With the prospect of having to decorate more thoroughly than initially planned, Levi buries himself in planning the perfect interior for his café. Expensive as the conversion will be, Levi is glad he never spent his military pay lightly throughout the years. Outside of his tea habit, he rarely bought anything that was not absolutely needed. As a result he can afford the additional changes to the downstairs area without having to borrow.
It quickly turns out that entering a place, and feeling its cosiness is well and good. Having a place and doing one's best to make it cosy, however, is something else entirely. Now Levi has to think about furnishings, not to mention comfortable ones. He's used to being provided with necessity class furnishings for years. Beyond that, he must admit, he's rather helpless in figuring out what's comfortable.
It's Hanji who helps again, accompanying him to cafés in nearby towns for research purposes, discussing why a place feels good or not, and debating even more ideas. She also helps him with outlining their decisions in rough sketches, telling Levi, quite unnecessarily, that the carpenters and upholsterers might understand his plans using her drawings over his "hideous scrawls." The kick against her shin for insulting his artwork gains him a snicker and a revengeful kick in return.
The renovations have shrunk Levi's savings down immensely, but he doesn't let it stop him from browsing for the best furniture materials he can get at a reasonable price. He's never been one to half-arse his way through a situation, and with the Sparrow being his only self-appointed project, not to mention his future means of income, it must be done properly.
Furthermore encouraged by Eren's voice in his head, that keeps reappearing in the most mistimed moments, Levi throws himself so deeply into selections of fabric samples and wood varieties, that they mingle with his usual dreams. It doesn't help to shut Eren out. He still is in everything Levi does.
"You know you want this brass counter," Eren's smooth voice says over a lonely cup of Gunpowder one drowsy morning. "It looks like the sun, doesn't it?"
It's too luxurious, Levi thinks back, but yes, he does want it.
The ghost rolls his eyes with a soft smile. "So what. You like it. Get it."
So brass counter it is.
One week later the voice returns as Levi goes over his final choice of fabric options at the upholsterer. He already knows he wants corduroy for the armchairs and is about to order the stunningly dark red one as his eyes catch a piece of green-blue so intense-sunning-perfect, that it could crash down Levi's world. His hand reaches out for it before he can stop himself, his fingertips brushing carefully over the soft, nearly iridescent surface.
The silky stubbles on Eren's neck felt exactly like it.
This one, he thinks, all of the sudden missing Eren so much that it's painful. The air is too thin, his skin too tight, and he has to blink.
"Are you sure?" Eren asks mildly. "You won't be able to stop thinking of me when you see it every day. You know?"
I already can't stop, Levi replies in his head as something inside him tears at the mere inevitability of it all.
A sigh. "Exactly."
Swallowing down his emotions, Levi forces his hand away from the enticing, colourful sample and chooses the red one. It fits better into the café anyway. Besides, Hanji will like the colour for her own armchair too. She's always liked red. It doesn't matter that this particular colour is expensive as fuck. She deserves it for putting up with his shit for so many years, and then some. She has stood beside him since he first bought the house, and has contributed too much for Levi to deny that she deserves every bit of comfort he can provide.
As things should turn out, the upholsterer makes Levi a special offer, nodding at a drawing of a family of four with himself, a smiling woman, a little girl, and a taller girl wearing a military uniform. "Thanks to you," he says, eyes serious and voice warm with pride. "She's still alive. About to marry, actually. He's a fine, young man. Honest eyes."
Telling the man that Levi has never seen this soldier, and certainly isn't to be credited for her survival, doesn't change anything. The upholsterer smiles, noting that he knows about the Special Operation Squad and all they did to win the war.
"Please," he continues sternly. "I insist."
Levi relents, but tells him to come to the café once it's open to have cake and tea on the house. The invitation is accepted with a widening grin, and the eagerly curious question if Levi will serve coffee too.
Deciding to not tell Hanji about this part of the conversation ever, Levi nods, and shakes the man's hand.
Ironically enough, the tiny details at the end of the road seem to take the longest to get sorted out. It begins with finding the right cinnamon rolls.
To be fair, Levi already knew this particular issue wasn't going to be easy as he begun talking to the local bakers. There's an exact flavour-texture combination he wants, and Levi won't settle for anything else. He quickly finds a confectioner he trusts. The family makes cherry pies so good that Hanji swears that Norman's bakery is the place where pies must go when they go to Heaven. However, cinnamon rolls turn out to be a different kettle of fish. They're either too sugary, too bland, too firm, or are too strong on the cardamom, or too weak.
"Levi," Hanji tries to reason. "It's just a cinnamon roll. It's delicious! I don't see your point in not wanting it. You're usually not this anal when it comes to food." She snorts at her own joke, but gurns when Levi doesn't join in. "Okay, what is it this time?"
"It's falling apart too easily." He lifts one end of the curled up pastry, and it loosens directly from the rest of the bun. "Norman said so himself. It should stick together better."
"Is this because of Eren?"
"It's because it's not right," Levi insists with a snappish tone.
Hanji sighs. "Does that mean I can have both, then?"
He hands over his plate. She looks a bit too thin these days anyway.
Whereas Levi goes intense over baked goods, he's overstrained when it comes to cutlery.
"I don't like this pastry fork, Levi," Hanji says one stormy afternoon, holding out a fork that looks exactly like the other one she's shown him, telling him it was nice.
He frowns. "They all look the same to me."
"How can you say that! Look," she says, holding out the previous fork again. "This one has a broader tooth at its side so you can cut through cakes and pie crusts better, I presume." She reaches for the other fork once more to hold it directly under his nose. "And this one has a different handle. It's edgy. See?"
Not recoiling one bit from the pointy item directly before his eyes, Levi folds his arms. "Then pick the first one. I'm shit at this."
"It's your café, not mine," Hanji protests. "Details like this are important, Levi. Remember when you told me about knife handles? This is the knife handle of your café. It will be not be the same knife with another handle, because another one would change the weight and balance of everything. You know that. You gave me a whole evening lecture."
Listening to her stream of words, he blinks. "What you're telling me here is, that we spent four months renovating this building, and yet my café's future will all depend on whether or not I pick a certain kind of fork?"
She grins and finally pulls back the fork under his nose. "Ah, now we understand each other! I'm so glad."
He realises Hanji won't make this decision outright. "Whatever. The first one. Because of that broader tooth. It's more practical, I guess."
Hanji snorts. "You're supposed to like it, not find it practical."
Giving a chin jerk kind of nod at the fork in her hand, Levi fold his arms. "This one."
"Alright." She beams, putting the forks away before reaching for another box. "Napkins next. Then lamps and candles."
Levi holds back a sigh.
The choice of china for the café is much easier, yet harder at the same time. It's easier, since Levi knows exactly what he wants. Plain, white china. No bells and whistles. It's easier, since it feels so obvious; simple, and right.
It's harder, since seemingly "this style is out of fashion, Sir," as yet another vendor tells him hastily with a greasy smile and a voice that feels sticky.
Upon meeting Levi's frown, he begins to pale slightly, but quickly relocates his officiousness. "If I can interest you in this rose decor, though?" he continues. "For a special price, of course. It would be my honour to supply the café of a war hero-"
Levi turns around and leaves the shop without a further word. It's one thing to accept a discount offered with a cordial intention. Stroking one's ego is another. He's always loathed brown-nosers.
It takes him the good part of a month, but he finally sees the china he wants. It's shyly presented on a shelf in the corner of an old china shop. The store is run by a wrinkly woman with a bent back, shabby wardrobe, and sharp, yet kind eyes. Levi smiles and buys enough so he'll have a good amount of backup plates and cups, expecting some to break. He buys an extra big coffee mug for Hanji too.
By the end of July the furniture arrives. After commenting that she thought Levi would have gone with Survey Corps reminiscent green upholstery, Hanji helps him set it up. They work on organising the tables on the same day the scribe comes to paint the name of the café onto the window front. Both jobs take about the same time. Levi and Hanji are inside pushing the chairs and tables back and forth until everything feels right. Meanwhile the scribe is diligently drawing each letter into a tasteful line that has Levi look forward to the result as he glances his way. When they're all finished, it's afternoon. Levi nods at the place, feeling actual pride rush through his veins.
He's got a small café now. It even looks like one.
The brass counter has been delivered, and set up the previous week. It stands directly next to the entrance on the left side, partially blocking where the doorway to the staff department frames the wall. To the right is a collection of narrow tables, most of them in combination with simple, but comfortably padded, red—not green—corduroy and wood chairs. The two smaller tables are framed by the two red corduroy armchairs each. The fifth armchair is similar, and they carried it upstairs to his flat. Going by Hanji's reaction, she likes the gift almost as much as Levi likes his leather monster residing beside it in front of the hearth.
Hanji seems to like the café, and Levi has to agree. The dark furniture compliments the hue of the wooden floor he installed during the hottest week of summer to date. Levi thinks back to the day when he talked to the carpenter about the choice of material. Oak with its previously light colour starkly changed by smoking reminded Levi of Eren's hair. Watching the afternoon sun cast though the windows now, he thinks the wooden floor looks even better like this. It's a wonderful mix of bright tones; golden honey with darker tints that remind Levi of well-used and cared for saddle leather.
After paying the scribe for a job well done, Levi looks at the building from the outside. Aside from the actual tea and coffee, which should arrive any day now, plus cake and customers, the Sparrow is finished. It's ready to be made lively with people, with talkings and laughter.
"Thank you," he says to Hanji and frowns. The simple words don't feel sufficient, not even close. It also still feels like he hasn't done enough.
Next to him, Hanji grins and slaps his shoulder. "One more thing is still missing, though."
"What," Levi demands, torn between relief and worry that Hanji has noticed too.
Cackling, she steps back inside, marching into the staff department. A few moments later, she emerges with a little paper box.
"No," Levi insists with a glare. "No more gifts."
The package she pushes into his hand feels surprisingly heavy. "It's not a gift. You payed for it. It's still a surprise."
He bristles. "You went behind my back and ordered knickknack I don't need?"
Rolling her eyes, Hanji sighs. "Just open it, Grumpy."
Levi complies, lifting the paper lid, and freezes as his heart kicks against his throat.
"It's a bell," he murmurs, stating the obvious.
"Because what would a café be without one, right?" Hanji replies.
Levi picks the bell up, and it gives a single, resonant chime. It's a clear, beautiful sound, that feels a bit like out of this world as it shoots a wave of energy down Levi's spine. It sounds exactly like the one in the café he's visited with Eren back then.
"Honestly, Levi," Hanji chatters on, "I can't believe you didn't think of getting one yourself. A good café needs a bell on its door. Everyone knows that."
Levi blinks. He has completely forgotten about the bell until now.
"The box also contains a small rack for attaching it. I didn't know which material you'd like, but the smith said iron would be best, and the sound is nice, don't you think?"
There must be words in his head, but Levi can't find any of them to reply.
"Please tell me you like it," Hanji says into his overwhelmed state of silence.
Looking up at her expression that's caught somewhere between concern and hope, Levi reaches out with his hand to squeeze her arm. "Thank you," he manages, keeping his scratchy voice as calm and steady as he can. "It's good."
"Yes!" Hanji exclaims as the smile in her eyes fills with such relief and happiness that Levi smiles back.
Not hesitating any longer, he fetches some tools alongside a small ladder, to mount the bell to the inside of the door. As he gives it a test run by opening and closing the door, he listens to another set of clear tinkles. A grateful warmth is enveloping him from the inside out, and completion settles over the place.
It truly was the final item missing. As far as objects go anyway.
Looking up at the bell once more, Levi smiles. He might not have many friends left, but the one he does have must be the best anyone could ever have. "Whisky on me tonight," he says.
Hanji cheers.
Experience has taught Levi that if things seem to go well, it's often right before they turn into utter rubbish. To his surprise, however, the setback he's awaiting over the following week fails to appear. Instead things go almost frighteningly smooth. Thus the 'Sparrow, Tea and More' opens its door on a rainy day in August right on schedule.
The summer shower is a blessing. It doesn't take long for the first people to enter the café whilst seeking refuge from the rain. They step in with curious glances and shy smiles to order the first rounds of tea or coffee, and cake.
Hanji arrives in the afternoon, some familiar Survey Corps soldiers in tow. They give Levi their congratulations before Hanji orders "five cups of vile black coffee" with a shit eating grin. Levi comments on it with nothing beyond a professional nod that makes her laugh.
"How's it going?" Hanji asks once she's calmed down from her laughing fit, and Levi is delivering their order. It's good to see familiar faces, and hear their voices after not seeing them in months.
"Not bad," Levi admits, noticing her beam as she accepts her own, extra big mug.
With the first flood of customers abating in the late noon, it has been quiet. Levi knows these things need time to become routine. At least the customers he's had so far seemed pleased when they left. Even the coffee, Levi admits as he refills cups for Hanji and her company, truly was a good idea. As was the cake and other dessert items.
The only thing missing, Levi thinks once more as he lets his gaze wander over the room, is Eren. His ghost is still here in one way or the other, though. He's in the dark, wooden floor and furniture. In the brass counter, in the memories brought on Gunpowder tea, in the white colour on the walls, even in the red-not-green, yet beautiful and cosy corduroy armchairs. Eren's influence is felt in the light that shines through the windows, painting the café in warm colours. He's there in the shadows too, where he's always been ever since the day he left. It must be enough, Levi reminds himself.
Within the first week, it becomes clear that Hanji is the first of Levi's regular customers. Other soldiers follow her inside during their own free time, and the Survey Corps presence quickly makes the Sparrow feel like some kind of military resort. The Corps is still taking care of one of their own, and their rompy conversations lighten the mood in the Sparrow immensely, even if Levi doesn't have much to say aloud in return.
Levi's upholsterer steps in during the first week as well, bringing along his family. They all greet him with smiles and congratulations to opening the café. The little girl from the picture has grown since the painting has been made and is probably in her early teens now. She looks up at Levi with a grin that tells him, that this kid is a card. She isn't shy either.
"Nice to meet you, Captain Levi," she announces, holding out her hand. "Thank you for what you did during the war. I'm Rita."
After hesitating for a brief moment, Levi reaches over the counter to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you too, Rita."
She retreats her hand. "I'll be a Survey Corps Soldier one day, just like you." Whereas her sister giggles reservedly into her hand, their mother merely sighs silently.
Levi lifts an eyebrow at Rita. "Is that so?"
"Yes," she enthuses. "I'll enlist for Training next season."
It's not an empty promise. Levi can tell this much. "What if they don't recruit new soldiers anymore?" he asks.
"Why shouldn't they?" she counters bluntly.
Sharing a short glance with Rita's father, who simply shrugs, Levi folds his arms. "You probably already know they're downsizing," he challenges her curiously. "What if the Scouts don't come back? The Military wouldn't like to send out more on their expenses if it wouldn't be profitable in the end."
"The Scouts have a shifter with them," she says as self-assuredly as if she'd explain that one and two equals two. "I heard he's one of the best. They'll come back. You're the most reliable fighters we have."
Her sister shifts slightly in her pose, but doesn't seem to be offended.
"People tend to make stupid decisions," Levi points out.
Undeterred by his counter argument, Rita angles her head and throws Levi a surprisingly astute look which blatantly conveys a 'nobody will fuck with me' attitude. "I know," she states conspiratorially. "People can be idiots, can't they? If they shut the Scouts down before it's time for me to enlist, I'll help Dad in the shop. I'd much rather be out there, though. The world must be huge!" The sigh she heaves is equal parts dreamy and decisive. Then she seems to notice Levi's apron. "Do you still have your uniform and gear? Do you still fly out there sometimes?"
"Rita," her father interferes. "What did we tell you?"
Putting on a determinedly stubborn, yet all the same carefree expression, Rita turns around. "You told me to be polite. I am."
"We told you to restrain yourself, young lady, especially in front of people who don't know you." Her mother reminds her, her brown eyes searching Levi's with an apologetic frown. At the words 'young lady,' Rita pulls a face. "I'm sorry, Sir."
In assurance, Levi shakes his head. "Don't worry. And no, I don't," he answers Rita's initial question.
The disappointment seems to weigh heavy on her shoulders. "Well, that's a bummer."
"The uniform and gear belong to the military, silly," her sister advises mildly. "I already told you."
"But, he's Captain Levi," Rita retorts, perking up with indignation. "He saved us. I would have let him keep the uniform." Grinning once more, she turns back to Levi. "Is it true you had no military training whatsoever when you were recruited? That's so cool!"
Levi bites back a smirk. It's been long since he last met someone this eager to join the forces. Actually, he's never seen someone this eager to enlist in the Scouts at all, except one. As soon as the thought is there, the expected sting follows, and Levi casts Eren's image aside.
"Alright, that's enough for today, Rita," her father diverts determinedly whilst ruffling Rita's hair until she laughs. "We're here to try tea and eat cake after all. What can you recommend, Sir? Do I see some of Norman's cherry pies in that display? I heard, he is your baker."
In spite of her parent's interference, Rita clearly isn't done with her interrogation. After the family has finished their shared tea and cake on the house, she passes the counter with a wave and an enthused: "I'll be back, Captain."
As her mother guides Rita out of the door with a loving gaze, alongside an exasperated set of her shoulders, Levi watches them leave. He can't help the amused thought that if Rita should ever be under Hanji's command, they'll both be a perfect challenge for each other.
Apparently the family has liked their visit at the Sparrow, since only a few days later, Rita's sister returns, leading a couple of off duty members of the Military Police into the café. Norman and his family are curious as well. They seem to spell each other at their visits during quiet hours at the bakery.
"You've got rather long opening hours for a one man business," Norman's wife says lightly, her sweet-natured face adorned by a faint blush.
"It's a café, Evelyn," Levi explains, counting the change for a can of Darjeeling she bought.
She accepts the money with a smile and puts it away into her small pouch. "That might be true, but when do you buy your food? You live alone too. Don't you?"
He raises an eyebrow at her curiosity, and her blush spreads even more.
"I'm sorry," she adds hastily, peering down at her hands before meeting Levi's eyes again. "I don't want to intrude. I only was thinking… If you need anything for yourself that we can provide, we'd be happy to add it to the morning deliveries. We have good connections to the local farmers too, so if you need anything, feel free to ask."
Frowning, Levi considers it for a moment. It's the second week of the Sparrow, and it's already clear that the offer, though perhaps a bit overeager on her part, is a reasonable one.
Giving her a small nod, he fetches a sheet of wax paper to wrap it around her can of Darjeeling. "What would it cost to add a loaf of bread every now and then?" he asks.
"No extra fee," Evelyn announces proudly, visibly straightening up with zealously gleaming eyes. "Apart from the bread, of course. We could add butter and milk. Eggs too, naturally. No cheese or meat, I'm afraid, but we know Katinka from the farm with that lovely goat curd, and Arne. You know, the hunter. And Svend the butcher too. We can tell them to come over if you'd like. They should know about your café anyway. It's a lovely place. One can tell you put lots of care into it."
Levi can't shake the feeling that he gets a special treatment here. It's kindly meant, though, and he knows Evelyn cares a big deal, so he only gives her another nod. "Don't overdo it," he orders nonetheless. "And one loaf of that rye bread for tomorrow."
"Wonderful." She beams, takes her wrapped caddie, and leaves with a gush of assurances, that Levi won't regret this.
He guesses, he truly won't.
With Evelyn working in the background, the word about the Sparrow spreads rapidly. So rapidly, in fact, that Levi can't help but suspect, there must be a rub to it.
Hanji seems to think differently.
"See?" She grins at him one rainy day after she gulped down her new habitual morning coffee. "The café plan was a good choice for you. Also, the new apron suits you. I like that it's black. Just like your soul."
Levi glares, but can't bring himself to put much venom into it. He owes her too much, and she can tease him as much as she likes.
"It's a shame you don't offer proper breakfast though," Hanji says, chewing on a mouthful of cherry pie. "Don't get me wrong, this thing tastes divine. But what about pretzels, or something? Something savoury."
Wondering why it's always her ideas that are the best, Levi refills her coffee. "I'll talk to Norman."