Glitter, Glamour, and Ties
Summary: Eren hadn't imagined he'd be making his living as a stripper. And Levi hadn't been expecting to get stuck on the Rogue Mask – a celebrity pole dancer at a local club. Having just been hired as a Vice CEO, there's money to be spent on glittery extracurriculars. However, despite how Levi tries to find out the identity of the infamous dancer, the answer might be sitting just under his nose.
Chapter 1: The Company Stripper
He didn't have real inclination to celebrate. But Petra and Isabel had insisted, stating that, as his two best female friends, it was their responsibility to ensure he made good of his situation when it was appropriate. And a new job – a high ranking, vice CEO job – was what they considered to fall under that category. Thus, despite how he'd said he wasn't going to go, they were now forcing him down one of Los Vegas' main runways, talking excitedly as he dragged his feet behind.
"Don't look so worried," Petra tried to soothe, her hand placed on his shoulder only momentarily – a comforting gesture? "I've checked out all the best and asked for all the rules. It's totally clean, I promise. You'd be surprised how high class these kind of things actually are."
"I wouldn't be," he replied coldly. "I'm perfectly aware of how they are. That doesn't mean I have any more inclination to go."
"Don't be such a wet blanket!" Isabel slapped him on the back then, her smile wide as he turned up to stare at her disapprovingly. "You're almost thirty-two Levi, and you haven't dated since you broke up with Ian. Have a little fun!"
"Maybe this isn't my definition of fun," he said flatly.
"You'll have fun," Petra assured easily. "Just wait and see." It was difficult for Levi, that was, to be negative when both Petra and Isabel had such optimistic, cheerful dispositions. Though Isabel was a little more confident and abrupt in her good humor, Petra could be just as forceful, though in a quieter way. Both donning red hair – though different hues respectively – they were as similar as they were different.
"Look, there it is," Isabel pointed out, her pigtails making her seem even more juvenile. "The 'Gentleman's Gentleman.'" Levi had to use all his control not to comment on how stupid the name was. "Hurry, it looks like it's pretty crowded already." There were a good few people standing outside, seemingly taking breaks, already. And it was only seven-thirty.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Levi mumbled as he straightened the collar of his shirt (because it was, apparently, a requirement of the club that everyone look nice). Even Petra and Isabel were done up in tasteful dresses and heels.
"Stop being so negative about it and just have a little fun," Petra tried again to ease him into the idea. However, despite his objections, he was there, so the two women weren't really all that worried. If he'd really been against it, they knew him well enough to realize he'd have just refused to go. They'd deal with his mumbling gladly – at least until he started having a good time. It was his night, after all, or so they'd both determined.
Standing outside the gaudy, brightly lit building with male silhouettes on each side of the door, they approached the bouncer – a large, oddly friendly looking man who smiled when Isabel addressed him.
"Just make sure you can cover the surcharge and follow the rules," he explained after Isabel questioned him. "They're posted on the menus and on the walls." And they could tell, despite his easy attitude, that he wouldn't hesitate to kick out anyone who broke the laws of the club, and the city.
Sighing, Levi trailed both Petra and Isabel inside, his eyes only scanning the vicinity vaguely as the club opened up to them. After all, it wasn't like he'd never been to a strip club before. He'd been to quite a few back when he was a more reckless individual. And Levi wasn't the type to ever be impressed by something he'd already seen.
"We'll pay for you," Petra assured him as they went up to the front counter. The club was generously sized, spread out in a dark red haze of dim lighting. Other than the stage of course, where a man half-dressed as a policeman was hopelessly attempting to pull off a move Levi had seen done better many times before. Petra insisted he had high standards, but it wasn't his fault he demanded the best.
There were tables set up across the whole spread, a bar, lit up in blue, lining the wall on the left. In the back, to the right, was a curtain sectioning off part of the room. Probably where private events and such were held. All around, those serving the men and women (because this club catered to everyone) were dressed in tiny, barely existing shorts, some pulling off the look better than others. A few had personal touches to their "uniform," like one gentleman wearing a cowboy hat and another with a bowtie.
And as his companions had said it would be, it appeared to be clean and well taken care of, the music pounding loudest up near the stage. Of course, it could be kept as tidy as ever on the outside. That didn't mean other things didn't happen behind the scenes.
"C'mon, let's go get a table," Petra had linked arms with him and was dragging him across the room – as close to the stage as the current crowd allowed. Seating their group, the girls were all smiles as they distracted themselves with both the menus and the show going on up before them. Levi reminded himself that he was supposed to be positive as their waiter approached them.
He was a tall young man, his floppy brown hair giving him a boyish appearance despite his well-muscled form. Levi was betting his act had something to do with being a high school jock of some sort. If he had an act at all.
"I'm Bertholdt and I'll be your waiter tonight," he started, his deep voice coming across as both pleasant and somewhat shy. "Are there any drinks I can start you three off with?" Thus, they began the evening, their waiter retreating once they'd given their first orders.
"Oh, he's cute," Petra cooed when the policeman finally finished his show, the next single act coming on stage. He was attired on an almost completely opposite fashion, attempting to glamourize the thug look as he jived to some heavier beats. He was a much better dancer than the last one however, his hips able to roll in quite a few different moves as he tipped his hat before shrugging off his sweatshirt.
"It's almost eight," Isabel said across their table then, Levi much more apt to pay attention to conversation then what was happening on stage.
"What happens at eight?" he asked, trying not to sound all that truly interested.
"That's when the fully nude shows start," she replied mischievously.
"Oh," Levi rolled his eyes. "Joy." Glancing to the side, he ignored how Petra and Isabel giggled and began discussing the topic, his eyes instead going to the bar where, grouped behind it, were a few men in dark clothes and another, smaller man in sweats. It wasn't that their discussion look suspicious or another, but Levi found it more interesting than anything else happening.
"Oh, Levi, look, he's pretty good," Petra pulled his attention back to the stage. There, thug-man had finally stripped down to just his g-strong, his stocky, broad build giving him a somewhat mean appearance across his masculine face. His blonde hair was cut short and severe across his head, adding only more to his bad-boy charm. Which was probably why he was getting so many cheers. Soon enough he'd come off the stage and given one of the ladies a brief lap dance before getting back up under the lights.
Levi was more distracted when their drinks finally arrived however, his eyes drawn to the ice cubes floating in his glass. They were asked if they wanted anything else by their waiter, Isabel replying that they didn't at the moment, and then they were alone again.
Eventually the stripper left the stage, the lights brightening as a single, fully dressed man jumped up on stage, a mic in his hand. As he did, some in the crowd, likely regulars, began to cheer and he made a show of attempting to quiet them.
"And now comes the time I know so many of you have been waiting for. Those of you who are uncomfortable with anything above an PG level, please leave the building." He had a rather charismatic announcing voice, but it was clear that was all he was there for. "Also, as we do every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we have our Polescapades performed by the Rogue Mask, so let's all make sure we contribute to the hats being placed on each table. If we get enough, we can make sure he performs again." It was apparent, based on the cheers, that the regulars fully supported this particular act. However, how much money it made was probably based on how good it actually ended up being, seeing as a strip club in Vegas was more likely filled with newcomers than anyone else.
Soon enough, one of the waiters had come by and placed an upside-down, miniature top hat on their table, flashing them a suggestive smile as he did. Levi, naturally, ignored it, his drink in his hand as he leaned back in the round bench seat. He drank it slowly, knowing there were probably drink limits on a place with full-nudity. Not that he had a particular problem with that. Getting completely smashed wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.
"Oh, look, here they come," Petra encouraged as she glanced back at him. "Try and have fun." She smiled then, Levi supposing it would be in bad taste to give her a negative response. Instead, with no real attempts to enjoy himself, he turned his attention to the stage where, lights flashing accordingly, four men in varying types of tuxedos had expertly choreographed their way into the spotlight. They did their appropriate hip thrusts and fancy steps, Levi even having to admit that they could indeed dance. And the crowd cheered, both Isabel and Petra rather into the whole thing as well. It was entertaining enough, and Levi did appreciate their physiques once their jackets and shirts had come off. It was obvious they'd practiced and that they were each very good at what they did – they were performing in Vegas after all – but Levi saw very little actual dance in what they were doing. Then again, they were strippers, so perhaps he was expecting quite the wrong thing.
Soon all of them were on the ground, thrusting their hips up into the air in a unified front that called ever more cheers from the crowd. Within moments, their easily removable pants had been pulled off to reveal their cheesy socks and loafers as well as G-strings. After this, the show got even raunchier, though always in a well-choreographed manner. It wasn't long, the crowd encouraged to cheer louder, until the G-strings had been torn away as well.
Chin in his hand, elbow on the table, Levi supposed he could appreciate the view well enough.
"The one on the far right is really good," Isabel said through the cheering, Petra laughing as they looked back at Levi. As if asking his opinion on the whole thing.
"They're strippers," was all her offered however, Petra huffing then and staring at him as though quite disappointed in his response. Her attention returned to the stage soon enough however, her and Isabel cheering along with the rest of the club as the show was finished, the strippers coming down to mingle more with the crowd or whisking their way off behind the curtain, trailed by customers no doubt ready to pay for their lap services.
Up on the stage, some of the waiters were now pulling away some of the back curtains to reveal more of the stage. Three poles were set up there, Petra leaning back to talk to Levi again.
"I read about this on one of their flyers," she explained. "From what it says, they've got, like, a professional pole dancer or something?" She sounded unsure.
"Aren't all pole dancers considered 'professionals?'" Levi asked smartly.
"Well, I mean, I guess he's supposed to be really good or something," she shrugged.
"How good can someone actually be a pole dancing?" Isabel asked, though honest curiosity, not ridicule, sounded in her voice. Neither of her friends could answer however and instead focused their attention back up on the stage as the lights began to dim. Another show was about to begin.
The music dwindled then as well, the jiving beats replaced by a low-strumming string instrument before it soon elevated into what most would consider a sexy, Latin beat. It was far more complex than anything heard previously, sounding almost expertly composed. The music, however, wasn't what most people were paying attention to.
The lights had taken on a reddish glint, a figure having appeared from the back of the stage. He was already shirtless, the bottom half of his body covered in only glittery, skintight briefs. Upon his face was a similarly decorated masquerade mask.
The club had fallen silent by this time, everyone silent as the figure continue to come closer until his slim, wired frame was visible for all to see. He wasn't the typical musculature of male strippers. Rather, he was skinnier and more stretched in his muscle, his figure even somewhat feminine.
He was already in the act however, his fingers gracefully controlled as he slipped his way up to the center pole and sensually wrapped his hand around it. The music was still somewhat soft, but slowly becoming more intense, the pole dancer's every movement sensitive to the violins echoing out of the speakers.
His hands caressed the pole as if it were a real, feeling person – softly and deliberately. Until, rather abruptly, the music spiked and, looking as though he'd gasped in pleasure, his whole body thrust forward. Balanced on his toes, his head fell back, his torso folding backwards as his groin pressed into the pole. Yet as the slow crescendo of the music ended, he snapped from the slow pull and around the front, his leg hooking around the pole as his whole body seemed to collapse with the breath of the music. Swinging around, he used the leverage as a way of taking flight from the floor.
The audience was captivated as he somehow shimmied his way effortlessly up the pole, Levi not realizing how intent he himself was on watching. But what was going on wasn't simple pole dancing. This man was obviously trained in actual dance, his muscles contracting as, knees folded, his head fell back until he was holding onto the pole with only his legs. Reaching backwards, he pretended to grasp at the air as he folded himself upside down, the back of his head hitting the pole as one of his legs reached up to point straight into the air.
Suddenly, the music fell, gasps echoing around in the crowd as the dancer did as well. Releasing his hold on the pole, his whole body slipped down, his head only centimeters from the ground before he took grip again and halted the fall with his legs. He hung there for a moment, the audience taking in his performance for only a breath before he expertly folded back down and turned back to the pole. Splayed out on his knees, he hugged the pole to his body while his groin thrust against in momentarily.
The violins hit a violent slip and the dancer's body flashed back in a similar manner, yet somehow retaining his sensual allure at the same time. As if tossed back by the pole itself, he dragged himself back across the floor, begging it to take him back. His whole body dragged, his rear still somehow managing to draw the eye as he crawled and thrust his way back up the pole.
It apparently didn't want him back however and, his torso folding, his back bulged momentarily as if he'd taken a blow to the stomach. Arms tense, he then tossed himself into a swift, violent swing around the pole, his legs flailed out severely, yet somehow he managed to keep complete control. Flipping in a way Levi couldn't follow, he was soon throwing his legs upwards before wrapping them around the pole. Brown hair hanging, he pulled the pole against him, his hips grinding against it despite how he hung upside-down against it.
The music had become softer, as if perhaps the pole was considering taking him back. Ankles, feet, and legs wrapped tightly around the middle of the pole, his upper body soon arced outward, his arms slipping up and behind him in a graceful swoop. Bent backwards around the pole for only a moment, he was soon holding on near the top once again, his legs coming loose as he righted his position.
Taking the pole between his thighs, he laid his cheeks against it as well as he slipped it provocatively between his legs. The movements soon became more erratic, as if he was becoming desperate. Inch by inch he was sliding up to the top of the pole again. Until, his hands grappling – clawing – at the ceiling, his knees were nearly colliding with the lights, his chest rubbing up against the fixtures.
Letting go of the ceiling, he was bent back again, the pole pressed up against his behind as he turned himself upside-down – as if it were easy. Gripping the pole tightly between his fingers, he turned himself until he was facing it, his arms stretching down to give his legs the space to find the ceiling. Feet pressed flat upwards, he was grinding once more against the pole, smoothly executing a sexual move upside-down that many couldn't even do right side up.
His movements became faster, more vigorous, his hands grappling at the pole desperately. It was as it he could somehow defy gravity, though Levi could see the strain on his arms and torso. He was, after all, making a show of effortlessly holding up his entire body. And moving it.
As his act seemed to reach its climax however, the music hit a sour note and he was abruptly swinging down across the pole again, this time the music retaining a kind of frenzied, angry disposition. Like some kind of deranged acrobat, he was tossing his body around the pole, yet at the same time able to remain in character. The way he curved his body and the fierceness in the procession of his swings made it seem as if the pole was the one throwing him away.
Until, finally, it succeeded. Ankles wrapping around one of the adjacent poles, the dancer was easily able to transfer himself from one to the other, his whole body swing around once before he pulled up and reached back behind his head, grabbing the new pole as it was pressed against the back of his glittering briefs. He moved up and down the pole slowly then, as if to need it, but it didn't satisfy him. Releasing the pole, his abdominal muscles contracted as he reached forward. The pole latched between his thighs, he was pulling himself horizontal towards the other one, his arms reaching out desperately.
It continued to reject him however, the dancer eventually swinging back around and gaining momentum as he then started tossing himself between all three poles. The crowd was cheering by now, beginning to thunder as the music pulled him between the three different poles. His arms became hectic, his movements purposefully disjointed until, with a swell of the music, he finally attached himself fully to the center pole again and fell.
Collapsing on the ground, he was bent forward on the stage for a moment, the pole running up the center of his briefs. Slowly, with an agonizing act, he pulled himself up until he was bent back against the pole. There, breathing hard as his chest and hips thrust forward, the music finally slashed to an end. The lights blacked out, the performance closing with far more punch than it had begun.
The crowd was still cheering wildly, Levi blinking as he finally seem to regain control of his senses. He hadn't realized that he'd leaned forward in his seat, his focus having fallen completely to the dancer.
"That was incredible," Petra hissed to them as the two women continued clapping. "I didn't even know that kind of thing was possible." She and Isabel were obviously astounded, Levi supposing he was impressed, but rather more focused on the tightness that had formed inside his trousers.
Jumping back up on the stage, the announcer grabbed their attention. "Don't forget to tip the hats everyone. The more you give, the more times he can come back with a new act before we close!" All over the club, people reached into their wallets and began dumping cash into the hats, the waiters going around and picking up the proceeds.
Levi, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a twenty before carelessly placing it inside. Then, looking to Isabel, he attempting to scoot his way out of the bench seat.
"I'm going up to the bar," he explained as she moved out of the way for him. He didn't look back at them as he retreated, his eyes scanning the club until he found who he was looking for. Hunkering his way up to a man behind a podium near the curtain, he made his business blatantly clear.
"What do you offer behind that curtain?" he asked briskly, the man, who'd been counting money, glancing up swiftly before allowing a small grin to break out across his face.
"Just lap dances. No funny business here," he made clear.
"Fine," Levi waved his hand dismissively. "How much?"
"Depends on the guy."
"The one who just performed," he replied coldly. "The pole dancer." The man smirked wider then, seeming to enjoy Levi's inquiry far more than he should have.
"The Rogue Mask?" he questioned despite knowing perfectly well who Levi had been referring to. "Sorry honey, but he doesn't do that."
"What do you mean he doesn't do that?" Levi asked a little more sharply than he probably should have. "I thought strippers made most of their money off of private dances?"
"Most do," the man shrugged. "But the Rogue is satisfied with what he makes in the hats. Isn't interested in private dancing. And seeing as that's a source of private income, it's his call." He shrugged. "Don't worry though honey, you're not the first to come up here all hot and bothered asking for him." Eyes narrowed, Levi glared, offering no further discussion as he turned away. Not even bothering to consider any of the other strippers, he scanned the room, as if he'd somehow find the "Rogue" himself. The brunette was nowhere in sight however and, aggravated, he instead headed towards the bathrooms.
Oddly disappointed, he decided he'd have to deal with his issues himself. And that the rest of the night was likely to be long if the "Rogue Mask" kept coming back on stage.
oOo
Taking a deep breath, he paused only momentarily to look up at the large, glass paneling on the front of the building before he forced his feet forward. The sliding doors opened for him immediately, the broad, spaciously furnished lobby spreading out before him. Directly in front was a single, rounded desk, the company logo suspended behind it. Approaching, he glanced down at the two receptionists working there. One was female, the other male, both of them dressed in the appropriate formal attire for such a position.
He happened to be closer to the young man, who turned up to address him.
"Good morning Sir," he greeted with what Levi recognized as a rather stunning smile. Weighed down by large, deep green eyes, he really did appear far too happy to see the stranger before him. Very much a pretty young man. "What is it we can do for you?" The other receptionist had glanced up momentarily, but then gone back to typing on her computer.
"I was told there'd be a key waiting for me up here," he issued coldly. "I'm the new Vice CEO." Those green eyes bulged a little then, the smile faltering.
"Mr. Akerman," he addressed then. "We were expecting you." And despite the fact that he hadn't done anything wrong, he acted quite like he had as he pulled his chair along the desk before reaching into a far drawer. Levi watched him the whole time, spotting an odd, rounded mark on the base of the man's thumb. It looked almost like a bite scar, but as he pushed himself back in Levi's direction, it was recognized for what it was. A birthmark.
"Here you are Sir," the young man nodded once as he held the key up to him, Levi finally reading his name tag. Eren Yeager. "And Mr. Smith asked that, when you came in, we tell you he wants to see you before you get settled into your office."
"Hm, alright" Levi issued, his chilled voice causing "Eren" no comfort. He didn't care however and, getting what he'd wanted, he left the desk and headed towards the elevators on the far side of the room. Once inside, he hit the button for the eightieth floor, prepared to wait some while he was carried upwards, occasionally interrupted by someone else on their way up. It wasn't until he'd reached the seventieth floor that someone of any interest came aboard, and only because they looked at him, looked at the floor number he was headed too, and then back at him. And then spoke to him.
"You must be Levi Akerman," a voice that sounded both oddly female and male interjected on his thoughts, the person before him donning glasses and reddish-brown hair tied up in a ponytail. That aside, they were wearing a fitted suit, though no tie and the collar was in slight disarray. However, he found that he couldn't quite tell if they were a man or a woman.
"I'm Hange Zoe," it continued, holding out its hand. "I'm head of the science department. Erwin wanted to see me this morning as well, said maybe I'd meet you." A smile.
Levi, however, found the name wasn't helpful at all and, lips pursed, made a show of looking the person up and down before meeting their gaze.
"Are you a man or a woman?" he asked then. Blinking, he received a momentary pause in response before being greeted with bursting laughter. Turning away from him, no response was offered. And Levi, who didn't appreciate being ignored, made his sentiments known. "Are you going to answer my question?"
"My, my, Erwin said you could be direct," was the easy reply. "Among other things." The elevator arrived at the top floor then, both of them stepping out and Levi further disgruntled when Hange still didn't address him in what he considered the proper manner. Instead, they both headed down the short hallway that led up to Erwin's secretary's desk. Hange, however, didn't bother stopping there, instead going directly to the door on the right. Even as the secretary vainly tried to bring them to a halt.
"Ah, Ms. Zoe," Erwin greeted as they entered, Levi trailing behind. "And Levi," he hadn't even looked up at them as they'd entered. "Please, take a seat." He finally caught their gazes then. A blonde man with expertly parted locks, he also possessed sharp blue eyes and bushy eyebrows. His thick jawline was severe, his presence having the same chilling effect it'd had when he and Levi had been roommates in college. Needless to say, they'd been a rather unapproachable pair.
Hange did as directed and flopped down in one of the seats, Levi taking his time to remove his coat, lay it over his briefcase, and then set it all beside the chair. He slowly sat down, straightening his jacket as he crossed his right leg over the left. Erwin watched him the whole time, a secret smirk on his lips as he surveyed Levi's unaffected attitude.
"Well I'm glad you've both met," Erwin started once it was apparent that Levi was acceptably comfortable. "Since our last VP, well, had to leave," he'd died, or so Levi had learned. Massive heart attack, "Hange here has been in charge of everything I couldn't take on myself. So for the first few weeks, your training," he was looking directly at Levi, "will be conducted by both she and myself. Of course, I'm assuming you'll catch on quickly. Your work experience, as well as our person history, ensures that."
"Erwin here tells me you went to college together," Hange started, smiling again. "Said you were second only to him when you graduated. And you guys both went to Stanford, didn't you?" Levi didn't feel the need to answer; mostly because it was apparent Hange already knew the answer to her own inquiry. "You guys make me feel so inferior."
"There's no need to feel that way," Erwin waved her off. "You're a brilliant scientist."
"That sold myself to the Man for the money," she sighed, though honestly didn't sound that broken up about it. Despite being located in Las Vegas (though not near the main strip), Erwin's company, which was uncreatively called ES Research, was one of the leading drug testing companies in the county. Hange's job was no laughing matter, even Levi knew that. They worked with patrons out of country as well as within the United States. The top scientists, as well as top marketers, were a requirement. And the top business leaders as well.
"Well, the Man wouldn't be able to do it without you," Erwin assured, no doubt hinting that he filled such unglamorous shoes. "In any case, I called you up here Hange because I finished looking over those test files you sent me – from the Japanese clients where all the rats died after the false dosage – and I figured I could give them back to you while you and Levi introduced yourselves. Which you've apparently already done, so!" Standing, he grabbed a file off his desk and handed it to Hange, the two of them standing as well. "I'm now going to take you down to your office," he nodded to Levi, "and we'll have another meeting this afternoon to go over the logistics of this transfer of power."
Together, they retreated from the office to the elevator, Erwin saying something to his secretary as they went by. Levi knew his office was located only one floor down, so he and Erwin were soon enough back off the elevator while Hange continued her way further down. Erwin had an entire floor to himself, but Levi shared the seventy-ninth with all the other board members. Thankfully, most doors appeared to be closed, so he could postpone speaking to them again (they'd been present for all his interviews) until the meeting later that afternoon. Instead, Erwin led him down the hallway to the middle of the mahogany trimmed level where there was another secretary sitting inside a circular desk. She was an older woman and Erwin waved as they passed her. Levi didn't bother.
Up ahead, in much the same fancy fashion of Erwin's office, were two double doors. Only another wall was needed, apparently, to give Levi the privacy he required since he didn't have an entire floor all to himself. Behind the doors, because Erwin had pushed his way through them, was a smaller room with chairs for waiting, yet another secretary sitting at a desk against the back wall.
"This is your executive assistant," Erwin introduced them as they approached, the young man behind the desk facing them respectfully. "His name is Armin Artlert. He's a graduate from Harvard and has been working here for… three years?" Erwin asked him directly.
"Yes Sir," the young, blonde boy replied, Levi eyeing him narrowly.
"You look a little young to already have been to college," Levi observed, assuming this made his point clear enough.
"Er, yes, well," Armin cleared his throat. "I graduated early from high school and was done with college by the time I was nineteen. I want to go back for my masters, but was advised to get some experience first." Levi nodded in understanding, able to place more faith in the young man for being honest enough to admit that he didn't intend to stay with the company forever.
"And this is your office," Erwin turned their attention to the other door to the right, gesturing Levi forward as Armin jumped up and opened the door for them. And as they entered, Levi felt his stomach immediately drop. "Uh, well," Erwin started then, "the previous VP had… different tastes than you, but you're welcome to change whatever you like."
"This is disgusting," Levi decided coldly, Armin, who was standing behind them, raising the back of his hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing. "Was this man blind or simply garish?"
"It's not nice to speak ill of the dead Levi," Erwin replied stoically.
"If everything he did was as offensive as this room, then fuck manners," Levi stated briskly as he entered further into the room. Erwin didn't bother correcting his language. Mostly because the office really was hideous. If it wasn't the dusty, Victorian curtains clashing with the splatters of modern art adorning the walls, then it was the huge animal sculptures sitting all over the room, growling and glaring at anyone who entered. Approaching one of a lion, Levi stuck his finger in its mouth, scowling when it came back covered in dust.
"The previous VP liked to do his own cleaning," Erwin offered.
"Then he obviously didn't know the definition of clean," Levi snapped before sighing. "This will all have to go," he turned to Armin then, who straightened up. "I want everything gone – the curtains, the… 'art,' the furniture," which was no better. "It all needs to be gone."
"Y-yes Sir," Armin nodded, though it was clear, based on the look on his face, that he had no idea how to even begin such a task.
"That's the thing about that," Erwin started, Levi turned to glare at him and interrupt before he could even finish.
"Don't you dare tell me I have to work in an office that looks like this Erwin," he scolded. "I'll quit first."
"No, no, no," Erwin assured. "It's just that, a lot of what's in here is, well, actually worth some money and even protected in some cases. Like the paintings on the walls and such. So… everything has to be surveyed and sorted before it can be auctioned off. I'd like to have been able to clear out this place weeks ago, but I just didn't have the time to think about it."
"Well, it can't stay like this," Levi made perfectly clear. "If the stuff can't be thrown out, then it needs to be moved to storage somewhere. It can be sorted out there. Who can I call to have this stuff moved out? Now."
"Since these are all considered personal possessions of the deceased, the company can't actually be liable for moving them. The family said to auction everything, but that doesn't mean it belongs to us. Therefore, I can't actually have people from the company do that."
"I'm going to kill you Erwin."
"However, if you just happened to have your secretary or something get everything out of the way, say it was taking up too much space or something, then I guess there's nothing to be done about that." Erwin shrugged, though he appeared all too smug about the whole thing.
"Armin," Levi looked directly to the young man, "I want all of this out of here as soon as possible. And I mean everything. I want to be able to walk in this room and it's completely empty. I don't even want the bookshelves." They were a hideous puke brown color.
"If you need anything, here's a key to the janitor's closet in the basement," Erwin pulled it out of his pocket, having anticipated Levi's reaction. "Feel free to get help from some of the employees downstairs." Because Armin did actually have power over other employees. Administrative assistants were nothing to scoff at. "This isn't going to be an easy task."
"I can't even stand to be in here right now," Levi decided, shaking his head as he looked around again. "This room is so gross." And despite the huge job he'd just been given, Armin had to hide a laugh once again.
oOo
"He doesn't seem too bad then?" Levi heard a voice questioning as he exited the locker room. "I saw him yesterday. I couldn't get a good reading on him though." There was a young man in the gym, the only person besides himself that early in the morning. He was sitting on the stretching mats dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top, his bright green tennis shoes drawing most of the attention. Levi recognized him of course. He'd been the receptionist on the ground floor of the building, the one who had given him his key the morning before. He had his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, his well-muscled arms pulling him into a near horizontal stretch as he reached easily past his toes, his chest bent down against his leg.
Levi had assumed, seeing as it was six in the morning, that he'd be the only one crazy enough to drop by the company gym. Apparently, however, his insanity was shared with one other person.
"I can't believe he said that," Eren Yeager laughed then, his stretches appearing to take no effort whatsoever. "Are you going to need help?" He wasn't expecting anyone else to be there either, that much was apparent to Levi. His voice was loud, as if he didn't care about the opinions of anyone else around, which led to the assumption that he'd never encountered anyone else during the wee hours of the morning. "Is there really that much stuff in his office?"
And Levi, who had more of a sense of humor than people gave him credit for, waited patiently for the most opportune time.
"I'd be happy to help," Eren continued, on to stretching his other leg. "Moving a whole bunch of stuff into storage is better than answering phones for eight hours." One eyebrow cocked, Levi was beginning to deduce who exactly Mr. Yeager was talking to, despite how unlikely such knowledge was actually likely to be. "Yeah right," he continued. "You were always the smart one, not me," he clarified. "Besides, though he didn't seem like a bad guy, he didn't seem like the nicest person either." And Levi, who was watching his stretching progress, saw that he was about to lean backwards, which would reveal who was standing behind him. Taking advantage, Levi stepped forward until he was just behind him, watching in secret amusement at what unfolded next.
Phone now held in his hand to his ear, Eren went to lean back – to do a kind of hold that strengthened his abdominals – when he caught sight of something else.
Eyes widening, he jumped, losing his balance and falling flat on his back, his voice shouting in surprise as his phone bounced heavily against the mat. Staring up at Levi through wide eyes, he was momentarily struck with shock as the topic of his conversation stared down at him with a single cocked eyebrow. Mouth opening and closing, no words came, Levi not letting up on the harshness of his expression.
When it was apparent that Eren had no idea what to do however, Levi took the initiative and reached down. Grabbing up the discarded phone, he held it to his ear, where the man on the other line was inquiring into what had happened.
"Good morning Mr. Arlert," Levi replied coolly, Eren finally jumping up, broken out of his shock by Levi's actions. "I thought it appropriate to answer your questions seeing as Eren was far too shocked to get to them. Don't worry, everything is quite alright here." His assistant had fallen silent in what Levi decided must be surprise as well. "Also," he added. "I'm a very nice person." Eren's head fell then, redness flushing up his neck onto to his cheeks. "Well, I'm glad you agree," Levi continued. "Yes, I'll see you later this morning. I'm glad to hear it."
Pulling the phone from his ear, he pressed his finger into the screen to hang it up before offering it back to Eren, who took it hesitantly and with nothing to say. He didn't even look up at Levi actually, the tenseness of his form visible from across the room. And Levi, who was far more amused than he let on, stared at him for only a moment before shaking his head and walking away. Finding a position on the other side of the large mat, he began his own stretches, aware of the way Eren silently watched him. As if waiting for the hand of god to come down and punish him.
To be quite frank, Levi could see his reasoning for being paranoid. He hadn't always been a wealthy PhD after all and could understand how threatening authority figures could be. Not that he had any sympathy for the young man, but he could understand.
"You and Armin know each other then?" he questioned, his tone not at all legitimately interested. It seemed to startle Eren out of his uneasy pause however, who blinked and considered how to answer.
"Er, yeah, we live together actually," he replied as he reached up and scratched the back of his shaggy haired head. Levi nodded in response, going about his own stretches and not questioning into anything further. The situation was, however, somewhat awkward (since they were the only two there), thus he was not surprised when Eren continued talking. "We've known each other since we were kids…"
His eyes fell to the side.
"And you happen to work for the same company?" Levi asked as he stretched down both of his legs, proving that he was just as capable as the other man.
"Well, Armin got me my job here, actually," he clarified. "I've only worked here for six months…"
"Ah," Levi replied well enough. The conversation seemed to die then however, Eren finally getting back down on the mat and finishing his stretches. The silence was thick, but it was able to be worked through. And seeing as Levi didn't care about the awkwardness level, he wasn't at all worried about it. Eren kept looking over at him though, a puzzled look on his face.
Levi ignored it.
It wasn't until Levi got up to use one of the treadmills, which happened to be on the other side of the room, that things finally seemed to settle. Eren, who would normally be using a treadmill as well, deferred to a bike instead, pulling his ear buds from his pocket and starting his music as he pumped the petals.
Levi preferred silence however, completely content to close his eyes and run for half an hour. He could hear Eren breathing somewhere behind him, the bike fanning out, but it was still better than coming when there were a dozen other sweaty, smelly, huffing bodies. At least Eren was in good enough shape that he wasn't wheezing or puffing. His lungs breathed in and out accordingly, his rhythm habitual and expected.
Half hours were a pretty regular time slot however, which was why they both ended up finishing at the same time. Eren was no longer bothered however, his music blasting in his ears as he made his way over to the weights. Levi distracted himself with the punching bag, his hands soon wrapped in the appropriate tape as he allowed his arms and legs to loosen up.
It was for this reason that he didn't notice Eren watching him.
A weight in each hand, Eren was standing erect, his arms stretched out on each side of him as he worked out his underarms and abdominals. Honestly, he had been quite taken aback when Mr. Akerman had first shown up. He worked out this early in the morning because his afternoons were usually filled with other activities. That someone else would show up hadn't crossed his mind. It wasn't even light out yet. Not that he minded having Mr. Akerman there. He wasn't bothersome, though he hadn't initially struck Eren as being the type to be… so in shape.
He was a shorter man, but extremely well muscled. Eren had skinny, stretched muscle – he was extremely flexible and well-toned. Mr. Akerman, on the other hand, was bulkier than Eren would have been able to see through his suit. He wasn't buff like so many workout junkies were, but his small form didn't have a speck of fat on it. He didn't have to remove his shirt for Eren to know he had a six-pack, among other things. Eren had a six-pack too, but it was thinner, only really obvious when he flexed. Mr. Akerman was the type of guy Eren wouldn't want to meet in the back of an alley somewhere because, for all of Eren's strength, he was pliable where Mr. Akerman would be rock.
And the way he was expertly beating on that bag… he wasn't just a typical suit.
Forcing his gaze to find something else, Eren refocused his attention on his weight lifting, eventually becoming unaware once again. It was for this reason, with his music turned up louder than was probably necessary, that he jumped again when he turned and saw Levi staring up at him with his arms crossed over his chest. Popping his ear buds out quickly, he wiped the sweat from his forehead as he looked down at him. "You're going to blow your ears out you know," Levi mentioned it as if it were common sense, which it was, and Eren blushed. "I was trying to get your attention. I wasn't going to do this at all because company policy requires a spotter, but since you're here, you can help."
"O-okay," Eren agreed despite not really knowing what he was agreeing to.
Without offering further explanation, Levi turned and walked towards the weight lifting benches. There, he began to load plates onto each side, Eren watching as he came up behind him.
"I don't actually need you here," Levi made clear, "but it's not safe to do this completely alone, especially in the company gym. So just stand there." Because Eren now knew what he was supposed to be doing. Though if Mr. Akerman did happen to fail to lift the weights, Eren wasn't sure how much help he'd be. He couldn't lift what was loaded onto the bar, whatever that was. And, to be honest, Eren never bench-pressed anyway.
Mr. Akerman was obviously experienced however. Lying underneath the bar, he reached up, steadied his breathing, and began the slow lifting motion. He was breathing deliberately Eren soon realized, his mouth falling open slightly as he watched. Levi's muscles were bulging ever more, making it quite apparent that what he lifted was no easy feat. He completed some ten reps before he returned the bar and sat up, sweat dripping down his face and, well, the rest of his body.
"How much is on there?" Eren asked curiously.
"Two-hundred and fifty," he replied.
"Is that… a lot?"
"It's nothing huge," he shrugged. "But I don't intend to be a world winning bench presser either." In fact, his workouts weren't really about building muscle. He had routines for every day, but he wasn't truly all that concerned with meeting extravagant goals.
"I've never even tried," Eren shook his head. "I could probably lift my own weight, but I don't think I'd do more than that."
"Then don't attempt to do it without anyone else around," Levi made perfectly clear as he lay back down to do it again. And Eren, falling silent once more, watched him for the next fifteen or so minutes as he did a certain number, took a short break, and then did it again.
Soon enough he finally finished, Eren quite unsure what to think of the whole thing. Part of him felt that, were he with anyone else, he'd try to make friends, start casual conversation. But this was the Vice President of the entire company. What did they even have to talk about? After all, it wasn't like they were peers or something. Mr. Akerman was some Ivy League PhD. And Eren, well… he'd never even set foot in a college classroom before. The difference between them was, as far as he was concerned, too vast to breach.
"So… I'm just going to go back and… do my weights some more," he mentioned quietly. Mr. Akerman had stood and was drinking water from his bottle. He turned to watch Eren retreat however, eventually shaking his head before going on to finish his own workout. Thus, the rest of their time was spent in silence. Seeing as they both started work, officially, at eight, they ended up heading back to the locker rooms around seven-thirty. Mr. Akerman had a key to the more private section however, so they were completely separated. It wasn't until they were both leaving, their hair wet from the necessary need to shower, that they ran into one another again.
Eren had replaced his workout attire with a pair of gray slacks and a blue button-up. In comparison to his boss, he looked like a slob however. But, then again, not much could compare to a designer suit.
"You're going to help Armin with my office then?" he asked as they headed down the hall.
"Uh, he asked me to, yeah," Eren verified, once again reminded of how he'd been overheard.
He got a "hmph" in response before, "see you later than." And as simply as that, as the hallway opened up, he was watching Mr. Akerman's small form walking off, Eren abruptly unsure if agreeing to help Armin had been a good idea after all.
He frowned.
A/N: Hmmm, a double life I'm sensing here. And pole dancing like that is totally possible. If you have a hard time imagining something like that, look up Anastasia Sokolova on youtube. She was on Ukraine's Got Talent and is freaking amazing.
So Eren works for Levi then? The many, many places this could go. This story will have sexiness, as forewarning, but you're all probably expecting as much based on what it's about, lol. In any case, please REVIEW! I want to read your thoughts ^-^