Mikasa wakes up in the middle of the night and quickly realizes she has to pee.
So she rolls out of bed and tries not to run into anything because she's not used to being in this room at night yet.
Still, she notices that the armchair in the corner Levi normally sleeps on is vacant.
This doesn't shock her because she knows that he has always struggled with sleep. She's honestly surprised that she doesn't struggle more than she does. But she listens, and she can hear talking downstairs, and while she knows that Levi has his quirks, talking to himself simply isn't one of them.
The bathroom is right at the end of the stairs and to the left. The steps are old and creek, no matter how lightly she treads he'll hear her.
So she walks down the stairs and sees Levi sitting on a chair in the living room with the telephone. He glances at her as she goes into the bathroom but doesn't linger.
"I'm only going to be annoyed if you apologize again, I told you to call me if you needed to."
…
"Yeah, I still think about it."
…
"I wouldn't blame you if you were still angry at me."
…
"Why don't you go mess around with your plants if you need to do something?"
…
"Yeah that's a better idea, good."
Who the hell is he talking to?
She's done peeing but she has no intention of leaving the bathroom because like it or not she's curious about the conversation he's having in the middle of the night.
He scoffs and she can practically see how he would roll his eyes.
"No, of course I'm not."
…
"She's in the bathroom right now."
She gets a little warm at the fact that he mentioned her. Has to be someone they both know, so if she had to guess she'd say it's Hanji he's talking to. But at this hour?
"I'm not going to tell her hi from you, she's probably half asleep, the woman sleeps like the dead, I'm jealous."
He pauses presumably for a response, then chuckles again.
You underestimate my interest in eavesdropping, Levi.
"Why don't you call her and ask her yourself?"
…
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure, go play with your stupid plants or get some sleep."
…
"You too."
She hears him hang up the phone, and it's then that she realizes she's spent way too much time in the bathroom and he'll definitely know she was eavesdropping.
So she washes her hands and jumps when she finds him standing outside the bathroom door.
"I was starting to worry you'd fallen in," he says dryly.
"I fell asleep."
"Right," he says clearly not believing her, but she can tell he doesn't care. He crosses his arms in a way that still makes her feel like she's about to be reprimanded, an odd side effect of being his subordinate for years.
"Hanji gets strange at night sometimes."
"She's not strange during the day?"
He shakes his head slightly. "Not like her usual. She'll do things like pull out all her fingernails to see if her diet is affecting their transparency if she gets upset about something, usually Erwin."
It's been over ten years since Erwin died, and even though Mikasa knows that time doesn't always heal wounds she's a little surprised.
"Were they…?"
Levi shrugs, her implication clear.
"I know she loved him, just like I did, but anything else isn't really my business."
She flinches a little at his statement. Logically she knows that Levi has lost many people in his life — it's not only the nature of the Survey Corps but the nature of life, loving people and then losing them. Still, he has always borne that burden with such stoicism that it's hard for her to imagine it affecting him. She can't imagine him up at night, alone, thoughts of the dead consuming him like they have her the last few years.
"But you've told her about us," Mikasa notes.
He raises an eyebrow.
"Us, now that's an interesting concept," he says dryly. "And definitely, I've told her all the little details, your likes, dislikes, even sent her a lock of your hair in the mail."
Her sleep foggy mind takes a second to catch up with the fact that he's joking.
She must look confused because he smirks.
"Sorry, you're not awake enough for my bullshit. No, I haven't clued Hanji in on the specifics of how we occupy ourselves, though I'm sure she's drawn her own conclusions, I don't lie to her about anything."
The way he says it, like there's no room for deviation from the fact that he is always truthful with Hanji catches her a little off guard. She supposes that it makes sense that they are friends, and close ones at that, she can even recall this from years ago. She'd hardly paid attention though, her focus almost exclusively on Eren and Armin. She can see his dedication to her in his expression, that their friendship runs deep down past the more superficial elements of companionship. Still, the idea that someone knows about the two of them is somehow strange, because Mikasa doesn't really know what they are.
If Hanji's so smart then maybe she can fill me in sometime.
"Anyways, I told her to call me when she gets into one of her moods instead of resorting to self-mutilation, and since I don't really sleep it's not an issue. Sorry for waking you."
The idea of him fielding phone calls from a distressed Hanji in the middle of the night seems so thoughtful, so kind of him that she has to reassess her perception of him. It's not like he's given her any reason to think he wouldn't be that way, but it's still odd.
She rubs her eyes without thinking about it.
"Go back to sleep."
"What about you?"
She knows that he sleeps a handful of hours a night and sometimes takes a nap during the day, but it's late.
He glances over to the living room wearily.
"I can tell you're tired," she says, grabbing his hand.
Wordlessly he lets her take him upstairs to the bedroom. She turns on the lamp and arranges some pillows against the headboard.
"What are you doing?"
"Making it so you can sit up the way you like but still sleep on a bed."
He looks at her, clearly a little incredulous, but then his expression shifts to something she can't quite place, something softer.
After having arranged everything to her specifications, she crawls under the quilt with her scarf, glances up at him expectantly.
He sighs and sits down, pulling the crocheted blanket over his legs and adjusting as he leans back against the pillows.
Mikasa turns off the lamp and without thinking too hard about it snuggles her scarf to her chest with one hand and grabs his hand with the other, lacing their fingers together and quickly falling asleep.
It's been five days since Connie and Sasha left and Mikasa knows that they will likely be back soon.
The problem is, she doesn't particularly want to go back.
She likes whatever arrangement she has with Levi. They don't spend every minute of the day together. She goes over to Sasha and Connie's to take care of their animals for a few hours, he does work outside, she reads a book inside, he tends to his small garden while she washes the laundry, but there's something harmonious about it. When they're together it's either spent in companionable silence, light conversation or gritted teeth, grasping hands and words that, if she thinks them outside of the moment, make Mikasa turn so red she feels like she may faint.
She's also not ready to unpack the implications of how well things between them work.
"Sasha and Connie should be back, but I left a note saying I wouldn't be around so they don't worry," she says over dinner.
"Did you say where you were?"
She hesitates. "No, I just said I wouldn't be there."
He scoffs. "I guarantee Sasha has a few ideas. Connie is the densest person I know, but Sasha," he pauses to take a bite of his salad greens, "is easily the most intuitive person I've ever met."
"No way, if she knew she'd have bothered me about it."
He shakes his head. "I know these things, she definitely knows, she just doesn't bother you about it because she knows that you'd lie."
Mikasa frowns. It bothers her that he assumes that she'd lie about the two of them, even if he's right.
"Please tell me about how you know the woman I lived with for years better than I do."
"I was your squad leader, it was my job to know these things. See, you and I," he gestures carefully with his fork between the two of them, "we're killers. For better or worse, we're the same that way, and we're good at it. Sasha though, Sasha's a hunter. She's like an animal, nearly impossible to deceive, can probably sense fluctuations in blood pressure for all I know. I'm telling you, that woman could probably pin down the first time I ever even thought of you naked."
"Was that a regular occurrence?" she teases.
He looks at her as if she has said something profoundly stupid and it makes her feel a little flustered because it's still hard for her to believe that this whole thing is happening. Even a few months ago the mere suggestion of it would've made her angry.
Later that night, well after the sun has set below the horizon and the only sounds are that of the crickets and the sticky summer heat, she makes him sit down on on his chair in the bedroom. She tells him that if he touches her without her permission she'll tie his hands together so tight he won't be able to feel them. She doesn't know if the look of excitement he gives her is from her threatening him or the potential consequences.
For whatever reason, the idea that he had thought of her, fantasized about her, makes her heart beat faster, her focus sharper, makes her want him more. She hadn't fantasized about being with him, but when it happened it'd felt so natural and right that she's surprised she hadn't.
He sits there in the chair, watching her with that gaze that makes her heart pound in her chest the same as it would when she was flinging herself through the air and going in for a kill. It makes her feel so good, so desired that she can't get enough of him looking at her like that.
So she takes her time undressing herself. She slowly undoes the buttons and lets the dress fall to the ground. She takes a moment, just standing there in just her underwear and runs a hand through her hair just because she knows he likes her hair. He's told her so in those vulnerable moments before completion; that lead up that almost feels better than actually finishing where you feel like the most desperate, most genuine, version of yourself.
She watches him swallow when she smooths her hands over her stomach, teases with the lace on her underwear but doesn't pull them down.
"Take off your pants," she says sharply.
She can tell it takes him a lot of effort to do this in a measured, controlled manner, can tell that he wants nothing more than to pull them off as quickly as possible. She can't wait to wear down that finely crafted control, like she always does.
He sits back down and she takes a moment to admire how he looks naked. When she looks at him, all she can think of is how his body looks in motion. He is such a physical being, so suited to the air, suited to combat that stillness looks almost unnatural. He always has this look of tension about him, as if his body is constantly ready for whatever is to come. He's all beautiful, lean muscle from years of necessity and she appreciates that necessity because she understands it. There is no vanity because his body is what kept him alive and she understands this better than perhaps anyone.
Still, this functionality appeals to her, so she kisses his pectoral muscles, letting her tongue lave over his nipple and enjoying gooseflesh that fans over his arms. The way he clenches his fist because she can tell he wants to touch her excites her.
She takes her time teasing him, lingering with her mouth on his hip bones, lightly tracing her fingers on the inside of his thighs until she hears him let out a quiet but definitely there noise between a groan and a whimper which nearly makes her laugh.
So she gently, almost coyly, smooths her tongue over the head of his cock and he immediately fans out his hands and clenches at his thighs. She can tell he's doing everything he can not to fist his hand in her hair and thrust into her mouth, and this moment of weakness pleases her to no end.
She'd never thought that she'd enjoy this as much as she does, feeling him hot in her mouth, the way he seems so vulnerable, even the taste of him makes her want to reach down between her legs and touch herself, but she needs to have more focus than that if she truly wants to unravel him. So she moves her mouth up and down as much of him as she can manage, using her hand to make up the difference. He starts to thrust reflexively into her mouth and she grabs his hip with her left hand and firmly holds him down in the chair simultaneously irritated and loving his lack of self-control.
"Mikasa–" he chokes out and she can tell he's about to come, even though he's trying not to.
Too bad.
She does her best to not cough or gag when he comes in her mouth and she considers herself moderately successful, though she's sure he doesn't notice either way. She pulls off him with a slight 'pop' sound and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Why'd you do that, that's disgusting." He asks, his breathing heavy and pupils blown.
She gets up off her knees and sits herself on the bed, popping her ass out in a way she knows makes her look desirable.
"You didn't seem to think so a moment ago, how's it any different from when you do me?"
"It just is," still he gets up off the chair and runs his hand up the back of her thigh and to her ass, playing with the lace of her black panties.
She nearly shivers at how good his hand feels on her, but she didn't tell him that he could get up, and this isn't what she has planned so she grabs his wrist so tightly she feels like it could nearly break. Here he is delicate, nearly feminine in his petite bone structure. She twists enough for him to stop the movement and cause that sharp sting of pain that the both of them enjoy. She pulls him to her, close enough that her lips brush up against his when she speaks.
"I didn't say you could touch me."
Even though he just came, she can see him twitch at her words.
He always gets off on this kind of thing.
"Sit back down."
He does so, eyes fixed on her curiously.
"Remember what you said the other day?" she asks coolly.
It takes him a moment, but she can see on his face when he remembers what she's referring to and he relaxes back into the chair, his gaze focused on her.
She starts slow, teasing him as she skirts around the lace of her bra until she reaches behind and takes it off. She runs her hands over her small breasts and rolls one of her nipples between her thumb and forefinger until it reaches a hard point.
He's wanted to watch her touch herself for a while, has told her he loves it when she does while he fucks her and she's always liked that, but the idea of putting herself on display like this has intimidated her.
Still, she runs her hands over her stomach and then slowly takes off her panties, balls them up and throws them into his lap.
She's almost surprised he doesn't pass out.
This gives her confidence when she slowly puts her hand between her legs and touches herself. She takes her time, running her fingers over the dampness of her opening and spreading it upward where she needs it, spinning slow, tight circles with her fingertips.
He watches her the whole time, hardly blinking and utterly captivated by the sight of her and this alone gets her off, the fact that he is content to just see her, to want her.
"Tell me what you want to do to me," she pants, her fingers still moving quickly.
He moves over to the foot of the bed and she doesn't have the sense to tell him to do otherwise, until his head is on her shoulder, his mouth against her ear.
"I want to touch every part of you, put my mouth on every inch of you, fuck you until you can't walk straight, be inside you when you come—"
"Fuck—" her head lolls to the side and she's so fucking close, "do it, touch me now, I want it—"
She's on her back with him moving inside her faster than she can make sense of, her back arching off the bed as she comes while he fucks her so hard the bed rattles against the wall.
He finishes with an uncharacteristic shout (he's normally quiet) and collapses on top of her. He stays inside her and kisses everywhere, her temple, her cheek, her mouth and she can't help but start to laugh because it tickles her overly sensitive body.
He eventually rolls off of her, quickly putting on his drawstring pants and laying back down on the bed. With a contented sigh says, "well, may as well kill me now, it's all downhill from here."
She laughs and pulls on her nightgown, then lays down again propping herself up on her side so she can look at him.
"Really? That good?"
He scoffs.
"I'm fucking forty years old and you had me worked up like some teenager who just discovered his cock."
She laughs again, feeling absolutely thrilled with her success.
"Teen Levi, hmm? Wonder what that looked life."
He runs a hand over his face.
"I can tell you, it was worse than you as a teen that's for sure."
"I was a model citizen," she drawls.
"That's not true and you know it, but compared to me maybe."
She traces a finger idly over his chest. "Tell me about it."
He sighs and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer.
"I was a teenager completely on my own, in the Underground City who stole 3DMG off of drunk, useless MPs, take a guess."
"Mm," she hums distractedly, letting her finger linger on the dip between his pectoral muscles.
Still, she wonders what he had been like, before the Survey Corps, before becoming humanity's strongest. She knows little of his background, just that his mother died when he was young and he'd been raised by his serial killer Uncle. Then he founded a band of thugs that became his family before he somehow ended up in the Survey Corps. She doesn't feel it's her place to ask all the details because she's sure there are personal things, though in passing he has mentioned Isabel and Farlan. She assumes that they're both dead because otherwise she would probably know them.
He runs a hand through her hair, his fingertips massaging on her scalp and she hums contentedly.
"You have beautiful hair," he says seriously.
She thinks back to all those years ago when Jean had said the same thing and she'd found it boring and even slightly annoying.
Coming from him it makes her chest feel tight and her cheeks feel warm.
"Thank you."
They lay there like that for a few minutes, quietly touching each other and thinking about nothing in particular which feels like relief.
She yawns and her eyes start to grow heavy, so she lays her head on his chest.
"I'm gonna fall asleep."
"It's okay, I'll move you when I want to sleep."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he reaches over and grabs her scarf off the bedside table. He wraps it around her hand just the way she likes to have it when she sleeps.
He does it the same as he would turn down the bedding or turn off the lamp, like it's just part of a routine. The gesture makes her feel genuinely cared for, so thought of that it's honestly foreign – it's been so long since someone has taken care of her.
"Thanks," she mumbles into his chest, snuggling the scarf tightly.
She falls asleep while he runs his hand through her hair and doesn't dream.
The next morning she wakes up and he's still asleep, sitting upright against the headboard the way he likes.
She can't recall a time she's actually seen him sleep and she knows that it's something he struggles with, so she sneaks as quietly as she can out of the bedroom and downstairs to make some breakfast.
She goes outside and lets the horses out to graze (even Erwin's asshole of a horse, who snaps at her three times) then gathers chicken eggs and the newspaper.
It's Friday, so she takes out the entertainment section and sees that her favorite band is playing at one of the clubs she used to frequent in the city. She thinks of the black dress that she has yet to wear, sitting in her trunk upstairs and her only twice worn dancing shoes.
She knows that Levi would grumble about being dragged all the way to the city to see a jazz band, but she wants to go.
She heads into the living room where the telephone is. She's only used one a handful of times, but she remembers how to use it. So she picks up and tells the operator to connect her to the Springer residence.
Sasha picks up.
"Hey, it's me."
"Oh hey Mikasa!" she says cheerily, "how are you? I got your note, hope you had a good night out."
She says it so neutrally that Mikasa can't help but agree with Levi that she definitely has an idea of what's going on.
Shorty is right.
"Hey, I was wondering if you and Connie wouldn't mind looking after Levi's animals this afternoon and tomorrow, my favorite band is playing in the city and I don't think he's ever heard Jazz so I was thinking about making him come along."
She tries her best to sound neutral and apathetic but she's so entirely sure she failed that she doesn't know why she bothered.
"What he hasn't heard jazz!? You guys have to go! Of course we'll take care of it, payback for everything you did while we were gone! Have a good time, but don't do anything I wouldn't!"
The line goes dead, and Mikasa groans.
Sasha definitely knows.
She doesn't know if she's more flustered at the idea of someone knowing about what goes on between her and Levi or more irritated at the fact that he was right.
He's still asleep and she expects him to push back about going to the city, so she does everything she can to assure her desired outcome – she cleans the floors as best as she can, tidies the newspapers and cooks breakfast so that all they have to do is pack clothes and call a driver when he wakes up.
As she's taking breakfast out of the oven (a popover in a cast iron skillet, one of the few mildly impressive things she knows how to cook), she hears him walking down the stairs.
He seems a little surprised to see her up and about but he looks well-rested, at least for him.
She grabs jam and powdered sugar to go with the popover and sets the table.
"What's gotten into you this morning?" He asks suspiciously.
"I want to go see a jazz band in the city tonight, you should come with me."
"I knew there was something you wanted," he says while spooning jam onto his breakfast.
"I've already asked Sasha to take care of the animals, I did some cleaning, and even put the horses out to pasture for the morning–"
"Fine, fine," he says, "I'll come with."
She must look surprised because he raises an eyebrow at her.
"Why are you so surprised, you clearly want to go so then why would I say no?" he says boredly.
She does everything she can to keep the grin off her face but fails. She rocks forward on the balls of her feet and kisses him quickly on the cheek.
"I'll go pack!"
She goes up the stairs so quickly that she misses the red flush on his cheeks.
It's early evening by the time they make it to the city and Mikasa has missed it – the lights, the hustle and bustle of people going about their business is somewhat comforting to her despite how different it is from anything she'd known before.
They're staying at a hotel downtown. When they get out of the car, Mikasa refuses the help of the bellhop, insisting she can carry her own things just fine, which makes Levi snicker as he lets the bellhop carry his suitcase up to the room.
"He's just a kid who wants a tip, why not let him do his job?" Levi says wryly as Mikasa lugs her suitcase to the room.
"Because it's a waste of money when I'm perfectly capable of carrying my things," she insists. She unlocks the door with the key and sets her suitcase down.
Levi teases her for being stubborn, until the bellhop leaves and thinks he's out of earshot and says "Wow! The Captain Levi!" and Mikasa swears she sees a vein throb in his temple.
Mikasa has to stop herself from laughing as she hangs up her dress and lays out her stockings for the evening and puts her make-up box in the powder room.
The sun is starting to set, but nothing interesting really happens before nine o'clock, so Mikasa isn't concerned.
She takes off her traveling clothes and and puts on her slip and clips her garter belt to her sheer stockings. She turns on the lights and looks in the mirror.
She sighs, running her thumb over the scar on her cheekbone and the ever present frown line between her eyebrows.
I'm gonna feel pretty tonight, dammit.
She doesn't have a lot of makeup, but what does have she really likes. As skillfully as she knows how to, she powders her face, applies rouge to her cheeks and combs her eyelashes until they're thick and inky black.
"Hey—"
She slams the door shut with her foot before he manages to have it open.
"What the hell—"
"I'm getting ready," she says as she applies a light sheen of powder to her eyelids.
"Newsflash, I've seen it all so modesty is a little useless at this point."
"Go away," she replies irritatedly.
She hears what is certainly him leaning his back on the closed door.
"You're taking forever," he complains after thirty seconds.
She grinds her teeth, resisting the urge to snap her lip brush in two and stab him with it.
"I'll be done soon, are you dressed because I'm gonna be pissed if we're late for the first set because you didn't put on your clothes while you complained about me taking too long."
"I kinda like it when you're angry, you do this thing—"
"You won't like it this time, I wouldn't be doing any things!"
She hears him laugh and she really considers opening the door and punching him right in the face.
"Yes, Mikasa, I'm dressed, just waiting on you," he drones.
"Well keep waiting, I'll be done in a bit."
He mumbles something that sounds like "women stuff" but remains quiet after that.
She dips her lip brush into the bright red liner and traces the outline of her lips carefully, ignoring the fact that Levi is without a doubt grumbling and rolling his eyes at how long she's taking.
Screw him, if I want to take my time I will.
When she's satisfied, she takes her matching lipstick out of her clutch and fills it in carefully, rubbing her lips together and kissing a wash rag to get rid of the excess.
She glances at herself in the mirror and smiles softly. Overall, she's happy with the general effect. She's not the best at this kind of thing, but she's spent enough time looking at magazines to know what she likes and doesn't like, what she thinks is flattering and what she finds gaudy.
She's tried to put her hair into those trendy finger wave curls but she can never manage to get her hair to cooperate, so she simply leaves it the way it always is because short hair is considered stylish now anyways, but she" adds a silver headband decorated with rhinestones.
She slips on her shoes, a small heel and a strap that makes them appropriate for dancing, then pulls her dress off the hangar.
It's black and knee length. The hemline is uneven so that it moves with the wearer. It's beaded with silver sequins and rhinestones at the waist and fabric gathers on the shoulders and trails off, creating an effect similar to sleeves but without covering any skin.
"Hey, can you come in here now?"
"Oh so I'm allowed in now, are you sure?"
"Stop being an ass and help me with the buttons on the back of my dress," she says waspishly.
She's frustrated that he's being so obstinate, it's like he's just trying to make her angry at this point.
He is quick with the tiny and delicate buttons that end in the middle of her back, leaving her shoulder blades bare.
"Thanks," she says shortly.
She turns around and grabs her clutch off the vanity.
"Okay, now we can go," she says shortly.
She heads towards the door and glances over her shoulder.
"Are you coming?"
He shakes his head as if he had been lost in thought a moment before.
"Yeah," he says quickly, following her outside.
She knows the way to this club, she'd been there a few times with Jean.
Levi seems on edge and she can't place exactly why. So she just decides to ignore him.
They make their way into the club, and then it's like she suddenly hears it.
"Is that…?"
"Yeah, I think it is!"
"Wow, Captain Levi!"
"For real?"
"He's so much shorter than I imagined."
She's amazed at how many people seem to recognize him, though she remembers what it was like watching the Survey Corps come back from expeditions as a child. The bodies on the wagons, the grim faces, and Humanity's Strongest always coming back, time and time again. She vividly remembers the expedition to Shiganshina, people shouting Levi's name despite the fact that he walked alongside Eren, the boy who'd literally sheltered the power of the Titans inside his body.
"Who's he with?"
"She looks different."
Mikasa is so used to these types of comments that she almost doesn't hear them, doesn't register them. After all, she's always been different looking.
"I'll get us drinks," she says cooly.
"Please," he says, clearly exasperated.
She doesn't know what he normally drinks, but she knows him and can guess that he'd like scotch, so she orders him a glass and gets herself a gin and tonic.
By the time she gets back, he's so irritated that he all but gulps the drink she brought him despite the fact that it's aged scotch.
"I'm sorry, I didn't anticipate this," she says.
"It's fine, just annoying, give me another drink and I won't notice."
"The band will start soon and people will pay attention to that instead of you."
When they finish their second round of drinks, they're both feeling more relaxed and he offers to go up to the bar.
"No, it'll be faster if I go, they like to serve women first."
He smiles wryly and he rubs his foot up against her's underneath the table.
"That makes sense, I'd rather give you drinks than me if I were a bartender," he teases.
The gesture is so juvenile, so stupid that she laughs and kicks his foot away with her's and he laughs at his failed overture.
"I'm a decent woman, I won't have some man of the world attempting to seduce me with such lewd behavior."
He rolls his eyes. "How many people have you fooled with that one?"
"Plenty, until you corrupted me."
The band has finally begun playing and Mikasa can't help but move slightly to the rhythm because she loves this music. Something about it is so exciting, so new and it makes her just want to move.
"Whiskey sour and a dry martini please," she says to the bartender.
"Man over there wants to buy you a drink," the bartender nods to the left at a younger looking brown haired man, clearly with a group of friends.
"No thanks," she says shortly. She doesn't like it when people try to buy her alcohol, even when she isn't out with someone else.
She takes the drinks and turns around, only to bump into someone.
"Sorry, I–"
"Mikasa?"
She looks up to see that she's bumped into Jean.
"Oh, hey," she says awkwardly, remembering their fight the last time they saw each other.
"I…I thought you left the city," he says. She can tell he's nervous.
"I did," she says shortly, "but this is my favorite band so I decided to come and listen."
"Yeah I remember. That they were your favorite, that is."
She feels the awkwardness between them and takes a sip of her martini.
He glances at the drinks.
"So are you drinking both of those or…?"
"Don't be stupid, you know I'm a lightweight–"
"Oi, Jean what's taking you so long did you– oh."
Jean looks over to a petite woman wearing a silver sequined dress and blonde, curly hair.
Jean clears his throat awkwardly.
"You remember Hitch Dreyse?"
Mikasa thinks for a moment and vaguely remembers her as a member of the Military Police.
"Mikasa Ackerman, I'd shake your hand but I don't want to drop these," she says apologetically.
"Oh it's fine," she smiles brightly, "where are you sitting? We didn't get in early enough to have a spot, do you have room?"
"Hitch–"
Mikasa can't get a read on if Hitch knows that she and Jean have something of a history together or if Hitch even remembers who she is. She highly doubts that anyone who'd been a soldier doesn't know who she is, but some people pretend because it's awkward.
Jean noticed she had two drinks, and unless she leaves right now there's no way to avoid that Jean will see who she's with, so she decides that it's better to just rip off the bandage, so to speak.
"Sure, we have room," she says politely.
She leads them over to the table and she looks at Levi, who's sitting there relaxed, leaning against the curve of the booth and looking slightly bored, though she sees him tapping his foot along to the music.
He sees her and the corner of his mouth upturns a little, not quite a smile but pleased all the same.
"I thought you'd gotten lost," he says sarcastically, taking the tumbler of whiskey from her and taking a sip.
She laughs a little nervously.
"What's–"
"Captain Levi!?"
Levi glares at Jean so sharply that she can't help but think that it's more than just the title that's irritating him.
"I haven't taken up any maritime activities so I'm not a Captain of anything," he quips.
Mikasa can see that Jean has no idea what he thinks of the two of them being here together.
He can draw his own conclusions.
"Right," he finally manages. "I thought you were out by Sasha and Connie," he says lightly.
"I am, but she," he nods his head towards Mikasa, "said I was missing out on this whole jazz thing so she dragged me out of my hiding place."
She smiles softly at this and slides into the booth next to him.
Hitch makes a face when she looks at Levi and Mikasa is starting to remember the incident between the two of them, that she'd blamed him for the deaths of all those people in Stohess and she realizes very quickly that this is going to be awkward.
"Who's your friend, Kirstein?"
Hitch glares.
"Hitch Dreyse, she was–"
"Oh that's right, I remember now," Levi drawls and takes another sip of his drink. "You're a smart one."
"Why's that?" Hitch asks.
"It's a good idea to keep company with people who have tried and failed to kill you, that's what I do with this one here," he nods over to Mikasa, "That way, you know where they stand, but also know that they won't follow through on it."
Mikasa stomps hard on his foot, making him wince.
"Stop being an ass," she hisses, then looks over to Hitch, "I'm sorry, he's not used to being out of his cage among civilized people."
"Don't let her fool you, she acts quiet but she's actually totally crazy," Levi says seriously.
Jean is looking at them both like they've started rambling about the Church of the Walls.
She sees him trying to work it out in his head, but he ends up settling for finishing his drink in one gulp.
Probably for the best Jean, you're not going to be able to figure this one out.
"Let's go dance," Mikasa says shortly, grabbing Levi by the arm and dragging him out of the booth.
He doesn't know the new dances, but he's a quick study so by the time the first set has ended he can twirl her and dip her like he's been doing it for years, which isn't surprising to her because how different are fighting and dancing, really?
Dancing with Levi is almost as fun as fighting with him. The music is loud, the club is packed with all types of people, everyone out to have a good time.
Her mind couldn't be further from the embarrassment she'd felt earlier. She's sweaty from dancing but she doesn't care. Her thoughts are loose from the liquor and she's having the most fun she's ever had.
They take a break and head back to their booth. Levi takes off his suit jacket because it's warm inside with all these people and Mikasa lets herself look unabashedly at his broad shoulders, remembering how nice his muscles feel under her hands, what it feels like when he pins her down with those strong arms and does whatever he wants with her.
"So, what do you think?"
"Good music," he says before he takes a sip of water.
"You're a good dancer considering you don't do it often."
He shrugs.
"You don't make it difficult," he says lightly.
He looks her up and down and it makes her pulse quicken. Suddenly she doesn't know how long she wants to stay out because as fun as it is, there are plenty of things she likes to do privately.
Someone else may have a hard time reading him, but she's gotten better at it. Sometimes he still leaves her feeling clueless, but she can tell that he's thinking the same thing she is.
Right when she's about to ask him if he wants to leave, Hitch, arm looped into Jean's as she drags him over while she waves at them.
She's friendlier when she's had a few drinks.
"Hey, Jean got the password for downstairs, you guys wanna go?"
She's only gone to a club that required a password one time, and she'll admit that it'd been fun. She'd also slept with Jean that same night, but that's somewhat irrelevant.
She can feel Jean looking at her. He has always been analytical, similar to Armin in this regard, and she can practically hear his mind trying to work out just what exactly is going on between her and Levi. She supposes that they could just look like friends out together.
"Do you want to?"
"Sure, if it's boring we can leave."
So they grab their things and head down a hallway to a staircase that goes underground to a door with a very large, imposing seeming man guarding the door.
Mikasa can't help but think this kind of thing funny, she knows that Levi wouldn't even break a sweat with a guy like that, but people usually hire bouncers for their appearances, not their actual skills.
Jean tells the too-big bouncer the password (gold rush) and they walk into the dimly lit basement. There's a singer dressed in next to nothing with only a piano for accompaniment. The room is blue with smoke, the wallpaper is peeling slightly and one of the light bulbs flicker.
Mikasa goes up to the bar and sees that they have a selection of cigars, so she buys one and two glasses of scotch that she thinks will go well.
She fumbles with the cigar cutter because it's been a while, but she manages. She takes out her matches and lights the end of the cigar, inhaling to get the ember going.
She walks back to where Levi's leaning against a wall with his arms crossed as he looks around the room appraisingly.
"Hey," she hands him the glass of scotch and takes another drag off of the cigar.
"Well look at you," he says teasingly.
She exhales and then takes a sip of the scotch.
"Mm, that's good together, here," she hands him the cigar.
"This is your's," he says skeptically.
"So?"
"So, it's been in your mouth."
"You're joking, right?"
"No."
"I regularly have my tongue in your mouth, among other places, and you're bitching about sharing a cigar?"
He sighs. "Alright," he inhales from the cigar. When he exhales she can't help but admire how handsome he looks in the dim light with a tumbler of scotch, his bowtie untied and just hanging around his neck.
He sips the scotch and makes a face.
"What do you think?"
"When did you develop such a taste for fancy shit like this, that's really good."
"See I told you, now give it back," she grabs it from him and takes a drag.
She glances across the room and sees that Jean and Hitch have started playing roulette, his arm wrapped low around her waist.
She sighs.
"This feels awkward."
He scoffs and grabs the cigar from her again.
"No kidding, surprised I haven't punched Kirstein's lights out."
"What? Why?"
He glares over in Jean's direction.
"Because he looks at you the same way he always has; like he'd rather be looking at you naked."
She laughs.
"You're imagining it, he's here with someone else, not to mention he already has seen me naked."
He frowns and it takes Mikasa a second.
He's jealous.
The thought is so absurd that she nearly starts laughing. For all his faults, Levi is an exceedingly rational person. His temper is limited to mild disdain and cool, restrained fury, so seeing him exhibit something as petty as jealousy over something like this is amusing.
And flattering if I don't lie to myself.
"I wouldn't worry about it," she says lightly, sidling up to him and putting his arm around her waist.
He doesn't miss a beat, sliding his hand down her waist and to her ass.
'I'm not worried about anything except how I manage to find my way under your dress as quickly as possible, because I can't stop thinking about how good your ass looks."
She swallows, wishing that they were anywhere but in public but simultaneously loving the fact that he wants her and that, despite his impatience earlier, her effort didn't go unnoticed.
"Just wait until we get an opportunity to ditch Jean, then we can see about my dress," she says, managing to sound more indifferent than she actually feels and taking another sip of the scotch.
Levi looks around the room.
"This place is surprisingly seedy, a drug deal just happened over there and I'm relatively confident that that asshole over there is a pimp."
Her eyes widen slightly.
"How do you tell?"
He shrugs. "Sensible people don't wear that many rings, and men usually aren't that interested in talking to other men at places like these, he's probably trying to meet a quota for the night."
He sighs and takes his hand off of her waist when he notices Jean and Hitch coming back over from the roulette table.
So he doesn't want to be caught fondling me, interesting.
Maybe he just doesn't want to deal with it, but Mikasa thinks he probably enjoys fucking with Jean's head more than anything.
"What're you guys up to, we just won a bunch of cash!" Hitch yells excitedly and entirely too close to Mikasa.
And I thought I couldn't handle my alcohol.
"We were just discussing the price of corn," Levi says sarcastically.
Hitch looks genuinely confused.
"That's a really strange thing to talk about."
Jean rolls his eyes. "He's fucking with you Hitch."
Hitch frowns. "You're an asshole."
"He knows that," Mikasa says boredly, taking another puff off the cigar.
"Since when do you smoke those?" Jean asks.
Mikasa shrugs.
"Since whenever I feel like it," she says a little too meanly.
Then she feels something rub up against her backside and she glares at Levi.
"What?" he asks.
"Don't–" but this time she feels someone grab her and laugh.
Before she realizes what she's doing, she's slammed her tall would-be-assailant up against the wall, his feet dangling on the ground.
The man is clearly terrified, his eyes wide with surprise which, considering she's holding him with one hand by the throat quite easily makes sense. She also recognizes him.
"You tried to buy me a drink earlier, didn't you?" she asks.
He can't really answer because her hand is gripping his throat.
"Oi, Mikasa–"
"Shut up Jean," she growls.
"Next time, take a hint," she lets go of him unceremoniously, watching him stumble to the ground and gasp for air.
"Let's go, I'm bored," she says to Levi.
He extinguishes the cigar on a nearby ashtray and puts back on his suit jacket.
"Fucking crazy bitch!"
Mikasa rolls her eyes, happy to ignore him until she hears him come from behind, swinging a punch at her head. Jean moves as if to intercept it and Levi just watches as she grabs the man's fist and, using her other arm for resistance, snaps the bone in his forearm like it's a twig. Then she tosses him to the ground and kicks him in the face, breaking his nose just because she feels like it.
"You must be a special kind of stupid," Levi says, clearly amused as he watches the man writhe on the ground. The whole room is watching, the singer even stopped singing.
People start to talk because of course people recognize Levi.
"I don't know why the hell people recognize me and not you," he deadpans.
"Morons like this guy only notice that I look different because I'm Oriental, sometimes it's hard when you do most of your thinking with your cock."
One of the guy's friends is trying to help him up off the ground and failing, getting blood from the broken nose all over his shirt.
"Do you half kill every guy who tries to cop a feel?!"
"Want to find out?"
She feels it, that anger, that adrenaline that compels her to fight until she's won, even though she still has some of her sensibilities about her. She knows he's just a pathetic piece of trash; still, she's angry, and when she's angry she likes to fight.
"Alright, let's go, we don't need to spend the night in jail even though I know you don't really give a shit about that kind of thing," Levi looks over to Jean and Hitch, the latter whose jaw seems to have permanently dropped open in shock, and simply nods goodbye.
He grabs her and leads her out of the club, both of them ignoring the shocked expressions of the other patrons.
Mikasa is still angry, her head swimming from the potent combination of alcohol and adrenaline. She'd forgotten how easy it was to hurt someone that wasn't Levi, how powerful it made her feel to watch his body crumple up, the satisfying snap sound of a broken bone.
Mikasa is lost in her thoughts the whole walk to the hotel room.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Levi pins her up against the door and kisses her. She gasps in surprise, but quickly catches up to his mood. The kiss is bruising and hard, all teeth and tongue, he has a hand on her thigh, gripping it tightly and another on her breast.
"Watching you beat the shit out of that scumbag was one of the hottest things I've ever seen," he says while he fumbles with the buttons on the back of her dress with an urgency that borders on frantic.
"Tell me more," she demands while she unbuttons his shirt. She loves hearing him tell her about how attractive he finds her, how much he wants her.
He finally manages to undo her dress and pulls it off her shoulders so it slips off of her and onto the ground.
"Fucking Kirstein," he kisses her throat and undoes the clasp of her bra, "was staring at you the whole night," he throws her bra to the ground and kisses down her clavicle to her breast, "even though he had that fucking police reject hanging on him," he sucks on her nipple and she throws her head back and inhales sharply, "but I can't blame him," he murmurs against her skin, "because he knows what he's missing, I almost feel sorry for him."
She knows that the alcohol has loosened his tongue and she can't say that she minds one bit. It makes her feel powerful, important, wanted.
He undoes the garter belt with dexterity that surely stems from years of wearing 3DMG, making quick work of her stockings and underwear, leaving her completely naked. He sits down on the foot of the bed and pulls her into his lap, and he kisses and sucks on her breasts for what feels like hours, until she's subconsciously squeezing her legs together and writhing around on him, desperate for some sort of relief.
He lays her down on the bed and without any sort of prelude puts his mouth between her legs. Normally he takes his time, spends a few minutes teasing her, working her up a little bit. Instead it feels like he can't get enough of her, like he'll die if he doesn't map out every nerve, every fold with the flat of his tongue.
The alcohol has taken the few inhibitions she has, so she doesn't hesitate when she pushes herself harder against his mouth, about grabbing his hair and pulling him towards her.
"Fuck use your fingers too."
He's quick to oblige her and the sound of his tongue moving in tandem with his fingers inside of her has her toes curling in the sheets and yelling complete nonsense.
She swears that the world flashes white for a second when she comes. He doesn't stop, knows that it's different for her and lasts longer and the room is filled with the sound of her heavy breathing, coming in short gasps of air.
After a moment it's too much and she pulls away from him. Sometimes after she comes she finds herself tired, but right now she feels completely energized, like her body is hooked up to a live wire and she has to move or she'll go crazy. She pulls him up to her and then rolls on top of him, loving the way he watches her, like he needs to commit her every move to memory.
She takes off his pants, tossing them carelessly onto the floor and straddles him, lining herself up with him and sinking down onto him.
He's worked up, grabbing at her waist and thrusting his hips upward to meet her movements. That cool, aloof facade of his is completely gone as she rides him. She loves it when he's like this, completely in the moment, like she could ask him his own name and he wouldn't know it because his only thought is of her.
"Say my name, I want to hear you say it."
He sits up so that their chests are pressed flush against each other as she rocks against him, and all he does is say her name, over and over again in her ear while he grabs at her shoulders, pressing himself even closer to her as he finishes.
They both take a moment to catch their breath, laying next to each other, sweat slicked bodies on the rumpled bedding.
Once she's collected herself she snuggles up against him and sighs, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat, the smell of him, the warmth of his skin.
He traces bored circles on her shoulder blades and sighs.
"You don't have anything to worry about," she says lightly.
"Hmm?"
"About Jean," she pauses for a moment because even drunk it takes a bit for her to say. "I like you," she says, "I like you a lot."
He laughs and closes his eyes.
"That's good, I like you too."
She knows that it's more than that; that she's dangerously close to so many wonderful, beautiful, absolutely terrifying things with him, but for now this is enough.