Most days she was fierce and vibrant, reminiscent of the wind in his hair as he rode his mare through the wilds beyond Wall Rose.

Some days she was careful, shy almost, as though she thought if she pressed him too hard he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

On occasional days, the two sides to Petra Ral collided in an onslaught of aggressive protectiveness, directed only and always towards him, as she so vehemently denied to the faces of their fellow squad members.

And he loathed her just as much as he adored her, every single one of those days.

"Stop being stubborn, Captain and let me look at it!"

Her voice was shrill and determined, and he clenched his teeth in aggravation, removing the palm of his hand momentarily from staunching his wound, to run his hand raggedly through his hair, the oily blackness quickly becoming slick with gore, his own blood falling back down into his eyes along with his haphazard hair. He quickly sucked air in pain, returning the palm of his hand to his shoulder, which had begun to bleed once more.

There was blood in his hair.

There was blood in his teeth.

He wanted to do nothing more than throw himself into the lake they had come to rest beside and remove the quickly blackening, hardening blood from his entire body. He was filthy, and he wanted to be sick, and he was going to strike her-

He reached the edge of the lake, dropping to his knees without a thought and dunking his hands into the chilly black water, scrubbing at his skin with his fingernails in an unrelenting attempt to clean his skin, even a little bit. He let out a low breath he didn't know he had been holding, as he felt Petra's presence behind his back. He splashed water in his face and she gasped. He wasn't sure if it was with annoyance, exasperation or a little of both.

"Levi, you're going to split it wide open again! Let me see it!"

Her voice was tense and insisting and he rolled his eyes darkly, attempting to dislodge some of the blood from his hair, only becoming vaguely aware of the spots appearing in his vision. His wound had stopped stinging a few metres back, and now his body simply thudded with some dull ache with each beat of his heart. He turned his head to snap at Petra to leave him alone, that it would be fine until they returned to their base and the nurse had a look at it, when he felt a wave of nausea pass over him, and his wish to vomit was satisfied.

He spat bile, falling backwards onto his rump, his hand blindly reaching out to steady himself behind him. He heard a cry come from somewhere far away - it might have been closer, but he wasn't altogether sure. He felt the chilly water of the lake be thrown across his face again, dripping from the point of his chin onto his chest and he felt briefly annoyed that his cravat was going to be ruined. He felt strong hands grip his upper arms and settle him firmly, before a shock of coppery hair and large honey coloured eyes drew his scattered attention back.

Petra.

"For the love of Maria, Levi, I told you it was deeper than it looked!"

There it was, the fierce vibrancy of Petra's voice, as she shoved a canteen of water between his fingers, helping him tip his head back and sip the cool liquid between cracked lips. He heard her fuss around him for a moment, before a soft, lily white hand rested on his own pale cheek and she was right before his eyes, so close he could count the freckles on her nose, appreciate the fullness of her eyelashes.

"Stay still, this is going to sting," he heard her say, every moment his sense returning to him as his head ceased to spin, and he felt a searing burn on his shoulder. He growled in pain, fists clenching and eyes shutting tight as the clarity of the situation came crashing back down around him, and the rubbing alcohol cleaned up some of the bloody flesh that was puckered and torn on his shoulder.

He groaned, tilting his head back, as Petra unbuckled his ODM gear with care, pulling it from his shoulder, and pausing gingerly to watch him with hard eyes.

"I need to pull your shirt down, Captain, sir," she said seriously, and he opened one eye to observe her, almost snorting with laughter at the peachy blush that had crawled its way from her neck to her cheeks.

"Well hurry up and do it then Petra. I doubt you'll find my pallid stomach all that enticing - unless you're menstruating, are you?"

She blinked, her blush never fading, watching him with a mix of incredulous shock and sheer disbelief. He frowned, shutting his eyes again and being reminded of Erwin's insistence that his sense of humour - or rather lack thereof - only alienated him more from regular humans.

"No, sir," Petra muttered, leaning forwards and wrenching his shirt down from around his shoulders, taking care where his skin was torn open. He watched under heavy lidded eyes as she sterilised a needle and threaded it with thin string, twitching closer to him on her hands and knees to position herself close to him so that her breasts rested softly on either side of his arm. She pierced his skin with the needle, moving it carefully to pull his severed skin back together once more, her brow furrowed in concentration, her guard always up as she glanced around the camp, making doubly sure they weren't being stalked by an abnormal.

He hissed in protest initially, but simply focused his sullen gaze on the lake in determination as she continued, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the delicate flowery scent that washed over him when the breeze blew her hair around her shoulders.

"You only ever get hurt when you're saving someone else's ass, sir," she said.

He wasn't sure how she said it. Was she annoyed with him? Slightly wistful, perhaps? Regretful? Levi had never honestly cared for adjectives, or puzzling out the troubled words of women, for that matter-

"Is that a bad thing, Petra?" he asked shortly, his eye twitching in a slight wince as she pierced his flesh again, coming towards the end of the wound. She brought her lips down to where the needle protruded from his flesh, and he felt the hot wetness of her breath on his skin as she used her teeth to bite through the thread.

He felt it then, that familiar twist in the pit of his stomach, and he found himself unconsciously lowering his head closer to the crown of Petra's firey red locks, eyes dark and inquisitive. The wind brushed over them again, sending her hair dancing around her shoulders as she raised her lips from his shoulder, cheeks stained a cherry red, eyes lowered at his wound. He caught a lock of flyaway hair between his forefinger and thumb, delicately, tucking it behind her ear in one swoop. She lifted her eyes from his wound, her gaze strong, weathered, staring straight through his sullen exterior, past the hardness of his cold blue eyes and she swallowed visibly. The moment seemed to hang in the air around them, and Levi wondered for the umpteenth time where this tiny woman found the power to be able to make his mouth go dry and his sharp retorts fall broken from his tongue.

"No, not a bad thing." Her words were soft, barely above a whisper, carried on that same breeze that made her hair shift gently. "I just wish other people would be a bit more careful so you wouldn't have to be."

He frowned at that, reaching down to gather his filthy shirt, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"It's easier if I get hurt. The others don't handle it well, it causes me less trouble," he said simply, his tone dull and serious as he thought of the complaints of his other squad members should they have been injured, undoubtedly causing him more annoyance than a bit of blood loss.

Petra shook her head in disbelief, as he flinched into his shirt, carefully buckling his ODM gear up once more, his expression dull and weary. He stood up, Petra leaning forth to try and help him, but he was standing up straight before she could take his elbow. He glanced at his shoulder, silently impressed with Petra's nursing skills, the wound tidily sewn and cleaned. He lifted his cloak from the ground, shaking out the dry, sandy earth that it had gathered lying at his feet.

"It might cause you less trouble."

He snorted softly at that, a small, rare, wry smile filtering its way onto his face, and he glanced up at her pouting form, cheeks pink, brows furrowed, arms crossed, eyes sparkling, face gentle.

"Do forgive me, Petra," his voice was dry and humourless, but she caught the edge of sarcasm in his tone and grinned, face bright, laugh like the tinkling of a bell. She followed him back to his horse, replying to the other squad member's jeers with insults punctuated by the sweetness of her voice.

In that moment, he loathed her just as much as he adored her.

Loathed her, quite honestly, for making him adore her so very much.

I love these guys. I like focusing on their happiness too. Feedback is pure gold.