"So you let him touch your boobs and then he asked you to be his girlfriend?"

Armin had no time to dodge Mikasa's repeated attacks, a flurry of strikes sent hurling towards him with a foaming passion as she hit him with her backpack. He laughed at the heated gesture, watching her face burn red, a look of horror sharply crossing her eyes.

"She the fuck up, Armin!" she fumed, continuing to swing at him. "Why are you so fucking loud!"

Ducking her advances, he set his Gameboy down on the field of grass where they rested in the quad, and his smile was bright and dripping with amusement, watching her get so flustered. They had finished their classes for the day that Wednesday afternoon, and Mikasa insisted on telling him the events of the previous night, when she and Eren finally became an item.

She looked very pretty and flushed sitting on the grass with her usual sweater and sweats combo, the shimmer of the sun enhancing the dewy shade of her skin, her eyes sparkling a sterling grey. It had been a long time since he had seen her this excited. How she recanted every grueling detail to him, it was very entertaining listening to her describe everything, seemingly reliving it while the words slipped from her mouth.

He felt the backpack smack against his shoulder blades one more time before she relented, burying her face in her palms and letting out a mortified wail. It lingered in her throat for dramatization, and her high ponytail bobbed from the impact as she hunched her back forward.

"What are you so embarrassed about?" he teased, shoving her shoulder playfully. "Sounds like you enjoyed everything that happened. Though, coming spontaneously from kegels might have been a bit much—"

He barely finished the sentence when she pounded the back of her hand against his head, and he chuckled, his smile wide and vibrant as it consumed half of his face.

When he felt a light, chill breeze swivel past them, he pulled down the sleeves of his navy-blue sweater, bringing his knees towards his chest as he picked up his pocket-sized game. The sound emitting from it had been muted on the grass, and now it was livelier, the digitized melody floating around them.

She gave him a peculiar look as she scooted herself closer, peering over his shoulder. "What are you playing?"

He fidgeted with several buttons for a moment, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, before answering her. "Pokémon. The red one."

Her felt her looming over him, her eyes squinting as she stared at the dimly lit screen. "People are still playing that?" Before he realized it, she took the game from him.

"What are you talking about? It only came out last year."

He reached for the device, but she shifted onto her stomach, legs curling towards her bum.

"No…this is the exact same game," she thought aloud, her brows sewn in concentration. "Armin, this game came out like three years ago. Also why the fuck would you pick Fushigidane as your starter?"

She yelped when he tugged at her ponytail, forcing the Gameboy from her grasp. "This only came out last year, Mikasa." Then, lowering the volume until it was a dull melody, he narrowed his eyes. "And what the hell is a See-gi-dan…?"

He watched her curiously as she lifted herself to sit on her knees, tightening her tail. Her fist was slender, fingers curling around the thick circumference of hair. "My cousins brought this from Japan as a graduation gift. I played the game during summer break senior year."

She didn't notice his wide eyed, mouth agape, distressed gawk right away. She observed him from the corner of her vision, finally catching the wild glisten of his eyes, how the blue began to smolder, the white in them swirling like clouds preparing for a storm. He was in absolute disbelief at her words, that he dropped the handheld onto the grass, grappling her shoulders gently. She felt petite, yet sturdy, a delicate squish to her skin as he squeezed.

"You've known about this all this time and you didn't tell me? Why didn't you show me the game?"

She blinked twice, her gaze towards him blank. "Because you can't read Japanese?" And she shrugged him off, a generous roll to her eyes. "Besides, it wasn't that great anyway. Average at best."

He wanted to declare her words blasphemy, scold her for her uneducated views on one of the most popular games currently in the market. But when the shade of a shadow darkened his sight, he sighed, his eyes lifting to see a familiar form crouch down beside her, then scooping her into an embrace.

Armin counted all the douchebag red flags all in one go. The beloved conch shell necklace. The bandana. Was that a beeper clipped to his belt? It looked new, he hadn't noticed that the other week at the bar. The button up shirt, sans the few top buttons. His jacket loose and not even zipped, more like a fashion statement than something to keep warm. And the icing on the cake was when he sat by Mikasa, pulling out a green vial of Binaca spray and shooting a mist into his mouth, dropping his backpack on the ground beside them.

And he stared at them, his hand slowly creeping back towards the Gameboy. He really wanted to keep to himself, to avert his gaze, but it was such an…interesting sight. Mikasa was really, very much, attracted to this tool. And this tool, in return, was very very much into her.

The kissing and the hugging and the "oooooh Eren," it was all too much, and being a third wheel was more awkward than he ever imagined it would be.

Perhaps she felt it, or noticed the elongated stretch of his neck, the shuffling of his glances. Something forced her to pull away from the public display of affection long enough to turn to Armin, clearing her throat loudly.

"Eren, this is Armin. You guys haven't really met yet."

He didn't know how to interpret the sharp cross of their eyes, green and blue bombarding the other in unspoken combat. But he smiled pleasantly, returning the gesture of his best friend's boyfriend and accepting the overly firm handshake.

"Hey, what's up," Eren spoke very pleasantly, nodding towards him.

Armin lifted his brows. "Nice meeting you."

Mikasa sat between them, throwing uncomfortable glances both their ways. And she laughed nervously, manually separating their fists. Eren reached into his backpack then, shuffling through a few books before pulling out a black zigzag headband.

"You forgot this, babe," he said, handing the hair accessory to her. Her face flushed with speckles of red, and Armin could see both their sleeves lift as they made the exchange. They were wearing matching name bracelets. This was beginning to get nauseating.

"Also," he continued, flashing the black beeper perched on his hip. "I bought this pager. So I'll give you the number and you can call it anytime you want and leave me a message. You can dial your number or leave me a voicemail. I'll run to the nearest payphone to listen to it."

When he unclipped it and handed it to Mikasa, she observed the small device in between her index finger and thumb, flicking over the Motorola logo. She smiled gently, brushing her shoulder against his. "Did you get this just because of me?"

When his arm curled around her low back, she reacted to the embrace abruptly, her leg folding against his. "I just like the sound of your voice. I want to be able to hear it all the time."

Mikasa was very much moved by his comment, that she cupped his cheeks in her palms, kissing him on the mouth. He saw Eren's lips curve against the gesture, pulling her closer to him. And yes, it was very cute, very endearing how affectionate and doting they were. It was nice to see Mikasa so happy and content, with someone who seemed equally interested in her.

Yet, somehow, it irked him watching them, that he could feel a twitch at the arch of his brow, the short dark blonde strands lifted and erect. So he acted as a proper third wheel, picking up his game and raising the volume, his focus very absent as he attempted to separate himself from the situation.

The melody chirping from the device must have been very distinct, that Eren's eyes opened and he nearly climbed over Mikasa to get a peak at the tiny monochrome screen. He could hear her grunt, falling onto her elbows.

"Hey, is that Pokémon?"

Eren swiftly clipped the pager back onto his belt, shifting now so he could sit between Armin and Mikasa. He was looking over his shoulder like a doe eyed child, watching as the screen flickered and the familiar noise signaling a trainer battle rattled the speakers.

At his interest, Armin glanced at him briefly, a slight nod to his head. "Yea, it is."

"Who's your starter?"

"Bulbasaur."

Mikasa sat forward, though ignoring the both of them while she took her headband and shoved it into her bag. "That's not what it's called."

Neither of them acknowledged her comment. Eren was so concentrated on the gameplay, it was almost as if he forgot she was even there. Armin could smell the mint of his breath spray, as well as the heaviness of his cologne. The scent was distinctly Calvin Klein, but instead of one squirt it smelled like he plastered it all over his body. Also whatever tea tree product he had in his hair was another aroma mixed in the fragrant concoction.

"How many badges have you gotten?"

Was Eren really such a Pokémon enthusiast? Armin sucked his lips in, his fingers expertly maneuvering the buttons on the system. "Just one. I bought this last weekend so I haven't had much time to play it."

Eren was sitting beside him now, shoulder to shoulder, legs extended comfortably.

"What other games do you have on the Gameboy?"

Armin paused the game, scratching at the buzzed hair of his undercut for a moment. It was bizarre how casual this was, as if they had been friends for a long time, bonding over something as stupid as a video game.

"I have a couple, like Mario Land and Tetris. But I have more stuff on my N-sixty-four."

He saw a visible spark in Eren's eyes, how his posture straightened, the pink and purple Mikasa bracelet flashing on his wrist as he clutched Armin's shoulder. "You have a Nintendo sixty-four?"

It was almost wildly intimate how Eren was staring at him then, his gaze sharp and piercing into him. It was striking, how easily he seemed to pull people in with his intensity. And he could see how Mikasa could find him attractive and feel so connected to him in such a short period of time. Something about his aura was very alluring. It was hard to resist.

Armin tried to fight the urge to smile, his lips squirming about his face. "Yea, I do."

Mikasa made her grand reappearance then, planting herself against Eren, her cheek nuzzled on the side of his neck. They did make a cute couple, the shade of her skin a milky contrast against his medium olive complexion. His brown hair to her pure black locks, even the vibrancy of his eyes, so big and distracting in their deep, bright green. They paired well with her ethnic shape and more subdued hue. "You guys should go play. You live in the same building."

And the gleam in his eyes then was hopeful, as if this would really mean a lot to him. Did Eren not have many friends? Was he the loner type? He didn't seem like it; Armin would think he had a lot of friends, people constantly surrounding him.

He gulped then, though it went down painfully and did nothing to relieve the drought of his throat. "Yea, sure. Why not?"

~oOo~

"I don't get it," Eren exclaimed, throwing the controller onto the carpet in aggravation. Seated on the floor, back pressed against the bedpost, he folded a leg into his chest, the metal of his Fossil watch reflecting pieces of the dorm's décor. His sleeves were folded up to his elbows, the fabric of his white shirt crinkling at the joints.

"How do you keep beating me as Kirby?"

Armin grinned triumphantly, settled backwards on his chair, straddling the seat as he leaned forward, the large and grey M-shaped controller held loosely in his grasp. "I'm telling you, Kirby is the ultimate Smash character."

But Eren was reluctant, restarting the game as he clutched controller, holding the pads firmly with both hands. "No way. Mario is supposed to be the best. He's the fucking mascot."

He took a moment to realign the brown and white bandana on his head, the fabric secure around his scalp and pulling his hair away from his face.

Armin's glare shifted from him then, to the digital clock by his bedside. They had been playing this game for two hours already. Didn't Eren just get here? It was wild how quickly the time had passed. And they seemed to be getting along well.

"Let's go again," Eren declared, straightening his posture. "I'll pick someone else this time."

"Just pick Kirby. It's the only way you'll stand a chance."

They continued to play, a comforting silence between them as the game's sound effects blared through the speaker of his TV, the black chunky receiver resting on a low dresser. Their fingers were frantic against the controls, gazes intense, teeth slicing their lower lips.

And Armin wondered, was this friendship? Would he, Eren, and Mikasa become some sort of a trio? Would this make him less of a third wheel? It wasn't a horrible thought, being friends with Eren. Once he got past the douchey exterior, he wasn't so bad.

Perhaps they would have developed a companionship, becoming allies brought together from the joys of video gaming and their other mutual interest: Mikasa. It was a possibility. That is, until Armin remembered there was one more interested party of the beautiful ethnic dancer.

"Yo, Armin, could I borrow your car this weekend, I—"

They had barely heard the brief jumbling of the keys when the knob turned and Jean walked into the room. Armin was prepared to greet his roommate, introduce him to Eren, go through all the normal motions. But the instant they spotted each other, Armin could physically feel the vehement tension launch between them.

It was almost violent, the green of Eren's eyes darkening, shooting towards the dull brown of Jean's. Their glares were like a bloodbath, an unspoken battle. It was bewildering watching them, how Eren pushed himself up to face him, Jean's bag slipping from his shoulder and landing on the floor as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Jaeger?"

"Horseface?"

They were both very tall, standing a little over six feet and at equal height. While Eren's look was definitely more preppy, Jean was dressed for his internship at an advertising agency. His dark blazer was stiff against his shoulders, light brown hair slicked down and face cloaked in a thin layer of a five o'clock shadow.

Armin looked between them, carefully dropping his controller and heaving a sigh. Resting his face against his forearms over the top of the chair, he commented flatly, "I'm guessing you two know each other?"

"Eren Jaeger, douchebag extraordinaire," Jean proclaimed with a thick voice, pointing a finger directly at him before looking at Armin accusatorily. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Eren chocked a laugh, however, plopping himself down onto the edge of Armin's bed as his arms furled over his chest. "Jean Horseface Kirstein. Marley High's own girlfriend thief." His smirked eased off of his face then, his fists clutching at the sheets of the neatly made bed. Armin could see every crinkle pressed onto the fabric. "What's he doing here?"

Armin's eyes flickered between them, and he exhaled, long and extended, straightening his back, his gaze narrow.

He focused on Jean. "Eren is Mikasa's new boyfriend." No time to absorb the reaction, he looked at Eren. "Jean is my roommate."

Jean shook his head, refusing to believe his words as he approached the chair lividly. "There is no way Mikasa is dating this fucking tool."

"I'm the tool? Don't you have somebody's girlfriend to steal? Or are you only interested in mine?"

Now things were getting heated, and mildly entertaining. Watching them go at it in the small room was dreadfully uncomfortable but it was so beautifully tragic Armin could not look away.

Jean grunted at the accusation, removing his blazer to reveal a white button-up almost identical to Eren's. One would have thought he was preparing himself for a physical altercation, but Armin knew he just didn't want to wrinkle his suit from his exaggerated arm movements.

"For fuck's sake, Jaeger," he countered, slapping his palm against his forehead. "I didn't steal your fucking girlfriend. You cheated on her and she came to me because she was heartbroken."

But Eren was shaking his head in rabid disagreement, a scowl cursing his mouth, grabbing a large fistful of bedsheet, totally ruining the perfection of the thoughtfully made bed. Armin sighed, realizing he was once again a third wheel to this bizarre exchange.

"I didn't cheat on her, for the millionth time. Stacy Thompson kissed me behind the bleachers! I wasn't cheating on Laila!"

Who were these people? Were they really still fighting over something that happened in high school? Over a girl neither had interest in anymore?

"I swear to God, Eren, if you hurt Mikasa—"

"What's your deal with Mikasa? You trying to take her too?"

It was interesting observing the conversation switch from this random girl then to Mikasa, and how much more fervent they became, both men very protective and possessive of her in their own quaint fashion.

"Mikasa is not like these other trash girls you mess with, Eren." Jean approached him directly then, his posture firm and dripping with authority, that Eren remained seated, implanted onto the mattress, his gaze falling low.

"Of course she's not. Don't you think I know that? She's different."

It was the way his brows pressed together when he spoke the word, a sort of anguish laced in his expression, how his voice fell, a moment of tenderness spilling from him. How he absentmindedly began to fumble with the bead bracelet snapped against his wrist, a glaze to his eyes as if an image of her passed through him. The slight hunch to his back, the shifting of his jaw. With all these little gestures, Armin came to his conclusion.

Mikasa really was different to Eren Jaeger.

~oOo~

Mikasa had recorded and deleted three messages she left for Eren on his pager that evening.

Each one was worse than the last, and she found herself curled on the floor beside her bed, her hair loose and falling in front of her face as she sat there, defeated, clutching the landline phone in her hand.

Her eyes followed the colorful wires revealed through the clear plastic casing, her lips so compressed she could feel them turn blue. She glared at the number he had written for her on a piece of notebook paper and dialed again.

When the automated message hummed against her ear, she decided she would stop overthinking her words to him, that she would just act natural and say whatever she was feeling from her heart. Pressing the bottoms of her feet together, she eased into her more relaxed posture, clearing her throat as the beep urged her to speak.

"Hi Eren, it's me, Mikasa. I just wanted to say hi, and that I miss you already. And I hope you're having a really nice day and I can't wait to see you again. So I'll talk to you later. Call me back when you get this, I like hearing your voice too."

~oOo~

Mid October 1999, Paradis University

It was the week after midterms when Mikasa became a mother.

She had not intended for it to happen, and it only seemed like a regular Saturday afternoon when she and Armin had gone to get coffee. They sat in silence for a long time, and despite midterms just concluding, Armin was already wrapped in his textbook and engaged in the next lesson.

"I got a job at the College of Environment's office," he said aloud, his eyes leaving his book briefly to glance towards her. She could see the ocean in his eyes, always so deep and bright and very inviting.

"So I'll be busier during the week," he continued. "But I'll still try to work out with you."

She didn't know why she felt disappointed by the news, that she took a sip of her tea very slowly, delaying her response. The sleeves of her sweater were pulled past her knuckles, and she tucked her chin within the turtleneck. "What will you be doing there?"

She saw the small smile that crossed his lips, his hand moving fluidly as he wrote in the notebook pressed against the text. "Probably just my homework. Department tours. Boring stuff."

The steam flowing towards her face from her tea was warm and calming, and when she crossed her legs then, her knee hit the underside of the small, round table. It caused a small rumble, to which Armin looked up at her, a lift to his brows.

"You'll still see me. It's not the end of the world." A curve of interest took his lips, as he closed the book and leaned back against his chair. His flannel shirt was a mixture of red and purple lines, fitting his form loosely while a thin white tee shirt peeked through from underneath. And he ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, slicking it back and away from his face.

"Maybe I should get a beeper too, you think?"

He laughed only briefly before Mikasa kicked him in the shin, forcing him to hunch forward onto the glossed wooden surface, his expression morphing into a brisk wince. Yet a morsel of his amusement still lingered on his mouth.

"It would be a waste of money. No one would page you," she said to him crossly. Then as discreetly as possible, she reached into her shoulder bag, her hand rummaging briefly until she felt the cold metal of a pocket mirror. She pulled it out carefully, placing it onto the table and analyzing her reflection. The volume of her hair remained intact, when she had struggled with a blow dryer and round brush earlier that day, and the little makeup she had worn hadn't yet smudged.

"So you guys are going on a date tonight?"

Her eyes lifted to see him sipping from his coffee meticulously, his arm thrown behind his chair. He lifted one blonde brow.

Briskly, she shoved the mirror back into her purse, the skin of her cheeks darkening into a faint crimson. "We always go on dates."

And Armin continued to drink, slowly, his eyes following her movements, from the uncomfortable shuffling of her hands, how she briefly sucked in her lips. He was so perceptive of her, always able to sense her lingering anxiety despite how much she tried to control it.

"So what do you and Eren do…" He paused. "On your dates?"

He gave her a knowing look, and she squinted. "Is this your way of asking if we slept together yet?"

He only shrugged his shoulders however, averting her gaze. "You said it, not me."

"It's none of your business," she shot back quietly, pulling her sleeves completely over her fingers now, so that the fabric was stretched out. Her lips extended into a pout. "But you know if we did, I would have told you. I tell you everything."

And Armin nodded, languidly, taking his books and placing them neatly into his backpack. "I know. I'm just wondering. It's been like five weeks? And you haven't done anything yet."

Her blushed deepened until the majority of her face was painted red. She had not expected Armin to ask such a personal question of her. It was almost unlike him. And she waited for him to continue, watching him inwardly search for the words he wanted to say without crossing a line.

"Is it because…you're nervous…or, you don't trust him?"

Their eyes connected like the forceful pull of magnets, and she was unable to look away, to distract herself from the conversation, to focus on anything other than him and the intensity he projected onto her. Her expression softened, her back slumped while she felt herself slither lower into her seat, her jeans slipping against the glossy wood.

"I'm not like you guys," she admitted softly, and she leaned her torso forward onto the table so she could speak to him more directly, with some discretion. "I can't just do that. It takes a lot out of me emotionally."

A thick lock of hair draped over her shoulder in a voluminous bounce, and Armin smiled gently then, reaching towards her and placing a palm over her floppy sleeve. "As long as your happy, and careful. It's not a bad thing to wait. I'm surprised he is holding out so long, to be honest."

"Well," she said, lifting the arch of her brow, "he has no choice."

They had meant to part ways after leaving the coffee shop, that they would walk back to campus together before separating. But that day, Mikasa became a mother. She hadn't anticipated it, or wanted it. The responsibility was just thrust upon her, suddenly, unexpectedly. Or, she made the situation her responsibility, and in the end, she had no choice. She had already fallen in love.

They had heard a painful yelp when they walked past an alley. The sound was high-pitched and distressing, and Mikasa pulled Armin towards the narrow passage without thinking another thought, her fingers clamped around his wrist, her legs moving swiftly.

And she stiffened upon finding the source, seeing a small dog lingering towards a dumpster. He was trembling, his eyes wet and dripping with an array of emotion as he huddled against the red bricks of the wall behind him. His ears were heavy and flopped downwards.

Armin was the first to respond, crouching towards the poor animal, petting the top of his head. His fur was thick, yet dirty, off-white with black splotches. He had a cute little mane, like a tiny lion.

"He's not wearing a collar," he noticed, his fingers rubbing against the underside of the dog's chin. "I think he's homeless."

Mikasa felt a wave of uncried tears course her eyes, the sensation burning, and she fell to her knees, her jacket swishing against the concrete as she scooped the dog into her embrace. His smell was foul, though not a horribly strong odor, and she noticed how quickly his tail wagged, the hair that covered it long and overgrown.

"This poor little guy is hungry." She noticed the steep hollowness of his belly, and he seemed to be crying as she held him, as if it was the first time in a while someone had shown him any form of kindness. And she didn't care how dirty he was, she hugged him against her, squinting at the gross, wet licks he lapped across her cheek.

She looked at Armin, her expression bright and hopeful, and he sighed in return. "We aren't going home now, are we?"

She shook her head in one swift, fluid motion,

They managed it to make it to the veterinary clinic before it closed, seated beside one another in the waiting room. The dog sat perched on Mikasa's lap, spread on her comfortably, his little feet pressed together in front of his face. Her fingers moved along his fur, petting him in a slow rhythmic motion. He was very calm in her embrace, and she was surprised how sweet and quiet he was. This was probably the most well-behaved dog she had ever met.

Armin glanced towards her, sinking into his jacket, his smile a mixture of amusement and concern. "This is insane."

She didn't reply. "What's your plan after he sees a doctor?"

He leaned forward then, his legs spread apart while his forearms rested on his knees. "You don't need to answer. I already know what you're thinking. It's fucking insane."

And he was correct. She was out of her mind. But the dog had already decided he liked her and declared her his protector. What was she supposed to do after the vet examined him, saying he seemed otherwise healthy, just malnourished? How was she supposed to take the news when she was told the dog appeared to be at least five years old and must have been abandoned in the streets recently? He was neutered, but lacking a microchip. It was as if he didn't exist in this world, almost like he didn't matter. But he did matter. To her. His sweet little life meant something. He wasn't born to rot away in the street, with no one to love or care for him.

"Do the blood test and give him his shots. I'll give you my contact information."

And an hour later they were standing in the dog food aisle at the pet store, staring blankly at the multitude of feeding variety, because they had no idea what they were doing.

"This is borderline psychotic, Mikasa."

Armin was holding the dog. No, he was holding Jax. Mikasa had named him rather quickly, as if she was letting the thought simmer in her head in the waiting room. He bounced him like a baby, because he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. He never had a dog before, didn't expect to sort of co-parent one spontaneously. The day was otherwise very normal until Mikasa decided she wanted to rescue a stray. And now they were shopping for pet supplies like an old married couple.

Mikasa seemed to pick a small bag of food at random, still too heavy for her, trying to balance it against her belly. "I got this, Armin. I'll figure it out."

But he was watching her with narrowed eyes, the skin around his nose wrinkling. "Levi is not going to let you keep him in the dorm."

She was purposely avoiding his stare, doing everything in her power not to look at him. "I'll leave him with my grandparents."

"You're sure they'll take him?"

Somehow she managed to hold the dog food with one arm, secured against her elbow, leading them towards another aisle. The low heel of her boots clacked against the tile, and finally she gave Armin one stern, pleading look, a very steep tenderness laced in her eyes.

"I can't leave him, Armin. I have to at least try."

And he seemed to repent then, his lips pursed, fighting the urge to talk sense into her. And when they left the store, Jax was graced with a shiny new collar, his rabies tag slinging in the center. Armin held onto the leash they bought him, and Mikasa observed how well he walked, like such a good boy. He was going at a steady pace, not too easily distracted and staying close to them. She decided he was the best dog ever. The best boy. Whoever abandoned him was maybe the worst person in the world.

When they made it to her building, Armin handed the leash to Mikasa, and she struggled to grasp it. Holding the dog food became painful, and she tried leaning it against her hip, but it wasn't helping alleviate the tension in her shoulders. But she forced the strength and took the leash, a glimmer of determination crossing her face. Her lips pressed in a straight line, her brows firm. She was going to save this little dog.

"Well…good luck," he quipped, and she couldn't really catch the intended tone of his words.

She snuck him in the building with little distraction, besides a few troubled stares. Yet no one dared confront her, and she and Jax made it successfully to the elevator, alone. He sat patiently for the short ride, and when she approached her door after walking through the tight corridor, she finally was able to drop the bag, letting out an exasperated sigh as she stretched her arm. A smaller shopping bag dangled from her elbow, falling towards her shoulder. It took her a minute to fish out her keys.

Yet, when she opened the door, she was surprised to find Sasha lying on her bed, flipping through an issue of Tiger Beat magazine. She was dressed very comfortably, complete in a matching pajama set and fuzzy socks, her hair thrown about her shoulders and face void of makeup.

Mikasa hesitated at the door, leaving it half way open, and when Sasha shifted her gaze towards her, she smiled briefly before returning her attention to her celebrity gossip. "Hey Mikasa."

She remained at the entrance, blocking a very curious Jax with her leg. She felt an inner panic boil within her, a bead of sweat sizzling on her forehead, while she leaned against the doorway as casually as possible. The gesture was awkward, almost unnatural.

"Hey…Sasha. What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at Nicolo's?"

She turned a page then, shrugging her shoulders. "I was, but he's still working on his big cooking project and I didn't want to get in the way."

Mikasa laughed, strangely, nervously, the way a guilty person accused of murder would laugh. "But doesn't he need a taster for his project? You love his cooking."

She saw the shortening of her eyes then, when she closed the magazine and rested it onto her messy pink sheets. When she rose from the bed, the floor creaked as she stepped towards her, stopping halfway while her arms folded across her chest.

"Why are you standing at the door?"

Mikasa looked about the room, pressing her forearm at the entryway, crossing her leg and trying to look cool, calculated. "I'm just…admiring your pajamas. They are really cute. I like the little care bears on them."

But Sasha was not impressed, marching towards her and attempting to push past, but despite her thin frame, Mikasa was very strong and her body was almost as hard as concrete as she clenched every muscle she could control to keep Sasha from getting through.

"What's behind the door, Ackerman?"

She stuttered. What the fuck was she doing? Sasha was going to find out and the dog was already right there, standing behind her. But Jax seemed to grow impassionate at the sound of Sasha's perky voice, that he dashed past Mikasa's legs, the length of the leash wrapping around one of her ankles. And she stumbled inside with Jax, struggling to unravel her bind.

"Oh my god!" Sasha squeaked, an enamored grin consuming half her face as she unclipped the leash from his collar. Jax immediately ran to her grasp, jumping into her arms as she crawled onto the floor and clutched him desperately against her chest. "A dog!"

Mikasa took the moment of distraction to drag the bag of food inside, shutting the door before they roused any more attention. When she heard the frantic sobs wailing out of Sasha's mouth, she looked down to see her sprawled on the floor, Jax planting an array of affectionate licks across her chin and neck.

"I love him. I love him so much," she wept, a stream of tears staining her cheeks. She was cradling him in her arms now, her hold on him tight and unrelenting. It was a bizarre sight, that Mikasa stood for a while, removing her jacket and draping it over the back of her desk chair.

"Armin and I found him in an alleyway," she explained, scratching the top of her head. "I named him Jax."

At this revelation, Sasha cried harder, nuzzling his face against her cheek. "Jax, I love you, Jax. Sweet little angel Jax. Good baby boy Jax."

This continued on for a few more minutes before Jax tried to break free of her grip, and Sasha dropped him carefully onto the floor. Slowly he walked around the room, sniffing the carpet, becoming familiar with his new surroundings. His little black nose twitched, his sniffs audible and sharp, and he found a place on the floor he liked, rubbing his neck along the fibers until he was rolling around on his back, nestling himself into the ground.

Mikasa and Sasha both sighed affectionately at the sight, Sasha clutching at her chest. "Mikasa, are we keeping him? Your uncle said it's okay?"

And here she faltered, taking a seat at the edge of her bed, her fists collected in her lap. "I haven't talked to him about it yet."

The look Sasha shot her was laced with unease, standing from the floor to tower over Mikasa's seated form. Her palms rested on her hips in a very domineering stance, a thinly plucked brow elevated and locked in place.

"What's your plan? We can't hide him here. People are going to see. I'm sure enough noticed already." She looked over at Jax then, who was lying on his side now, taking an impromptu nap.

"Also, he's really dirty and gross. He needs a bath."

Mikasa pointed to the plastic bag thrown on the floor next to the dog food, her index finger weakly extended. "I bought him some shampoo."

Sasha took initiative, picking up the bag and removing the small bottle from inside. "So…" Their eyes locked then, a strange tension passing between them. "How are we supposed to do this?"

Mikasa sat back against her palms, fingers curling around her comforter. She hadn't even thought about that. Their floor had a communal bathroom, with nothing but shower stalls. How were they going to wash him?

They carried out the plan in phases. First, Sasha checked the bathroom, making sure it was clear of lingering eyes. When she gave authorization, they grabbed the dog shampoo and several towels. With one of them, they wrapped Jax until he was completely concealed and swaddled, his little face poking from the disguise. And they scurried to the bathroom, scampering into one of the stalls.

They stripped down to nothing, turning on the shower and letting the water fall onto them. It was instantly warm, and shot out from the faucet very suddenly. The moment he felt the water touch him, Jax tried to run, but Mikasa caught him, holding him down as he quickly became drenched.

Biting her bottom lip in concentration, Sasha squeezed an ample amount of shampoo on him, lathering it all over his fur, her naked form squatted. A muddy stream of water cascaded from his little body, and he stood there anxiously, very still and with his wide trembling eyes as they washed him.

A smile tugged at Sasha's lips as she used her thumb to rub soap into the stained corners of his eyes, massaging his cheeks and behind his ears. Water was flowing down her body almost sensuously, her hair completely soaked, nipples perked from the cool draft of air grazing them.

And Mikasa was an equal mess. Her blowout was completely obliterated, hair drenched and pasted to her back. Mascara drizzled down her face in straight lines, drops of water decorating her naked body, her breasts springing from every sudden movement as she held onto the dog, who had begun to get more stubborn.

He released one long, frenzied shake, shimmying his small body and discharging the wetness that had settled in his fur. The water furled towards both of them like a sprinkler, that they attempted to dodge the attack, giggling and gasping and just forgetting that they were in a public restroom.

Mikasa could only imagine what they sounded like in that stall. And if Connie or Armin knew that that they were showering together, their perversions would know no bounds.

Their operation was successful, and Sasha dressed back into her pajamas, a towel wrapped around her head, as she dried off Jax, rubbing at his fur earnestly. Mikasa opted for a robe, now questioning what she would wear. She still had to see Eren later, and her hair was ruined, outfit dirtied, make-up washed clean off.

With heavy anxiety she sat at her desk, her legs crossed as she tapped her foot against the carpet. She found herself rubbing at her forehead, trying to think this through, something she had neglected to do since the moment she found him.

"We have to get behind your ears nice and dry, Jax," Sasha gushed, a flurry of giggles oozing out her mouth as she rubbed the towel against the dog's neck. He seemed to be smiling, breathing with his mouth open, his round black eyes large and vibrant.

It warmed her heart watching them, how easily Sasha fell in love with this tiny animal. And she thought back to the pet store, Armin holding Jax, helping her at the vet and buying his supplies. It felt like the dog was connecting them, bringing them all together. He was her family now. And she decided then and there, she couldn't live without him.

The clangor of a slow calculated knock at the door interrupted their domestic bliss.

Sasha shot her a very vivid glance, the brown in her eyes stiffening as she took Jax and held him close to her. Her feet dragging along the floor like cement, Mikasa's hand hovered over the knob. She could feel her trepid pulse, twitching against her wrist. Her breath faltered, holding onto her inhale, and when she opened the door, that gust of air evaporated in her gut.

He stood a few inches shorter than her, but his presence was always so massive and intimidating, that she felt herself shrink, melting into her robe. His eyes were slender as he looked her over, fists stuffed into the pockets of his zipped jacket. There was a shine that gleamed over the gloss of his black hair.

"Hello, niece," he chimed with a steady, unreadable voice.

She stammered. "Um…hi." And she laughed, rubbing at her temple. "What brings you here?"

She was expecting his sigh, the spasm that rumbled between his brows. And when he plastered his glare directly onto her, she felt a painful dry lump mold into the center of her throat.

"Please tell me the call I got about you bringing an animal in here is not true."

And as if on cue, Jax released a very cheerful bark.

Mikasa had just given up, allowing him to enter the room. Sasha sat on the floor, Jax huddled in a towel against her chest, and Levi scowled at very adorable sight as if it were an infestation of cockroaches.

"What the hell," he began, pointing directly at the happy pooch, "is that?"

A nervous laugh wavered in her throat, and she pulled at the collar of her robe. "A dog?"

His neck snapped to her, a fire brimming in his eyes. "What the hell is it doing here?"

Mikasa didn't answer, she had no good reason to give him, no explanation that would subdue his anger. She only looked longingly towards Jax, watching his tail wag in delight while Sasha held him, his gaze towards her uncle very naïve and affectionate. Surely this would have cured his heart of coal, seeing an animal as sweet and innocent as Jax.

But he turned to her, his eyes violent and stabbing directly into her soul. "Get rid of it."

She didn't know what came over her then, taking the dog from her roommate and coddling him, tears burning at her eyes but remaining restrained. Her grip on him was tight and possessive, and she could feel the dampness of his fur, smell the light fragrance of the shampoo they used to clean him. He was just so soft and molded perfectly against her.

Removing the towel furled around her head, long and sodden locks of auburn hair veiled Sasha like velvet ribbons, and she too went to Mikasa, petting the top of Jax's head.

"Come on, Levi. Give her a break. She's your family." She gave him a narrowed look then, crammed closer to her as if to protect her. "And the chick on floor two has a cat and nobody says shit about that."

Somehow Sasha's boldness reached a nerve, because when he approached the huddled girls, he looked at the small hound attentively, his eyes slim, brows clamped together. Mikasa wondered if he was going to reach out and pet him, it really seemed for a moment that he might. But instead, his mouth pursed into a straight line, his glare beaming towards her. It felt like she was hit with a laser, her heart fluttering in her chest.

"The girl with the cat has a doctor's note," he explained, and then he sighed, his eyes shifting about the room as he seemed to purposely stall. Whatever he was going to say next, he really didn't want to say it. "You anxious or something?"

Mikasa blinked. "Always."

And he sighed again, the breath heaving through his nose, while his palm kneaded at his forehead as if a very sudden and very painful headache drilled through his skull.

He was postponing again, hindering his next comment, his instruction to her. When his gaze finally landed onto her, her fingers curled, digging into a section of wet, matted fur.

"You really are your father's daughter," he mused, and then he laughed. Just one short, muted chuckle, a sound that occurred so quickly it could have easily been missed. And a hint of a smile tugged at his lips but not brazen enough to overcome the scowl that was already permanently established there.

But she saw a tenderness in his eyes, at the mention of her dad, his brother…they shimmered in the same silvery hue as her own, a pent-up sadness lingering in them. One he had never dared display to her in all its vulnerability. But sometimes she could catch glimpses of it. It was the moments when she was most defiant, unyielding of her choices and dedication to herself and others. And it was those instances when he could see remnants of her father creeping out of her.

He headed towards the door then, almost in a mysterious fashion, choosing against physically acknowledging her when he said, "Go to the nurse Monday and get a note. Tell her I sent you. And it better not piss on the carpet."