September

"They said it was called a 'fishtail braid', now I can see why." Hange chattered, pulling strands of Petra's hair into the plait, "It looks a lot like a mermaid's tail."

They'd convinced her to let them try it out after they'd watched some youngsters outside a school in town plaiting each other's hair. Petra had only been too keen to agree to it, it had been an age since she'd done anything fun with her hair.

She smiled, her cheeks a little rosy from the wine they were sharing in the officers common room. She'd happened across Hange on her return to the barracks and on a whim asked if they were free for the evening; all of the guys in the squad were uncommonly busy, and she was feeling a little low, and not wanting to spend the night alone. A solitary crossword just wouldn't cut it tonight.

Hange had keenly accepted, adding that Moblit had banned them from working with the captured titans subjects for the day, yelling: "Section Commander! You need to take a break sometimes!" directly into their face.

"There. Stunning, even if I do say so myself. You should consider wearing it this way for training, it'll keep it out of your face."

Petra smiled and ran her fingers over the back of her head, feeling the criss-crossed pattern of the laced hair which was bound in the middle of her neck, making it just too short for her to see.

"Darn. I wish I could look." She said, "It feels pretty."

"Unfortunately you're just going to have to trust me." Hange replied, "Now, why don't we move over to the sofas?"

Petra grabbed her glass and fell deeply into one of the plush blue sofas nearish the fireplace, and Hange took a seat on the sofa across from her. It wasn't often she'd ever been into the officer's common room (with her Special Ops status she could come as often as she wanted, but with their own kitchenette space they just didn't see any need); it was much more luxurious than one would think for a room owned by the scout regiment.

"This place sure is fancy." She tittered.

"I heard a rumour that most of this furniture is stolen."

Petra gasped, "Really?"

"Many moons ago - I don't remember it so it must've been before even my time-"

"Oh so…eighty or ninety years ago?" Petra joked.

Hange cackled, raising their glass, "That's right! Before the walls were even built - if you can believe it." They winked, "Anyway, the rumour goes that a scout raised a false alarm in Trost, a fire or something that took all of the MP's away from their headquarters. While they were out, some other soldiers from the scouts poached all this fancy furniture from them."

Petra had her hand over her mouth, giggling, "Oh my god."

Hange grinned, "I think it was a retaliation against the MP's for persuading the government to cut our funding…and I don't think they ever found out who took it!"

"Wow." Petra chortled, "Talk about being bad at your job right? Aren't they supposed to be able to solve crimes?"

"You'd think if they'd had any idea then they would have come looking for it. Then again," They fiddled with their glasses, "They're stinking rich, they might've just bought more furniture with all the extra funding they got that year that they siphoned off us."

"But…" Petra sipped her wine, "How did the scouts get a whole bunch of swanky sofas all the way here from Trost? That must have been quite the trip."

"Simple." Hange blinked plainly, "Covered carts. I'm sure they'd have planned it all in advance - I'd imagine you could fit a few sofas on a cart if you stacked them up right, like a plush jigsaw."

"…are you sure you weren't there? You seem to know an awful lot about this crime for someone who claims to not be involved."

Hange's grin ever widened, "I wasn't…but, I'm certain that the person who told me this 'rumour' was."

Petra leant forward in anticipation. Hange remained staring at her, grinning, their eyes shining.

"Who?!" Petra pressed.

Hange placed their glass of wine on the coffee table between them and raised their hands slowly. Then, using the index and middle fingers of each hand, smoothed their eyebrows from the middle outwards and Petra choked out a laugh;

"The Commander!"

"That's neither for me to confirm or deny." They said, nodding and smiling.

Petra fell back into the sofa, giggling, "…was Squad Leader Mike there too?"

"I have no idea." They said, but continued nodding and their smile widened.

"Wow - I'm impressed! In a strange way, that makes me even more proud to be a scout."

"Theft?" Hange blinked.

"No, the attitude - sticking it to them!" She raised her wine glass to the sentiment in an enthusiastic toast, which caused more than a drop of wine to leap from the glass, and land in a large splash across Petra's white shirt. She gasped, throwing a hand over her mouth.

"Oh - balls - I'm not even slightly drunk I swear!" She swiftly placed the wine glass down and began pawing at her ruined shirt.

Hange cackled and made their way over, holding out their handkerchief,

"Happens to the best of us my dear." They sat on the arm of the sofa.

"Gee. Oh, thanks." She muttered taking the white square of fabric and dabbing at her chest, though it didn't really do much except spread the bleeding crimson around her shirt. Petra's eyebrow's twitched erratically and she tumbled into flustering and muttering curses, her cheeks heating up.

"Here." Hange took the cloth from her and gently pressed it to the stain at the top of Petra's chest, "Don't dab, hold. Then the handkerchief will absorb as much of the excess wine as possible. Having said that you'll still need to give it a bleach for at least ten minutes when you get back to the quarters, and even then…"

They caught eyes. Petra couldn't explain her feelings in that moment, as they were utterly confused, but she felt an urge to place her hand over Hange's. Their eyes shone with sparkling light and they smiled at her, though within the smile there was something else.

Petra held her breath. Why was she drawn to them? Now of all times? Was it perhaps that her heart, beaten down from its daily ravaging of unrequited longing for Captain Levi, had started to crave reciprocation? Here, sat right in front of her, was someone wonderful, intelligent and attractive, someone who'd previously admitted to having feelings for her…someone within reach, who wasn't a distant and unattainable dream…and she felt an impulse to lean in…

"Be patient my dear."

A small, sad twinkle graced their large brown eyes behind their glasses and they removed the pressure on the handkerchief;

"A peach tree takes many seasons of growth before it bears fruit, but that first bite…is the sweetest."

Petra blinked, her amber eyes doll-like as she intently studied their face.

They softened, tucking the single strand of hair that had come loose from Petra's braid behind her ear,

"It can be hard when our time is so fleeting, and I would never claim to be an expert in such things but…we have to shoot for what we really want, rather than settle for what's in front of us." They looked down momentarily, and a shadow of a smirk appeared on their lips,

"Besides…the peach tree might be a stubborn ass, but it needs care and attention as much as any other tree in the garden. Actually, I'm certain it needs it the most."

Petra swallowed, face crimson, eyebrows knit together, "…I - I don't have a peach tree…"

They smiled knowingly, "Don't you?" Then cocked their head to the side, inquisitively, "When was the last time you went out into the garden?"

Her breath quickened, "Hunh…"

She couldn't form a sentence. She was chewing her lip, thoughts whirling through her mind like wildfire in the wind.

"…ha…has this…peach tree…would you say…grown up in the dark?"

Their smile widened and they looked off towards the fireplace;

"Oh absolutely. Really, it's a marvel that it exists at all. It has gnarled old bark and clawed branches that scratch at you if you try to get too close. But some would say that all it really needs is a little sunlight."

Petra's breath stuttered and her shoulders dropped. If what they were saying was true then…

"I'm sorry." She said quietly.

It had never been her intention to use Hange in such a way, and she was eternally grateful that the scientist had stopped her before she made a thoughtless, impulsive mistake. Her feelings were making her a little crazy; she'd never been one to toy with other people's emotions until she'd started bottling up her own.

They squeezed her shoulder; their grin morphed into one of gratitude,

"Let's get you back to the barracks, you'll want to get that shirt soaking in bleach as soon as possible, or you might have to buy a new one."

Shirt bleaching in a bucket, Petra spent the remainder of the evening sat up in her bed, staring at the wall.

The evening was really dragging on.

Mike and Nanaba sat on Erwin's office couch, hand in hand. Levi leant against the bookcase, glass of unfulfilling whiskey in hand, scowling while a tipsy Erwin conversed with them about some garbage or other from his armchair.

"What was her name?" Nanaba asked.

"Marie." Mike replied.

A small, nostalgic smile passed Erwin's face.

"A pretty name," Nanaba said, "What's the story?"

"There isn't one." Erwin stated, standing and moved to his desk to fill up his wine glass (again), "She married Nile Dok."

The sound of the trickling alcohol permeated the room.

Levi tilted his head, "You sure that's a good idea?"

Erwin smiled but he didn't stop pouring, "There can be nothing more frequent than an occasional drink*."

Levi rolled his eyes.

"Is Marie the reason you stole all those sofas?" Nanaba's eyebrow raised, and then she turned and looked accusatorially at Mike.

"Uh…" Mike scratched his beard and glanced at Erwin, who smiled cunningly;

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about." He took a sip of his wine, returning to his armchair, "Though, I wouldn't begrudge anyone for wanting to test the efficacy of the Military Police, whatever their reason for doing so."

Mike chuckled.

"Ah." Nanaba picked up her glass, "To love then. May it never tempt us to steal."

"Hm." Mike smirked, glancing at Nanaba, "To love; that makes us more than what we are."

A light blush rose across Nanaba's cheeks.

Erwin raised his glass,

"To love; that comes quietly and unannounced, may we never regret basking in its light while we can."

He caught Levi's eye and, with a knowing tilt of the head, toasted towards him.

Levi swallowed but his dry throat stuck. His bones felt like they were made of jelly, and he had to tense every muscle around them just to stay in position. Only minutes later, he'd found that he'd excused himself, and had paced restlessly back to his office, locking the door behind him.

Levi spent the remainder of the evening in his office chair, staring blankly down at the wood of his desk.

The next evening was warm, the air was thick and the full moon occasionally peaked out from behind the purplish-blue clouds. Faintly between the trees, oil lamps glowed at the top of the rudimentary wooden supply shacks of the static training zone.

The weather meant visibility was patchy for night practice, but they were the Special Operations Squad: they worked in the trickiest conditions, for the longest hours.

Petra was stood intently watching the Captain as he briefly went over their strategy.

It was the first time any of them had seen him all day; he'd had an appointment earlier visiting a child of a donor to the scouts who'd wanted to meet their hero. The Commander would always make use of an opportunity for good publicity, no matter how short-tempered the scout's 'poster-boy'.

As her eyes scanned his face, her her heart stuttered precariously, and she had the pervading sensation that she was stood at the edge of a high cliff, staring down into an abyss.

He'd paired her off with him; it'd been happening more and more frequently the past couple of months, but she'd always just thought that was because of their similar stature, they were ideally matched for a joint dispatch, plus she was just about the only soldier that could keep up with him speed-wise. However, her conversation with Hange had changed everything. What they'd implied…that Captain Levi was…in her garden…or something less sexual sounding…although…

Gunther and Eld were paired to take the right hand side, and Oruo the centre, helping either pairing where possible. They grunted in acknowledgement of the instruction.

She'd always been so full of hope, ever since she was a child, but for months now she'd been working against her very nature - and now to find out that she should have just trusted herself, gone with her gut…

Preliminary strategy discussion over, they leapt from the platform and stormed through the course, Petra and the Captain taking the left hand side. He had yet to look at her even once, but her realisation of that didn't hang around long, as the rushing air and darkness immediately blew away all of her auxiliary thoughts - the difficulty of the task required her full concentration. It was nearly impossible to see him, a shadow between the shadows, only the glinting of his blades occasionally gave him away as he darted between the trees.

It had barely been ten minutes since they began the exercise when a rumbling crash of thunder unfurled across the sky, the soundtrack to Petra's shattering of a target. Proving it were possible, everything darkened further. With a hesitant look up, her eyes widened. The moon had fallen behind a thick layer of dark cloud, and the trees were now scarcely distinguishable from the spaces betwixt them.

In a flash, it began; rain shattering down in giant, freezing droplets, the kind that drenched you within seconds and ear-splitting thunder roared again.

Soaked, cloak sticking to every inch of her and constantly blinking water out of her eyes, Petra tried to make out the whereabouts of any member of her squad, when hail came pelting from the sky, biting at her skin with each tiny, icy strike.

From somewhere nearby to her right she heard the squeal of an emergency noise round; an instruction from the Captain to halt their task and either regroup or take cover. Since regrouping with the current visibility wasn't an option, the next best thing would be to find the nearest supply shack and take cover to wait out the storm.

A bright white sheet of lightning briefly illuminated the trees, and it was just enough for her to catch the Captain spin down towards a glowing oil lamp.

Lungs rattling and nose numb, she followed, the faint flickering light her only point of reference. She would make it. Diving through the darkness and sprinting across the increasingly slippy ground to the creaky wooden door of the shack beneath the lamp, she practically threw herself inside; a trembling mess. The door slammed behind her and she blinked the room into view. Or, she would have, if it weren't almost completely pitch black inside.

At least it wasn't hailing in here.

From her memory of being inside these tiny supply cabins they were small, windowless, packed floor to ceiling around the walls with stack of crates, something she got immediate confirmation of after she took a step in the wrong direction and kicked one.

"Ow! Mother of-"

"You alright?"

It was hard to hear him at first over the clattering of hail hitting the wood, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the point where she could just about see a shadow of him sat on a shorter stack of crates a couple of metres away, chin in hand, elbow on knee.

"Sir. Yes, fine - I'm - fine. Thank you for asking."

She stood quietly for a second, waiting as giant globules of rain dribbled off every inch of her, then took a sharp breath in,

"Are you - are you alright sir? That was-"

"Mm."

The hail rattled the shack with the crashing volume of a heavy waterfall, but Petra still felt the silence between them. She became very conscious of the sound of her own breath too, which shivered with her as she tried to regulate it.

Wringing out the sopping ends of her heavy, water-logged cloak, she un-hooked her blade boxes and made to sit on a single crate, a little relieved that it was in fact a real crate, and not a shadow of one. It was a gamble in this light - she wouldn't have put it past herself to sit into an empty space thinking it was one and accidentally collapse in a heap on the floor instead - and the situation was awkward enough already.

Minutes passed: pounding hail, her quivering breath, more pounding hail. She sniffled. If they didn't make it somewhere warm soon, every single one of the squad would definitely catch a cold. They were almost certainly in the same position: miserably sat, cold and wet in different supply shacks across the zone.

Captain Levi hadn't moved at all, not even a twitch; she couldn't even hear him breathing. So still and silent…

She smiled, her eyes, having adjusted slightly to the dimness, could pick out a little more of his shape through the darkness.

"It needs care and attention as much as any other tree in the garden. Actually, I'm certain it needs it the most."

She'd made a quiet vow to herself last year, to look out for him (even in spite of her own feelings), and looking out for him meant reading between the lines; working out what he needed. But she'd been a fool. She'd ignored all the signs; been excusing them - deciding what they meant for him. The softness and curiosity that occasionally shone like a many-sided blue jewel in his eyes. The moment or two in his office when he'd bent to her wishes and overlooked her insubordination. When he'd willingly sought her out to learn from her, brushed her face tenderly. Asked her advice. Picked her on expeditions to be at his side, when Eld was his second. Looked over at her while the squad ate dinner. It all suddenly made so much sense, and Petra hadn't been doing her job properly; hadn't kept her own lousy vow.

He was just a man; a guarded, grumpy man with some kind of superhuman powers; but a man with flaws and emotions all the same. Feelings he barely showed to the world but…he'd been showing them to her, over and over again. She'd never seen that light in him when he spoke to anyone else.

What had she been expecting? For a man infamous for his taciturnity to talk to her about how he felt without any encouragement? For a deeply selfless man, whose burden from mankind weighed on him so heavily, to have the means to broach something so comparatively trivial to him as his own happiness?

Maybe she deserved to stand out in the hail and the rain until she drowned for her lunacy.

She was special to him. He'd been showing her that she was the whole time.

She cleared her throat-

"I-"'

"Petra." He grumbled. "I can hear your damn shivering from here."

Huh? No, now wasn't the time, she needed to tell him-

"Captain Levi, sir, I-"

"Tch." He sighed and stood from his perch. "Come here."

Her mouth hung open as she stared into the darkness at his phantom silhouette.

"Petra."

"…right." She answered dubiously, standing, unsure what she was venturing towards and not just because she couldn't see properly.

"Take off your cloak. And jacket."

She gulped, her voice shaky with her trembling, "Uh…why sir?"

He sighed exhaustedly and she thought she could see his fingers massaging his temples in the dim light.

"Because they're soaking wet. You won't warm up with them on."

Oh. Wait. What was he suggesting?

She slowly placed her cloak and jacket on the crate she'd been sat on and took two unsteady steps towards him. Instantly she felt some warmth radiating from him.

He snorted, "Closer. You never huddled before or what?"

Another hesitant step brought her right up to him. She could just about make out that he'd shed his cloak and jacket too. For a second they stood, nose to nose in the dark. Then he pulled his arms strongly around her and drew her into him, her chin coming to rest over his left shoulder. Timidly, she brought her hands up around his back, kind of hovering over, barely touching the fabric of his shirt.

She was still shaking, but it no longer felt like it was due to the cold. He must have been able to feel the hammering of her heart, it was so much louder than the hail tumbling over the shack. Tingling shivers crawled around her, and her skin rippled with goosebumps.

As they held one another, gradually warming up, their breath fell into unison, the feel of his back rising and falling under her hands in time with hers brought her down from her spiralling, and she sensed herself relaxing into his hold.

She focused on the steady thrum of his heart beat, lulling hers into rhythm. Heat radiated from his chest into hers and she smiled faintly at the scent of his soap.

She took a deep, stabilising breath.

Gradually she eased her herself back slightly in his arms, bringing them face to face again. Try as she might she couldn't sense his expression, though they were only centimetres apart.

…

Ever so slowly, she leant in until her lips were brushing his.

He did nothing, as she'd expected, and so she pushed her kiss with a tiny amount more force before pulling away, an action that felt for all the world like pressing a seal into some warm wax. She'd made her mark.

The air was dark and full between them, and her heart pounded into the silence, the racket of hail long forgotten.

Then, catching her somewhat off guard, he came to her, tightening his arms around her back and returning his lips to hers.

.

Levi's heart had started thudding so hard he was certain it would burst out of him. Her lips were unbearably soft. In the dark, no one could see them, no one would know. It was like it wasn't happening. Like he'd shut his eyes and was living inside his own dream. A perfect sleep; her light breaths puffing against his cheek, her beautiful body moulding itself into his. The dull sweetness of her vanilla enveloping him in a shawl of invisible mist.

He'd been kissed before, perhaps once or twice, but they were borne out of frenzied hormones, rough, ugly and sloppy; buried in the garbage pile of his memories. He'd never been kissed like this, by someone who poured into him a healing balm with every minuscule movement, someone who was paying attention to him, who he really was. Undercover of darkness, through the movements of her lips and hands, he felt for the first time like he'd been seen.

.

Petra's breath was sticking in her throat, cold drops of rain from his wet hair and hers were rolling down their cheeks, but she didn't want it to stop. It was so chaste, so sweet, so unlike what she'd always imagined and yet so perfect. As though she'd met him at the end of a long nocturnal corridor, and rather than the rush of lust being the first moment, she was delighted that a careful consideration of one another was instead. They were feeling each other out, dipping a toe.

Simply, she hadn't imagined him to be so shy, and yet, given even one moments thought, such a notion made perfect sense with the tiny jewel of sweetness she'd glimpsed in him on those rare occasions. She'd coaxed him out of his hiding and something within her was whispering, take your time, don't push him, wait for him...

They barely made a sound beyond moving lips and the huff-puff of slight breaths, quiet in the rapture of new discovery.

She broke from him, and felt him jolt with hesitation, before touching her nose to his and nuzzling sweetly. To reassure him further, she pressed her forehead to his, her hands ghosting up his back, fingers twisting slightly in the leather straps of his harness. Comforted, she sensed him close his eyes, felt a hot, heavy exhale of his breath on her lips.

.

Levi began to wonder if he'd died in the storm. Misfired a hook, plummeted to his demise. This could only be that paradise rumoured to exist when you passed on. He never wanted it to end. He never thought he could experience so much elation in the darkness of home.

Her hands moved teasingly around to his front, to just above the band of his trousers. Eyes closed, he focused only on their movement as they loosely began to tug on the front straps of his harness, encouraging him forward, and he realised opening his eyes with a startled flutter that she was beginning to take steps backward towards the wall. He obliged, following her steps, spellbound by her nearly-invisible movement as she towed him lightly by the harness, gathering momentum until her back hit against a pile of crates with the clatter on clatter of jostling wood and she giggled softly.

He couldn't get close enough. Practically falling into her, his eager hands mapped her body, memorising every contour of her back, every smooth curve of her frame while he once again pushed their foreheads together, basking in her snatched expectant breaths as she did the same to him. That she was letting him do this was surely preposterous; none of it could be real. It had to be seen to be believed, and it couldn't be seen, so…

His own breath tumbled from him erratically as he once again took her lips, moving with more force than before; a man who hadn't realised how starving he was until he'd taken his first bite.

.

Petra was dizzy with bliss from his impatient hands, from his building pace.

Unexpectedly, he quit the kiss, his nose grazing hers, frozen in position, as though he was considering something. Then, he gently took her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging lightly, coaxing her to open her mouth for him. She obliged and he moved against her a little roughly, his tongue clashing against hers.

Clearly unsure of himself, she felt him falter, but she met him, encouraging him with her movements and began to slowly guide him.

She suddenly felt like the most powerful person in the world.

He was remarkable, reading and mirroring her almost exactly, deepening the kiss until they moved harmoniously around one another, a warm, wet dance in the dark. Even for a man so evidently inexperienced with such things, she wasn't worried. She knew only too well of his physical prowess, attention to detail, that he was a fast learner, and it was thrilling to feel him quickly growing in confidence (and other areas).

Levi relished learning her, intensifying their connection, pulling her body up against his over and over. Closer. Closer.

The telltale ache of longing had long since begun between his legs and he gave a breathy "uhh" as her hand moved up through his undercut. She whimpered as he slid his hand down the side of her left leg, then lifted her, so he was carrying her full weight up against the crates, her legs clamping around him, his hands on her ass, his raging erection pressing up against the warmth of her. It was damn near painful already, and he found himself involuntarily bucking his hips into her, searching for some respite, and she cried out feebly in response, which only served to spur him on and he dropped his nose into the groove of her neck and began nipping at her skin, all the while she struggled to suppress her gasping cries. She sounded even better than in his dreams.

"Captain…" She breathed, and he stopped, moving his lips to her ear,

"Levi." He said, his voice rumbling low in his chest, sure she could feel the vibrations of it.

She sucked in air and exhaled his name in a whisper.

"Levi…"

If he wasn't so wretchedly desperate for her, he might have savoured the moment of her hesitancy, saying his name as though she wasn't sure she was allowed to. As it was, his body was demanding relief from his suffering, urging him on, and it was all he could do not to shred her whole stupid-ass uniform with his bare hands.

.

Petra liked how his name tasted in her mouth.

"Levi…ah!"

There was nothing she didn't like. Her blood was singing, her muscles a frenzy of sparks, her spirit turbulent with passion. She was floating through the stars, light and wild, hopeless for him, her body begging for him to fill the space within her which had never before felt so empty.

Grappling her ass and catching her lips again he pushed her with some force up against the crates to the sound of a tumbling crash - somewhere through the gloom to their side a whole stack of them had thundered to the ground.

"Well, shit." He mumbled and she giggled, pulling his face towards hers again, already missing the feel of his skin.

Seconds later however, they were disturbed by another, much quieter creaking noise.

The muscles of his arms and back suddenly tensed and he pulled away, then lowered her to the ground. She stumbled a bit as her feet found the floor again, stunned at the speed at which the passion had drained from him.

Then, with a light brush of her cheek with his hand, he walked away into the gloom.

Anger and embarrassment were rising through her like a great wave. Trembling once more, she made to follow him, when the door to the shack swung open with a smack, and there, lit by bright moonlight, a confused expression on his face, was Oruo.

The storm had passed.

"Uh…Captain? You in here?" Oruo asked, scratching his head and peering into the shadowed shack.

His question was answered as the man himself pushed passed him back outside, his jacket and cloak slung over his shoulder.

She watched him standing still between the tree trunks, the rectangular doorway framing him like a large old painting. He held out his hand, and glanced up into the now clear skies;

"Regroup. Find the others and meet at the starting platform."

Then he was gone, zipped off into the night.

You: It's been 84 years!

Me: I'm sorry but you shouldn't have picked Hermes as your courier. After approximately 20,000 attempts, your romance storyline will be delivered.

Jk ive never known Hermes to attempt to redeliver anything.

Prev chapter had more in the way of tactics moments + covered events from OVA Ilse's Notebook!

Title of this one should be "To Love;" but once again won't allow things

*Erwin is quoting Oscar Wilde