AN: We have now officially reached the length of OMWF. And with pretty much the same chapter count, no less!

...and I'm nowhere near done, and I can't even say how much longer this'll get until we reach that finish line I have in mind. Whoops.

This monster got out of hand. I'm sorry.

Chapter 38: Hush

The moment Nora entered the hospital ward that night, Levi glanced at the wall clock, looking thoroughly reproachful.

"Sorry I'm late. Hange and I got a bit carried away."

He shook his head, putting the book he'd been reading down on the bedside table. "What are you even doing here? You should have gone straight to bed."

Seemed she'd misread him. He wasn't fed up with her presence, though, or was he? They'd been living together for two years, already. Ever since he was confined in here, they actually saw less of each other. A fact she was acutely aware of every day, all day long. Was he aware, too? If so, she could only hope he didn't develop a taste for this rediscovered solitude.

Well, it wasn't like he could escape right now. Too bad for him.

She flopped down on her trusted chair. Really, at this point, she basically owned it. "Happy to see you, too." She always visited—again—after dinner. She wouldn't make an exception today just because it was already the time she usually left.

The longer she looked at his gruff exterior, the more the back of her mind itched. Her brow creased. Something was different.

Then, it hit.

"Your bandage is gone," Nora said, ridiculously excited.

Levi rolled his eyes to the side. "Very observant. I'm impressed."

No time to acknowledge his sarcasm. "What about…" She vaguely waved at his middle.

"That, too. And the stitches."

"What?" Just like that, she was standing, bending closer, as if she could look through his clothing. Now wouldn't that be a marvellous yet very inconvenient power? "Is the cut healed, already?"

"No, they just pulled them anyway. To spice things up." His voice was as dry as the desert allegedly was.

"Stop being a sarcastic prick and show me."

"There's an easier way for you to get me to strip, brat." But he complied, starting to unbutton his light grey shirt. That combined with his comment did something bad low in her core.

She slapped his shoulder. The safest spot at present, she found. "Stop it with the innuendo, too. Really not a good idea right now."

"Your punches are pathetic ever since I landed here."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm working on it."

"Suppose I gotta give you a good ass-whipping next time we spar," he murmured, his stupidly perfect voice deep and gravelly.

Don't get turned on by this. Just don't.

"As much as I'm looking forward to it, that should wait a while," she mumbled back.

"Tsk." He managed to put a lot of impatience into that one little sound. "The wound's been closed for a few days now, actually. They were overly careful."

"Probably because that's not supposed to happen that early."

Levi shrugged off her reasonable objection. "Still won't release me, though."

"Yeah, well, the cut wasn't really the problem. Your scrambled insides were. Are." Nora was positive he couldn't yet move around pain-free. And as the medics had explained, he'd run the risk of causing internal damage again, which would be disastrous. After all, he only had one liver, and if the past days had taught her just one thing, then it was that internal bleeding was no joke.

Perching on the mattress, she looked the moment his shirt hung open, even though she felt nowhere near close to ready. They lapsed into silence as she examined the wound.

It was brutal. An excellent distraction from the fact that she was seeing his lean and sculpted bare torso for the first time in a while without anyone else in the room. No more changing of bandages from here on out.

The long, reddish scar was stark against his pale skin, crossed by short, perpendicular lines at regular intervals, the remnants of the newly removed sutures. The round, pink mark from the gunshot was subtle in comparison, despite its uneven texture and frayed edge. Biting her lip, Nora traced the healed cut with her fingertips, following its diagonal curve up across his abs towards his chest. His muscles flexed beneath her touch, and she looked up when he took a prolonged, audible breath.

Levi was watching her with a severe intensity that made her poor, aching heart beat faster. "Don't look like that, brat." He pointed one long finger at the wound. "It'll get less ugly over time." Next, his left temple. "That one too."

Frowning in incredulity, she shook her head at him. "Nothing about you is ugly. That's not it."

She only noticed the subtle excess tension once it drained from his features. "What then?"

A fitting explanation came to her immediately. "How do you like looking at my titan marks?" Going forth, both of them would forever be able to draw these comparisons, though she was still guessing a little here; he wasn't any more expressive during shifter training than he was at any other time. But maybe it was close enough that he'd understand.

Judging by the way he averted his gaze without contradicting her, he did.

Unlike the memories, the scars would fade out quite a bit over time. If they had that much time left, that was; a few months—or maybe just weeks, in his case—would suffice. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Not that the scars were what mattered here; they were simply a new part of him to learn, to get used to—at least to a degree, hopefully, that wouldn't give her a pang to the chest every time she looked at them.

From her spot on the right edge of the mattress, Nora climbed on the bed until she was kneeling astride his thighs—for lack of space, and so she could see—and brought her hand to Levi's jaw, gently turning his head to inspect the wound on the left side closer. He let her, albeit grudgingly.

His healing really was something else. The scabs were gone, already, but the fresh scar was vicious, a stark red like the one on his abdomen, disrupting the stubble of his undercut. When she traced it with her fingertip, her touch very light and careful, she felt the shallow groove the bullet had carved into his skin. Even sort of healed, it was still nearly the width of a finger, running in a straight, almost perfectly horizontal line from his temple along the side of his head, ending just past his ear, tapering at both ends. Most of it was concealed by his dense, black hair falling over the wound to the shell of his ear, but it would flash through every now and then when he moved. At his temple, the strands of his hair didn't cover the scar up entirely, in the first place; it started very close to the tail end of his eyebrow, so it was obvious as soon as you looked at his face from the front or his left.

It was impossible not to imagine how… "That was really, really close," she said, working hard to keep her quiet voice even.

"Yeah." Levi took her hands from his face, laying them over his hipbones.

"Did you see it coming? Or did the shot just miss?"

"I evaded. Semi-successfully. There was a shit ton going on." He tipped his chin towards his abdomen. "A bit too much for that one."

Nora pictured the utter chaos of the situation. So many soldiers at once, and in close quarters; the worst conditions for evading bullets. Not like the time he'd had over a dozen of Kenny's people hot on his heels in the streets of Stohess, and that had already been a shitshow only he could survive. Not to mention he'd dealt with about twenty more, this time. "I'd say it's a miracle you got out of there alive, except it's you."

"I had a promise to keep," he said, as if it were the most logical thing that such a reason was enough to do the impossible.

A weak smile touched her lips. "You know, I've come to realise you only said it so I would let you go without flipping my shit."

He shrugged. "Still counts. I'll be damned if I make myself a liar."

As much as she loved his honesty, her smile faded. "Which is why you can't promise me anything like that won't happen again."

His expression was calm, impersonal. "There are things worth getting a bullet through the head. We're Scouts because we believe that."

"Yeah, but never your head," she said vehemently before she could stop herself. Her mouth had acted on instinct.

"Bullshit. You don't really think that." His tone was sharp, final, full of misguided conviction.

Don't project yourself on me. She looked away, desperately scrambling for something else to say. Anything before he saw the truth and realised she had her priorities nowhere near as straight as he had.

"Any idea when they'll let you out of here?" she asked, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

They were a little too alert, too pensive, but he accepted the change of subject straight away. "A few days. Longer till I can terrorise you guys in training again."

A lopsided version of her little smile returned. "I'll warn the others."

#

They spent some time in silence, content with the way things were right at this very moment. Well, that went for her, at least. Nora's gaze settled on his forehead, where the bandage had been for so long. Looking there was somewhat safe. Better than his eyes or his lips or his body, with his shirt still open. She wondered if she should tell him to button it up again. She wondered if she should remove her hands from his hips, climb off him, and just go to sleep. The answer to both was probably yes. She didn't do either.

"I was bored yesterday," Levi said out of nowhere with his inflectionless version of casual. "Something was different."

Her heart leapt. "Very observant. I'm impressed," she parroted.

"Smartass."

When she'd returned today at noon, with Hange in tow, there had been no hello of any kind. Nothing more than a barely lingering look, and certainly not a kiss. Not the occasion, and too risky anyway. Masochism. Besides, it had just been a single day, and this right now was the first time he let on that he was even the least bit bothered by it. Which was, to be honest, a very nice revelation and almost made her regret her earlier prudence.

"So you missed me, huh?" Without making the conscious decision, she'd begun drawing circles on his bare skin with her thumbs, just above his trousers.

"Tsk." His eyes drifted to the side. "I've just grown accustomed to your face." When his glare found said face again, he was almost pouting. "Which is why it was rude of you not to show it for a whole day."

Warmth spread in her abdomen. "You know me. I'd rather spend hours in a stifling hot carriage with two cheeky scientists."

"That's rich, coming from you." Before she could protest, he said, "But never mind that. You can make your absence up to me." The pitch of his voice had dropped, his eyelids grown heavier.

Fuck, how she was suddenly so very aware of the feel of his strong thighs beneath her, how she wanted to touch more of him than the square inch of skin above each hipbone; they had barely touched since their kiss that had got a little out of control. Every single minute she spent with or without him, she longed to be close, properly close again. To make sure he was really there, still alive, still hers.

But what a shite idea that would be, as of yet. Having no intention of shovelling her own grave, Nora wasn't stupid enough to ask him how she could make it up.

Her good sense was in vain; eyes fixed on her face, Levi rested his hands on her thighs, a bit further up than was advisable, setting her even more on edge. Her muscles tightened, and she squirmed a little—and felt him, not his hipbones, felt more than she'd braced herself for. Nora froze, staring at him, eyebrows climbing up of their own accord. So did her pulse.

"What?" His tone was utterly unaffected, unabashed. "You're straddling me, and I'm not dead."

She blinked at him. "That's all it takes?"

"Don't act as if that's something new, brat." He leaned in just a bit, just enough for his fucking fantastic scent to reach her nostrils. "Thinking is enough. What do you think I'm doing in here at night instead of sleeping?"

A throbbing ache built between her legs with the mental images produced, impossible to block out. Levi, thinking of her, wanting her.

Shit. This might just be worse than their kiss. Nora was glad she couldn't see her own face right now.

"Can you just… not be like this when you're lying in a hospital ward with a gunshot wound?" She sounded imploring and angry at the same time.

"Like what?" he asked, as if his touch wasn't burning through her trousers, the heat travelling up her thighs.

Mind thoroughly addled by his touch and voice and scent, her mouth was running before she could think better of it. "Like the man who gets me wet with barely more than a look and a few words."

Desperation and frustration truly were a dangerous combo.

"Fuck, that's…" For a brief moment, his fingers squeezed her thighs hard. His eyes had darkened to charcoal, the pupils swallowing nearly all of the grey iris. "You're killing me."

"No—that's all on you, this time. I do not understand what you are trying to achieve, here."

"Really? I can make myself even clearer, if you want." Unhurried, his hands skated further up the insides of her thighs, all the way to the creases.

She waited, suddenly unable to move. Waited for him to withdraw his hands, to stop teasing her. After all, it could go no farther under the current circumstances. Actually, this was already a little too far, too good, too infuriating.

His eyes were glued to hers, their challenging glint captivating. Instead of backing off, he stroked his thumb right over her crotch. She drew in a sharp breath. He did it again. And again. Sparks of pleasure radiated from her centre outwards, made her skin prickle.

"You cannot be serious," she breathed. Her grip on his hipbones had tightened. "This is a worse worst idea than the worst idea I had. We shouldn't."

The press of his thumb increased. "Why the hell not? I'm fine."

Thinking through the dense, lusty haze was near impossible by now, but she did her best to sound stern. "You really aren't."

"Almost, though. Well enough for you to fuck my brains out, anyway."

The words enhanced the effect of his touch to a maddening degree. She caught his wrist with her hand, firmer than intended. Yet, somehow, she couldn't make herself pull it away. "Someone could come in."

"No one ever comes in here in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, but what if, this time—"

"Then they'll hopefully have the decency to piss off quietly and without disturbing us." His raspy voice couldn't sound any more indifferent; Levi honestly didn't care, not now. Ignoring her hold on him, his caresses grew more insistent, rubbing circles over heated flesh, the clothes not nearly enough of a barrier. Nora's thoughts dissipated into nothingness, and so did her willpower.

Maybe it wasn't that bad an idea. It really was late. No one would know. And she could be careful, very careful.

She caved in. No way could she walk away from this, from his hands on her, his hungry bedroom eyes. She was aching for him, so wound up her skin felt too tight. Bloody hell, even before his first touch, the mere notion had had her excited and restless, already. She was such a goner.

"Wait a moment. Just to be safe." Nora scrambled to her feet, rushing to put out the light they'd always on. He used the opportunity to shift into a half-lying position, taking the pillow down with him. She was back on top of him within seconds, tugging the blanket over them. She braced her forearms on the mattress, avoiding coming into contact with his torso, no matter how much she wanted to. "I'll be gentle," she murmured between hasty kisses she left all over his cheek, his jaw, his neck, back to the corner of his mouth.

"Don't be," Levi said, and caught her lips with his.

He wasn't gentle. His tongue invaded her mouth, his kiss vigorous and demanding, and he retreated only to bite her lip, the sting electrifying, drawing forth a sharp gasp from her. He tasted sweet and minty and warm and she curled her fingers into the sheets, afraid of herself, of what she might do, what she might say. Truly experiencing for the first time how it must be for him, all control overruled by mindless need while you tried not to hurt this very, very important person. The issue had improved considerably, but for her, it would thankfully become obsolete before she ever got used to it.

His hands slid from her shoulders down her sides, grabbing the hem of her shirt. With that one rational—or paranoid—brain cell she had left, she stopped him with her hand on his forearm. "Leave that on, just in case. Everything beneath the blanket is fair game." That would make her feel at least marginally less exposed.

"Screw that. If I can't see you, I at least want to feel all of you," he protested in a low, throaty voice.

It might make her quiver, but she would not relent; she took his hand and guided it up beneath her loose shirt. He sealed her lips with his the moment he palmed her breast beneath her bra, sweeping his thumb over her hard nipple. She moaned into his mouth, greedily eating up his answering growl. When he started to unbutton her trousers, she assisted eagerly, shucking first his and then hers, and also pulled off his shirt. Not a single word of protest from him; Levi did not seem concerned about equal conditions for the time being.

As soon as that was taken care of, his hands slipped beneath her shirt again, and hers along his waist, chest, shoulders, arms. Hot, bare skin everywhere. Fuck—him so hard beneath her, hips to hips. The tips of their noses almost touched, she felt it in the dark, just as she did the sizzling air left between their upper bodies. This was much better, so so close, yet not quite like she craved. That intense sense of longing got so overwhelming she almost opened her mouth, then stopped herself short. It wasn't her fear, this time. It was still there, it was always there, but she had learnt from her mistake, had learnt what she feared more than voicing that truth. She had to tell him eventually, but she couldn't tell him now, and her presently so fragile, pathetic mental state wasn't the main reason.

If she said it now, he might think she did so only because he'd almost died and was still recovering. Because she couldn't think clearly at the moment. Or worse, that she felt sorry for him or like she owed him.

Well, she did owe him, everything, but that had absolutely nothing to do with this. When she told him, she wanted to be certain there was no way he couldn't take her less than a hundred percent seriously, couldn't have even the slightest doubt that she meant what she said, and especially that she wanted to say it. She wanted him to be able to see her. And this, in the darkness, felt like a moment where spoken words were unnecessary, anyway. Out of place, even.

So, she let her actions speak for her.

I missed you, her slow, deep kiss said, her hand tangling in his soft hair.

When he inevitably took over control and increased pace and pressure, insistent and impatient yet with undeniable relish, she led Levi's hand to her buttocks, squeezing on top of his. I trust you.

And when his other hand slipped between her legs, his finger pushing inside her and she had to work so so hard to keep quiet, and she brought her hand between them and wrapped it around him, they both were saying, I want you.

Nora rolled her hips against his hand in tandem with his movements, her nerves vibrating, and she was stifling the noises she was making in the crook of his neck. He was mumbling curses into her hair, then clasped her wrist, stilling her caresses. He nudged her with the hand on her backside, the message clear and irresistible.

I need you, she said as she sank down on him, slowly, trying to keep a semblance of control even as she forgot herself, forgot everything but that stretch, that fullness that felt like too much, at first. A perfect too much that wasn't too much at all.

For a while, long or short she didn't know, they stayed like this, unmoving, bathing in that blissful, that very best sensation they had been deprived of. Full and enveloped and connected. They were forehead to forehead, their rough pants mingling in that inch left between their mouths.

She'd rarely ever been with him, felt him, like this; in almost complete darkness, the kind where there were only vague blurs and blotches, black and blacker, and keeping one's eyes open was a waste of energy.

She wasn't a fan of the dark, and she was quite sure he wasn't, either. But right now, it couldn't matter less. All other senses were more than making up for missing sight. And each and every sense was tuned to him, leaving no space for something as superfluous as fear.

"Nora," Levi rasped against her mouth when she started to move, slow and careful, and it was the best and most dangerous thing he could have said or done, drawing a breathy moan from her throat.

Neither dared quicken the pace, savouring each second, the delicious friction. Anything else would have taken this moment from them too fast, this welcome torture. Nora was lost in the sweet desire rushing through her blood, and she had to keep from pressing herself to him with everything she had. She was greedy, needy, wanted it all. She couldn't feel him everywhere, but at least she felt him deep inside her. She bit her upper arm, clinging to her self-restraint that was hanging by a thread.

Levi didn't seem to have such reservations, and it was driving her straight into madness. He wound his hand in her hair, pulling carelessly, granting his mouth ideal access to her neck, kissing and sucking and biting, none of it gently. Pulsating pleasure had taken command over her body, increasing with his low groans against her skin. And she relished the tantalising sting of pain, a clear sign of his returning strength. Already stronger than she'd thought, stronger than he meant to be.

"Please more." The words slipped out against her upper arm, breathless. More of him, alive and with her and soon entirely whole again. Exactly as he should be. She needed to kiss him immediately, so she did, delving in her tongue, tasting and feeling him.

He complied with her mindless demand, kissing her back fiercely, hot and soft and bitter and sweet. His fingers dug into her behind, making her whimper into his mouth. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, hard, and she had to struggle against his pull with all her strength to prevent him from crushing her against his upper body. And through it all, they moved and moved together, each rocking motion painfully, perfectly slow and deep.

And when they finally couldn't stand it anymore and accepted the inevitable, she conveyed through their unrestrained kiss, their shared, white-hot high, what she had been telling him with each look, each touch, each word, each roll of her eyes, for so long.