Eren took Valentine's Day seriously, as he did most things. His younger years were marked by all-nighters spent painstakingly preparing personalized cards for each and every one of his classmates. Even Jean got one – after all, Valentine's Day was all about sincere outpourings of emotion, and there was nothing insincere about Eren's feelings that Jean was a stupid poo baby.

Certain individuals, though, received more than a tenderly-crafted card, carefully assembled with the finest macaroni and glitter glue. Certain individuals deserved the moon and the stars, even if all Eren could really afford was what he could save up from his allowance and chore duty. Celestial offerings being out of the question with Eren's current savings, certain individuals needed to be provided with a consolation prize worthy of them.

Eren stared mournfully at the aquarium selection in the pet store. Armin already had like a million of those sucker fishes ("Plecostomus," he could hear Armin correct him in his mind's ear), and those other fish might say "shark" on them but Armin had told him that they wouldn't grow as big as Eren was probably hoping. This false advertising confused and upset him, as Eren had wanted to dig a moat around Armin's house and fill it with some sharks and maybe a crocodile or two. This would keep Armin safe, and Armin loved keeping his aquarium besides. Alas, his plans had come to a screeching halt, and he was down another Valentine's gift idea.

He sighed and turned. Mikasa stood behind him, and a large tropical bird was perched upon her head. She appeared to be paying it no mind.

"Let's go," Eren grumbled.

"Perhaps you could buy him a shark or three," Mikasa offered. "And dig a moat around his house to keep him safe."

"Armin said that these sharks will only grow to like, four feet. Or even less."

Mikasa's eyes narrowed. "…false advertising. How disingenuous."

"BRAWK," shrieked the bird, and flew off into the bowels of the shop.

"Right!?" Eren shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, and began to stalk out of the store in righteous fury. "And they don't even eat criminals. Only worms and shrimp."

Eren had had quite enough of the deceit inherent in the capitalist bastion known as the mall pet store. And yet, he had precious little other choice but to search its depths for a gift worthy of Armin. He eyed the bag swinging from Mikasa's arm.

"What'd you get Annie?"

"Ten pounds of beef jerky and seasons one through four of Man Versus Wild," Mikasa said, coolly. "It will be the prize for her besting me two out of three in a cage match."

An almost dreamy smile crossed Mikasa's face.

"It will be very invigorating," she finished.

For a moment, Eren considered the thought of challenging Armin to a cage match. The idea of hitting Armin, even for fun (or for – whatever Mikasa and Annie felt when trying to knock each other's skull in), was completely foreign to him. Maybe they could have like, a pillow fight? Where the winner could do whatever they wanted to the loser? And Eren could deliberately throw the match and be at Armin's total mercy and maybe Armin could pull his hair a little and –

Eren likely would have seen the water fountain coming had he not been enraptured by his thoughts of screwing Armin senseless in a nest of pillows. As it was, he tripped over his feet and tumbled in with a splash. Mikasa tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I was still planning out the cage match," she said. "I apologize for not warning you. Shall we get going if you haven't found an appropriate gift?"

Eren scowled and clambered to his feet, and dried himself with a quick, furious shake.

"I guess," he mumbled.

Thanks to the dishonesty of the world of retail, a sharks-and-crocodile moat was beyond his means to grant. A high-stakes pillow fight, while extremely tempting, didn't seem quite enough. Eren would have to go undercover. He had a mission, and would not fail it.


Lying to Armin was painful. But to make this Valentine's Day truly great, the ends justified the means.

The scene: in Armin's room, on Armin's bed, cozied up all warm and snuggly while Armin did his coursework from the university classes he took on the side. The warmth and Armin's soft hair against his cheek was hard to give up, but the plan must be set into motion. Eren cleared his throat, and steeled his determination.

"Armin–"

Armin gave a quick, sneaky kiss to Eren's jaw, and focused his attention back to his laptop. Eren's mind screamed at him to focus, while Eren's heart and wiener screamed at him to get more smooches. There would be time enough for smooches later. Stick to the plan.

"Armin. I really need popcorn and I need you to get it and also leave your laptop open when you leave the room."

Armin slowly turned to meet Eren's eyes. Eren stared, blank-faced and unblinkingly back. Emotions were suspicious. Blinking was suspicious. Banish both until the mission is complete.

Armin sighed and squirmed out from under the covers with some reluctance.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said. "I'll knock before coming in."

Everything was coming up Eren. Armin was none the wiser, and even was going to knock before coming back with the popcorn; probably to announce that there was popcorn. As Armin shuffled out of the room in his bunny slippers, Eren lunged for the laptop the second the door closed.

He frantically clicked through the complex essays and charts that Armin was doing for his class, clicked through the open tabs and bookmarks in his browser to find something, anything that would tell him what Armin would want for a gift. The minutes ticked by, agonizing. The popcorn would be ready soon, too soon, and the plan would be a failure. Eren would not give in to despair, and would not be defeated.

Suddenly, he saw it, a folder in Armin's bookmarks. "Lolita wishlist." Filled with dresses – dresses that Armin would look so hell-ass fucking pretty in, and, and…shit, those price tags were steep, but if Armin wanted these, and then he could wear them to the school's Valentine's dance, and…

There was a knock at the door. Eren grabbed at his phone.

"Just a second! Not ready for the popcorn yet!" he yelled as he furiously typed in some relevant information for his search.

Eren carefully reviewed the data he'd gathered ("ARMIN IN FRILLY DRESS V DAY DANCE GO HERE," with pertinent URLs), and set his phone carefully back on the side table. He made sure to close out all the tabs he'd opened on Armin's laptop, and even brought up the document he'd been working on. His tracks now flawlessly covered, he leapt out of bed, full of adrenaline and the satisfaction of a job well done. He flung open the door himself, and took the popcorn bowl in one arm as he swept Armin into the other to plant a smooch on his mouth. Armin drew back, eyebrows raised, but mouth quirked in a fond smile. He paused just long enough to cup Eren's cheek with his hand, thumb skimming along the curve as he leaned back in.

Just as Eren thought, there would be time enough for smooches.


With the precious intel he'd gathered, Eren now had a plan of action. There was simply the matter of gathering the funds to pursue it. He had some money saved up, sure, but those dresses were expensive, and he still had to find a way to make a few hundred dollars (plus the fee for super-fast shipping). Asking his parents for money was an absolute last resort. Only the weakest of boyfriends asked for help from their parents when buying dresses for their boyfriend. Eren had strength and determination to spare, and there was simply the matter of finding a way to monetize it. And quickly.

He thought on this, long and hard, during home economics the following day. Coach Levi taught it, which made it a miserable enough experience to begin with – they had spent a whole semester on learning the best chemicals to clean every household surface, and last year's final exam was a pass/fail on whether you could dissemble, clean, and reassemble a vacuum in under three minutes. When the school administration forced him to do cooking courses, it took on a whole new level of awful.

As Connie moved to set his batter-dripping mixing spoon down for a moment, Levi seized it before it could even touch the countertop, and scurried over to the sink to furiously scrub it clean. Connie made a helpless noise, gesturing at the half-mixed bowl of cookie dough in front of him.

"Coach, I wasn't done!" he protested.

Levi fixed him with a beady-eyed glare over his face mask as he bent over the spoon, scrubbing it almost jealously.

"Raw eggs," Levi hissed. "Cookie dough has raw eggs, which have salmonella, which will breed their horrible little dicks dry all over my classroom's countertops if you touch them with your filthy spoons."

"As if you don't douse the place in bleach after every class period," Jean mumbled under his breath.

Levi descended upon him in an instant. "Kirstein," he said, low and dangerous. "What did you say was the best chemical combination to clean my granite countertops?"

Jean swallowed hard, his face white as a sheet. His eyes darted to focus on a point on the ceiling instead of at Levi's soul-piercing glare. Despite himself, Eren couldn't help but sympathize.

"U-uh. That would be. Three parts dish soap to one part rubbing alcohol. Bleach will eat away at the surface and the micro-abrasions will become breeding grounds for bacteria."

Levi hmmed in approval, and slowly moved back to the sink with the spoon, never breaking eye contact with Jean until he was once more within reach of the dish soap. Jean heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back against the countertop. Training for the cooking competition against the Titans was rough.

Krista spooned another blob of cookie dough onto the pan, her head tilted in thought. "Have you thought about helping out Coach Hanji in her lab? She's always talking about how she's looking for assistants."

Since Armin and Mikasa didn't have home economics this period, Eren had to seek other project partnership, which usually landed him with Connie or Krista. Krista always had a sympathetic ear and a deft hand with a spatula and burn cream, so it wasn't too terrible. (Even though Eren sometimes had to deal with Ymir glaring at him hatefully through the windows. Didn't she have better things to do at this time of day? Like be in class?) Currently, she was advising him on options to sell himself for quick cash, and if all she could think of was to hand himself over to the mercy of Hanji, Eren's options were grim. Krista patted his arm encouragingly.

"I've heard that her main focus has been environmental science recently," she said. "She'll probably just have you out in the field with her for a week, collecting data–"

On cue, Hanji's foot kicked the door of the classroom in. She strolled in, whistling, and dragging a black garbage bag behind her. The garbage bag smelled suspiciously corpse-esque, and the outline of whatever was inside did not dispel this assumption.

"Was on my way back from the university to pick up a fresh cadaver, and I smelled cookies baking!" she trilled. "Your taste tester's here!"

Levi seemed to be paralyzed with indecision on whether to yell at her first for her mud-caked boots, her dripping wet coat, or for the dead body she had dragged into his classroom. He clutched the now-sparkling clean spoon close to his chest, like a protective talisman, as Hanji approached.

"Take the goddamn cookies and leave, and take the fucking stiff with y–"

Hanji pinched his cheek and stuffed two cookies into her mouth, and a heaping handful into each coat pocket. Levi's face was stark white, and contorted into a frozen, terrifying grimace. Noise eventually escaped him like a deflating balloon, and he lunged, grabbing Hanji by the collar and dragging her (and the body) to the door.

Eren watched them go, and steeled himself for his fate.

What was a little bit of work with the dead when Valentine's Day was on the line?


"Would you care to discuss it?" asked Mikasa.

"No," Eren said. "Find the yellow and black one with the bunny design. That was the first one on Armin's list."

Somehow, Mikasa let him leave it at that. For that, Eren was grateful. It had been a very, very long week. The experience had gotten him enough money to make up the difference for the dress, as well as the knowledge that the forensics they showed on television was complete bullshit. Now that he had what he needed, he was eager to leave the whole sorry business behind him and move forward, move forward to buying dresses from websites that he couldn't read, move forward to dressing Armin up in them and twirling him around at the Valentine's dance.

"Size," Mikasa prompted.

"Huh? I dunno, I think he takes a small size in shirts."

Mikasa eyed him and pointed to the screen. "Exact centimeters. We must order tonight for it to arrive on time, even on the fastest shipping option. We must make haste to Armin's to take his measurements without him being any the wiser. I will enter through the window while you create some form of sexually-based diversion, and…"

Eren wasn't listening – the direness of the situation and his determination had sent him to the Zone. They needed exact measurements, and certainly couldn't ask Armin directly lest the surprise be spoiled. Eren stared at the list of needed measurements on Mikasa's laptop screen. Waist – easy enough, about sixty-four centimeters, converting from the inches of his trouser waist size. Hip, also easy. Eren's hands had smoothed down Armin's sides often enough to know that his lean, narrow hips were barely wider than his waist – perhaps a centimeter or two for give, but it didn't seem like it'd matter from the size chart. Shoulder and bust were trickier. But wait – Armin had worn Eren's shirts often enough to give him an idea. Almost in a trance, Eren seized the measuring tape from Mikasa's hands and held it to his shoulders, his chest. The fabric from Eren's shirts had draped from Armin's shoulders just so, and the collar dropped down about this low…when Eren returned to his senses, he had typed in the exact numbers to the computer. Eren squinted almost in disbelief at what they boiled down to in the site's sizing list.

"…a large? For Armin? Geez, Japanese clothes are weird."

Mikasa stared at him, with a hint of disappointment in her features. She reluctantly set down her rope and grappling hook to take her laptop back and complete the order.

"It is done," she said. "The shipment will arrive on the eve of Valentine's Day."

Eren heaved a sigh of relief. No more digging holes in the woods, no more bolting out of the way from Hanji hurling axes. It was just time to sit, and wait for the mailman to pull through.


The stage had been set for a romantic evening. The dress had arrived that morning, and Eren had taken the time to wrap it as beautifully as he was able. Roughly a dozen bows were plastered to the wrapping paper, and Eren tried hard not to crush them as he carried the package to Armin's door to pick him up for the dance. Mikasa was driving, and her parents had let her borrow the car with the ski rack on top – which was a good thing, as the only way Mikasa had gotten Annie to agree to come to a school dance was to best her in a duel and tie her to said ski rack. Eren turned to look at Mikasa before he knocked, steeling himself. Mikasa waved vaguely, busying herself with re-securing Annie's ropes.

Eren swallowed hard, and rang the doorbell. Armin was at the door within the minute, and oh, he looked so great in his dress pants and silk vest and red bow tie and Eren almost reconsidered giving him the present. Almost. That week in the forest dragging a corpse around still weighed in heavily.

"Y…you look great, but, here." Eren shoved the package into Armin's arms. "Look inside and maybe you can wear it to the dance tonight if you want to."

Armin delicately opened the package, taking care not to rip the paper, and selected a green bow to stick on to Eren's shirt like a corsage. His eyes went wide as the package's contents were brought to light.

Eren hadn't felt this awkward since he was thirteen years old and popping a boner every time Armin brushed up against him when walking to class. His heart was pounding as Armin held the dress up to himself.

"…it's one of the ones you wanted, right? And fits okay?"

Eren didn't feel like he'd ever get enough of the feel of Armin tucked up against him in his arms, but this, this was even more special than usual. Armin buried his face against his neck, mouthing thank you, thank you, over and over again into his skin. Eren drew him even closer, tucked his nose into Armin's hair, and breathed a deep, happy sigh.

Their moment was ruined by Mikasa breaking the silence of the night air.

"The prisoner grows restless. Please go change and we can be off."

Armin drew back just enough to cup Eren's face in his hands, bringing their foreheads to rest against each other. He smiled, then, and his eyes were so blue, and that week in the woods seemed like nothing at all.


The dance went well, all things considered. The music wasn't bad, the crowd was the same as ever, and Annie only managed to break out of her restraints three-quarters of the night through. That last quarter was pretty intense, but Eren still managed to get his slow dance with Armin once Hanji got the net out. Mikasa and Annie were relegated to the penalty box for the remainder of the evening, with Ymir (who'd spiked the punch) and Sasha (who'd drank the punch and then punched out Jean in an argument over the applicability of the Chicken Dance in social gatherings) for company. Connie and Krista awkwardly swayed with each other on the dance floor out of some sense of solidarity. Eren and Armin twirled around the floor to the sounds of Celine Dion, while Levi mopped up the blood from the floor and Reiner (another punch victim) half-danced with, half-sobbed on Bertholt about the movie Titanic.

"And they're together at the end, you know? And that's how you know she never let go, Bert, she just never did…"

Reiner dissolved into weeping, and buried his face against Bertholt's chest as Bertholt continued to drag him around the dance floor, clearly at a loss for what else to do.

The night ended, and Mikasa drove them back to Armin's house. Eren had already told his mom that he'd be staying over at Armin's that night, and Armin had cleared it with his grandfather, and that meant—

"We don't need any fucking more!" Eren tried and failed to slap Mikasa's hands away as she stuffed more condoms into his pockets.

Mikasa more delicately placed a few more condoms into Armin's purse (her gift to him, from the same website), and nodded to them both.

"I hope that you enjoy your sexual activity tonight," she said. "Be it anal intercourse or not. We will be taking our leave to conclude the discussion that Coach Hanji interrupted at the dance."

So "discussion" is what they called that dance floor battle. Eren wasn't terribly surprised that the two of them possessed such intense moves, but the amount of blood in a human body always somehow astounded him.

Eren and Armin waved Mikasa off, and would have done the same to Annie if she had not been relocated to the trunk. Up in Armin's room, they tucked close to each other on the bed, silent and comfortable and warm. Armin had taken off and hung up the outer part of the dress once they'd gotten into the room to keep it clean, and now relaxed against Eren in underclothes and tights and petticoats. Armin's lace-gloved fingers tugged at the knot of Eren's tie until it slithered undone.

"…are you mad that I went through your laptop without asking?" Eren asked, softly.

Eren felt Armin shake his head more than he saw it. Armin's fingers moved to the top buttons on Eren's shirt, and snuck under his shirt once they were undone. Eren let his eyes close briefly at the feel of Armin's lace gloves tracing his collarbone.

"Thank you for buying this for me," Armin said, softly. His fingers trailed up Eren's neck, and up to his jaw. "I know how expensive it all is. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

Eren made a low noise as Armin's lips found his earlobe, and lower still when Armin set his teeth to it.

"…n…no trouble," Eren murmured.

Armin moved, slow and deliberate in a whisper of petticoats to straddle Eren. He bracketed Eren's head with his hands, and leaned down to press his lips, just a touch, to the side of Eren's mouth.

"Can I repay you anyway?" he asked.

Eren sucked in a breath as Armin settled himself to sit on him, his ass firm against an erection that was becoming more obvious by the second. Armin shifted his hips, and smiled so fucking sweetly at the moan that tore from Eren's lips at the jolt of pleasure the movement caused.

Armin went willingly when Eren fisted his hands in his hair to drag him in for a proper kiss. God, they never got time to themselves lately, they never did, never an empty house so they could come out from under the covers and get their clothes fully off and be as loud as they wanted. It was only ever hurried handjobs underneath the blankets with Armin's hand clamped over his own mouth, Eren trying and failing to keep himself quiet with the skin of Armin's neck while Armin's other hand reached back to grasp him and return the favor. They hadn't had a place to themselves once – not even once – since that night two months back when he'd put it in Armin for the first time, and fuck, Eren would die if it was also going to be the last time. When Eren was in bed alone, he would let his eyes drift shut, his hand drift down, and remember the little gasp Armin had made when Eren first pushed inside, the way Armin's entire body was shivering and blushing by the end, the way his thighs squeezed him tight as he came with Eren's cock buried deep inside of him.

Eren made a frustrated noise, and his hands dove underneath Armin's petticoats. Armin kissed Eren's temple, lace gloves scratching lightly against his cheek.

"My grandfather's downstairs," Armin whispered. "We…we have to be quiet, if we're going to…"

Eren's fingers met with the soft, soft skin of Armin's inner thigh, just peeking out from the tops of his thigh highs. He followed the softness, the warmth upward, until his hand fumbled up to grasp at his dick through his panties. Eren gave Armin a pained look.

"I'll be quiet, stuff a sock in my mouth if you have to, just, can we…can we please, I wanna be in you so fucking bad…"

He was rambling, and so, so sincere about every word stumbling out of his mouth. He'd deal with being gagged, but right now, he needed to fuck Armin so bad that he felt like he was going to explode. Armin whimpered and rocked into his hand, which did not help matters at all. Eren jerked him, firm and slow, his body on fire as every rock of Armin's hips rubbed the tight swell of his ass against his painfully hard cock.

"Wait," Armin whispered, and Eren did, he did even though he felt like every second not spent touching, kissing, inside Armin was a second wasted off his life.

Armin shifted himself off Eren, and kissed him to hush the strangled moan of protest that arose.

"Get the – the lube and c-condoms ready, I want to get out of my petticoats so they don't stain…"

Eren yanked open the nightstand drawer nearly out of the nightstand altogether, and grabbed a handful of condoms and the tiny plastic tube from their hiding place underneath notebooks and pens. Armin climbed back on top of Eren, still wearing the thigh-highs, still wearing his gloves, and nothing else at all. Even when shaking, his hands made faster work of the buttons of Eren's shirt than Eren's would have in this situation. Eren nearly broke his promise of quiet the second that Armin's lacey fingers brushed against and circled his nipples.

"Prep me?" Armin asked, soft.

Eren nodded so hard he felt like his head would wobble off. He wet his fingers with the tube and drew Armin close, chest to chest, and tucked his mouth behind Armin's ear as his hand dipped lower.

Eren wouldn't let himself forget what happened the first time he'd tried to get Armin ready, though he was currently determined to make Armin forget. He let his finger circle gently, just one finger, with the barest hint of pressure, pressing wet kisses and breathing wet breaths behind and into Armin's ear. When he tried to slide it in, god, it was so easy, so warm and tight. Eren slid it in to the knuckle, rubbing Armin's back to soothe him. Armin didn't seem to need any soothing at all. Eren could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and Armin tilted his hips up and back, his breath whispering out please on every exhale.

Two fingers, three, and Armin's teeth were in Eren's shoulder, silencing his moans against the skin. Eren watched Armin's hips move, entranced, watched Armin fuck himself on Eren's fingers. It was almost a sight enough to made Eren forget about the needy ache between his thighs, almost enough, but fuck, was Eren glad when Armin shivered and shifted and grabbed at a condom from the nightstand. He leaned back to unzip Eren's pants, yank them down his hips just enough. He ripped the condom open and rolled it over Eren's cock – fuck, Armin could make anything look sexy – and grabbed at the base to hold it steady as he lowered himself down with trembling thighs.

That gasp, there was that little gasp again, when the head of Eren's cock just pushed into him. Eren felt his eyes roll back into his head. He'd die for sure if Armin was going to make that noise every time; god, he hoped he would. Eren grabbed at the fabric of Armin's thigh highs, fingers dipping underneath the tops, to keep his hands from grabbing at Armin's hips to yank him down. Soon, soon enough, Armin's hips were nestled up against his again, Eren's dick in him to the root. Armin breathed out a shivering sigh and smoothed his gloved hands against the bare skin of Eren's stomach, drifting upward until he could grasp at Eren's shoulders. Armin's eyes fluttered shut as he gave a small, experimental roll of his hips, then another.

"Armin, kiss me," Eren sighed.

Armin's mouth met his, keeping them both quiet as Armin bounced in his lap, and Eren's death grip on Armin's thighs shifted to his hips and waist, fingers digging in and holding Armin there as Eren's hips stuttered and slammed into him. Armin's cock rubbed against his stomach, hot and hard and wet, and Eren released one hand to jerk him in time to their thrusts.

Eren knew he wouldn't last even a minute more; he could feel the pleasure spiking up his spine and shivering down his thighs. He gripped Armin's cock tighter, thumb rubbing over the glistening slit, and gave a sharp upward thrust. Armin gave a stuttering gasp against his neck and tightened up around his cock. His hand fumbled up to Eren's jaw.

"There, there again, please," he pleaded, barely above a whisper.

Eren couldn't hold it back any more, but tried to hit that sweet spot inside Armin again with every last, shaking thrust as he came himself dry. Armin kept riding him, kept fucking himself on Eren's cock and squeezing tight until he came into Eren's fist, muffling his voice against Eren's shoulder.

"Hey," Eren said, smoothing his hand into Armin's hair as Armin shifted to let Eren's cock slide out of him. "Come up here."

Armin murmured assent and crawled up to the pillows, letting Eren nuzzle underneath his chin and rest there. He set his lips against Armin's pulse point, feeling it calm and slow. Armin smoothed his hand through Eren's hair.

"Want me to give you your present now? It's a walking Yoshi plush. I made it myself."

Eren's eyes flew open. He got to nail Armin and got a Yoshi robot.

This was the best Valentine's Day ever.


In retrospect, it wasn't surprising that Eren and Armin awoke the next morning to find that Mikasa had made good on her pledge to dig a protective moat around Armin's house.

The surprising thing was the sharks. And that she, in the same night, had also managed a matching installation around Eren's house.