Mikasa was looking through her closet and pulled out the pale clothes, she held them out wide and realized how wrinkled they were. A little ironing would do the trick, she folded them back and turned.

"let me." Eren nearly snuck up behind her and her reflexes almost gutted him.

"No it's fine," she protested, but he took hold of the clothes and refused to let go. His face was determined and he had no intentions of letting go, if she was to use strength then the clothes would've torn.

"Wa, but why-" he had already left.

She stood there looking confused as ever. Her mind replayed back to all the other instances where she was simply left wondering what was going through his head. Was he trying to show care? He had been watching everything she did and offered to do it instead, he kept insisting she should just relax and leave it on him. She appreciated it, but it was going a tad overboard.

"Mikasa, drink more water. Here you go."

"I made this, eat it. "

"I will wash everything."

"I'm going to make your bed, go enjoy the weather or something."

"Mikasa, stop, I will tie your boot's laces."

She headed downstairs to where the ironing board was, she silently watched him do the task he had placed on himself. It was rather fascinating watching him devote all his passion in doing such a mundane task. She smiled to herself, however, it dwindled when she noticed how red his nose had gotten. He sneezed loudly and used the ironing board to support himself. Her eyes widened when she noticed the iron topping over, it was going to fall directly on his bare feet. In one swift she clutched the back of his shirt and pulled him back. The iron landed with a loud thud echoing around.

"Oh," he exclaimed as his face morphed from confused to thankful.

She was still holding onto the back of his shirt and couldn't help but notice how wide his back was now. His other sneeze pulled her out from where her thoughts were starting to lean.

"You're sick," she declared stepping in front of him.

"No, it's fine it's nothing," he insisted as he rubbed his nose.

His face had taken a red turn and she noticed how his eyes were starting to water. Rather concerned she stood a little on tip of her toes and placed her forehead against his. It was burning hot. Her actions caused his redness to take a sharper turn as his heart fluttered, then he felt a little disappointed upon realizing how she was just checking his temperature. He got excited about nothing, yet the soft vanilla scent of her filled his nose as she was were inches away. She withdrew back making him miss the closeness, as she tapped her finger on her cheek thinking about what to do next.

"You're sick, like really sick. The rain did a number on you it seems," she concluded facing him again and was greeted by his green eyes only on her. He looked a little drowsy, but the intensity of his gaze wasn't diminished.

"No, it's - "

"Either you stop protesting or I will pick you up and put you to bed," she levelled her serious voice, his mouth opened to make excuses but she cut him short. "I mean it."

He couldn't have said anything further to deter her decision. He knew very well she could simply - literally - throw him over her shoulder and bring him where she wanted. Yet he felt like a burden again, here she was once again being the one taking care of him. He did not deserve her kindness or care, he was an arsehole when she showed him before; now, at least he hoped he'd return some of it but it seems it was him who needed to be taken care of. Despite that, he followed her upstairs and laid on his mattress. She covered him with a blanket and brought a bowl with cold water and a cloth. It was dipped in the water and laid on his forehead.

She was sitting next to him watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, he had closed his eyes and remained still.

"Maybe another blanket would be better," she said mostly to herself. Before she could get up, he had taken hold of her hand and intertwined their fingers. She stopped and stared at their connected hands and turned to his face; still, eyes closed and barely any movement.

"Do you want to say something . . . ?" She tried to reason, his hand in hers felt so warm. She wasn't sure if it was due to his fever or in general he had warm hands.

"Let me take care of you, for once," his voice had gotten soft.

Her eyes brows arched. "I don't understand, weren't you past the jealousy thing."

The grip of his hand tightened and he opened his eyes partly. "Thats not it, I want to show my care for you. You always did and I only gave you a cold shoulder because I was an ungrateful arsehole." There was a lot of guilt he was confiding in her, he hated how all he could do was the bare minimum of apologizing and call it a day. If only he could show how he felt without so many hurdles to loop through.

It finally connected in her mind and her lips formed o. This was why he was constantly doing everything for her, he was overcompensating for his previous actions. She did find his intentions to be rather sweet, but she wasn't sure how to address this matter. She cared for him and it wasn't to get something back, yet it felt good having it acknowledged so bluntly.

"It wasn't a loan that you must give me back," she tried to phrase her thoughts. "Just don't exert yourself so much, I feel bad then."

She knew she could have said in kinder words but this really was the best she could collect her thoughts; she always found reasoning to be hard when it came to herself. Sighing a little she focused on their hands clasped together, warmer than before and increased her concern. She glanced over to his face and noticed sweat formulating. She gently withdrew her hand without much resistance from him and wiped his forehead with the cold water drenched cloth. His eyes were closed and she could hear his quiet breathing. She noticed strands of his long hair sticking to his cheek, she leaned over him and dragged his hair away.

She wasn't sure what came over her, but she cupped his cheek and could feel the burning fever. Her thumb softly caressed his skin and she found herself rather fixated on his face and everything else; his thin but soft lips, his hairline perfectly parted in between and his jaw sharply angled. He leaned his face further into her hand and a small smile peaked. His black hair was covering most of the pillow, in parts where the light fell she could see their brown undertones. She could hear the birds chirping outside and the inviting glow of the sun came through the window.

Was when the last time she actually looked at him?

She liked what she saw, though.

Authors note: Househusband Eren lets goooo xD Now that I think about it Eren literally has a hairstyle to accompany every version/personality. My fav is for sure hobo Eren, kawaii 'what am I to you, Mikasa?' Eren and Frieda long-haired Eren