Levi doesn't come to this side of town often. Why should he when most of what he needs is right by his apartment complex? When he does, it's usually to buy alcohol (he'd run into a student and her parents with three bottles of liquor in his basket one time – that was enough). Today it was especially important that he cross town to buy what he needed, because today, what he needed was condoms. Erwin had demanded the night before that they play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would go buy condoms the next day (which was admittedly somewhat childish, but Levi still thought it was kind of cute watching Erwin, musclebound and about twice his height, focusing so hard on a kid's game. So, if Levi lost on purpose, it wasn't like it was hurting anybody).
He and Erwin have only been seeing one another for a few months now. It's been going really well, so far. His kid, Jean, doesn't seem too pleased about his math teacher dating his dad, but the kid is sweet enough. Not too bad at math, either. A pretty hard worker. He's the light of Erwin's life, and the closer Levi grows to Erwin, the bigger his soft spot for the kid gets (and he hopes to God he'll never have to admit that to anyone).
The supermarket isn't too busy today. Good. Levi slinks towards the pharmacy, which has no business being all the way at the back of the store, by the way. Levi needs to get in and out of here as quickly as possible. He weaves in and out of aisles, carefully dodging displays, until he finds what he's looking for, the Secret Special aisle in the back of the store where 8th graders go to giggle. Luckily there are none here today. The box he needs (Erwin's size is always a little harder to find and Levi's been forced to buy unfamiliar brands for the past couple months) is far down the opposite end of the aisle. His gait quickens, fast, but not conspicuously so, until he reaches the box. It is in his hands before he has even stopped moving. He doesn't stop at all. He turns on a dime and speeds back toward the entrance, where the checkout lanes wait.
Levi considers himself to be a man of logic, so he's pretty goddamn pissed at himself when he realizes he hadn't considered the fact that, because there aren't a lot of customers, there is only one lane open for checkout. He holds back a sigh of exasperation, if only to avoid drawing the attention of the five or so young children bustling around with two of the families in front of him. Levi is about five customers back, he guesses. Most of the people in front of him have overflowing carts, large families, families so big they're blocking the view of the register from where he stands. He should have gotten a basket or something, damn it. He moves the box under his arm, shielding the more heinous parts of the packaging from the younger kids' eyes. Behind him, someone clears their throat. Levi shuts his eyes and says a prayer that has probably a few more curse words than God is used to.
Levi stares at the floor for most of his wait. There are magazines on either side of him that he could pretend to be interested in, but, no, he really can't bring himself to do that today. So, he admires the floor. Or rather criticizes it. There are scuffs everywhere. Probably why they chose such a garish tile pattern – so nobody would notice how poorly they took care of it. At least they waxed it though, judging by the sheen-
Another throat clears behind him. Oh, the line's moved. He watches the shoes of the person in front of him as they pay, watches them kick the toes of their feet gently against the tile, scuffing it and their shoe and Levi suppresses a scoff. The dull, unshined shoes make their way to the entrance, cart and children in tow, and Levi shuffles up to the counter, not wanting to put the box on that disgusting conveyor belt.
Levi pulls his wallet out of his pocket with the hand that's not wrapped self-consciously around a box of enormous condoms, and he looks toward the cashier, who is facing the other direction, squirting some hand sanitizer on and scrubbing his hands together enthusiastically.
Only one person Levi knows has that shitty of a haircut. Oh, God. Oh, my God. Levi turns, panicked, to leave, but the man behind him is blocking the way. He meets Levi's eyes angrily, clearly frustrated from the line wait and what must apparently be the complete incompetence of this man in front of him in line at the grocery store. Levi turns again, and this time the cashier is facing him.
"Oh, hey Mr. Ackerman!" Jean greets cheerily, smiling wide until he notices the look on Levi's face. Jean's eyes flicker to the box tucked under his arm and the smile fades slowly, and Levi gets to watch as every muscle that made that smile possible shrivels and dies a cold, dark death on Jean's face. To call the expression a look of horror would be akin to calling the infinitely expanding universe "pretty big, I guess."
"Hi, Jean," Levi mutters. The box burns in his hand, and Jean's eyes are still on it, they haven't yet broken contact, and so Levi impulsively tosses the box. It lands on the conveyer belt of its own volition, a sole item in a black abyss.
Eventually, Jean's concentration on the box breaks when it reaches him at the other end of the conveyor belt. He takes a sudden sharp inhale through his mouth, as if he had been holding his breath that whole time, and he pulls his head up, painfully slow, to meet Levi's eyes. Jean looks, in Levi's opinion, like he is seconds away from either tearing up or throwing up. Jean's gaze flickers away as fast as it came and Levi thinks for a fleeting moment that throwing up seems like it would be the best course of action in this situation. Jean's eyes are back on the box. Levi wonders wildly whether Jean's focus is drawn to the "Ribbed for her pleasure!" inscribed in italics along the side, or to the illustration on the other side demonstrating the aforementioned ribbing.
Finally, Jean raises his hand to grab the box. His hand stutters on his way to pick it up, pausing fully for a solid moment, and then Jean just closes his eyes and reaches blindly, fumbling with it for a moment and sliding it under the scanner with a speed he hadn't though himself capable of. The machine doesn't beep.
Eyes still closed, Jean hears Levi whimper out a "Christ, no…"
Jean waves the box under the scanner again, twirling it to every side. Still no noise of confirmation. Jean inhales deeply, braces himself, and opens his eyes.
The "XXL" etched into the box in bright gold is blinding. Jean definitely starts tearing up now. He turns the box to where he is sure the barcode will be.
A scratch. Someone scratched the barcode, diagonally, across its entire length, and whether it was some hooligan kid playing a prank or a factory error, Jean lets himself imagine for just a moment the person responsible for this burning alive. Jean drops the box, not bothering to set it down gently, all was lost now. It didn't matter. Jean's shaking fingers reach for the walkie-talkie next to the register and haltingly press down the call button. He steels himself, knowing full well he will not sound the least bit confident and pulls it to his face. In his periphery, Jean sees Levi shut his eyes and let his head fall back, sighing deeply.
"Can I have a price check on 12 pack Lifestyles Kyng XXL c-condoms?" Jean's voice is about as unsteady as he expected it to be, he even stutters a little bit over the word condom, like a fucking 8th grader.
Levi hears the crackle of the walkie-talkie, someone on the receiving end responding.
"Copy," the voice sounds, and then the waiting begins.
Levi figures he should say something. It feels like the right thing to do, but at the moment Levi's pretty sure he would rather take a rabid wolf in a tender embrace than openly acknowledge what was happening.
As it turns out, neither Jean nor Levi are the first to speak. The man behind Levi in line mutters a low complaint about "the piss-poor service in this place."
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
Jean and Levi looked at one another, mildly shocked at their tandem apology. Temporarily distracted from the matter at hand (thank God), Jean tears his gaze from Levi and turns back to the customer.
"We're a little short-handed today. Sorry, it'll just be a second," Jean says, and it comes out significantly more confident than he expected. The customer huffs but nods anyway and pulls out his phone.
As if on a timer, the walkie talkie scratches out a response.
"Price on Kyngs is $12.75."
Jean picks the talkie back up and mutters a quick thank you before manually entering the price into his decades-old register.
"$12.75," Jean says, voice clear.
Levi, whose wallet has been at the ready for a full minute now, if not longer, finally fishes out a bill and hands it to Jean, careful not to let their hands touch. Jean fiddles with the keyboard of the register again and after a few seconds the cash drawer pops open, and Jean pulls out a few bills and a handful of coins. Levi holds out his hand, bracing for the touch, but it doesn't happen. Jean puts the bills down as a blanket, carefully avoiding the brush of even a fingertip against Levi's palm, and then pours the change into the cupped bills in Levi's hand. The receipt follows suit.
Jean's hands, Levi notices, are light and nimble when moving the box into a bag. He is allowing the minimum possible amount of contact with his hand and the box. The box finds its home in the plastic bag and Jean picks it up, breathing carefully, and hands it to Levi.
Levi takes it, closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and lowers his head.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers, and he has perhaps never meant that phrase so fully and completely as he did now.
He does not see Jean's expression when the words leave his mouth because his eyes are still closed, and his face is still facing the ground. After a moment, though, Jean responds and Levi doesn't need to see his expression to know what that face looks like.
"It's, uh… Tell dad I'll be at Eren's tonight."
"Yep," Levi responds without a beat, and he walks away, not able to bring himself to so much as nod a goodbye to Jean, let alone look him in the eye again. Behind him, Jean cheerily greets the next customer and apologizes for the wait. His pace quickens, and by the time he reaches the store exit he's going at a light jog.
When he gets to his car, he tosses the condoms in the backseat, over his shoulder, without an ounce of concern about where they land. Levi takes two uneven breaths and bends over until his forehead is touching the hot leather of his steering wheel.
He stays like that for a while, just thinking.
Why did things like this happen to him? Why did they happen at all? Levi has been a teacher for years, he has seen some shit, but this was hands down the most mortifying experience of his life. For the briefest of moments he wonders if he should just break up with Erwin, but the same second the idea pops into his head, Levi gags, saliva gathering in his mouth, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.
He's only been seeing Erwin for a few months now, but it's good, so good, better than anything and anyone he's had before, every bit of it, and the idea of giving that up now, when it's just beginning, just building its roots, over something like this makes the whole situation seem minuscule, and it's when that hits him that another thought follows. Levi loves Erwin. He's not very familiar with romantic love, but this has to be it, doesn't it? He wouldn't have reacted nearly so severely in the store if he hadn't felt something. He cares about Erwin, more than he's entirely comfortable with, actually. And goddammit, he cares about that kid, too.
Levi sits back in his seat and shakes the hair out of his eyes. He pulls his ass up for a second, fishing a hand in his back pocket and pulling out his phone. He dials the number almost automatically and holds his phone to his ear, meditating for a moment to the sound of the ringing.
Erwin doesn't pick up. Of course he doesn't pick up, he's at work, and as a county sheriff, Levi is certain he hardly gets a moment's rest. Levi can hear the smile in Erwin's voice on his outgoing voicemail message and he hums quietly, a single tone, low and gentle. Then there is a beep and Levi realizes he doesn't know exactly what he was going to say.
"Hi Erwin, it's me. Uh, I don't really know why I called…" Levi knows why he was pulled to call, sure, but why had he actually done it? He cringes slightly when the words leave his mouth, though their truth is indubitable. He wants to regret them, but a small voice in the back of his head says Levi was bound to say it eventually, anyway. "I really like you a lot. I guess the right word for that is probably 'love' but I'm not about to tell you that I love you for the first time over the phone. So, I like you a lot. There's that. Uhh…" Levi doesn't say "uh." He trained himself out of that particular habit in high school. God, he's fucking nervous isn't he? Levi's head hits his head rest too hard and he flinches. His eyes drift to the rearview mirror in his second of radio silence. The glint of the corner of the box is just barely visible, but that's enough.
Levi runs a hand through his hair and doesn't take his eyes off the box when he releases a sigh and continues.
"And about tonight, I know we had plans, but how about a movie instead?"
Levi owes Jean that much.
AN: thanks for reading. i love to embarrass jean. this fic is available on ao3 along with all my others.