I don't know why, but I wrote a little something in Levi's POV; some of his impressions from the very beginning of OMWF. It's the latest chapter (7) of Same Time, Same Place.

Chapter 17: In Too Deep

Lazily, Levi lifted his head to glance at the wall clock before dropping it back down on his bent arm, his chest still rising and falling at an elevated pace. "We missed dinner."

"We missed the bed," Nora replied.

"And both not exactly for the first time." The look he threw her was nothing short of reproachful, even though they both knew there was never only one of them to be blamed.

Lying on her side, she shifted closer to him, dragging along her shirt-turned-makeshift-pillow, throwing an arm and a leg over him to soak up all that bare, warm, solid Levi-goodness—and maybe paw at him some more, feel that hard, corded muscle beneath smooth skin. Just because she could; he might not always outwardly react to her touch, but he sure never complained.

But she did it just as much because feeling his strength, feeling that he wasn't easy to break, never failed to soothe her, similar to how their intimacy always made the worries in her head appear more distant for a little while. Even this time, when it had started off on a less than optimistic note and had tasted like desperation.

"Thanks," Nora spoke into the silence before she managed to ruin her mood all over again. "I feel way better now." It was something, at least, even though those cracks deep in her chest would probably never mend, even though she still felt the shards sting and tear at her like a fresh wound, and always would.

Levi tsked. "Don't thank me for screwing you, dumbass."

"How polite," she deadpanned, idly tracing a narrow, long scar on his right shoulder with her thumb. It was slightly raised and rough, and she knew it well; this one, she had stitched up herself. "You could have just said 'my pleasure', you know."

"That's blatantly obvious," he answered, matching her dry tone.

She smiled against his skin, and maybe he felt it, because he raised one hand, briefly squeezing the arm she'd draped across his chest.

A minute of silence passed. In the afterglow's wake came the increasing awareness of her rapidly cooling skin—every inch that wasn't in direct contact with Levi's, at least. "Fuck winter, this floor is cold," she said, curling her half-frozen toes. "You should have left my socks on."

"I don't half-ass things."

In answer, she pressed her feet to his calves, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Shit, woman, those are like fucking icicles." But despite his complaint, he adjusted his legs so that they covered more of her freezing feet—and grabbed his shirt lying in a heap nearby, draping it over her torso.

A pleasant warmth spread quickly through her, and not only on the outside.

"That's the price you've got to pay for your… thoroughness," Nora said, glad that nothing in her voice betrayed how… fluttery she felt inside.

Ugh. It was sickening, really.

Almost as if the notion caused it, Levi propped himself up on his forearm, gazing down at her through lowered, heavy lids—oddly serious, all of a sudden. Considering her like he was trying to figure out another one of the world's biggest mysteries.

Until she got so uncomfortable that she asked, testy, "Why are you staring at me like this again?"

He remained utterly still, long enough she started to doubt he would answer.

"Why can't I get enough?" he asked then, very softly, averting his eyes—and it was a good thing; she'd rarely been more relieved that he didn't see the look that must have crept on her face.

A look that would have told him that he had shaken her to the core.

Slow and deliberate, he trailed his fingertips along her arm—the lightest touch—all the way from her shoulder down to her wrist. He was watching the goosebumps appear in their wake, and it was clear to her this had been the aim; she might have been able to suppress a shiver, but still, her skin revealed the effect his touch had on her. The sensation spread, down to the very tips of her toes, raising every last hair on her body.

"Don't ask me," she managed to reply, unsteady and throaty. "It's a good thing, though, or I'd have a mighty problem, one day."

"Not the worst thing, at least," he said—reversing their roles, so she knew immediately what to answer.

"Not yet."

He gave a nod, his expression sombre, and Nora was left to wonder if he could see the damage those shards inside her were doing right now, lodging themselves deeper.

Shit, but this day… She had cycled through more emotions than she would have in a whole month, back in her old life, and with at least double the intensity. Many, many days had been like this ever since Levi had single-handedly upended her life.

Being with him always was one hell of a bumpy ride, disorienting to say the least. Yet, it had become absolutely impossible to imagine her life without this, to go back to how things were before.

One minute, they were working, bickering and joking and he was saying things that sounded like insults but were, below the surface, really… nice, in lack of a better word. The next, they were fighting passionately, and all of a sudden, that exact passion led to raw, mind-blowing sex, only for them to go back to their usual banter right after, and then he was being nice again—not with words, but rather with every small yet meaningful gesture.

And then, he was deadly serious once more, and so straightforward it hurt. No wonder she was all over the place so often, her insides hot and cold and constricting and flipping and fluttering all at the same time. No wonder she was always dreading and eagerly anticipating each day.

Nothing that had transpired this afternoon was truly surprising, though. Levi had always been a man of contradictions. A clean freak with a penchant for shit jokes. Short, but strong. Brutal, yet kind. Callous and passionate and tender, even, sometimes. Honest, yet cagey. Antisocial and taciturn, yet weirdly eloquent, when he wanted to be.

Never, never boring.

"I can't protect you," he told her now, out of nowhere, even and matter-of-fact. But no, he wasn't really telling her, she sensed.

It was a simple acknowledgement, stating an already known fact out loud.

And I can't protect you, she did not say, because he might respond that it wasn't necessary, and she was in no mood to start another fight with him.

Or, he'd say what she was about to say to him, and she didn't want to hear that, either.

"No, you can't," she said, as soberly as he had spoken.

One corner of his mouth drew up into a mirthless almost-smile. "Doesn't keep me from trying, though."

"We are Survey Corps," Nora answered wryly. "Trying is all we do."

### Four Days Earlier ###

"I agree, then. There's no longer a need for them to train that often. Really, we can't afford to wear out our two shifters before this war has even… well, started properly." Hange rubbed at her temples, sighing. "That goes for Nora especially; compared to what her practice has been doing to her, Eren's the picture of health. The Colossal seems to be particularly draining." Her lips flattened, worry lines creasing her forehead.

Levi recognised them all too well. Hange might try her best to hide them from Nora, but they were always there when they discussed this issue without her.

And they were deepest when Hange witnessed the damage the shifter training caused first-hand. The nosebleed, the crushing fatigue, the marks on Nora's face. Worst, the times she had lost her consciousness. And that was only what they could see from the outside; she wouldn't tell, of course, but Levi was pretty damn sure that wasn't all of it.

Hange's obvious concern wasn't exactly reassuring, either. However, what was somewhat reassuring was that for the foreseeable future, the worst part of this was done and dealt with for Nora. It was a good thing she was a quick learner. The relief washing over him at the development was frustratingly hard to ignore.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes flitting to the wall clock behind Hange. "Alright. We'll tell her, then, once she finally gets her ass here." They'd said four, and it was two minutes past, already. The brat probably couldn't tear herself away from her books.

"It's a relief, too, right?" Hange asked, as if she had extracted the word from his thoughts. A small smile appeared on her face, smoothing out those worry lines. She propped up her chin on her palm, elbow on the desk, looking at him expectantly. When he didn't answer—somehow, he had a feeling this was some sort of trap—she added, "I, for one, sure am glad we won't have to damage her health quite as much, going forth."

It sounded sensible and innocuous enough—but Hange was still watching him in a weirdly pensive way he couldn't quite figure out, and it was really getting on his nerves.

The impatience building up quickly, Levi waited for a full ten seconds in which Hange didn't break the silence before he answered, frowning at her. "It's certainly not a bad development, for once." That was basically the same thing she had said and should go without saying, in the first place.

Yet, this seemed to be what she had been waiting for. Nodding, she said, very pointedly, "But we wouldn't let that influence the decisions we have to make as soldiers, of course."

His instinct had been right. This was most definitely a trap, and adding insult to injury, at that. Levi felt himself tense in irritation, glaring at her. "I didn't suggest this for personal reasons, if that's what you're trying to insinuate, Shitty Glasses. I've been putting her through hell again and again for months, haven't I?"

The second sentence, especially, came out far less measured than intended. Hange straightened, not even a hint of playfulness left in her expression. Still observing him like this was some kind of shitty field study.

"I know," she said, as serious as she ever got. "And you did that—are doing this—despite the fact that you are in love with her and want to protect her."

And there it was, again. And he still wasn't immune to it, not the tiniest bit; something cold squeezed his stomach.

Usually, Levi preferred straightforwardness—which was probably one reason why he had somehow ended up becoming close friends with the insufferable woman opposite him, in the first place. Right now, however, he would have preferred her to keep her trap shut instead of uselessly rehashing that ever-same shit.

He changed his tactic.

"Yes," he told Hange, voice sharp and deadly. "And much good it does her."

Obvious answer to an obvious sort-of-question given, subject closed—the quickest possible way to deal with it. And straightforward, at that; not that he knew how to do anything else.

Hange blinked at him, barely concealing her astonishment. "Wow, you just admitted it outright. You never did that before."

He should have known she wouldn't drop it, no matter what he said to her. And yes, that included 'drop it'. As well as 'fuck off', or 'shut up'. He'd tried them all.

And if that hadn't been enough already to get his hackles up, the sheer stupidity of her statement would have been. "Tsk. What was there left to admit? Did you expect me to write a goddamn sonnet, or what?"

The mental image his sarcastic remark evoked was almost amusing. Was there a word for the opposite of artistic? Or poetic, maybe? If so, that was him. He read books, sometimes, but that was it; he spent a good chunk of his nights awake, after all.

Hange had the audacity to look somewhat confused, so he snapped, "It's not like I ever denied it the two-hundred times you stuck your shitty nose in my business."

"You're right. I just never thought you'd ever… say this. About anyone."

Her unusual, dead seriousness grated on Levi's nerves—worn thin as it was—potentiating the effect this conversation already had on its own.

He folded his arms, scowling at the messy desk. "Me neither," he had to agree. "Once."

"Good times," Hange said, and he knew before he looked up that she had a sad smile on her face.

Levi shrugged. "Simpler, at least."

Friends and many, many comrades had still been alive, back then, but he wouldn't say that he knew what 'good times' were supposed to be. He knew shit times and alright times—which was basically the same as shit times, only that they were shit in a more low-key way than he was used to.

But then, not too long ago, he'd got to know times that were far from simple or shit or alright—and nothing about them was low-key, and nothing about them was something he could ever get used to. 'Good' was too strong and too weak of a word for it at the same time.

"Does she know?" Hange inquired, her voice as warm and soft as her expression.

Poking and prodding as she always did; either not realising or not caring when it was fucking enough, shortening his already short fuse only further.

"Of course she does," he bristled, because the question was stupid and because the most obnoxious commander the Survey Corps had ever seen just wouldn't. Let. It. Rest.

"Hm." Hange reclined back in her chair, tapping the random pen she'd picked up from her desk against her lips, thoughtful. "Does that mean you told her? Using that exact word?" It only took her a second to analyse whatever it was that might have changed in his expression, and she got a smug look on her face. "Yeah, thought so."

Levi rolled his eyes. "Seems pointless. It's obvious. Besides, she'd probably just start to hyperventilate." And that was assuming she wouldn't bail on him.

Hange chuckled. "Doesn't sound too far-fetched, I have to admit." A shrewd glimmer lit up her eye, and she continued, all analytical, "But if she really, truly knows, why would she react like that?"

"Because—" Levi paused, thrown off. Because she clearly has a shitload of issues, and I am the last person who could blame her.

He had no idea how to phrase this without providing Hange with more cannon fodder. That his heart was pounding against his throat in his aggravation, setting his teeth on edge, certainly didn't help him think.

Not only had Hange no business sticking her hooked nose into things that didn't concern her, she also had no idea what she was talking about.

Just like he knew how Nora would react, he also knew that she knew—how the hell could she not?

"Because she's stupid like that," he said at last, carefully controlling his tone. Even if it had been his place, he wouldn't have felt like elaborating.

"Maybe not so obvious, then, after all," was Hange's ludicrous, smart-aleck deduction. She tutted, once twice thrice, which to him was as close to an invitation to smack her as it got. But she was either oblivious of or unfazed by his thinly veiled, simmering wrath. "Levi, I've known you for… how long now?" Nibbling at the end of her pen that already had bite marks—the woman was disgusting—Hange cast her gaze to the ceiling, thinking hard.

"Almost eight years," he said, impatient.

"Right. Sheesh, we're old," she laughed, then sobered up, clearing her throat. "Anyway, that aside, I also have the advantage of an outsider's perspective. Nora doesn't." At the murderous look he threw her, she raised her arms in defence, palms facing him, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Just sayin'."

"Yeah, I hear your nonsense, loud and clear. Now, once and for all, will you stop pestering me with this goddamn annoying, useless bullsh—"

He immediately stopped at the noise of the door handle being pressed down.

Speaking of the devil. Nora entered, her sharp, severe brows raised, giving them both a questioning look.

Impeccable timing. It took a good amount of self-restraint not to give her shit for being a few minutes late.

Her being punctual would have saved him a whole lot of energy.

### Now ###

Despite the advanced hour, they got dressed again, intending to get themselves a belated dinner. Not even Levi would accept just tea as a suitable evening meal.

"You coming?" he asked, waiting with his hand on the door handle.

Nora shoved her chair back beneath the desk, then took a large step towards him—and halted, frowning; there was a strange unevenness in the floor beneath the ball of her right foot. Pulling back, she inspected the irregularity; there were several small, roundish dents in the sturdy wood—shallow, but noticeable.

"What is—"

"Fuck's sake," he muttered, back at her side, glowering at the damaged floorboard.

"When did this happen?" She tried to remember if she'd dropped something recently without noticing she'd damaged the floor; but that was unlikely, seeing as Levi usually noticed stuff like this immediately and would surely have given her shit for it.

He gave her that annoyed don't-ask-obvious-shit look, before crouching down, laying the fingertips of his left hand over the five indentations. They were a perfect fit, in perfect alignment; from the smallest, shallowest dent beneath his pinkie to the deepest three that his thumb, index and middle finger had dug into the wood.

Belatedly, she realised this was the exact spot where they'd earlier—

He stood up again once he saw the understanding creep into her expression.

"Oh," she said, analysing the situation at hand. "Guess that explains why I didn't steam anywhere—as far as I noticed—even though you were so…" she trailed off for lack of a more fitting description than 'angry'. A description that wouldn't give away just how so he had been, to her, and how so that had made her feel.

The corners of Levi's mouth turned down. "Wound up?"

She swallowed, licking at her lips. "Yeah. That about describes it."

"That's just great," he said, looking at her with an accusatory glare. "Now I have to change the floorboard because you're so goddamn maddening."

The audacity. Telling herself the heat in her chest was exclusively stemming from indignation, she replied, "You were the one who jumped from arguing right to—"

"It's an improvement, at least," he said, completely ignoring her valid objection. "A shitty one, but it's something." He knelt, prying out the board with his bare hands as if it was cardboard—except it made a lot more noise than cardboard would.

"Where is that an improvement? The floor doesn't repair itself on its own, after all."

"Don't start that shit again." Straightening, he faced her, the floorboard dangling from between his fingers. "Also, it's only one spot, this time; not all over your sides or your back or your thighs or your goddamned ass." Deadpan, he added, "Now if that isn't progress."

She had half a mind to dissent, but her curiosity won out. "Why do you think that is? Coincidence?"

Silently, he contemplated her for several seconds, thinking—but what, she had no chance of reading from his blank expression.

"No," he said at last.

Alright, so this was one of those things she had to worm out of him. "Then why?"

Levi was back to irritated in the blink of an eye, huffing at her. "You can't ever let it rest, can you, brat?"

Her eyes were cast down to the wooden board in his loose, careless grip when she answered. "Not when something sparks my scientific curiosity."

He sighed, drawing closer, scowling down at her. "First and foremost," he said, voice deep with reproach, "because I was busy keeping my shitty mouth running."

His breath fanned over her face, warm and delectable. A hot shiver travelled down her spine, her heart jumping as she recalled every single word he'd said to her.

"And second?" she inquired, almost whispering.

"And second, if you must know…" His gaze turned cruel, the temperature of his voice dropping together with its volume. "Because I'm starting to give less and less of a shit about what I am doing to you—and what you are doing to me, for that matter. It's not like I can or want to change either. We're in too deep, anyway." Each word he said was deliberate, unapologetic. Cruelty gave way to pensiveness as he searched her face, grey eyes flitting back and forth between hers. "I wouldn't have thought not caring would help… I always assumed it would be the contrary, if anything."

Her breath was coming a bit too fast, a bit too shallow; the two inches of air left between them was suddenly too thick, too warm. Heady with Levi's scent.

She must have looked somewhat shaken, because his piercing gaze narrowed back into a glare, his features tensing. "So, did that satisfy your pain-in-the-ass 'scientific curiosity'?" he asked, softly yet provoking. "That really what you wanted to hear?"

He must have misread her expression. He probably saw the shock, yes, but he seemed to be mistaken about its origin, its nature.

Fuck, she always forgot what she was getting herself into when she asked him a personal question.

Nora forced herself to snap out of it, and she stepped away from him, getting herself space to think and breathe properly.

"Yes, actually," she told him then, firm. "Also—and I've been waiting forever for another opportunity to say this to you—I told you so." And she broke into a triumphant grin. "I told you to let go and stop overthinking, and I was right."

She had known that would royally piss him off, and he didn't disappoint.

"Really?" Levi was deadly quiet, his eyes like knives. "Then I suggest you stop being so insufferably smug and shut up and take your own fucking advice, for once." And he emphasised his point by prodding her in the stomach with the floorboard he was still holding.

Dammit. He couldn't let her have at least this one, could he?

"Touché," she murmured, and headed for the door.