Happy Eremika Week! I choose the prompt "First Time" for today :) This follows the previous chapter, Love If We Made It. I hope you like it! Also, huge thanks to maesde for leaving a comment! c:

The first time he kisses her, both of them shrouded by tall trees and foliage alike, it is unexpected.

It began with the simple choice: help Eren with sparring, or start the list of chores the Captain prepared. Between the two, she much rather preferred the former and was pleasantly surprised that he asked for her help at all. Before Captain Levi could find them, they had walked past the wall of pines just east of headquarters and into a clearing that they decided to use for sparing that late morning. Practicing close combat privately was easier for him apparently, as it minimized distractions and chances of accidentally colliding into and hurting the other pairs who were practicing. She understood in turn, willing to help him any way she could and thankful to be inhaling fresh air instead of pungent cleaning products.

Both of them hadn't been practicing for very long and she could already see just how much improvement he's made since the last time they did this. His swings and kicks are more precise now, and carried power that came from concentration rather than frustrated impulse. He used to get so upset when he couldn't land a single hit and it lapsed his judgment, making him sloppier. But now she's surprised by the amount of effort on her part to predict his movements, tells him she's proud of how far he's come since their cadet days.

"Thanks. Maybe one day I can be as good as you," he half-jokes, assuming his fighting stance again.

"You're already better than most people I've fought. But there's always room for improvement."

He considers that, dropping his hands. "Where do you think I need improvement?"

At his question, she also drops her arms, looking over him thoughtfully. "Maybe speed. More so when you're on offense. That was something I needed to work on back then. It just boils down to practice."

"How did you do it?"

"I held weights while practicing. Attaching some to my ankles helped too. Once you do that with weights and then without them, you'll see how much faster you get and how much lighter you'll feel."

He listens attentively, nodding. "I see. That might also help if I'm tossing my opponent over my shoulder, like you do. I've only done it a few times, but I usually almost end up straining something," he admits, cupping the back of his neck.

"Do you want to practice that next?"

He visibly tenses as he meets her eyes. "Practice… tossing? I, uh, I don't know."

Concerned, she frowns. "Why do you look worried?"

"Cause I don't know how to do that properly yet." The tip of his shoe nudges a couple of stones, flipping them. "I don't want you landing weird and injuring something."

"You won't hurt me."

She suddenly feels his gaze on her right cheek, and this time it's her who's gone stiff. "You don't know that."

"I do," she states as a matter of fact, turning away intentionally. "I'll show you step by step first, and then you can try, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she begins to shrug off her jacket and drops it to the side, facing him again and stepping closer as a way of insistence. Despite his obvious reluctance, he mimics her actions, tossing aside his jacket and wiping the sweat collecting at his hairline. She begins showing him a basic way of tossing an opponent, one that she's rarely used but works if the other person isn't very skilled in combat. From there they work on timing and even more complex methods, practicing each step slowly before she was positive that he's got them down at this pace.

"Okay, now you try it on me. Remember, you have to work fast so you don't end up shouldering your opponent's full weight."

He fists his hands and relaxes them, taking a breath. "I'll try my best."

She moves without warning, throwing lighter punches and kicks for him to block until he takes advantage of the opening she's giving to him. With his grip tight on her wrist, she's pulled forward with more strength than she expects and, caught off guard, is tossed to the ground before she can break her fall. A cross between a grunt and a cough breaks free from her and it takes quite a bit of convincing to assure him that she's fine, that he can try again. Though Eren gains a more confidence each round, what she didn't consider beforehand was the toll that it would take on her. After being flipped numerous times, she began to feel dizzy and nauseous, the sensation nearing an unbearable point but she decided to hold off saying something, mainly for his sake. That was until he had her on the ground again, pausing long enough to notice that something was off.

"Are you okay, Mikasa?"

She was sweating more than usual, hair sticking to her neck and different parts of her face and is a bit dismayed that she can't open her eyes right away. She puts her hand up to placate him.

"Yes… I just -" she drops the hand on his forearm without meaning to, sucking in air, "need a minute."

The next few moments are spent focusing on her breathing, leveling it out to ease her nausea. It isn't until she opens her eyes that she realizes he never moved from his place above her, and both simply stare, breaths audible yet slow and she's unsure of what to make of the look on his face. Until then it nears hers, his fingers gently pushing the strands sticking to her mouth aside, grazing her lips in the process. At the intimate touch, she becomes lightheaded again, the pain in her stomach quickly devolving into a flutter. He looks at her lips tentatively, his own forming an indecisive grimace and she watches him, captivated by curiosity and the strange tension between them. When the hand at the corner of her mouth moves to cup the base of her head and the ends of his hair starts tickling her skin, she doesn't doubt his intention, feels herself blushing brightly in comparison to the tinge of color on his face. But he makes a point to stop, looking at her questioningly and giving her the chance to pull away. In a clouded mix of attraction and anticipation, she squeezes his forearm in response and flicks her gaze from his eyes to his lips and back, noting how the color on his face spreads across the bridge of his nose.

"Mikasa," he murmurs, "close your eyes."

She does so, barely taking a second to wonder why, to remember how inexperienced and unprepared she is before his nose is flush against the apple of her cheek and he is kissing her in full. Her fingers curl around his forearm again and her eyes close tighter, Eren's lips on hers an odd yet pleasant sensation that makes her skin hotter and nerves frenzied. He sighs the syllables of her name against her mouth, parting for the briefest of seconds to lean on the arm beside her head and kiss her better. The whys and whats are lost to her, irrelevant, because like earlier, she can feel his confidence grow as well as her own with each gentle movement of lips and hands. She's almost embarrassed by the sounds they're making, but his nails lightly raking over her scalp causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps, her hand traveling up and over the muscle in his arm till her palm is at the bulging tendon on the side of his neck. She couldn't be any less aware of their surroundings, merely craving more of this kind of attention that she's wanted for a long time. And although the way he deepens his kiss tells her that she isn't alone in that feeling, reality had already found its way to reel them back in.

It's him who breaks the kiss when he hears something that her ears don't catch at first, both soon recognizing it as shouts of squad leaders and noises that could only belong to the maneuvering gear.

"Shit."

Their eyes meet and, in a slight panic, make a mutual decision. Eren stands to his full height, sheepish as he pulls her up and she immediately goes to smooth down her hair, walking over to retrieve her jacket and hating how much her hands are shaking. Talking to him about this proves to be daunting on her end, especially with how abrupt and somewhat awkward it had ended. Everything is burning - her lips, her face, her stomach and perhaps it's best to talk about it when she isn't as raw or embarrassed, but then he speaks up.

"Hey, um, thanks. For helping me today."

Tucking a tangled lock of hair behind her ear, she gives him the most genuine smile she can manage at the moment. "Of course."

After a stretch of silence, she thinks it okay to start walking back and he jogs to catch up and match her pace. Halfway back to headquarters, she senses his eyes on her and finds them shamelessly trained on her mouth when she faces him. A flicker of desire threatens to ignite a flame that's destined to consume her, and she struggles to keep her voice neutral and cool when she asks, "What is it?"

"Your lips," he starts, reaching over to swipe a rough thumb over her bottom one. "They're so soft."