I don't own SNK, I just cry over Squad Levi.

This is just a cute little one-shot I've had sitting on my computer for a few months. Inspired by the one and only Chef Ramsay XD Enjoy!


Their squad has been together for approximately six months now, and they were all gradually, somewhat awkwardly, falling into a routine with one another. Dinner was no longer a silent affair over vegetable stew and coffee or tea, but a mix a Gunther and Auruo arguing over who got to eat the last loaf of bread (Petra had a not-so-secret fondness for snagging it from the plate while they were too distracted flinging potatoes at each other), of Petra all but shoving a book of poetry into Eld's hands—he has the most relaxing reading voice—or, most recently, Petra yelling at Auruo to stop mimicking Captain Levi, his newest obsession. Last night was no exception.

"Stop nagging at me like a wife, woman! Unless you have plans to change that arrangement?"

"Now you're really doing an awful job of copying the captain—he would never speak to me that way in a million years!"

From his spot at the head of the table, Levi contemplated telling Petra to stop nagging, just to see the expression her face would contour into, all sharp lines, her hair a fiery halo framing her face. Riling her up further would offer him no benefit, nor would he condone the glass ceiling of the military. Petra had earned her place among their squad just as much as the rest of them. He sighed into his tea, eyes closed, and the moment passed.


But tonight was a new experience. Auruo played his usual cards: gazing into the distance with his chin in his palm, lifting his tea cup to his lips with his fingertips, his cravat impeccably pressed at his throat. Gunther and Eld discussed their plans for the next time they went home and how much they missed their families. Levi quietly drank his tea. Petra brought out a bowl of fresh fruit for dessert—a rare delicacy of berries that she had stumbled upon near the river that morning.

As she placed the bowl on the table, Auruo pulled her in close and ruffled her hair. "Good little Petra. Always can be counted on in the kitchen. Damn nice to have a lady on the team."

Military men teased their fellow female soldiers as such since the cadet days. Petra was no stranger to it and, upon an inhale to properly squawk that her comrade is a complete imbecile with all the charm of a soggy boot, the imbecile himself was launched to the side by a tug upon his cravat.

Petra blinked in the sudden whirlwind of motion, doing a double take when she sees Auruo's face smushed expertly between two pieces of stale bread ends.

The Captain held the bread.

No one spoke.

"Auruo," he drew his subordinate's name out, tasting it on his tongue like a fine vintage wine. "Need I remind you who has the higher kill count between you and Petra?"

"But, sir, my solo—"

"It's for your own good that I'm reminding you, dumbass. Don't want you to shit yourself when she hands your own ass to you."

Petra tried desperately not to laugh, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip with bruising force. Only when Eld let his soldier façade fall, an easy grin arching across his mouth, did she relax enough to release a muffled giggle into the back of her hand.

"I—yes, sir." Auruo wilted. He made to sit back down, but Levi pressed the bread that much harder into the other's cheeks.

"I want to hear you say it. What the fuck are you?"

"An idiot sandwich, sir!"

"Damn right you are."

Gunther grinned. "I guess Auruo gets the last of the bread tonight!"