A/N: The last one was kinda sad, so here's fluff! Let's pretend Petra and Levi survive it all and finally go and see the ocean.


He feels her slender fingers gently brushing his black hair, peacefully going back and forth. Sometimes she puts her hand on his forehead before smoothing his locks back again so that his bangs no longer hide the creamy skin underneath, and pleasant tingles begin from his scalp and move down through his spine, making him part his lips and breathe in.

He can also feel her eyes on him, from time to time, even though his are closed. He feels her gaze because that may be the only moment when he feels good; when she looks at him with love, perhaps pride or admiration, maybe even something else but he doesn't bother analyzing it. She doesn't look at him all the time, he knows and he understands that the sight before them catches her attention more than his calm features do. She's still not used to it, yet.

Her other hand rests against his cheek, thumb stroking his skin with care. Levi has never felt any of the feelings blossoming inside of him before and he thinks this might be the first time he's ever felt peace, at ease enough that a noise nearby wouldn't make him jump or open his eyes. Petra's there, it's enough. Petra's there and she will never leave, it's enough.

"I think the sea's colour is just like your eyes'," she says, her tone a bit contemplative, "maybe your eyes are darker but if you swim deep enough that's just the same colour, right? We should swim."

He makes a noise in his throat. He's too calm and sleepy for deep shit like that, and if she's trying to be romantic then she should just shut up because the feeling of her skin against his scalp, forehead, cheek and beneath his neck and head with her thighs serving as–really comfortable—pillows is more than enough for him.

"It's beautiful, Levi. You should open your eyes and admire the view," she softly tells him as she looks down, waiting for a reaction.

He doesn't give her one. He won't.

"Levi," she whispers.

He grunts, playfully pinching her thigh as he grits his teeth and the sound of her laugh is so lovely that he loses the fight against the smile pulling the corners of his lips up.

"Can we just enjoy the damn silence for a minute? Yeah the ocean's nice and all but the sand is horrible and I'm still trying to get over it," he pauses, "Let's just listen to the sound of the waves. Yeah, let's just do—

He can't finish his sentence because her lips press against his, cutting his sentence off and his hand moves on its own accord to grab her hair, pulling her closer as strawberry-blonde locks tickle his collarbones and chest. He knows she's smiling against him but he moves his lips anyway in an attempt to taste it and happiness is all that's left on his flesh, on his tongue and it twists his insides but it's nothing like past fears.

She eventually breaks the kiss even though he still feels the strands of her hair tickling him, and she murmurs, "Be quiet, then," her breath hot against his moist lips.

He makes another sound in his throat in agreement.

Yes, she is definitely happiness.