A/N: It's finally over! Like I promised, I put everything up after finishing the last chapter. I apologize for any mistakes I might have made along the way and that I didn't catch; I promise most of it is unintentional. Eh, if the characters seem a little OOC (especially the end bit) I'm sorry! I meant to end it another way, but this one was pushing itself out of me and I think in a way it suits them better too. I actually meant to mull on it for a while more but then the new chapter came out and they're both Ackermans so here I am hoping against hope it means they're all from the same clan (they do have the same eyes although it might be because of they feel like killing everyone more than half the time) and that they're not related by blood and I just felt like I had to get this out really quick to comfort myself. I've had quite a bit of fun writing this out and then analysing parts of it later (using the skills I've actually picked up from Lit classes yay) and then feeling a bit smug for writing it in the first place.

Anyway, I think it's safe to say I'm going to stay away from multi-chapter fics for a while after this; I think I'm much better suited to one-shots. Maybe one day I'll get enough confidence to tackle another multi-chapter fic again (this one was mainly stupidity with me diving in without thinking) and I'll be able to incorporate the advice I've gotten over the course of this one. It's taught me a lot, that's for sure. But thanks for sticking with me and 'in progress' in spite of the weekly updates of horribly short chapters, and all the encouragement and advice along the way; it's really really appreciated! And now that this long and rambling A/N has probably taken up like, one-third of the word count, I present the final chapter of 'in progress': right after the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I don't own SnK

Mikasa spent the next day's lessons in a faint haze of worry, causing Eren and her friends to glance at her occasionally with looks of concern. She, however, was too preoccupied with thoughts of how Bert and Marco might react to her when they saw her later that day, and didn't try to reassure them of her continued sanity.

After class that day she found herself dragging her feet, unable and unwilling to go down to the café and see what awaited her there. The other students in the class cast her strange looks as they filed out before her; usually she was the first one out, and even if she wasn't, her packing was still efficient and neat, completely unlike the slow haphazard manner in which she was piling her books into her bag.

Surprisingly enough, when she got to the café, the place was as quiet as usual and Bert and Marco were nowhere to be seen, with Reiner manning the counter.

"Thanks for covering up for me last night," Bert grinned as she approached him. "I think I aced the quiz today. I hope so, at least." Then, his voice dropping dramatically as he beckoned her nearer, "So, you and Rivaille, huh?"

She sighed; she couldn't really have blamed the two of them for telling Reiner what they'd seen—she was thankful that they hadn't informed the entire student body. "We're not together. He just walks me home at night so that I'm not assaulted," she hissed back, keeping her voice low as well.

"Hmm," Reiner said, looking unconvinced but letting it go. "Well then, go get your lunch and come back out later," he told her, propelling her towards the kitchen with a small push.

"Hi, guys," she said, stepping into the kitchen and taking in the plate and cup already sitting on the table, and Bert and Marco's too-bright smiles.

"Hello," they chorused.

She sat down with a sigh and pulled the plate towards her and started to eat. Five minutes passed, then ten. Mikasa was beginning to hope that they wouldn't question her when Marco opened his mouth and broke the silence.

"So why was Rivaille waiting for you last night?"

"We're just friends," she emphasized. "We only walk home together because our dorms are literally next to each other,"

"He always leaves earlier, though," Bert pointed out. "I didn't even know you two knew each other before last night!"

"Well then, you're not very observant, are you?" Mikasa quickly covered up. Really though, there wasn't much interaction to be observed between the two. Though she had refilled his tea more than a couple of times in the café, the only time he had acknowledged their friendship was the previous night with the slightest tilt of his head. If she hadn't known that he didn't participate in superfluous actions, she wouldn't have thought anything of it, either. It was odd, and a little hurtful, if she allowed herself to be honest. She wouldn't have thought that her acquaintance would be something that anyone would want to hide from others.

She spent the rest of the two hours answering their questions as patiently as she could, reiterating the fact that they weren't together over and over again. Even when she pointedly pulled out her books and cracked them open, Bert and Marco ignored it and continued pressing her for more information. When her two hours were finally up, she left the kitchen with relief, and more than willingly took up Reiner's spot by the counter.

"Rivaille came in like, minutes after you went into the kitchen; you just missed him," he told her, with an exaggerated wink on his part before he got off the stool.

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him, and waving him on into the kitchen. She spent the rest of the day alternating between trying to study in the kitchen and fending off Bert and Marco's absurd questions, and studying the cashier with a sort of intensity that might have been scary to the casual observer, but was amusing to the more observant ones. She frequently looked up from under her eyelashes, stealing glances at Rivaille and trying to figure out his studying method, her eyes always flitting back down whenever someone happened to look up, or when Reiner came out the door to take over.

When eleven finally rolled around, she left Bert and Marco behind in the kitchen raising their eyebrows in a suggestive manner at her, and winking excessively.

"You look like you have a nervous tic," she finally told them, just before she left. "Stop."

As she was pulling her bag out from underneath the counter and hoisting it on her shoulder, Reiner told her that Rivaille had already left (as if she couldn't tell from the empty booth) and that he wondered why Rivaille never stayed long enough to wait for her to leave the café together. She waved at him on her way out, not wanting to stay back and try to untangle the whole thing with him.

Rivaille pulled himself off the wall as she came out, moving as languidly as ever, before falling into step next to her. The silence that followed between them, however, had a strange element to it—something that hadn't been there for the past few weeks.

"Is something wrong?" He finally asked. He'd been waiting for her to start talking first, like she normally did whenever something was bothering her, but tonight she kept her lips firmly shut, her arms swinging slightly stiffly by her side.

"No," she replied shortly, before sighing. Her head tipped to the sky, she continued walking along in a straight line. "It's just—" She cut herself off then, and didn't continue. Beside her, Rivaille reached out and pulled her back onto the path with a slight tug, his fingers warm through her jacket. He remained silent as he removed his hand again, his warmth fading fast from her arm. "You never acknowledge me in the halls," she finally said.

"You don't acknowledge me either," Rivaille said next to her, his tone unreadable.

"That's because I thought you didn't want people to know we knew each other!" she exploded, looking at him in exasperation.

Next to her, Rivaille continued looking straight ahead, his side profile as calm as ever. "Well, you seem like you value your privacy a lot. And if word gets out that we do know each other, the whole school is going to be talking about it for the next few weeks, or even months. I didn't think you'd want that to happen,"

"Oh," she went quiet next to him. It was a plausible explanation, one that she'd gone through many times herself before, but "It still hurts,"

"Okay," Rivaille said, tugging her to a stop next to him on the concrete path. "So what now?"

"What do you mean, what now?" Mikasa demanded. She'd never been one for showing emotions explicitly (with the exception of anger) and this discussion was making her uncomfortable and edgy; she wanted out.

"I mean, what now? So we acknowledge each other in public now?" He clarified, his voice still calm, his face still unreadable.

"We acknowledge whatever we want to acknowledge," she finally said, scowling at his unperturbed expression.

"Okay," he said, releasing his hold on her arm slightly. "Then I'd like to acknowledge this," and he leaned in, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"What?" She asked, the fire abruptly leaving her, rushing to the spot where his lips left her cheek and leaving a soft glow in its place. "What?" She asked again, stupidly, blinking again and again like she couldn't stop.

"I like you, Mikasa Ackerman. I'm acknowledging that tonight," Rivaille said simply, half turning away from her.

She mumbled something incoherent in response, still staring wondrously at that stupid, antagonizing, brooding boy in front of her.

"If you're going to speak, at least articulate your words and enunciate," he told her, as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell on her. "Are you or aren't you an English student?"

She stared at him some more, unable to react. This was a completely new situation for her; most of the boys she knew were scared of her, either of her sharp tongue or her lack of hesitation to beat anyone who offended her up. Eren and Armin didn't give away any details of how they had confessed to their girlfriends, either; they'd just announced it one day to her, and she hadn't questioned it—the progression had just seemed completely natural to her, like it was a given that it would happen. As a result, her brain seemed to be undergoing a systematic shutdown due to a complete lack of understanding as to what to do; she stood there unable to move, just standing there and gaping at him like he'd just sprout out another head and decided to roll around in the mud just for fun.

"You know," Rivaille said conversationally. "Maybe it's just me, but I always thought that when I told a girl that I liked her, there'd be more of a reaction,"

Mikasa just continued standing there, unable to react. She was listening to him; his words were going into her ears, and her brain was registering it, but she was simply at a loss as to what to say, or do. As a result, like any other time when she was unable to comprehend something, she started to get frustrated, and get angry.

"You don't get to do this," she spat. She knew that it was irrational anger, but the words welled up and out of her anyway. "You don't get to not acknowledge me in the café or in the hallways in school for weeks and weeks then just come out of the blue one day and tell me you like me just because we walk home together every night,"

"Alright, then," he responded, his tone still calm. "At least we know where we stand with each other now." Something in his eyes was shuttered off as he turned away completely, staring down the path towards their dorms. "Let's go back, we've stood here long enough in the cold night air,"

He started walking down, his head held high, shoulders back, every bit the smug, confident asshole he had been before she'd yelled at him on a concrete path in the middle of two stunted shrubs, under the warm glow of a dimming streetlamp. She watched him walk away, one step then two, before her hand shot out and pulled him back to where he'd been standing a while ago. He turned, an eyebrow arched towards her.

"Don't walk away while I'm in the middle of saying something," she hissed.

"Ackerman, it's cold, it's half past eleven, and there's still a fair way to go before we get to your dorm. I'm fairly sure that I've understood what you have to say, so let's just go," he told her, in that smarmy condescending way he had.

"Don't assume that you know what I have to say," she bit back, some of her anger becoming more than a little justified.

"So what do you have to say?"

She glared at him, breathing deeply, before she suddenly leaned in and kissed him on the cheek too. He stared at her for a while. Then, "So what are you saying, Ackerman?"

She scowled at the ground, fingers fidgeting by her. He waited there on the concrete next to her, wrist still loosely held in one of her hands. "I'm saying that I like you too," she ground out, trying to burn a hole in the ground with her eyes, hoping that one would appear and swallow her up.

Rivaille tucked his fingers under her chin and brought her head up to meet his eyes, noting with sour amusement that she was still looking down, anyway. "So what are we saying?"

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"Okay," he agreed, dropping his hand from her chin, and turning back towards the dorms again. "We really should go back now; you're going to miss curfew otherwise,"

He started walking away, his wrist slipping from her loose hold. Just as they were leaving her hand, his fingers caught up with hers and tangled themselves together with her own, and he tugged her forward, their fingers an intricate lattice. They walked back down the concrete path together under the orange streetlamps, one taller figure and another shorter one, their hands held firmly together in the crisp night air.