A/N: Hi all! so sorry for the massive delay in posting. I've had most of this chapter done for a while, but life got in the way, and when I finally shoved it back out the window all I was left with was a blank tail-end of a page and a room absent of ideas. Such is the writing life...*melodramatic sigh*

That being said, I hope that the coming weeks will be quieter so I have more time to write (yay!). Also, I am planning on adding at least one more chapter to this fanfic so it can have airtime as a full-fledged story (yay!). And perhaps this comes a little late, but apologies for making Eren/Jean quite OOC. AOT would not originally have been my choice to write humour for, but I was hooked on the characters and the series (but mainly the characters). The result is a story with a slightly askew cast, and so I have to improvise.

Enough rambling from my side - I'm just excited to be typing nonsense on a keyboard again. Enjoy the chapter and I hope to be back soon with the next one!

Knowing its origins, it's hard for Levi to stomach any of the turkey. His finger digs a wrinkle into the tablecloth as Mikasa polishes off a drumstick. Surely, her lack of conscience can only be borne from a close familiarity with the turkey's original owner.

His phone rings. He palms his phone and looks at the caller.

"That prankster friend of yours callin' fer their alarm clock?"

"Excuse me."

It takes him two rings to get into the bedroom and another ring to pick up.

"Fina - fucking - lly!"

"Merry Christmas to you too." Levi grumps, holding the phone three inches from his ear. "What do you want, Hange?"

"Just wanted to wish you a happy holiday…amongst other things. Word on the grapevine is that you're getting divorced with Mikasa. Is that true?"

It's a good thing Levi's stomach is empty or he would have given the wall an organic paint over.

"No."

"Thank God. The world remains a safe place to live."

"Where the hell did you hear that?"

"Well…"

"I have a right to know who's spreading rumours behind my back."

"Jean." He can almost imagine Hange pinching their nose on the other side. "He said you were with Eren and he saw you kissing him, but I guessed there's more to it. Is there?"

"Yeah." He relents. He isn't one to care about what others think, but he desperately needs somebody in his corner, even if it is drama-loving Hange. He relates the morning's events to them. Each and every ejaculation grates against his ears.

"Jean and Eren? No way!"

"Oh my God, I hope he didn't spot you and Eren together!"

"But why?"

"From the way you're carrying on I'd almost guess you're having fun." He huffs, having grown so uncomfortable with their gleeful remarks that he'd watered down his spat with Mikasa so that it bears the same resemblance to the original event as a child to its great grand uncle twice removed.

"This is better than reality TV! Sorry you're the main character. But I guess every main character needs an antagonist, and Jean's pretty formidable - "

"Hange!"

" - what are you going to do?"

Levi massages his temples.

"If I could choose, I'd have her parents out the door as soon as possible. It's getting to the point where I'd rather just tell them the truth and let them fling mud into my face instead of wasting my time playing peacock for the rest of the sorry weekend."

There is a pause in which he can hear Hange's cogs working.

"I think you're looking at this the wrong way. You could wait the weekend out as you say. But you need to come clean to your lovely wedded wife about what actually happened between you, Eren, and Jean. Knowing her, it'll be better to do that when she's had time to calm down over the phone thing. But you also need to keep your father-in-law away from her so he doesn't spill the beans first. Wait, aren't they in the same room together right now?"

"Her mum is also there. Mikasa's not the type to rope in innocent bystanders for the laughs."

"Right. Anyway, maybe this weekend could be your window of opportunity. You still have the afternoon. Why not take him somewhere nice to make things up?"

"On Christmas day? Everything's closed."

"Not the art museum."

"Great, because he doesn't think I'm gay enough already." Levi snorts. Not that he finds anything wrong with being gay, but it isn't the best front to put on when trying to impress the father of the girl he's secretly married to.

"Who knows? Many a straight man likes Particasso."

"What's that, a squiggly line on a canvas?"

"Only the most famous artist in Paradis!" There is an agonised cry on the other side of the line. "Do I have to educate you in everything, you Philistine? Particasso is a legend. He's famous for painting people's body parts in geometrical shapes, usually circles."

"The old man might be a fan. I've heard firsthand that he sets the noses of some guys the same way." Levi concedes. He thanks Hange and makes to hang up, but an interruptive noise from the latter stops him.

"One more thing, about Eren: Mr. Ackerman might have bought your flimsy story with a generous refund policy, but you should tell Mikasa before it gets back to her."

"You're mad. Have you seen Mikasa when she gets jealous?" Levi hisses. "It's been two years and the specialist at 'Tea Tropes' still screams and hides her face behind the kettle when I walk into the café. I haven't had a decent cup of tea in a café since."

"Why would you have tea in a café anyway? You pay through your nose for a bag of grocery store finest and a cup of hot water."

"That's beside the point. I can't tell Mikasa."

"She's your wife. You're a team."

"And she doesn't need to know about any of this. I've got it." Outside, he hears the general murmur of conversation die down. "Got to split. Talk soon, Hange."

"Wait, Levi - "

But he's already placed them on indefinite mute.

Levi considers Hange's suggestion as he returns to the dining room. As gleeful as they'd been over his misfortunes, they had a good point. He could use the time to score additional brownie points with his father-in-law and keep them within eye's watch so Mikasa couldn't get what she wanted out of him. He cannot imagine Mr. Ackerman with his gruff demeanour and brusque mannerisms finding an afternoon of art fun; still, he is short of inspiration and in desperate need of a break.

He finds the rest of the Ackermans still sitting around the table, the turkey suitably diminished.

"We left you some," Mrs. Ackerman sniffs, "though it is cold now. You might want to heat it up. I would say a few slices would take thirty seconds - "

"I've had enough." Levi cuts in. "I'm sorry this has been more hectic than it should have been. But maybe you'd like to take a trip to the art and anthropology museum? A good friend of mine tells me it's open today."

"Better check yer facts if it's the same friend who gave ye this turkey."

"All good." Levi presses his lips into a curved line with an overall upward trend. "So what about it?"

"I'll stay at home." Mrs. Ackerman says. "I'm sure it would be lovely, but I have a jumper to knit for a friend's newborn and I am very much behind schedule. Mikasa, perhaps you could help me with it?"

"Of course." If she displays any distress at being told to spend more quality time with her mother, Mikasa does not show it. Instead , her face is awash with confidence as she turns to face her father. "I'm guessing you're not keen either dad? Art was never your thing."

"Why not? Might be summat interestin' tuh eyeball there."

Levi blinks, surprised. A side glance at Mikasa tells him she is just as taken aback as he is, and pissed off to boot.

"Great. Once you're done eating we can head over. The museum probably runs reduced hours on Christmas."

A few moments later as Mikasa sees them out, Levi cannot help turning around and asking:

"You sure you can't join us?"

"No she can't." Mrs. Ackerman calls from the living room. "I'd love to spend some quality time with my daughter, and there's nothing that brings us women together than handicraft. Isn't that right?"

"Right." Mikasa says through gritted teeth.

"Don' worry dear," Mr. Ackerman says, giving his daughter a hearty pat on the back, "ye take care o' yer mother an' I'll take care o' Levi, y'hear?" He strides down the porch steps towards the car, and Levi flashes Mikasa a smirk.

"Your old man's finally warming up to me."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." She retorts. Then, in a lower voice, she adds, "One way or other, I'm going to find out what you're hiding."

"You're wasting your energy." He says, then hurries away to join his father-in-law. As he straps himself in, he half-expects Mr. Ackerman's jovial attitude to continue, but not a word is spoken as they pull out of the driveway and make their way down the side roads and onto the highway.

Levi throws a question into the stiff silence.

"Ever heard of Particasso?"

"Sounds like someone who don't work in straight lines."

"Close enough."

The Mitras Museum of Art is a stately building that interrupts the flow of the river splitting Mitras North and Mitras South. Its gothic architecture stands proud above the greying concrete and dimmed glass of the surrounding office blocks, its spires and turrets crowned by shards of multi-coloured glass that echo beams of blues, greens, and reds on a sunny day. Even Levi, as Philistine as he is charged by Hange, admits there is a certain charm to the fusion of medieval and modern elements, a hope that the foundations of the past and the dreams of the future meld together to lend empowerment to the present.

"The museum is really something." He says. Mr. Ackerman squints out of the window, craning his neck to take in its full splendor.

"Nothin' to it. Mikasa coulda made one o' these in her woodwork class as a kid."

What a deadbeat, Levi thinks, rather put out by his father-in-law's dismissive remark. He reconciles the comment with the tenuous notion that Mr. Ackerman is saving his enthusiasm for the works inside.

Yet Mr. Ackerman's mood persists into the front desk, past the Karanes clays exhibit ("Pots ain't useful 'less you can eat or piss in 'em"), to the Yarckel oil paints ("Rascals lookin' fer an excuse tuh waste good animal fat"), and well into the Three Walls mural art exhibit ("Ye'd think they would punish the numbnuts defacing the Walls instead o' praisin' 'em").

"That man should learn how to keep his fat lips shut!" A woman whispers as they pass.

"And his companion - poor guy, having to put up with such miserable commentary."

"At least he's short so the comments can fly over his head."

His cheeks grow warm and sweat threatens at his pores. The humanity, the indignity! He hurries ahead, aiming for the exit to the gallery beyond, and strikes a stark colour contrast as he almost collides into the alabaster nether-alls of a sculpted warrior statue just beyond.

"Can see why ye were runnin' now." Mr. Ackerman grumbles as he squeezes his large body through the doorframe.

"I wasn't - "

But he was, if only to escape the judgement permeating the previous gallery. Taking a step back, he drinks in the sight of the new room. Elaborate, cream-carved walls tower into high ceilings, its circular space interrupted by a large marble column in the center. Light filters in through rectangular windows to alight on myriad sculptures arrested in time around the column. Some stand tall with their shoulders thrown back, others curl into their middles in shame, and some crawl along the floor in a state of tragic pathos. All are naked.

Levi lasts until they are halfway around the room before attempting a brief respite.

"I need the toilet."

He ducks and dives around statue after statue in his quest for that coveted quiet porcelain room. Around the column, someone knocks into him from behind. He whips around, his already fragile temper flaring.

"Hey, watch it - "

No ghost in the nether realm could have given him a greater scare in that moment than the ghoulish face with sunglasses that leers at him from four inches above. A cold, pink handcuff presses into his arm.

"Gah!"

"Levi?"

The smell of stale alcohol overlaying an impotent mint hits him. His leg almost twitches a pace backward before he regains self-control. He glances quickly around the column. When he is satisfied that his father-in-law is still where he'd left him, he swivels his attention back to Eren.

"Aren't you meant to be at home dying from alcohol poisoning?"

"Didn't feel like it."

Levi appraises him.

"At least you can just about stand on two feet without doubling over. But what the hell are you doing here?"

"It was Jean's favourite haunt." Eren scans the murals in the exhibit at the speed of a sober dunce and a drunken layman. "I have to find him."

"Why?"

"I need to make things up to him." He readjusts his sunglasses and curses. "Geez, did they have to make everything in here so bright?"

"I thought you didn't want his attention."

"I came here in the hope of finding him." Eren grabs Levi's shoulders and winces at the sudden movement. "Have you seen him?"

Levi jumps at the violent buzz in the back pocket of his trousers. Eren jumps with him.

"Not as much as I've felt him."

"I didn't know he had an electric rod leading straight to your butt."

"Before you turn so green that someone mistakes you for a groin covering, that was my phone."

"Why's he calling you?"

"Because of our run-in this morning."

"Then you won't mind me using your phone to speak with him."

"Use your own."

"He won't answer my calls. If I make up with him, he'll stop hounding you, and you can make up with Mikasa." Eren holds his hand out and faces Levi with what he imagines is an expectant look.

Levi peers around the column. When he is satisfied that Mr. Ackerman is pre-occupied with the surrounding sculptures, he turns his attention back to Eren.

"No."

"What?" Eren's voice hovers between a low threat and a high-pitched whine. "Come on - don't you want this?"

He does. The temptation to get Jaeger and Kirstein out of his hair and smooth the nest over without anyone knowing better is strong. But there is something about Jaeger's pitiful state - the way he'd willingly gone to church a mess just to escape Kirstein, only to appear in the same state in a museum searching for him like a rejected dog - that irks him.

"This is beneath you. What's Kirstein going to say when you try crawling back to him? I don't know your situation, but there must be some reason why you didn't want to stay with him. You made your decision this morning, so now you have to stick to it."

Eren's mouth scrunches up the way a toddler's would at the sight of over-boiled broccoli before puffing out a sigh.

"Maybe you're right."

"I know it sucks, but I think you're making the right decision. And you should be thanking me. I'm not even trying to shove you back at him to make my own life easier."

"Yeah. So…you're gonna help me, right?"

"Hah?"

Eren jerks his head towards the spot past the column where Mr. Ackerman is presumed to be.

"I saw that sneaky look you stole earlier. He's here with you, isn't he?" He folds his arms at Levi's grudging grunt. "And he must have seen me this morning, otherwise you wouldn't be humouring him at an art museum. Well I suppose it'd be a shame to have missed him at church and pass up the opportunity to say hi now."

"You're still drunk! And you have that abomination around your wrist!"

"Getting over Jean is your idea, and you aren't even gonna help me get rid of these cuffs?"

"Fucking work with me here!"

Mr. Ackerman gravitates into his field of vision like a blazing sun emerging from around the protective shade of the column. Levi grabs Eren's shoulders and twists them around before continuing. He takes a deep breath, willing himself not to grab the loose handcuff and swing Eren into a wall.

"Okay fine, I'll help you get rid of those cuffs, but only if you agree to stay out of the old man's sight."

Eren's clammy hand clasps his.

"You're a good bro when a bro's in need."

"I need to spend time with him for a bit, but make yourself useful. Look around for anything that's long and stiff and pointy - "

"I'm past that stage."

"To pick the lock on your handcuff, you dolt!" Levi's ears burn as he struggles to keep his voice low. "A paperclip, a skewer, anything will do. Look in the cafe, ask about the reception. I'll meet you around there in half an hour. Also..."

"What?"

"Drink a glass of water or two. Do you know how stupid you look with those sunglasses on?"

"R-Right."

Levi's legs burn a fiery rhythm as he pumps them in the direction of the reception. He scans the reception, but finds no sign of Eren. His heart rises in hope at his absence before he catches a mess of brown hair bobbing towards him. One look at Eren's face tells him he is not pleased.

"Still captive, huh?"

"Where the hell were you?"

"Where else could I have been?" Levi growls. "I couldn't shake him off. He dragged me around the room full of half-naked men twice after you left. And the way he was staring at me the whole time! I've received less infatuation from love-starved teenage girls."

"Modest. How'd you get rid of him then?"

"The old toilet excuse. At which point he laughed and said my bladder was more productive than a cow's teat. In fact, that's the first time I've seen him smile this afternoon."

"Yeah?"

"…Yeah. He wouldn't stop griping about every single exhibit, yet he refused to go home when I asked. Which begs the question of why he's spending the afternoon bitching on my dime."

"I did think it was weird how you invited him here. Art and culture was never really his thing."

"It was the only place that was open." Levi gives Eren a pointed look. "Anyway, I'm surprised you haven't found something to free yourself with by now."

Eren snorts.

"The cafe is running India curry theme day. They might as well have declared a war on cutlery."

"And reception?"

"The nice girl from earlier is now a mean old hag."

"Have we been here that long?"

"She even said that she hoped the alcohol in my system was burning out my eyeballs good, the witch!" Eren rubs his forehead with a small sigh. "Well, no dice after all this running around. I guess you can go back to - "

"Wait." Levi hushes him as his ears hone onto a collection of gasps from the gallery opposite the one he and Mr. Ackerman had first entered. He dashes into it, taking a moment to find his bearings as a swarm of multi-coloured geometrical shapes bears down upon him, before making his way to a small display table around which the gaspers are assembled. Drawing closer, he spots two thin needles of steel with pinpoint-sharp ends, and the sight almost takes his breath away.

Their craftsmanship is stunning. Light, easily concealable beneath a sleeve, perfect weapons of stealth that could be whipped out and stabbed into an unsuspecting vein at a moment's whim. His brow furrows as he examines its slender middle. Perhaps they wouldn't be quite right for the job after all, for they might bend on impact instead of piercing all the way through. Or would they?

He kills the itch in his fingers by running them against his coat. Wrong time, wrong job.

Eren peers over his shoulder.

"That looks like it could have been useful."

"Indeed."

"Well I guess not, since it's sealed away tight in a display case." Eren nods at the padlock keeping the wooden lid fastened shut. "And nothing in the world would make them open this."

As if he'd been listening, the museum curator suddenly extracts a key from his pocket and slots it into the lock. The case opens, allowing the other gathered visitors to swarm in on the items. For a moment, they are both flabbergasted, before they realise there is no time to lose. Levi reaches for the needles, but withdraws with a hiss at the sharp and sudden sting against the back of his hand.

"Sir, no touching please." The official voice of the museum curator instructs.

Levi looks along the bench to where the other visitors are manhandling the case's artifacts.

"What gives?"

"This is an exclusive tour of Particasso's latest works."

"I thought he works with paintings."

The museum curator's gaze leaps over his gold-rimmed glasses and skids down his long nose to fix him with a look of disdain.

"And this is his newest foray into miniature tool-making. But it's an exclusive tour, and no one else is allowed to join."

"Can't I sign up now?"

"This is the last viewing for the day, and we're fully booked."

"Sorry, excuse my friend." Eren interjects, pushing up against Levi. "He's a great fan of Particasso, so you have to understand all his questions. We'll sign up for the next tour."

"This is the very last tour we have."

"Oh, is it? Funny."

Levi feels Eren's hands steering him away from the table. He makes a wide turn with the momentum; but in that moment, his foot catches against the curator, and they narrowly avoid stumbling into the table of miniature tools. The wrinkles on the curator's face knit into a hash symbol worthy of a curse word. Levi throws a mean exclamation mark into the foray and lets himself be escorted away by a red-faced Eren.

"And I thought I was the drunkard." Eren berates when they've put enough distance between themselves and the tour.

"Tch. Those needles were perfect."

"Shame it's the last tour they have today. I'll just have wear these cuffs until I get home…"

As Eren speaks, Levi fishes a pair of small needles from his trouser pocket. He flashes them at Eren, and relishes the fish-eyed, slack-jawed expression he receives in return.

"Or maybe you're in luck."

"Wha - h-haha…maybe I am!" Eren gives a nervous chuckle before snapping to attention. "Don't tell me you just stole from the museum in broad daylight?!"

"I did. With fifteen minutes to spare." Levi says, checking his phone. "Seems like I won't need more than an exploding toilet bowl or two to explain my long absence to Mikasa's old man."

"You need to return those!"

"But not before you've made use of them, right?" Levi looks at Eren's face and clicks his tongue. "The way you've been going on all afternoon, I'd almost think you didn't want them removed."

"Well - "

"What the fuck are you doing?" Levi asks coldly.

For despite passing him off mainly as a whiny brat, Levi grudgingly admits that Eren is highly-driven when it comes to helping others and persistent enough to achieve his goals. He remembers the time he and Mikasa went to help Eren out at the soup kitchen the previous Christmas. They'd run out of soup by noon, but instead of closing shop like the others had begged him to do, Eren had instead hounded the neighbouring residents for leftovers during their Christmas lunches. The Eren he knows is a fighter. Yet the Eren standing before him dithers when it comes to helping himself, even when the help was thrust at him like a drunkard at a barmaiden's bosom.

"Where's your strength to fight?"

Eren starts; then, he lets out a small sigh.

"Take a turn with me around the room, won't you?"

"You think I have that time? I have to - "

But Eren has already meandered off to the other side of the vast hall, after which a collective chorus of gasps and fainting from the display table has Levi hurrying after him. They peruse the various paintings as the commotion grows louder.

"Jaeger - "

"He loved Particasso's 'Love of a man'. But it's abhorrent." Eren says suddenly. He regards the painting before them, a man with triangles for eyes, a trapezoid for a nose, and a rectangle for a mouth. The long edge of the last trails from beneath the man's nose to the bottom of the canvas.

"Indeed."

"A face only a mother could love."

Levi grunts.

"But he loved it, because it shows a different side of love. We think of love as a beautiful thing, but here the man's love is all sharp edges. His mouth especially is just a hungry hole with a primal instinct to feed on whatever attention it can get. But I remember he said, that if love were a wholesome thing, that we would grow fat and complacent, never push ourselves to improve the things we love, to make them better than they already are. Jean was so good at that…seeing the beautiful and the ugly sides to everything…"

"Let's go into the neighbouring gallery." He says as he catches the word 'needle' from the opposite side of the hall. To his relief, Eren allows him to steer them into the next gallery. All the while, he keeps his ears strained for any burst of footsteps, any cry of 'Halt!' or some ruder variation. He jumps as a hand taps his shoulder before he realises the tap is only Eren's.

"What?"

"Look there."

He follows Eren's finger to a totem just ahead. It looks like all the others until Levi notices its foot.

"You see that bit of wood there, that's a different colour to the rest? I tripped and chipped that the last time we were here. He took the blame without a word and paid the curator five hundred paradisos in damages. Five hundred! I would die if I ever got that much for a simple wood chip."

"I have one hundred."

Eren glares at him before shaking his head with a grunt of frustration.

"Sorry, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"I'm not here to listen to your emotional drivel. But if you want my two cents, what rubs me the wrong way about this whole thing is the wasted effort. If you liked him so much, then why did you dump him when he came looking for you?"

"You think I'd be moping here if I knew?" Levi feels the cold touch of metal through his coat sleeve and looks down to see Eren holding it almost tenderly.

"Did you still like him this morning?"

"…Yes."

There's too much in that one word for him to doubt Eren's true feelings. Annoyance washes over him at the thought that he'd given up his dignity for an imagined cause, but he lets it slide as a security guard jogs past them in the direction of the Particasso gallery.

"But that wasn't the only thing you felt."

He turns to Eren then, and his jaw almost drops at the sight of the latter almost cradling the cuff around his wrist.

"I've never felt as much as I did then, seeing him this morning. Confused, terrified…thrilled. I've never felt so strongly about any girl before. Or guy, for that matter. I just don't know what to do with all of it."

"Well, figure it out quick. Now let me undo your cuffs - "

"No."

"No what?"

"Don't get rid of them. I - I've figured it out. I need to talk with him again. Till then, these cuffs are my cross…my burden to bear, so to speak."

"Tch. Suit yourself." Levi says, though he is annoyed at the thought of having lied about his sexual orientation and committed a crime for nothing. But Eren's choice is Eren's choice, and so they make another round into the Particasso gallery. As they pass by the display table, he taps the curator's back. The latter looks over as he mops the sweat off his pasty brow.

"I told you, we're not doing any more - "

"I just wanted to point out you dropped something." Levi says. The curator peers down and exclaims at the sight of two needles on the tiled floor.

"That's - wait, how did you…?"

But when he looks up, Levi and Eren have already disappeared into the throng. Levi waits until they are safe in the cafe before turning to Eren.

"I'm guessing you don't need me now - "

But the sudden arrest of his arm, followed by the look of shock on Eren's face, stops him mid-sentence. He turns around and follows Eren's gaze over a series of tables to pause at the sight of a silver-haired youth hunched over a table. The youth rises to his feet. Haggard eyes rimmed dark by sleepless nights gaze towards them.

"Jean." Eren breathes. He turns as if to run, but Levi arrests him with a flick of the wrist.

"This is make it or break it," he hisses, "because I sure as hell am not going to steal two metal sticks for you again."

Then, because Eren looks less than convinced, he frog-marches him over to a haggard-looking Jean.

"Jaeger's got something to say to you."

Eren wrenches his arm from Levi's grasp and opens his mouth, but Jean hushes him before he can even utter a sound.

"I've got something to say, too. So let me speak first, and if you've still got two cents to add, then you can go."

"Well then. I'll - "

"No. Stay. I want someone else to listen, so you can't deny what I've said." Jean says. Levi falls silent with a huff. He doesn't want to stick around for the oncoming storm, but Jean's tone brooks no argument, and Eren looks flightier than a politician caught in a brothel. "I know you're not seeing Levi, especially not after the hernia he displayed at church."

"Hernia my ass!"

"I'm tired. I've put up with all your excuses, your lies. Hell, after Levi's and Mikasa's reception I even stayed the night with you in that stupid hotel with the G-rated minibar - "

"Iced tea is good for hangovers." Levi interrupts again, in part vindicated at having his suspicions confirmed and in part incensed at the idea of the two ingrates hooking up and drinking iced tea on his dime.

" - and you know what the stupidest thing of all is? I still want you because I think what we have is great. So tell me - what's wrong with us?"

"Nothing." Eren blurts out, grabbing Jean's arm. "I owe you the truth - it's the least I can do. I want you, Jean. I want you so bad, like, turn my balls blue bad."

Vomit curdles at the back of Levi's throat.

"But I've never been in a serious relationship before. Mikasa always says I jump into things head first and feet deep without knowing what I'm getting into. I'm…scared that if I get too involved, I might mess up. And I'd rather have blue balls than do something that might h-hurt you."

An uncomfortable silence ensues. Levi clears his throat awkwardly.

"You know, I felt like uncertain about Mikasa once."

"Huh?" Eren and Jean grunt.

"Yeah. We almost called our engagement off because of it."

"She never said." Eren says.

"Well, not we - I. I never told her, either. When we were checking out different wedding venues, we passed by a toy store. There was a hideous green elephant doll in the display. I made some remark about it. And then she said…"

Maybe our kids would remodel it for the better, like I did with Ernie.

Levi doesn't want children. He remembers his own rough childhood: stealing food, stripping down passed out bodies in the alleyways for clothing, fighting in crowded arenas ringed by stiff trenchcoats with wads of cash to splash over spilt blood. And if he didn't perform, he would feel the harsh sting of a whip on his back at day end for not earning enough. In the end, he took matters into his own hands by incapacitating Kenny with two bottles of stolen wine, and made off with the cash in his hat. He doesn't blame Kenny for his upbringing. Adults are only humans after all, and humans fuck up. But now he is the adult. And if the child were his, he would be the facilitator of its crimes. Its vices. Its demons.

Suddenly, he forgets why he is saying any of this. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around the metal frame of the chair that persists in every museum and bistro ever, leaning on it for support.

"You know what, forget it."

"You still came here." Jean says, and Levi grunts at the realisation that they have already forgotten about him.

"I couldn't live knowing you thought badly of me." Eren's voice breaks.

Jean reaches over and removes Eren's sunglasses, revealing brown eyes that brim hot with tears.

"Eren…are you…"

"The light. It hurts." Eren rasps. Jean hastily replaces the sunglasses.

"Right. Sorry. I just…did you mean what you said?"

Eren locks lips with Jean in a passionate kiss. When they part, Jean looks triumphant, but flushed, and Eren, almost giddy. Ears burning, Levi checks his phone. He curses. Nothing short of an exploding toilet bowl or two would explain his prolonged absence to Mr. Ackerman.

"Are you two finished yet?"

"Yeah." Jean says. He takes Eren's hand and fishes a key from his pocket. In one swift motion, he slides the key in, letting the cuffs fall into his outstretched hand. "But I'm not forgetting what you did. The next time you lay a finger on Eren, you're toast."

"Keep a better hold on him and we won't have a problem." Levi says. "So, we good?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Levi pulls away in relief, but a sudden resistance against his wrist has him blinking in confusion. Realisation dawns on him at the sight of a pink-furred handcuff clasped tight around his wrist, while the other jangles merrily against the metal frame of the chair.

"You're not the only one who's good at sleight of hand." Jean grins, pocketing the key. "You know, pink really does look good on you. Almost as good as it does on Eren."

"Hey, I'm not the one who chose those cuffs." Eren says, colouring.

"You're so flustered you almost make me blush."

"Hey, pay attention over here. Uncuff me, now!"

"Don't look back." Jean tells a startled Eren as they make for the exit.

"But he helped me realise my feelings for you."

"He's still a dick for agreeing to your stupid plan."

"Kirstein - Jaeger - Jaeger, you owe me!" Levi roars, barely registering the startled looks and the noisy scrape of the chair as he drags it over friction-full tiles. But as he watches the backs of the retreating couple, he knows he cannot catch up to them, and contents himself with a howl of frustration.

"How dare you use me and then leave me like this! I won't stand for this, Jaeger, you're going to pay for what you did to me - "

"What the devil are ye doin', boy?" A voice rumbles from the opposite entrance. He doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. It must be none other than his father-in-law, likely come after his prolonged absence in search of him. Or perhaps he'd initially been searching for a snack. Whichever it is, Levi decides, it is moot. For given the circumstances, he and the snack are now one and the same.

At least this time he doesn't need to pretend, as he unleashes a stream of expletives so varied and colourful that its successful interpretation would have taken no less than the scholarly lifetime study of an entire gang of mobsters.

A/N: Yes, Particasso is based on exactly who you think he's based on.