A few things to start with:

Sorry it took such an absurd amount of time to post such a tiny chapter. There were lots of things in this chapter I just wasn't sure how to handle without making it... Cheesy? Unrealistic? It's still probably both those things - technically this is a rough draft - and I apologies in advance.

Also, this chapter is like that one scene in a movie that uses 'fuck' a few times, has some suggestive stuff, and makes the whole movie R when it really shouldn't be. Anyway, this chapter does have some of the stuff written above, but nothing worthy of making the entire thing M. So yeah, fair warning. And if anyone feels like I really should change the rating just tell me.

(Yeah, I'm really nervous about this. Also, the next chapter is the last one, and in the end these last two parts should really be the same chapter.) (But meh.)

Without Words Part Four:

Armin and Annie were sprawled across the couch, bodies pressed into the cushions, limbs tangled together. A heavy quilt rested on top of them, trapping out the cool February air. Armin buried his face in her neck, letting his breath warm the exposed skin. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths. The faint blue glow of the TV lit up the room. Annie had fallen asleep to some made for TV movie that you watched in a late night haze, only the sound of explosions to keep you awake. Subtitles didn't quite have the same effect, with only a small [Explosion] caption to go with crappy effects. Armin had paid a bit more attention than Annie had - filling in the blanks with sounds half-remembered from his childhood - but not much more. The thought that there were so many things Annie would never hear made his guts clench and his heart drop a bit. Although another part of him was happy she didn't know the sound of a real explosion.

He held her tighter, guilt creeping up in his throat. He still hadn't told her.

Annie responded to the change in pressure, stirring. Armin let his hand drift under her shirt, resting it against her stomach. He brushed his lips across her neck, a need for closeness forming in his stomach that he'd never quite felt before. The hand on Annie's stomach moved to her back, unclasping her bra as he leaned in to kiss her awake. When he pulled away, Annie met his eyes questioningly.

But Annie knew what he wanted. She could feel it radiating from his entire being, see it in his eyes, feel it in the softness of his lips against hers. And Annie wanted it too. They had been together for months now, the dorm was empty, and she trusted him - more than she'd like to admit. His lips brushed across her chest and she shivered.

Armin pulled away and signed in the faint light of the TV screen, hands leaving shadowy shapes thrown across the wall. "Is this okay? Do you want to... Copulate?"

His word choice pulled a giggle from her lips. She pulled him into a kiss that said yes in a way no sign or spoken word could convey. With surprising strength, he carried her into the bedroom. Usually it was filled with the chorused snores of Jean and Eren, but they were out drinking and the room was empty.

Annie's back pressed into the comforter, Armin laying flush against her.
Annie ran her hands up his sides, pulling off his shirt and leaving marks of fire across already heated skin. They removed layers between long kisses, Armin's eyes always questioning, always offering a chance to stop. But Annie always shook her head, and the last bit of clothing fell to the floor.

Even though he couldn't speak a word to her, Armin's lips told stories. The soft intake of air as her warmth closed around him, his quivering breaths pulling at her own. His mouth falling open in unheard moans, his lips forming her name. The desperate kiss that muffled her own voice, and the tickle of his lips exploring every part of her body. A final, chaste kiss on her cheek before he dropped to her side, holding her close as her heaving chest slowed and they drifted into an oblivion.

Sometime during all this, Eren and Jean had returned from their failed night of picking up chicks. They first found the abandoned TV that was playing an hour long commercial. Then it was the blanket, Annie's shirt, her bra, and then the slightly cracked door that lead to the bedroom. A curious Eren peeked through the crack, then quickly turned away, blushing. "Jean, I call the couch."

"What do you mean you call the -" A moan drifted through the silence. "Oh."

Armin had woken to Annie's face twice before. Once on their first date, and the second after his grandfather's funeral. She had been helping him clean the house out, and for the first time since the hospital, Armin cried. Gross sobs wracked his frame as he rambled on in revulsion, claiming his grandfather's death was his own fault. He knew it was foolish, but the pain hadn't dulled enough then to be sensible. Annie had lulled him into a stupor with her fingers, easing him onto her lap. He'd lost consciousness and woken three hours later to her looking down on him.

Neither time compared to how gorgeous Annie looked now. Her features were at rest, framed by tangled locks of white gold. A bruise was forming on her porcelain skin, just above her left shoulder. Embarrassment bubbled up in his throat. He'd left a mark on her. Armin leaned forward, kissing the discolored skin. She shifted, pushing her body against his. The guilt, momentarily lost in their night together, reared its monstrous head yet again.

He kissed her ear, rousing her from a peaceful sleep. Her glistening eyes opened, and Armin felt his throat tighten. He slipped out of the bed, less aware of his nakedness then than he had been when she was flush against him. Even so, he picked his boxers from the floor half thinking.

Shrouded only in his underwear, Armin shuffled through his desk, looking for pen and paper. What he had to say was far too complicated to communicate through sign language. Armin was best with words on paper, and as he began to write, he thought his hands were shaking too much to have tried otherwise.

As you know, my grandfather was not a poor man, nor did he suffer the 'fools' we know as doctors. For some time after the accident, he had argued with every medical doctor in a hundred mile radius who said my hearing loss was permanent. (And a few baggers at the grocery store.) After a year or two I thought he gave up on that dream. Apparently not. Several weeks ago, we retrieved his will from a safe in his bedroom. According to the will, there is a bank account in my name with a considerable sum of money in it. He requested I use it on whatever new technology they have to restore - and I quote - one of the two things he took from me. Obviously the technology is nothing compared to what he assumed it would be, and the notion that he took anything from me is ludicrous, but I'd like to respect his final wishes just the same. Either way, there is a crap ton of money sitting around - enough to make a payment on a house, or a car, or go to France - and I'm not sure what to do with it. This is a big decision and I don't know what to do.

Armin paused for a moment, the pen held above the paper. Lost in his words, Armin hadn't noticed Annie creeping up behind him. One hand held the sheets wrapped around her, the other reached over and plucked the pen out of Armin's grasp.

You're saying he's giving you a chance to get back your hearing? Technology has changed a lot in the past ten years, what seemed impossible then is just uncommon now. Please do what you want, don't let me keep you from this. I'll always care for you, and if you think I'll be mad if you wanted to try, you're wrong. And don't you dare think for a second about using that money on me. I'm happy the way I am, I don't want to relearn my way of life.

She held the pen out to him so he could reply, but he took it and laid it on the table before wrapping his hand around hers.

He didn't really know what he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to see the world, or keep his grandfathers house, or go to a better collage. Another part longed to hear his own voice again and the music his old high school friends used to make. He wanted to hear Annie's heartbeat, her breath, her voice. But was that even possible? Armin didn't know, and neither did Annie. He wondered if her own mind was whirling like his was.

(In reality, Annie was focused on his use of 'nor'. English freak, Annie thought, smiling to herself.)

"You sure you're okay with it?" Armin signed, turning to face her.

"Yeah, it's not like I want to hear anyway. Being able to functioning like a human being my mother was so convinced I wasn't feels like a nice big fuck you."

"Then we'll look into it? See if it's possible?"

"Yeah. And if not we're going to Europe."

Armin closed the space between them, holding her close and resting his head on top of hers. Her entire body shook, and he felt her smile pressing against his chest. Behind them, Armin saw the door crack open. Jean peered through, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "What's up with the crazy laughter? What'd you do? Forget to use protection?" Jean managed to convey the broken sentences with a mix of sign language, mouthing, and random gestures. He smiled cockily.

Armin was sure he was blushing, but shook his head. More responsible than that, he mouthed back. Behind Annie's back, Armin gave him the universal sign for fuck off.

As Jean left, Annie looked up at him, a big smile on her face. His stomach clenched, but not out of sadness or guilt or lust, but an emotion Armin had only ever associated with Annie. I love you Annie, he thought as they kissed in that messy room as the pale winter light drifted in, warmed by the tint of the blinds.