AUTHORS NOTE:

Obviously SNK is not mine or else I wouldn't be reduced to writing crack. Honest to god this story began with the random idea of what kind of parent Levi would've turned out had he been born not in titan-torn world but rather a more modern, more forgiving universe. Imagine the bossiness, possessiveness and sheer bad-assery. That's it. I know. What can I say? Muses are really, really, REALLY weird.


THE HITMAN'S BABY

"If I could get a firm grip on reality I'd choke it."

- ANONYMOUS


His latest contract was finally completed.

The body on the floor appeared just as specified in the contract that has been sent through his usual contacts: the target's possession intact, the scenario pristine and undisturbed and the body on his bed atop his sheets, clad still in the work clothes used earlier that day; unmarked save for the ragged lacerations that marked both wrists consistent with an amateur's messy attempt and consequent success to commit suicide.

There were no visible trace of anything amiss and he was doing post-op check to insure that no forensic detail would escape his discerning eye. There would be no point in doing a job and then do the utterly asinine mistake of assuming that forensics won't try to find out if there's any evidence of foul play. It was par for the course whenever powerful men died so suddenly.

Running an expert eye at the scene, he decided that the tableaux he created was perfect-perfectly flawed as could be deduced from a man that decided to take his own life.

He then turned his critical eye towards the slowly cooling cadaver in front of him and noted absently the quickly drying blood that's clotted on the man's mangled wrists. Physically they were the only visible proof for cause of death. Well that, and of course the one that's nearly impossible to see if one didn't have a cause to look for it in the first place.

No matter how thorough the autopsy would be—and he was damned certain it would be, given who the victim was—they would never suspect to check on the near invisible puncture dot that he placed the man's scalp, concealed right on top of a larger than normal mole that's hidden beneath the man's thick locks. The tiny pinprick that guaranteed to fade to nothing in two hours—enough time for the body to cool down and erase the only taint that might otherwise make the dead body memorable in any shape or form.

No note. No message. Phones still left charging.

The lone shadow inside the apartment shifted to wipe away the faintest impression of a smudge that was left behind as the man brushed against the bedside table as he was bodily hauled to his bed and later posed by a pair of skilled, professional hands. Dark eyes swept across the room and carefully appended the contents of the man's pockets around the man's personal space, reconstructing the expected scene of a man who for reasons he alone would know suddenly decided to take his life: wallet dropped uncaring on the floor, keys and other paraphernalia tossed carelessly on his bureau. In the kitchen a single shot glass of whisky is all that remains of a newly opened bottle-the protective casing around the cap and the cap itself will be discovered lodge beneath the bar stool-seemingly dropped there by unsteady hands that were too busy and too eager for their content to care about where caps and casings dropped. A small bucket of melted ice water already trickling a puddle right next to the bottle would prove that the man spent some time drinking to build up his nerve...a fact that would later be proven fact when his autopsy would mark his blood alcohol level to be high enough to fell a horse let alone a small man.

A final sweep and the shadow gave a short, sharp nod. A look outside the balcony doors of the apartment confirmed that he has been working for nearly two hours and the building has reached the peak hours when darkness worked its best feature. The apartment complex shuts down and all the residents locked it. Perfect time to make an exit.

Sliding the doors open, the shadow wiped the doors down before carefully closing them, listening for the tell-tale click of the lock engaging. With a swift turn, he faced the terrace that faced the small alley that would lead to the building complexes parking lot and the nearby corner where the building kept its huge trash receptacles.

With a deft hands, the figure launched himself over the steel railings and carefully made his way down from the targets seventh floor dwelling. Careful handholds from conveniently placed decorative trellises from the neighbors below made the action relatively painless and easy and the shadow allowed himself a quiet snort.

Such fanciful and ostentatious fripperies always aided his nighttime raids and it's a wonder not a lot of them were getting robbed or killed. It's like they're giving criminals a gold-embossed pass to just make an attempt. He was grateful-make no mistake-but the blatant lack of common sense offended his sensibilities.

With a grunt and a final leap, he landed on the ground, knees bent to absorb the impact and with a deep breath, straightened to his full height.

He was about to exit from the alley when he heard a distinctive rustling from behind him-specifically where the large garbage bin was located.

Turning slightly, he flattened himself against one of the walls, cursing the smell and the dampness that greeted his back-knowing that he was now pressed against something decidedly filthy didn't improve his mood. Eyes attuned to low lights scanned the small space and noted that one of the boxes near the bin was now overturned and something was pushing against it.

Sighing in exasperation for jumping at clearly noting, he waited to see if a cat or god forbid some other vermin crawls out of the box when the box gave a faint shudder and a cry sounded faintly in the alley.

For a moment the shadow wondered if he misheard. The box shook and the cry came again-this time a bit louder and more distinct.

That's not a cat. And if that's a fucking rat-that must be one the size of a damned raccoon.

For half a minute he debated whether he would succumb to curiosity or simply walk away. Instinct or some form of it prevented him from leaving and so with a sigh of disgust, he allowed himself to approach the mysterious box.

Crouching was out of the question since he didn't want to be surprised by a rat or cat in the face so with no clear option left, he used his food to nudge the box, checking if its resident was still present.

The box gave another shake and using his foot still. He checked the lid. It was taped down.

Huh. No wonder it can't get out.

Curiously enough, there were some holes punched throughout the box. He wondered if it did, indeed contained an animal its previous owner simply wished to dispose of without going through the proper channel.

With a sigh, he reached in to his jacket pocket and withdrew a small switchblade. A quick flick of his wrist and he made a small cut on a corner of the box-he didn't want to risk nicking the creature before he even knows what it is.

Reaching out with one hand, he grasped the edges of the lid and carefully peeled it open. His other hand kept the switchblade at the ready.

What he saw nearly made him see red.

The box didn't contain vermin or god forbid a feral creature that needed disposing. It didn't even contain a cat or even a damned pup.

The box that's been deposited with such careless disregard next to a smelly garbage bin in dank, damp filthy alley contained something far more disturbing.

Haphazardly bundled in a dirty blanket, tied with thin ropes and stuffed into a flimsy cardboard box is a living, breathing baby. And it was bawling its eyes out.

MERDE.


Two hours later, Levi Ackerman, moonlighting hitman and current Chief of Security for the SurveyCorp Group walked through the doors of his manor with an odd addition under his arm. The first one of the many residents of the manor that he encountered were his Personal Assistant and protégé who stared at the box with something akin to shock.

Petra literally stopped in the middle of her phone conversation to stare at him once she noticed his newest acquisition. "Boss, I received a call from the President and-Boss?"

"What?"

Isabel, one of the young trainees he'd sort of adopted gawked at what was he was carrying. "Is that a box—Big Bro, why are you carrying an old smelly box? Did you find a kitten or something?"

Levi gave out a snort. "Or something. Petra, do me a favor and call that Shitty Glasses in here okay? And get me Nanaba. I have a few chores for her to do."

"On it Boss. I'll just page the Doc."

"Great. I'll be in my room. Call me when they get here. You, go to bed, it already fucking late and you have school tomorrow."

"I was just waiting for you Big Bro!"

He gave the pair a short, brisk nod before he strode away heading towards his private wing, well-aware that they haven't taken their gaze off of him.

Once inside his room he made his way quickly towards the en-suite bathroom. Taking an assessing look at the figure still curled up in the box—thankfully this time sans the added bows of rope, he decided that his sink—custom fitted and both larger and deeper than the norm—would suffice in the meantime. Pushing down the stopper, he filled the sink with warm water and poured a bit of his soap-mildly scented and hypoallergenic into a new bath sponge allowed the water to be lightly sudsy.

Turning towards his newest acquisition, he reached into one of the drawers and withdrew a wickedly sharp pair of scissors that gave a faintly malevolent gleam beneath the bright overhead light. With a quick flick of his wrist he had the tiny bodysuit sliced in pieces as he gently peeled away the dirt-encrusted fabric and studied the figure wrapped in his arms.

The figure was tiny—but not ridiculously so, therefore not an infant but perhaps no more than a year or so at the most—certainly no more than two years old—maybe even less since infant size was something he couldn't assess with any degree of competency or certainty. He noted belatedly that it was a boy, something he wouldn't have immediately thought of since the baby had quite delicate slim limbs and delicate features.

As with everything he had had to interact with, Levi's brain was quietly and methodically cataloguing everything about the child in his arms as he tried to free the baby from the stained rags that clung stubbornly to his frail body resorting to the judicious and extremely cautious use of scissors to remove the tattered, clinging strips of cloth that could barely qualify as clothing.

Dark hair of indeterminate final hue. Will reassess after clean up. Eye color yet to be determined. Will await until baby is fully awake. Limbs seemed fully formed…all requisite digits present and accounted for. Thick, dark lashes, longer than expected for a male child. Well-shaped brows and nose. Cheeks chubby and smooth except for some spots of redness caused by unknown irritant. Insect bites and excessive crying as probable cause. A small patch of rash developing on damp posterior. Arms marked by ligatures due to the bindings. Must determine probable culprit and deliver suitable punishment for the fuckers. Application of medicated ointment to reduce swellings and prevent scarring.

Turning the slumbering baby, he noted a small inked mark of the small shoulder blade. He noted the location and with a careful balancing act, retrieved his phone and took a couple of shots to remind him later to determine what they were. Thinking of possible documentation that might assist in locating the baby's origin and the bastards who decided trussing a baby like a fucking turkey was a good idea. He made a mental note to inform his hunters to put out feelers in order to find the bastards quickly. He needed the stress reliever and the douchebags that hogtied this baby more than deserved his wrath. Better them than the random bad guy he would've otherwise picked out of hat.

Staring at the ink, he realized that they seemed more like writing of some sort rather than any artistic design or logo. Taking another mental note to run the design through the Corp's system, he proceeded with his initial goal: getting the baby cleaned.

Picking up the thoroughly warmed up sponge, he wrung out the excess water and gently scrubbed the small body cradled carefully in his arms. His eyes noted that the baby's lashes fluttered and plump lips parted to give out a faint whimper but still it wasn't quite enough to fully wake him up. The crying fit the baby indulged in when he caught his attention seemed to have sapped the last of the infant's meager reserves and so here he lay, passive even in the midst of a bath. Barely a minute or two spent contemplating his course of action and he decided that the best way to get the baby clean without doing both of them any damage should his grip slip was to lay the baby down on the counter on top of a towel and gently bathed him from there. It would free both of his hands and make the bathing process proceed more efficiently. Decision made, he pulled back his sleeves even further and made the necessary adjustments.

He bent towards one of the cupboards beneath his counter. Picking up a thick towel from the neat stack, he deposited it on the counter and then centered the slumbering baby squarely in the middle. Hands now freed, he took the sponge again and starting from the small hands, gently, slowly and thoroughly washed the baby, soaping the tiny fingers and toes. He scrubbed the tiny chest, down smooth rounded tummy; he ran the sponge around chubby legs and gently lifted the baby to clean the thin frail skin on the baby's back, patting the inked mark, wondering at its presence that faded a tiny bit but didn't smear.

Once the baby's face was washed, the smooth curve of his cheeks wiped clean of the faint tracks of tears that stained the chubby cheeks, he took another moment to rinse the baby thoroughly and dry the body before turning towards the head that was now giving off a faint unpleasant stench.

Using the glass that he uses for brushing his teeth, he filled with with warm water and he carefully wetted the thick hair, wincing when he noticed that the rivulets of water that flowed out was murky-hued. Carefully pouring out more water, and letting the strands soften and loosen from the dust, sweat and no doubt tears, he squeezed out a bit of his shampoo unto his palm-barely the size of a dime and lathering his hands, he rubbed his slickened hands around the damp locks, massaging the shampoo slowly and carefully until he could feel nothing but suds and soft tresses.

Cradling the baby in his arms once more, he brought the baby closer to the sink, allowing one of his hands to fill the glass again and poured carefully on top of the tiny head. Watching closely so that the suds doesn't get close to the baby's eyes and ensuring that the thick dark locks were completely rinsed.

Once the all the traces of soap was gone, be brought the baby to his room and placing it on his bed proceeded to slowly pat the small body dry, tenderly rubbing against the tiny feet and hands to stimulate circulation even as he used yet another warmed up towel to conserve what little body heat the tiny bundle in his arms produced. With a slightly more brisk move, he rubbed the surprisingly thick locks dry before running the gentle fingers through the towel dried tresses, careful not to put too much pressure on the fragile scalp beneath.

All throughout his ministrations Levi couldn't help but keep track of the steady rise and fall of that tiny chest-his sole assurance that the body he was cradling was still alive and not just a shell of something that has given up.

Realizing that he had nothing to put the baby in and thinking the living room might be a bit warmer than his vast bedroom, he wrapped the baby in one of his own soft flannel shirts, and cradled the baby closer to his chest, tucking in the precious body closer to his own before exiting his room to see if his orders have been followed.

Petra was busy noting something on her ever present tablet as she spoke to him, noting absently his return to the living room. "Boss, I was looking for Erd and Gunther so I can send them for some groceries...maybe some milk and a litter box of some sort-"

"Milk's a good idea. As them to go to a pharmacy-they might be more useful. What do we need a fucking litter box for?"

It took him half a minute to notice that she was gawking rather undignified at him before she let out a shriek.

"Boss! That's not a kitten!"

"Keep your voice down. I have fucking eyes, I know it's not. Did I say anything about it being a fucking cat?"

"But-but Boss! Where-do you mean you found that baby inside that box?"

"Fucking right I did. Now where is that Shitty Glasses when I need her? Fucking should've called it-when you don't need her she's all over the place and when you do she's-"

Just as he was about to rant at the apparent tardiness of his second in command, a tall bouncing figure burst into the room in a whirlwind of noise and color. Hanji plopped ungracefully next to him and pushed her face close to the sleeping baby much to Levi's annoyance.

"I'm here Grumpy Munchkin! You bellowed for me?"

"Shut the fuck up you heathen. Where the hell have you been?"

"Oh here or there!" she trilled as she rubbed her hands together like some disturbing cartoon minion. "Oh look the little darling's waking up!"

Levi decided to ignore her antics as he turned towards the bundle in his arms. "But damn time. I already gave it a bath and it didn't even-"

The baby gave a faint wiggle and immediately Levi found himself staring. It moved fretfully for a moment before limbs started to stretch out and he winced when he realized the baby would be feeling the pain from being trussed up for so long. As he predicted, the baby whimpered when his tiny limbs finally realized it could move freely. A few tears slid out from beneath the dark damp lids and mewling issued from the tiny mouth. Levi never felt more like gutting someone for causing something so innocent such pain. Levi cursed softly under his breath about bastards abusing children when the baby finally—finally stopped scrunching up his face and opened his eyes. Levi's breath hitched and he faintly noted the wheezing squeal that Petra emitted from his side but he scarcely paid it any mind. He was too busy staring.

"Oh Munchkin, look at those eyes! He's gorgeous!"

Levi has dealt with many things in his young life. He has faced death, darkness and depravity on a near daily basis since he gained cognizance of what it means to survive.

But he has never seen anything worth possessing as this brat with eyes the color of priceless gems. And then the brat did something unforgivable.

He fluttered his lashes and then twinkled up to him before the damned brat smiled and cooed at Levi, chubby arms lifting up as if to grab him close. Levi let his hands hover in front of the baby's face until small chubby fingers grabbed his own index finger and in the process sealed his doom. When the baby gave a trill of a giggle Levi was completely smitten.

"Oi Shitty Glasses.

"Yes Grumpy Munchkin?"

"Mike's around isn't he?"

"If it's close to dinner time you can bet your tiny angry butt he's here somewhere. Why?"

"Bastard's a fucking lawyer or some shit right? Got a good rep and everything?"

"The best. Wait—why would you need Mike? You have legal problems?"

"I think I'm about to."

"Aww, you're keeping him then?"

"Don't ask stupid questions Shitty Glasses. Of course I am. No one is taking him from me. This brat is mine."

"Ah, Munchkin, you've gotten attached! I'm so proud of you!"

"Shut the fuck up and get me Mike Shitty Glasses. Petra, where the hell is that milk? My brat is hungry."


The baby was chewing on the ends of his blanket and Levi was torn between cooing at the adorable sight and fussing at the mess the baby was making of himself and the unmitigated messiness of all that drool possibly dripping on his antique carpet.

"I think it's Middle Eastern."

"What's Middle—Precious, no!"

Hanji blinked at the endearment, turning towards her friend so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "Precious?"

"Don't touch that—I haven't cleaned that yet. Petra!"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Have that table moved. The corners might be too sharp and I don't want the baby to hurt himself. I told those fucking slackers to baby proof this room—where the hell are they? Also get me that box of baby wipes—he's drooling all over and he's making a fucking mess of himself. What is wrong with him—is he hungry? Oi, Shitty Glasses—do you think the baby's hungry that's why he's chewing his blanket?"

Hanji gawked at Levi before sputtering in amusement. Levi wasn't amused. He reached out and slapped the back of Hanji's head smartly.

"I asked you a question Shitty Glasses."

"Ow!"

"Don't shout like an undignified baboon Shitty Glasses or you might startle him. Now answer the damn question."

"He might be teething. The excessive drool points to that. If you don't want him chewing on his blanket get him a teething ring. For now, milk biscuits might help him. A bottle also wouldn't be amiss. We don't know the last time he had a meal."

"Petra—"

"On it Boss."

Levi looked away from the baby to flick a glower at his cackling second in command as she banged the keys on her laptop.

"Now, regarding that mark, can you read it?"

"No, but I put into through my system and we might have a list of the probably translation soon."

"Do that. I need to feed him anyways."

Hanji nodded and fiddled some more with her console while Levi proceeded with the feeding and cleaning of his baby. Levi picked up one of the bottles Petra dutifully supplied and with a quick check with a medical site, popped the nipple into the baby's mouth and watched avidly as the baby began to feed, conscientiously minding the drool that seemed to ooze out even as the baby suckled without restraint. Levi grumbled at the mess quietly when the baby finished his bottle.

"Messy little thing."

The boy gurgled and cooed at Levi, nodding and clapping his hands as he chewed on the biscuit Petra brought him. It took Hanji a few tries before she managed to get his attention.

"Levi. Levi!"

"I told you to stop caterwauling like a baboon. What do you want?"

"Got it!" Hanji declared triumphantly. She turned the laptop to show Levi the screen that bore the same image inked on his newest 'charge'.

"I told you to fucking tone it down, Shitty Glasses."

"Yeah, yeah. The mark—your baby's mark means saint."

Levi ran a gentle finger across the inked symbol and grinned when the baby giggled. "Saint huh."

"Well...it might be his name...we can have a list of different names that mean saint. But there's a whole clump of possibilities."

"What the hell are you lollygagging next to me for? Go and do that!"

It took Hanji half a night and the next morning they started to narrow down the possibilities. The baby, having been fed for the last day and a half looked remarkably better than when Levi found him. They brought him back into the living room since Levi refused to allow anyone to linger in his room for any reason.

They tried calling out all the names until they reached one that Levi found oddly appealing. Looking up at the baby whose gaze were locked on the small bunny that was placed next to him and he was busy gnawing and gumming the plush cover with apparent joy. Raising his voice slightly, Levi called out.

"Eren?"

The baby that's been largely ignoring them gleefully for the huge pile of plushy toys they plopped next to him suddenly became still. Dark fuzzy head swiveled and both Hanji and Levi found themselves holding their breath. Levi decided to call out again.

"Eren?"

Large viridian eyes tinged with the faintest gold rose to meet Levi and they filled with unparalleled glee. Raising short chubby arms, the baby waved to Levi and with the unmistakable intent of wanting to lifted into his arms waited until Levi came closer, mumbling and cooing like he was saying 'finally'. Hanji felt her friend suddenly become deathly still and she turned towards him in surprise.

"Levi?"

"Hanji..."

"L-levi? Are you alright?"

"I-I think-my chest hurts—I-I think I'm having a heart attack Fuck, this isn't right—I'm too fucking young to die."

"Ah—I don't think that's it. You just need to breath."

"I am breathing Shitty Glasses."

"Try taking deeper breaths Munchkin. It might also help if you blink."

"I can't do that—I might miss something."

"Oh Munchkin—you have it bad."

"What? Well, whatever it is make sure I get treated for it—I can't have Eren getting infected by it."

Hanji's jaw dropped and her eyes took on a wicked gleam as she gave out an insanely mischievous smirk, "Oh boy…"


Raising a Baby takes Priorities

FEEDINGS

"He must learn to eat things that he would otherwise turn away. He can't grow up being picky and besides it won't be healthy for him to eat just the things that he wants."

Levi leveled the women hovering next to him with a glare that could melt polar ice caps.

"You're a fucking doctor Shitty Glasses. Either hire a nutritionist to plan his meals or have Petra find me the name of a good chef." He waved a hand at the handful of white-clothed people standing stiffly against one of the walls closest to the door. "Isn't that reason we have all those idiots coming here for an interview?"

"Yes, that's why we have chefs coming in today. Fine. Have him drink milk. Plenty of it. We don't want him turning into a midget like you, now do we?"

"I grew up in a challenging environment where food is a goddamned luxury for those not idiotic enough to die, so shoot me if I'm less than a fucking telephone pole. Milk might be good." He made a careful notation on a small Moleskin notebook he carried with him before cocking an imperious eyebrow at them. "What else?"

Petra consulted her computer printout. "The mommy site I visited emphasized on variety and organic foods being best. He'll need fruits and plenty of vegetables too. A balance diet of protein and carbs. We don't know yet how energetic he would be so we would adjust accordingly."

"No mushrooms."

"Levi."

"My baby is not eating a fungus Shitty Glasses."

"But—"

"If I wanted him to eat something that tastes like dirt, I'd tell him. NO MUSHROOMS." After a bet he added. "No seaweed either or any of those weird fucking things idiotic people sometimes eat because they think its stylish or cool—stupid bastards."

Hanji cackled and even Petra gave a grin.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem, Boss."

"Fine. What's your stand on sugar, Munchkin?"

"If it turns him into an annoying train wreck like you—then, no. But he may be allowed to have a few treats if he behaves himself. I don't want any of those artificial shit, though."

Isabel hummed thoughtfully next to him, contributing her opinion for the first time since their session began.

"Maybe someone should learn how to bake Big Bro. Then we don't have to worry about artificial flavors and such."

The suggestion was met with silence before Levi started swearing loudly at Hanji that she should make sure someone in that damned line up better be a damned patisserie too.


TOYS

It was Eren's third birthday and everyone in their organization was eager to give their offering to the one that changed their boss so much.

Except their boss-like always-was being difficult.

"Auruo—why are you giving my precious Eren metal cars that's small enough for him to put inside his mouth and end up choking with? Are you plotting my baby's demise? Are you planning to kill my baby with lead poisoning?"

"Gunther, Eren is three—what the hell is he going to do with ropes and a grappling hook—hang from the ceiling? Is my ward joining the Circ de Soleil without telling me?"

"Farlan—are you planning to kidnap my ward? Is that the reason why you're giving him an escape pack? What is a three-year old supposed to do with a goddamned go-bag?"

"Kenny—you better run before I use those damned knives you're planning to give Eren to fillet you. Are you fucking insane? A stiletto is not a gift for a three-year old child! Wait until he's at least ten years old you stupid fucker!"

"Hanji I will scrub your entire lab if you bring that mangy mongrel even a meter closer to my Eren. We don't even know if he's allergic and I don't want him finding out by suffering from anaphylactic shock or when his flawless skins breaks out in hives. You too, Isabel! I don't want that yowling menace next to my baby. What if it bites him huh? Or fucking scratch his skin—he might be mauled and completely disfigured by that monster."

"It's a kitten Big Bro."

"Yeah Munchkin—this is a puppy—barely a pound in weight and all."

"I don't fucking care. It's alive, it's an animal and it will grow up to be big. No."

"Mike—my Eren is a small, adorable baby—born with a natural sweet scent. Why the fuck are you gifting him with perfumed oils like some cheap-ass hooker? What the hell would a baby need perfumed oils for when all he needs are hypoallergenic lotions and talcum powder?"

"Nanaba, why would my baby need climbing gear? Are you planning to truss him up and drag him up the slopes?"

"Thank you Petra. Please leave the plushies on the table and I'll see to having them washed."

"Boss, they're brand-new."

"Other people touched them. I need to make sure first."

"Fucking Bushy-Brows—my ward is three years old—why are you giving him stock certificates? And what's this—A beach house? Why, is he planning to be a beach bum for the rest of his life?"


LANGUAGE

Eren was playing in front of the TV when Levi noted what was playing on the screen. It had everything that the board of television censors warned children are NOT allowed to see let alone be anywhere near at.

"What the fuck is that?! Why that shit playing there! Turn that bloody thing off before my Precious sees that!"

The youngest minions around scrambled to comply and there was a mad rush for the rest to evacuate in the face of Levi's possible wrath. After two minutes, the room was nearly empty save for Levi, his precious baby and his personal crew. Hanji was cackling and Mike was playing guard duty for the day. Petra rolled her eyes as she quietly intoned.

"Language Boss."

"What?" Levi muttered distractedly as his eyes stayed glued to the smiling image of his precious Eren cooing at him while waving a small plush cat.

"Language, sir. You might consider toning down the saltiness of your language a bit."

"And why is that?"

Petra turned to her boss and clutched her tablet on her chest as she explained. "I read in a child-raising journal that Eren's at the age when he will learn to mimic sound and words and well…"

"Well…? Spit it out."

"Well, Boss, if all he hears is cursing—that's probably the first words he'll ever say."

Levi turned so quickly towards Eren that Hanji bet he gave himself whiplash. They watched as Levi stared at his ward for a full minute, hardly blinking at all and they all speculated at the thoughts percolating inside his devious mind. When Eren turned towards Levi and gave the man a sweet smile, cooing all the time, Levi visibly gulped and turned a bit pale.

"Petra, get me that journal."

She gave a pleased sigh and nodded enthusiastically at her clearly smitten superior. "Yes Boss. Will there be anything else?"

"Yeah, while you're at it, get me a big-ass container. I read somewhere something they called a swear jar. We're having one installed here."

Petra and Hanji exchanged a look and then blinked at Levi. Petra cleared her throat and asked quietly, "A swear jar Boss?"

"Did I stutter? Yes, a fucking swear jar."

"Boss—not to be a party-pooper but are you sure about this? A swear jar in this house?"

Levi pinned his assistant with his usual gimlet stare. "Is there a reason you're dragging your feet over this simple order?"

"Just making sure everything is clear. I take it, this is your solution to the 'saltiness' of the language here, sir?"

Levi nodded. "You're right. I can't have Precious growing up speaking like an uneducated street thug. He deserves better. I don't want some self-righteous snobbish pig to have reason to insult Precious for talking like he grew up from the gutters."

"That's very good of you, Sir. I assume the rule would apply to everyone?"

"Of course."

"Even you?"

"Yeah, I guess me too. I need to become a better example for my precious Eren. That also includes Shitty Glasses over there and Fucking Bushy Brows."

"And the rates Boss?"

"A dollar for every word."

"Oh Munchkin, this will be so much fun to watch."

"When will be begin Boss?"

"Oh? Well, why not the fuck now."

"Uhm Boss, we don't have the container yet."

"I see. Well, then we'll start when it gets here."

"This is going to be so good—that jar would be epic."

TWO weeks later…

Levi was glaring at his own desk like it did him some unforgivable offense. "Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea again? This thing will bankrupt me faster than those stupid fucking yahoos I allowed to train the recruits."

"Boss…" Petra gave her superior a look and Levi pulled out his wallet and handed it to her.

"Yeah, yeah, charge me later."

"Munchkin—is that?"

The swear jar couldn't be called a jar anymore. It wouldn't fit in the category. The thing was huge—resembling more or less a miniature stainless steel silo with one side made of clear industrial grade acrylic plastic that took up permanent residence at a corner of the main rec room. The 'swear' jar's window showed an impressive amount of bills already past the halfway point.

"That's the take for the last two weeks. If this continues, that kid would have a trust fund bigger than even the fucking Bushy Brows."

Hanji was chortling in glee. "Has he ever contributed to this slush fund of Eren's?"

Levi gave a devious smirk. "Caught him once. That was a great day."

"Why?"

"He ended coughing up five hundred big ones. All in the span of a single hour."

"Five?" Hanji whistled. "What happened?"

"I gave him the annual assessment of our foreign holdings. Shut up real quiet and then started a shitstorm that sent all the greenies greener than a field of fucking alfalfa."

"Boss…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know…keep tallying. It's still early and I haven't had the time to read today's report yet."

Hanji eyeballed the 'collection' in quiet contemplation for a few minutes before issuing a faint whistle.

"Levi, you know, based on the dimension of this 'jar' of yours, I'd estimate there's close to ten thousand dollars in there…"

"Yeah…?"

"Just how often do these guys run off their mouths? I mean if this is the take for the last two weeks—"

Levi grimaced. "I lied—that's the take this week. The first week it came close to fifty grand because everyone was too busy fucking complaining to realize it was costing them money."

"Boss…"

"Yeah, yeah, take a hundred out already. Tell me if I run out before the day ends."

"Whoa that boy is going to roll in it when he reaches legal age."

Levi grimaced before glaring at the object of his ire. "At the rate its going, Eren might end up owning the entire SurveyCorp by the time he hits middle school. He certainly has more money than I had and he hasn't even learned to stand up on his own yet."


CLOTHING

When Levi discovered that certain fabrics easily irritated Eren's sensitive skin, he ordered that all his clothes be only purchased from weavers who used natural fabrics. He disliked the sight of his precious baby's flawless golden skin being marred by any form of imperfection, even the temporary kind brought on by simple skin irritations.

They had to reorder everything that would be placed in the nursery Levi had converted from his walk in closet. The 'closet' in fact was the size of moderately sized room and so they had no problem remodeling it into a nursery room for Levi's 'precious' baby. The guest room next to his was later converted to Levi's dressing room and a stock room for extra things for Eren.

When Petra showed him her initial offering, he scoffed but allowed her to dress Eren. What she brought back out was something so enchanting Levi found himself losing his breath. Isabel who was lounging next to him cooed at the sight.

"W-wha-what manner of clothing is that?"

"It's called onesies. Or as I call them, footy-pajamas. Aren't they adorable, Boss? Look, there's snaps here so that you can replace his diaper without needing to undress him. It comes in a variety of designs and best of all—" Petra showed the "footy" part of the suit. "It covers the baby completely from head to foot that even his tiny feet won't get any dirt on them if he decides to go crawling. His entire skin save for his hands and face could be protected from dirt and—"

Isabel was already clapping her hands and waving at Petra to take a hold of Eren."It's perfect! And that design!"

And truly it was a sight that could rend and melt the most stalwart of hearts. The footy pajamas was designed like a small kitten with paws for feet and even cute tiny black ears and tail. Levi couldn't take his eyes off the vision of the sleepy figure of his precious kitten.

"Precious...Petra take my card...buy as many of these delightful creations as you can."

"Yes Boss. Should I buy one that looks like that teddy you bought him?"

"Is there one like that?"

"Yes Boss. There are lots of designs available."

"Then I expect you to have that as well. Buy him whatever you think is best."

"Yes Boss. What shall be my limit?"

Levi blinked at his assistant. "It's for Precious Petra. What's the limit for a Platinum Am Ex?"

Petra shook her head and decided never to ask again. Her boss was usually thrifty to the point of parsimony when it comes to certain purchases but mention Eren and suddenly she's left wondering if there will come a point when the platinum card in her hands might finally be declined.

SUIT-ABLE

Hanji was bringing a folder of documents for Levi's signature when she noted the newest trend in the manor's resident baby.

"Levi, why is Eren looking like a miniature Mafioso?"

"Because he wants to."

"What?"

"Saw a film. Asked if he could wear something like it. I told him yes."

"You're allowing Eren to wear a black mafia suit?"

"It's a suit. It's black. It doesn't necessarily belong exclusively for the use of the members of the criminal Underworld. The Mafia is known for being able to diversify whenever their fancy strikes. Besides, I wear a suit."

Farlan who was the day's guard chortled gleefully as he pitched in his ten cent's worth even as his eyes never strayed from Eren. His instructions from his Boss was clear—his main job was to guard Eren—even if the Boss man was sitting not four feet away from his precious and no one was suicidal enough to attempt to hurt Eren while the Boss was lounging like a languid panther next to him.

"Be thankful Eren didn't like Jersey Shore or some other nonsense shows. We had to go through every superhero, power rangers, and deranged animal character on TV. A suit is a lot less of a hassle, believe me."

"Oh Munchkin, that's so adorable. Eren looks so dashing."

"Of course he does. He looks beautiful in anything. Just hope he doesn't see anything else interesting. A suit is one thing. IF he starts demanding other things I'm handling the whole mess over to Petra and Isabel."

Hanji continued to watch Levi and Eren when her eyes fell on the tiny tie that the seven year old was wearing.

"Levi?"

He grunted. "What?" He gave a nod towards Pixis who brought another stack of documents for his inspection and sat in one of the plush armchairs to wait for his turn. His hands never stopped making notations as his eyes scanned the documents before him thoroughly.

"Is that a bespoke suit?"

"What do you think it is?"

"You're letting a seven-year old boy wear a Saville Row suit?"

Levi slashed another paragraph in the document he was reading, much to Pixis' chagrin. His eyes didn't waver from the paper in his hands as he answered simply. "I wear it, that's reason enough. Where else would I get him his suit?"

"Point. I mean, who wouldn't allow a toddler to toddle off wearing a suit that easily costs five figures? Especially since he's also gnawing on one of—yep, your ten-thousand dollar onyx and diamond cufflinks."

Lev finally raised his head from the stack of papers he was perusing to glare at Hanji when he caught up on what she was saying. "What the fuck are you talking—Eren! NO!" Levi vaulted over his desk, surprisingly avoiding upsetting the tower of documents on it and cradled the startled toddler's face in his hands, his deep voice soothing the boy's nerves, "No…No, baby, you don't play with those—you might choke! Spit those nasty things out! The pins might cut your mouth! Precious stop!"

Pixis, vice-president of SurveyCorp who sat there idly waiting for his document pile before Levi's rather surprising move was staring at the scene in confused bemusement. "That's what he's worried about?"

Farlan shrugged dismissively. "The cuffs are replaceable. Eren isn't. I've seen Levi destroy expensive things before when it stood between him and his baby. Remember that Queen Anne partner's desk that used to be in the smaller study? He reduced that to so much kindling when Eren got colic and puked all over his clothes. Believe me—he doesn't care if the cuffs are priceless. He'd toss those before he allows them to hurt his sweet Eren."


PARENTAL CONTROL

"Levi."

"What."

"Levi."

"I'm working."

"Levi!"

"Shitty Glasses. Can't you see I'm busy? What do you want?"

"Am I imagining things or is your precious Eren wearing a jacket made from the same smart fabric you forced me to develop?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I'm seeing a teenager wearing a jacket that's supposed to be made practically bulletproof and intended for soldiers fighting terrorist in some forgotten oubliette in the world."

"So why the hell are you telling me something so obvious?"

"Levi!"

Isabel bounced into the room with her usual manic cheer and waved towards the teen who was busy doing his homework on one of the other desk in Levi's main suite. "Isn't it cute Section Chief? The fabric you designed was so versatile we we're able to make use of it for a lot of our designs. Eren tests them out."

"Tests them? How many have you made?"

"To date? About six complete outfits."

"Enough for a week then?"

"That's right. He'll be testing them for this quarter."

"Isabel do you have any idea how much that fabric costs? Or what it's made of?"

"Big Bro said it's very durable. He didn't mention the cost though or why most of it is either in black, grey or white."

Hanji looked at Levi who was pointedly ignoring them and gave a smirk before jerking a thumb at the young teen. "That's because it's a proprietary product. That fabric is made of Kevlar and ultrathin carbon fiber. It's designed for combat situations. Its fire-proof, it retains body heat, allows the skin to breath and is virtually indestructible. It's the fabric equivalent of the Mercedes Maybach. And annoyingly enough, your brother insisted it must be hypoallergenic."

Isabel merely blinked before grinning. "Oh. No wonder he asked us to make all of Eren's clothes from it."

Hanji rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Figures. Millions of dollars on R&D just so he could have his precious protected by the smartest adaptable fabric in the world."

"Well, he hasn't asked us yet for a way to have it tagged right?"

Levi and Hanji both whipped their gaze towards Isabel. Hanji was gleefully cackling.

"Isabel! That's genius. I'll tell Erwin right away! A smart fabric that contains a gps particle! That's brilliant!" She ran out of the room rattling her ideas. Isabel shook her head in fond exasperation when she caught a glance at the look her boss was sporting and suppressed the urge to laugh out loud.

Levi gave Hanji's back a calculating look before he reached out and dialed a number. Isabel just got a hint that she'd be called on the design block again before the day was over.


DATING WHOA

Six Years Old

"Eren! Why did you run away?"

"She said-Levi she said that boys must marry girls! She said I hafta marry her!"

"Don't you want to?"

"No! I only love Levi! Levi is Eren's and Eren is Levi's! You said so!

"So I did."

"Then why don't you just marry me then? That way no one would take Levi from me. You'll just be mine like always!"

"You're too young yet to decide that, little one. Maybe when you're older, you can make a better decision."

"I won't change my mind!"

"If you say so. Well, if you can—I guess—keep that mindset until you're older, I'd agree to consider being yours."

"How much old?"

"When you're an adult—hmm…when you turn eighteen I guess and if you can still remember what we spoke of today then I will agree."

"You promise?"

"Sure."

"Okayl!

Fifteen Years Old

"I don't want to date anyone or escort anyone or anything of the sort!"

"Why?"

"I can't do something like that! Why won't you understand! I am already engaged!"

"What?

"Eren! When did you get engaged?!

"What are you talking about? You promised to marry me Levi! You said so when I was six! Was I wrong? Don't you want to marry me Levi?

"SO I did. Guess that settles that. No need to find Eren a date for the Prom. Send them away. None of them would do for my precious Eren anyways. Mikasa, dear, you can put away those knives now."

Hanji snickered. "God help any girl who expresses a fancy towards that poor boy."

Petra shuddered. "Can you just imagine the carnage?"

"Can you imagine it when Mikasa realizes that Eren's probably not kidding about marrying Levi?'

"Oh god help us—the two biggest Eren-obsessed maniacs battling it out for the hand of their Precious? Gods…we really need to make plans—like finding countries without extradition treaties with Trost."

"Way ahead of you—Levi, Erwin and I bought three separate private islands around the world."

"Good then—when worse comes to worst—and it will—we have somewhere to go."

"Thought so too."


TBC