June
The first time, Levi wasn't sure what to make of it at all.
It was nine-thirty in the evening; the day had been even longer and more gruelling than usual, in part due to the summer heat (the summer days also meant more daylight, which meant more training hours), and he'd just sat down and poured out his perfectly brewed cup of tea when a knock at his office door disturbed him. He almost growled. When she humbly entered a moment later with averted eyes, he was unmoving, a still image with his mouth concealed behind his teacup, but his mind raced at a rate of knots in search of any words.
Before he could commit to any one sentence however, she mutely sat in the opposite chair, picked up her pen and began filling out an empty form from his 'to do' stack of paperwork.
…huh.
For some minutes he just watched her, sipping his tea, but she didn't so much as flick her eyes towards him. He delicately set the empty teacup back on its saucer and leant his chin on his hand, eyes lit with curiosity, but she remained undisturbed, working diligently.
Strange.
He inhaled deeply, removing his hand from his chin.
"Did I ask for your assistance this evening?"
Her scrawling slowed to a stop, but she didn't look up.
"No, Captain."
"Then, why are you here?"
Her pen began scratching at the paper once more.
"It's Tuesday sir."
"Is it?" He asked dryly.
The pen stopped again. He waited. Still she didn't look at him.
Levi was going to get an answer.
"And what is, 'Tuesday'?" He needled.
He could see the cogs turning in her mind. Steadily, she replaced her pen to the ink pot and it clinked gently.
"It's the day after Monday, sir."
He couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising. With her appearance the way it was, it could be remarkably easy to forget her bravery.
"I hope I'm not overstepping the mark sir, but I noticed that you're behind on your paperwork. I thought you could use the help."
His eyes narrowed, and yet she was undeterred. She'd met his gaze, the fire of challenge burning within, then swiftly picked up the pen and continued working, as though nothing untoward had occurred.
She was entirely overstepping the mark, and completely unflinching about it. That expression of unbridled tenacity she had when she took down a target. She wasn't going to back down. It was fascinating, infuriating and he was hesitant to admit…a little erotic. For a minute or so his pride and his rational mind debated one another. It would take the pressure off him if she stayed, but, could he really turn a blind eye to this?
"Insubordinate."
"Hardly, Captain." She replied smoothly and instantly.
He blinked.
"If you want me to leave sir, all you need to do is ask."
Courage looked so good on her. His throat had dried out. She spoke to him like she was his equal, as if he didn't greatly outrank her.
"So…shall I, Captain?"
There was no way he could let this slide and maintain his dignity. That he wanted her to stay was neither here nor there at this point.
"Go."
With calm immediacy she returned her pen to the ink pot and stood. She gave a resolved nod and, tucking her chair under the desk, exited without another word.
"Tch."
He couldn't work out if he was more angry or turned on. Neither were good.
The second time was later that same week. Erwin was stood opposite Levi's desk briefing him on the new blade boxes, which had been re-designed to be a whole twenty percent lighter than before. The Special Operations Squad were to trial them in training first, to make sure they were still sturdy enough for the most extreme movements the scouts had to undertake. If they were able to train without any hiccups, the new design would be deployed throughout the regiment as the standard.
Again though, at nine-thirty PM exactly, a light knock graced the door. Erwin looked a touch startled turning over his shoulder as Petra slipped in, head bowed.
Levi opened his mouth, but Erwin got there first,
"Ah, Petra." He flashed his charming smile, that knowing one with just enough courtesy that he couldn't be accused of anything, "Assisting Captain Levi with his paperwork again I see? Good of you."
Levi's nose wrinkled in distaste. Erwin was always ahead of the damn game.
"Yes sir." Petra saluted.
"Petra, your help won't be required. Dismissed." Levi stated blankly.
Petra nodded, hand already on the brass doorknob to leave but was stopped by Erwin's voice.
"Hold your horses Petra." Erwin held out a hand towards her to stop her, but his eyes never left Levi's scowling face, "Don't be rash Levi. In the coming days you'll have several evaluation reports to fill out regarding testing these new blade boxes, on top of your regular work, which I need not mention again, is already overdue. It seems to me you might greatly benefit from the help."
Levi's cheek twitched as the two men entered a fierce stare-off lasting over a whole minute.
Levi's eyes narrowed.
Erwin's eyes narrowed.
Petra was frozen in place for the duration, hand still clasped around the doorknob, eyes flicking between them.
She opened her mouth, "I-"
"Go Pet." Levi announced.
His heart stopped.
"-Tra." He tacked on, but Erwin's wily smile had already comfortably unfurled across his face.
Levi remained a blank mask, but his blood raced about the network of his veins punching him in every vital organ and he battled not to react to his own idiotic slip up.
Petra's eyes looked twice their size and she was again vacillating between the two men. She swallowed, giving Levi a nod and twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open-
"Stay Ms Ral." Erwin commanded, "That's an order."
Petra slowly closed the door again.
"Thank you. Well then. Now that's settled I'll leave these with you." Erwin placed some of the new evaluation forms on Levi's desk. "I trust you'll have the overdue work with me by tomorrow, now that you have another pair of hands."
"Whatever you say, sir." Levi bit back sourly, scowling into a corner.
Erwin merely looked on with contentment as he gestured for Petra to take her seat across from Levi, and she gingerly complied.
"I wish you both a pleasant evening."
And with a final affirming nod and artful glance, Erwin left, closing the door into an unpleasant, penetrating silence.
Levi was humiliated that Erwin had pulled rank, and humiliated by his own slip of the tongue. He still wasn't entirely sure how it happened, wasn't like he ever called her that before…
A moronic oversight; he'd let himself be caught off-guard by the unexpected stand-off between Erwin and himself. Though he prayed that she hadn't noticed the error, or at the very least, that she realised that that was all it was, an error, quickly corrected, a nothing.
He grit his teeth. A cocktail of embarrassment and bad humour was festering inside him, and there was no way he wasn't going to be an asshole, not unless he kept his mouth shut.
Though he was still glaring lividly into the corner, from his peripheral vision he could see guilt imprinted onto her features, and she had been sat, completely unmoving for some time. Waiting for his instruction, most likely. She wasn't foolish enough to return to her combative attitude of earlier in the week after Erwin's contribution this evening. When she did muster the will to speak, her voice was timid.
"I'm sorry that-"
But he silenced her with an indignant look.
After three hours and forty-five minutes exactly, every second of which was spent in almost deathly silence, Petra completed her work. The reasonable part of him was grateful, he'd almost completely caught up what was overdue, but he'd be damned if showed it. She stood, neatening her stack of completed documents, and placed it on top of his filing pile. Then, with a curt nod to him, she replaced her chair under the desk, and left. For a further twenty minutes, Levi stared at the door.
The next day at drills, it went unmentioned.
The third time he began to wonder if he was stuck in a strange time loop. Again the light knock at the door at nine-thirty PM. Again the slight creak as it opened slowly, and again she entered, her head down, averting her eyes.
"Petra." He stood abruptly from his chair and skewered her with his eyes, "What are you doing?"
Her gaze burned back into his.
"Well?" He pushed, "Why are you here?"
"Because you refuse to ask for help sir."
He blinked, stumped. She wasn't wrong, but-
"You're tired Captain, and when you're tired you can't work as well, and you can't train us as hard. You care about efficiency and diligence more than anyone, it should concern you."
"What concerns me is your blatant disregard for the direct orders of your superior officer."
"I mean no disrespect sir, but please, answer me honestly; would you be finished faster with my assistance?"
"It's not up for debate. Return to the barracks. Now."
Purpose was scorching through her, she almost looked ablaze. She marched forward to the desk, and set her left elbow on the wood; forearm vertical and hand outstretched in wait, she stared at him with burning urgency.
"Petra-"
"You said it wasn't up for debate sir. Since you're a man of action, I wondered if it was up for a challenge instead."
He glanced down at her fanned out fingers, rooted in position, awaiting their match.
This was dumb. He wanted her to stay. In every conceivable way it was better that she did; that he took the help he needed. It was his own damn pride that was screwing this up, and for what? There was no real reason that…
Of course there was. Fear.
He was scared that the more time he spent alone with her, the harder it would be to stop himself from getting too close - and he was already failing at it spectacularly, at least by his own standards. All it meant was greater pain when she was ripped away. It was hard enough seeing her everyday and swatting away his absurd fantasies and what if's.
"Tch."
"One simple arm wrestle Captain."
He cast his gaze to the side.
"If I may sir…rather like you, right now I'm in need of a hand."
He looked back at her for a long moment.
"Terms?"
A gleeful smile stretched across her lips,
"Well sir; if I win, then I don't have to assist you with your paperwork."
July
The first time was so minor that it was only in hindsight that Oruo considered it in any way significant.
He still wasn't really sure what any of it meant, but nonetheless, he'd noticed.
As an elite squad, they often had elite duties outside of their regular drills and assignments - that day's elite duty? Scrubbing the entire mess hall from top to bottom. Sure, there were those soldiers who said it was better to have free time to visit family, go fishing in the stream, or to the market or the library or pub…but what those soldiers failed to realise was that it was a privilege to clean the mess hall, an honour only entrusted to those most capable and most impressive. Why waste your time laughing with friends in the tavern when you could be scrubbing floors on your hands and knees at the beck and call of Humanity's Strongest, Cleanest soldier? Without pain there was no gain, and Oruo wore his chores with pride as a symbol of his personal achievement in climbing the ranks.
Having said that however, when Captain Levi took Petra's shabby, fraying old wash-rag from her hand and gave it to him, while procuring a brand new sponge from supposed thin air to give to her, Oruo was a little miffed. She wasn't that much better at cleaning than the rest of them, was she? And if she was, then she could use the gross old rag, she'd be better with it; the Captain should give the nice new cleaning implements to those who found it harder, that surely made sense.
It was only then that he began to pick up on the tone of Captain's voice, which seemed to be consistently softer when he was talking to Petra than the other three of them.
He barked orders at the men left and right, and made sneering underhand comments disparaging their efforts, but with Petra he did nothing of the sort, offering only mild instruction and guidance in a voice that was almost tender, and so quiet that often Oruo struggled to make out what he was saying to her at all.
Oruo was almost completely certain it wasn't paranoia. Perhaps the Captain just had a soft spot for girls…but then, why hadn't he seen it before? Something in the man's attitude towards her had definitely shifted.
The second time, it was beyond the wall.
Bloodshot blue eyes, wide, square teeth and the stinking breath of the beast along with the suffocating pressure on all sides of his torso played on a terrifying loop through Oruo's brain at destabilising speed; then, at the end of it all, the spinning shadow of the Captain cutting death down in its colossal tracks, a god of destruction.
He was the perfect soldier. And now, Oruo owed him his life.
Oruo sniffled, his weakened legs shaking, for the horror hadn't ended there; that would have been far too easy on him. Following on from his flailing dance with death was the gruesomest scene he'd ever seen, burned into his mind with such shocking clarity he could see it colour for colour even now. Ilse Langnar, or, the headless corpse that once was Ilse Langnar, sat in the hollow of a tree, like some fucked up throne, blood crusted into her cloak and shirt.
He couldn't think of any of it without a full body-jolting shiver and the ghost of the titan's grip claiming him. Later back at the barracks he'd written a letter to his little sister Erika, asking for more information on what the occult made of headless corpses and hollowed-out trees, and for her opinion on those omens. He didn't believe in all that crap, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
In light of the mission's horrifying events it was a miracle he'd spotted any shift in Captain Levi's behaviour at all, but still, a tiny voice nudged him to pay attention as the man's tone again considerably softened as he addressed Petra, and then requested a change to their regular riding formation, placing Petra front left by his side; Oruo's usual spot for long distance journeys.
"She's been the Captain's favourite since she joined man. Haven't you noticed it before?" Eld muttered, not giving Oruo's complaint a second thought as they readied themselves for the journey back.
"Yeah." Gunther echoed, "As far as I'm aware she's the only one of us that didn't have to go through that gruelling day of 'extra' training."
The three men shuddered, remembering the horrendous intensity of what they each thought was a one on one combat session with the Captain, only to find out that it was a one on one cleaning session with the Captain to 'beat out every bad habit'.
After a minute Eld broke the silence;
"She's pretty fast on horseback anyway, she'll be good at relaying messages."
"But that was my spot - I fire the flares, I relay the messages."
"You can fire flares from any point in the formation." Gunther said dismissively, mounting his horse.
"Right, it's not a big deal." Eld commented, reattaching his blade boxes, "Besides, I'll bet he just changed it because he assumed you'd be riding back with the medical carts."
Pfft.
Sure, his whole body ached with bruising from being crushed in a giant fist, and sure, he was shaky on his feet, struggling not to constantly whimper in response to his ordeal, but no fucking way in hell was Oruo Bozad being relegated to the fucking medical carts. Until he was down and out completely, Oruo was an elite soldier and he travelled with his elite squad.
The third time, it was only a day or so after the return from the expedition.
Personally, Oruo'd had to come to terms with his fuck up. He'd been too reckless, and he'd allowed himself to be distracted while he was dispatching the target. A rookie mistake.
Captain Levi would never have done something so stupid. And Captain Levi was a flawless soldier.
Even more importantly, he'd cost the research squad a valuable specimen for study - he'd cost humanity a valuable specimen for study…and his life was a small price to pay when weighed up against the whole of humanity. He'd made up his mind - he was going to apologise to the Section Commander when the opportunity presented itself.
It was a Sunday, and Oruo'd announced to the full common room that he was heading to Trost to pick up some bits and pieces for their barracks and send his letter to Erika, when Petra leapt up from the couch and asked him to wait up, as there were a few things she wanted to get from Trost too. Neither of them banked on the Captain silently joining them.
What followed was a long, near silent ride over, where a stunned Petra and Oruo intermittently glanced at one another, wondering what to say regarding the development, if anything. It was far more usual for the Captain to give them a (very specific) list of things to buy, he certainly never joined the squad on their outings.
Once they reached Trost the atmosphere remained strange, with the Captain largely following on mutely behind them, hands in pockets as they made light conversation and discussed the stalls they needed to visit - that was until they passed by Henkelman's Cleaning & Hygiene Supplies, and were abruptly dragged off course.
Oruo watched from the under the white awning with a sack of goods over his shoulders as Petra and the Captain browsed various items, the Captain at one point going so far as to ask her opinion of a broom he'd found, to which she gave a startled blink and suggested a different model that she thought seemed sturdier. He gave a thoughtful nod and picked it up to examine it.
Oruo began to wonder the point at which the Captain had begun asking anyone's opinion on anything, but before he could think further over it, Section Commander Hange serendipitously passed by outside the shop, and he was overcome with the compulsion to follow them and apologise for his recent errors.
It was only when they'd all returned to the barracks that evening, and he unpacked the broom that he'd been made to carry the whole day - the very broom that Captain Levi bought on Petra's recommendation - that Oruo remembered the strangeness of the events at all.
August
The first time, Eld noticed it but Gunther didn't right away.
Eld kicked him under the table, and Petra's eyes were so wide that Eld thought he could see their entire common room reflected in them, in the very centre of that reflection, a small ruffled square: the new cravat.
Gunther, who was trying to read the morning paper scowled at Eld;
"What?"
Eld mimed at him to shut up, and tilted his head towards the kitchenette, where the wearer of the new cravat was pouring out his morning coffee. Gunther dropped the paper.
It took Oruo several moments to pick up on the rest of the squad's staring.
"What's the matter? You all look constipated." Oruo announced, moving to pick up the small milk jug and stopping, instead tapping his teaspoon firmly on the rim of the cup with a swagger that tried to sell the pointless action.
Petra's frown line deepened, "No milk this morning Oruo?"
Eld tried not to smirk at her accusatory tone. Oruo always had milk.
Oruo scoffed, "Milk? Me? Never. Always hated it. Ruins the taste of a perfectly decent cup of coffee."
"Is that right." Gunther mumbled skeptically.
"Indeed so." Oruo replied, then, the three pairs of curious eyes watched, astounded, as the man placed the fingers of his left hand around the rim of the coffee cup, and began lifting it towards his face. His hand was shaking, fingertips clearly unused to such an action, he ended up bringing his head down towards the cup and then was in a kind of hunched position, from which he took a hesitant sip of his drink and instantly sprayed a disgusted mouthful back out.
Eld snort-laughed as Oruo irately put the cup back on its saucer.
"It was too hot ok?!" He barked.
"You're sure about that?" Petra offered dubiously,
"I doubt it was too hot man, it's been sat out for a while." Eld added.
The redhead continued, "If you want milk in your coffee, just put milk in it."
Oruo grumbled, pouring the rest of the cup down the sink, and immediately began scrubbing it.
As they assembled in line at the athletics circuit that morning, the Captain's gaze lingered on Oruo a second longer than normal, and his brow twitched.
The second time, Section Commander Hange saw it too.
The squad were stationed in pairs guarding each tent of the newly captured titans Chicachironi and Alberto. As the most elite team, they were to be sharing round-the-clock watch with Squad Mike until a routine of testing had been established from Squad Hange, and a baseline safety of the titan's bindings was proven. Once the Commander was happy that the new specimens weren't going to spontaneously break free of their bonds, watch duty would be shared between all the active squads.
For now though, Eld was stood opposite Oruo outside Alberto's tent, and couldn't stop his eyes from flicking down to the ostentatious new neckpiece.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to stare?" Oruo blustered.
Eld rolled his eyes.
Moments later, a high pitched scream rattled through the canvas, and the Section Commander scampered out of the tent in a twist of escalating energy not dissimilar to a tornado, grabbing Oruo's lapels and lifting him off the ground with a screech,
"Hallelujah! Praise the Goddesses! Alberto can see again! For a moment there I was certain all was lost - I thought I'd blinded the poor thing - But he lives to see another da-"
Oruo had unsurprisingly bitten his tongue and his head was lolling about his shoulders in a daze; something which frequently happened to him when he had an encounter with the scientist.
"Oruo?" Their face twisted curiously and they leant in to the man's neck, blinking owlishly at the new square of fabric, "A hand me down is it? Was Captain Levi throwing out some of his old ascots?"
Oruo whimpered.
"Aha!" Hange gasped, realisation dawning over their face; "Now I see…you're doing your homework." They winked, letting go of his lapels, and Oruo dropped to the floor in a heap.
They put their hand on their chin, "Well, don't let me derail your important research - I know first hand how frustrating it can be when-"
"Section Commander!" Nifa exclaimed, racing from the opposite tent, "You need to see this!"
As quickly and chaotically as they'd appeared, they vanished, their excitement exploding its way through the other tent.
Eld scratched his head, "…research?"
But Oruo simply blubbed meaningless noises from his stupefied mound on the floor.
The third time, it was hot out, the scorching sun mocking the Military funeral service with its incessant brightness.
Didn't the clouds have the decency to rain, to cry for those lost? Did it really have to seem so cheerful out?
Eld squinted into the sky, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's intensity. It was a burning reminder that life went on; marking the certainty of a tomorrow without the fallen, and it seemed wholly unfair that the daylight was allowing no pause for grief. It was his own human selfishness, he realised, to need the natural world to reflect the raincloud bursting in his chest.
A kind of relief then, when they made their way into the imposing great shadow of the wall, towards the lines of gravestones which grew out from the lush green ground in front of it like strange ominous plants, common as weeds, though neat in their multitudinous rows. The pervasive cover of the grey shadow felt more appropriate for mourning than the warm yellow sunlight.
It was only then that he noticed it: the ostentatious, ruffled square poking out at Oruo's neckline as the man assisted Petra with lifting instruments onto the small portable platform, where the band had taken to playing dirges for these events following Commander Erwin's reading out of the names of the missing and deceased.
It was exactly that ridiculous ruffled square that then held Eld's attention from beside him in the line, as the living stood in saluting formation, listening to the names of the dead.
The new cravat rippled in the delicate breeze as The Commander's voice boomed out;
"Patrik Haldor, killed in action."
Eld's chest tightened.
"Anna Beutelg, killed in action."
From somewhere further along in the rows to his right, a wailing sob wracked the body of Lynne, whose knees buckled, but she was caught and held up by Henning and Nanaba with frightening normality. Such moments were understandably common at these events; they were expected.
The Commander's voice continued to boom, but Eld no longer heard it. Bile was rising in his throat and he repressed a cough, the despicable liquid burning his throat as it rose and he fought to keep it down.
Still, Eld focused on the new cravat as he ground his teeth surely to a powder.
Squad Anna. Up until fairly recently, the only squad he'd spent any extra curricular time with at all. Gone. Only two had survived and were being transferred to new squads, though, due to their trauma, it wasn't even clear whether they would continue on as scouts.
Light almond eyes flashed through his mind; those smiling eyes that once had quite a hold on him.
Anna tapped her nose, "Trick of the trade buddy."
An image of Patrik's round cheeks as he laughed, making up some ridiculous story to entertain whoever would pay him the attention.
"No problem big E, see ya." Patrik stumbled off.
Weakness moved up his legs but he steadied himself, glancing back at Oruo's new cravat, finding the absurdity of that square of fabric provided him with just enough distraction to keep himself together.
He wouldn't ask the guy about it today.