A/N: First ever Shingeki no Kyojin fic. Characters are Isayama Hajime's. I don't own nor make a penny from anything familiar here.

Her father taught her to be a realist since childhood. Realists only consider things as they appeared to be and not dealing with ideals and abstractions. Even daydreaming was close to a privilege.

Reality was plain and simple. He was her captain, and she was his soldier. It had been years since she got over her pathetic blushing and stuttering and replaced it with a dignified admiration and fierce loyalty, but she knew she wasn't kidding anyone. She understood that there was this invisible bridge she couldn't cross; a thousand times more impenetrable than the force of the three Walls combined.

One night, he called her out to the dining room.

Realists or not, you couldn't blame a girl's heartbeat to grew rampant at the prospect of being alone together in a semi-dark room with the object of her devotion. Thoughts – from positive to negative to borderline dirty ones – threatened to take over, but she stayed focused on whatever would come ahead.

"I know how you feel about me," he said, bluntly, matter-of-factly. She didn't indulge her startled state. Of course he knew how she felt about her. He was the motherfucking Captain Levi of the Recon Corps who could deduce a titan's intention in a glance from ten miles away. "And I need you to understand that I cannot afford to be in a relationship with my own squad member."

She nodded. "Understood." That much she did. Realists can't get disappointed because they don't have expectations, her father used to say. She had prepared for this.

"I'm not finished, soldier," his stern countenance was in contrast with his rather soft tone. She swallowed and composed herself to meet his eye.

"I said we couldn't be in a relationship," he resumed. "But we still can do this,"

His stepping forward was too unforeseen and inhumanely swift that she had to choke back a yelp.

She blinked.

The Humanity's Strongest Soldier was enveloping her in an embrace.

They had barely an inch of height difference, but his brilliantly built arm was enough to inflict a riot of tingles all over her body.

"Keep in mind that I will do it from time to time," he breathed to her ears. "Don't expect any more kind of physical interactions, because even I can't give myself that. This is the limit."

His voice faded into a whisper. "This is as far as we … both of us … can ever get. Understood?"

She thought after the every blood-splattered mission they'd been through together, nothing could surprise her anymore. But this, whatever this was, trumped anything in past or even in the future by a long shot.

Not that she complained.

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

But he wasn't letting go. They both stayed at the exact same position, and to her it meant both hands dangling awkwardly at each side. She couldn't help it. She had to ask.

"May I..?" she tried.

"Yes, Petra, you may."

Smiling, she nestled into the nook of his neck, tasting his scent of disinfectant and cold sweat. It wasn't unpleasant, just unusual, so she breathed in deeply - and then she could feel it: the cloying, century-aged tired soul behind the stoic hardened shell.

"This is more than enough, Captain."

"Yes, it is. It is real," he said.

Her hair, the color of the setting sun, tickled the tip of his nose – she thought of apologizing, but apparently he didn't mind. After all, she had been the one that burned his bridge down to the ground.

Their reality was this. Not some passionate meaningless nights inside his candlelit chamber – because it would be unreal, existed only in the head of a sexually-frustrated romance writer. Because as she said, this was more than enough.

After the briefing, he made sure that Erwin and Hange had led everyone out the courtyard – everyone but one, to whom he was now approaching with that familiar look on his face. It was one of those times. They were about to reclaim Shiganshina and escort the titan boy to the basement of his house. The old and new recruits had spent the last month preparing for the intricate plan, and he'd made damn sure none of them would screw it up. But he would never be able to do it without her. Without this.

He weaved his fingers with her hair to pull her close, and she dipped her temple to his collarbone.

"This shit is going to be heavy, Petra," he mumbled. "If anything can go wrong, then it fucking will."

She felt a snort forming despite herself, because when had he ever sugarcoat anything? "I'm terrified," she said.

"I know."

He pressed rough lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes to relish the feeling, and he felt like joining in because he could sense what was coming. They would be fine like this, intertwined.

"Stay close to me," he went on. "So you won't be."

She gave a tiny nod, a slight flutter of a gesture under his chin. He absorbed her smell, savoring it, living for it, because it was his real oxygen; anything else he'd breathed ever was a lie.

"Others are readying the horse. I'll give you two-minute head start, then we'll meet in formation. Okay?"

"Yes, Captain."

He watched her back retreating, shoulders solid with determination like a good soldier she was, while delicate hips and legs swaying almost childlike. She was too precious.

And at that moment, he could sense reality slipping before his eyes.

end.

Ah, Petra/Levi. My newest obsession.

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