Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin Fanfiction

SUMMARY: It's all fun and games until someone gets caught in the crossfire.

At first, Rivaille is just the police force's strongest leading officer, and to him, Eren Jaeger is just the annoying kid that lives a few doors down in his apartment complex. And it's supposed to be just that — Eren bugging him at every waking chance; Rivaille tracking down and going against a growing criminal syndicate. It all goes downhill and in mindless directions once Eren gets involved in the mix, and things start to become a case of double-takes and triple guesses.

It really is all fun and games until someone gets caught in the crossfire.

[ Policeman AU, Modern setting AU, DOMESTIC AU, kid!Eren, fatherly figure!Rivaille, other characters included ]

[ NOTE - NOVEMBER 5, 2013: THIS FIC IS CURRENTLY ON THE PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN.

CHAPTER 1 HAS BEEN REWRITTEN AS OF NOVEMBER 5, 2013. ]

Chapter 1

"Go home, Eren."

A soft, velvet-pressed tie slips through his fingers, its cold exterior feeling nice to his touch as he pulls it through a knot. After pulling it through, he gives it a sharp tug until it feels comfortably secure and tight around his neck, and steps back from the full-length mirror before him. He gives himself a onceover, making sure that nothing seemed out of place in his attire. But not too soon after did his dark, narrowed eyes spot a small batch of dust and dirt clouding on his right shoulder, the filth clearly visible.

It takes no moment of hesitation for him to pull out a handkerchief and attempt to rub out the dirt.

However, as the dirt spot makes no indication of fading out, it also doesn't take a moment of hesitation for him to slip it off and toss the marred shirt into a laundry hamper in his bathroom. He returns back into his room, pulling out a cleaner one from his closet, and thoroughly checking the top for anymore indecencies. A click of his teeth out of content escapes through his lips as he tugs the new top on, finally settling on one last onceover of his appearance.

A sudden ring blares out, and following the source of the alarm, his eyes land on the digital clock that sat on his nightstand, its red numbers telling him that it was half-past six. And just as soon as he looked at the clock, a vibrating noise follows from his bed, coming from his cell phone that lies neatly on one of the pillows.

The only person that bothers to ever call him at around six in the morning is usually her—and at that fact, he ignores the incessant buzzing of the cell phone and tucks it into one of his pockets, closing the bedroom door behind him as he lightly jogs down the small hallway of his apartment room to his kitchen and living room.

His kitchen is the ideal sight.

Dishes stack on top of each other in neat piles on the shelves, clean surfaces sparkling brightly underneath the kitchen lighting. A number of pans and pots hang off the hooks that held them, not a stain of grease or grub on their exteriors, as he makes his way towards his pantry. He pulls out a wrapped loaf of bread and sets it on his polished the polished kitchen counter, its spotless surface so smooth that his lips nearly twitch from its thin line to something of the tiniest of smiles—but not really.

All was content until his eyes land upon a sight of leftover crumbs on the countertop's corner farthest from him, the crumbly mess nearly invisible and almost going on undetected had it not been for his keen sense of insight. Narrowed eyes glare down at the mess, his nerves blazing in slight annoyance and suspicion at who he felt to be the culprit of the mess.

But important things first, just before he barks out his suspicion, he turns on his heel and towards one of the lower kitchen cabinets, prying them open and searching for the solution to the current problem. Not a second too soon does a bottle of Windex appears in his hand, his hand bringing it over the mess and his thumb soon pressing against the trigger to squirt out against the debacle on his counter. After finding a hand rag, he cleans over the mess with a few swipes until it becomes the formerly clean countertop that had been unmarred.

Life is full of messes and mistakes, really. But there are times when apologies cannot solve everything.

And that is why he decides not give the culprit any mercy.

"If you're in here, you brat, you better come out now," he calls out, as he returns the cleaner back to its rightful place, and listening for any indication of the other's whereabouts. "I'm not even going to give you until the count of ten. Haul your ass out here now."

After the demand was made, it only took a few seconds for him to hear a light tapping of footsteps echo throughout his apartment, and for that figure to suddenly attack him from behind, clinging onto the back of his right leg. When he looks down, he is met with the sight of a small boy grinning up at him, the sparkle of a set of teeth—save for a few empty spaces, especially where his top-front teeth were supposed to be—appearing before him.

"Corporal, corporal!" the young boy chirps and grins, his small fingers then pulling and stretching at the sides of his mouth. "Look, my front teeth are missing!"

"That's great." Rivaille leans down to pat at the seven-year old's head. "How'd you get in here, Eren?" And just as soon as he says that, he turns to make his way back to his kitchen counter, soon snatching out some bread and slipping them onto a toaster.

"You know, Corporal, for a policeman, you don't lock your doors." Eren remarks, as he trails after Rivaille. "Ah! I want peanut butter and jelly on mine!"

"Then go back to your own apartment, brat."

But nevertheless, Rivaille does retrieve two jars from the kitchen pantry—two of them being both peanut butter and jelly—and sliding them on the kitchen countertop towards the brunet, whose eyes had lit up at the sight of them as if they were treasures of the world. A toasty smell soon fills in the air, and Eren's lips pull into a grin.

And it doesn't catch Rivaille off-guard, but rather, it lives up to his expectations, because for some reason, this seven-year old kid that lives about a few doors down from his room makes it seem like having breakfast with him is the best thing in the world.

A ding comes from the toaster not a second too soon, and Rivaille watches as Eren scrambles onto one of the tall chairs to climb over the counter for the two pieces of bread and then place in a couple of new ones. In the meantime, Rivaille brings over a creamer and a jar of sugar onto the counter, having already brewed himself some coffee earlier in the morning. From the opposite side, Eren is just about half-sitting on the counter, watching Rivaille prepare coffee with a twinkle in his own eyes.

"Corporal," Eren reaches out and tugs at Rivaille's sleeve, then pointing at the coffee machine. "I want some coffee too!"

"You'll have milk."

"But—!"

"I said no. Go fix yourself your sandwich and then leave." Rivaille said, as he retrieves the new batch of toast from the toaster and begins to make his own sandwich, slathering it with peanut butter.

Eren's expression wilts into slight devastation and annoyance as his lips pull into a pout. He maintains the pout, marching off towards Rivaille's small dining table and climbing onto one of its chairs.

And after a moment, the small brunet realizes he'd forgotten his toasts, and just before he gets up to retrieve them, Rivaille comes to the table, placing a plate of toasts and two jars onto the table in front of him. But still disappointed, Eren silently fixes himself his sandwich, lips still drawn into a pout, as Rivaille slides into the seat across from him and places a tall glass of milk and his coffee on the table.

The silence continues for a while—neither speaking over the crunches from biting onto the toast—until Eren's expression brightens up when Rivaille finally gives him permission to drink a small sip of his coffee.

And Eren takes it likes it a prize from a festival, holding the glass to his lips and reveling in happiness at sharing an adult-like quality with Rivaille. But unfortunately, it doesn't match his expectations as he gags on the drink just after he takes a sip.

"Bleg!" He spits out the remnants of the drink on his tongue, his previous grin having deformed itself into a disgusted scowl. "That's gross!"

"I'm an adult!" Eren argues back, flopping in his seat with another pout on his lips as he continues to nibble on his sandwich.

Rivaille only spares him a glance before finishing up his own food.

"Say, Eren."

"Hm?"

"What are you doing here?"

That question seems to be the ticket because, just as it escaped his lips, the seven-year old diverts his attention away from the food and from Rivaille's piercing glance, leaving another silence to fill in between the two.

Rivaille doesn't know what the brunet gets from hanging around his place. All the apartment rooms look just about the same or at least a similar variation, so it really makes no sense.

"I'm hungry, sir."

"Then, go home." Rivaille says, tapping at the table to get Eren's full attention. "I mean, why aren't you getting ready for school?"

"That's because it's a school holiday," Eren said, still not meeting Rivaille's eyes. "That's why I'm not getting ready for school today…?"

"Like I'm going to believe that. Tell the truth, brat."

But Eren still continues to avoid looking him in the eye.

"Eren."

"Fine," Eren starts as he relents in confessing. "I got in fight at school last week, and my suspension started yesterday. I'm not allowed to go back to school until my suspension is over." He begins to sniffle, little droplets of tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Aren't you such a good actor? I almost believed you for a second there."

"Corporal, is that one of the sassy periods of yours that Miss Hanji told me about?"

"That's not the point, brat." Rivaille leans back in his own seat, crossing his arms. "I still want to know why you're here in my apartment."

"I'm grounded too."

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"Yeah, she made pancakes and I told her that I was going to share some with you."

"And where are they?"

"…I gave them to Hannes."

"Eren."

"…Yes?"

"Go home." Rivaille orders, putting more emphasis into his words and standing up to place all the dishes back into the sink. He glances at the wall clock perched on the wall in his living room, finding that it was already a quarter past seven o'clock.

"Eren, if you're done, grab my phone from my room."

Eren nods in compliance as he slips out of his seat and darts down the hall towards Rivaille's bedroom. Meanwhile, Rivaille makes quick work of the dishes, scrubbing off any crumbs and dirt and then soon setting them aside to dry. He goes to fix up the rest of his apartment as he waits for Eren, just about giving his apartment a literal and thorough examination in the meantime.

"Here you go, Corporal!" Eren chirps, waving the cell phone in the air as he neared Rivaille. "What are we going to do now—"

But before Eren could finish, however, Rivaille picks him and hauls him under his arm, taking the brunet towards the door after tucking his phone into his pocket. He grabs his keys and fixes an unbalanced tilt on one of his lampshades before coming close to the door.

"We're not doing anything else. I'm going to work and you're going back to your own apartment." Rivaille finishes, stepping outside his apartment and soon locking the door behind him, giving the doorknob one final squeeze to make sure that it was actually locked and secured.

"But—"

However, Eren's protests go unheard as Rivaille continues to carry him to his own apartment, an expression on the older male's face that simply told him that there was no room for protest.

"No, buts." Rivaille said, standing in front of the door to Eren's apartment and then opening it. He gives a quick gesture of greeting to Carla Jaeger once she notices him, and places Eren on the ground and pushes him inside. "Stay at home."

However, just before Rivaille fully closes the door, he mutters something under his breath, just audible enough to reach Eren's ears, "And if you're going to get into fights, do it somewhere inconspicuous, so you don't caught, get suspension, and always ending up at my place, you shitty brat."

And with that, he shuts the door behind him, clicking his teeth and heading out of his apartment complex.

Fin.

Just some things to note:

1. I am only referring Rivaille as Corporal, because in my case, it's easier to type; simple as that. I am aware that the proper title is Lance Corporal or Heichou, but for my purposes, I'm making my life a little easier.

And although I'd rather not use it as a reliable source, according to Wikipedia, is an honorary rank of Police Officer in Japan, often called Senior Police Officer. Though Wikipedia might not be a reliable source, I'm just going to twist it for my use. Therefore, though he is called Corporal, his rank is that of Captain, which according to Wiki, is: squad commander.

2. I'm focusing on plot development, crazy suspense, drama, and fucking your mind with mind-blowing things in this fic. Please stay.

3. I tried to make this chapter serious, but I went for comical. If you squint at it, I'm making fun of our short clean-freak! :D (It's comical relief for now, but there's actually something in this chapter…)

But no; the future chapters are going to be much more series, and I'm talking about the fucking with your mind part. I've got thirteen chapters already fully planned out.

4. I apologize for the OOC in this chapter. But let's just say (and because this is an important consideration in my fic), this is the pre-Eren (raging/tough/badass Eren) period.

P.S.S. Everything after Eren's first pout is rushed and sucks. I'm sorry.