Dance With Me

I took this prompt fairly literally. I'm not sorry.

"I can't believe we're watching this." Jean sidled up to Bertolt with a scowl on his face. The rest of their cadets could make fools of themselves, but he wasn't going to. He was mature and collected, like a military police officer.

Bertolt observed Reiner twirling around with Krista. Really, Reiner almost looked like a titan compared to the tiny angel. They formed a rather comical picture that was perfectly punctuated by a scowling Ymir, perched in the shadowy corner across from them. "They look nice."

Their blond hair even matched. Bertolt dared to peek at Annie, who stood with her arms crossed by the punch bowl. He was fairly certain she was sneaking drinks when the officers weren't looking, but he couldn't chance looking at her too long. She might suspect.

"Ha-ha!" Eren commanded their attention by suddenly sprawling on the cobblestone street. On cue, Connie started clapping, and soon Thomas, Mina, and Reiner had joined in. Sasha even dropped Connie's hand to join, though – Bertolt noted with interest – her eyes remained on Connie's face, Bertolt noted with interest.

"Mikasa, you tripped him!" Armin whispered.

"He tripped himself." Mikasa grabbed Eren and lifted him back to his feet.

Jean swallowed. Her hair shone in the lights. Beautiful.

The song ended, and it seemed all of Trost district groaned. This was one of their few celebrations, and everyone, rich or poor or soldier, was determined to dance their worries away in the square.

"You're not going to dance, are you?" Jean asked nervously as a cheerful ditty began.

"N-no," Bertolt stammered. He was too tall, too awkward, too awful. And it felt wrong, participating in fun with their enemies who smiled and spun about them like beautiful ghosts Bertolt wished he could believe in. Times like this he wished he could have been born different. Even if ignorance cost his life.

He stood there with Jean, of all people, fists clenched and sweat dripping from his forehead.

Marco sidled up to Reiner with a frown. Though neither Jean nor Bertolt noticed, the two were soon headed their way, smirks dancing on their lips.

"Jean!" Marco cried, grabbing his friend's hands and sweeping him into the fray.

"Marco, no!"

"Here, I'll show you," Marco said eagerly. "Listen to the beat, and move your hips like this –"

"You're – you're not going to –" Bertolt wanted him to answer yes, but respect demanded Reiner stop now.

"Oh, I'll make you have fun if it's the last thing I do." Reiner tried to drag Bertolt into the throng of dancers. "Tonight we're allowed fun."

Bertolt didn't budge. "No."

They didn't notice Connie poking Sasha and turning her attention to their struggle. They didn't even notice Annie watching them with interest as she deftly snuck an unsuspecting Armin spiked punch.

"Please. Dance with me," Reiner pled. "You have to. We're friends."

Bertolt's shoulders slumped. "Fine."

As they whirled around each other, Bertolt tried to copy every move of Reiner's, but his feet kept stumbling. "You're so agile."

"So are you," Reiner retorted. "Just let go of your consciousness. Feel for once."

I always feel. He never let those feelings flow free, though.

"Bertl." Reiner halted and reached up to wipe sweat from Bertolt's eyes. "Just you and me, okay? You and me."

His breath caught at the warmth of Reiner's palms. They were dancing and his thoughts raced with the music: he was gangly and ridiculous and maybe damned, but there was hope holding his hands and smiling at him, sharing everything with him and still loving him.

Love. He loved Reiner, his best friend. And this was fun.

This was one of those diamond moments, those moments he knew he could die happy.

He still thinks it's platonic, Reiner realized as Bertl stepped in front of a kicking couple to protect Reiner. But he's such a sweetheart.

I'm going to protect him and love him 'til my dying breath.