The first time Eren wakes up, it is dark outside. He looks about the room he is in, trying to identify his surroundings, but he doesn't recognize the place. He is in a bedroom, it seems, and he is lying in a bed, tucked under several blankets. It is stiflingly hot, but when he tries to remove them, his body won't cooperate. In some corner of his mind, he thinks he should be more alarmed about his inexplicable inability to move, but as it is, his mind is too muddled for him to be more than vaguely concerned.
Armin is slumped in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, drawn as close to the bed as can be allowed. One of his hands is clutching at one of Eren's, his grip firm even in his sleep. He's not still, though; he shifts and turns, making small noises. He's restless; having a nightmare, maybe. Armin will probably want to know that he is awake, but he can't move and he can't call out. Soon, he drifts back to sleep.
The second time he wakes up, it is only for a few seconds. It is just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of Mikasa's dark hair and her eyes widening when she sees him. "Eren?" she says.
"Mi…kasa," he manages. The world starts to dip and spin and he struggles to focus on her. It is no good, though. His head flops back and within moments he is once more unconscious. After his sight has already gone, the last thing he hears is Mikasa running for the door, calling Armin's name.
The third time that he wakes up is the first time that he is able to stay up for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Armin is next to him, back in the same chair, but he stands quickly once he notices that Eren's awake, moving away rather than closer. Mikasa is in the room too, he sees, but further back, like she's trying to stay out of the way.
Eren struggles to sit up, gratified to realize that he once again can move his body of his own accord. His throat is parched and he's positively soaked with sweat. He tries to shove off the excess blankets but Armin comes back and stops him. "I know it's uncomfortable," he says, "but we really need to break this fever. Leave it on for now?"
Eren doesn't want to, but he knows that Armin is only asking him to do what's best for his health in the long run. When he stops fussing with the bedding, Armin smiles and holds out the cup of water that he had gone to retrieve. Evidently, he had known that Eren would be thirsty. Armin guides the cup to his mouth and tilts it carefully, letting Eren drink his fill before setting it aside. Then he sits back in the chair and clasps his hand. Mikasa approaches quietly and sits on the edge of the bed. When Eren offers her his other hand, she takes it.
"How much do you remember?" Armin asks him.
Eren shakes his head, trying to think back. It's a bit of a blur, a conglomeration of disjointed sights and sounds. He remembers Armin falling from the tree and landing in his hand; he remembers that same hand getting sticky with evaporating blood. He remembers Mikasa, a tiny figure on the ground, and the terrible groaning of the Titans they left behind as they emerged from the forest. "Not much," he says. "I remember thinking that I had to get you out of that tree and then not much else."
"You got me out of the tree," Armin agrees. "You didn't recognize Mikasa, though. I had to talk you out of attacking her. Then you cleared a path through the Titans and got us out of the forest safely before you collapsed. For some reason, the moment we were outside of the trees, all of the Titans stopped chasing us.
"We had to cut you out of your Titan body," he continues, leaning forward. "You were burning with fever, so hot that we couldn't touch you with our bare hands. We covered you in one of the blankets and carried you the rest of the way to Tekkai; you'd gotten us close enough that it only took another hour or two to arrive."
Eren nods slowly. He looks around the room, able to take in more details now that he can move his body once more. It's a simple looking room. It's small, not too different from what the master bedroom in his childhood home looked like. Aside from the bed he is laying on, there is a small bedside table and a wooden armoire."Where are we?"
Armin's gaze sweeps around the room too, like he's never really paid attention to it's details before. "After the wall in Trost fell, the other outlying villages were worried that they would be targeted next. There was a mass migration to the interior of Wall Maria, so when we arrived in Tekkai, there were a lot of abandoned houses. This is one of them."
Eren looks out of the window and hesitates. It's mid-morning, he guesses from the lightness of the sky. The first time he'd woken up, it had been in the middle of the night. He almost doesn't want to ask, but he knows he needs to. "How long was I out?"
"After you saw Mikasa, you fell asleep for another thirty minutes," Armin answers flatly. His words could almost be passed as disinterested, but Eren feels him clutch tighter at his fingers. "Before that, you were unconscious for three days. If you hadn't woken up by tonight, we were going to risk taking you to a doctor."
He winces. For them to consider bringing him to a doctor he must've been in terrible condition; he is a wanted criminal now, after all. "I'm sorry," Eren says, but Armin continues to speak over him.
"You had a temperature of 40.5 degrees. You wouldn't move, you wouldn't respond to anything. For all I knew, you had fallen into a coma. Imagine that! Eren Jaeger, defeated by a measly fever after getting eaten couldn't keep him down."
"I'm sorry, alright?" Eren shouts. "It was either do that or watch you die, I didn't have a choice! How else were we supposed to get out of there alive?"
Armin lets go of him abruptly and stands. "You must be hungry," he says. "There are plenty of supplies here, I'm sure I can find something for you. Don't even think of getting out of that bed." Eren watches him stride out of the room, his movements stiff and jerky.
"Eren," Mikasa says, drawing his attention to her. He'd almost forgotten that she was there. She hadn't said a word during their argument. She's looking down to the floor as she speaks. "This is the third time you've saved mine and Armin's lives. It was because you don't want us to die, right?"
"Of course I don't want either of you to die," Eren says. "You guys are my family." As he says it, he feels a fleeting sense of déjà vu, like he'd heard the phrase recently. He files that away to think about later, focusing on Mikasa for now.
"We don't want you to die either," she says.
Mikasa doesn't say anything else, but she doesn't need to; she's gotten her point across. At no point had he stopped to consider his own safety. He had figured that as long as the other two were safe, he could deal with the consequences. Eren imagines how he would feel if it were he in the place of his friends, if it had been them throwing away their lives for his sake. It could only be bittersweet if one of them died saving the others. The three of them have no one but each other in this world; he needs to be more careful.
Armin returns soon with a bowl of soup that he hands over. Eren tries to raise the spoon, but his hand trembles and the majority ends up spilling. He hadn't realized how weak he is and suddenly he understands just how bad his condition must be. Armin doesn't say anything, just sops up the spill with a corner of one of the many sheets. Then he takes the bowl and spoons up more of the broth, patiently feeding it to Eren.
When he finishes the bowl, Armin makes to leave again but Eren grabs his arm before he can get too far away. "I'm sorry. I can't say I'll never do it again, but I'll be more careful."
Armin nods, his face finally relaxing out of the tight expression he's been wearing. He leans forward and brushes Eren's sweaty hair out of his face. His hands linger on his face, blessedly cool. "Get some more rest," he says gently.
-/-
It's once again dark outside the next time he wakes up. For a moment, he can't immediately place what woke him so abruptly, but then he feels the dip in the bed and sees the flash of pale hair.
"Sorry," Armin says. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Eren pushes himself to his forearms. The darkness turns movement to shadows and silhouettes; he can only barely make out Armin's outline. "No, it's fine," he says as he waits for his eyes to adjust. "I've had plenty of rest lately."
"I was just going to sleep. Mikasa's in the other room, but I could go out into the sitting room if you'd rather?"
He frowns. "Don't be ridiculous," he says, shifting over to make room. "You'll be very hot under here, though."
Armin rests his hand on Eren's forehead. Armin's hands no longer feel as refreshingly cool as they had before, but his touch is still welcome. Eren is too drunk on sleep to stop the sigh, too relaxed to stop himself from turning his head to press his face further into his friend's touch. "Your temperature has gone down," Armin says. "You could take those off now if you want to."
Without another thought, Eren throws them off. He is cognizant enough to notice how thick they are; these aren't the same ones that had been in their stolen packs. He guesses that Armin must have found them in the house. It seems like he made a good choice; the food, the furnishings, the comforts: he had been lucky to pick a place that had them all. Or maybe the choice hadn't been random. Maybe he'd deduced somehow that the family living previously in this house had been well off. Armin was good for making intuitive leaps of logic like that.
Armin climbs into the bed finally and hesitates momentarily. Eren opens his arms in a wordless invitation; in another moment, he aligns himself against Eren's body, presses himself as close as possible. His body is heated and when Eren encircles his arms around his front, he feels almost as warm as he had before he pulled off the blankets.
"How many times do I have to lose you?" Armin whispers into the darkness. In the silence, his words are all too loud. "I don't want you to die, Eren."
Eren can't think of anything to say that would reassure his friend. He knows that any words he can come up with will only sound like empty promises because they both know that he would do it again in a heartbeat. He's promised to be more careful, and he will – it was his fault that they'd ended up in that situation. It had been he to suggest that they ignore the danger and use their manoeuvre gear. He knows that Armin isn't weak and doesn't need protecting, but if he were put in the same situation again, he wouldn't hesitate.
So instead, he grips Armin tight, envelops him as fully as he can. He doesn't want to die either, he tries to convey, because he'd have to lose Armin and Mikasa if he does. He loves them too much to let them go.
He's not tired, not when he's been sleeping for the past three days. Once Armin's breaths go slow and even, he slips out of the bed. The house he's in is too foreign for his comfort, but at the same time it reminds him too much of his childhood home and of all the bad memories associated with the place. He decides he'll explore a bit and learn his surroundings in an attempt to relax.
He keeps one hand on the wall as he exits the room and walks down the hallway; it is dark, and he is in an unfamiliar place. He doesn't want to trip or walk into a wall. The walls under his hand are smooth wood.
He finds another bedroom and considers peering in. Armin had said Mikasa was asleep in there and she is a notoriously light sleeper; he doesn't want to disturb her. Eventually he decides to risk it, holding his breath as he cracks the door as if his exhalations alone would be enough to disturb her. The room, from what he can tell from the miniscule light that the moon provides, is much like the other one. It's smaller – probably belonging to a kid, judging from the small toy box he spots. There is also a small rug on the floor in front of a smaller bed, another nearly identical armoire and a window facing the opposite direction.
There's a bathroom that leaves him momentarily stupefied. It's not the first time he's seen indoor plumbing facilities, but he isn't used to them. Only the very rich have them and he's heard it's prevalent behind Wall Sina. This family had been better off than he had originally assumed. That thought is further proven when he enters the kitchen. Sinks and refrigerators are more common than indoor plumbing, but they're usually only found in large establishments. The military training camp had used them.
Eren rummages through the fridge and the cupboards, noting how well stocked it is. It's like whoever had lived here had just dropped everything and ran without bothering to pack. He's sure that if he checks the closets, there will be clothes left behind, too. Hopefully, they'll be able to find something to fit all of them.
"We'll have to eat the perishables quickly before they spoil, but everything else should last us for a while."
Eren jumps, startled, and tries to cover the movement poorly by reaching for the kettle and filling it with water from the tap. It doesn't work if the small snort he hears behind him is any indication. "Do you want some?" he asks lamely and Armin nods. He checks if there's enough water for the both of them before setting it on the stove.
Eren migrates to the small couch in what the family must have used as a sitting area, bypassing the wooden table. Judging by its uncomfortable appearance, that is where Armin had procured the chair that had been at his bedside. "Í didn't wake you, did I?" he asks.
"No," Armin answers as he moves to joins him at the couch. "I wasn't asleep." Eren lifts his arm and drapes it around him; Armin rests his head on his shoulder, letting his eyes drift shut. His wispy eyelashes are translucent in the gloom, the only light coming from the fire on the stove and the lurking moon.
"Stop thinking so hard. You might break," Armin teases him. "Want to share with the rest of us?"
"When I was a Titan," Eren begins slowly, "you told me that you love me."
Armin shifts to catch Eren's eyes, frowning faintly and his eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, I did," he says. "That's not exactly news."
"I don't think you meant as a friend."
For a moment, Armin doesn't respond. He's not avoiding the question, just considering how best to answer. "I do love you as a friend," he says finally, after long moments of silence have gone by. "You're the closest thing I have to a brother now, and I love you that way too. And yes, I love you as more than either of those, too." He spreads his hands and shrugs, but he doesn't tense and he doesn't move from where his head is resting on Eren.
Impulsively, Eren catches one of those hands between his own. He thinks about Armin, how right it feels when they fall asleep together, the sheer number of times they've held hands or kissed innocently on the cheek, on the neck. He remembers Armin reading to him aloud, studying together at night, their long-winded discussions about the world at large.
Armin, next to him, looks the way he always has and smells the way he always has. His blonde hair is just slightly mussed from the bed, but it's the same bob he's always had, the same hairstyle he refused to change no matter how many disparaging comments he heard about it. He smells, as always, like books and ink and vaguely like vanilla.
"I don't," Eren starts, twining his fingers through Armin's almost absently. "I mean, of course I love you. But I mean, I."
He gives up on speech; Armin's the one that's always been good with words, not him. He is only good at acting, and so he acts to express what he can't find the words to explain. With his free hand, he turns Armin's head and kisses him, chaste and close-mouthed. He feels Armin press back against him almost immediately and he feels something inside him flip in elation.
"What you mean," Armin says when they withdraw, damnably unperturbed, "is that you love me, but you're not in love with me. But you're afraid, because you know it would be too easy to fall in love. Right?"
Eren nods, relieved that Armin understands. As usual, he knows exactly the right thing to say. "Yes," he says belatedly, because it seems like Armin is waiting for a verbal response.
"I know because that's how I feel, too. I'm not in love with you," Armin says. For a moment he eyes Eren, and then he swings his legs around until he's straddling Eren's lap. His palms go to cradle Eren's face as he leans in. "Not yet."
Eren has never been kissed before; he had never been as fascinated by the concept of dating and kissing as some of the other guys his age. There had never been the time for it. Here though, and now, he can see the attraction.
This second kiss that Armin initiates is anything but chaste. He is clearly inexperienced, but he knows what he wants and he knows how to take it. Armin opens his mouth and exhales little puffs of air against Eren's mouth, waiting patiently for him to copy the motion. As soon as he does though, Armin's tongue is in his mouth, curled deliciously around his, coaxing and teasing. It's a jolt of pleasure that Eren feels throughout his body. His eyes close of their own volition and he moans helplessly into Armin's mouth. He laps up the sound greedily.
It's messy, and it's uncoordinated. Neither of them knows what they are doing, but they decide wordlessly that they'll learn it together. Eren finds himself clutching Armin's hips when they draw back for air, with no recollection of putting them there. Armin's eyes glint and he rocks down against Eren's erection. Eren groans and hauls him forward, licking his way back into Armin's mouth.
Armin's hands find their way under his clothes; his palms are cool and damp, but this time it is Armin, not fever, that is making his body so heated. Eren sucks on his tongue in a moment of inspiration and Armin's hands go suddenly sharp, his nails digging into Eren's bare chest. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters, breaking away.
"Don't apologize," he replies. With one hand, he gathers Armin's hair into his fist and licks a kiss into the skin of his throat, the other guiding him to rock down again. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, but Eren keeps his gaze on Armin. He looks too good like this and Eren knows he can too easily get addicted to the sight.
Armin pushes him away just long enough to snag the hem of Eren's shirt and pull it over his head. The time it takes seems to go on forever, wasted millennia spent not kissing, but it is worth it once it's fully off. Armin's hands are free to rove over bare skin unrestricted He rolls one of Eren's nipples between his fingers and Eren yelps at the unexpected burst of pleasure.
"Never tried that before?" Armin whispers into his ear. "What else haven't you tried?"
Eren groans and cradles Armin to his body, letting gravity overtake them both and landing horizontal on the couch. Armin grunts at the weight and then laughs, reaching up to pull Eren down into another messy kiss. Eren can feel the shape of his smile against his mouth as he spreads his legs so that Eren can settle between them. The smile disappears quickly when he ruts forward, replaced by a drawn out whine.
A sudden high-pitched wail startles the both of them into stillness. They freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed. "That will be the kettle," Armin says.
"The what?"
"The kettle. The tea."
Eren tries to think back through the hazy fog of his lust-addled mind. It takes a moment for him to remember the kettle he'd set on the stove. It seems like such a long time ago. It seems ridiculously unimportant in the face of these new developments, but if he leaves it whistling too long Mikasa will wake up. The choice is obvious.
"Right," Eren says and sighs. He pushes himself off of Armin. His eyes, usually so light, are dark and huge, the blue of his irises almost completely swallowed by his blown pupils. Eren can feel his gaze on him as he turns to go to the kitchen. He's certain he looks ridiculous with his pants visibly tented and his shirt nowhere to be found. His hair is ruffled beyond recognition. There are ten perfect crescent moons scored into his chest and his lips are sore enough that he knows they're swollen.
It takes him a moment to actually find the tea and the cups to pour it in and another moment to wait for the tea to brew properly. By the time he returns to the sitting room, two cups in tow, Armin is sitting up straight once more. He hadn't bothered attempting to make himself look presentable the way Eren had; he's still half hard. He doesn't look ridiculous, though. He looks enticing.
Armin accepts his cup as Eren sits down next to him. He wraps both hands around it and blows gently, waiting for it too cool enough for him to drink. When they had been younger, Armin had insisted that Eren learn to brew a proper cup of tea. It hadn't mattered to him either way, but he is happy that he did now. Armin savors each sip individually in a way Eren's never had the patience to. By the time he's done with the hot drink, Armin's cup is still more than half full.
Impatiently, Eren sidles closer, his hands landing on Armin's thigh and trailing teasingly up and down. It's not enough, so he presses himself closer and sucks at his throat. Armin's hands tremble and the tea spills just a bit, landing with a small splash and a muffled oath. Armin doesn't seem truly annoyed though, more amused than anything. "Just wait until I finish my tea," he says, laughing. "You can wait that long, can't you?"
Eren catches his eyes. "We've both been waiting too long, I think," he says seriously.
"Just wait," he repeats, but his voice is softer now, fond and full of promise.
The moment Armin drains his cup, Eren is on him again; the cup falls and narrowly avoids breaking. He presses Armin back against the couch, covering his body with his own. He tugs at the bottom of Armin's shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmurs. He feels Armin nod and raise his hands so Eren can pull it over his head. He doesn't know where it lands and he doesn't care to see.
Armin stands abruptly and takes Eren's hand, leading them back to the bedroom. There's a moment of awkwardness before Eren turns to flip on the gas lantern. When he turns back, Armin's naked. The flickers of light from the new flame dance across his skin, simultaneously shadowing and illuminating, throwing the barest splash of color onto his pale skin. He doesn't look nervous and he doesn't try to cover himself because they both know it's not the first time Eren has seen him like this. It's the same thing he's seen so many times before, but it is still somehow different. His mouth goes dry as he steps closer.
Armin's gentle hands help him out of the rest of his clothes before they topple somewhat haphazardly into the bed. Remembering not too lean to heavily on him, Eren settles them facing each other on their sides. Everywhere they touch there is skin on skin contact; it's dizzying and electrifying. Eren can't say who starts it, but they're kissing again, slow and sloppy. When Armin shifts, opening his leg just a little, their dicks brush against each other. He shifts again, more deliberately this time, and they slip against each other, the glide made easy by their combined precome. Eren finds himself moaning, too turned on to be embarrassed by the noise.
"Do you think we're moving too fast?" Eren asks.
Armin's expression goes thoughtful. "I think each couple should have their own pace and do whatever suits them best," he says. "It's possible that we're going faster than most people do, but it's not exactly like we have someone to pace ourselves against." He smiles cheekily, his hands going between Eren's legs. "If it makes you feel better, think of the past few years we spent dancing around each other as dates. I figure it's about time to put out now."
Armin tugs on his dick, quickly settling into the motion, coaxing tiny sounds out of Eren's slack mouth. He feels Armin's touch everywhere, explicitly aware of every place that their skin meets, of their tangled legs and limbs. Dimly, Eren thinks he should return the gesture; he needs to find a way to let Armin feel as good as he does.
"I could," he starts, motioning uselessly but Armin shakes his head.
"I want to make you come," he says. There's an excruciating pause when Armin lets go of him, but then his hands return, slick from spit. He hadn't thought anything could be better than the feeling of Armin's hand on his dick, but this is infinitely better. The touch is slicker, wetter, rougher, hotter. His body ruts forward without his permission, fucking into Armin's hands. "That's it," Armin whispers into his skin. He adjusts his grip, squeezing tighter. His other hand goes to fondle Eren's ball sac as his nails scrape over his head and into the slit.
Eren's hands scrabble for purchase, skating over Armin's arms and legs before catching on the sheets. He fists them, wrinkling them. He bites down on his lips to stop the noises flooding out. "Stop that," Armin chides when he notices. "I want to hear you." He latches onto Eren's collarbone and sucks hard enough that Eren knows it will bruise before he bites down, hard enough that Eren shouts.
His strokes speed up. Eren feels a coil winding in just gut, drawing tighter and tighter, hauling him closer to the brink. He dangles on a precipice for one agonizing moment.
"I love you," Armin reminds him and his nails dig in again, too hard. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes. It hurts, but it hurts too good and he's coming. He loses track of time and of himself, his vision whiting out. When he can see again, he's lying boneless on the bed and Armin's staring at him in wonder.
"You did this to me," Eren accuses him.
"I did, didn't I?" he says in awe.
Eren allows himself several beats to recover before pushing himself to his forearms. He kisses Armin slowly, lazily, tongue curling into his mouth and hands roaming his body. He allows his hand to drift teasingly over Armin's cock before he stands. He takes both of Armin's hands and uses them to tug him into the position he wants; Armin sits on the bed with his legs thrown over the side. Then Eren kneels between them, spreads them open further.
"You don't have to," Armin tells him. "You could just do it with your hands."
"I want to," Eren replies and bends his head to lick at Armin's cock. To his relief, if doesn't taste like much; a little salty from his precome, maybe a bit bitter. Overall though, there's not much to protest about. He opens up wider, sinking as far down as he can. For a moment, he just stays there, marveling at the velvety feel, the heaviness of Armin's cock on his tongue.
He sucks back up hard, mindful of his teeth. Armin makes an aborted sound like a whimper, thighs trembling at the effort of keeping still. Eren goes slow, learning his way around Armin's dick, learning that sucking on the tip makes him groan, learning how to curl his tongue just right, learning how to relax his throat to take him deeper.
Then, when he feels ready, he takes Armin's hands and guides them to his hair. For a minute Armin hesitates, but then he grips tight to hold him steady and shoves his dick in. Eren shuts his eyes, reveling in the taste, sucking when he can. His face is wet with drool and precome, but he doesn't stop to wipe it away. His jaw is aching from the stretch, but the discomfort is ignorable when he raises his eyes and sees Armin's had thrown back in unabridged pleasure.
Too soon, Armin's hips start stuttering out of rhythm, jerking in and out unsteadily. "I'm gonna come," he warns. Eren hesitates a moment too long and doesn't pull away fast enough. Armin's come splashes onto his face in wet spurts.
For a moment he doesn't know how to respond, kneeling there blinking ejaculate out of his eyes. Armin tugs on the sheet and uses it to wipe up the mess with gentle hands before pulling Eren to his feet. Armin tilts his head up to kiss him, tugging them backwards. They land breathless and laughing on the bed.
They squirm around each other until their heads are back on the pillows, Armin pressed against Eren's chest. "We can do laundry in the morning," Armin says.
"But," Eren says, gesturing vaguely to indicate the come staining their bodies, "we'll get sticky."
"In the morning," he repeats firmly. Eren can't bring himself to argue, not when he's feeling this lazy and sated. He doesn't want to move anyway. So he doesn't, just adjusts his position and waits to fall asleep with Armin in his arms, where he belongs.
-/-
AN: Guys, I didn't plan for this chapter to only have them establish their relationship and sex. I swear this fic has an actual plot.
It will also have more porn, but that's not the point.