"Hold on," Historia held my arm as she kept me in the car.

She brought the sun visor down and pulled her purse into her lap. She dug around in there and fished out different bobbles of things and began to apply it to her face. For the fifth time.

"You look great," I promised, patting her knee, but she gave me a glance that told me to be quiet and let her gussy up in peace.

"It won't matter, really," I chuckled and she pouted as she touched up her blush, "you're pretty no matter what. And, remember, I've held your hair up when you were throwing up a lung."

The edge of her lips tilted upwards.

"Shush," she lightly scolded despite the grin that was on her face.

"C'mon, let's just go. It's only a short visit." I opened my car door and she huffed, snapping the compact mirror close—how many mirrors did she really need?—and nodded.

"Fine…yeah…I just want to be…presentable."

"Squeaker, you look great," I assured and slid out of the car, closing it.

Historia lingered a little longer inside and came out, smoothing her skirt down.

"I'm just nervous."

"I know," I went around the car and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, "I am, too."

I wasn't just saying it to make her feel better either.

"I know," she lightly teased, wiggling her fingers in my grasp, "your hands are sweaty."

I snorted, swinging our arms as we went inside.

I felt my throat constrict a little, remembering how it was these days—Ilse was back to being reticent except when Armin was around.

I was beginning to think she had a crush on him by the way she admired how he studied and told her about what he was learning.

Those two were big, fat nerds, but one of them was already taken and I didn't have the heart to tell. And I didn't know if Armin knew how my sister looked at him.

The bell over the door rang and Armin peered up from his thick university book.

"Oh, back again—oh! And you brought Historia!" At seeing my girlfriend, he shot up, putting his book down and excitedly bringing over the sign-in sheet.

"Hey," Historia nervously smiled, taking the clipboard and writing down her name. She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, glimpsing up at me, waiting for me to break the ice or do something to make it a little easier.

"Yeah, I figured Ilse would be super excited to meet someone I've been meaning to bring here," it was hard to say it.

It wasn't that I didn't want Historia here, but mostly because nobody else ever came here with me.

Sasha knew better than to barge in and accompany me. And everyone else—except Armin, too— didn't know besides her.

Well, Historia did now—she was going to be the first person to come in.

"She will! She has been asking about her ever since I said I met her." He grinned.

Oh, that stupid boy.

Ilse was probably just asking any question to keep his attention on her.

"Alright, let me check you guys in," Armin went to the computer, speedily clacking away until he stamped the enter button and gave us a nod.

He went around, giving us clearance into the visitor's area.

"She's in her usual spot. She should be pretty talkative," Armin assured as we passed through.

I stopped the moment we went through the doors, taking a deep breath.

"We'll be okay," Historia mustered but I could tell she was just as nervous.

I exhaled, feeling my shoulders fall and I put on the most casual smile I could as I brought us forward and into the room.

Ilse was staring over at us, curious.

I felt relief wash over me—she wasn't catatonic.

Immediately, her face went red as she glanced at the window and smoothed down her hair.

"Hey," I greeted her, pulling up a spare chair for Historia, "thought I'd bring my girlfriend over like I promised."

"Y-You didn't warn me!" She chuckled with embarrassment, probably regretting she didn't spend more time getting ready.

"Surprise," Historia laughed a little, smiling warmly at her.

"Um—"

"Ilse, this is Historia," I intervened, introducing her, "Historia, my little sister Ilse."

"Charmed," Historia eyed Ilse for a bit before glancing up at me, "you didn't tell me she was the pretty one."

"Oh, well, she's—hey!" It dawned on me and I heard Ilse sputter and start laughing, flustered and hiding her face.

"Oh, and a cute laugh," Historia was teasing her and I could tell Ilse found it refreshing. Sasha used to always lightly grill her.

"S-stop," Ilse cried out, hiding her face as she gave a crooked smile, too shy.

"Don't tell her that," I snorted, "you'll only encourage her—Historia can smell fear from a mile away."

"Sh, you," Historia nudged me, "I'm getting to know your sister! You might have to watch out, though—she might steal me away with those pretty eyes of her."

Ilse never ceased to amaze me at how red she kept turning and choking on her own words, hiding herself but laughing.

It was the first time I saw her so bashful and silly in a long time.

"Y-Y-You're horrible," Ilse laughed, "b-but very pretty, too."

"Oh, swoon! Be still my heart!" Historia smiled, leaning into me as I wrapped my arm around her.

"Ilse, are you hitting on my girl?"

"N—m-maybe," she laughed, easing into the playful mood.

I lightly squeezed Historia's shoulder, quietly thanking her for being able to open my sister up again.

It made me feel at peace—happy and content—to have both my sister and my girlfriend talking and smiling and laughing…

It was the best feeling in the world.

-x-x-x-

"Jesus Christ," I growled, adjusting the collar of my dress shirt, "I feel like you yesterday—having to live by the mirror and shit."

It felt like our first date, too, when I couldn't tell whether or not I appeared presentable enough. This time, though, Sasha didn't come in to practically fondle me.

Historia was by the sink, formal and sweet. She had already prettied herself up earlier.

"It's amazing how long you're taking," Historia teased, "you didn't even put on make-up yet you took longer than me."

"Well, y'know, you weren't the one meeting the all and powerful and rich father, either." I glared at myself in the mirror, finding it helpless.

Not once in my entire life did I ever have to wear formal clothes. The movies made it seem so easy—just throw on a tuxedo and dress, put hair up in bun or let it loose and boom! Done!

Instead, I felt like I was a half-dead gutter rat thrown into a dress shirt and slacks as a joke.

"Hm, well," Historia came up behind me, adjusting my collar just right and buttoning up my sleeves to reveal my forearms.

"I can always put make-up on you? Also, I think you can let your hair down a bit, too," she murmured, lightly touching the hair piece.

"I don't know," I slumped, "but do whatever. I just want to show your father I'm not some orphan you adopted off the street."

Historia laughed, taking the clip off and fluffing up my hair a little.

"I will make you look like a princess." She joked and I puffed up my cheeks to earn some more giggles out of her.

"Make me look like Pocahontas." I demanded as I grabbed the stool nearby and sat down on it for Historia's sake.

"I can try," she rolled her eyes, smiling and grabbing some sort of container of liquid. She squirted it into her hands and began to apply it to my hair.

"I will give you that New World vibe," she sassily remarked like she was a gay stylist.

I snorted and about shook my head, but she held it in place.

"Now, stay still and let me the work." She sternly said, grinning more.

And I swore I felt my heart throb at her saying that.

It made me all too aware of the lack of intimacy between us and how much I craved to bridge that gap.

.

.

.

"Oh!" Rod was surprised when I took his hand, shaking it firmly.

"What a firm grip," he chuckled, staring up at me, "I didn't expect her to be, well—"

"So dashing?" Historia finished, making it a bit easier for me to smile.

"Sorry."

Wait. I shouldn—

"Oh, nothing to apologize for, dear!" Rod smiled, pulling out my chair as Historia sat between us.

"You're built to last!" He complimented as I sat down, thanking him as he went to his seat and applied his napkin-bib-thing.

Oh, wow, that was a lot of forks and knives and two spoons. Okay, well, I at least knew the spoons were for liquids. Hopefully.

Historia didn't even have to look at me and know my confusion as she moved all the extra utinsels away from herself, picking up a fork, spoon, and knife from the pile.

Rod appeared amused and glanced at her.

"Did you forget your etiquette?" He asked, humored.

"Not at all, daddy." She shook her head.

"I just prefer to eat with what is necessary." She glanced at me.

"What about you—do you feel like being fancy?" She was covering my ass as I gave her a lopsided grin.

"Not really," I did the same and grabbed whatever fork and knife suited me.

The servant came back around, noticing the neglected silverware and picking them up and taking them away with the promise of returning with our drinks.

I glanced around the place and found it almost devoid of people despite being one of the only formal hot spots in Spokane.

However, Historia and Rod didn't seem to notice or care.

They began to chat about markets or whatever. I couldn't keep up or understand even if I wanted to. Instead, I snatched a small leather-bound menu—Jesus, no expenses wasted, huh?—and was met with… foreign words that I could only assume was French.

Goddamn fancy people and having to goddamn tote their boats and the—

"Ah! Hungry, are we? Forgive me for stalling us," Rod caught me off guard as he picked up his own, taking out his reading glasses and humming, "well, I think a lunch combination would be delightful for myself. And you?"

"Hm. Ymir, you like salmon, right?" Historia asked, taking my menu from me and placing it off to the side.

Oh, was she going to just order for me?

I smiled.

"Your control freak side is showing," I teased and she softly scolded me as her father snickered.

"Two Saumon Fumé." She told her father as he nodded, pleased.

The server came back with our water and took the appetizers and left.

Never really had a restaurant stick to a specific order of what food you could get…

But it was kind of pointless to try and amuse myself over how different Historia and I grew up, because I was nervous as fuck. My leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down under the table. It got so bad that I felt Historia settle her hand on my thigh and gently hold it, trying to ease its restlessness.

I ceased and turned towards her, seeing her smiling at me.

This did not go unnoticed by Rod.

"I can just see it in your eyes," he sighed, pleased, "you two love each other so very much."

He rested his chin on the bridge of his hands.

"You two are so very lovely," he complimented, earning a positive reaction out of Historia.

"Ah, but, I do not mean to be rude," I tensed up, wondering what he was going to say—was he really going to ask Historia about getting the surgery?

I didn't want to be grilled about my sexuality, either.

"What kind of heritage do you come from, Ymir? You are such defined features."

Oh.

That was a relief.

Historia hissed at her father.

"Daddy, be polite," she grumbled, embarrassed at his behavior, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to. Old white men wondering why you were so dark was just a normal, easy stroll in the dark.

"Native American, sir."

Rod snorted at my answer, waving it off.

"Just call me Rod, or daddy if you please," he huffed, playfully hurt by my formalness.

My eyebrow twitched.

Daddy.

Call him—I glanced at Historia and she was withholding a giggle, knowing very well that I wasn't about to kink her father.

"Alright, Rod," I felt myself ease.

He was such a ham of a man with his rosy cheeks and blue eyes under a strong brow. The way his eyes would crinkle with his smile—he was the stereotype of a portly, proud man.

"Native American culture is so rich and observant of nature and its rights, hm?" He asked, taking out a cigar and gingerly rolling it between his fingers.

I guess despite the Reiss' being so rich they still couldn't break laws.

"I suppose so," I responded because we weren't here to talk about my culture. Plus, it wasn't like he'd fully understand it in one conversation.

"Hm." He exhaled, stuffing the cigar back in its golden case as he examined us further.

"So," he cleared his throat, grabbing the wine he was given, "I understand you're courting my daughter, is that correct?"

Ah.

Historia's jaw visibly clenched at his straightforwardness.

"Well, yes, s—Rod…"

"Very good, very good…"

"…Daddy," Historia warned, because she didn't want to go through it right now. And neither did I.

"Ah, don't scold me," Rod leaned back in his chair, pouting like a child, "I understand you like your privacy and you have your own choices… I only worry as your father… can't a father worry about his child's wellbeing?"

I could tell, too, though, that he was sincere in his worry, but it did nothing to quell the annoyance Historia had for it.

"I can take care of myself… if I need your help or advice, I will ask." Historia cut him short on the spot, surprising him.

It made me feel…very fucking awkward to be caught in between. It was times like these I was small enough to slump down in my chair and disappear, but all I could do was play with the fork I set aside for myself.

"Well…I was—hm. Kri—hah… I think this is the first time you ever talked back to me like that," Rod nursed his bottom lip in thought. His mustache twitched left to right as he digested how Historia cut the topic off.

"Well, y'know… I'm always here, too, Historia," he assured, "and, while it hurts me that you don't wish for my help… I'm also quite proud to see you stand up for what you believe in, too. Very proud… I know my little girl won't be bullied anymore, will I?"

I didn't know what I was witnessing, but I did know it had meant something to Historia because her hand on my thigh reached out and took my own.

"…I can take care of myself, too, daddy, just you watch," she smiled, leaning over the table and taking his large, wrinkly hands into her own, "I'm no longer a child… at least not as much."

"Oh, oh, oh," he chuckled, encasing her small hand into his own, patting, "you will always be my little girl…"

I strained a smile, uncertain as to what I should do.

"You make your old man very proud…"

I could only smile when they both glanced at me, expectantly.

"Um, me too—uh, pretty excited for that…sumo fo-mee?"

And I did nothing better but make a fool out of myself when they laughed at my shitty attempt at French.

Go figure.