tropes: reincarnation
that time erwin gets what he wants.
another story for “short stories about sad old men” > ao3 link
direct sequel to about hell
Irvin was a good southern man. Grew up going to church every Sunday, was an Eagle Scout, a star quarterback, prom king. He was intelligent, handsome, cunning. He could have gone to college, but instead joined the military because his father and his father’s father had. Fought in wars with a salute that cast shadows across his eyes, blinding him to a past he didn’t know he had.
Heaven was coming home to a proud father and mother. Heaven was reconnecting with his high school sweetheart. Heaven was falling in love.
He proposed to her rather traditionally. The cuisine was french, the flowers were lilies, the ring white gold and adorned with a large diamond. He had saved up for it since they first started dating. They were soulmates, he and Marie. It upset him that they had waited so long.
She said yes, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing her tear stained cheeks against his neck. Irvin’s heart felt so big then, so full of love and admiration. There was no doubt that she would say yes, but he still felt relief when she did. They finished the night walking hand in hand in the park near the water fountain. They kissed, took a selfie with Marie’s ring, posted it on Facebook.
Marie spent the rest of the night calling her parents and her friends, her hand with the engagement ring clutched tightly in Irvin’s as they walked back to the car.
Heaven was their wedding--traditional and big and gorgeous. Heaven was the look on Marie’s face when she told Irvin they were pregnant. Heaven was hearing his first born, red skinned and naked, screaming in her first breath.
They had a house. Big and ready to accommodate up to two more kids if they wanted. And they did. Years passed. Over the course of hundreds of diapers were PTA meetings and family vacations. They were happy as a family, and Irvin loved them more than he ever thought possible. He would die for them in an instant. Would do anything to give them a happy life, a life they deserved. It was true what people said: it’s different when they’re your own. His world never felt so big and yet so small.
Heaven was waking up in a bed every morning with his wife cradled in his arms. Heaven was hearing his children’s laughter, watching them grow out of their shoes every few months. Heaven was simplicity of love in faith, family, and self.
He had always thought his soulmate lived in his house, but he found out that day that they lived in his heart. It hit him so hard that he fell to his knees right in the middle of the sidewalk. Images of a war he had never been in, faces of men and women he’d never met, bleeding and lifeless, swam up and choked his mind along with his lungs. He gasped for air like a fish, and he said his name out loud even though it was a name he had never spoken.
“Levi!”
Levi turned to him, sunken eyes growing wide in disbelief, and he too lost his footing. He stumbled back into a trash can, rolled his ankle into the adjoining lamp post and cursed so loud that several pedestrians heads turned. “Erwin!?”
And Erwin knew that was his name even though it wasn’t in this life. He nodded, wide eyed and unsure of how to use his mother tongue anymore. He was using a different language in his head now, and he used it when he spoke to Levi. “Where have you been?”
Levi returned the same language. “I’ve been… Looking for you.” And he was crying now. Erwin had seen him cry so irregularly, and it didn’t hurt any less in this life. He charged into Erwin, knocking them both onto the concrete, not even caring that people had to walk around them. “For so long.” Levi choked back a sob.
Erwin tightly wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Two arms, and with a smile on his lips. Oh… His right hand, his strongest, his everything. How had he forgotten? “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re here now.” Levi sobbed. “I thought it was too late. I thought I was too old…” His body heaved against Erwin’s.
“I’m so sorry.” Erwin said. And he meant it. Because he had a family. He had children. He wasn’t Erwin. He was Irvin. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Heaven was finding his soulmate in another life. Heaven was believing in a higher power to bring them together. Heaven was living in a peaceful world where their dreams could come true.
Heaven was not on earth; if this was heaven he would have been with him, he would have been his in this perfect, conflictless life.
tropes: dad!eruri, husband!eruri, eruri trust(tm)
that time levi forgets something important.
another story for “short stories about sad old men” > ao3 link
Levi watches the back of the train rush off, remembers every little thing he’s ever done wrong, for all thirty-five years of it, feels it solidify and fall straight through his body. “Fuck.” He says, quietly at first. He feels gutted, feels his mind floundering like a fish on shore. “Fuck.” It’s louder now, his eyes growing wide. “Fuck.”
“What is it?” Erwin is several paces away, stopping as he hears his husband curse above the chatter and announcements on the train platform.
“Fucking fuck. Shit.” Levi’s trotting down the long end of the platform, toward a train that he can’t even see anymore. “Shit!” He bends and puts his hands on his knees, shakes his head and groans loudly.
Erwin walks up and places two large steady hands onto Levi’s shoulders. He pulls the smaller man to stand up again, brings Levi’s back against him and bends so his lips are near his ear. “What’s wrong, darling?”
The gestures, the tenderness, none of it did anything to quell the panic. Levi drags his fingers down against the skin of his cheeks, and he’s shaking so much it rattles in his voice. “Our passports. I fucking… The bag. I didn’t grab the bag.”
Erwin gently turns Levi to face him. He cups his husband’s small face in his hands, sees the tears burning his eyes red and welling at the corners. They break and pour down around his fingers. “Calm down. You forgot the bag, you said?”
“Yes!” It comes out a little shrill, and he shrinks into his neck, embarrassed and pissed off and distraught all in one. “Yes.” His eyes downcast as more unintentioned tears cascade down his cheeks.
Erwin stands up straight, runs his hand against the backside of Levi’s head and draws him close to his chest. His hand pets the soft hair of his undercut. “It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.”
“What if we don’t? How will we get home? What about the kids? We never should have fucking left. I told you it was too soon after havin’ them to go on vacation. Now we’re never gonna see them again.” His voice goes muffled against Erwin’s peacoat, and he looks up at Erwin when he feels his husband laughing at him. “What the fuck, Erwin. This is serious! How’re gonna get home!”
“You are being dramatic.”
“Imagine Eren’s face when Uncle Mike needs to tell him that his daddies are never comin’ home.”
Erwin’s lips pucker in mock sadness. “I guess he’ll just need to get new ones?”
Levi slaps a hand on his broad chest, pushes him with enough force that Erwin has to balance himself. “You’re such a fucking asshole sometimes.” He stomps towards the exit, pushing his way toward the walking side of the escalator.
“What are you doing, darling?” Erwin calls after him.
“Gonna find a way home, dickhead.”
“But you don’t speak Japanese!”
“I’ll learn.” Levi says, but it’s so quiet that Erwin doesn’t hear it.
---
He doesn’t learn.
Instead, he has been berating the poor attendant at the information desk for nearly five minutes before Erwin finally finds him through the crowd. He’s relieved for the amount of English signs throughout the concourse, but it still took him several minutes to locate his small husband. He cuts in front of the line of tourists to reach Levi, who seems to have been making a scene.
“She won’t fuckin’ help me.” Levi growls. He slams his fist on the counter, making the woman behind the counter jump a little.
“It’s not her fault. She doesn’t understand what you’re saying.”
“But…” Erwin puts a hand on Levi’s shoulder and pulls the both of them out of line. He gestures the next person to go ahead of them as his eyes lock with the smaller man’s. They don’t say anything. Levi’s breathing is quick, his eyes frantic, pupils dilated. Levi barks again, “We’re fucked, Erwin!”
“It’s inconvenient, but we aren’t fucked.” Erwin smiles, and it relaxes Levi’s shoulders a bit. “If you want to be fucked, we can can make that happen tonight.” He kisses Levi’s sweaty forehead, tastes the salt on his lips, and laughs a little. Levi is smiling when he pulls away. With the back of his knuckle, he runs his finger down Levi’s cheek. “We picked the best country to lose something like this in, you know. All we have to do is figure out where that train ended, and they should be able to bring the bag to a lost and found. The chances of somebody stealing it is slim.” He cradles Levi’s chin in his thumb and forefinger. “Okay?”
Levi pouts up at him.
“We’ll be able to see Eren, Armin, and Mikasa again, you silly shrimp. They don’t need to find new daddies. They’re stuck with us whether they like it or not.”
Levi nods shallowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Erwin is pulling out his phone, starts typing into it as he goes back into line. “This trip was getting boring.”
“You’ve been having more fun than me, you liar.” Levi walks up, wraps his arm around Erwin’s and rests his head on his bicep.
Erwin brings the phone to his mouth and says: “We lost our passports in a blue bag on the train going toward Tokyo Station.” He sets the screen back and nods with a sense of accomplishment. They walk to the counter, and Erwin reads off the romanji on the screen, stumbling over pronunciation, but the attendant nods as she follows along. She pulls out some paperwork, gestures for his phone so she can use the translator as well.
“You fuckin’ genius.” Levi whispers next to him.
“It’s the best I could think to do.”
They make a few more messages this way, using the phone as a sort of rosetta stone, broken descriptions and instructions exchanging between them. They are going to email and call if they find anything. She estimates it will only be a few hours, that train runs on a loop and they may not be able to find anything until it goes out of service. Of course, if some kind civilian passes it in before then, they’ll know.
Levi is so giddy by the news that it’s hard for him to keep his hands off Erwin.
“What would I do without you?” Levi laces their fingers together, pulls Erwin so close that he nearly has to crouch as they walk.
“You’d be stuck here forever, I wager.”
“Yeah, probably. I’d miss you, though.”
“Would you now?”
“Well, like, for a couple of minutes. Then I’d just be happy to have a bed that didn’t smell like farts all the time.”
“That’s not all me. Eren helps too.”
“God, that fuckin’ kid… You’re all kids.” Levi stops them in the middle of the sidewalk, lips wide in a grin, and leans up to kiss his husband. “I love you.”
Erwin smiles against lips that he kisses again, lips that he promised to kiss for the rest of his life. “I love you, too.”
another story for “short stories about sad old men” > ao3 link
warning: chapter 80+ spoilers
Erwin swallows down his fear like an aged brandy. It kicks the back of his throat tasting faintly of every meal he ever ate, every drink he ever drank.
Now is not the time to feel. Now is the time to lead.
They’re crying around him--his men. Some have even shit themselves before they’ve had the decency to die. Dignity gets lost when you know you’ll die within the hour. The half hour. The minute.
But they follow him.
Every.
Single.
One.
RAGE, MY SOLDIERS.
The sound of hundreds of hooves hitting the ground resound like thunder. There is no rain, there aren’t even any clouds. The sky is so blue, so blue he sees his father’s eyes looking back at him. Sees the pride reflecting back at him. Such a smart boy. Too smart for his own good.
Erwin can smell the dirt, the grass, the pollen of spring flowers. There’s an open window and a vase of dandelions on the sill. The sun catches the petals. It’s all yellow and blue and white. He can taste the colors like vinegar, see the sounds of sparrows chirping from the branches of the tree he used to climb, feels the inky words of the book in his hands weighing down his fingers until they snap back at the knuckles.
He can see clearly, the plains before him, plains he hasn’t seen in over five years. They’re beautiful. They’re so beautiful.
SCREAM, MY SOLDIERS.
A death wail.
The knife is against their throat, they feel the steel pressing against their skin. It sears through them, their esophagus cracking open and pushing air out through the bleeding slit. It sounds like cartilage and sinew breaking, gargled and raspy and unanimous. They are going to die. They’ll die together, but they are all going to die.
Erwin raises his flare gun, pulls the trigger, pulls the trigger against the head of each one of his men. Over the sounds of their horses and their own screams is the sounding pops of flares going off, like fireworks. Gunpowder, sulfur, steel, dirt, pollen. His arms around his knees on the hill watching fireworks with his mother. She has a hand on his shoulder. He feels her warmth as she embraces him in the darkness.
He thinks of how little he knew his mother, his voice crescendoing until he swears his throat with ignite.
He’s in the front, he can see the plains, the sky, the quietness of the nature around them.
He can see the Beast Titan throwing his arm back.
FIGHT, MY SOLDIERS.
Erwin feels light, like he’s flying. He knows what flying is like--they all do. He’s tumbling and he sees the ground rush at him and he lands hard enough to feel his ribs crack and taste the blood well in his mouth.
There’s a coursing inferno on his side, and he remembers the feeling of losing his arm, and this is like that, it’s just like that. He knows he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding so much, and a shadow of a horse leaps over him before they too tumble a few feet in front of him. They’re still charging after he fell. They’re continuing without him. Flares popping, the black haze floating down above him like a supernatural fog.
His men.
It hurts so damn much to move, but he allows himself the pain to feel, because at least for now, he’s alive. He sweeps his head up, sees the line of titans falling through the haze, and he feels the pain. All of it. His throat opens up but it chokes, it sobs under the thunder of hooves and the wailing of men. He’s drowning in his own shadow of death, and he knows that now is the only time he can let it out.
The basement, his father, his mother, Marie. The things he’s done, the men he sacrificed. They were worth it. They were worth it to get here. Humanity can have a chance without him. So why does it hurt so much? Is this how they felt when they died for him? Thousands of them, faces upon faces throughout the years. He never knew…
Mike, Nanaba, Hange, Levi…
Levi…
He feels tears, and they’re the hottest for him. He tries to shout for him. He wants Levi to know. He has to know. Does he know?
MY SOLDIER.
The darkness drifts up to him like a warm bath. His limbs tangled with Levi’s as they wash the blood that doesn’t evaporate from their skin. There’s a quietness in his quarters as they think of the soldiers they lost that day. They’re not grieving, because they never have time to grieve, but they’re planning. What could they have done better to reduce casualties? How many were necessary? Levi kisses his chest, takes his one hand in his and eases Erwin into himself.
Erwin’s eyes open and he’s on the wall looking down for the first time, for the last time. Levi’s there. They’re looking out on it together, alone. Levi looks at him and the moon shine carves a sharp corner next to his lips. He’s smiling, and Erwin is too. They’re alone, and they say silent words that drift on the evening air. Levi takes the brooch and puts it in his pocket, and he looks like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t. It had been Erwin’s mother’s. It said enough.
He hears crying. He always hears crying. In the battlefield, on the training grounds, in the hallways, in the privy. He never hears Levi cry, but he sees it. Rare, but heart wrenching. So vulnerable and ashamed, he brings his hands to his eyes and shouts at Erwin to leave him alone. Just fuck off, old man. Erwin never wanted to protect something so much. Never loved anything so much.
Even humanity was difficult to love more when somebody like Levi existed.
RANTING AND RAVING LIKE A BUNCH OF CHILDREN.
He’s drifting in and out. Death feels so warm, and it’s so inviting. It’s like falling to sleep after a long expedition. He won’t wake, he knows that. Not this time. But maybe that’s ok. He’d seen so… much… Too... much….
Levi’s voice is distant. Commanding. Strained. He knows. He knows Levi, and he knows when his voice is betraying his mask. They’re fighting. Who’s fighting? Is he fighting? Where are his men? Did they win? Why was… He… Ah. So tired…
Somebody lifts his arm and it’s so gentle. Levi. Levi are you there? There’s a grip now, but he almost doesn’t feel it. He’s so numb… It’s…
Teacher… Father… Titans… Remember. Remember. Memories. Levi. He’ll… Even in hell… He could be eaten a thousand… times… and he’d never… Ever…
another story for “short stories about sad old men” > ao3 link
Levi misses it.
He misses it every day, and sometimes he can barely even manage to get out of bed because he misses it so damn much.
On those days, every motion comes out gracefully, fluidly. Arms still strong, legs still thick, chest still broad. He reaches for a plate in the cupboard, his toes pointing, his hand sweeping up and grabbing the dinnerware. He glides with one turn, hair falling before his eyes, as he places it on the counter.
Erwin watches him over his newspaper. He has a tablet, but he enjoys the feeling of paper in his fingers. He’s been called old fashioned more than once in his lifetime.
The toast pops making Levi jump a little. Every morning he has toast, and every time he jumps. He’s always on edge, especially after he retired.
“Morning, darling.” Erwin says. It’s tired and soft, but it still has love in it. Somewhere.
Levi nods an acknowledgement, but says nothing. He feels he may choke if he speaks. So instead, he butters his toast and grabs a banana. He eyes Erwin, the dining table, the newspaper, their home, before deciding to stay at the counter to eat.
The heat kicks on, and Levi twitches again, his mouth moving to slowly chew his toast. The radiator clinks and groans, and he feels like he can relate. This old house, once renovated long before they bought it, but they have a decade’s worth of remodeling to catch up on. He wants to mention he picked out paint yesterday, wants to say he started the moulding in the spare room, but he just traces the edge of his plate with his eyes.
Erwin folds his paper and leaves it on the dining table. Levi will pick it up and put it in the recycling after he clips the coupons and reads the arts section. The chair squeals beneath him against century old wood floors, and he goes to the kitchen. He swigs the rest of his coffee, and places the mug and plate into the sink. His hands grip the counter edge briefly, knuckles flashing white, jaw growing tight. Sighing out of his nose, he turns to Levi and places a hand on his husband’s hip.
Levi stiffens, his chewing stops and his eyes go wide.
They don’t touch much. They don’t even sleep in the same bed anymore. Levi can’t. He just…
Erwin leans down, goes to leave a kiss on his husband’s cheek, to show him that he can love him if he would just let him… But Levi turns his head. Erwin breathes a sigh out again and straightens. He removes his hand, stands next to Levi looking down at him, not on him, and turns to leave into the foyer.
Levi stands at the counter, feeling the ache in his muscles, the pain in his feet, the emptiness inside his heart. He wants to feel it again, he wants to feel it all again. He spins on the ball of his foot and watches Erwin down the hallway. Erwin’s putting on his shoes, his blond hair falling softly into his eyes--eyes that are wrinkled with crow’s feet and deep set with too many nights alone.
Levi opens his mouth to say something, to tell him he loves him… He just doesn’t love himself. He supposes he never has. But the dancing helped. It used to help. That’s gone now and he can’t.
He just…
“I’ll be home late,” Erwin says, eyes focused on tying his dress shoes. “I’ll find something to eat.”
Levi nods.
Erwin looks up, and although they wear masks, his default one looks sad now. He never used to look like that. He used to be strong, stoic. Handsome. “I love you.”
He’s old now.
Levi nods again. He’s old too, too old to dance. Maybe too old to love. They aren’t grey, they don’t have paper skin, but he can’t dance and that…
Erwin picks up his briefcase and rests a hand on the doorknob. He gives one last lingering gaze back at his beautiful, small, graceful, smart, and terribly broken husband. He nods back and leaves the house.
The radiator keeps clicking. Levi doesn’t finish his toast. He slips to the floor staring at the front door until the sun fades away and his eyes grow too sore and raw from tears.
He used to dance. He can’t anymore. And he is nothing.
trope: first times, comfort in solitude, canon references in modern au
that time they share a year of holidays together.
another part of “short stories about sad old men” > ao3 link
They meet on New Year’s.
They are two men that don’t typically find themselves in bars--especially during the holidays. But they are single, and they both have things to forget, so they found themselves bumping into each other. Literally. Erwin grumbles, his expensive brandy having spilled across the front of his dress shirt. “Shit.”
“You clumsy oaf,” a voice sounds next to him. A small man, at least a foot shorter than Erwin, climbs onto the seat next to him. His head is heavy, his limbs loose, as if they weighed disportional to the size of his frame. It is clear he’s been here for awhile.
“Excuse me?” Erwin tries to control his voice, but he’s frustrated with himself. He wonders what he’s doing there, remembers briefly that situations like these were exactly why he left his drinking days back in his youth. Brows furrowed, he dabs a napkin to the growing stain on his chest.
“Oi. OI! Bartender!” The man slaps his hand on the counter a few times, rattling the glasses around him.
Oh great, he’s belligerent too.
“Get ‘nother one of whate’er this tall fuckin’ sack of bricks wa’ drinkin’.” He slurs. Swinging his head, he matches eyes with Erwin’s, his body leaning on the counter, the heels of his shoes hooked into the supports of his bar stool. “An’ get me ‘nother scotch. Put it on ‘is tab. He looks rich.” He laughs at himself.
Erwin finds himself saying the words again, sharper and just a little angry. “Excuse me?”
“Di’ you know,” the man leans in, his voice rolling low, lips curling around the liquor that’s buzzing through his body. He coughs. Erwin notices he smells of full tar tobacco and something nautical... Sea salt? “Di’ you know… You can’t snore and dream at the same time?”
Erwin is about to get up and move away, but he pauses. His lips purse, then frown, until they finally end in an amused smirk. He places an elbow on the counter, his fist resting against his jaw, and his body turning to face his new friend. “Do you dream a lot?”
“All the time, eyebrows.” He slams down the rest of his scotch, and obnoxiously drops the glass to the table. “I don’ even need to be asleep.”
Midnight hit, and Erwin is tossed enough to let the man kiss him. It hurts when their lips part. He finds himself wanting them again, blaming the nicotine laced skin for their addictive nature. He leans in fifteen minutes later for another. Ten minutes, another. Two hours later, they are in his apartment, in the living room, because their bodies can’t wait long enough to make it to the bedroom. Sweating and moaning, their chests light, heads foggy. There’s the smell of sex carried through the scent of heavy alcohol. Even through his drunkenness, Erwin clearly feels the orgasm that shakes his body, hears the loud moan that escapes into the sweat sheened neck of this stranger. Just before passing out, he wonders if he’ll snore tonight, then drifts into a sleep as black and dreamless as he has ever known.
Erwin wakes in the morning, naked and on the couch, one leg poking out of the blankets and his foot flat on the wood floor. His drunken companion has already fled the scene, leaving nothing but a hangover, a phone number, and a name in his wake.
---
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He pulls apart a piece of his scone and shoves it into his mouth.
“We don’t have to, Levi.” They have been seeing each other rather consistently since that night, but only ever for breakfasts or dinners at various local shops. Erwin wants something more official… More ‘date’ like.
“Valentine’s Day is for insecure women and prostitutes.” Levi tugs at another piece of scone, decides against it, places it on his plate and picks up his tea to take a drink. “I’m neither.” He shoves the discarded piece of scone into his mouth and chews.
Erwin thinks on this for a moment, a smirk carving deep into his cheeks so that his one dimple shows. So crude and honest. Though, he is a little disappointed that he’ll need to cancel his dinner reservations for the holiday.
“Relationships are fucking stupid.” Levi nearly spits his food out as he says it.
It’s too early in their relationship for something so romantic anyway...
---
Levi’s legs are draped over Erwin’s, his head resting on Erwin’s chest, their attention lazily focused on the television. Erwin’s fingers mindlessly trace the bones in Levi’s nape, moving up to pet the soft short hairs of his undercut.
“When are you going to clean up your fuckin’ apartment?” Levi’s eyes are trained on the TV, but his fidgeting tonight is clearly due to the clutter. It always is. Erwin’s learned that Levi likes organization, and tends to carry around a packet of disinfectant wipes in his back pocket anywhere he goes. Erwin’s apartment is small but modern, having been constructed in an old mill building. With loft ceilings and brick walls, the clutter of cardboard boxes stacked high against the tall windows only helped to exaggerate the mess. Even if the place were well decorated, nobody would be able to tell. Levi sighs, “It’s been months.”
“We should travel somewhere this weekend. Go to the Poconos.” Erwin tries to change the subject.
“It’s Memorial Day. It’s going to be crowded as hell with a bunch of other shitstains that think they enjoy the outdoors.” Levi scoffs, his legs twitching. “We should stay in and clean this damn place, or else I’ll stop coming over here.”
“Fine.”
Levi looks at him, dark eyes set and narrowed. “‘Fine’ to what?”
“I’ll see you at your place this weekend.”
---
Erwin doesn’t bother asking about plans for Independence Days. He’s heard enough of Levi’s rants about what’s so damn wrong with this country, shouting at Erwin when he suggests he should probably run for office if he hates it so much. On top of that, he knows Levi eats like a bird, hates when people over indulge, and thinks fireworks are shit and overrated.
So instead, Erwin spends the day off boring holes with his eyes into the boxes stacked in his living room. His fingers cradle a cigarette he found between the couch cushions, the end of it burning away without him.
Levi is a booze induced distraction, one that has somehow weaseled his way into his life tasting like scotch and nicotine. He’s addicted now, but he craves more.
He flicks ashes onto the floor and snuffs the cigarette out on the glass surface of his coffee table.
---
“By the way, don’t think I wasn’t going to comment on your idiot outfit today.”
“What? They say Labor Day is the last day you can wear white.” Erwin leans on the railing of the small boat, white shirt and slacks clean and pressed. His blond hair’s disheveled from their journey out into the bay, and his bangs are hanging in front of his sunglasses. Out in the Atlantic, the sun beats down on them harshly, and their skin grows tacky with a thin film of sea salt.
“You look like a failed navy commander.”
Erwin chuckles, “Well, at least I’m a commander.”
They’ve both grown tan over the summer, but Levi moreso. He’s always out on the sea. He says he likes coming out here to think... To feel free and untethered from it all. Erwin wonders if he comes out on his own. He had noted three life jackets under the seat compartments before they left. He’s never heard Levi speak of anybody else.
Levi pulls out a bottle of beer from the cooler and hands it to Erwin. “All I’m saying is you look…”
“Nice,” Erwin smirks, “I know.” He pops the cap off of his bottle and passes the opener to Levi.
Levi snorts. “Learn some humility for fuck’s sake, Smith.”
“That’s Commander Smith to you. Admit it--you love me.” He chugs a throat full of beer, but nearly spits it out when he hears Levi’s response.
“Hah... Maybe.”
---
Erwin texts Levi to let him know he’ll pick him up for dinner at seven.
L: I’m busy tonight.
E: Be ready.
L: Asshole, what do you not understand about the word ‘busy’?
E: Seven on the dot.
Erwin arrives at 6:59, and Levi’s ready, wearing a pair of untailored slacks that hang a little bit too much over his second-hand dress shoes. A very apparent step up from his usual jeans and t-shirt attire. His fall weight jacket hangs large and loose on his shoulders, and a cigarette is hanging from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go, you persistent bastard.”
They go to a famous German restaurant in town, famous only because it’s only one of its kind within a fifty mile radius. It’s Erwin’s favorite. He’d been going there since he was a kid.
They’re three pints in, and Erwin is starting on his second slice of chocolate cake when Levi says, “Slow down, old man. Your body doesn’t metabolize as well as it did when it was younger. I don’t want to have to roll your fatass out of here.”
Erwin musters a pout, his fork spearing another piece of cake. “I’m not going to get fat.”
“Another year older, and still dumb as a fucking brick.”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Erwin says, sagely. He raises the fork to his face, the piece of cake slipping and falling to the table.
“What even…”
Erwin laughs, loud and booming that other people’s eyes wander to their table. The blush on Levi’s cheeks, his awkward birthday wish…
It was perfect.
---
Levi stands in the corner of the room, his arms crossed, one hand holding a red cup near full of beer. He’s a statue of discomfort, tired eyes slowly scanning the living room full of costumed people he’s never met. He’s wearing a pair of cat ears on his head, but that’s all he agreed to do. Halloween is stupid, and so is everybody else that participates.
Erwin is nursing the same drink he’s had since the beginning of the night. He’s wearing a pair of floppy dog ears, and his nose is greased in black. He chats with Mike, humors Hange, and catches up with Nile. He keeps his eyes on Levi, watches the discomfort rising as the minutes pass on.
He walks over, the fang caps over his canines catching on his bottom lip as he talks. “We can go.”
Levi stares at his chest, finally allowing his eyes to look up into Erwin’s. “I’m fine.”
Erwin’s lips press together. “Just let me say bye to everybody, okay?”
Levi sighs and nods, his fingers squeezing and cracking the plastic cup in his hand. They leave, and Erwin’s arm is around Levi’s shoulder as they walk home, sober and quiet.
“Mike has shit taste in alcohol.” Levi says quietly.
“It’s been like that since college. I don’t think he’ll ever change.”
“Ditch ‘im.”
Erwin chuckles softly. “He’s good otherwise, I promise.”
“Nile seems like a prick.”
“He… Well, he’s difficult, sure. Better drunk than he is sober.”
“And Hange…” Levi leans into Erwin, his arm wrapping around the taller man’s waist, fingers slipping in between his belt and pants. “What the fuck were they high on?”
Erwin laughs and says, “Life.”
Levi gives Erwin a withering look. Erwin does his best to take it seriously until Levi slowly turns away, facing forward. Erwin does the same. Secretly, they both smile.
They’re quiet until they’re a block away from Levi’s apartment. “They’re all right.”
Erwin smiles and kisses the top of his head.
---
They both don’t make plans for Thanksgiving until the Tuesday before. It seems they did well dancing around the subject, until the outside pressure from coworkers and friends drew them to talk about it.
“You going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”
Levi lives on a teacher’s wage. He resides in a small dated studio, but it’s practical. Always immaculately cleaned. Erwin knows Levi loves his boat--has a certain affair with all things nautical. The single decoration in the common area is a wooden anchor hung above his futon. He loves cooking as well, and has a relatively expensive assortment of cook and serveware. Levi pulls spaghetti from the large cooking pot and drops it onto a plate. He shakes his head, his gloomy expression deceiving his words, “Hell no.”
Erwin wants to pry, but he feels like they may have similar situations. He has no offer to propose as a rebuttal. It’s a realization that sinks into the bottom of his gut. “Ah,” is all he can think of to say.
“I make a pretty good cornish hen.” Levi spoons some homemade tomato sauce onto the piles of pasta.
“I’ve made mashed potatoes before.” Erwin receives his plate, a weak smile on his face. “Once.”
“You aren’t touching shit in this kitchen, eyebrows.”
“Sure thing, captain.”
When he comes on Thursday he brings a store bought pumpkin pie and a bottle of wine. They eat cornish hens, creamed spinach, and steamed vegetable medley on the common room floor.
---
Erwin picks up Levi on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t planned, and Levi needs to get changed out of his pajamas before they head out.
On the passenger’s side floor is a bouquet of flowers. Levi curls up next to the door, not wanting to touch them. He tries to ignore the feeling in his stomach, hoping desperately they aren’t for him. But Erwin doesn’t go to pick them up, doesn’t move to present them. Instead, they’re driving, and neither makes the first move to talk.
The silence goes on for minutes, almost an hour, until Erwin pulls into what looks like a driveway. It isn’t until Levi sees the headstones poking through mounds of snow that he realizes they’re in a graveyard. He sits up, looking around until Erwin slows and puts the car in park. Levi moves his leg as Erwin grabs the bouquet from next to him. They don’t look at each other. The silence is heavy and deliberate, but it asks for nothing.
Levi watches as Erwin exits the car and trudges through the foot of piled snow, his long wool peacoat licking against the chilly air like a cape. He watches as Erwin bends down and places the flowers on the headstone. He watches as he bows his head.
It takes him long time, too long he feels, to finally open the door and follow behind. He steps into the deep footprints left behind by Erwin, snow piling in and melting into his ill-prepared shoes. His arms are spread out wide to hold his balance, and he lands one heavily onto Erwin’s back just as he’s about to fall face first. He steadies himself and steps to Erwin’s side, his heart dropping as he reads the headstone.
Roderich Ezra Smith.
Levi notes the date, sees it’s only been a year. The boxes. The boxes, the drunken New Year’s, the quiet Thanksgiving. He reaches down and slips his fingers between Erwin’s, and tugs his arm slightly. He looks up briefly and sees the tear tracks on Erwin’s face but doesn’t say anything.
Erwin squeezes his hand, and they head back to the car, the whistling of the wind between naked branches singing them out.
---
“Oi. Wake up.” Levi shakes Erwin’s shoulder, and the bigger man snorts awake.
“What…”
“Wake up and a take a shit. We have places to be today.”
“But it’s Christmas.” Erwin protests sleepily. Again, they had made no plans for the day. Besides having the day off, he figured they were going to treat today like any other day.
“Just fucking do it?” The sting of Levi’s words is softened with lips against Erwin’s temple.
It takes Erwin almost an hour to get ready. The size of the shower stall in Levi’s apartment has always been difficult due to the sheer broadness of his body. He manages, gets out and shaves the stubble off his cheeks. He pulls on the red and green plaid shirt he had brought and ties a satin green bow tie around his neck. When he leaves the bathroom, Levi actually smiles a light toothy grin.
If there were ever a Christmas present Erwin could ask for, he got it right there.
“Are you serious right now?”
“You don’t like it?” Erwin eyes Levi in his ridiculous Christmas sweater, a giant smile on his face as well. “What about you?”
Levi doesn’t say anything, simply sways into his body and wraps his arms around him. He takes Erwin’s hand and brings it to his face, kissing a knuckle before saying, “We’re going to go see Furlan and Isabel.”
“Who?”
“My friends. Well, I guess they’re more like family.” There’s a hesitation in his voice. Erwin wants to tell him he doesn’t have to talk about it. “I did something really… Stupid. Something selfish. I fucked up real bad, Erwin… We haven’t talked in over a year.”
Erwin doesn’t pry. Doesn’t ask if those life vests were theirs, if they’re the only friends--the only people--he’s ever been able to care about. “Do they know we’re coming?”
“Isabel said there’s more than enough ham.”
Erwin finds out that day that Levi’s birthday is on Christmas.
---
They go to the same bar they met at for New Year’s, but they both only get beers for the entirety of the night.
“Do you remember what you said to me.”
“Eh?”
“You were pretty hammered, so probably not.”
“What did I say?” Levi takes a sip of his beer, looking curiously over at Erwin. In the dark lighting of the bar, he could see why he would have sniffed out Erwin Smith in his drunken haze. Those cheekbones, those damn cheekbones.
“That you can’t snore and dream at the same time.”
The corners of Levi’s lips lift slightly. “I wonder if that’s true.”
“You said you dream.” And Erwin knew now that Levi didn’t snore, so if it were true, he dreamed a lot. But that’s not what he’s talking about.
Breathing in deep, his fingers twirling a straw between them, Levi says. “Yeah sure. Nothing big, though.”
Erwin takes a larger gulp from his pint, sets it down and thinks of what next. They started off so hot, then their relationship grew so quietly. It was like leaving a boiling pot on the stove, and returning to have it at a simmer. He didn’t know how they got here. He didn’t know when he started loving Levi. “I always wanted to make him proud. That’s what sons are supposed to do, right?”
Levi looks up at him, emotional in its own emotionless way.
“I did it all. Got the education. Got the job. Got the money. Saved it all until I felt like I had enough for a family.” Erwin was staring off at the bottles of liquor along the back of the bar. “Before I knew it, I was old. Too old to raise a family, anyway.”
Levi’s voice was quiet. “You’re not that old, old man.”
Erwin’s mouth quirks. “Too old for him to be happy. We fought a lot. We were both too stubborn to apologize. Then he got cancer…” He sighs, palming his face in his hand. “I regret a lot, Levi. I regret not seeing him before he passed.”
Levi finds his throat dry, takes another sip of his drink to wet it. “Do you regret anything else?”
Erwin turns his head, catches those stormy eyes, searches them for answers. Every day with Levi was a surprise, a new day to learn something about the world, something about him, something about himself. They grew together in faint murmurs, tangled together in trust that requires little explanation. Together, they just were.
The bar around them began to get roudy, the final countdown of the year blearing against the walls. Erwin leans in, his lips brushing against Levi’s, cloudy eyes half lidded. “Taking you home was a choice I’ll never regret.”
They kiss, and it feels just as addicting as the first time, and they fall in love all over again as the ball drops into the New Year.
