"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
In Eren's arms, Mikasa feels safe. She can hear his steady breathing and feel the warmth of his skin; she can fall asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. His even breathing lets her know he's fallen asleep long before she's even closed her eyes. He's sitting up, leaning against the wall of his bed, neck crooked. She knows he'll complain about it in the morning.
His arms are reassuring around her waist, and she grips his torso even tighter, worried if she lets go for a moment he'll vanish like most everything else in her life. They're in an unhealthy routine with her coming to his bed every night. Mikasa knows Eren has become her security blanket, but she can't bring herself to part with the moments of sanity he provides. Her world has so little guarantees anymore that she's learned to appreciate the moments of normality. With her head resting over his heart, Mikasa likes to consider herself its protector.
His legs are crossed, and she knows the cramps they'll have in the morning will be another complaint on his list. She wonders for a second why he never tells her to go back to her own bed. Her legs dangle over his, clearly visible in the open if anyone should look over. They're breaking too many rules and boundaries. She knows they'll be caught eventually by superiors, perhaps sent out of the corps in disgrace for their disobedience.
It wouldn't be such a bad thing, she thinks, to live out the rest of her life inside the walls with Eren. They would work hard together and find a small cabin like the one they grew up in. They'll have a dog, she thinks, because Eren would need the company of another living thing besides her. Or, maybe… Maybe they would have a family of their own, two children to raise together. The imagery causes her face to flush and she's glad Eren can't see her face in sleep.
She closes her eyes for a second and contemplates her earlier thought. Why doesn't Eren ever send her back to her own bed? They're risking a lot for these few hours of peace together and Eren has complaints about his aching body every morning. She debates leaving to her own bed once again. As she starts to slide out of his arms, she feels his hold on her tighten.
His voice is hoarse and cracked, laced with sleep, as he murmurs, "Stay." It's eerie to her the way he already seemed to know her plans. When did their minds become that connected? She glances up at him for a second and wishes, not for the first time, that she didn't need this comfort to fall asleep.
As she lays her head on his chest, she feels his breathing steady once more, and realizes she might not be the only one who needs it.
A/N: I'm not sure why the quote won't center properly when posted. My apologies, I hope it formats well on everyone else's devices.