In Sickness and Health
Armin x Reader
Disclaimer: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan belongs to Hajime Isayama and not myself. I don't own any of the characters.
The sun was bright and hot as usual. The humid, dusty air was always a little suffocating to you and the stifling uniforms of the 104th Trainee Corps was no help. Beads of sweat would form under your brow and upper lip. It had become more bearable throughout the first year of training to ignore, especially when standing at attention. You had been screamed at before by Keith Shadis and it wasn't exactly a hobby. Whether it was verbal abuse or a head butt (which Kirschtein had demonstrated how painful they were), it was undesirable to remain on his radar. Today was different though. There was more exhaustion in your joints than normal. The ground beneath you seemed to spin and you saw the occasional double of a fellow soldier.
Dehydration, you told yourself. It's no reason to half-ass your way through today.
On that day, it was hand-to-hand combat training. You were not particularly strong but you weren't weak either. Standard height, weight, but nothing of outstanding physical stature. You knew your strengths and weaknesses and weren't going to try something stupid like getting cocky with Braun or Leonhardt. They were certainly nothing to sneeze at. No, instead you stayed among familiar enough faces.
Fragile looking Christa had been quite the opponent. As shot as she was, Christa had a bit of force in her blows. She could throw a barrage of agile punches that would stun a person, easy. You knew better than to stay on the offensive too long with her. With arms thrown up as blockades, you breezily dismissed her attack and moved in on one of your own. Rearing your harder hitting arm, you launch a fist through the air for Christa. She side stepped and took a deep jab at your ribcage. Of course it hurt and was going to bruise later but something felt off key. From such a minor attack, you started tasting a metallic type substance which was never a good sign.
Ignore it! you urged yourself. A real enemy would use to their advantage.
"Are you alright, _? You look pale," Christa expressed with deep concern. It was always so endearing that she cared so compassionately for her other soldiers, but you didn't want anyone's pity. No one would take pity on you if you felt ill during a genuine fight.
"I'm fine," you replied breathlessly, drawing your hands up again. Christa didn't seem convinced of you statement but continued with the scuffle as soon as you sent another bullet punch towards her body.
The heat continued to beat down violently on you like a drum as the fight dragged on. You were trying to give your absolute 110% effort but your entire body shook with exhaustion. Your vision wavered and your balance constantly shifted in order to remain up right.
I'm fine, you thought. I'm fine and I'm going to win!
You crouched to strike a hooking punch to Christa's thigh to put a limit on her agility. Unfortunately enough, she foresaw the attack and dodged with her light step. Black dots danced before your eyes as Christa stayed in constant motion. Throwing what seemed to be all her weight into her speeding fist coming at your face, you caught it with both hands. Your plan was to throw Christa over your shoulder and win the match. Having suspected this, Christa straightened out her other hand and chopped at your neck.
The maneuver had been taught to you by the instructor. It was supposedly going to temporarily stun your opponent. You hadn't bought into it. A little chop to the neck? What that supposed to do? Yet, as soon as the force of Christa's hand connected to your neck, your nerves seemed to shatter. You dropped on all fours, gasping for breath. Christa kneeled beside you, patting your back.
"_, you need to go sit down. Please, before you seriously injure yourself."
"I'm . . . fine," you huffed, struggling to your feet. The ground seemed to spin faster, making your stomach lurch.
"Please be careful. You need to take better care of yourself." Christa gently hoisted you to your feet, since your self-efforts had been fruitless. She kept a delicate hand on your back.
"There's nothing to worry about. I'm only a little tired. Just keep practicing."
You tried your luck next with Ymir. She had been standing around, looking passive a she watched Christa's fights. You faced her with fists raised and more sweat dripped down your face. Ymir didn't look nearly as concerned as Christa did. No, she stared at you with cold eyes. She was the type that was neither happy nor upset about the conditions their opponents walked away in, unharmed or bleeding.
You made the first move. Your lightning quick hands flew for Ymir's face like canons. She caught both fists and brought a bony knee into your stomach causing you to spit up a bit.
"Tch," she clicked her tongue, unimpressed, and kept you at bay.
Gritting your teeth, you threw all your weight into the pressing force you had against Ymir's hands. Instead of pushing back, she side stepped and let you fly forward, almost landing on your face. Thankfully, for your pride and health, you caught yourself in the nick of time to prevent said face plant
It wasn't as if the entire Trainee Corps was watching you, but you felt embarrassed. First, you were beaten by the smallest person in the entire group and left looking sick and weakly. Then you started earning pity points for not being at the top of your game that day. Lastly, you were losing to a lazy soldier who wasn't even trying. This was unacceptable! The day you signed up for training was the day you promised yourself and humanity that you would become strong enough to kill the Titans. That meant giving it your all each and every day. You didn't say good bye to your family to become Titan food, but to make them proud and be strong in a time of panic. So even in a tiny moment like this, you had to prove to yourself that you were strong and not willing to give up.
You recollected the most balance you could then focused on Ymir. She was facing you with a bored expression. Her palms were open and up as if she was ready to absorb your bullet punches. Spreading your feet, you took off on a full paced dash. With your body positioned to ram Ymir, your actual plan was to fake her out and deliver a round of hard hitting blows to her lower abdomen. It was basically foolproof! She was in no position to defend herself nor would she have fast enough reflexes to react at this point. You grinned in satisfaction.
Yet, time seemed to slow down. Something didn't feel right. Ymir had remained in that exact same position; palms overt and raised, without so much as a flinch. There was a glint in her eyes that made your blood boil. Then you realized the trap. With no time to even skid to a close halt, Ymir grabbed your arms that neatly fell into her hands. Heaving a grunt, she tossed your still-in-motion body behind her and sent you soaring. Your body was actually airborne and you could see sneering Ymir between your legs, though as expected, time sped up again as you began plummeting towards the ground. Now, being the oh-so talented person you were, not only did you manage to take another soldier down with you, but you also landed head first on the ground. Needless to say, it was embarrassing.
After the collision, it felt as if your brain was doing 360˚ flips and the world had decided to practice spinning pirouettes. Everything was moving up and down, side-to-side, back and forth, and so on. Someone rolled you onto your back and kept your head elevated. None of your thoughts were straight. Only seconds ago you had been plotting Ymir's defeat and now everything was blank. You had hardly registered your head connecting with the dusty ground or who you had knocked over.
Very vaguely, you could make out a few faces that had gathered around and peered down at you. Christa and the culprit of the situation were standing to your left. On the opposite side, you saw Sasha who had been close by when everything went down. You were pretty sure you also saw Connie's bulbous bald head somewhere in there. Dialogue was being exchanged among them and some of it was directed towards you but there was no way of response. All you could do was stare up at everyone stupidly with your mouth agape. Well, that was, until the pain hit.
A low groan escaped your lips as the throbbing sensation spread across your skull. You could practically feel the knot beginning to form. The sun was viciously slapping your cheeks with its rays. And there was sweat. So much sweat. Was it possible that it was thirty degrees hotter than it had been five minutes ago? Your body was screaming in that uniform and cried for release. The thing that you craved most at that moment was to plunge in a tub full of ice.
You felt your body being picked up and your arms slung around the necks of people on either side of you. All of your limbs hung like slack ropes. There was no strength remaining for you to pick yourself up or even respond to the pain with more than a sound. Your heart was racking inside your chest, threatening to escape. Everything was blurred with few recognizable hints. There was a yelling body mass that moved towards you which could have been none other than Shadis. There were the shuffling of feet from nerves and calling out answers. Shadis picked up your head and looked at you with those hard, brown eyes. He struck intimidation even in your half-conscious body. He called something out but even at such a close range, you couldn't understand what he was saying. Shadis released your head and let it drop like a ragdoll. It was almost as if your neck muscles and bones had suddenly vanished. A few more words were exchanged between your fellow trainees and Shadis before your two supports rushed you to the girls' barracks.
The memory was all slurred together. Was it Sasha and Mina who brought you there? No. Mine wasn't even near when you fought Ymir. It was Sasha and . . . that person you crashed into! You hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of them. There were scenes of being lain on you back and having someone slide off your boots and harnesses. A cool rag had been laid on your forehead and someone tipped a cup of water into your mouth. You were never quite sure of when these things had been fetched but you felt fresher and the blood had returned to your head. Either way, your eyes were burning, begging to be closed and for you to rest.
Only a few minutes. No more than that. I need to keep training, you though tiredly. I can't . . . look weak. I need to . . . train . . . harder . . .
It was evening when you awoke. How did you know? The kerosene and candles were lit and none of the other girls were to be seen. A lukewarm, damp rag had fallen to the floor and a cup of water had been set at the foot of the bunk, half empty. The blankets had entangled themselves at your feet, showing signs that you'd kicked them off with ferocity.
Propping yourself up with an elbow, you wiped the sleep from your eyes and tried to rethink the process of getting to this point. This morning, you had woken with the rest of the girls in your cabin and taken a shower before heading for breakfast. As usual, they served lumpy, misshapen oatmeal the same color of a stormy day. Next, you began the routine morning exercises that led into the afternoon hand-to-hand combat session. You hadn't been feeling your best and had been by Christa. Then you challenged Ymir and . . .
You regressed back into the pillows as the memories came flooding back. The awful feeling of being tricked so easily by Ymir then being tossed through the air burned a hole in your chest. How could you not have seen that coming? Had you really been that drunk on confidence? To top it all off, you had twisted your body in such a manner that you landed on your head and managed to take another person down with you.
Oh, you're a gifted soldier alright, you though spitefully.
Gingerly, you ran a hand over the bruised lump along your hairline and instantly winced. The simple tap sent a wave of pain to your nerves and made you withdraw your touch. Your joints and muscles still felt weak and fragile as if they would fracture at the slightest strain. It also felt like the high afternoon sun was still harassing you. A sweat had broken out on your forehead and the labored breathing and yet to cease. You might as well have been lying on the sun. The temperature was all too hot. One the bright side of the situation, the world had stopped spinning. Your vision was clean and thoughts could cross your mind without becoming jumbled. There was no more throbbing from your head but those were all the improvements you could think of. Well, you were also off your feet which was a nice change.
The door creaked open, little by little, with a slow pace. You closed your eyes and prepared your face of steel. No way would you give Ymir the satisfaction of her walking in and seeing you so beat and feeble. No doubt she would give you that irritating triumphant sneer and gloat in silence. You absolutely would not meet her wishes! You would be perfectly fine by tomorrow morning and it would be your personal mission to kick her ass in combat. But you were met with quite a surprise as to who had entered the barracks. Armin Arlert stood by the entryway, holding a tray of the mess hall's disgusting, discolored food and a fresh cup of water.
"Oh, _. You're awake. That's good." He proceeded into the room setting the tray down on a small table that had been placed by your bunk.
"Arlert? What are you doing? You're not allowed to be here."
"I volunteered to bring your dinner. The other girls were going to give it to you after they were done eating but it would've been old by then."
"Oh . . .well, uh, thanks." You felt bad for the rude introduction that you had greeted Armin with. A boy had never entered the girls' barracks (which all the trainees had been warned If so case happened) and you had never said a word to this one before. There was a hint of awkwardness between you two as the period of silence grew longer.
"Are you feeling any better? You were nearly unconscious when Sasha and I bought you in here," Armin conversed, trying to lighten the mood.
"It feels like my arms are made of paper and I'm roasting on the sun but other than that, I'm fine," you replied honestly.
Armin gently laid the back of his hand across your forehead. You flinched as his fingers brushed over the knot on your head. He didn't seem bothered by all the sweat making itself at home on your face.
"I was afraid so. You have a pretty bad fever. That's why it was hard to fight today. You're sick."
"It was only a little dehydration. I'm fine. I'll be back on my feet tomorrow," you replied indifferently.
"But Instructor Shadis assigned you several days of rest . . ."
"I'm not sick. I promise. The only reason I didn't fight well was because I didn't give it my best effort. If I blame illness for my fault, that would only mean I'll become weaker."
Armin sighed, seeing that it was no use in arguing with you. "If you insist, but will you at least eat dinner?"
Peering back over to the tray he had brought, you scrunched your nose in disgust. Even after a year of eating many gray blobs, they still tasted the same to you; awful. Besides, you weren't that hungry anyway.
"I'm sorry to make you go through the effort of bring my dinner here, but I think I'll wait until breakfast."
"If you want to get better faster, you have to give your body nutrients. You haven't eaten in hours and you'll only be hungrier when breakfast comes."
Defiantly, you turned your nose up at the tray. "Sorry, but no."
Armin sighed again as he picked up the rag that had been distributed on the floor. He poured some of the fresh water on it and placed it on your forehead. You made a sound welcoming the pleasant coolness.
"So," you began, sitting up in the bed, "why are you suddenly taken with my health?"
Armin blushed and averted his eyes from your gaze. "Oh, uh . . . well it's sort of my fault that your head hit the ground." He quick held his hands up in defense like you were going to hit him. "I'm really sorry."
You were confused. Arming couldn't hurt so much as a fly let alone a person (and a girl at that). Seeing him stand there in such a stance and the blush so deep in his cheeks and humorous and even slightly cute. You had to suppress a grin.
"What could you have done?" your voice twinkled with amusement.
Armin shuffled his feet lowering his arms and drumming his fingers against his thigh. "U-um, when Ymir threw you across the yard, I accidently pushed you so you won't land on me. I-It didn't really work out for either of us."
"Look, Arlert, if anything, I should be apologizing. I'm the one who knocked you over. Pushing me away was just natural instinct. I'm sorry if I injured you but there's no need to worry about me. I'll be back on my feet tomorrow."
You had always pegged Armin as a worrywart. He infinitely acted like he was stepping on eggshells with everyone. Forever scared of making a mess and keeping quiet. You had never been fond of him. The first day, Shadis had chewed him out and yelled some pretty nasty things.
Good name for a retard!
It had always been irritating that Armin was so smart. You were not stupid but not a genius either. It was like he didn't even try. Hands down, Armin was going to receive the best written score for the overall 104th Trainee Corps. He was also a pipsqueak. The second shortest guy and shorter than the majority of the girls. You even mistook him for Christa at times (although you were definitely not the first). Armin was almost like a bad itch; the only way to handle it was to make it go away. It baffled you that he wasn't one of the many people on the wagon out of there the first day.
At the same time, there was soft part of your heart for him. You hadn't seen so irritated with his presence when you had heard where he was from. Zhiganshina. The world still sent shivered down your spine. The thought that someone that appeared so weak and endured and survived that tragedy definitely made you rethink your opinion. Armin, unknowingly, had earned your respect. You couldn't imagine a life without your family or having to bear the thought that they were eaten by humanity's greatest enemy. It would've been a challenge to function each and every day. He had emotional strength and that was something you couldn't criticize.
"W-well, it's still partially my fault so I feel obligated t-to help," Armin insisted.
"But we're not even friends and this is the first time we've ever spoken."
Armin's blue eyes studied the wooden paneling of the wall as his blush deepened. "I-I know."
"Thanks for worry about my but please don't. Honestly, I'm fine."
The blonde soldier looked as if he had something else to say but bit his tongue, not wanting to contradict you. "A-Alright, but I'll check on you tomorrow. Make sure you eat to keep up your strength or it'll take longer for you to heal." He began for the door, his boots creaking against the old floorboards. Before exiting, Armin quickly turned to face you. "O-okay?"
"Fine."
Seeming satisfied, Armin nodded his head and proceeded out. At the same time, the girls began pouring into the cabin, some raising eyebrows as he passed. Christa ran over to your bedside, shooting a million and one questions concerning your health; how were you, did your head hurt, why were you sweaty, do you have a fever, do you need help eating? There wasn't enough oxygen in the cabin to supply the amount of answers to Christa's rapid fire questions.
"What was Armin doing in here?" Mina inquired, crossing to her side of the bunk. Since yours was side-by-side with hers, she had to climb over your perspiring body.
"Nothing, really. He brought me dinner and apologized for this afternoon."
"Why? You knocked him over," Sasha said, stealing the load of bread on your tray.
"That's what I said but he insisted that he had an obligation towards my health." You quickly glanced at Mikasa to see if you had offended her in anyway by speaking of her friend. She seemed busy with the task of readying for bed. You didn't want to be on her bad side or have her reporting to Armin any mean things that could possibly slip from your mouth.
"It was nice of him to bring your dinner," Christa offered to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah . . ."
Looking back at the mush, the corners of your mouth turned down. It looked more unappetizing by the second. And yet . . .
Leaning over, you grabbed the tray and set it in your lap, grabbing the spoon, regretting your decision. Sure, you had promised Armin that you would eat a little dinner but you hadn't actually meant it. It was only said to make him leave, put his nerves at ease. He had seemed so sincerely concerned too . . .
I'm eating this because if he really is checking on me tomorrow, he'll see I lied and it'll make him stress even more. I don't to give that kid gray hairs, you thought.
After a few bites, you had to set the tray down. The gruel substance was upsetting your stomach which obviously wasn't helping your condition. Lying on your side, you listened to the idle chit chat of the other girls which was usually the sound that lulled you to sleep. There was the occasional interesting gossip but none tonight. Only the remains of training that day and who they'd spar with tomorrow. You closed your eyes and willed the fever to lift. It was still burning hot, even with the blankest still kicked off out at the end. Exhaustion took over, even after the long period of rest. You could feel the constant hum of your brain settle down. The thoughts slowly dissipated as sleep drew closer. You were almost there until something occurred to you; Armin had said that you dinner would've been cold if the girls had brought it. If that was the case, why did the girls finish almost immediately after Armin came?