Petra was still in a half dream-like state when something punctured her daze; she could faintly smell the bucket of mild bleach once more, peeking through the odour of their sweat - but there was also…something else.
"Levi…?" She asked quietly; she was stood back in her bra, and was apprehensively pulling her trousers back on, scanning the room.
"…do you smell burning?"
The man was still topless, concentratedly sweeping rogue buttons into a dustpan with his just-fucked hair. His steel eyes snapped up. At the speed of light he dashed purposefully past her to the side of the desk, and to where her discarded, buttonless shirt had come into contact with a clumsy candle that had apparently toppled from the table and rolled along the floor at some point during their…union.
"Shit-"
Panicked, he stood in flickering thought, arms out, head flitting from side to side, and on finding nothing of use, began stamping on the garment but the unyielding flames instead grew around his boot.
Petra had a hand over her mouth, stupefied as she watched him, worried, but nonetheless struggling to fight away the small bit of her that found the whole ordeal hilarious.
Smoke began curling around his leg and she pulled her hand away from her mouth;
"Bucket!" She cried out, but he'd already picked up the still-blazing fabric by its only remaining unlit corner and flung it into the pail of muddied water behind him to the hiss of suddenly snuffed flames.
A second of tense silence followed, both pairs of eyes on the steaming bucket, then Petra collapsed into uncontrollable giggling, throwing both hands over her mouth. Levi sighed soundlessly as he turned back to face her, crossing his arms over his astonishing chest and cocking his head in a wryly questioning manner.
"Something funny?"
She cleared her throat loudly and straightened up,
"No, no sir."
Her lips pressed together to try and stifle her smile but she was failing tremendously.
He quirked a brow and spoke slowly, his low voice rumbling,
"Liar, liar, shirt's on fire."
Another laugh burst from her and she replied, "Not anymore, thanks to you."
"I'm sorry. Did you prefer it that way?" He looked and sounded completely serious, and the only reason she knew he wasn't was a small glint in his eye that most would have missed.
Still beaming she approached him, she began ghosting her fingertips down the sides of his arms. Her elated brain noted her sudden confidence in touching him that even an hour ago didn't exist at all. The realisation of the change sent her heart capering.
She nodded, jovial, "Didn't you know? My flaming shirt keeps me warm in winter. But then…" Her fiery eyes caught his, "Maybe now I have something else to keep me warm…"
Her spirit twinkled as her fingertips elicited goosebumps from his skin.
He observed her in that manner that she might have once called expressionless, but had since learned to read its undertones. There was nothing like falling for someone to make you hyper-aware of every tick, every microscopic change in their countenance, not to mention Levi'd literally been training them all in wordless communication for months now.
In those bluish depths, it looked like a door closed.
With a slow exhale, he brought a hand to hers and moved it away. She gave him an inquiring look, and he relaxed his already gentle grip, brushing the skin of her arm with his thumb. One gentle movement that lingered, the final evaporating wisps of their evening's romance.
"Don't waste any more time here. You won't get enough sleep before drills."
Her heart was sinking like a stone through a black lake.
"I can help you clean."
She said, her hand taking his in a last-ditch attempt to rekindle anything of the sweet closeness just gone.
"No. It's alright. Head back."
He released her hand, and without looking at her, walked past through the room to pick the smoking candle up off the floor.
Petra swallowed uncomfortably. It felt like a total rejection, but she had to trust him more than that. Despite the sudden callousness of his action, the softness had remained in his voice.
This was just how he dealt with things, she'd learned as much from watching him with fallen soldiers on the battlefield. He would allow himself to feel (if quietly, 'expressionlessly'), then return to duty the next moment. This was simply her Captain returning to duty, though she wished deep down in her core that she could watch him return to her instead. A rush of something rose up through her, and she was instantly filled with the certainty that he would. Perhaps not immediately, but he would return. Like any good scout, he didn't do things by halves.
Suddenly feeling unsuitably exposed, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat;
"Um, Captain?"
He turned to her as she now stood, arms across her chest.
"Do you - you wouldn't happen to have - a spare shirt?"
He blinked in surprised realisation, before coming around the front of the desk and picking up his grey long sleeve.
"Here. Put this on."
As she tentatively took the grey bundle of fabric from his outstretched arm, there was a loud rapping at the door.
"Petra still not back?" Gunther yawned, washing the final teacup.
"No. Haven't heard a thing." Eld frowned, blowing out the candles on the table.
"Strange." Gunther mumbled, placing the clean cup on the rack, "I hope she's alright. It's late."
Eld stood for a moment contemplatively. Gunther approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What's up?"
"Nah. Nothing." He replied.
"Sure?" Gunther probed, "What's bugging you?"
Eld's brow pinched, "Just…wondering if one of us should wait up is all."
"Ah." Gunther glanced to the doorway to the hall.
Eld sighed, "I really wish we hadn't let that moron go to bed early. Those boots are only half-clean."
"To be honest, I'm glad we did. He only would've complained."
"Yeah, loudly."
Gunther smiled, "I don't mind staying up for a bit. Or you can come wake me up in a couple hours if you want to wait here."
"Yeah. Maybe do that. I'll come get ya in a bit if she's still not back. Shift work style." He suspired, returning to the table and defeatedly picking up one of the candles he'd just blown out, and went to re-light it on the fading wall torch.
"Hey Eld." Gunther called from the doorway.
"What?"
"I remember the scores on the leaderboard." He quirked a brow. "No funny business. You fudge the numbers I'll just change them straight back."
Eld smirked, "You know I don't need to cheat to win."
Levi lifted a finger to his lips, and tilted his head to the space behind the door. Petra, wide-eyed, nodded and quietly skittered into the spot just as the brass doorknob turned and the door creaked open, jostling a little as the mystery person behind it clocked the lit candles of the most-definitely occupied room.
"Captain Levi. I - didn't-"
Clara stuttered somewhat before standing tall in the doorway, one hand coming to her chest in a half-hearted salute, the other resting on the door to hold it open.
Levi had to withhold a snort. Sod's law that Petra's ex-squad leader, who'd made no attempt to hide her ceaseless bitterness about the ginger's transferral to his squad almost a whole year ago, would barge in out of the goddamn blue for some godforsaken reason right at this exact moment. He supposed they were lucky she hadn't appeared five minutes earlier.
If Clara spotted Petra then…he didn't even want to think about it. It would completely ruin Petra's career, that was certain. Not to mention the respect she'd lose from-
"Didn't what?" He spat, "Didn't expect to find me in my own damn office?"
From the doorway, Clara raised her eyebrows. Her unwitting upper-hand made her position even more imposing as she towered over him. She scanned his lithe, athletic physique. His arms were crossed indignantly in front of his bare chest, and his face was contorted into an almost-snarl, like an angered rat.
Clara sniffed,
"Forgive me Captain, it's only-"
She stopped; a confused expression flitted across her face and her eyes dropped down, to the little gap under the door she was holding open.
—
Petra held her breath. This wasn't good.
She stood as still as a statue. She wasn't going to give Clara cause to venture further into the room.
What were the chances of this? Rather, why in three walls would Clara show up to the Captain's office in the middle of the night?
Her eyes bored into Levi, trying to tell him she was sorry that she'd gotten him into this position. But he remained focused on Clara, and his eyes didn't so much as flit to her.
Of course - why would he? That would immediately give her away. She was such a fool sometimes.
Her heart rattled. It turned out there was never a good time to tell your superior officer how you felt about them. There was certainly never a good or appropriate time to fall in love with them…or to fuck them in their office for that matter. She already knew that though.
Damn it!
Could they really not have just one evening of happiness in each other's arms?
She scrunched up her face and prayed to Sina.
—
"Yes?" Levi pressured, his voice razor-sharp.
Clara looked back up, shaking her head, as though she'd only momentarily lost her train of thought and not come unthinkably close to discovering her ex-subordinate behind a door, trembling in her white lace bra.
"I wasn't expecting you to be in at all sir, let alone…" She gestured vaguely to his rough-and-ready state, hair mussed, no shirt and the top button of his trousers undone.
He clenched his jaw, simmering, "Get to the point."
Clara stood up a little straighter,
"Commander Erwin sent me, sir. My squad has been having issues with the newly issued blade boxes - they've been complaining of defects in their construction. The Commander told me to go to the cabinet in your office to collect the evaluations completed by your squad during the initial testing process, as they will need to be reviewed along with my squad's gear to see if these complaints were picked up in that testing. Some of them are having issues removing the blad-"
"So Erwin sent you here in the middle of the damn night?" Levi needled, taking a forbidding step forward.
Clara stood fast,
"Yes sir. He told me you wouldn't appreciate being hassled for the documents, and that it would be best to come by while your squad was out at night training."
Levi exhaled something between a bitter laugh and a grunt,
"Sure. You've done a great job not hassling me. Strange that you didn't notice the big-ass storm tonight; hail, thunder…rain in the pitch dark…makes night-training a little tricky, wouldn't you say?"
He stepped forward again, grabbing the edge of the door with a hand and holding it fast, completely blocking Clara from the room. His fierce gaze caused her to recoil a touch - only a touch - but he noticed it.
"Rain also has a nasty habit of making your uniform wet." His eyes flickered down in reference to his state of undress, and returned to hers, pressing her.
"Quite, Captain."
They stared at one another.
—
Petra chewed her lip, eyes using all her energy to try and burn a hole through the door.
Why were they so quiet all of a sudden?
She scrunched the grey fabric nervously in her hands and brought it to her face to muffle her breathing. The secondary benefit of Levi's scent wasn't overlooked by her either.
Her chest jolted. Drat; she needed to sneeze. She wrinkled her nose as her ribcage and abdomen began to constrict in short sharp bursts in response to her attempts to thwart the tickles travelling up through her nose.
Not now, holy Maria, not now not now not now-
—
They had been stood for some seconds still staring in an uncompromising stalemate, when Clara finally broke.
"Well Captain. I'll leave you to…get dressed. Perhaps I'll send Stefan over tomorrow to collect the documents required, if that is suitable to you."
Levi blinked. His scowl deepened.
"Right." Clara punctuated, "Good evening sir."
She made to leave, but stopped only a step away, mumbling over her shoulder,
"That smell. What is that? It's like…"
Levi's cold glare was unflinching, but the air travelled through him uneasily.
Like what?
Sweat?
Sex?
A Captain copulating with his best soldier?
Fuck.
"…like…a bonfire in a soap factory." She finished with a titter, walking off down the hallway.
"Tch."
Levi's slam of the door just about covered Petra's loud (and adorable) sneeze. She looked at him sheepishly. His head fell into his hand and he stood quietly lamenting for a minute or so. From his periphery, he glimpsed her pulling his grey long sleeve over her head, but she didn't approach him, only stood timidly by the door.
"That can't happen again." He said lowly.
"…sir? What do you mean?"
He inhaled deeply and lifted his head from his hand to look at her, struggling to disregard the blip of satisfaction he felt on seeing her dishevelled and wearing his shirt.
"…Captain. What can't happen again?"
He looked away, pained.
The book spines were an array of dark greens stacked along the shelf, candlelight licking across them in yellow. He couldn't tear his gaze from their covers, and yet he could sense the tears welling up in her eyes a metre away. A moment later, she appeared before him and took his cheeks in her hands, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He stood unmoving and dumbstruck, and the next thing he heard the door close softly, and when he finally grew the balls the glance to it, the room was empty, save his own miserable presence.
The icy air slapped Petra in the face and it felt like her tears froze in place on her cheeks.
Even still she knew to wait for him. She wasn't angry with him this time. When one explores uncharted territory, it isn't possible to predict the bumps in the road.
She knew that his reluctance to embrace any good thing for himself meant that the slightest challenge they faced regarding said good thing would send him tumbling; for he would always be searching for an excuse not to accept love, no matter how willingly given to him.
The thing was, he no longer had a choice about whether or not her love would be bestowed on him. He could throw any kind of tantrum he wanted about it, he could reject her over and over and over and still she would be there, waiting patiently for him to come around and realise that he was worth it. She understood him, and though she'd had no experience of the horrors of his life or the amount of pressure the world put on him, she'd seen that her presence helped him with his burdens, and there was little more to it than that.
She'd wait for him to return to her.
As she made her way into the barracks she was startled to see a dim light in the common room and welled up for a second time when she saw the figure of Eld lit by a single dwindling candle, asleep on his arms at the table, snoring, clearly waiting for her. Wiping the tears away she approached him, and beamed at the letter he'd begun to write;
My Darling Harriet,
Despite her burgeoning curiosity, she decided not to read on. Matters of the heart needed their space, and if he asked her where she'd been when she woke him up, she would fight against her very sinew and lie. He deserved the same level of privacy.
"Hey…Eld…" She whispered, giving him a prod.
"Mmha?" He mumbled, a single eye opening.
"I think you might be more comfortable in a bed." She giggled quietly as he rubbed his eyes and stretched.
"...huh?" He voiced, bleary-eyed and stood up, scratching his head as he noticed his half-finished letter, "What day is it?"
"I think now…Tuesday." She smiled from the doorway, "If we hurry we might get three hours sleep before drills tomorrow."
"Man. That's rough." He mumbled, folding up the letter and pocketing it.
"Night Eld." She uttered.
"Night. Wait." He stroked his chin, puzzled and Petra waited patiently for the obvious question: "What happened?" or "Where have you been?" perhaps.
"…have you always had that grey shirt?"
Oh…that wasn't the question she'd been expecting at all…
"Yes." She nodded, trying to commit to the lie as believably as she could, "It's standard issue but it was slightly too big so I sometimes wear it to bed…"
He blinked once. "Oh, right. Night."
The week was an utter shambles. Naturally every single one of them (Except Captain Levi somehow) caught a terrible cold from training during a hailstorm, and the lack of sleep hadn't helped matters.
On Tuesday morning they lined up, pale-faced, dark circles beneath their eyes, and Eld amused himself wondering if perhaps the Captain felt like he was gazing into four full-length mirrors stationed side by side. He'd been the only person to look normal that day.
A series of atrocious exercises and swearing followed; highlights including Oruo's dizziness which meant he kept going in the opposite direction to wherever he was instructed, Eld's exhausted mis-fired hook that a confused Gunther tried to grab mid-air (and luckily missed) having ostensibly forgotten what the hell they were all doing, and Petra's forceful sneeze which propelled her several metres backwards through the air until she hit a tree.
The strange thing about all of it though, was that even as their skills somehow worsened with each passing day, the Captain was uncommonly lenient.
Eld had never thought that compassion was beyond the man, quite the opposite: certainly he was understanding that sickness would impair their ability somewhat, but it was nonetheless odd that not one of them had been chastised at all, let alone given any penalties for their piss-poor performances. He'd even ordered them all to get to bed on time every night, not to partake in any extra curricular activities (Eld assumed this was largely referring to the tavern and band practice) and one morning had left them a pot of 'remedial tea' on the kitchen table with a note ordering them to finish it before turning up to drills. Furthermore, Eld hadn't heard him disparage their disgusting dribbling red noses or hacking coughs even once, although he had consciously kept his distance from them, jaw clenched whenever someone wheezed - lenient or not, he was still an extreme germaphobe.
Stranger then, when he silently appeared on Friday evening as the four of them were wearily making soup for dinner, having entirely avoided the common spaces up until that point.
"Knight to p3." Oruo picked up a random chess piece and squinted at it.
"There is no p3 you idiot." Gunther grumped, his voice particularly nasal, then loudly blew his nose into his handkerchief, "And that's a pawn."
"Well that's obviously what I meant. Pawn to - uh…"
"d3?" Eld shouted over his shoulder where he was stirring the pot in the kitchenette, "I think you're looking at it upside down."
"And back to front apparently - b3 surely?" Gunther grumbled, "Have you never played chess before?"
"A gentleman never tells." Oruo sniffled and placed the pawn down on a random square in the middle of the board, crossing his arms smugly, "Heh."
—
Petra was smiling widely at the shambolic game happening on the dining table, when she felt a presence behind her at the counter. Her heart stopped as she was suddenly boxed in either side by two strong arms and she felt a warm puff of air by her left ear;
"Here."
Levi's left hand appeared over hers which clasped a knife she was using to chop parsley for the soup's garnish.
His voice was quiet, just above a whisper, heated on her neck, and she was breathless,
"Gather the leaves together first in this hand," His right hand did so, "Then place it on top of the blade to help control the movements. Use the point as a pivot while you cut."
Then, hands over hers, he demonstrated, slicing the leaves so that they were minced finely into tiny ribbons as his body pressed into her back and caged her in against the counter. Her breath quaked. His thumb lightly brushed the skin of her hand. They were in the middle of the common room, and yet, none of the squad had clocked their position at all: Gunther and Oruo were barking chess rules at one another between fits of coughing, and when she glanced over her shoulder she saw Eld with his back turned, humming tunelessly, stirring and seasoning the pot.
The herbs now perfectly cut, his body withdrew and a coldness took its place around her as she watched him pace to the table, casually pull out his chair and sit at the head. He gave her a pointed look, something like smug challenge as she continued staring at him in disbelief.
She suddenly remembered one of the first things she'd learned about him: he was only seen when he wanted to be. It was like he was proving something to her, no matter who came close to discovering what was between them: Clara, the squad, anyone, he would be able to get away with it with them none the wiser.
"Hey booster-seat you finished chopping? I'm about done over here." Eld queried, and with a disbelieving blink at her Captain she turned with the chopping board and wordlessly handed it to Eld.
This ridiculous man. She knew he'd return to her. And after three and a bit days of only completely necessary interaction no less (It was probably for the best, she felt like death warmed up, and she was sure that she looked even worse). She'd surprised herself a little at how well she'd dealt with it all - she hadn't felt even slightly awkward around him in drills, in fact, gross illness aside, the return to routine felt natural, as though nothing had changed between them, and she supposed she'd been in love with the man for such a long time, that nothing really had.
But, after all these days of ignoring it, this was how he chose to broach the subject?
Well…if he wanted to play, then she'd play.
"Phew, is it hot in here?" She uttered, fanning herself with one hand and undoing the top two buttons of her shirt with the other, trying not to smirk when she noticed him avert his eyes and the flat line of his mouth tighten a tiny amount.
Gunther was grumbling under his breath as he packed away the chess board and Oruo sat idly, fiddling with his cravat.
"At least help set the table." Gunther looked at him, and Oruo huffed, getting up from his seat and heading to the cupboard.
Petra had gathered cutlery and strutted past Oruo on his way to the kitchenette to set them on the dining table. She made a marked show of leaning right over and slightly pressing an arm to her chest to enhance her cleavage. One table setting, two table setting, then she was behind Levi, leaning around him as he'd done to her moments ago, slowly, concisely placing a knife a fork either side of him.
His low voice rumbled,
"What am I meant to do with these? I thought we were having soup."
She scrunched up her face. Damn it!
"R-right." She fumbled picking the cutlery back up and flitted back around the table to collect the rest.
Oruo guffawed on his way over, "If you want to make a good wife one day Petra, you'd do well to learn the difference between the types of cutlery. I've always said, a good woman is-ARGH!"
He cried out as she kicked him hard in the leg and held a fork to his neck.
"Finish that sentence, I dare you."
Oruo gulped, his beady hazel eyes on her and after a short moment, shook his head. She brought the fork away and after placing his pile of plates on the table, he massaged his neck.
"Geez. Whats the big deal? It was just some friendly advice."
"On that subject," The Captain uttered, gesturing to the pile of plates, "I've never eaten soup from a plate. Perhaps bowls are more suitable?"
Oruo paled, staring at him in shock, "Uhh…." As the rest of the squad's noisy guffaws bounced around the four walls.
"Just some friendly advice." The Captain leant his chin in his hand, a sparkle of good humour travelling through his eyes.
Oruo pouted, petulantly picking up the plates and returning to the kitchenette.
Minutes later they were sat around the table, Eld ladling out the steaming broth into their bowls to intermittent sniffling. Oruo tucked a napkin into his collar over the top of his cravat and picked up his spoon to begin, but Eld clouted him around the head,
"Hey moron." He began, "Gotta say grace first."
"Huh?" Oruo scowled, "Since when did we-"
"Thank you Maria for this gift of soup." Eld declared loudly, a hand over his heart, and his eyes shut like a preacher.
Silence.
Eld opened one eye,
"You're supposed to repeat it back." He stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, then resumed his position, clearing his throat obnoxiously, "Thank you Maria for this gift of soup."
The rest of the squad eyed one another skeptically, then Gunther, Petra and Oruo repeated the line uncertainly as a chorus,
"Thank you Maria for this gift of soup."
Eld continued, "That has been lovingly imparted by one talented chef."
"That has been lovingly imparted by one…"
There was some giggling, and uttering of words that absolutely weren't 'talented' or 'chef'. Eld chose to ignore them, and continued confidently;
"May it nourish us,"
"May it nourish us."
"Both body and soul,"
"Both body and soul."
"And Oruo's mind,"
"And Oruo's-"
"Hey! Screw you!"
Petra and Gunther laughed and Eld opened his eyes again, this time commanding like a schoolteacher;
"Eyes closed!"
—
Levi observed in amusement as the squad immediately obeyed Eld, smashing a hand to their hearts and screwing their eyes shut.
"Let the delicious potatoes and tasty stock heal our aching muscles,"
As they repeated it back, he watched Petra, who tentatively opened her eyes and caught him staring. She gazed back at him with a wide smile. His heart fluttered, but he wouldn't dare look away as she laughed, lit in the gold of the cozy room as she repeated Eld's dumbass prayer, holding his eyes continuously;
"And allow it's herby goodness to clear our stuffed up noses,"
Levi gestured to Eld, then gently shook his head in light-hearted disapproval, drawing another one of Petra's musical giggles, exactly as he'd hoped. He felt so light, so comfortable, so free all of a sudden.
"So we may live to slay titans another day, as the greatest damn squad the survey corps has ever known."
Levi issued a quiet single laugh, and the table quietened, each member of the squad opening their eyes widely to search his expression. A beat passed and they all cheered, uproariously clanking their tankards of water.
"SOUP!" Eld shouted, finally sitting down and hurriedly digging in.
"SOUP!" The other three chorused in response, and Levi found himself smiling.
"You wanted to see me, sir? Out here?" Petra asked quietly.
The stars twinkled above the stables and he surveyed the roofs of them from the muddy ground.
"Mm." He hummed, "Nowhere to talk in the barracks. This way."
Swiftly, he deployed his gear, propelling himself onto the roof and stood in wait, gazing down at her expectantly. Not a moment later, she followed, wires whizzed and she was stood next to him on the stable rooftop. He turned and walked to the far edge and sat, legs dangling, facing out at a large field with the ODM run forest in the distance. She sat by his side studying the moonlit view.
For a while they sat quietly, simply enjoying one another's company, listening to the gentle stirring of the breeze through the nearby trees, and the sleepy puffing and whinnying of the horses shuffling beneath them.
"A-choo!" Petra sneezed loudly, whipping a handkerchief from her pocket and blowing her nose. "Sorry." She mumbled, "Looks like that soup hasn't healed me as thoroughly as we'd all hoped."
"That your handkerchief?" He asked wryly, and noticed her try to stifle a smile.
"How did you know it wasn't?" She returned, a single eyebrow raised.
He simply looked at her. The truth was it was a funny quirk he'd noticed about her early on, that she never seemed to carry her own.
She blew her nose once more, "It's Oruo's. He said he was sick of hearing me sneeze, but really I think he gave it to me to apologise for that comment at dinner. It doesn't always seem it, but deep down, and I mean deep down, he's very good natured."
"Huh."
"Aren't you worried about getting sick, being out here with me?"
"Wouldn't be the first time you've made me sick."
She bit her lip, scrunching up the handkerchief in her hands.
He took a deep breath, "You said this made you happy." The he fired her a look, and she returned it.
"Levi?"
He brought his eyes up to the moon, his profile luminous in the blue-white light.
"I need to know you've thought it through. One slip up, a single wrong move and there's a risk the general rank and file will find out."
He heard her take a slow breath,
"Wasn't that what you were showing me at dinner, with that chopping lesson? That they won't?"
He sighed, "Even I make mistakes Pet, despite what the scribblers might have you believe. Sometimes situations are out of my control, like your ex-squad leader showing up the other night. I need to know you've considered every consequence of this. You shouldn't bank on always being so lucky."
From the corner of his eye he could see her mulling over his words, fiddling with the handkerchief in her lap.
"And what happens if they do find out, do you think?"
He opened his mouth and closed it again. After a moment, he spoke,
"I can't see every outcome, but…you need to be prepared that it won't be pretty. There's always the chance it'll get swept up in the rumour-mill. People love to talk shit about things they haven't got a goddamn clue about."
She swallowed,
"You're worrying about my reputation."
He glanced back at her, taking in her beautifully lit profile, her still shuffling hands, but a faint smile had eased across her lips.
"I am." He replied.
"Please don't." She met his eyes, "I told you, I've thought about my priorities, and I pick you. And to be honest sir, what they say or don't say really doesn't matter to me. It would just be empty, meaningless chatter. There are so many more important things. Just look at Mike and Nanaba - she's been in his squad since before even I joined the scouts, and I haven't heard a bad word said about her by a single soldier. I'd hope that if folk did talk about this, that they'd treat me with the same respect, in fact, I'm certain that the vast majority would."
Levi blinked, stunned. He didn't even know that she had any idea about Mike and Nanaba's relationship. It was common knowledge among the officers certainly, but if Petra knew, then that meant it might've been common knowledge among the soldiers in general. But…
"Still. You shouldn't assume that they will."
Even outside in the blue of the night, her eyes were still so warm.
"Ok. Let's say they do say horrible, derogatory things…question my ability as a scout…would that make those things true?"
He frowned, "No, but,"
"But nothing Levi." She beamed, moving a hand across and squeezing his, "I'm not going to back down on this. I'm sorry but, sir, you're stuck with me until a titan gets me, or Oruo poisons us all with one of his terrible homemade liqueurs."
The corner of his mouth quirked up.
She squeezed his hand again, "I'm certain of my choice. I will never regret it until my dying day."
With the moonlight glittering in her eyes and that unbelievable ardent determination she possessed, he knew she was telling the truth. A gilded wave surged through him and he leant forward and kissed her plainly, savouring the soft feel of her, then pulled away.
"Thank you." He muttered.
With a pleased nod, she released his hand and returned to staring at the sky, pointing out a constellation her father had taught her. They spent some time quietly discussing the shapes and the various myths associated with them, when without warning, Levi sneezed and heard her collapse into unbridled giggling and the occasional utterance of 'I'm sorry!'.
—
Oruo squinted in to the distance towards the stables.
He'd just finished washing up the bowls and spoons from dinner, and given into his curiosity, having overheard the Captain request Petra's assistance with a task at the stables. Hard to see from being so far off, but it certainly looked like the pair of them, sat not a metre apart on the roof, pointing at the stars.
Oruo was no fool. No way was this just some simple astronomy lesson. Petra didn't know shit about stars, and the Captain grew up underground for Maria's sake.
But could it really be…what he'd suspected?
A bond had clearly formed between them, even without this little stargazing show, that was obvious to him. He looked dejectedly down at his cravat.
Not that he could blame the Captain for being interested, or even for treating her differently. Oruo'd always known Petra was something a little bit special, from the moment he met her. And the Captain was a truly great man, strong, with a good heart.
He sighed gruffly, and returned to the barracks.
Thanks so much again for the support! :) I finished editing this at 11:59 pm oh boy im tired