Armin stared at his phone, alight where it sat atop the pile of pages. His fingers stilled, the last notes already dissipating from the keyboard.
She had started it innocuously enough, sending him a funny picture of Eren backstage in a tutu. They had not spoken about the cabin since leaving the cabin, nor had they technically spoken at all. They texted, though.
Oh, they texted.
Late at night when sleep evaded him, he texted. Bored at ballet rehearsals? She texted. She made him laugh.
He hoped he made her laugh.
The alarm that went off in his hands startled him. He had been sure there was more time, but time tended to pass that way lately. He clicked it off and pulled his coat on.
Outside, the air was growing sharper than usual, a cold front coming just in time for the wedding. The snow might even stick this time. He blinked back watery eyes at the sudden gust in his face and climbed eagerly into the car.
"Thanks for the ride," he gasped.
"Sure," Marco said, "Who knew we lived so close?"
"Eren probably. Not that he bothers to tell anyone anything," Jean mumbled.
"Like Jean is so good at it," Marco said, twisting toward the back seat.
Jean looked incredulous.
"Whose side are you on?"
The rehearsal dinner was just far enough outside of the city to inspire coordinated carpooling. Armin was content not to be driving, though, and instead just watched as the city gave way to the odd rural patch of development that the Yeager family home found itself in.
Eren ushered them in from the cold, into a house that was packed beyond recognition. Some people Armin knew, but most he did not, and all were a little too close to him for his taste. He spotted Historia quickly, but she was occupied by a cluster of elderly family members.
Marco and Jean joined him, equally unsure of which direction to pursue.
"It's so packed," Marco said.
"Yeah, so much for a rehearsal dinner. Maybe it's less crowded somewhere else?" Jean suggested.
The three of them wove their way into an adjacent room, much less densely populated. Armin breathed deeper. Marco nodded.
"Good idea, Jean."
Armin said nothing, but could not agree more. Jean huffed impatiently.
"Alright. It's a rehearsal dinner that's clearly just a giant party. Is there still dinner?"
"They're serving it at eight," Armin said. "Well, it's self-serve."
Marco surveyed the room.
"I guess drinks are probably in the kitchen."
"I'll go get them," Jean offered. "Armin?"
"Oh. Sure, thanks."
"Any preference?"
"Whatever's there."
Marco murmured his thanks as Jean dove back into the throng. Marco and Armin lingered in the corner of the room next to a tall sculpture.
"You don't like crowds?" Marco said suddenly.
"Not really."
"Me neither. Ironic, huh?"
"What is?"
Marco grinned at him.
"We can perform in front of so many people, but don't like to be in a crowd."
"Thousands," Armin agreed, mulling it over. "The symphony hall seats nearly two thousand. It must be similar for you guys, right?"
"Thousands," Marco repeated, contemplating.
"It is kind of funny," Armin agreed.
"I guess for me it's not the crowd so much as people getting too close. It makes me jumpy."
Armin looked this time, but Marco glanced back at the floor. Armin cleared his throat.
"Yeah. Me, too."
Little else passed between them, but Armin was pleased to find that he was maybe making friends after all.
Jean returned, harrowed.
"They're wild out there," he said, passing them both glasses.
The growing sounds that emanated from the main room had been evidence of that, but Armin and Marco had not been curious enough to investigate until then. They poked their heads out at Jean's insistence to find a conga line snaking around the large living area.
Mikasa burst from it suddenly, nearly hurtling into Jean. She fussed with her hair, and muttered,
"Ridiculous."
"Hey, look who showed up," Jean teased.
Marco smiled. Armin swallowed.
"Where's Annie? And Sasha?" Marco said.
"Fighting to get a drink. Can you believe this?"
"The Yeagers have always had crazy parties," Marco reminded her.
"Don't you know where Eren gets it from?" Jean added.
Armin tried not to look her up and down. Not conspicuously, at least.
"Ohmygod," Sasha squealed, darting after Mikasa.
Annie trailed on her heels with much less fanfare and much more glaring.
"A fucking nightmare."
"Language, Annie!" Eren called from the other end of the room. He stood by a second opening, with Historia tucked under one arm.
"You're in my parents' house," he added.
"Like they fucking care."
"Congrats, you two," Marco said loudly, someone at least having the wherewithal to focus on the matter at hand.
Armin added his congrats to the chime of the group, giving Historia a quick tap on the arm and stealing her attention for a moment. She smiled brightly at him.
"You're getting married tomorrow," he said.
The rest of the group huddled around Eren. Historia nudged Armin further aside.
"Crazy, right?"
"Good crazy?"
"Good crazy," she agreed, practically beaming.
Armin glanced across the room. Mikasa nursed a water bottle and pressed three fingers into her temple.
"I'm really happy for you," he said, reverting his attention to Historia.
"Thanks. Sorry about all the people. It got kind of out of hand."
"This has to be almost all the people that are going to be at the wedding."
"At least," she admitted. "But, look, I have to tell you something."
He leaned in. She had not looked this nervous in a long time, maybe since they were kids.
"Is everything ok?" he said.
"Yeah! Yeah, it's ok."
Though excited, her voice dropped near to a whisper.
"Look," she continued, "I'm—Eren and I—We're expecting."
"You're—"
"Pregnant," she whispered excitedly.
"So that is why you rushed the wedding."
"Shut up," she hissed. "I didn't want to be showing. Oh, I wanted to tell you sooner. I really did! It was just so early and—"
He pulled her into a sudden hug.
"Congratulations," he murmured, before giving a little squeeze.
But Historia had frozen.
He released her. Her eyes were wide and blinking.
"You hugged me," she said in disbelief, voice rising back above a whisper.
"Don't—It's not a big deal, ok?"
He could tell she was biting her tongue, but she obliged right away, lips pressing into a determined line. She hummed, only nodding.
"I'm fine," he added.
"Mhm," she repeated, pitch rising.
"Ok?"
She could not resist pulling him into another quick hug before she dropped her arms and looked to gauge his response. Or, lack thereof. She broke into a new smile before bounding back across the room to Eren, who immediately put a protective arm around her. Mikasa caught Armin's eye for a moment, but she was slipping back into the fray, empty water bottle in hand.
When food was announced, Eren and Historia ushered the group to join them at the front of the line. One by one, they piled their plates and snuck back to the less crowded room. They hovered over a small table and worked through jumbles of hors d'oeuvres while most of the party barely noticed the 'dinner' part of things.
Music from the other room was thumping throughout the house. Mikasa's appearances had been sporadic at best and Armin looked out into the crowd before he spied Eren through the doorway, hovering at the fringes. He stepped away from the group and went straight toward him.
"Eren," he had to shout.
"Hey! Armin!"
"Hey! Is Mikasa feeling ok?"
Eren leaned in to shout back a confused,
"What?"
"Mikasa," Armin tried again, "Is she ok?"
"I think so. Why?"
"I don't know. She seems uncomfortable. Like—"
He touched his temple. Eren thought for a moment, body swaying with the beat. "She might have a headache."
"A headache?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have anything for that?"
"Upstairs, probably," Eren shouted over a new rise in the volume. "In the bathroom. My dad has lots of meds up there."
Unwilling to try to shout-ask for the details, and unsure whether Eren would know the answer anyway, Armin went in search of the stairs. They were oddly hidden for a house with such otherwise displayed grandeur, but he did not spend much more time considering it once he had found the bathroom, which was surprisingly empty. He locked himself inside and opened the medicine cabinet.
The amassment of bottles seemed irresponsibly vast but he ignored the thought and scanned the labels. His grandfather had suffered from headaches. Armin grabbed the three most likely ones and stuffed them in his pockets.
It took more time to find her than it had to track down the medicine, but he eventually spied her through a glass door. He took the time to retrieve his coat and gloves before letting himself out to the back patio. Better to be prepared.
She looked up at him, startled, as he set a full bottle of water and all three pill bottles on the table in front of her.
"You just carry these around?" she said sarcastically, but her eyes were already reviewing the selection.
"They were upstairs."
"Why didn't I think of that," she muttered. Then added, "So, you're going around looking through medicine cabinets?"
"Eren told me where to find them."
She pried open the second bottle, brow knitting together.
"You asked Eren?"
"You seemed—" In pain, his brain filled in silently. "Uncomfortable," he finished.
Her eyes met his, but she glanced away with a quiet,
"Thank you."
He lowered himself into the chair next to her.
"It's cold out here."
"Yeah," she admitted, "but it's loud in there."
"True."
"And I didn't bring any of these with me," she added, shaking one of the bottles. "Thanks again."
"It wasn't any problem."
There was a pause between them before she muttered wearily,
"I'm so ready for bed."
He nodded, pulling his jacket tighter around him.
"Me, too."
She hesitated.
"Are you sleeping?"
He met her eyes. She searched his face.
"I've been sleeping, yeah," he said.
It was generally true that he seemed to be sleeping more. And he had not had another nightmare since that night with her. He was sure he was due for one, but tried to enjoy the peace while it lasted.
"That's good," she said.
"Yeah."
He shivered at a gust of wind. The shapes of people passed back and forth inside.
"I'm going to be an uncle," he blurted out. Her head lifted back from her hands.
"What?"
"Historia and Eren. They're—"
"Seriously?"
He nodded emphatically.
"Wow," she breathed. "Eren, a dad?"
She laughed at that, her smile landing on him. Armin grinned back.
"I don't think they're telling people yet. Historia just told me."
"I won't tell."
"Thanks."
She nudged the hand he had rested on the table.
"Congrats, uncle."
He smiled still, feeling silly at it. Her hand stayed against his. A cloud puffed from his mouth as he exhaled slowly and nudged her hand back. She said nothing, but a part of him appreciated that the most.
His heart made itself loud again when her hand slid hesitantly over his. The slightest squeeze of pressure telegraphed against his hand through the layers of cloth. He stared at their stacked hands on the table for a moment before flipping his palm up, to fit better to hers.
He waited for her to withdraw, but she kept her hand where it was.
The door whooshed open behind them. Mikasa's hand twitched and she glanced cautiously over his shoulder. Before he could think, before she could pull away, he followed his first instinct and squeezed her hand in his.
Her smile was more than enough reward.
"Armin, Mom wants you," Historia called from the door. "And god, it's freezing out here!"
He cleared his throat as the door panel slid shut before he could even respond.
"I guess I have to go," he said quietly.
Mikasa nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm going to go home and lie down. But, I'll see you at the wedding?"
Of course she would, but somehow he knew she was asking something else.
"See you tomorrow," he confirmed, reluctantly pulling his hand from hers and pushing it back into his pocket. It was almost as if he could have dreamed it.
She scooped the pill bottles up.
"I'll put these away. Thanks again."
"Ok. No problem."
She wished him goodnight and spared him a final, long look before disappearing into the glow of the house.