Karma pushed the rolling chair up the ramp, a small bump shaking her arms when they hit that one nail that hadn't been hammered in quite deep enough.

"Damn nail," Levi said every time, but it never failed to make Karma giggle.

She wheeled Levi across the threshold with another bump. The cottage was simple, but theirs. A worn loveseat, a standing lamp, some abstract oil paintings from Karma's artistic phase, and a wet bar beneath the window that had taken some convincing from Levi before she finally caved—fine, it was nice having alcohol readily available. Though it did her no good now.

Despite only having one working leg, Levi still managed to run a tight ship, hobbling to dust the door frames, balancing against the sink to scrub the dishes, hanging fresh laundry. Karma had learned to keep up, but she was still well-acquainted with the reprimands that made her eyes roll back with a smile when she missed a streak of dust or didn't quite scrub out the ketchup stains.

Their living room was quiet compared to the mayhem they'd escaped. And Karma couldn't have left soon enough—a wave of that daily nausea swept over her. Mikasa had offered tea, but Karma knew it would do little to block out the screaming kids. The best cure was simply to relax at home.

In an end table drawer was a bundle of herbs tied with a white string. Karma struck a match and waved it along the leaves until they curled inward. Earthy smoke wafted beneath her nose. She sank into the sofa with a sigh.

"The hell is that?" Levi said, shuffling in his wheelchair to slide out of his wool coat. He stretched his arm and managed to catch the lip of the coat collar on a hook.

"Burning sage helps with stress, according to Jean. Could be a load of voodoo, but it smells nice."

"Guess he would know with all those damn kids. It's too bad they took after him—that place was a goddamn zoo. Can't even imagine." Levi hoisted himself onto his good leg and made for the wet bar.

"You got it?" she said, readying herself to stand.

"Yeah." He balanced on the loveseat, scooting a hand along the spine.

Decanters of deep amber glistened beside clear, stacked glasses. "This is why we have alcohol," Levi said as he poured a dark drink with a pungent aroma. "Want a glass?"

"Bleh," Karma said, dramatizing a gag.

"Forgot you hate whiskey."

"It just reminds me of how you almost died, Captain."

Levi smirked at what Karma considered a term of endearment. He hadn't been a "Captain" for a couple years now. After stopping The Rumbling, the surviving Scouts were honorably discharged from the military.

Karma didn't think she warranted an honorable discharge, given how she was unconscious for the final battle that made her and all of her comrades war heroes. But Levi insisted that she did more to save the world than she knew.

"What's up with you? Why the sage?" Levi said, hovering the glass an inch from his lips to talk, his good hip resting against the table.

"I've just been stressed lately, I don't know." In truth, she did know, but she wasn't going to delve into the morning sickness and mood swings—Levi still hadn't warmed up to the idea of kids. But he'd come around eventually. Hopefully. It couldn't stay secret forever.

Levi put his drink down. It clinked on the marble coaster.

"Forget sage and whiskey. I know what'll cheer you up," he said, using the couch to limp back to his wheelchair.

"What?"

"Dancing."

Karma laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. "No thanks. Dancing by myself in the middle of the living room is just gonna make me feel like an idiot."

Levi settled in his chair and wheeled himself over until the footrest nudged Karma's shin. "Come here." He grabbed her waist and guided her onto his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"I already told you."

Levi wheeled the chair back and forth in the cadence of a waltz. Then they spun in slow circles. His chest vibrated. She pressed her ear above his collarbone and realized he was humming. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Captain…" She wrapped her arms around his neck and curled into a ball, tucking her feet against him. She closed her eyes and memorized the moment.

This was probably as good a time as any to break the news—he was in such a happy mood, though it could just be the whiskey.

"Um, Levi, I have to tell you something."

"What?" He rested his cheek against her head, still swaying them across the hardwood floor.

"I found out that I'm…pregnant."

She expected the wheelchair to stop, which it did. But she did not expect his response.

"Karma, that's—" Was he getting choked up? Before she could tell, he deflected with, "This doesn't mean we have to get married, right?"

The stress of containing such a huge secret released itself in a baffled laugh. "What? No, of course not—I don't want to plan some stupid wedding."

"Thank God." Levi's chest deflated in a sigh.

"Are you…okay with having a baby?"
"More than okay."

"But I thought you hated kids?"

"This isn't Jean's kid, it's ours."

"But kids are messy and always sticky. And I guarantee they won't use coasters."

"I'll just have to get used to it."

Levi wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his chin into her shoulder and stroked her belly so softly that she wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

"I love you, Levi."

He pressed his lips to her neck. "You know how I feel about you."

"Come on—you can say it. We're having a kid for crying out loud."

"Are you worried I don't love you or something? You know I do."

"I just like to hear you say it."

"Fine." He brought his lips to her ear. His voice was a quiet breath for her ears only. "I love you, Karma. And dammit if this wheelchair and that baby aren't proof enough."

Another perfect moment to commit to memory—she was starting to run out of space.

The End