Old Bones.

The vintage record player rested on the corner of the small wooden porch.

It was wedding gift from Armin 25 years ago, including three scratched vinyl records. Despite their weary and damaged appearance, the record player soundly produced soft classical music. With the tune already familiar and embedded within their minds, the younger woman hummed it while the older man had his eyes closed.

"Levi," Mikasa called out from the garden patch, looking up from her used straw hat. Her long black hair, with a few strands of white, was tucked behind her ear and flowed down until the dip of her waist. The tattered red scarf remained around her neck. "Do you want to dance?"

Her 65-year old husband, with shades of gray dusting his black hair, lounged on the rocking chair. His cravat was in the same condition as his wife's scarf. He opened his eyes and replied in a rough voice, "You need a lance? Why ever do you need a lance while gardening, dear?"

She laughed; wrinkles that had accumulated over the years traced her smile, "Not a lance, Levi. I said, do you want to dance?"

"You want some romance? Mikasa, you know these old bones can't take you the way you want it anymore… Although, I could try. Hopefully my damned back won't give out on me."

His 50-year old wife blushed. His language remained ever so crude. They had been blessed with 3 wonderful children, two girls and a boy. It was more than both of them could have asked for and they could never be happier.

Mikasa sighed, her lips in a tiny and amused smile. She pulled off her gloves and hat and walked up the porch, "Are your ears older than you are?" She placed her hand over her husband's, which settled on the armrest. "I asked if you wanted to dance?"

"Prance, Ackerman?" He smirked, looking very much like the man she fell in love with and revealing that he had been pulling her leg this entire time. "I thought we've talked about these old bones."

Her thumb rubbed against the back of his calloused hand, brushing over bumping veins and invisible stains of Titan and comrade blood, "You should be happy that my tolerance for you has grown within age."

Levi uttered his tch and his eyes gazed at her softly, "As if you would ever leave me."

After a moment, he cleared his throat and slowly stood from the rocking chair, "I suppose these bones may have enough strength for one dance."

"Actually, dear, I feel tired from all the gardening I just did. Perhaps, another time?" The smile on her face was an obvious tease.

"Brat," Levi grumbled and took her wrist, not allowing her a chance to escape. She never changed over the years, always pushing his buttons.

Mikasa held his wrist carefully as she leaned the side of her head against his. Giving a tender kiss upon his temple as they both swayed to the music.