Author's Note: As always, I don't own SNK. The idea for this fanfic actually came from a conversation my friend and I were having, and I decided I really wanted to write it. So I hope you enjoy robo Eren and yoga instructor Levi. Heaven knows I do. Oh, one more note. The story is set in 2055 mainly because I wanted Eren to have a kind of cool futuristic prosthetic arm and because I wanted to be able to make up some of the science-y stuff about prosthetics instead of having to research it. Yeah, I'm lazy. That's about it. I'll update whenever I can. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think. :)
Chapter 1: I Want My Fucking Arm Back
Blood and fire and smoke and fear, and he was a part of it. He heard them screaming, but they were background noise. He heard the screaming often enough that it seemed an inherent part of his surroundings. Comforting, in a way. As long as people moaned, it meant they were still alive. He got on with his life while his comrades got on with their deaths, and he picked up his sword and lowered the screen on his plate mail and clunked forward through the ash-covered ground. He was a knight now, but a soldier, then, when it had happened. He was fighting a dragon now, but then, when it happened, he had been fighting other soldiers like him who were supposed to be the enemy despite having done him no wrong. He was a hero now, but a murderer then, when it happened. His dream was his government's reality. War was heroic to them, because they hadn't seen it.
He raised his sword and ran forward to accost his dragon. In the real version, he had been fighting pawns, the same as him, the subjects of governments who covered the gray matter of morality with a tarp and made them choose a side. Black or white. Then, they played chess. No rules, just victory. No reality, just lies.
He dodged attacks. He went for his enemy. He missed because over ambitious pawns are useless in singles and he was only meant as a sacrifice for a rook or a bishop or a queen or a government to walk over. That wasn't exactly how it happened, but he heard the swoosh of a sword and then felt the cold metal contact with the warm flesh of his arm and slice through it. The bloody meat of his arm dropped on the ground, twitched a bit. The pawn fell.
He screamed. He was still alive.
Eren Jaeger felt like he was still burning. Sweat dribbled down his face and made it look like he was crying. Maybe he was. His stupid hospital nightgown bunched up around his upper thighs and clung to the sweaty, shaky appendages. He couldn't even brush the hair out of his eyes. One arm was hooked up to an IV and the other—he didn't want to see it. Denial was a foreign concept to most until they had their own problems. Turning his head to the side, he winced as it popped. Not everywhere was injured, but everywhere was sore. Tense, like he was in a constant adrenaline rush.
Sun filtered through the blinds and fell onto the small table beside the window and the vase of flowers atop it. So many colors, especially after all he had known for the longest time was red. Armin and Mikasa had visited, sometime, but he hadn't been fully awake then. That was the first time he'd seen his arm. They had to sedate him.
An opportune knock distracted him from his unpleasant memories, though those were few and fuzzy. Especially the war part. Just red.
"Jaeger?"
He didn't answer. As soon as he tried to, the parched words cracked to dust. His mouth tasted like the Sahara.
"It's Dr. Hanji. I'm coming in."
Now that he was awake, he didn't want to go back to sleep, not even to weasel his way out of a conversation he was not prepared to have. He turned his head the other way, toward the door. A woman in a white coat ducked under the entrance and pulled a pen out of her purple hair.
"Still not awake, huh? You can't sleep here forever, you know, especially since I've cleared you. You're taking up— Oh."
She noticed his sea green eyes staring at her, and then she smiled and clapped her hands. "Good morning, my guinea pig!" She sang, pulling a chair up to his bedside.
"Shut up," Eren groaned, wanting to cover his ears against the doctor's loud shouts and the hospital room's ringing silence. These weren't the sounds he was used to. They were distinctly civilian.
"Let me give you an overview of your situation, since you fell asleep the first time I tried to tell you."
Dr. Hanji adjusted a button on the base of Eren's bed and raised the mattress into a sitting position.
"How much do you remember?" She asked.
He wrinkled his eyebrows. After sleeping for so long—how long?—it was difficult to sift nightmares from memories. He swirled his tongue around in his mouth and moistened his lips. Saliva wasn't water, but for now it would have to suffice.
"There was a raid on our base. I know that, but I can't remember any of the war before that point, at all. We fought them, but we were caught off guard. We had been eating dinner, I think. There was an explosion, a bomb. After that," he said, "I just remember dreams. In all of them there was red—fire, blood—and somehow I always lost my arm.
"Then, I wake up and see Armin and Mikasa and this, this goddamn chunk of metal spouting out of my shoulder. Then you sedated me."
Dr. Hanji grinned shyly, rubbed her hands together. She didn't look at all apologetic. "You may be suffering from short term memory loss due to the trauma."
Eren glared at her. If he didn't have a needle in his functional arm (did that other bucket of bolts even work?), then he would have thrown something. "I was in the war for four years. You call that short term?"
"I'm not a psychologist." She rolled her eyes.
"You don't sound like a doctor, either," Eren muttered.
"I wanted to be a scientist," she said, sighing. "I had to settle for taking care of dumbasses like you."
Eren jerked his head toward his arm. "This is proper care taking?"
"Oh!" She instantly perked up. "Let me explain your condition.
"Your right arm from your armpits down had to be amputated. You were covered in deep wounds when you were flown in, and honestly, I thought you would bleed out. We removed the bits of shrapnel as best we could and stitched up the gashes in your left arm, legs, and upper back. Now comes the interesting part." Dr. Hanji adjusted her glasses and flipped a page on her clipboard. "Instead of giving you the traditional style prosthetic limb, I decided to try this new model. It was approved years ago, but I haven't heard of it actually being used often. I won't bore you with specifics—"
Thank God.
"But it was engineered to more efficiently function with your body and nervous system." She smiled, her gaze reaching to a faraway place. In her eyes Eren saw that her passion really was science."It's only 2055 and look at what we're already coming up with." Somehow he felt that her use of the personal pronoun was a longing to be a part of the creations with which she was enamored.
"I don't like it." Eren said, scowling down at the metallic limb, which was a dull gray color. It lacked the detail of a real arm. Sure, there was a crease at the elbow and bony knobs on the wrist and lines on his palms and fingers, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't his. It was clunky and awkward and heavy and unfamiliar and he just wanted his own goddamn arm.
Dr. Hanji frowned, as if he had offended her by disparaging his arm. "But it's a marvel of technology!"
"It's not my arm."
She shook her head and sighed. "You'll become accustomed to it. You have to, if you want it to work."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"If you reject your arm, it will reject you. It's a part of a body now, so make it feel at home."
Eren snorted. "Are you telling me this scrap metal is sentient?"
"It's not that simple, Jaeger," she said. "I've put together a prosthetic limb care kit for you—"
"Whoopie."
"So please read the manual and follow it in order for your new arm to function optimally. You'll also need to go to therapy for both your arm and your injuries. I've put the contact information for Blue Wings, a yoga and therapy gym, in your kit as well. Of course I'll be checking in on my guinea pig frequently, too." Hanji held out her hand. "Here's my card."
Eren reached out for it with his right hand, because it was closer, because it was his dominant hand, because he forgot that that was not his real arm. His wrist spasmed as he reached for the card, and instead of grabbing it, his hand crashed into a glass lamp on the nightstand beside him. It shattered easily, sparks flying as the glass exploded into pieces.
"See?" Dr. Hanji said. "It doesn't like you yet."
"I want my fucking arm back." Eren growled, holding his palm open so she could drop it in his hand. He tried to close his fingers around it, but they just wiggled like he was waving. He grunted as he tried to force them to close. Eventually, they snapped shut, tightly enough to crush the card. Now he couldn't pry them open again.
He sighed and leaned back into the bed. Everything was hopeless.
Dr. Hanji placed her hand on his forearm, and if he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have known it was there. He couldn't feel it. His arm was lifeless and empty, and the rest of him was beginning to feel that way, too.
"Don't force it," she said. "It will come. Now, before we get you dressed and ready to go, do you have any questions?"
"I have a complaint."
She narrowed her eyes. For all her smiles and giggles, she could be pretty damn intimidating.
"Is this waterproof? You know, like my real arm."
"Yes, actually. It's been electroplated with silver to decelerate the rusting process and coated in lacquer to insulate against moisture, heat, and cold. Within reasonable amounts, of course, so don't try anything stupid with it."
"Will I ever regain feeling?" He wasn't talking about just his arm.
The doctor shrugged. "Who knows. I don't know about your memories, either, but I can recommend you to a psychologist. It's funny," she said, "we lose one thing, and sometimes it comes back, sometimes another thing replaces it. Sometimes nothing fills its place, and we walk around with holes in our lives and we leak a little, but we get on with living."
Humiliating. Like losing an arm wasn't enough. No, no of course it wasn't. The whole universe wanted to walk on Eren Jaeger and shove his face into a mud puddle of misery. He wasn't just the government' pawn now, but Fate's or God's or whomever felt like using him as a punching bag. Take a pick. Spin the wheel and find out who gets to torture Jaeger today.
A wheelchair. They had forced him to be rolled out of the hospital in the wheelchair. He could walk. (That was something of a lie.) Mikasa demanded it, and Armin went along with it, despite Eren's string of unconvincing assurances that he was fine. God, he wished his arm worked so he could punch through a wall and not feel a thing. But no, his goddamn fingers wouldn't unclench and let go of the fucking doctor's card.
"Stop pouting," Mikasa said, making eye contact with him in the rear view mirror as they drove to pick up his meds.
Armin sat in the backseat with him, to make sure he didn't pass out or go berserko or malfunction because he was a cyborg and not their friend, not a human, not anymore. They didn't say it or act it or show it, but that was how he felt. Like a monster.
Give me my arm back and I will, he thought, but he just stared out the window, brooding, and said, "I don't pout."
"How do you feel?" Armin asked.
"Not crazy. Not murderous. Not like some bloodthirsty monster, so stop tiptoeing around me like I'm going to snap!"
The blonde's eyes widened and glazed over, watery with wounds. "I just worried that you were in pain." His voice trailed off, afraid. Afraid of what? Angering him? Setting him off?
Eren sighed, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the window. He didn't have enemies anymore, no one to battle, no reason to be on edge. But his adrenaline wouldn't leave him alone; it found threats for him, twisted friends into foes and benevolence into malice. He knew he was at fault. He should apologize. He should be able to see through the red haze that stained his eyes, but it was hard to look beyond what was there in his lungs, his heart, his mind. Blood.
"Sorry, Armin," he mumbled. "I feel like I can't relax, ever. I've been on edge for four years. I don't know anything else."
Armin smiled and wiped his eyes with his scarf. "You're not in the war anymore. You're with friends, so it's okay to let your defenses fall. It's okay to heal. No matter how long it takes."
"Yeah." Mikasa said from the front seat. "It's time to be my little brother again."
"Stupid." Eren rolled his eyes. "I'm always your brother. But don't call me little, got it?"
Mikasa parked the car at Rite-Aid and left the keys in the ignition. "I'll pick up your medicine. You two stay here."
"I want to come." Eren protested.
"You can't walk."
"Armin will help me, right?" Eren smiled, throwing his left arm around the blonde's shoulder.
"Um..."
Eren Jaeger could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. All the evidence was in his maniacal smile as Armin helped him limp through the store. There was no real reason he had to be inside, and he knew that, but he just wanted to catch the last shred of his independence before it floated away on the wind.
No one even blinked at his prosthetic or the fact that he had someone to half drag, half carry him through the store. No one noticed him at all. Mikasa had told him not to join the military. It wasn't worth the risk of his life. Soldiers were invisible. He hated to think it.
Mikasa was right.
"All right, come on." She found them in the hygiene aisle, giggling about the scents of men's deodorant. Grizzly bear. Lightning storm. Hardwood.
She sighed. "What are you, thirteen?"
Eren held out a loofa and a sponge to her. "Since I'm injured, will you give me a sponge bath?"
"I would rather spray myself in the eyes with Axe."
They all laughed and Eren clutched his stomach as if to hold on to his happiness as tightly as his metallic arm had gripped the card. Maybe it didn't matter that he was transparent to the rest of the world. So long as at least one person cared about him, he didn't think he was truly invisible.
As they made their way to the checkout counter, a little boy strayed from his mother and tugged on Eren's pants' leg. "Woah, mister, your arm looks super cool! Can I touch it?"
Eren laughed, surprised, shy, and pleased, and got Armin to help him kneel down to the boy's level. "Watch out for the fingers. They bite."
The boy giggled and trailed his hand along Eren's forearm, poking it, squeezing it. "You're like Bucky Barnes," he whispered.
Eren's eyes widened. That was a name he hadn't heard in a long time.
"Man, this is awesome! I wish I could have an arm like this."
No, you don't.
"Are you a soldier?" he asked.
Eren nodded. "I was. Four years in active duty."
The boy stood and bowed at the waist. "Thank you for your service."
"Jared," the boy's mother called, coming back for what she had lost. "Keep up, please." To Eren, she said, "I'm sorry if he's caused you trouble."
He shook his head. In fact, the boy's effect on him was the exact opposite.
"Bye, mister!" Jared waved as his mother pulled him away. "I'm gonna be a soldier too! Just like you when I grow up."
Eren smiled. He was very glad he had wanted to come inside.
The car ride back home was discernibly less tense. Eren talked more, asking if Mikasa and Armin still lived in the home they had inherited from their parent's when they passed. They did, and Mikasa had kept up Eren's room for him, all these years, waiting for him to come home, hoping he'd come back alive. He asked how their respective careers had developed during the time he was away. Armin had finished school and become an environmental scientist. Mikasa was nearing completion of medical school to become a pediatrician.
"Look at you. My siblings are both geniuses and I chose to go off to the military," Eren sighed. His statement was mostly a joke, for even now he didn't really regret becoming a soldier. He'd achieved his dream, and they, theirs. Theirs had just worked out better.
"I told you I would have come with you." Mikasa said.
"And I told you no. I knew that this could happen, and it's better this way." Better me than you.
"Let's go home and eat," Armin said, desperately trying to lighten the mood.
Eren let the conversation be herded away, toward pleasanter thoughts, but he didn't talk as much the rest of the way home. The drive wasn't that long, but Eren was snoring by the time they arrived, the dull vibrations of the car and the warm air blowing against his face having lulled him to sleep.
"I'll help you walk," Armin said, unbuckling his seat belt, "but I'm not carrying you."
"Maybe we should have gotten him crutches." Mikasa looked back at him, slouched in his seat with his head against the frosty window.
Eren felt something shaking his left arm, his fleshy arm. It was warm and persistent. Out of reflex his right arm swung out in the direction of whatever was touching him.
Armin screamed, and he would have been punched in the face if he hadn't ducked down in the space between the front and back seats in time.
Eren's eyes flew open and saw the dent in the inner car door, the door Armin had just been leaning against. Then he saw Armin hunched below the seats, hands over his face. He was ashamed.
"It's not your fault." Armin tried to console him as he helped Eren into the house.
"Are you telling me that I didn't try to punch you?" Eren snapped.
"Look," Mikasa said, stepping inside and holding the front door open for them, "we're all just going to have to adjust to each other again. It's been almost eight years since we've seen each other."
Armin helped Eren sit down on the couch, but in reality he just sort of flopped down on the cushions and stretched his body out until his legs hung over the armrest on one side. The couch smelled a little old, but good. It smelled like the tangles of siblings' limbs as they fought for space while they watched a movie. It smelled like extra-buttery popcorn stains and Popsicles and spilled coffee and hot chocolate. It smelled like childhood, and home. Eren burrowed his face into the cushions and breathed deeply. All the mixtures of fragrances greeted him as if the couch were welcoming him home.
"Eren?" Mikasa called from the kitchen. "What do you want to eat?"
The couch pillows muddled his words and made them sound like gibberish. He sat up, his hair mussed from nesting into the cushions. "No food. I want Armin to make me his hot chocolate and s'mores."
Mikasa groaned, glaring at him. "You need something healthy."
Eren smirked. "Would you please read the picture on the fridge with the the toy soldier magnets around the sides?"
"'I, Mikasa Jaeger, hereby agree to allow my brother Eren Jaeger to eat Armin's s'mores and hot chocolate for dinner when he returns from the war.'"
She rolled her eyes and walked out of the kitchen, sitting down in the giant blue armchair on the other side of the couch, beside the floor to ceiling window. "Spoiled ass," she said, taking the remote from him.
He snatched it back. "Tonight is wounded baby brother's movie night, so I get to pick."
"Well?" she prompted as he scrolled through hundreds of movies on Netflix.
"X-Men Days of Future Past," he smiled, pressing play.
"But that's so old," Mikasa complained, "and we've seen it a million times."
Eren stuck his tongue out. "Are you the wounded baby brother?"
"Aw, DOFP again?" Armin said as he brought a tray full of s'mores into the living room and set it down on the coffee table. After two more trips, everyone had a steaming mug of hot chocolate in their hands, gooey delicious s'mores in their mouths, and their were no more arguments.
They stayed up watching TV until 11, enough time for everyone to watch something they wanted to see. Mikasa watched the first episode of the new Sherlock season 4, and Armin watched the first part of the Hobbit. By the end of it, Mikasa was sleeping with her head in Eren's lap. Armin was smiling and wide awake. Eren was middling somewhere in between asleep and awake.
"Don't wake Mikasa—"
"That's kind of difficult since she's using me as a bed, Armin. Beds aren't supposed to get up and limp away."
"Just slide her head onto a pillow and help me clean up this food."
Somehow Eren managed to do that without waking her—she was a light sleeper—and he hobbled to the kitchen, using furniture as support. Armin washed and dried the dishes and Eren watched, falling asleep with his head on the countertop.
"At least help me put these in the dish rack."
Again Eren reached out with the wrong arm. His fingers tried to close around the handle of the mug, but they missed and it slipped through and crashed to the floor in tiny ceramic pieces. Eren stared at the mess on the floor.
"It's okay," Armin began to say, but Eren curled his metallic hand into a fist and slammed it on the counter top. The dishes in the rack rattled, and when he pulled his hand away, there was a crack in the granite counter.
"Damn it!" He screamed. He ran upstairs to his bedroom and slammed the door, not even bothering to turn the lights on.
The curtains were open. Moonlight streamed in, washing everything silver and turning his metal arm a hideous color. The light illuminated the posters that covered every inch of his wall. Wolverine. Magneto. Iron Man. Hulk. Thor. Superman. Beast. Nick Fury. Clint Barton. Black Widow. Wonder Woman. Captain America. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.
When he saw the poster of Bucky, he pounded his fist into the wall, again, again. He ripped off the part of the picture showing Bucky's metal arm, crumpled it, and threw it in the trash.
Why did he have to have that stupid dream? Why did he have to want to be a soldier? Why did he want to be just like Bucky Barnes except a good guy? Now he was just like him, and it was the worst dream come true.
He limped to his bed and lied down on his stomach. His sheets smelled clean and fresh, impersonal. Not like home. Maybe it had been home for him eight years ago, but not now.
He heard footsteps tread across the carpet, linger at the door, and then finally knock.
"It's not locked." Meaning, I'm not shutting you out. Yet. He rolled over on his back when she came inside.
Mikasa came in and put several bottles of pills and a Dasani on his desk. Then a plastic bag filled with brochures and booklets. Dr. Hanji's stupid prosthetic care kit.
"Eren..."
"No."
She walked over to the side of the bed, touched his metal arm. "Maybe you look different on the outside, but you're still you, Eren." She brushed his hair aside and kissed his forehead. "In here."
"Girl germs." He mumbled, smirking a little as Mikasa laughed.
"Earlier today, I called and made an appointment at Blue Wings for you. Tomorrow at 1:00."
"Not going," Eren said.
"They're just going to examine you to see what kind of therapy plan you'll need in the future. You don't have to do anything."
"I have to get out of bed and put clothes on."
"Lazy ass," she said as she left and closed the door behind her.
Groaning, he dragged himself across the room first to turn on the light and then to his desk. He sat down and picked his way through the information on his desk. First, his prescription information. When to take which pill, how many times a day, the side effects, what not to take it with. He wasn't in unbearable pain right now, so he decided to put off taking any medicine until the morning. He did chug half the bottle of water in one go, though. Next he flipped through the brochures, trying not to laugh at the titles.
Your Prosthetic Limb and You. How to Care for Your New Prosthetic. Integrating Your New Prosthetic into Your Life. Sex and Your Prosthetic—
Wow okay. Why did Dr. Hanji think he would need that one. He dropped it into the trash bin, suppressing chills. Then, after he moment he retrieved it and locked it in one of his desk drawers. Who knows, he might need it someday.
Ha. Right. Wishful thinking.
He pulled out the last booklet from the bag, a thick, professional looking one compared to the others. Pro-4.0, Your New Model Prosthetic Limb Manual.
He turned the desk lamp on and started reading.
IntroductionWelcome to your new prosthetic limb. Unlike old style prosthetics, Pro-4.0 does not need to be removed except for a monthly examination by your prosthetist. As your body adapts to it, Pro-4.0 will become as fully versatile as your original limb. Advances in sensors, microprocessing chips, targeted muscle reinnervation (TMR), neural interfacing and myoelectrics will help Pro-4.0 to respond and cooperate with your body and mind more than any prosthetic limb before it...
Eren read well into the night and the following morning. When Armin and Mikasa peeped into his room to check on him after he missed breakfast, they found him asleep, using his Pro-4.0 manual as a headrest, the rest of his brochures scattered across his desk.
"Wake up. Eren."
He yawned and his eyelids fluttered, but he didn't wake.
"Eren. Don't make me get the ice tray."
He gurgled something in his sleep.
"I know you hear me. Wake up, or you don't eat."
His head slowly lifted, and he glared at her with dead eyes. He scrubbed the side of his face, wiping off drool, and then drank the rest of his water. "What time is it?"
"Eleven in the morning."
"Oh."
"Go eat," she said, "and then Armin will help you take a bath and get dressed."
"What?" He yelled, waking up instantly. "Armin is not going to give me a bath."
"But that's why we bought the loofa." Mikasa smiled. It was evil.
"Stop joking."
"I don't see the issue. We all used to play in the bath together when we were little."
"Okay but I'm 26, Armin's 27, and you're 28. If we did that now, it would be weird."
Mikasa shrugged. "If you feel awkward just tell yourself no homo."
"That's incest! And that's not why it's awkward anyway. I just want to be able to do something on my own."
"I know, but you smiled, didn't you?" She patted him on his shoulder. "Fine, Armin will sit inside and you tell him if you need him."
Eren ended up needing him. A lot. He spent ten minutes splashing in the tub like a fish before he finally caved and asked Armin to help him.
"Hey, the ducks are still here." Eren said, trying to take his mind off the fact that his adopted brother was giving him a bath.
"Yeah. Sometimes I still play with them. It's not as fun by yourself, though."
Eren smiled, recalling fond memories of the three of them racing the ducks from one end of the tub to the other, splashing and paddling to try to make the waves go faster. Sometimes they played until the water got cold and Mikasa would try to scold them but she just ended up laughing, too.
"I miss being a kid. I'm not even thirty but I feel like I should have a beard as white and long as Gandalf's."
Armin sighed, squeezing the soap out of the loofa and helping Eren out of the tub. "That's what growing up does. Especially when you go off to war."
"Armin?" Eren said as he dried off. "When I'm better, let's all race the ducks again."
"Woah," Eren breathed as Armin pulled up to the Blue Wings complex.
There were six separate buildings on the premises, plus a track, a basketball court, a tennis court, a golf course, a pool, and a beautiful park, and he didn't doubt there were tons of other facilities he couldn't see from where they were parked.
"How are we going to pay for this? Mikasa's got her student loans, and I can't work right now—"
Armin laughed. "It's a good thing I handle our money instead of you. Mikasa doesn't have any loans to pay back. She's been valedictorian practically every year since she started college, so she's been going to school on full scholarships. I've already paid mine back. College isn't as expensive as it used to be, thankfully. As for how we're going to pay for this, medical care is also a lot more efficient than it used to be, and wounded soldiers and veterans get better pensions now. Pretty soon Mikasa will be working, too, so money really won't be an issue."
A surprised, ecstatic laugh bubbled up out of Eren as he danced in his seat. Maybe he got a little too happy, though, because his attempt at a fist pump ended with his prosthetic arm leaving a dent in the roof of the car.
"Come on," Armin said, helping him out of the car, "before you break the van."
"Sorry, but this is amazing. It's the first time we haven't had to worry about money or food or anything!"
"See what you've been missing out on while you were gone?"
Eren smiled. Everything wasn't hopeless.
"So which building are we in?" He asked.
Armin looked at the information Mikasa had written down for them. "Heichou Complex, the main building."
"Do you think my physical therapist will be cute?" Eren said as they walked inside the complex, laughing when Armin glared at him.
"That's the last thing you need to be worried about."
Eren shrugged. "But they gave me a brochure on how to have sex. Don't you think I need to practice using my arm?"
The blonde looked like he was about to puke. "Please stop."
Inside, they were directed into a reception area and waiting room. A few people sat on the fancy floral couches and chairs in the room, reading books and magazines from the shelves along the wall or watching one of the televisions dispersed about the antechamber. Armin and Eren checked in at the front desk, and the clerk have Eren a clipboard with medical questions to fill out while they waited.
"You're staying?" Eren asked when Armin sat down on the couch beside him.
"Mikasa and I both took the week off when we found out you were being released, so I don't have anything else to do."
"Sorry." He hated that they were missing school and work for his sake.
They fell into a cosy silence while Eren filled out the information sheet. After a while, he looked up and said, "Hey, Armin? I have a question."
His brother closed the book he'd picked up, marking his place with his finger. "Sure."
"Am I or have I ever been pregnant?"
Armin burst out laughing and Eren joined in, but they had to quiet it down when they started receiving concerned looks from some of the other patients.
"Can you please take this seriously?" Armin said, after he had recovered.
"No."
Eren finished filling out the questionnaire, occasionally showing Armin questions that made them chuckle. When he was done, Armin took the clipboard back up to the clerk, and then they waited. The waiting room cleared as those before him were called back, and then new patients began to come in when a woman dressed in white scrubs opened a side door and said,
"Jaeger, Eren."
"Do you want me to come?" Armin asked as he helped Eren up.
"I can barely walk, and one of my arms is an uncontrollable death machine. Of course I fucking want you to come. Besides," he grinned, "you'll pay attention and take notes for me."
"Elementary through high school all over again." Armin sighed under his breath.
The woman led them through a hall lined with numbered doors on each side and stopped at one marked 19. "Please wait inside. The doctors will be with you shortly."
Doctors? Plural?
The room was nice, for an examination room. There was a bay window across from the door with a view of the park, comfortable chairs for any visitors who accompanied the patient, and the exam table looked like an actual bed. It even had pillows.
"This place is great." Eren said as Armin helped him on the table.
No sooner had they both sat down when there was a knock on the door. A raspy voice said, "Jaeger?"