A/N: I wrote this two months ago for the Ereri Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr and only now am posting this on FF. I don't really ship canon riren/ereri romantically, but it was a part of the request and I aim to please. ^v^;;
Prompt was older Eren and gentle Levi, mutual pining. I ended up writing more of a sort of clumsy realizing feelings stage, but oh well. Generic canonverse. Brief Jean with horrible timing. A brief mention of minor character death, so be warned! SFW save for an implication at the end.
Building Sanctuary
Part I
It's a few years later when Levi realizes that he doesn't need to berate Eren for failing to clean properly. In fact, it's not even Eren that really cleans anymore; now it's the new recruits holding brooms and mops and rags, clumsily going about their way in the hallways and pausing to salute as he passes them by.
They're fresh faces, most of them sharing the newcomer look in their eyes (mixed terror, pride, admiration, uncertainty, few others) that Levi knows well; ones yet to be quite broken in, teeter-tottering between being fresh out of training and showing the beginnings of a quiet, albeit hesitant sort of grim confidence that grows only with time. For now, the newbies leave much to be desired, but that's alright. Every one of the soldiers he now keeps close has once been at their place, and while he may not say it out loud, Levi has faith. After all, it may have been a few years since their first recruitment, but he's still catching the baby look in his own squad from time to time.
Such thoughts in mind, Levi gives quiet hums and nods in response as he walks down the hallway, allowing his usually brisk gait to slow just a hint and meeting the eyes of those who will, if briefly. This particular hallway is in fact one he likes better than all the others; it's one of the only walkways of their current base featuring a row of windows at one side, allowing light to filter through in the afternoons. He knows very well that it's also one of the most pain-in-the-ass areas to clean, especially when said windows require wiping down from the outside by one of senior recruits in gear. Considering the new recruits scattered about to sweep and the window at the end of the hallway left open, their supervisor must be outside to clean—
Speak of the devil; just as he passes the third to last window, a pair of boots-soon followed by a body-swing through the opening, accompanied by the sound of the 3DM gear retracting. It's a smooth landing, Levi has to admit, but his expression barely twitches as he pauses his gait to let said senior recruit through. He doesn't expect any less.
"I hope your cleaning is on par with this level of showing-off," he begins.
The supervisor, who's been bending slightly to dust himself off, straightens. Levi has to lift his chin a couple centimeters to meet his gaze, though being who he is he manages to make the movement subtle, watching Eren finally notice him and break into a grin. He salutes.
"Corporal."
(Compared to the new recruits in the background, it's more than obvious that Eren is older. Not by much in terms of age, but by the extra head he's got over the other boys in the hall, his shoulders, broader and pulled back all the way; how the man-brat has begun to fill his uniform, the look in his eyes-yes, the baby look lingers there but it's not the same. The man-boy isn't an eyesore.)
"You won't be disappointed," Eren continues. (Voice too, words enunciated deeper and smoother over the chirped Corporals from the younger recruits.) "They report to me when they're finished—then I check over their work before letting them go. You've taught me well if anything, sir."
The twinkle in the grown brat's eyes makes something in Levi stutter, so he snorts. The light doesn't fade at his reaction, not anymore; in fact seems only to grow brighter. Impudent boy.
"I would hope you learned something over the last few years. I'll come around again to check. Try not to embarrass yourself in front of them-be prepared, brat." With that Levi crosses the couple meters left between them, sets a brief hand on Eren's forearm as he passes by, and that's that.
(If there are any lingering thoughts of the afternoon light catching dark hair, now tied back in a thin ponytail, or the way green eyes, among others, follow his back until he turns, or even the flicker of the knowledge that Eren is mostly admired among the cadets, they're filed away as mere details.)
(What none of them tell him, however, is how strict the still-grinning Eren is known for being among said cadets over cleaning. Not much else, just cleaning. What Eren doesn't know either is of all the jokes going around calling him the clean freak…and so the newbies will remain newbies for a just little while longer.)
Levi returns half an hour or so later to a sparkling clean hallway, lights shining through almost unfiltered through carefully washed windows. Eren seems to be alone, gathering his cleaning supplies to put away.
It meets his standards, as it has over the past few years. The brat knows it. And that look of pride rather than smugness-masterfully hidden under yes sirs and of course, Corporals and brighter eyes-still has the potential to grow cocky if he doesn't stamp out unnecessary arrogance, so.
So Levi doesn't. Doesn't beat him in or berate him, only gives a nod and orders to check over the rest of the floor. Because it's alright do so now; alright to trust this brat to have grown into his limits and boundaries. Knows Eren relishes in the bits of trust given to him—no, he doesn't need to know it to give it to him. Eren has grown older and so has Levi; if the years yield more between them it's only fair.
Part II
Come years between them or months, the tradition of Eren bringing tea to Levi's room in the evenings hasn't changed. A tray of steaming tea balanced carefully in hand, Eren knocks at the door. When there's no response, he doesn't call again for an answer as he might have done a few years earlier; he only turns the doorknob (it follows and the door gives, as expected) and quietly makes his way inside. It's not often that he comes across the corporal like this, and he doesn't waste his accidental gift.
The corporal is leaned back in his desk chair, arms loosely crossed, head tilted to one side, typically alert eyes closed in sleep. Unplanned for, most likely, but that's just fine; Eren does his best to bring tea at consistent times, and it means Levi was expecting him.
Careful not to make a lot of noise, Eren sets the tray on the desk and retrieves a blanket from the corner of the office. Its appearance is rather recent; he's only seen it being used a couple of times, covering the man's legs to help keep warm during the nights when work runs late.
Does he get cold easily? He wonders then, quietening his steps as he approaches the sleeping figure. Unfolding the blanket, he holds his breath as he gently sets it over the man's front, gingerly tucking the edges behind his shoulders. Levi shifts, slim brows furrowing for a moment—just when Eren thinks he's woken him he settles again with a soft hum.
To such a candid sight Eren doesn't think he wants to let go, but looming over him at this distance will surely wake a seasoned soldier. It doesn't mean he won't make the most of this allowance, won't memorize the way dim lights flicker against the man's sharp features, won't commit to memory of his still striking presence.
Forward, forward, forward; look back when necessary, but do not regret.
Eyelashes, just as dark as his cropped hair, longer and more fragile than one would have assumed without attention to detail; the darkest of dark browns, not quite jet black, glistening under the first rays of freedom when they advance beyond the walls, and with the image his voice too rings in his mind-do not fall two horses' lengths behind me. Eren is not one for detail; raging forward, passion, heat and soul, that's just who he is, and born in a world where constant death does not leave time for longing, he does not remember details. He carves the few he cannot bring himself to lose into his heart and hopes; waits; look forward.
Still how is it that looking forward always yields the corporal's back, Eren wonders, fingertips barely brushing the forehead of the strongest, mindless in his touch; he looks years younger when he sleeps. Pale cheeks flushed with life and just slightly furrowed brows and he's lost in this peace, how strange; he and his kind, his comrades, die for peace, for peace to them is violence, and he's basking in the same warmth without spilling a drop of blood.
Perhaps it's just the corporal's presence—Levi, small and slim and sure despite the constant uncertainty ahead—or perhaps it's just him, but the sleeping man's presence has shifted in meaning since their first encounter. And Eren wishes—he wants to linger, like this; Levi's back means more than a superior in rank, but presented with his sleeping face, his human vulnerability, he doesn't want to leave.
Levi does not regret—at least, he tries. Since the day of his assassination attempt, since the day of Isabel and Farlan's deaths and the day of his rescue, he does not regret. Not regretting is a delicate balance of the past and the future-his philosophy-and the days when he thinks he's got it down are always the times that he loses his balance. Regret and looking back are two different monsters. He's allowed to look back, perhaps relive the past, briefly—but he does not dwell. Should not.
Then why, he wonders, have I placed him behind me?
Do not fall two horses' lengths behind me. His own words echo in the back of his mind. Eren is still his subordinate. He is still his guardian, entrusted with the fate of this life; both guardian and fated executioner. To reach him Levi has no choice but to look back, to command him to follow; surely, on the day he must fulfill his promise he will look back. And in the days after he will look back again and find nothing in the monster's place.
But Eren is not a monster; he only tests the scale, takes Levi's balance in young, broad hands and holds his breath, smiling at him in that stray puppy, baby look he likes to fall into, mellowed out into an expression a little less lost only by the years. Eren makes him not only look back but linger; more often than not, leaves him to wonder where to draw the line between regret and humanity in face of bright eyes that never lost their fire. How far is he allowed to look back? How deep before he slips into regret?
Levi doesn't think he can answer these questions. Doesn't know how. If he knows one thing—it's only that he won't regret. Not Eren.
And so when he wakes to feel fingertips brushing his forehead, shifting gently through his hair, he doesn't pull away; only opens his eyes.
Steel eyes catch Eren off-guard and he stutters on his next breath but he keeps frozen in his place. He—should move. Needs to move. Off.
"Levi—" he begins unthinkingly, and the man in question quirks an eyebrow. By name? Isn't that new.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry, uh, sir, I didn't—" Eren tries again and watching him fluster strikes Levi of memories when they first met after the court trials, the way he flinched and blushed to the tips of his ears. Years later it's pretty much the same, the same flush brightening the tips of ears peeking past longer hair.
"I didn't say to move, did I?" Levi says calmly. The reaction he receives shouldn't be so ridiculously endearing for someone of Eren's age, or his age, but watching the half-grown brat freeze on the spot, bright eyes widening, the flush threatening to creep down his cheeks—oh it's worth it.
"S-Sir?"
"Say it again."
"Say what again—"
"My name, brat."
Eren looks torn between nonplussed and just plain confused. He starts to draw his hand back. "Sir—"
Levi grabs the hand, warm, keeping it there. His grip is firm, but not tight. "You're not deaf. My name."
"Levi-?"
Dark eyes seem to soften and Eren lets out a relieved breath, unintentional and enough to make him flush again.
"Aren't you going to ask for an explanation?" Eren tries. He can't quite pinpoint the expression on the corporal's face for a moment, but then he suddenly realizes it's curiosity. The corporal is only looking curiously back at him. Neither is he letting go.
"Should I?"
"I mean, aren't you angry, sir?"
"Levi."
"…Levi."
Another pause.
"Uh. Should I go?"
Levi doesn't miss a beat. "Are you an idiot?" Eren is saved from having to respond by the man himself. This is moving so quickly, for even him, he has no idea how to answer. "Eren," he says again, drawing fiery green eyes to his own, and while something instinctive inside him relishes in the small victory, he loosens his grip. "Would you regret this?"
Soft—the look in eyes that were never apathetic or cold; they're soft. Eren doesn't know what to make of this realization, only knows that he can't escape from it. Not this sweetness in midst of turmoil, the miniscule opening to his yearning; subtle but palpable once realized. How had they even gotten here?
"No, never," Eren says honestly. "I just don't understand why you'd—"
"Why did you?"
Why had he? How could he explain the pull? Admiration and loyalty turned to trust, the continuous desires to get close that follows with such feelings, to step closer to the impossible, to reach and touch, to draw the beauty before him back, selfish, undeserved, but all the years of longing, he. To think that the corporal himself had been the same, waiting—
"Eren," his name is a breath and Eren lifts his gaze, catches dark eyes. He's never been allowed to get so close. "Stay."
It's not an order, it's a request. A choice. A gamble; a balance. Levi doesn't know if it gets through to him.
"If I stayed, would you be happy?"
The question takes Levi off guard. He takes a breath, opens his mouth to reply, then—
"Oh my god."
Two pairs of eyes dart immediately to the source of the voice—the door that had been neglected to be shut properly when Eren had first entered the office, hands full of hot tea—and the owner clamps a hand over his mouth, paling rapidly.
Eren takes a step back, voice tight. A tiny part of him can't help but feel relief. Horseface, for once with horribly perfect timing. "I'll kill him."
"Eren!"
Green eyes, blazing with fire, meet unsettled grey and they soften, minutely.
"I'll be back, I promise. Corp-ah, Levi-please, let me do this again, properly."
And a part of Levi can't help but wonder if this is an excuse, if the door had been left ajar on purpose, if Eren is reacting like this just because it's convenient. Homicidal feelings would come later for certain, but for now he can't help but wonder.
Then Eren reaches down, tilts his head and takes him off guard once more, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. Pulls back and smiles, the bastard. Levi could order him, could force him to stay, but that would ruin the whole point.
"I'll come to you, Corporal," Eren says apologetically. "Your tea is getting cold; let's pick up in a bit."
A bit ends up being the week (and a punch) after, but that's okay.
Eren tips his head, angular face fitting the harsh crook between Levi's shoulder and neck, perhaps not a perfect fit, angles too sharp and awkward between the two of them, still an old broken puzzle; green eyes watch sinewy muscles flex and stretch to give him room and he closes his eyes, lips barely brushing against taut skin.
Stay with me.
He hears one of the softest sighs; a sound he wouldn't have caught should he not have been concentrating wholly on the beauty laid out before him; humanity's strongest is vast, not undamaged, heavy despite a slim form (unlikely, an unknown, a mystery) and strangely softer than calloused.
Let me meet you in the middle; look back but far not enough to regret, rush forward but not enough to pass.
It's alright, they haven't quite figured it out, but it's okay. They still have to put to words what exactly are their wants and needs and boundaries, where they blur and where they stand. But in a place where the future is uncertainty, finding a momentary oasis where they are invincible, just barely tamable fire and silent intensity, isn't so bad.
((Yes, there are a bunch of mistakes, holes, and open-ends. ^^;; I think it would have turned out better as a whole if I added more to it, but I was rushing to meet the deadline...for which I proceeded to be late anyway. XD I did have scenes in mind with Hanji noticing a change in demeanor in Levi (probably before Part II), a scene with the Shiganshina trio noting a similar change in Eren, the alluded scene with Eren's "let's pick up in a bit"-generally to give Eren and Levi some more time (and more characterization OTL) before the conclusion. Would you guys be interested in seeing such scenes?
Overall the fic is still a bit rough around the edges, but for a first SNK fic, I think it turned out alright. Thoughts? Constructive criticism, likes and dislikes, Heichou-style "not bad"s are always appreciated!))