look," she begins, "I know we hadn't planned on this so early, but if you're thinking of—"

"No," he says. His voice is harsh, decisive, and he takes a small step towards her. "I'm not. Petra, I'm sorry, I was just...surprised. I wouldn't...ask you to hurt it. I would never."

She swallows. Her gaze searching, tentative. "Then...you're okay? You're not mad? Or upset?"

"I don't know how I feel," he says honestly. "I don't know shit about being a parent. Maybe I'll screw it all up, I don't know that either. And I'll be real, this is fucking terrifying." Petra laughs. The sound is like broken glass.

"But," he takes a step towards her, "I know I'll try my damned hardest to protect it. Give it a good life. I mean..." His eyes never move away from her stomach. "It's our baby."

His voice cracks on the two words, and that's all she needs. She almost falls into him, sobbing and laughing all at the same time. "Levi, I'm so scared," she whispers. She sounds dreamy, incredulous; enchanted. "A baby. We made a baby."

Levi's never been sure of anything; his life has been a maze of choice, of possibilities, of maybes and what-ifs. But as he stares down at Petra, her arms still wrapped around her middle, he feels a surge of something fierce and unfamiliar in his chest, something almost painful in its acuteness, and he knows, without a doubt: he would die for this stirring of life that drifts, still blind to the world, in his wife's womb.

==

The first time he tells someone, it's entirely by accident.

They're all hanging out in the lounge, like most nights; they haven't told Erwin, and Petra reckons it's better to wait a little, just in case. Eld and Auruo are bickering away as usual, and somehow, the topic turns to one of their colleagues, who recently put in a request to switch to the Garrison after his wife became pregnant.

"I mean, I get why," Eld says, his lip curling, "I just don't get how. Sitting around on the walls, getting drunk and playing cards all day...I'll never understand."

"Your fiancée might like that, though, wouldn't she," Auruo taunts. The other man rolls his eyes.

"Aria knows I'll never leave the Survey Corps. I plan to live till the ripe old age of seventy and die in a blaze of glory as Supreme Commander, thank you very much."

"Supreme Commander isn't even a title, you ass," Gunther goes from across the room, looking up from his book. "But pregnancy...that's a whole lot of responsibility, isn't it? How do you just go off and risk your life every day, with a kid waiting at home for you?"

Levi's stomach churns suddenly, his dinner threatening to make a reappearance, and his face suddenly feels very hot. He fights to keep his expression carefully blank, but Petra's eyes catch his, narrowing with concern.

"And that's how you ruin a life. Congratulations," Auruo concludes wisely.

"Hey," Petra retorts sharply, "that's not true. Being a dad doesn't mean your life ends, you know. You can still be a soldier, and fight, and everything."

Auruo leers at her. "It's different for you, Pet. Mothers have options...but fathers, they gotta provide for their families, woman. Dying...leaving your wife and kid to fend for themselves...it's not done." Eld and Gunther nod agreement, and Petra makes a face, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, 'sexist cows'.

Levi doesn't know what possesses him in that instant. His throat is dry, and he's so lightheaded he feels numb, almost disembodied. He stands up abruptly, and announces, "Petra and I are expecting."

The silence that follows is palpable, thick enough to choke on. He can feel Petra's eyes as Auruo begins to sputter apologies and retractions—"I only meant—but of course, you wouldn't die and leave your kid alone, captain! You're humanity's strongest, after all! You'd never..."

He's still stammering away when Levi turns on his heel without a word, and walks out of the room.

==

The candle in his room has melted into a stump of wax when Petra finds him, later that night.

"Hey," she says softly. She's changed into her nightgown, and her hair, still damp from the showers, tumbles into the hollow of her collarbone. In the dim light of the candle, she looks pale and fragile; hollowed cheekbones, shadowed eyes.

Something deep in his chest wrenches, and he opens his mouth, only to find that no words come out. But she seems to understand his expression; of course she does, she always does.

She walks over to the window, where he stands, staring out of the window, and wraps her arms around his back. They're so nearly the same height that it's a comfortable position for them, her face pressed into his shoulder, her hair brushing the curve of his cheek. They stay there for a few moments in a comfortable silence, just relishing in the wordless companionship.

Petra isn't a patient person by nature. But by now, she knows him; knows how the thoughts whirl insistently in his mind at the height of his emotion, unwilling to settle into the dust. So she waits, her warm breath reassuring on his neck, her heartbeat strong against his back.

He finally exhales. "Do you think they were right?" he asks. The words sound unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. When she doesn't reply immediately, he goes on, "I could...you know. I could join the Garrison, too, or the Military Police. Or leave the military. I could do other things. Erwin would understand, he'd help—"

"No." The word cuts through the room. Gently but firmly, Petra turns him around to face her. The moonlight casts her in silver, turning her into something luminous, ethereal—almost otherworldly.

"Levi, I love you more than anything in this stupid world." Her expression is fierce, intent. "And I won't let you do that. You belong here, in the Survey Corps. And I do, too."

"But just say—"

"I'm not fragile, Levi," she shoots back, her eyes burning with a familiar fire. "Sure, maybe I'm not strong the way you are, but I'm strong enough. I'm not saying I'd be okay if you died—of course I wouldn't—but I'd survive, and I'd keep our child alive, too. And I believe you'd do the same."

Something breaks in him, then, like the shattering of a glass, and he looks up. Petra is glaring at him with those burning eyes, and in that moment, she's so alive and beautiful, the love of his life, the mother of his unborn child. The realisation makes him stagger. He's never felt so complete; he's never had so much to lose.

Feeling as though the weight of the world sits on his shoulders, he nods.

Petra's answering smile is a promise, golden and honeyed and full of light. She draws him in tighter.

"Trust me," she whispers. Her presence is warm, solid, comforting. "Everything will be all right."

Drabble challenge!

[candycityy]

Ooh rivetra and 20 or 76 (or both if you want to ;)) for the Drabble prompts pleeeease 🧡🖤

Note: I did both because what can I say, I love a challenge, hehehe. I hope you like it!

References this earlier drabble.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

So here's the thing, right. For all his flaws—and he does have flaws, no matter what the fawning masses think—Levi isn't stupid.

Sure, he's not probably not cut out for the rarefied, upper-crust intelligentsia that Erwin Smith moves in. And sure, certain idiots of the variety of Hanji Zoë might swear on their dying breaths that he's all brawn and no brain, et cetera, but the truth is, he's got enough street smarts and common sense that most people conveniently overlook his awful social skills.

And that means that contrary to popular belief, Levi doesn't totally suck at social events. The Sina elite tend to misread his frosty bluntness and lack of etiquette as a refreshing, man-on-the-street brand of humour. Which, well, whatever works, he supposes.

Unfortunately, as a matter of consequence, that means that even with a hyperactive three-year old at home, Erwin had point-blank refused to let him off for this year's Midwinter Ball. He'd given him leave for the past few since Ava was still far too young to be left alone at home, but judging by the commander's expression, he's just about exhausted his excuses.

"You know the state of our finances, Levi," he'd said, cerulean eyes earnest and entreating. "We need every coin we can get. And, well, you're always quite popular at these balls, being humanity's strongest and all—not accounting for taste, of course—"

"Oi!"

The commander'd smirked, but his expression had faded back to solemnity quickly enough. "We need you there, Levi. I won't make it an order, but consider it...a personal request. Please?"

Levi'd grumbled under his breath. "Whatever. I'll go, I'll go, just stop looking at me like that," he'd barked.

Erwin had smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Levi."

Cut to the present. It's just past six o'clock, the winter sky only now beginning to darken into a somewhat forbidding shade of violet-grey. He's already dressed in his standard black suit, pacing back and forth the small living room, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

Petra, who's in the midst of removing the curlers from her hair, shoots him an irritated look. "Would you calm down," she hisses, "you're driving me crazy. And Ava's going to pick up on it too, you know."

They both glance at their daughter, who's serenely colouring in a picture in crayon at the other end of the room. The three-year-old is Petra in miniature, from her wide eyes right down to her peaches-and-cream complexion. With just one exception: her hair is just a touch darker than her mother's: more cinnamon than honey.

Levi runs a hand through his hair. "Why aren't they here yet?" he says, for the third time that night.

"Because we told them to come at half past," Petra replies, with somewhat less patience than she'd ordinarily have. "Now get over here and help me do up my necklace, would you."

The metal is cold to the touch, but Petra just smiles softly as he clasps the necklace behind her neck with deft fingers. "Remember our first Midwinter Ball?" she reminisces. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Levi says drily. "I was busy dragging Auruo off the dance floor after he puked and blacked out, remember?"

She giggles. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part. But still, that was when we danced together for the first time." They fall into a comfortable, nostalgic silence, and finally, he sighs.

"I still don't like leaving her alone," he mutters.

"It's hardly the first time," Petra says gently.

"I know, but it's the first time we'll be so far from her. And for so long, too—a whole night." His eyes turn contemplative. "Maybe I could just ride back, after the ball—if the weather isn't bad—"

"Don't even think about it," she says sharply. "The roads aren't safe this time of year, especially not so late at night, there's too much ice. We'll be back in the morning, Levi. Don't worry so much."

He snorts. "Easier said than done. Why aren't they here yet?" he asks again. This time, Petra ignores him, instead turning back to the mirror and carefully applying lipstick with a practiced hand.

After the final step—dusting her cheeks with rose-tinted powder—she rises to her feet, doing a slow turn in her gown, a sleek, champagne-coloured affair with a fitted bodice and fluted sleeves, cut out of satin and embellished with tiny buttons down the front. Her delicately curled hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone, just brushing the front of her dress.

"What do you think?" she goes. Oblivious to his sullen silence, she juts out a hip and flutters her lashes at him coquettishly, an action which earns her an eye-roll.

"You're going to make everyone stare," he grumbles. She giggles.

"I have to keep your fangirls away, now don't I?" she teases, with a toss of her head. He's about to issue a retort when a knock comes at the door.

"Right on time, as usual," Petra declares. Levi just scowls.

He'd had been reluctant to get them back after the first disastrous incident, but Petra had insisted that they'd done a good job—"after all, Ava was perfectly fine, wasn't she?" As a result, Eren and Jean have become their go-to babysitters ever since. Levi's loath to admit it, but their daughter has warmed up to them. She's already toddling over to the door with a ready beam on her face, as the boys troop in through the door, faces flushed with the cold.

"Eren nii-chan! Jean nii-chan!" she chirps, plump arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pleaaaase?"

Eren breaks into a grin and obliges. His terror of Levi has subsided somewhat, although he still occasionally trips over his feet whenever he walks past, but he openly adores the toddler. Jean's a bit more reserved, but as Ava begins to babble cheerfully, his expression noticeably softens—even though he claims he's not a fan of babies, Levi suspects that he's secretly just as enamoured with Ava as his comrade is.

Of course, that only makes sense, considering that as far as Levi is concerned, Ava Ackerman is the cutest fucking baby on the planet.

Outside the door, there's the distant sound of approaching hooves pounding against cobblestone. Sensing a farewell, Petra sighs and leans over to give Ava one last hug, as Levi presses a gentle kiss to his daughter's cheek.

"We'll better be off," she says reluctantly. "Boys, thank you so much for taking care of Ava tonight. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do."

All four adults exchange grim, silent glances; they know what's coming next. Levi picks up his coat and shrugs it on. Petra wraps a scarf around her neck.

And with a sigh, they push the door open, and wait.

Three, two—

"Nooooo!"

Ava lets out a ear-splitting shriek, one that seems far too loud to come from such a small baby. Her eyes well up with anxious tears as she comes to the awful realisation that her parents are leaving without her, and she struggles desperately towards them, her face screwed-up and flushed with fury, as Eren doggedly tries to keep her from wriggling out of his arms. Beside him, Jean attempts in vain to ply her with sweets and toys, but she won't be soothed or distracted.

"No, no, no!" Ava wails. Her tiny fists pummel Eren's shoulder, who, to his credit, doesn't flinch, just hefts her up resignedly. "No go, no go! Stay!"

Petra sends him a warning look. And even as every atom of his body rebels against the thought of it...

Levi steps over the threshold, and into the wintry night air.

==

"Levi," Petra says patiently, "you're fidgeting."

She places a hand on his thigh, which, apparently, he'd been subconsciously jiggling all this while. Calming Ava down had taken about ten whole minutes, but Eren and Jean had finally managed to distract her with a game of hide-and-seek—her new favourite—and they'd quietly snuck onto the carriage before she could realise their trick.

They're barely more than a mile from home, but already being away from Ava feels like a piercing, physical pain in the front of his skull, a palpable anxiety that refuses to fade. Even Petra's presence, usually so comforting, doesn't soothe him in the slightest.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It's just—it's fucking terrifying, being a parent." His wife touches his cheek in silent commiseration, and they both sit in silence.

It's as perfect a night as it could ever be, in all honesty. The moon is full and bright, its silvery light beaming helpfully onto their path. The road is almost deserted this evening—Levi supposes most people would rather be safely tucked in the warmth of their homes, celebrating the holiday season with their own families instead of with dozens of expensively-attired strangers.

Fuck it all. Sensing his blood pressure rising, he takes a deep breath. The air is cool and dry and calming. Turning to stare out at the window, he listens to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the horses' hooves, their huffed pants of exertion, the metallic whine of the wheels—

Levi frowns. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Petra starts to ask, and then stills—this time, she'd heard it too. That high-pitched, bell-like sound, that sounds disturbingly like...

She swallows. "D-did you just make that noise?"

He stares at her drily. "I don't think my vocal chords could physically manage that."

"You don't think..." Her jaw drops, and she almost leaps towards the driver's seat in her urgency, startling the poor old man. "Excuse me! Stop the carriage, please!"

The horses have barely come to a halt when Levi disembarks from the carriage in one swift, fluid movement. He strides towards the back of the carriage, where, he knows, there's a small compartment built in, just large enough for their overnight bags and gear.

As well as—perhaps—a three-year-old toddler, if she were crouching quite close to the floor. Like, for instance, in a game of hide-and-seek.

His expression is grim as he tugs open the lid of the compartment. Behind him, Petra looks frozen, her face a mixture of trepidation and incredulity and just the tiniest hint of amusement.

The lid comes loose. "Daddy!" their irrepressible daughter exclaims, springing out of her crouching position. She giggles again, that familiar high-pitched, bell-like sound almost unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. "Mama! Ava came along!"

For a second, both parents are struck speechless as they stare at their cheerful stowaway in wordless horror.

Finally, Petra opens her mouth to speak.

"You don't say," she deadpans.

==

By the time they reach Sina, the ball has already started.

Of course, considering how they had to turn back around (much to the chagrin of the carriage-driver), tuck Ava very firmly into bed (it goes easier this time, considering how exhausted she is from the very dramatic game of hide-and-seek), reassure a terrified Eren and Jean that they're not mad (although Levi still isn't sure, to be honest), and allow them to resume sentry duty before leaving, he figures they actually made pretty good time.

Other than the very pointed, self-righteous look the doorman shoots them as they stumble into the hall, they manage to blend into the crowd with relative ease. They quickly touch base with the rest of the squad and collect two well-deserved flutes of wine before searching for Erwin, if only to reassure him that they did, in fact, come.

The commander is, of course, easy enough to spot, what with his stature and all. And although he initially looks mildly disapproving, his expression quickly turns wry once he hears the tale.

"That's quite a story," he says, nodding politely at a passing noblewoman, who blushes alluringly and bats her eyes. "Although, I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all, considering."

Petra giggles. "Touché. Although, maybe next year, we can bring her along. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Over my dead body," Levi says flatly. "But maybe next year, you'll let me stay home, Erwin."

The blonde man sighs and casts his eyes skyward. Around them, the party thrums cheerfully, soldiers mingling with nobles, careful words and casual touches exchanged over good dance and better drink. But although the atmosphere is thick with holiday cheer and inebriation, the commander seems wearily immune. "Maybe next year, I'll finally resign."

Levi snorts and lifts his wine-glass. "I'll toast to that."

Drabble challenge!

[candycityy]

RIVETRA AND 51.

Note: Hey anon! I already did 51, you can check it out here <3 But in the similar spirit of husband!levi, I did 63 instead ("Can you just man up and change his diaper?"). I hope you enjoy it still!

(You can also read this on AO3!)

Petra Ral, without a doubt, is the person he trusts most on the planet. From subordinate, to comrade, to lover, and finally, wife, she has always demonstrated nothing more or less than an unerring sense of judgment.

This trait, of course, is what made her the most reliable person on his squad back in the day, and what allows him to entrust his life—and the life of his daughter—to her.

But. Still.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Levi asks, for the fourth time that night. His wife doesn't even bother with an exasperated glare this time, just idly turns the page of her book. "And why won't you tell me who you got to babysit? I swear, Petra, if it's Hanji—"

"It's not Hanji, relax," she says lightly, tucking a neatly curled lock of hair behind her ear. "And yes, I'm sure. We haven't had a date night in ages. I think I've forgotten what it's like to actually do an activity that doesn't involve crayons or nursery rhymes."

"But if you'd just tell me—"

"No, Levi." She stands up and smooths down the fabric of her dress—a silky, knee-length sheath the colour of honey. He's seen her in it before, but it still makes his breath catch in his throat; although, to be fair, it's been a while since he'd seen her in something other than a t-shirt and sweatpants.

She glances at the clock, and then at the cot, where Ava is still dozing peacefully—for now, anyway. "They should be here any second."

"They?" he's about to say, when two hesitant knocks come at the door. He starts to get up, but Petra shoots him a warning look and sweeps towards the door. He sits back down.

"Boys, thank you so much for agreeing to babysit today." Petra beams down at their guests, her voice like melted sugar. "Come in." Levi glances up just in time to see...of all people, Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirschtein, wearing twin expressions of wariness.

Oh fuck no.

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "Petra, you're not serious. Jaeger and Kirschtein? You might at least have tried for one of the girls."

"Mikasa wouldn't come," Eren says helpfully, and then blushes, looking a bit awkward. "She has...uh, a bit of a grudge against the captain still, I think."

"Historia was busy, and I don't think you'd want Sasha anyway, sir." Jean, who's crisply attired in his military wear for whatever reason, looks mildly offended at Levi's brusque comment.

Levi tries to be polite.

"It's nothing personal. It's just that the pair of you don't have any experience with infants," he says, attempting to rearrange his features into that calm, reassuring expression Erwin makes whenever he's faced with agitated civilians.

Judging by their faces, he's still pretty far off the mark.

"Actually," Petra intervenes, "they do. Well, Eren does." She shoots him another warm, cinnamon-sweet smile, and he blushes again. "He said he used to babysit the neighbour's toddler with Mikasa. And Jean...well, it was between him and Connie." When the teenager chafes at the comparison, she adds hastily, "and he's always been perfectly responsible and conscientious, hasn't he?"

"We can handle one infant, sir," Eren pipes up. His face is a picture of anxious enthusiasm, reminding Levi sharply and uncomfortably of a particularly eager-to-please puppy.

"I mean, we kill Titans with no problem, and they're a heck lot more troublesome than a baby, I would think," Jean adds, casting a skeptical look over at the still-silent cot.

"You would think," Levi mutters darkly, and is about to put his foot down, no, absolutely, not, when Petra firmly loops her arm through his and begins to steer him towards the exit.

"See? Everything's fine. We'll see you in a couple of hours, boys! Thanks for doing this again!" she chirps, and frog-marches him out of the door.

"Bye, captain! Bye, Ms. Petra!" Eren calls cheerfully, waving. Levi turns (with some difficulty, considering his wife's very firm grip) to glare at him.

"She's a Mrs. now, you brat," he manages to snarl before the door slams shuts in his face.

==

Despite everything, they have a nice date.

It takes about four glasses of wine and a threat of bodily harm from Petra before he finally stops fretting about Ava—but, truth be told, the rest of the night goes as well as it possibly could have, considering.

"See, didn't you have fun?" Petra teases. There's a blush high in her cheeks from the cold and the wine, and with his thick coat wrapped around her slight figure, Levi figures she looks pretty damn adorable.

He grunts in reluctant assent, feeling unusually relaxed. It's been a long time since it was just the two of them, after all, and he's almost forgotten what it feels like without the constant stress of being responsible for a very small, very fragile human being who he loves with such fierceness that sometimes he feels as though his chest will burst.

He's still revelling in the niceness of it all—the cool night air, Petra's small hand in his—as they walk up to the door of their house. He's seriously contemplating if he should actually get Jaeger and Kirschtein something nice for their trouble—maybe a day off or something, he doesn't know—when he hears a sound that makes him freeze in his tracks.

Next to him, Petra stiffens. The sound fades momentarily, only to re-emerge with a vengeance, and there's no mistaking it: it's a scream.

Levi doesn't remember sprinting to the door and wrenching it open, his heart pumping so fast he can barely breath and Petra hot in his wake, but he supposes he does at some point because in a matter of seconds he's in the house, staring straight into the face of absolute chaos.

The living room is littered with toys and scattered pillows and, for some reason, a lone shoe. The stove is smouldering in a vaguely menacing manner, heavy smoke rising from the burnt remains of something completely unrecognisable. Meanwhile, their beloved daughter crawls quite cheerfully across the floor, beelining for Jean, who's slowly inching away on the ground, his face screwed up with equal parts terror and disgust. A familiar stink wafts through the room, and Levi instinctively wrinkles his nose.

And the perpetrator of the scream: Eren Jaeger, who's hunched over the basin, scrabbling blindly at the trickle of water from the tap, feverishly attempting to wash what appears to be spit-up out of his eyes.

Clearly, none of them have yet noticed their arrival.

"HORSE FACE, CAN YOU JUST MAN UP AND CHANGE HER DIAPER?" he shrieks across the room, his voice coming out noticeably higher than usual.

"WHY CAN'T YOU DO IT?" his comrade yells back, his eyes not moving from the effervescent infant, who giggles at the sound of all the shouting.

Behind him, Petra stifles a laugh.

"BECAUSE THANKS TO YOUR SHITTY BURP TECHNIQUE, I'M NOW BLIND, YOU—" The teenager proceeds to cuss him out quite colourfully, and Levi chooses that moment to intervene.

"What," he goes, lowly, "in the living fuck do you think you're doing?"

The effect is instantaneous, like the firing of a gun. Both boys instantly scramble to their feet and thump their fists to their chests in salute (Eren still blinking furiously).

Petra just giggles and strides across the hall to Ava, who's now babbling happily at the arrival of her parents. "Thanks for babysitting, boys," she goes, taking a cautious whiff of the baby's diapers and reeling at the smell. "Whew. I'll take care of this. Levi, be nice," she warns, before hoisting their daughter onto her hip and strolling away.

He can't help but notice there's a little amused bounce in her step, and his glower darkens.

"Captain—" Eren begins, but Levi lifts up a hand.

"I don't even wanna hear it," he barks. "You—for fuck's sake, go wash your face in the bathroom, the water flow is better there. And you..." he rounds on Jean, who gulps nervously. "You're dismissed. Just...go. Bye."

The boys slump over, looking at him with the big sad puppy eyes (although the effect of Eren's is somewhat diminished by his pained squint). And maybe it's the wine, maybe age or marriage or parenthood has made him soft, but he adds, with utmost reluctance, "Wait. Uh...thanks." He clears his throat. "Take a day off next week. If you want."

It takes a while for them to realise that it isn't a trap of some sorts (seriously, he doesn't get it; why do cadets always think the worst of him?), but eventually, he manages to shoo them off with wide eyes and thank-yous and maybe some mild trauma on Jean's part, but hey, this is the Survey Corps, after all. When he goes back to their bedroom, he finds Petra waiting for him, Ava sleeping peacefully in her arms, a mischievous, smug grin on her face.

"Don't even say it," he snaps.

Drabble challenge!

[candycityy]

—modern!moving-in-together eremika fluff. because fluff is good for the spirit, okay. based on a prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting.

So, here's the thing: Mikasa knows what people say behind her back.

They say she's obsessed with Eren, and fine, maybe she is. Whatever, it'd worked, even though it'd taken about half a decade longer than she'd liked. And they're together now, aren't they? Engaged. Moving into a place of their own. Everything should be perfect.

Everything is perfect.

She repeats it to herself, like a mantra. Even when Eren appears in front of her out of nowhere—like a particularly annoying ghost, she thinks unkindly—right before she can move the nightstand she's carrying to their new room.

She has to bite her lip to stop herself cursing loudly.

"Mikasa," he goes, and she wonders to herself when exactly he'd started sounding quite so much like his mother. "Mikasa, you can't put the nightstand in there."

Deep breath. "Why not?" She hefts the piece of furniture in her arms pointedly.

"It's bad for the feng shui."

"Feng what?" He seems to miss the note of danger in her voice. Because of course he does.

"I consulted an expert," he explains. "I know it's more of a Chinese concept, but the Azumabitos recommended him very strongly—"

"Eren." She shuts her eyes, trying to fend off the beginnings of a headache that's forming rapidly at her forehead, and resists the urge to dump the nightstand right on his shoes. "I. Don't. Care."

Eren frowns. "But—"

"Eren I am carrying ninety pounds of mahogany right now and I swear if you don't let me put this down here right now it's going in the damn toilet." The words come out through gritted teeth, and her annoyance is so evident that even her ever-oblivious fiancé takes a step back.

Taking advantage of his hesitation, she marches straight into the bedroom and sets it down, less rather gently than she would usually have. It makes an obligingly loud thunk as it hits the floor, and Mikasa wonders savagely how much good a dent in the shiny new parquet would do for the damn feng shui.

Eren's wearing that expression, the half-bewildered, half-wary one that's usually reserved strictly for her rare period tantrums. "Mikasa," he ventures, tentatively, "are you all right?"

Before they'd started dating, she'd shake her head no and smile, accommodating as always. But the years seem to have balanced them out somewhat, mellowing his temper and—unfortunately—quickening hers.

Although. In her defense. No-one could survive in a romantic relationship with Eren Jaeger for very long while remaining all reserved and sweet.

But looking at his face, all innocent confusion and sea-green eyes, Mikasa can't help but feel the temper drain from her, replaced by a feeling of distinct sulkiness.

"No," she grumbles, and slumps into an out-of-place rocking chair. "I'm tired and stressed out and you're being excessively picky about everything. Since when did you care about feng shui, anyway?"

Eren chooses that moment to look vaguely sheepish. "I don't. I, um—I just thought...the Azumabitos might like it. They're your family, and, uh." His gaze drops to the floor. "I don't want them to hate me."

His cheeks colour in a manner that Mikasa can only call endearing, and she can almost feel herself melting, those familiar, stupid butterflies fluttering in her abdomen.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she informs him. He's about to protest, his brow knitting in indignation, when she throws her arms around him and pulls him into a rib-bruising hug.

"You're stupid," she murmurs into his ear. "I don't care what the Azumabitos think of you. I love you, no matter what, idiot."

It's a few moments before Eren responds, but he does, his hands settling gently at the small of her back. Still so tentative and careful, after all these years. The thought makes her smile into his chest.

When they finally pull apart, Eren offers her a tiny grin. "So...we can do this however we want? You're sure? No family input required?"

"Nope." She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Not even Levi?"

Mikasa shudders slightly at thought of what her annoying cousin might do if he knew their flat was anything less than perfectly sanitary.

"Well," she says, somewhat grudgingly, "we should probably try to keep it clean. If only so he doesn't bully you into doing anything stupid—you really shouldn't let him scare you so much, you know—"

"Have you met the man?" Eren goes defensively, but there's a sparkle in his eye as he says it. His arm finds it way across her shoulders, and she leans in to him, feeling blissfully contented. At least for now, everything really is perfect.

"Hey, Mikasa?" His breath is warm, tickling her ear. She smiles dreamily.

"Yeah?"

"Can we at least put the nightstand in the south side of the—"

"Oh my gosh."

[candycityy]

95. “You’re cute when you’re all worried.” 😉

(You can also read this on AO3!)

The funny thing about the captain is that he's usually so stoic, right; the very picture of impassiveness and calm, no matter the situation. After all, this is the man who saw a teenager explode into a fifteen-metre-tall Titan before his eyes, and reacted with roughly the same degree of alarm you'd afford a small stovetop fire, perhaps, or a breaking glass.

Sure, Petra knows—now, anyway—that his frosty demeanour stems more from a kind of mild-mannered placidity than it does true dispassion. And yet, it's become sort of a game to her, to pick out the little cues and nuances in his expression and gestures, translating them into words and meaning.

Right now, even though to the untrained eye, the captain might appear just as unruffled as he always is, Petra knows better. The tiniest frown that creases his brow, the tension in his shoulders, the way his teeth are clenched so tightly he appears to have lockjaw: Levi is on the verge of total and complete panic.

Petra bites back a giggle. "You don't have to be so freaked out," she says, reaching out to examine a jar of peach preserves. "It's just my parents, after all. And they'll adore you no matter what."

Levi scoffs, in a vaguely irritated manner. "Yeah, right. Let's be real, I suck at first impressions."

Her mind flashes back to the memory of the first time he'd met him. It hadn't been pretty.

"Well," she says, by way of concession, "maybe you could...talk...less?" She turns to look at a display of jams, pretending not to notice his dark glare.

"Won't work. So." He trails off, but there's a kind of finality in his tone. He squints at another shelf, which contains a selection of expensive-looking wine. He turns the bottle around to look at the price tag—but, despite flinching noticeably, he doesn't withdraw his hand.

"So," Petra echoes, with an air of incredulity, "what, you're just going to bribe them instead? Put that down." She attempts to smack his hand away from the bottle, but he dodges easily, with the unfair grace that comes with being, well, him. "Levi, that costs a month's wages! My dad doesn't even like wine!"

He eyes her suspiciously. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," she lies deftly, "he prefers...champagne."

"The fuck's that?"

"It's really rare. Usually only found in Sina, I think." She hopes desperately that the store doesn't stock any.

Levi grunts, still not entirely convinced. His expression makes her heart swell, and she can't resist leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. "You're cute when you're all worried."

A corner of his mouth lifts, almost imperceptibly. "You're not being very helpful, you know. Don't you think we already have enough bullshit going on in our lives without risking a potential in-law battle, too?"

Petra rolls her eyes, reaching over to interlace their fingers together. Their hands fit together perfectly, and she relishes in the fact that he doesn't pull away, despite his usual aversion to any sort of public display of affection at all.

"Firstly, there isn't going to be one. Secondly, you suck at gifts, love—don't look at me like that, you know it's true—so if they're determined to hate you anyway, I doubt a bit of wine is going to help."

He looks at her, gently exasperated. Although, Petra notes with some triumph, the anxious tension has dissipated. "So, what, we just turn up at your parents' place empty-handed?"

"Please. You're going to turn up with the greatest gift of all time..." She tosses her hair, and flutters her lashes at him in faux-bashfulness. "Me, of course."

"...Ral." Levi's expression is unreadable now, betraying nothing, but he squeezes her hand, slightly. She beams at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're a fucking headcase, you know."

"...I'm telling my dad you said that."

Drabble Challenge!