Twelfth of December – Snowflakes
"To be clear on this," Levi says as Eren steps into the café the following day right before closing time. "You'd rather spend your evening with a senile bookkeeper than being at the farewell bash of your friend, who leaves in two days. To be away for another year."
"Uh, yeah," Eren says. Having admitted that out loud, it does sound a bit odd.
It's been some kind of unsaid rule in the Survey Corps that the official farewell celebrations take place two evenings before any expedition. In theory, it's supposed to insure that the soldiers aren't hungover on their big day. In Eren's days it often ended in additional private parties that never helped in practice. Most celebrations ended in two crapulent occasions in a row. Squad Levi has always been an exception. They all knew better than to drop that brick.
Given other circumstances, Eren would have participated tonight. Maybe he'll join them later while they are still at it. For now, however, nothing can keep him from coming here. He would long for this place if he stayed away, even during a party among his friends.
Armin understands. He rolled his eyes when Eren excused himself earlier, then told him to go before they'd have to suffer under his sulking all evening. They've spent the whole day together. Eren helped Armin with preparations before they took another afternoon walk afterwards. They will see each other again tomorrow again. So there's no reason why Eren shouldn't be here instead. He's never liked parties much at any rate. They always feel like a distraction from everything else demanding his attention.
Also, Levi doesn't like bookkeeping. He shouldn't have to endure it alone.
This night there's no paperwork for Eren to work on. Not only has he already finished everything on his table last Thursday, but of course Hanji hasn't given him any since then. Not to mention that if she discovered that Eren worked tonight, he'd never hear the end of it. Needless to say, Levi knows this too.
"And what will you be doing all evening?" he asks. Something like amusement ghosts around his lips, but he's doing a rather good job of biting it back. It doesn't fool Eren, though.
"I brought a book." He grins, holding it aloft.
Levi's eyes narrow in disbelief at the declaration. "Since when do you read?"
"I just felt like it?" Eren attempts, glancing at the slightly battered cover with fading ink. "Sasha said it's good. And you're not senile," he objects.
The twitch of an eyebrow is accompanied by another quirk of a reluctant smile, that Eren wishes to see more of. So much so, that he can't help but follow the impulse to cock his head and purse his lips, as though in thought.
Letting his gaze wander over Levi behind his brass counter—broad neck, white shirt, black apron—, Eren grins. "A codger, perhaps."
Levi snorts, shoving a plate of spongy chocolate cake over the counter. "Brat."
"Captain," he retorts with a lingering smirk. Basking in the subsequent glare that's somewhat undermined by sparkling eyes, Eren accepts his plate and moves to his seat.
He doesn't know why, but for the first time he truly is grateful for Hanji's work instructions. Maybe it's the fishing trip, or accepting what he wants and feels. Whatever it is, the awkward tension that has been occupying his shoulders and chest for longer than he can remember seems to be fading, if gradually.
Then again, maybe it's just him, he thinks as a cup of tea is put in front of him without comment. He smiles at the steam rising out of it in a lazy plume that reluctantly dissolves in the air upon a flowery scent. He's feeling better than he has since Shingashina fell. He feels more relaxed, and his head is clearer as well. He hasn't felt this way for too long. Never really. Not since his childhood anyway. There's always been something. A war. The war changing. More war. Being restless afterwards for too fucking long whilst attempting to escape from himself. He's never felt this at ease, and though there's still a long way to go, at least he's not running away anymore. Finally he's found his home.
It's not HQ. Not his quarters filled with nothing that matters much, except for an admittedly questionable drawing of a bird that resides in his kitchen. His two rooms feel cold and vacant when compared to where he visits each evening. It's not really this place either. It's all of it. It's Levi. It's his café and his apartment upstairs. His little oasis of calmness and comfort with all its flavours center on Levi's voice and presence, the grey eyes that Eren can't turn his gaze away from.
He digs his fork into the cake as a question flashes through his mind. Why does Levi feeds him with cake every evening?
Levi knows they will have dinner together later. On the other hand, feeding Eren is what Levi does. Even during their shared Survey Corps days, he made sure Eren had enough to eat; more than the other soldiers because of his demanding Titan metabolism and the straining experiments with Hanji. Levi always paid attention to every transformation which always took a toll on him.
Eren remembers too well the lectures he got whenever he fainted in the middle of a drill because of skipping lunch. First came a decisively calm one from a seething Levi. Then Eren faced a near-hysterical outburst from an agitated Hanji followed by a short, but insightful, lesson on dealing with Hanji's zeal by Moblit. The lectures continued with a tirade from Mikasa and Armin later that day. All of which was trumped by a snappy rant from Jean about how Eren wanted to not only kill himself in "all this fucking shit," but everybody else because they had to look after him like he was a brainless child. "Fucking suicidal bastard!" Eren had never been this furious and ashamed of himself.
The embarrassing memory is cast away by the first piece of pastry that seems to melt on his palate. Sighing in content at the savoury flavour, Eren takes his time finishing it to the last savoury crumb.
A cheerful "Goodbye Levi. See you soon, Eren," comes from the door, attracting his attention to a brisk wave and dark, crow's feet framed eyes meeting his.
"See you, Erika," he replies with a smile.
She covers her ash blond hair under her coat's hood, and after a tinkle of the bell her tall, wiry figure hurries past the window front towards HQ.
While Levi locks up the café one hour early, as with every Monday, Eren collects his plate and cup before he rises from his seat. Levi is still mopping the floor by the time the dishes are clean and back on their shelves, so Eren takes a washcloth without hesitation and begins to wipe the tables. When he receives nothing except a pointed sigh at his determination, Eren smiles to himself. It may be a small victory, but it feels like like a groundbreaking change.
He's wiping down the last table as the soft cloth in his hands is caught by a splinter of wood. Startled, he lets his finger run over the spot, only to find a small yet significant dent in the beautiful tabletop. His fingertips trail on, only to catch another one, and another. A multitude of them, scattered in an irregular, angry pattern of the size of his hand. He takes a breath to ask Levi about it, but Levi already answers.
"Vigga," he says, standing three steps away and glancing at the sight of destruction before meeting Eren's frown again. "She dropped half a bagel last spring and threw an impressive tantrum about it with a spoon. She's two," he adds at Eren's puzzled expression.
"Oh." Running his hand once more over the blemished surface, Eren frowns. It still doesn't feel right. "Why don't you grind it off?"
Levi folds his arms. "It's just a table. She'll decorate it with her drawings for a couple of years anyway."
The image of a small, pigtailed girl beaming at Levi over her art at this very table only yesterday flashes up in Eren's head, explaining why the name seemed familiar. The scene unfolds, morphing into memories of Levi asking questions at the multitude of blue, green, and red crayons, and the smile that spreads on Eren's face from deep within is filled with a tender fondness that folds around his heart.
Levi is right, of course. It's just a table.
"Bread and cheese for dinner?" Levi asks after a pause. He hasn't moved from his position as he regards Eren with a curious look.
Giving the table one final wipe with the cloth, Eren nods. "Yes."
Once fed with rye bread and goat curd, Levi starts with his numbers, whereas Eren settles down in the corduroy seat to read his book. This chair, he has to admit, is very nice too. No wonder Jean likes to sit in the ones downstairs when he draws in the café. It's not quite the same as the leather armchair, but it's comfy in a whole different way. It feels more like being steadied instead of receiving a soothing embrace. It smells like Levi too, only stronger because there's no characteristic scent like the leather mingling with it.
Snuggled into his new favourite chair, Eren reads. The words are accompanied by the rustling of paper and the sound of a pen scribbling notes. By Levi shifting on his chair. By the occasional rattle of a cup being lifted and placed down again. The flames to Eren's right flicker lively in the hearth, and before Eren knows it, he is drifting away into a sleep filled with warmth.
"Eren," Levi says.
Snapping awake, Eren glances up into a pair of grey eyes. Close. They are so close, and Eren has to swallow before he can answer.
"What?" he asks, his voice surprisingly steady.
"It's snowing." Gentle lips forming the words. Dark hair falling over a pale brow.
Eren blinks against the lingering drowsiness. "Mm?"
"Snow," Levi elaborates. "Want to go outside?"
Levi loves winter, Eren thinks. He loves the snow and how it swallows the the rush of the world until everything is hushed and quiet. Of course he'd want to look at it.
Eren nods, rubbing his eyes. "Okay. Let's go then."
They gather their boots, jackets and cloaks. As they step out of the café with the familiar tinkle of the bell, Eren can see it has been snowing for a while. A thin blanket of white covers everything so neatly, it's as though someone had taken a big sieve and sprinkled the world with powdery sugar like cake. It's beautiful. Eren smiles.
They begin to walk through the streets, two silent figures in green, minds in harmony but each drifting away in an own trail of thoughts.
They walk until the café is far behind them, reaching the outskirts of the town. The farmer's fields begin to stretch all the way to the horizon. It's all white now as well.
"It looks so different this way, doesn't it?" Levi asks, and Eren looks at him.
Yes, Levi truly does. Star-shaped, white snowflakes are gently resting on his hair, about to melt into glistening drops of water. His cheeks are pink with cold, his lips red and wet from numerous attempts to warm them between his teeth. All Eren can do is stop and stare.
He is stupid. So utterly, fucking stupid. He knows he is, but his heart is beating so fast while everything inside of him screams to fucking do something. So he takes that step and looks at those tasty lips.
Levi has gone quiet and still. When Eren looks into his eyes, they look back, and to his surprise they are warm, shining and inviting. Eren knows that all he has to do is bend down to take what he wants.
"Eren."
A whisper so close that the enticing warmth of Levi's breath fans over his face, their lips nearly touching. Oh, fuck, yes!
"Eren," louder now, almost a question.
There's a hand on his upper arm and the scent of Levi is everywhere, surrounding him. It's coming from a source very close to him and startlingly far away as well. Just like that the landscape and the snow are gone.
He is back in front of a fireplace, curled up in a comfortable chair.
"Eren."
He opens his eyes and blinks at the man standing in front of him, squeezing his arm. He looks beautiful in the firelight, and in his sleep-hazy mind all Eren can think of is that it is his man.
His Levi.
Then he snaps awake and jerks up in the seat. "Oh, shit…I mean…I'm sorry. I fell asleep." Something slides out of his hands, and it takes the soft thump of an object colliding with a padded seating cushion for Eren to remember Sasha's book.
"So I saw." A smile tugs at the corners of Levi's mouth. Eren has to look somewhere else as he grabs up and clutches the book against his aching chest.
The loss rips him apart from deep within. He thought he had Levi, right there in his arms, within reach. Only a heartbeat away.
Reality hurts.
"The question I had was," Levi continues. "Why are you kipping in my chair?"
Seizing the offered distraction, Eren looks down at the object in question and nods, hoping the movement will bring his mind back onto the right track.
"The leather one is yours too," he explains with a voice that sounds weak to his own ears.
"Fair point," Levi admits. "Would you mind moving your lazy arse over there for a game of chess?"
"Yes, actually," Eren manages, more insistent, because he so will not stand up right now. That's a very, very bad idea. "I would. I like it in here."
"Tch. As you wish." Levi sits down in his most favourite chair. His prior smirk is gone, overcast by an almost apprehensive frown. It deepens with a small tug of his lips, as if he was searching for words, yet he remains silent, and Eren clears his throat.
Stuffing the book next to him onto the seat cushion, Eren stretches his back and arms to force the last traces of the dream out of his head into the nothingness where it belongs. It's bad enough to have such fantasies at night in his own bed, but here? It is definitely the wrong place to indulge them.
While Levi props the chessboard up on the coffee table, Eren opens the wooden box with the pieces so they can begin setting up. As if the chairs would determine which side is set up by whom, Eren reaches for the black pieces without further thought.
It earns himself another estimating glance from Levi. "You're in a rebellious mood today," he observes.
"A free Monday does that to you, I suppose," Eren mumbles, pulling at his hair band to let his strands conceal a set of earlobes that feel as if they're burning.
Levi hums. "So it seems." There's a brief, tense pause before he speaks on. "What have you been doing with your free time?"
Grateful for the harmless question, Eren summons a mild smile. He promised himself to not make Levi uncomfortable, and he won't. "Helping Armin."
"Isn't that working?" Levi darts a lifted brow at him alongside a trace of gleaming mirth in his eyes.
"No," Eren insists, aware of the fact that he's being stubborn, yet he won't let himself get chided for this. "It's helping. That's why it's called 'help' and not 'work'."
Levi snorts, redirecting his attention to the chessboard. The nearby fire crackles, sending cheerful sparks into the hearth, and casting warm shadows on a faint, lingering smile.
Finally arrived back in reality to the fullest, Eren remembers how he ended up in this chair to begin with. "How late is it?" he asks, pushing a black knight into its rightful place and waiting for Levi to reach for a tower in the shrinking pile of figurines before fetching the black king. It's unusual for them to have a game of Monday chess, but even more so to have two in a row.
"Not too late," Levi says. His voice is calm, his posture relaxed, soothing the last traces of Eren's irritation.
"The numbers were good to you, then?" he surmises, lifted by Levi's easy smile.
"They were. I made fresh tea if you want some."
Tea sounds fantastic. "Yes, please."
While Levi fills him a cup, Eren takes two pawns from each side of the chessboard and hides them in his hands, trying not to think too much of white snowflakes glistening on black hair.
"Left or right?"