Chapter 14. What Is And What Should Never Be
A/N: This chapter is the start of our M-rating, kids. My first time writing a smut(ish?) scene, and I wanna thank those of you who beta'd, encouraged, or offered advice about it! You know who you are. ;) Also, thank you Lana Del Rey for writing shexy music.
There was something so incredibly bleak about an unmarked grave.
"Buttercup for childhood. Youth."
"An apt choice. Color is good too," Efran said, and it was, but Hanji thought the yellow blooms stood out too sharply against the barren gray of the tombstone.
"They bloom until autumn, so this is the last month that they're in season."
They were silent for several minutes, just standing over the small grave, observing its blank face. Finally, Efran spoke again. "You get kind of used to people dying down in the Underground. Happens all the time. Same thing with the Corps, I know. Just the nature of the job." His voice was gentle, respectful. "I never got used to seeing children die, however."
Hanji nodded in agreement, her mouth twisting into a frown as she thought about the dead boy buried below their feet. Had he been afraid before he died? Alone? She didn't even know his name.
This was their greatest crime, the Redeemers. She could tally every sin committed and find they all paled in comparison to this one.
"It also symbolizes humility and neatness," she said, resuming an earlier thought. Efran understood. She appreciated this fact about him; she didn't need to double back and explain her mind or censor her words. Even Armin couldn't understand some things; he probably assumed she and Efran had grown close for an entirely different reason. "Well, thanks for coming. Again. It's a grim business, I know, but I feel…"
He watched her search for the word before supplying, "obligated?"
She hummed a no, shook her head. "Too strong. Compelled, maybe?"
Efran nodded. "I understand." She knew he did. They both understood what it meant to keep company with the dead, especially the ones who never had it in life.
The soft tread of someone approaching reached their ears, and both turned at the same time to see Mikasa striding through the cemetery, her face dour.
"It didn't work?"
Mikasa scoffed and shook her head, sending a glance to her left. "Oh, no, it did." Her frown deepened. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Hanji followed the woman's gaze, regarding the empty air with growing excitement, her previously dark mood lifting some. "I still would have liked to have been there!" She had to restrain herself from capering across the grass to meet the dark-haired woman.
"It's good to see you, Efran," Mikasa said with a warm smile.
The tattooed man returned the expression. "You as well, Mikasa. How is your arm? Not throwing anymore knives I hope?"
Hanji found the woman's blush to be odd.
"I'm healing quickly. Hanji says I can have the splint removed in another week."
Efran looked genuinely surprised by this information. "I'm no doctor, but doesn't it usually take a few months for a break like that to heal?"
Hanji nodded with enthusiasm, excited to tell a new pair of ears her latest discovery. "Ackerbones heal quicker than other people's."
Efran chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Well, there's a handy skill." He gave Mikasa a wink. "Well, I won't keep you from your appointment in town. I best be off myself."
"Thank you again, Efran," Hanji said, and he saluted her. His use of the military gesture was a recent development, and she suspected his intent was partially tongue-in-cheek. Still, she took no offense. Especially because he always did it wrong, and there was something inherently funny about that.
"Hanji, Mikasa." He addressed them both with a little nod before turning on his heel and setting off across the graveyard. "Goodnight, Levi."
Hanji snorted in amusement. "Strange man, your friend, Levi. It's not even night." She sobered when she saw Mikasa's gloomy expression. "Right, well, best not to keep Rubie waiting. Don't want to be rude."
"Rudeness is the last thing I'm worried about," Mikasa mumbled.
Hanji paused mid stride, sending a reproachful look at the lieutenant. "We're doing this so Levi can confirm her identity. Nothing more. Erwin's orders were to act accordingly." She hazard a guess to where Levi was standing. "That goes for both of you."
Mikasa's eyes turned down in chagrin. "Of course."
A thought occurred to Hanji then. "Say, how do I even know you're paying attention, Levi? You could be dancing around, pulling faces at me and I wouldn't even—"
She yelped in surprise as a large clod of dirt suddenly lifted itself from the ground and sailed through the air, smacking her square in the chest.
"Woah! Ok! Ok! I'm convinced!" She brushed the soil from her shirt and chuckled. "You also answered a very pressing question I had about the whole Ackerbond—"
She managed to spin away from the second clod.
"Alright! I believed you the first time!" She sent Mikasa an exasperated look. "What's his deal?"
"He wants you to stop making words with Ackerman."
Hanji came up with a total of seven more alterations on the surname and dodged three more earthen missiles before they finally reached town. "Remember, act accordingly," she whispered to Mikasa.
"Aye."
The dress shop was small but quaint, one of its walls lined with rolls of fabrics in various shades and textures. Hanji couldn't remember seeing so much color in one place before. The detail to some of the designs was extraordinary. The hands that made these fabrics were not hands that killed Titans; the calluses on the dressmaker's fingers were different from the ones on her own.
It struck her then how odd both she and Mikasa looked in a place like this. They'd dressed in civilian attire for the occasion, but they still stuck out. Perhaps it was their bearing; military comportment was difficult to shake.
"May I help you?" The dressmaker herself appeared from the back room. She was older, her back in a slight stoop, fingers curved from years working at a loom. Her face was kind, however, smiling.
"We are waiting for a third person. She is being fitted for a wedding dress," Hanji replied, shaking the woman's hand. Another benefit to wearing regular clothes was the lack of formality to interactions. A lot of soldiers desired the cachet a uniform afforded them. Not Hanji. Veneration could get old very fast.
"A young woman came in here yesterday to make an appointment. Red hair?"
"That's she."
The dressmaker smiled. "Lovely girl. Very pretty hair. And so young! Getting married already?"
"Indeed. Kids these days." Hanji continued the small talk with a smile, but her thoughts wandered to the field research papers piled on her desk back at HQ that she needed to sort before the start of the week. She wondered how the old woman would react if the conversation shifted to her current study of Titan toe gout.
"You have such a nice face shape, dear," the dressmaker cooed. "I know I have a pair of spectacles that would be much more suited to you. Something more feminine."
Ah, this was a well-worn discourse that Hanji had held more times than she could count. One benefit of age was the cooling effect it had on an impassioned riposte—she'd learned the hard way the consequences of acting in anger before thinking through a situation. Still, even now she could feel the flare of indignation in her belly.
"I'm afraid anything less substantial than these babies would get damaged too quickly out on the field."
"Ah, I see." Confusion. She wasn't in uniform, afterall. "And what field do you work in?"
The cachet. Even seamstresses gobbled it up. At least it bought her an excuse to leave the interaction with relative grace. Rubie was still nowhere to be seen, but she found Mikasa by the wall of fabrics.
"Oi, you haven't seen Rubie yet, have you?" Mikasa didn't reply. She was clearly distracted—perhaps Levi was saying something to her. Hanji prepared to repeat herself but stopped when she saw the rows of goosebumps erupt across Mikasa's arm.
He was watching her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.
They hadn't said one word to each other, and she was in part grateful for the presence of Hanji to act as a buffer.
Hanji was currently engaged with the dressmaker, leaving Mikasa to fend for herself, which consisted of perusing a box of buttons as if they were the most fascinating little objects she'd ever encountered.
"Look at me, will you?"
She ignored him. It wasn't like she could interact with him anyway in public like this.
"You don't have to say anything," he tried again, as if reading her mind.
She plucked at a red button, holding it to the light.
"Mikasa." He said her name in such a way—like he was tasting it, savoring the syllables—and she knew he was doing so on purpose. "Please."
Is this what imprisonment did to a man? Apologies and pleadings? She touched her mouth, as if absently chewing on her nails, muttering a quiet "fuck off" behind the protection of her fingers.
"Look at me."
She looked at Hanji instead. The woman was still conversing with the shopkeeper. Mikasa lowered her voice to a whisper, resuming her button forage as she hissed, "this is exactly what I meant when I said you were jerking me around. I don't know what you want from me."
"I just want to talk."
"We are."
He scoffed.
"I don't really see what there is to talk about."
"There's a lot."
Mikasa cast another glance around the shop. "If you're going to give me a lecture, save it. I don't need it. We can just pretend it never—"
Levi stepped closer to her, which seemed to be his favorite tactic for testing her resolve. It worked, it tested it. "No. What you said about pretending like this...thing doesn't exist in the hopes that it will just go away…" He pressed his lips together, trapping the words.
"What the hell do you mean."
"I mean, Mikasa, that I…" He sighed in exasperation, lowering his voice even more as if he was the one in danger of being overheard, gesturing between them with his finger. "This is incredibly distracting."
Mikasa moved on from the buttons to inspect the rolls of fabric. Levi followed.
"Look, I'm not fucking good at this shit, so I'll just get to the point. We can't afford distractions right now. We have too much riding on our ability to keep it together. Too many people depending on us."
Mikasa forced herself to look at him. Really look. His hair was getting longer, the messy strands falling across the bridge of his nose and against his cheeks. He was thinner too, which made those wonted circles beneath his eyes even more prominent.
He looked younger like this, ironically. Almost boyish. And she felt very guilty.
"And after?" She hadn't meant to say it aloud. He looked confused. "After this is all over, when there aren't people depending on us, when we don't have to keep it together."
Levi sighed and coursed his hand through his hair. She remembered how soft the dark strands had felt, and her stomach did a little flip.
"There are always going to be people depending on us, Mikasa."
She regretted pushing him away from her that day in his room. It had been her foolish pride. She should have pulled him closer and kissed him again, because damn him he was right; this was the price that came with being the strongest.
Emotion tightened her throat. "We need to live too."
He didn't respond, merely regarded her with that gunmetal gaze.
Mikasa turned back to the fabric rolls, a shameful blush warming her face. He was right. This was very distracting.
She could see Hanji approaching in her periphery, but the entirety of her focus was suddenly called to the sensation of Levi's fingers trailing up the back of her neck.
Gooseflesh pricked at her arms, something primal jolting down her spine as he ever so lightly traced her skin. He was touching that spot at the base of her skull—that shared place where the connection could be felt. It was all she could do not to tilt her head back and press into his hand.
"You're asking me to offer up my heart…" His voice was a low murmur beside her ear, a quiet rasp that belied the strength she knew he possessed. "...but I don't think I have one to give."
The bell above the door shattered whatever spell held them, and the surrounding world came crashing back into focus. Rubie entered like a summer breeze, red hair free from its accustomed plait and cascading down her back. She spotted Mikasa immediately.
"Mika, I am so sorry. I hope you weren't waiting long."
"Don't worry about it." Mikasa prepared herself for the ensuing embrace, meeting Levi's confounded expression from over the redhead's shoulder. Her hair smelled like jasmine.
"Oh, Hanji, you're here too." Rubie turned her physical affection onto the scientist. "What a pleasant surprise."
Hanji threw herself into the hug with all the jubilance of a puppy, and Mikasa was reminded just how good of an actor the woman had proven herself to be. "Oh, the pleasure is mine. I hope it's alright if I crash the party. I just needed a break from paperwork. I need a new tie, anyway."
Levi circled around the women to get a better look at Rubie, his frown deepening as he regarded her face. "Fuck. Yeah it's she."
"Mikasa, blue or red for my tie?" There was an odd timbre to Hanji's voice, her smile just a little too forced.
"Red."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Positive."
Hanji played off her alarm rather well, going as far as to sling her arm around Rubie and declare they "commence with the shopping." Mikasa made to follow but was stopped by Levi grasping her sleeve.
"Don't," she gasped, fearing someone had seen the phantom tug of her shirt.
"I'll leave," he said, face close to hers, breath hot on her neck. "But we aren't done." She could still feel the burn of his fingers even after he severed the connection.
• • •
It was twilight by the time the three women said their goodbyes outside the shop. Hanji's ebullient facade had faded some, and even Rubie noticed the woman's eagerness to return home.
"Walk with me, will you, Mika?" the redhead inquired in that feathery speech of hers. Hanji was already well down the road, and Mikasa worried how it would look if she declined.
"Sure."
They walked for a while without speaking, listening to the crunch of their shoes against the dirt road and the babel of night creatures. Finally, Rubie halted in her stride.
"I hope you don't think me too forward, Mikasa. Asking you here today. I know it's the only free day you're not training the cadets." She fidgeted with the ends of her hair and worried her lip. "I just wanted the opportunity to get to know you better. Outside of Eren."
There was an angle here, a reason they were having this conversation, and Mikasa resolved to tread very carefully until she knew what that angle was. "I'm glad we could spend time together today, Rubie." She was glad for the dusk. Her poker face was limited.
"I'm visiting my family in the country this week. I go often, but I'm returning sooner than usual to see my brother." She'd resumed their walk, keeping her face downturned as she spoke. "I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."
Ah, there it was. Mikasa wasn't surprised, she knew the Redeemers would be getting close to her, but to watch Rubie dish out this demure, pliant act in such a seamless way was more than a little disturbing. Because she was good, and even out of the dark Mikasa felt paranoid.
This was sudden. Once again, declining would be suspicious, and most likely detrimental. But the alternative catapulted the operation forward far quicker than anyone had planned for. She was taking too long to respond. "I'd like that, Rubie."
The slip in Rubie's mask was noticeable even in the dim, perhaps because Mikasa was looking for it. Her grin was just too triumphant. I've won. She'd laid out the breadcrumbs, and Mikasa had eagerly followed the trail. "Excellent."
That smile, the flash of teeth, had seared itself into Mikasa's mind, and she was still picturing it hours later back in the security of her quarters. Erwin would need to know the developments first thing tomorrow. She'd acted of her own volition, but surely he would see the opportunity this afforded them. They were running out of options. This was their in.
She lay in bed, covers to her chin, studying the speckled face of her ceiling as she contemplated the worst possible outcomes. Knowing Rubie's true nature now, seeing the carefully hidden, sinister potential she was capable of, made her a far more fearsome enemy than Mikasa had anticipated, and already she had inflicted some devastating blows.
Eren, for one, would not come out of this unscathed. Even Armin would bear his own scars. But Mikasa would willingly play the pawn—the bait—swallow any pride over her role in all this so long as she knew it could keep her friends safe. She would keep them safe.
You're asking me to offer up my heart, but I don't think I have one to give.
Levi was first and foremost a weapon, and she'd peered beneath the calm waters of his exterior to find a raging tempest there, terrible as it was glorious. But he was so full of contradictions; the confidence in his bearing, the danger in his stride, was easily confuted by the delicate way he held his cup or adjusted his cravat.
Or the way he touched her.
It wasn't that long ago that she'd thought him pettish and conceited, wanting nothing more than to knock him down a peg or two and lord that victory over him. But now she found herself contemplating that kiss in his office far too often, and that was a very dangerous train of thought.
Mikasa brought a hand to her mouth, fingers fluttering as she traced the path his tongue had seared across her lower lip. She ignored the clench in her belly as the feeling of his teeth capturing the delicate flesh came unbidden to her mind. He'd been holding back, she'd known this even in the moment, and she shivered at the thought of what it would be like when she was completely healed, when they could finish what they started on his desk and...
And what?
Mikasa sat bolt upright in bed at the sound of his voice. "Levi?" He'd spoken. She'd heard him clear as day but couldn't see him anywhere in the room.
Is that what you want?
Oh. This was happening. She wasn't imagining it.
Tell me to fuck off again and I will.
In her head. She could hear him in her head. He was giving her a way out of this, the chance to sweep it all under the rug and forget this little moment had ever even occurred. Had he stumbled upon this himself, or had she called him again?
Tell me to leave.
She was silent, and that was an answer in and of itself.
The connection hummed behind her skull, a pleasant warmth that spread down her back and heated her skin. Was that his breathing or her own? It was difficult to tell over the erratic beat of her pulse. Mikasa didn't dare move, tried not to breathe—maybe the connection would close after a moment. She wasn't sure she wanted that. Her control over the bond felt unusually clumsy, just out of her grasp.
His voice was a whisper in the dark. A command.
Touch yourself.
The brazen words had her squirming, eyes widening in the dark, but her thighs pressed together despite herself. A cautious hand made its way down her belly but stopped at the hem of her underwear.
There was no going back from this.
Pleasuring herself had always been more functional than indulgent—a means to relieve stress. It felt nice, though never sensual. But touching herself now, her skin buzzing like a live wire and so very, very warm, she lamented any time spent in the past not indulging.
Levi cursed under his breath.
She paused mid task, heart stuttering, hand trapped between her legs. The connection was still very present, his voice a reminder of that, and it both alarmed and excited her. Her fingers resumed their mission, but her eyes remained open for fear of where her mind might take her in its fevered state—
Stop. Fucking. Thinking.
Another command, but she could hear the strain in his voice. A moan escaped her before she could stop it, her hand coming up too late. There was no way he didn't hear that. Neither of them were oblivious to what the other was most definitely doing.
Never had she felt so simultaneously deplorable and utterly aroused. A distraction. They should stop. Everything had irrevocably changed, but they could still stop.
And yet.
Mikasa allowed herself to recall the soft strands of his hair tangled in her fingers. His tongue in her mouth, hands on her thighs. She didn't want to stop, didn't even try, and she didn't care how weak that made her. Damn her useless, broken arm and its cumbersome splint.
Another moan, this one untamed behind a hand as she sought a new angle with a finger, two. Faster, seeking. Would he touch her like this? He could kiss her—kiss her well, too—so surely it wouldn't take him long to figure out exactly how she liked it.
The sheets were tangled about her feet, nightdress hiked to her ribs as she writhed and arched against her hand. The heat scorched her flesh, her fingers, but she only wanted more, please, please, more.
A strange feeling fluttered down her spine. She was close, but this was not the sensation she associated with that. Different. It repeated, this time more intense, surprising her and slackening her jaw. She leaned into the feeling, into the connection.
Mikasa…
She'd felt him. This, coupled with the broken rasp of her name, was so keenly thrilling, that she soon tumbled over the edge after him. Her back arched off the bed, hand falling away to grip at damp sheets as her own climax wracked her body.
It was eerily quiet when she came back to her senses. The connection was closed.
Mikasa lay there contemplating what she had just done. What they had just done. The impulse to run away was strong, but so was the desire to know what he was thinking. Did he regret it? She didn't. For all her shame, she did not regret.
And she was in so much trouble.
Tl;dr — Hanji is a beautiful cinnamon roll who smashes gender stereotypes and just wants to save the world. Levi confirms Rubie is the Red Bitch Woman, and he also has a lot of self-loathing and doesn't feel lovable. Rubie invites Mikasa to "visit her family," and she accepts even though it's an Ackertrap. Mikasa and Levi have Ackerphonesex/Force Bond smut.