Eren had spent the entirety of Saturday and Sunday with every single court document, report card, test score, medical examination, and instant messenger username list (he had no idea how this could possibly be relevant) pertaining to Connie Springer spread out over the better part of the kitchen table. He flipped one pen between the fingers of his left hand, another clenched between his teeth, another jammed behind his ear.

"You know those are supposed to stay in the office, right?" Mikasa asked. He looked up. She was pulling her long hair into a ponytail, her running shoes balanced between her knees.

He pulled the pen from his teeth. "So I'll sneak in early on Monday and put them back in my desk and nobody has to know."

"You don't have a key," she said in her trademark my brother is a brainless idiot voice.

He hadn't actually thought of that, but wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "Ms. Ral will let me in, I'll bet. I think she likes me."

"Like in a creepy way or a congenial way?" Mikasa sat next to him to lace up her shoes.

Eren laughed and stretched like a cat, reaching his arms over the table until he felt his spine pop. "Like in a normal way. She treated me to some surprising but pleasant shit-talking about Levi in the elevator on Friday."

Mikasa's gray eyes were supremely unimpressed. "Are you trying to get yourself fired?"

"Of course not." He turned back to his notes. "I just refuse to lick his feet."

"There's a pretty big difference between not licking someone's feet and coming just this side of being an asshole."

He made a face at her. "Says you, who not two days ago sat here and said 'oh, he's just a man,'" he said in an unflattering falsetto that didn't sound like her at all.

She slugged him in the arm. "That's not what I meant. You know there's a certain degree of ass-kissing in the professional world. But like, you don't even seem to like him. Last year, you were all 'Levi Ackerman' this and 'Levi Ackerman' that, and now you look like you're going to blow an artery every time you're in the same room with him."

"I liked him until I found out he was so goddam unlikable," Eren complained loudly. "He's so grouchy and unapproachable and annoying. I actually wish he was conceited so that I could have another reason to dislike him. I mean, sure, he's fairly good-looking—" "Eren!" "—but it's totally ruined by the fact that his personality is so terrible, oh my god. I mean, Erwin brings us doughnuts. Doughnuts! What kind of boss does that?"

Mikasa smiled slyly. "Actually, when I worked at the tourist bureau in undergrad, Jean brought in doughnuts all the time."

Eren's displeased face returned. "That's because he's in love with you! Actually, wait. If Erwin bringing in doughnuts is a sign of his love for me, bring it the fuck on. I could learn to live with that."

Mikasa groaned. "You are so gross and hopeless." He cackled. "Tell me you won't actually sleep with either of your bosses."

"Oh, I'm not planning on it," he said soberly. "In fact, the reason I've been spending my weekend doing some of the most miserable work imaginable is so that tomorrow I can prove to Levi that I deserve better than this."

"Eren…" Mikasa said warningly.

"Hear me out," he held up a hand. "First I'm going to blow this one out of the water and dazzle him with my intellect and poise." He ignored his sister's snort. "Then I'm going to ask him for something better."

"But you've taken two weeks on this one and have basically discovered nothing."

He rubbed at the spot between his eyes. "That's because this case isn't worth my time," he sighed. "All around the world there are so many important things happening and I'm saddled with some shit with a DUI, really?"

He expected Mikasa to shame him—she was amazingly good at it—but instead she sighed, putting her chin in her hand. He looked up at her finally; she was watching him with an expression he couldn't read. Shame burned in his stomach even though she hadn't said a word. He hated the feeling that she was trying to weigh whether or not it was worth her time to speak. She reached over and brushed his hair from his eyes with cool fingers. "I would have agreed with you, once." He blinked in surprise. "The world is a cruel place, and why should we waste time on people who don't help themselves? Why waste time on DUIs when there's a serial killer in the city? But," she shrugged, "it's also a beautiful place."

"Meaning…?"

"That just because you don't find this case important doesn't mean it isn't important," she said calmly. "Do the dishes, please."

He dropped his head to the table and groaned. Why was it his fate to be surrounded by moral relativists?

The next afternoon he sat at his desk and counted the minutes. His tie was mostly straight, his hair was mostly beat back into submission, and he had half a dozen copies of his summary lest, heaven forbid, he managed to lose one between his desk and Levi's office. Petra had covered for him, placated by the double-chocolate cherry latte he'd brought her, and had stuffed the court doc copies he'd made into the shredder with a wink. He cracked his knuckles and rose to his feet unsteadily as Levi barked out, "Jaeger!"

Levi was contemplating the contents of his teacup; he held out his hand automatically for the copy of the memo in Eren's hand. He gestured to the chair in front of him. "Have a seat."

Eren sank down with controlled slowness. He wasn't sure if the burning under his skin was due to nervousness or the fact that Levi's office was an oven. He pressed himself a little firmer against the leather, aching for the feeling of coolness against his skin.

"Well, Jaeger? What are your conclusions?" Levi asked, expression carefully neutral.

Eren's heart thudded painfully, making his ears ring. His fingers twisted together, and he dug his nails into his skin to remind himself that he had this worked out. He had finesse for once in his life, damn it. "I think the case is shit," he blurted out, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth. "I mean, oh fuck." He dropped his hand, taking a deep breath. Ah, to hell with it. "Actually, no, that's exactly what I mean. I've worked out a plausible course of action, but it was motivated by my firm belief that this case is complete shit. Sir," he tacked on. He wasn't above being aggressively polite if it would keep his ass employed.

Levi had one eyebrow raised. "Do go on," he said dryly.

Eren cleared his throat. "I looked at Connie Springer's past charges," he said, gesturing to the memo he'd given Levi, who obligingly tried to angle it in such a way that he could read it, clearly failing. I hear there are these great twelfth century inventions called reading glasses; you can even get them at the nearest gas station, Eren thought spitefully. The sudden sarcasm made him feel much better. "In all of his past cases—believe me, it's damn impressive—there are two similarities: his mother always blames his actions on ADHD, and his father always whips out his checkbook. And boom: charges dropped, case dismissed."

"And?"

"At first I didn't think it was relevant to learn he had just moved from Ragako a year ago, but I think his mother will try to use it, kind of like 'we just moved here and he's acting out and the move has really exacerbated his ADHD.' But there are two pretty big holes with this. One, a year is a pretty long time for a teenager, and I think most people would have reasonably adjusted by then. Two, and more concretely, he has some incredibly good grades for a kid with ADHD."

"How do you know the parents aren't greasing the teachers' pockets?" Levi asked sharply.

He's fast, Eren thought with grudging admiration. "Because he goes to St. Klorva's Academy," Eren fired back, quoting the name of the most prestigious school in the city. "You don't have to be wealthy to go there, but you do have to be dead smart. Didn't you hear? They rejected the president's daughter's application last year. She was trying to get into their high school program, but she only had like a 140 on her test scores. St. Klorva's average is like, 177."

"So it's possible that the Springers have greased the palms of a doctor along the way, or else they really do believe their son has ADHD, in lieu of accepting he's just a shitty kid," Levi murmured. "Not important to this scenario necessarily. This should be good enough. So, you wanna take this thing to court, or what?"

Eren's elbow slipped off the armrest. "Can I?"

Levi rolled his eyes. "Assuming you don't piss yourself, yes, I suppose you can. Your research was better than I expected, and I think if you overemphasize the part where he—" Levi squinted at the page—"blew up a barn…? Christ. Okay. If you overemphasize THAT, plus the cocaine-and-hookers fiasco that was his sixteenth birthday party, you should successfully convince the judge he's a menace to society. Not bad, Jaeger."

Though his mind told him to continue looking at Levi with total dispassion, Eren grinned, feeling his face flush. "Thank you, sir. But I do have a question. Why were you so bent on, as you put it, 'burying' him?"

Levi regarded him, silvery eyes less narrowed than usual. "It doesn't really have anything to do with him or his family," he said nonchalantly. "I don't care if he has a DUI or if he murdered the president while doing the Mexican hat dance. Frankly, I think it's dangerous when people don't follow through the natural consequences of his actions, and by preventing him from doing so, his parents clearly haven't done him any favors." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Just do what you can."

Eren had the feeling the meeting was about to end. "What should I do now?"

Levi frowned at him. "What the hell do you think? Go make sure your statements are absolutely perfect, pull out all the stops, et cetera."

"Wait…you mean that's it?"

Levi's eyes narrowed. "Were you expecting something else?"

Eren balled his fists and jutted his chin, steeling himself and knowing in advance it was a tremendous mistake. Probably. "Sir, I want a real case."

Levi snorted. "I'm pretty sure Connie Springer isn't imaginary."

"That's not what I meant," Eren said. "I meant… I meant. There are—there have to be—cases that are meaningful. Something where I can make an impact where—"

"Let me stop you right there, because if you're one of the doe-eyed brats who entered the legal profession thinking you're going to change the world, you should probably stop. Not that you couldn't change the world, but I really wouldn't count on it," Levi said dryly.

"That's not what I meant, either."

"Then what did you mean?"

Eren felt heady, reckless, angry. "Quit fucking insulting me and give me something that's a little more challenging than the pro bono work I did as a first-year."

Levi's eyebrows arched high. "What the fuck makes you think you're qualified?"

Eren cocked his head. "What makes you think I'm not?"

Levi sat perfectly still for several seconds and let out a harsh bark of a laugh that startled Eren. "Jaeger, you are undoubtedly the most spoiled and self-entitled shitty brat I've ever hired. You want something harder? Fine." He stood and crossed to one of the file cabinets, rummaging til he yanked out a portfolio held together with rubber bands and several satanic sacrifices. He came toe to toe with Eren and shoved the portfolio into Eren's chest with enough force that it took substantial willpower not to stagger backwards.

He hadn't expected the shorter man to be so strong. This close to Levi, he could smell the man—orange peel and mild soap. He had a very faint blush on his cheeks, whether from heat or anger Eren couldn't tell, but it definitely improved his pale complexion. His eyes were liquid silver and impossibly narrowed.

"This is Nicholas Lobov. This is your case and you're taking it to court. You have two options," Levi said, his voice very low and silky.

"And they are?" Eren asked.

Levi smiled in a very dangerous way. "Bury him alive, or you're out on your ass. Now," he said, voice dropping another degree, "Get. Out. Of my office."

Eren dropped the file on his desk and sat, forcing himself to breathe deeply and evenly. His heart pounded fiercely and his head swam.

"Um. Eren? Why are you grinning like that?" Armin asked, looking over at him with a concerned look on his face."

"No reason," he replied quickly.

"Well, cut it out, you look like a criminal," Armin shuddered.

Eren managed to work his maniacal grin into a self-satisfied smirk. He had argued with Levi and won. He hadn't gotten fired. And perhaps sweetest of all—he'd managed to rattle that infuriating man.

Much, much later that night, he would realize that there was something distinctly alluring about an enraged Levi, bury his face in his pillow, and groan.

Erwin knocked on Levi's door not ten minutes later. "I heard anger," he said, holding out a cup of mint tea.

Levi's teeth were clenched so hard his jaw was beginning to ache. "I hate Eren Jaeger," he hissed, loosening his jaw enough to swallow a mouthful of tea.

Erwin made himself at home in the chair across from his desk. Levi was regretting that chair. Having a chair encouraged people to loiter. It encouraged people to think their loitering was something nicer and less noxious than loitering. Then again, even if Erwin knew he was loitering, Levi knew he wouldn't care. He crossed his legs and leaned back, oversized frame looking ridiculous in the minimalistic chair. "Well, go on."

Levi scowled. "I'm not sure how, but I'm pretty sure this is partially your fault. You just had to give your underlings better cases than I gave mine."

"That's because I don't make a habit of underestimating people."

"I was trying to be considerate," he grumbled. "I thought they'd appreciate something relatively easy before shit hits the fan, but noooo, you just had to go and give the Aryan Brotherhood soul-crushing cases, and they had to brag about it, and Jaeger had to get a big head."

"Aryan Brotherhood? That's rather offensive."

"You're all so…blonde," Levi retorted, in the same tone of voice he might have used to say 'unclean' or 'obnoxious.'

"Are you quite certain Eren wouldn't have gotten a big head anyway?" Erwin asked mildly.

Levi's head snapped up. "Oh, my god, you're enjoying this," he said hollowly.

"Enjoying you being challenged? Me? Enjoying it? No," Erwin smiled coyly. "In all seriousness," he raised a placating hand, "do I think Eren should be insubordinate? No. Do I think you underestimated him and now you're paying for it? Absolutely. I think he ought to learn—and I'm sure you'll agree—that not every case is going to be glamorous or consequential. But you ought to learn—and here you won't agree—that discrediting people based on whatever bizarre criterion you invent is, frankly, a terrible idea, and I'm saying this as someone who is technically your boss," he said sternly. "But why did you? You didn't seem to treat Mikasa the same way."

Levi was reminded yet again that his tendency not to remember (or was it a tendency to willfully refuse to memorize?) the names of people who worked for him was probably not charming in the slightest. His mouth twisted in irritation. "Because," he said in a pinched voice, "he reminds me of someone I once knew who wouldn't know the word 'limitation' if it kicked her in the ass, and…well." He shrugged.

A sharp light glinted in Erwin's eyes. "You're talking about Isabel, aren't you?"

Levi had picked an incredibly bad time to take a sip of tea. Sputtering painfully, he rubbed his chest. "How the fuck do you know about her?" he wheezed, pounding on his ribs.

Erwin looked away guiltily. "Um."

"It was Hanji, wasn't it." He said flatly. "How much did he tell you."

"Not much, really," Erwin conceded. "Hanji was just talking about how part of—I quote—'Levi got to be so damn disagreeable' was because you lost two people close to you, and the names were mentioned, but that's it. I think even motormouthed Hanji knows it's your story to tell alone."

Levi's stomach unclenched minutely in relief. "Good, I don't have to indiscriminately go around murdering all the people who've annoyed me today."

Erwin chuckled. "Interesting how the simple act of people caring about you annoys you so much."

Levi worked up an impressive glare, but was cut off by his phone buzzing against his leg. "Short Stuff! I have good news and bad news, what do you want first?" Hanji asked at an earsplitting volume.

"Inside voices, you bespectacled catastrophe," Levi snapped, pulling the phone several inches away from his ear. "Good news first. Hell, come up with good news last. Make it a good news sandwich." God knows I need it.

"Good news: we cracked the cipher found with Mina Carolina's body. Bad news: as far as we can tell, it has absolutely nothing to do with any of the other cases." Levi winced; he was really counting on it being similar to the others so that it would make it easier to get Bertholdt Hoover off the hook—he already had solid alibis for all the other murders. "There is actually another good piece of news, now that you mention it. Someone turned in a piece of paper that appears to be related to all of this, somehow. We're still working on it—it's written in this crazy shorthand you wouldn't believe, and it's clear it doesn't translate to English and it's in a cipher, but you should come see it anyway!"

Hanji would have continued prattling on for probably several sunlit days, but Levi suddenly remembered that Erwin was still in the room, and, judging by the look on his face, had heard everything. "Thanks, Four Eyes. I'll be in touch." He shut the phone off before Hanji could edge in another word and crossed his arms, meeting Erwin's steady gaze.

"You realize we're lawyers, not police detectives, right?" Erwin asked after a beat.

"Yep."

"Then why are you…? This goes deeper than that Hoover kid, doesn't it?"

God, why was everyone around him suddenly flexing their intuition? Levi sighed. He'd never been able to lie convincingly to Erwin. Lawyers were like that. Being well-versed in reading body language made it difficult to lie to one another, or perhaps he and Erwin simply knew each other too well. "I don't know yet. Honestly."

Erwin nodded carefully. "Do you think it's him?"

Levi grimaced. "Christ, I hope not."

Erwin nodded again, apparently satisfied. "Well, you'd better get out of here if you're going to make it on time."

Levi stared at him. "Make what?"

The taller man rolled his eyes. "Honestly, don't you read the planner I give you without fail every Christmas that Petra so patiently fills in for you? You have an eye doctor's appointment today because of the headaches you've been getting. It's in an hour, so you should probably get going."

Levi frowned. He felt like an eye doctor's appointment was something he'd remember, since it was something he'd been distinctly avoiding. He pulled the planner out of the side drawer of his desk and flipped through it, cursing under his breath. If I walk out of there with glasses, I'm firing Petra, he told himself pettily. He made his way out of the office and down to the car waiting for him in the cool garage. Owning a car in the city was by no means practical, but he figured he'd done his time with years of public transit, could afford to maintain a car and not keep it parked outside, and, best of all, could keep strict control over what came in his car. He could say in absolute faith his car was clean enough to eat off of, though he'd rather die than have food in his car. Not to mention, being able to afford a prime piece of German engineering was just so satisfying, even if it made him feel like a yuppie.

At this time of day, his car was made for the largely empty freeways. It hugged the curves nicely, the music neatly blocked out the sound of the engine, and, unlike the case with his office, the air conditioner worked.

Given the state of his day so far, he was completely unsurprised when he got pulled over.

"Was I speeding?" Levi asked in a tone he hoped wasn't insolence.

The officer squinted down at him. "Oh. Hey, Levi. I about didn't see you there," he joked.

Levi fought the urge to groan, though running the man over would have made him happier. Officer Nile was by far his least favorite member of civic society, if for no other reason than because he found Levi's height (or lack thereof) absolutely hilarious. "Hello, Nile. Was I speeding?" he asked again, letting annoyance creep into his voice.

"No, but you did pass someone in a no-pass zone," Nile sighed and shook his head, like he was announcing the worst damn tragedy in the world.

Levi frowned, genuinely confused. "I did? Where's the sign?"

"Back there, at the Stohess exit," Nile pointed.

"When did they put that up?"

"I don't know, a year ago?"

"Really?" If Levi were a lesser man, he'd feel embarrassed. "I didn't, ah. I didn't see it."

"Ah, well, no harm done. Wouldn't have pulled it over if I'd known it was you," Nile winked conspiratorially. It made Levi hate him. "Well, I won't give you a ticket, you have a good record and you look like you're in a hurry. Where are you off to?"

"An eye doctor's appointment," Levi said through gritted teeth, which Nile found hilarious. He thumped the roof of Levi's car twice (Fuck me I'll kill him if he dented it) and pulled back out into the freeway, honking a few short blasts. Levi shuddered in annoyance and disgust.

He came into work the next morning fifteen minutes late with a cup of coffee in hand like the perfect cliché of an undergraduate. "Don't say a word," he hissed to Petra, whose brow creased in confusion. "Don't pretend you're not pleased about these." He pointed fiercely to his face, where a new pair of tortoiseshell glasses now sat.

"Um…they look nice on you, but I don't understand why you're upset?" Petra asked cautiously.

"Oh, for fucking—my conscience sounds like you!" he groaned, slamming his office door so the glass rattled.