Chapter 19: Shitshow

The sun was bright in a cloudless sky, the early-spring air unusually warm, enlivened by a mild breeze. They were walking alongside the Wall of Shiganshina, just outside its shadow. Without stopping, Nora opened the buttons of her coat.

"Don't dawdle," Levi grumbled without looking back, two steps ahead. "I haven't got the whole afternoon."

"Technically, you do," she reminded him, catching up as soon as she was done with the last button. "And I'm barely walking any slower than you, so stop being so impatient."

Good thing he wasn't much taller than her, on top of it; keeping up with him would have been a much bigger struggle, then. The two inches he had on her were more than enough.

Okay, maybe it was closer to two and a half.

In any case, Nora was used to their brisk pace, a habit which they could never quite abandon—even on days off, such as this one. Hange had to round up and talk to the engineers she would need here for potential tweaks on the new gear—once they returned from the capital. Hence, the Scouts had a one-day-breather. The next day, only Hange and the Special Ops squad would continue their journey to Mitras.

Which was why the two of them were on their way to the marketplace, and in civil attire. For once, Nora didn't feel underdressed next to Levi—not that she ever gave a damn about that in their day-to-day life. He was wearing one of his usual black-and-various-shades-of-grey combinations—not to forget the occasional crisp white button-down shirt thrown in, of course. She swore that his dark green cloak was the most colourful item in the man's wardrobe. And other than his uniform—which would soon be obsolete—he didn't own a single pair of trousers that weren't black.

Today, his attire consisted of a dark grey sweater over a light grey, long-sleeved T-shirt, reminding Nora of the time they'd been wanted criminals. She suspected he was saving the more formal, less practical stuff for the capital. But no matter what he wore—casual, formal, everything in-between—it fit him perfectly, so much so looking at him was irritatingly distracting. Always.

He really didn't half-ass anything.

Usually, when they went on errands in town—or to the two or three places at the harbour one might call shops—to stock up on necessities, they were done within an hour or so. That was the result when one followed a long-established, efficient routine and had no patience for strolling. It had occurred to Nora that they would be even quicker if they split up, but neither of them had ever suggested it.

The rest of their rare off-days, they used for reading or paperwork or helping Hange out with whatever came up.

But sometimes—really, really, few and far between, she could count the times they'd done that on one hand—they spent almost the entire day in bed. Lying around, occasionally talking or bickering, and… doing other stuff. Just to get a little bit of workout in, naturally.

Today wasn't one of those days, unfortunately. Aside from the two or so hours of reading Nora planned to squeeze in later in the afternoon, she was reasonably sure Levi would force her to clean up their quarters with him. Their living space had collected some dust since they'd last stayed here in Shiganshina, and that, of course, was unacceptable. In fact, the only state he deemed acceptable was when every last square inch was so impeccable you could eat from the floor or drink water out of the toilet bowl.

In weather such as this, and after the busy midday hours, she definitely preferred running errands.

When they were almost at the outer gate—and therefore close to the main street leading to the nearest market—a tall figure standing near the Wall's lift caught her eye. Far enough from them she needed a second to recognise who it was. The hair colour, reminiscent of a flaming torch in the sunlight, certainly helped.

Nora stopped mid-step.

The man spotted her, took a double-take, and waved. Shit.

She waved back. What can you do?

"Who the hell are you—" Levi craned his head, following her gaze—and by the way his expression darkened, eyes going flinty, he recognised her ex-boyfriend immediately, despite having met him only once. "Of fucking course," he muttered under his breath, so quietly she almost missed it.

Peter made no move to approach her, but he was still looking in their direction, and he was standing there on his own, for once not engaged in conversation with some of his comrades nearby.

And they'd pretty much pass him, anyway.

Nora sighed. "I'll go over quick and say hello."

The look that was now on Levi's face reminded her of the one time he had found mould in the bathroom corner. "Why would you do that?"

"Dunno. I mean, he's waved at me. Now it'd just feel weird to bugger off without a word."

The mould-expression stayed for a few additional seconds, before his features relaxed again, back to bored and unaffected. "Knock yourself out. Not that I can understand why you even care."

"I know you can't," she told him, rolling her eyes yet grinning a little, "and it's one of the best things about you."

She didn't really care, though, because she didn't really give a damn about what people from the Garrison—other than Pyxis—thought of her. But sometimes, she felt a wee bit bad about how things had ended between Peter and her, back then in Ehrmich District. She hadn't had the capacity for it back then, but the more time had passed since her mother's death, and ever since Levi… Well, she had always known she was lousy with romantic relationships, but since Levi, she had realised just how much exactly she had withheld, had been unable to give.

But she had found her one and only exception.

That aside, it seemed Peter was now stationed in Shiganshina, and she didn't want to feel awkward every time she came across him.

At her words, Levi's expression had lost some of its indifference. Nora squeezed his wrist, intending for the gesture to be nothing more than an unobtrusive and quick 'be back in a minute'.

He thwarted her plan. Acting so fast she had no opportunity to let go of him, his hand twisted in her hold, fingers locking around her forearm. And he pulled, meeting her lips with his.

Firm, possessive, breathtaking.

And all this in what couldn't have been more than two seconds.

Levi let go of her and took a step back before she had any chance to react, looking as unbothered as could be—save for the fervid glint in his eyes. She, on the other hand, felt like someone had socked her up the head, her lips prickling with the aftershock of his kiss, heat rushing up her neck to her face.

"What are you waiting for?" he said before she could do more than blink at him once. "Go."

And that was enough for her brain to start working again, indignation deepening her flush. Nora cast a glance around; a handful of soldiers who'd happened to be facing them—Peter included—were gawking at them like they'd just seen a ghost.

The brief kiss wasn't anywhere near inappropriate for a public street, but—they didn't do that. Ever. At this point, it was almost like an unspoken agreement—or so she'd thought. For one because Levi was Levi, Captain Levi, and second because kissing him always felt to her like she was cracking open, exposing the things deep inside her that terrified her most, laid bare for everyone to see. The feeling was entirely irrational, yes, but she still didn't need any other witnesses besides Levi; it was bad enough that he saw.

But apparently, he wasn't above marking his territory.

"We're so gonna talk about this later, you prick," she hissed. She turned, squeezing her eyes shut for two measured breaths.

Damn him for being the stupid, heart-stopping, irresistible exception.

When she was decently sure she looked normal again, she strode over to her ex-boyfriend.

"Hello, Peter," she said once she came to stand before him, leaving enough distance she didn't have to crane her neck too much to look up at him.

"Nora, hi." He gave her a lopsided smile. "What a nice surprise," he added, because he was the kind of person who was always nice, and to everyone.

The scruff of his beard—a bit longer than the faint stubble he'd usually kept, once—was even redder than his ginger hair, which was vibrant in the daylight, falling into his forehead in soft waves. And was she imagining it, or had the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth deepened since she'd last met him—briefly—one-and-a-half years ago?

It was strange that seeing someone she hadn't seen for a long while was needed to be reminded of how much time had flown by, carrying her along in a violent, ridiculously eventful current no one could fight.

Apparently, Peter must have pursued a similar train of thought—yet with an entirely different outcome. "You haven't changed much. It's almost like you don't age," he said with a broad grin. "Your hair is different, though."

It had grown a bit ever since Levi had cut it for her, the longest strands reaching about an inch past her collarbone. That was the length she liked to maintain nowadays; perfect to tie it all back neatly without being too heavy and too tangly.

"It got impractical," she said.

"Looks nice." Peter's tone was friendly and easygoing, as was his near-permanent smile. His usual no-big-deal attitude.

"Um." What did people respond to that sort of comment from an amicable ex? You look nice, too? No, that felt weird—maybe because she could vividly imagine Levi's face, would he hear her say something like that. Peter was handsome, no question. Yet, it did nothing for her. No one did—again, other than her one notable exception, of course.

Nora went for the safest answer. "Thanks."

He considered her for a moment, eyes skimming down her front and back up, latching on her face, again. Her getup—dark-brown trousers and a soft and loose, cream-coloured shirt beneath her open coat, also brown—made it clear she was off-duty. Unlike Peter in his Garrison uniform, the white shirt somewhat wrinkled, open at the collar.

Just before the silence got awkward enough she would have started fidgeting, he spoke again. He'd always been the one to carry the bulk of their conversations.

"It's rare to see you up here in the far north," he joked. "And most times, you lot are passing right through."

She frowned. "So you've been here for a while, already? I've never seen you before today."

His smile turned lenient for a moment. Wry, almost, uncharacteristic for him. "'course you haven't." Before she had any chance to figure that one out—did he mean she was unperceptive of her surroundings or just too busy or what?—he continued, "Anyway, I got promoted and decided to relocate to here soon after the Battle. Seeing as Trost isn't our outermost line of defence anymore."

"Makes sense."

He nodded once. "So, you're still with Captain Levi?" His auburn brows climbed halfway up his forehead. "I mean, he made it pretty clear just now."

The sudden change of subject—and such an unexpected, rather blunt question, at that—took her off-guard. "Er, yes."

"Blink twice if you're held against your will."

"Not funny, Peter," she said, a grin tugging at her mouth despite herself.

His deep blue eyes brightened up with amusement. "Sorry. It's just…" He trailed off, turning his head in Levi's direction for the briefest instant. Sure enough, he was watching them, lounging against the wall of the building where she'd left him, one shin crossed over the other. It wasn't like he'd got anything better to do while he was waiting for her. He wasn't quite close enough to make out his expression, but Nora could guess at it just fine like this.

"He's intense," Peter said at last.

You have no idea. "Yeah, I suppose that's one way to put it."

His expression turned mischievous all of a sudden. "I guess I can kinda see it. You two, I mean."

She stared up at him in disbelief. "You can?"

"Yes. I told you once you could do with smiling a bit more," he teased.

Her lips twisted in distaste at his reminder. "That was an arsehole thing to say, by the way," she said, matter-of-fact. Something she should have done right away, back then, as she was aware in hindsight; problem was, she just couldn't be bothered with the way things had been, with how she had been.

Not once had she heard a woman say this to a man; it was always the other way round. Needless to say, though, she had not taken his advice to heart.

Peter's grin vanished at once. "I've come to realise that myself, sometime after. I'm really sorry."

Oh, hell. Now she remembered why she hadn't said anything. She just couldn't with that… open niceness, how he always wore his heart on his sleeve. How he thought it was the easiest thing.

Nora shrugged off her discomfort, dismissing the whole issue. It was old hat, and in truth, it had never really mattered. "It's alright. I know I made a piss-poor girlfriend."

He laughed. "Maybe you did, sometimes. It wasn't all bad, though." There was a short pause in their conversation, and she got the feeling it was her turn to say something, but she had no idea what, no matter how much she racked her brain. He didn't seem to have a problem with it, though, because his smile was unwavering as he asked, "So, have you got any better at it by now?"

She considered this for a moment. Mostly, it wasn't a matter of improvement. It simply was Levi, and that made all the difference.

"In a way, perhaps. But not by much," Nora answered. "It's okay, though, because he's kind of awful at it, too."

"I wouldn't have guessed," Peter said with a dry grin. It shrank a little when his eyes flickered over to the man in question. "I'll readily admit that he is scary as heck."

"People tend to think so."

"But you don't."

"Not quite." She never had—not in the way others meant it, anyway.

He was her biggest threat nevertheless.

"You seem much more content now," Peter was saying. "I suppose the Scouts are where you always belonged."

The corners of her lips quirked. "I'm never content."

He chuckled. "You know what I mean." He waited until she nodded, then cleared his throat. "Anyway. I know I'm repeating myself, but if you're ever in the mood and have some time to spare, I'd be happy to go for a drink with you." And, unnecessarily, he hastened to add, "Just a friendly drink between old comrades, of course."

It sounded innocent and truthful enough. He was the kind of person who enjoyed such a thing.

It didn't matter either way. "Sorry, but I don't think that will happen."

That was probably a little mean, not something one was supposed to say that bluntly. Still, she couldn't think of anything better, and to her, being honest—to a certain degree—was the kinder thing to do, here. There was really no reason to elaborate. It had nothing to do with Peter as a person, but frankly put, she had neither the time nor the fancy nor the patience for that shit; for her taste, she had quite enough obligations and friends, already.

Now that would have been mean to say.

"It was nice talking to you, though," she told him, looking him in the eyes. And that was entirely honest, as well, she realised with no small amount of surprise. Somehow, he had managed to break the ice early into the conversation.

Was it because he had changed, or her? At least in part, it must be because she was much more comfortable with herself now than she'd ever been. She didn't need to guess why that was.

Peter inclined his head in assent, his smile still earnest, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Right back at you."

They said their goodbyes, and she went on her way. When she was almost out of hearing range, he called her name, and she turned, questioning.

"Take care."

#

She joined Levi at his waiting spot, faintly shaking her head in bemusement. "That was surprisingly… not an absolute disaster."

"What did the jackass say that was so funny?" he asked right away.

So all it took was her cracking a grin and maybe a smile or two? Interesting.

Nora beamed at him, all innocence. "He said you're scary."

He stared at her, his perpetual frown firmly in place, and it almost seemed as though she had knocked him for a loop. She couldn't say why, though.

Eventually, he said, "You're full of shit."

"I'm really not."

He analysed her expression, probably trying to detect the lie. When he found nothing, and she didn't elaborate, he breathed out an exasperated sigh. "C'mon. We're going for tea."

Now that was new. "Why?" she asked, and couldn't help the mild distrust colouring her voice.

"Because I feel like it." And he grabbed her hand and pulled her along in what she assumed was the direction of the bistro he had in mind. She was too baffled to protest.

Also, tea.

They took one of the small, round tables outside, sipping their favourite hot beverage—and having cake, even. Almost like a normal couple, except they didn't exchange a single sentence for the first five minutes, instead sitting in comfortable silence, basking in the sun. Or at least she was basking; it wasn't discernible if Levi was. He still looked above-average grumpy, which was reason enough not to start a conversation with him.

"Why did he dump you, anyway?" he asked out of the blue. "The two times we've met him, the bastard was basically drooling all over you."

She rolled her eyes at him, already annoyed. "He wasn't."

"And you're sure the best judge for that, with your impeccable social instincts."

Pot, meet kettle.

But, to be fair, despite his lack of social graces, he was usually an excellent judge of character, perceptive as he was. She had good reason to question his objectiveness in this particular matter, though.

"It's quite entertaining when you're jealous," she remarked. "For the most part."

"I'm not jealous," he said between sips. "I just don't have any patience for empty-headed windbags."

It didn't seem like he really wanted to convince her, though; instead, it sounded exactly like one of his dry jokes.

"Liar," she told him anyway, and his eyes turned extra intense, gleaming dangerously—yet exhibiting a hint of playfulness at the same time. In the glaring sunlight, they were of a startling, bright silver colour, throwing her entirely out of kilter, her heart skipping a beat.

Unbidden, a vivid memory arose from the depths of her mind.

You're mine.

He'd said that, only once, their first time at the sea. In the heat of the moment, when he'd been inside of her, after they'd discussed a future they would never have.

It probably shouldn't have been as much of a turn-on as it was. It was seared into her brain forever, one of those things she couldn't even mind that she thought about it too often, and every time she did, it evoked an echo of all the feelings that had overwhelmed her when he'd uttered those words. And right now, with the subject they were discussing and how he was looking at her, that echo was so strong she had to suppress a shudder.

What he'd said was nothing but the truth, so she didn't care if she should be feeling about it the way she did. Besides, she knew without a doubt that his jealousy had nothing to do with trust issues. Maybe Levi even trusted her almost as much as she trusted him. There was no question in her mind that he knew she was entirely devoted to him; it was just that obvious. She couldn't hide from it, even if she wanted to.

It wasn't all pretty, what they had, but she was his, and he was hers.

For once in his life, Levi was simply being irrational, and he probably was aware.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, squinting at her, suspicious.

Nora startled out of her trance, realising she had been staring holes into his head. She covered the blush creeping into her cheeks with her cup of tea, needing a few seconds to remember his previous question. She chose to ignore this last one.

"It took over a year till Peter gave up. When he finally dumped me, he told me I wasn't 'emotionally available'." At that, Levi gave an actual, amused snort. She rewarded him with a quick glare before she continued, as unapologetically honest about this as she would only dare with him. She was certain he wouldn't judge her for it, or he would already have done so long ago; he knew her too well. "And that was really nicely put, seeing as I… well, I barely cared at all, to be frank. It honestly didn't make a difference to me if we were together or not, and I had other things on my mind." She had been far too occupied with her ill mother and, as a consequence, with being miserable. As Levi thankfully was already aware, so she didn't need to explain.

"Actually, the breakup was a bit of a relief, if anything," she confessed, stirring her tea, elbows on the table. "I was too distracted or just too daft to realise it before. It was simply one thing, one person, off my to-do list." She paused when his frown deepened, one corner of his mouth curving up in contrast. For a moment, she feared he did judge her, after all.

Then, she processed how exactly she had phrased her last statement. "Wow. That did not come out as intended. Please ignore the innuendo. You know what I mean."

"I certainly hope so."

"Anyway. The gist is, Peter never really knew me, and he didn't… get me." At that point, she averted her gaze, already knowing that Levi could not only hear the insinuation behind her explanation, but also see it written all over her face. "I don't blame him, though. Yes, I might have known him better than he knew me, but I suppose I didn't get him, either."

'Do you even love me? Have you ever loved me?' Peter had asked her right before he'd ended their relationship.

She hadn't. So, after several seconds of long-stretched silence, she had answered, 'I do like you.'

Oh dear, the memory still made her cringe. If she had literally shat herself in front of him, it would have been miles better than that.

But she couldn't mention any of this to Levi; not that she thought he would comment on it, but… just in case. She didn't want to set off that avalanche, to find out how much damage it would cause, no matter which direction his answer would go.

And under no circumstances could she allow herself to dwell on it, if she didn't want to get buried, suffocated.

This time, her answer wouldn't be 'I do like you', that much was for sure.

"The idiot blew his chance," Levi said, and with no small amount of something close to satisfaction, if she wasn't entirely mistaken.

She shook her head. "I think I never really gave him one."

"Again, because he's an idiot."

"Lay off him. He's just a nice bloke," she said, mostly because she was weary of the tedious subject. In truth, she didn't care much about what Levi said about him or anyone else in front of her.

But that seemed to be the worst thing she could have said, and she had no sodding clue why; Levi's expression darkened, his jawline tightening.

He set his cup back down on the saucer, directing his scowl at her. "Since when do you care about nice?"

"I don't. I'm just saying you're being disproportionately harsh, even by your standards." And there she remembered she still had a bone to pick with him. A fresh bout of annoyance and discomfort welled inside her as she told him, "You know perfectly well there's no need to mark your territory as a dog would do with its front yard."

He looked rather displeased with her little analogy—but he didn't outright contradict anything she'd said. "Tsk. Am I not allowed to kiss my batshit girlfriend off duty?"

She twitched in her seat. Now that was a word she'd never heard come out of his mouth before. Prefixed 'batshit' or not. He'd said it so nonchalantly, too.

Levi had not missed her subtle reaction; he never did. His bright-silver glare turned challenging—and a good thing it was, because it made it easier for her to think, and she could never resist his challenges.

"Well, technically you are," she conceded, willing her warm blush to go away, "but don't act like we both don't know why you did that."

He leaned further over the table, never once interrupting their eye contact, and only then did she notice they'd both been steadily getting closer to each other during their exchange.

Yes, he definitely was intense.

Crude as he was, he said, "So I can assume you'd be thrilled if I ran into someone I fucked in the past and had a nice little chat?"

"You kidding? I'd be seething," she admitted, smiling. "But silently and with dignity, of course."

The corners of Levi's mouth twitched. "There you have it, brat." And he reclined back in his chair again, taking his teacup with his fingers on the brim, swirling its contents. "Not that there's any chance of that happening; unlike you, I've never screwed anyone from the military. You don't shit where you eat."

She almost choked on her sip of tea, just barely preventing it from going up her nose. "How eloquently put," she said after she'd managed to swallow, chortling. She was too amused to even bother pointing out the blatant flaw in his statement; he did it himself.

"At least that's how I handled it until you came along and this whole shitshow started." He indicated the space between them with a lazy wave of his hand.

Shitshow. Well, that wasn't nice, as usual, but—also as usual—he wasn't wrong.

"Again, an apt description," she told him.

After all, she had never cared about nice.