First attempt at Shingeki fandom. Eruri has taken over my life; plot bunnies shagging each other and breeding uncontrollably they need to be set free. This was meant to be a quick crack fic, but then it grows into something else.
Be gentle. Or not. Happy Reading!
"No."
Erwin exhales carefully. He has expected this from Levi, the only tinge of regret he now is feeling is from the fact he has had the slightest hope that Levi might give him a different answer. He should know better that Levi would put up quite a battle.
"You can spare the time away from the base, Levi."
It is at the height of scorching summer, a time where titans are the most ravenous that an expedition requires the whole Legion to be in its absolute best shape. And their last excursion outside of the Wall has brought down the number of their active soldiers significantly, and the fresh batch of trainees will not arrive for training until the next two months.
"I can," the captain snaps. "But I won't. Whatever the hell for?" Levi angles his body to glance at him, his hands busy tending to a neglected corner in Erwin's office. Levi is antsy, and irritable, not that that is out of the ordinary. But Erwin could feel a particular restlessness about him, an itch for action, to wander outside the confines of their routine. Even when Levi himself is not aware of it.
"Securing our future," Erwin says flatly, keeping his eyes on the papers on his desk, sensing Levi's growing annoyance. He hears him snort.
"It was meant to be rhetorical, Erwin." The commander could practically hear his eyeroll. "Anyone with half a common sense knows I'm the least helpful person you can bring to charm the funding off of those fat, pampered, aristocratic asses in Sina."
"It's different this time," Erwin finally looks up, his knuckles resting on his chin.
"How so?" Levi looks at him, suspicious, one hand on his cocked waist. Were the circumstances any different, he would have looked comical, as his other hand is holding a feather duster, and he is in his full cleaning regalia of apron and bandana.
"I can't tell you, yet," Erwin tilts his head. "You will see once you're there."
"Not interested," Levi scowls. "I cannot think a scenario where you would need me to assassinate any of these fat lords. So, no." He turns back to resume his cleaning.
"This is not a request, Levi."
He turns again to face Erwin at the tone of his voice. But then he sees the corner of the commander's mouth subtly lifted into what untrained eyes might mistake as a smile.
"That's an order – " Erwin meets his eyes, " –Captain."
Levi saunters to his desk before Erwin can revert back to his papers. He puts his hands on the edge of the desk, "So throw me in detention, Commander," he hisses. "Hell, court-martial me for refusing to attend stupid perfumed balls and be your show pony."
Erwin raises an eyebrow. "A show pony, Levi? Really? I'm hurt that you reduce yourself, Humanity's Strongest, our most skilled titan slayer, as a mere that." He stares at him, his clear blue eyes betray nothing.
"I knew it!" Levi throws his hands up in the air. "I'm not going to be in your travelling freak show. Take Mike, and you can be Tall, Fabulous Blond Military Duo, or something. Or Petra, if you need someone small, pretty and definitely inoffensive. Or Hange, even, for a freak show proper."
Erwin's eyes very briefly look amused, but he says nothing.
It annoys Levi. "And this Humanity's Strongest,–" he makes a quoting gesture to emphasize the sarcasm, "– needs daily maintenance so excuse your-" more air quotes, "-most skilled titan slayer, if he would rather stick to his daily training than get fat and fawned in the capital, thank you very much."
Something shifts in Erwin's expression. He still looks amused but there's a certain mischievous glint to his eyes, and Levi doesn't like that one bit.
"Daily training, hm?" Erwin asks. "Are you saying you can't keep your training away from the base?" Levi isn't sure if it's rhetorical, so he keeps mum.
"That's nonsense and we both know it. You learned to maneuver with 3DMG off formal training base after all …" he trails off, eyes on the window overlooking the training ground. Levi thinks he has lost this thought when Erwin leans back on his chair and laces his fingers together, a gesture that, Levi has noted, he makes when he's up to no good. "Would you say I'd get fat and slow too, if I go to the capital for this, as you put it, travelling freak show?"
A pause.
But before Levi can retort, the commander continues. "Tell you what, since I just came back from Maria and have missed a week's training …"
Levi tenses.
"… Why don't we put your theory to a test?"
Levi raises his eyebrows, questioning.
"Let's spar," Erwin says, almost cheerfully. "If I win you'd agree to come with me to Mithras and few other locations we've been invited to, and to go along with related trainings to anticipate this excursion –,"
"That will not happen."
"Then you will have nothing to lose."
"And what will I get when I win?"
"Satisfaction."
"Nice try, Old Man." Levi is so incredulous he almost laughs. "Not enough incentive."
"Oh, maybe I won't make a significant dent in the cleaning budget like I plan to."
"I thought we're past blackmail."
"With you? Never. It's effective," Erwin has got up and circled his desk, leaning on it next to Levi.
Levi glares openly, arms folded, deciding that stalemate is the best option he has against Erwin's brewing plot.
"Very well," Erwin says, rolling his sleeves, "how about you indulge me with a spar, and at the very least, I promise I will never –" Levi catches Erwin's hands move from the corner of his vision, but before he can register what the commander is doing, he sees a cluster of black specks appear in what a second previous was the perfectly clean hardwood floor.
" – do this again –"
The black specks spread. Levi whips his head in horror to see Erwin, an open bottle of ink in one hand, and a his quill on another, which he proceeded to dip into the ink.
" – or this –" Levi thinks the blond bastard could not possibly look any more smug as he sees him pull the quill, fat droplets of black ink hanging on its tip, and casually flick it.
Another cluster of black stains appears on the hardwood. And Levi is vaguely aware that he's made a high, keening noise with this throat before grabbing his apron and throws himself on the floor to stop the damage from spreading.
Then a he feels something, something wet, on his cheek. He looks up and sees Erwin's blue eyes glint wickedly.
"Or this." Erwin says.
Levi realizes, belatedly, that, it was Erwin's thumb dragging along his cheek. And that that thumb has been dipped in ink.
Moblit is several paces away from Erwin's office when he hears something crash inside. His first instinct of hearing crashing sounds, thanks to Hange, is to run towards it to assess the damage and help mitigating whatever it is that has gone horribly wrong. But then he hears Levi's voice. Cursing, threatening, his usual tirade. And the sounds of struggle continue.
He sighs, debating whether to step inside whatever argument the commander is having with the captain. Then the door swings open, and out a pissed-off Levi; grey eyes blazing, hair's a mess, a black smudge on the left side of his cheek.
He sees Moblit, but doesn't seem to register him. He makes several brisk steps before stopping and turning back abruptly.
"I'LL FUCKING CHOKE YOU WITH THAT GODDAMN BOLO TIE, YOU FUCKING BLACKMAILING SHITSTAIN!" he yells, one fist out, holding a balled up stained apron that would comical if people doesn't know he has always made good of his threats of violence.
Then he's gone, turning into a corner, his stomping boots an echo in the corridor.
"Er, Commander Smith, Sir…?" Moblit cautiously peers inside Erwin's office.
Erwin is holding a bottle of ink and a quill, curiously standing instead of scribbling on his desk. But otherwise, not a hair out of place. "Come in, Berner," he says without looking.
Moblit does, and is curious. He steals glances, assessing the damages indicated by the sound he just heard. And there on the floor, he could see telltales of their argument; smudges of ink on the surface of the coffee table, and the cabinets, and on Erwin's trousers, and on Erwin's right thumb.
"Yes?" he felt Erwin's eyes on him.
"The expense report you asked, Sir," Moblit hands him the paper.
Erwin accepts it, and goes back to his desk, ink and quill back on the surface of the desk. "Thank you. You may go, unless you need anything else."
"Y-yes, Sir," he replies, and goes to the door.
"Ah, Berner," Erwin says.
Moblit turns around.
"I'll spar Captain Levi on the training ground in half an hour," he says, his eyes on the reports. "Meet me there ten minutes before…" he pauses, then meets Moblit's slightly confused gaze. "Anyone with nothing better to do may watch," he goes back to his paper. "That's all."
"Sir," Moblit says by way of acknowledgement. He turns just a second too late to see Erwin's lips curled up in amusement.
As the door click shut, Erwin lets out a sigh, then a chuckle. That still went according to plan. He enjoys this too much. And he couldn't decide if it's good or not.
Probably not.
Of course the fucking bastard would tell everyone. Levi curses silenty at the crowd gathering on the training ground, but deciding that wouldn't change the outcome of their little argument. He'll win this. See how Erwin likes public humiliation.
Wearing a uniform sans cravat and gear straps, Levi crosses the threshold of the training ground. It is a late afternoon after a drizzly morning, the sun has mellowed and the cloud and the wind made the air more pleasant. Levi rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and takes a deep breath, calming himself, pushing his irritation aside. It'll be over soon, he promises. Erwin would come, and Levi would knock him on his back and that's that. Think about Erwin as an Titan – a miniature Abberant with a perpetual smug smirk and an exceptionally developed brain. Considering their size difference, he might as well have been one.
"Levi."
He turns at Erwin's voice. Then his eyes find him and his breath hitches.
Somewhere in the background Mike whistles.
Erwin approaches the training ground, trailed by Moblit. And Erwin wears nothing. Well, almost. He wears the uniform's standard-issue pair of white trousers, rolled up to his knees. And that's it, not even a pair of boots.
And he has the gall to smile at Levi. "No bolo tie, just in case," he says.
Levi unfortunately cannot think of a come back, concentrating every ounce of his will not to let his eyes linger on the commander's well-sculpted everything. As he does this, however, a stray thought about how Erwin's skin would feel against his own slips through. Mercifully it is cut short by the sound of Erwin clearing his throat.
"Good afternoon, everyone," he begins.
Good God, he's fucking addressing the crowd, Levi thinks. How did the argument in his office turned into this public spectacle? Precisely, why? Erwin is not one for spectacles, he is all about plotting.
"It's a pleasant afternoon. I would say it's too pleasant even, seeing so many of you here don't have anything better to do!" he says light-heartedly, to which the crowd – about thirty-odds of them- replies with a smattering of laughter. "I may have to have a talk about that with your commanding officers later but for now, Captain Levi and I will spar."
He turns and gestures at Levi, who does his best to be his usual impassive self.
"The Captain and I had this little argument and decided to make a wager out if it. Whoever knocks the other to the ground three times first, wins. Should Captain Levi win this, I will assign some of you – as clearly you have the extra time in your hands – to be his personal cleaning squad, to be tasked as he sees fit –"
There are collective gasps from the crowd, likely from horror. Levi suspects they were from the junior scouts who know fuck-all about cleaning. Levi leans on a training post, folding his arms, suspicious but not exactly unhappy. They didn't talk about this barter, or the rule of the three before he stormed out Erwin's office but it's not like he hasn't felled beasts much larger than Erwin, plus he doesn't mind having extra pairs of hands to command, however sub-par their cleanliness is.
"Now should I win, and I assure you I plan to, I'll be taking the Captain out of your hair for three weeks, at least–"
Levi makes a mental note to remember those who can't contain their glee in the prospect of not having him breathing down their necks for those next three weeks.
"Now, Levi," he beckons, and Levi brushes aside part of his thoughts that notices how the sun make Erwin's skin glisten and his hair a golden sheen.
They take their stances, an apprehensive Moblit in the middle.
At Moblit's signal, Levi crouches low, and launches a round of kicks aimed at Erwin's legs. The commander manages to block them, and with a fluid motion he locks the ankle of Levi's boot with his hands.
Perfect. Levi leverages his weight on his hands and kicks Erwin with his free leg. It would have connected with Erwin's torso but for something. It hasn't registered on Levi yet, maybe Erwin changes his stance at the last second, but his kicks just glide on Erwin skin, and don't make an impact he's been expecting.
He quickly recovers, and twists his ankle free from Erwin's grip, and falls back several steps. Agility and distance are his friends when dealing with a long-limbed, much-larger opponent than him like Erwin. But the commander knows this and doesn't let him catch his breath before he retaliates.
Erwin's jabs are fast and so powerful they are best evaded than blocked. Levi needs to put a distance between them, fast, before one of the blows lands on him. And there, as he ducks, he finds an opening and brings up his elbow to connect with Erwin. And then it happens again, the blow doesn't land quite as hard as it should. And Levi's skin informs him why.
Oil.
There's a reason after all, for the sheen on Erwin's skin.
Then Erwin has Levi's arms locked and twisted.
"You dirty bastard!" Levi hisses between the efforts to break free from his hold.
He hears Erwin chuckle. Then the ground goes from beneath him as Erwin kicks his legs. He barely registers Moblit announcing Erwin's first score, all sense burning with indignation.
They take their position again.
"Oil, Erwin?" he says through gritted teeth.
"My old bones need it." Erwin shrugs, the ever infuriating smirk on his lips.
Then Levi rains blows and kicks so fast Erwin is forced to take few steps back to block them. Levi counts, striking strategically to get Erwin in the right position. And at that precise moment one of Erwin's leg is bent forward in the right position. He uses it as a spring board, stepping on Erwin's thigh, and throwing his weight to slam Erwin squarely in the chest with both of his knees.
He has Erwin sprawled in the ground, wheezing. But his smirk is intact.
Sitting on top of him, Levi puts his index finger on Erwin's chest and whispers, punctuating every words with a jab. "Dont think oil will save you pain, asshole. I will. Beat the shit. Out of you." He gets up as Moblit announces their scores.
As the round progresses it becomes clear that the oil has made Erwin a really, really slippery opponent. And it starts to rub on Levi as well, literally, thanks to their skin on skin contact. Levi starts to feel really really disgusted with all of this. He needs to settle the score, fast, and take a shower. The only part of Erwin where full-blown contact would land is the clothed part of him.
Well, he could strike that most vulnerable part of any male human being out there, he supposes - a vulnerable part a normal-size titans lack. Not at all an honorable fighting move. But Erwin has been the one who has smeared honor with ink and oil and threw it out of the window. Levi has no qualms.
So he does it.
And the crowd, the ones that are close enough to see it happened, gasp and wince. Erwin lets out a barely audible grunt, but otherwise unmoved. But the pain is evident in the eyes and the knit of his eyebrows. And by how he's not making any moves to block Levi's two subsequent kicks. Then Erwin's down.
Levi looks at Moblit when few seconds pass without him announcing the score. "Well? Blond Oaf here is not exactly free of dirty tricks either, is he? You would know. Announce the score, Deputy Squad Leader Oily Hands."
And so Moblit announced. 2-1 for Captain Levi. it's almost over.
"Need more time, Old Man?" Levi crouches near Erwin.
The commander picks himself up, groaning, his expression an equal mix of pained and astonished. But strangely to Levi, he isn't looked unamused.
"That was unexpected of you," he sucks a big gulp of air and huffs, blond hair falling on his sweaty forehead. Levi secretly takes pleasure in seeing the habitually immaculate commander in such a disheveled state.
"You started it," Levi accuses.
"I was banking on how you hate dirty… stuff." Erwin takes his stance.
"I grew up on the underground, you oaf. Think a man's sweaty balls the worst thing I've touched?" Levi wipes his right hand on his shirt.
"Fair enough," Erwin lowers his center of gravity, both hands out. "See how dirty you can play."
"Tch," Levi clicks his tongue in challenge, and takes his position.
He means to end this quickly, his body thrums with anticipation. At Moblit's signal, he pounces at Erwin, forcing the commander to take few steps back, giving his enough room to gather speed. He circles Erwin, and leaps, using the momentum to climb him, just like he climbs titan. But this time he means to choke with his thighs.
He almost, almost manages to wrap his thighs around Erwin's neck when the commander tilts his head up, and looks at him and grins. He knows he's lost the point before it happens. Erwin grasps Levi's legs with iron grips and bends backwards, letting his upper body falls away, and Levi with it. The crowd gasps.
The impact knocks his breath out, Erwin easily extracts himself from the choke of his legs, and springs upright once again.
The crowd answers Moblit's announcement of their scores with cheers. And Levi realizes the ground he's lying upon is wet and muddy from the rain that morning.
Fucking hell, he misses his 3DMG.
Levi stays low on the next round, quick but cautious, and prefers to launches swift combos of kicks and punches then retreat to a safe distance in an effort to tire or coax Erwin to show an opening, whichever comes first.
But the commander seems to be content just by blocking his moves, and steers them to the muddier area of the training ground.
"Mud, too?" Levi says between jabs.
"Why not?" Erwin says between blocks.
Then Levi ducks a second too slow and Erwin's fist boxes the side of his head. He rolls with Erwin's next punch, somewhat registering that they are slowly coating themselves in mud. He realized too late that the muddy ground has made it difficult to maintain the safe distance between him and Erwin. And that the commander is now on the offensive.
He refuses to panic when Erwin manages to sling an arm around his neck. He elbows him hard, but Erwin catches his arm and twists it.
"Yield, Levi," Erwin's breath is hot on his ears.
Levi responds by lifting both this legs and bring them down hard on Erwin's knees. Erwin grunts, but his chokehold on Levi does not budge. They are caked in mud, and between the choke, the sweat, the oil and Erwin's breath and heartbeats, all Levi wants to do is get away and jumps into a body of fresh water somewhere.
Then everything goes dark.
When he comes to, he is lying on the mud.
Fuck.
Erwin is hovering above him with a bottle of water, smiling. The crowd has dispersed.
"Be in the third floor hall after dinner, eight sharp," he says, offering the water.
Needless to say, Erwin has won.
Fuck.
Instead of taking the water he grips Erwin's wrist and wraps his arm with both of his legs and twists.
Erwin yelps and tumbles into the mud.
"Fuckin' bastard," Levi says, wrenching the water bottle from his hand and dousing himself with its content. "That was a whole lot of fuss and a new level of low, even for you."
Erwin chuckles and sits up. "I had to do what I had to do, Levi," he says. He looks so pleased with himself, and so utterly unbothered by all the filth surrounding and coating their skins, Levi would have kicked him in the face if it weren't for the overwhelming urge to get away to clean up. He gets up, grimacing at the squelching sounds of the mud, and leaves without sparing Erwin a glance.
"Wear comfortable clothes," he hears Erwin say. "Let's see if you're as good dancing on your feet as you are in the air."
Oh God,
action is super hard you guys...
the next chapter should be easier to write,
Kudos, comments, are lovely :)
and send me your suggestions and speculations!
tags will be updated as story progresses.
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