A/N-this chapter is dedicated in particular to Hannah ( levixmikasa on tumblr) because she was one of my first friends and I didn't quite give her anything for her birthday. Happy belated (really belated) birthday, Hannah Banana. I hope you like it and sorry for the wait.

Eren was still shaking as he gently pulled out of Annie's body, struggling to keep from slumping to the ground, leaning against the wall as he adjusted his clothing. It hadn't taken long for either of them—how long had it been since he had seen her fall apart like that? How long had it been since he had felt her crumble in his arms?

He raked a hand through his disheveled hair. "Fuck, Annie, what the hell are we doing?"

Annie looked away, shrugging as she adjusted her skirt. "I'm pretty sure you know what we were doing."

Eren gritted his teeth, his entire body burning with shame. "This was a mistake."

Annie pulled her hood back over her head, hiding her expression. "Maybe." She turned, walking away from him nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just twisted him up, as if he hadn't just been inside of her. "Go running back to Mikasa. She'll make you feel better."

Fuck.

"Annie…wait." Eren struggled. "Is that why you're doing this?" Shut up, he told himself, tried to stop talking desperately. "Because you want to get back at Mikasa for getting the job you wanted? Because you hate her?" Am I just a knife for you to stab her with? Do you really love me, Annie?

She took another step forward and stopped, still facing away. "You'll think what you want." She looked up at the grey sky. "But if I really hated her, Eren, I'd let her marry you."

The words struck him in the gut—prevented him from speaking as she walked away from him, only made him slump against the damp wall weakly.

How the fuck was he going to fix this? How was he going to face Mikasa now? Gods, it was probably written all fucking over him and he couldn't, couldn't go back in there, couldn't stomach the thought of facing her after what he had done.

But how long had he been out here?

He smoothed his clothing as best as he could, grimacing at the damp spots on his jeans, didn't want to think of what they'd been rolling over. He lifted his phone off the ground, saw the crack at the very corner. He was checking if it was still working, tried to hide the shaking of his hands, when he opened the door and looked up—and froze.

They'd been up against the wall, and they'd moved away from each other so quickly that Eren hadn't quite seen but—and it was laughable—he would have sworn that their mouths were touching.

But that couldn't be.

Mikasa wouldn't do something like that—Mikasa loved him. Him.

"What…" His brain wasn't quite turning, his shame forgotten as the sharp knife of anger slid into his chest. "Mikasa, what's going on?"

She blinked rapidly and he watched her adjust her pencil skirt self-consciously. "I…fell."

There was a split second of static, of awkwardness hanging in the air, as if her lie was obvious and he was struggling to decide whether to call her out on it or let it be. But his mind denied what he'd thought he saw. Mikasa obviously hated the guy from the get go. How could that change within a few minutes? Besides, Mikasa had never had eyes for anyone but him. Her devotion was concrete.

Wasn't it?

It wasn't as if he had any right to question her after what he'd done. It was probably his own guilt skewing his thoughts.

Eren pushed his hands into his pockets, his tongue thick. "You…hardly ever fall."

Levi stepped forward. "The move I made was a little too much for her." He bent, grabbing her small clip and tossing it at her. He faced Eren now, his glare in full force. "Oi, didn't I tell you to turn off your phone?" Levi walked by him—and paused just as he was about to.

Levi leaned in towards Eren, speaking quietly while Mikasa briskly picked up her hair. "Quite a unique scent you're wearing, Eren." Levi's voice deepened. "Don't quite recall you wearing it while we were dancing earlier. Neither do I recall those scratches on your neck."

Eren felt himself go cold. "Please…please don't say anything."

Mikasa stepped forward glaring at Levi suspiciously. "Eren?"

Eren fumbled, reaching for his jacket, swallowing the poisonous guilt lingering in his mouth and throat. "I was just apologizing again. I'm sorry, it was—an important call…It won't happen again." He vowed, his mouth tight. "I think our time is up anyway." He looked at Mikasa, discreetly pulling up his hoodie. "Are you ready to go?"

She kept her gaze on Levi for several moments but he didn't look at her. "Yes."

He moved forward, prayed she didn't see the way his hands were shaking as he lifted her scarf off the ground, haphazardly wrapping it about her neck. He smiled at her hesitantly as the material covered her nose and mouth, reminding him of when they'd been children, his remorse threatening to swallow him whole. He grabbed her hand. "Let's go home." He pulled her forward, waving at Levi. "We'll be here tomorrow."

Levi said nothing as he watched them both walk out the door.

The drive home was silent, broken only by the quiet murmur of the weather report humming through the speakers. They'd just pulled onto the freeway when she saw Eren's grip on the steering wheel tighten.

"Hey, Mikasa?"

She frowned. "Yes?"

He stared out onto the street for a long time. "We're in love with each other…right?"

Mikasa opened her mouth to answer—and hesitated. She gripped the seat belt across her chest, looking out the window. "Is there…a reason you're asking this, Eren?"

She watched the tic in his jaw through his reflection in the glass. "No, I just…" He forced a stiff laugh. "I guess sometimes I just feel like you can do much better." Eren touched the back of his neck. "Much better."

She tugged her scarf up, pressing it against her still tingling mouth, tried not to think of how good the kiss had felt, how alive it had made her feel. "I can't." She looked at him now, swallowed the shame wracking her. "You're my home." She shut her eyes. "My family."

Eren met her gaze and for a moment it looked as if he was going to say something—but he paused, shaking his head and reaching for her hand instead. He linked their fingers together. "I love you too, Mikasa."

It was a strange sensation, ghostly and guilt-ridden touches lingering on their bodies.

They'd gone their separate ways after the lesson, and Eren had stumbled clumsily into his shower, washing the sweat and dirt off his skin, finding lightly forming bruises, finding thin scratches, tiny marks of her teeth over his collarbones. And even as he scrubbed his skin raw he couldn't quite forget how her skin had felt beneath his palms, the way her nails had dug into his skin, the way she'd driven him up just as hard as he'd drove her. He woke up enough times in the dead of the night with her name on his lips, enough times to reach over and grab his cracked phone, texting her Goodnight Annie like he had when they had first gotten together.

She never responded and he erased it minutes after.

And he refused to think of his actions until the morning.

Or perhaps the morning after.

Just not now. Never now.

No matter how many times Mikasa had brushed her teeth, no matter the amount of coffee or tea she drank or how many times she brushed her fingertips over her lips she still felt Levi's mouth on hers, still remembered how exquisitely he had kissed her, still felt his fingers grasping at her hips and her ribs, felt how viciously his heart had beat within his chest, her palms lingering over it greedily.

And if she woke the next morning and found a text from Levi stating the check you left me was completely fucking unnecessary she didn't wonder when he had managed to grab her phone, didn't wonder what had possessed him to punch in his number to her contacts.

She only smiled and erased the text minutes afterwards, denying him a reply.

She only knew she felt curiously light hearted for the rest of the day, a lightheartedness that she hadn't felt for a long, long time.

They kept the precarious lessons up for a while, looks and touches hidden, a burning brush of fingertips across shoulder blades, a quick breath against the pulse at their wrists. Levi made it a habit to point out how much chemistry she and Eren lacked and Mikasa always made it a point to discreetly knee his gut or brush her fingers across his lower stomach.

Either one left him equally as breathless.

And if Levi enjoyed the shivers she gave him when he dragged his lips across the back of her neck or the way her breath hitched whenever his hands grasped her hips he never said a word, only memorized the flutter of her pulse, the glares softened with the desire he tugged out of her.

They didn't notice their small habits forming, didn't notice that they had almost begun to look forward to them, had begun to learn one another, to both anticipate and dread the electricity between them.

They didn't notice how easily they seemed to fit.

Neither did Eren.

Because he was much, much too preoccupied with darker things. Preoccupied with hiding his cell phone, finding Annie in the most inconvenient of places, taking her quickly and roughly in a closet, a dressing room, in the passenger seat of his car. Preoccupied with making sure Mikasa didn't see the scratches and bruises on his skin.

Preoccupied with trying to balance everything and with trying to stop this madness.

And yes they kept these forbidden and hidden touches in the dark for a week or so—a week or so before something finally gave.

Since Levi had given Mikasa his cell number she had not—even once—contacted him.

So when he received a text from her he immediately put the dish rag down, clicking the message open and reading it in the privacy of his office. It was a link to a video and just as he finished watching the dance number he received another text from her.

I want to try that.

Levi's brows rose, stemming his amusement as he replied.

Is that a request or a demand?

The screen lit back up almost instantly.

It's what you're being paid for.

Levi leaned against the edge of his desk, hair falling over his brow as he thought. It was, he supposed, but they had paid him to teach them a wedding dance and these moves were a bit advanced for two beginners. Or, well, Eren—he was sure Mikasa could learn them in a session or two.

It's an advanced move. That might be a little too much for you and Eren will probably end up hurting himself.

He heard the front door open, Hanji's voice talking excitedly. He kicked the door shut behind him just as he received her reply.

I'd like to learn it alone. I can pay you extra if that's what you're worried about.

Levi sat in his chair, sighing. It's not. He paused before adding on the question. Are you really sure you want to try it, Mikasa?

She replied after a minute.

I wouldn't have asked otherwise.

Levi hesitated before sending her another text.

Arrive an hour earlier than usual. Without Eren.

"Easy." Levi murmured, his lips pressed to the curve of her ear. "Relax. You're too tight."

Mikasa shivered, turning her head to meet his gaze, his breath brushing against her mouth. "Just do it."

Levi huffed, his amusement a little more than strained. "Patience. I'm the instructor, Mikasa." His hand slid down her spine, urging her to bend before him. "Not you."

She arched forward, her hands slipping between her thighs and clutching at his, their fingers linking. His blue eyes caught over the chills raking over skin, pausing to enjoy the feel of her against him, her heady scent enveloping him, how sensitive she was to his touch.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.

He bent his knees—then yanked on her hands, flipping her neatly, quickly. She landed on her heels just in time, her hands still gripped in his, crouched between his legs. He looked up across the room to the mirrored wall, catching the flicker of a smile flitting across her lips, satisfaction evident in her dark eyes.

"Good." He murmured, helping her straighten up. "Again."

She shook her head, shaking out her left foot. "My leg is cramping." She admitted and he nodded. He'd noted her leg had kept stiffening even if she'd thought she'd hid it well and he had to admire how long she'd held out.

Levi released her hands, tossing her a water bottle as he drank from his. "Satisfied?"

Mikasa removed her scarf, pressing the cold plastic against her nape as she spoke. "No." She slid the wet bottle lower. "It's almost time for Eren to arrive."

Levi glanced at the clock. "So it is." He pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit down. "Rest until then."

She looked a little wary—but sat nonetheless, watching him as he sat across the small table from her. He took another deep drink, catching the way her dark eyes flickered over his working throat. "So," He put the bottle down, leaning back against his chair. "Where did this sudden urge to learn complicated lifts come from?"

"We tried lifts over the weekend." Mikasa spoke quietly. "I did most of the lifting."

Levi cracked his neck. "You wanted to be lifted, too, I'm assuming."

Mikasa shook her head. "I didn't care either way."

Levi felt slightly irritated. "Then why ask me?"

Several drops from the bottle slid over her skin, the fading sunlight from the windows painting the droplets in gold. "I'm not afraid to hurt you."

Levi watched the way her lips circled the rim of her bottle, the beads of water that clung to her bottom lip. "You're strong." He eyed her bare arms, the defined muscles shimmering with the barest sheen of sweat. He'd pressed his hand against her stomach a few times while they'd danced, had felt the hardness there, knew she had to put herself through brutal physical discipline to keep herself in such ruthless shape. "I'm stronger."

Her eyes met his at that. "Maybe." Her eyes drifted over him. "You're also older."

Levi nodded, his eyes lingering over her damp throat, the delicate sharpness of her collarbones. Yes, she was young and he wasn't quite young himself. "Years mean experience, Mikasa." He couldn't help but feel amused at her barb. "It gives me leverage."

"You may have more years, Levi." Her lips lifted in a small smile as she pressed the tip of the bottle against her mouth again, her dark eyes roving over him pointedly. "But that doesn't mean you have more experience." She swallowed, capping her bottle. "Or that you know how to use it."

Levi bit the inside of his cheek when her phone vibrated quietly, the table thrumming beneath it. She lifted the slim device, tapping at the screen, eyes flickering as she read.

"Eren?" Levi asked.

She nodded. "He's going to be late."

"Nothing unusual." He murmured, raking his mussed hair back. They sat there in comfortable silence, Levi watching the way she slowly relaxed in her chair, her head falling back after several minutes.

"You look exhausted." There was the faintest hint of a smudge beneath her eyes, a sluggishness to her movements that he had not seen before.

"I've been working late." She admitted, pressing the bottle to her neck again. "Haven't had much time to sleep." She touched her temples.

"Headache?"

She nodded, eyes shut.

He shouldn't he knew, but he could care less. He stood, dragging her chair towards him, standing over her. She stiffened when his fingers pressed in on her temples, lashes fluttering when he massaged, his thumbs sliding to her clenched jaw. "Keep your eyes closed."

Her breath shuddered out of her. "That feels…"

"I know." He murmured. "What kind of lifts did you practice?" He slid his fingers into her hair, more to feel it than to ease her achy head.

"A lot of them." She leaned into his touch the way a cat would, his pulse quickening at the sudden rasp of her voice. "I lifted Armin with one hand."

His lips quirked up. "That's easy. He's small, isn't he?" He'd seen a photo of the three of them and the blonde boy had looked slight and frail between them both, blue eyes alight with intelligence and happiness.

She looked up at him, sounding slightly disgruntled. "I lifted Eren with one arm." Her eyes slid down his chest. "I could lift you."

She moved to stand and he snatched her wrists instead, shaking his head. "Straddle the chair." She stared at him for a moment but complied, turning to straddle the chair face forward, propping her elbows on the back of it. "You're much too pale." He resumed his massaging of her temples. "You can prove it another day." His fingers moved down her neck. "Perhaps when you're not ready to drop dead."

"Hm." She stiffened when he found a ball of nerves at the nape of her neck, shifting when he pressed into it.

"When was the last time you took time off?" He swept his thumbs down her taut shoulder blades, circling into the muscle deftly. "You're as stiff as a damn corpse."

"I have this weekend off." She moved her hair aside for him, drawing his eyes to the elegant shape of her neck and shoulders. "I can't remember the last time I took a vacation." Her breath caught when he pressed his fingers into her tight left shoulder. "I don't like being aimless."

"You could travel." Levi moved to her other shoulder, pausing as the thought occurred to him. "Have you done any traveling?"

She pressed her forehead against the wood as his hands slid down her back. "No." She paused, as if unsure if she should continue speaking. "Eren and Armin have."

He frowned a little, fingers digging into her lower back. "Why didn't you join them?" He'd always had a goal to leave the stench of the city one day, had been saving up for it for a long, long time.

"I was offered a job at a very prominent company. If I took it I needed to start right away, so I did." Her gaze lowered. "It would benefit me more in the long run. I can always travel another day."

Levi pressed into a sore muscle just above her hip, her grip on the back of the chair tightening. He'd heard Eren and Mikasa mention Armin quite a few times, a softness appearing whenever they did. He was a childhood friend, that much he'd deduced, one they were fiercely protective of. "Where did they travel?"

"Everywhere." She sounded a little strained, her back arching as he pressed the knot away.

"That's quite a bit of travelling, then." He murmured. "Do you regret not traveling with them?" He'd latch onto Nile if it meant getting away from filthy sidewalks and car fumes.

She shook her head. "That has always been more their dream than mine." She watched as his hands moved down her arms. "I've always been happy with having a family again."

A family again?

She seemed to realize her slip of the tongue, her entire body stiffening, bracing herself for the inevitable question of again? He kept massaging her arms however, willing her to relax again, moving to her wrists and palms. "You've never wanted to travel anywhere?" He threw a pointed glance to the street outside the studio. "You're content living in this filthy city for the rest of your life?"

She smiled a little, relaxing. "No. I think I'd prefer the woods." Her gaze turned inwards. "As a child I lived with my parents in a small cabin, with a garden out back. My mother and I tended to it while my father would hunt." Her smile was pitifully small. "I'd like to live in a cabin again, some day."

She pulled her hair away again as he moved back to her neck, and in curiosity he touched the small scar upon her cheek. "Where did you—?"

She caught his hand, turning her head away from his touch, their fingers tangling. They locked together reflexively, both of them stilling—but she did not pull away, her dark eyes latched onto their entwined fingers. "It was an accident." She breathed.

He watched her closely, allowing the silence to draw out anything else she wanted to say, watching the nearly imperceptible struggle within her play out.

Her thumb slid over his scarred knuckles, her throat clearing as she steered the conversation away from her. "Fighting?"

He nodded curtly. "I didn't have much. I had to protect what I did." He didn't tell her that those scars were nothing in comparison to the ones fracturing his bones, the fissures in his soul and mind. "I wasn't going to let anyone take anything else from me."

She touched her own knuckles and there he saw the faint silvery lines of once split skin. Her scars were not as prominent as his—she'd healed better than he had. "You're like me." She sounded almost disbelieving.

"Like you?" Levi enjoyed the way her fingers kept stroking his knuckles, the muscles in his arms bunching to keep from moving. Her nail caught over an ugly raised ridge atop his wrist.

"Is that why I—?" She stopped, releasing his hand and gripping the back of the chair yet again. "Is that why I'm so drawn to you?"

He wasn't sure if she realized she was speaking aloud, the question more directed at herself than him. The admittance surprised him nonetheless, shoving the edge that had appeared between his ribs when he'd first found her deeper, making him a little unsteady.

"Maybe." He struggled to tell her that he saw the same jagged lines within her, hidden beneath dark impassive eyes, the hollow places within her heart shrouded with the carefully calculated distances she kept. "God knows I want to find out." He could admit that now, his touch upon her skin warming and shifting, as if he could open her like a lock, discover if they held the same thing within them.

If they had the same missing pieces.

He touched her chin, turning her to face him as he lowered his head. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, her breath warm and shaky against his palm.

"Mikasa…" He murmured, his hands gripping the back of the chair, encircling her in his arms. She tipped her head up and back just as his mouth found hers, her lips parting for the brush of his tongue. Her mouth moved along with his slowly, deliberately, none of the fierceness of their past kisses present but just as much intensity, and as he reveled in the feel of her open mouth beneath his he found he could taste the coldness of the water she'd drank, finding the barest hint of her strawberry lip balm.

She broke the kiss, her mouth pressed to the corner of his as she tried to catch her breath. "Levi…" She twisted in her chair, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, the buttons at the top of it slipping loose, the fabric parting over his upper chest. Her mouth touched the newly exposed skin, her fingers parting the rest of his shirt as her mouth lowered over his hard stomach. Her tongue felt scorching hot, the nip of her teeth making him hiss.

He smoothed the thin straps of her shirt off her shoulders, callused hands brushing over her skin, flushed a deep rosy color.

He was shaking, he realized, his fingers threading through her hair. He tugged her hair back, tipping her mouth up to his again, parting her teeth with the tip of his tongue. How long did they have?

Her nails dragged back up his shirt, gripping his collar, bunching the fabric as he slid his hand down her stomach. Let me, he found the hem of her skirt, dragging his hand up the inside of her thigh, breathing harshly when she parted them. He caught her gaze and held it, his jaw clenching as he found much softer skin.

Let me.

"Levi." She breathed his name against his mouth, her brow furrowed as her teeth dug into his bottom lip like knives. "Wait. I can't."

He went still, his hand freezing between her legs, his other hand bunching her skirt in his fist.

The words sounded ripped from her mouth. "We shouldn't…"

He touched his forehead to hers—almost weakly—willing his hand to move away with every inch of self-control he possessed. "If that's what you want." He slid her skirt back down for her. He straightened, every muscle in his body as stiff as his words. Eren could be here any minute. Anyone could have walked in on them. He hadn't been thinking clearly.

She never let him think clearly.

"Let me know when Eren gets here." He pushed the words past his teeth. "I'll be in my office."

"Levi…"

He walked away and she let him.

"I can lift you."

"Eren—"

"Mikasa, stop." Eren bit back a curse, hating the mocking way Levi was watching them. "Just let me try. Please."

Mikasa inhaled steadily, nodding. They'd been at their wits end and she'd tried every method to cut the lift out of the dance but as soon as Eren had watched the effortless way Levi had lifted her he'd tried, and tried—and failed.

Miserably.

It wasn't that he couldn't lift her—because he could do that quite deftly—what he couldn't do was lift her,keep his posture upright and go through the correct steps, fumbling at the twist. They'd tried it all, the tension mounting with every minute that ticked by.

Levi's grim looks weren't helping much either.

Eren set his jaw determinedly, wrapping his arms around her stiffly. "Again."

She nodded reluctantly and they went through the steps robotically. He crouched, preparing to lift her—and faltered just as he raised her, his arms trembling, nearly dropping them both.

She caught her balance, catching Eren in her arms as he stumbled. "Are you hurt?" She knew she was no featherweight, knew Eren didn't weigh much more than her, that she had weighed more than him until they'd hit their early twenties. He could have pulled a muscle, hurt his back and back injuries were always—

"No." Eren gritted his teeth. "I just didn't have my footing right."

Mikasa glanced at the clock on the wall, relief and disappointment making her throat ache. "The lesson is over, Eren." She straightened, smoothing her skirt, trying to press away the wrinkles Levi's grip had made.

Even if she couldn't press away the feel of his touch.

Mikasa shook the thought away. "We still have enough time to grab everything we need tonight."

That is, if he remembered what they were supposed to do—which she very much doubted.

She pressed her lips together, ignoring Levi's suddenly watchful look at her words. It seemed she needed to remind Eren why she'd been given this weekend off. "We're supposed to—"

Eren caught her gaze, the look within them fierce, silencing her. She knew that look intimately, knew that it meant he would not give an inch.

It had been the same look he'd worn when he'd saved her life. "I can give it another try."

We've already tried.

"The lesson is over." She repeated, almost a little mulishly. She would not let him hurt himself over something as ridiculous as lifting her for a wedding dance. She did not need a dance at all and all of this extra strain had been bogging her down.

Eren exhaled, glaring at the clock as if it had offended him. "Just—one more time, Mikasa. Please."

"Give it a rest." Levi stepped forward—between them—and Mikasa stiffened at his intrusion. "You're exhausted. We'll try again tomorrow." He eyed Eren critically, almost condescendingly, his next words making Eren look pitifully disheartened. "Or perhaps we can cut the lift completely."

Mikasa cut Levi a glare. "I told you to cut the lift since the beginning."

Levi shrugged. "I thought he could do it." He caught Eren's gaze again. "My mistake."

Eren moved forward, side stepping Levi and crowding Mikasa, grasping her elbows. "We're not going to cut it. I can do this. I did it at Sasha's, remember?"

"That was a different move, Eren." Mikasa curled her fingers into his sleeves. And it had been—this was different, more rigid and precise. "If you hurt yourself—"

"Stop." Eren shook his head, tension written all over him. "If Levi can lift me—if he can lift you—so can I."

"Eren." Levi grasped his shoulder tightly, voice hard. "Enough."

Eren stilled, eyeing Levi from over his shoulder, green eyes catching on the way his fingers bit into the fabric of his shirt tightly. His voice softened but it still held its weight. "I can do this, Levi."

Mikasa moved forward, grasping Levi's wrist, tugging it away from Eren's shoulder the way one removed a cat's claws. "Fine." She nodded, catching Eren's gaze. "We'll try one more time."

Levi lifted his head, narrowing his gaze as he scanned her features. She was momentarily riveted by the dark blue color of his eyes, by the way his dark hair fell over his brow. She saw his eyes slip to her mouth, felt her pulse leap in response, the phantom touch of his lips ghosting over hers, guilt and desire lodging just behind her clenched teeth.

Levi spoke quietly, his wrist still within the circle of her slim fingers. "Don't you think you've had enough, Mikasa?" His eyes traced over her throat, lingering over the hollow where her pulse leapt up, peeking just beneath her scarf. "For today?"

Mikasa released his wrist as he pulled away and before she could respond Eren stepped forward yet again, touching her waist. "Just…one more time, okay? Then we can go."

She nodded, smiling at him tentatively. He had remembered, then, and the relief of it made her relax. "Okay."

Eren smiled at her in return, his green eyes tracing over her features curiously and Levi stepped away.

Their hands touched, positioning themselves properly, moving through the steps yet again. To her surprise it went much more smoothly, the tension that had held them in its grasp earlier slipping away as if it had never been. Eren bowed awkwardly to lift her—and she let him, her body rising up unsteadily.

Eren laughed a little as he spun her slightly, his expression triumphant. "I did it." He shook her in his excitement, breathless as he kept spinning them. "I told you I could, didn't I?"

Mikasa broke her stance, reaching down to place her hands on his broad shoulders, her scarf slipping off and onto the polished floor. She smiled, a little excited despite her earlier reservation. "You did." But he always did the nigh impossible when he set his mind to something. Nothing was ever out of his reach if he tried hard enough, and he'd proved it time and time again.

He'd given her that same sense, the sense of being untouchable, of being able to do anything—as long as she had him by her side.

Had she really been willing to endanger that for a moment of lust and passion?

Eren's cell phone rang from across the room, causing Eren's arms to buckle slightly in surprise—and his shoe caught over the scarlet fabric of her scarf. Eren hissed as he fell back, his shoulder slamming into the wall, his weight taking Mikasa down with him.

She tried to right herself but he folded in onto her, her heel accidentally digging into his foot and making him jerk forward. She twisted her foot away from his, her other heel snapping from the pressure. Her foot scraped across the hard wood, twisting her ankle harshly, the pain flaring upwards.

Eren struggled to hold onto her, but they both fell forward, hitting the ground with an audible slap. The back of her head snapped against the floor hard, pain flashing across her skull—and she heard Eren shout her name before everything blurred, her vision darkening.

There was the sound of a constant, rhythmic tapping, stirring her from her slumber.

"If you don't stop shaking your leg," A familiar voice began. "I'm going to strangle you."

The tapping quieted. "Sorry."

Her lids lifted slightly, heavily, and she saw two chairs beside her bed, Levi and Eren sitting upon them. Eren was crouched forward, hands clasped together tightly while Levi had his legs crossed, fingers gripping the handles of his chair a bit too tightly. Armin stood behind Eren, his hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"You don't have to be here." Eren raked his hair back. "You did enough by driving us to the hospital."

Hospital?

She felt the hardness of an unfamiliar bed beneath her body, the smell of antiseptic and sickness within the air. There was a light overhead, much too bright, the window beside her covered in cheap cream colored blinds.

They'd brought her to a hospital?

"Why?" Levi threw a look towards Mikasa, unnoticing of her stirring. He looked at Eren pointedly. "So you could finish her off by dropping her in the parking lot?"

Eren winced. "I didn't…"

"She's fine." Armin squeezed Eren's shoulder reassuringly, his other hand ruffling his hair like a father would a child. "No concussion—but there was some mild dehydration. Looks like she isn't taking care of herself the way she should be." Eren linked his fingers with Armin's and Eren leaned his forehead against his knuckles, as if seeking comfort. "It was an accident, Eren." Armin repeated quietly.

"She could have caught herself." Levi shook his head, blue eyes flickering from Armin to Eren, lingering over their joined hands. "Her heel dug into your foot so she pulled it away and put all of her weight on the other. It's what made her heel snap." Levi looked to her heels propped on the small sink, one lower and on its side, the broken heel dangling by a thin strip. "She let herself fall to keep from hurting you."

Eren dropped his head into his hands. "I know."

"Eren." Armin murmured.

Eren spoke between clenched teeth. "I know. I know I'm an idiot alright? But I don't need—"

Mikasa willed herself to speak. "I'm fine." Her tongue felt thick, her throat dry, and her head hurt like they'd drilled nails into it but she'd be damned if she let Levi blame Eren for her mistake. "I'm okay, Eren."

Eren leapt up from his chair—and before she could blink his hands were on either side of her head, his mouth on hers. She stilled in surprise, his mouth moving against hers fervently—and then her eyes shut, her lips parting willingly, her heart swelling at his kiss.

She broke the kiss a moment later, grasping the sides of his head gently. "I'm okay."

Eren nodded, eyes still squeezed shut, his jagged breaths brushing against her lips. "I'm sorry."

Levi looked away, hands clenching into fists. He breathed slowly through his nose and in the reflection above the small cheap sink he spotted the way Armin was watching him instead of Mikasa and Eren, brow furrowed, surprise and concern and perception all rolled into one.

He didn't like that look one bit.

"I see you're awake." Levi muttered, standing, wiping his damp palms on his shirt as Eren pulled away. Mikasa looked at him, her gaze soft, her mouth swollen, kiss stung. The way he'd left her just hours before.

"Why did you…" Her voice sounded dry and splintered and Levi reached forward, shoving the cup of ice water into Eren's hands. Mikasa grimaced and swallowed as Eren tipped the drink into her mouth awkwardly, letting him help her sit up. She looked back to Levi. "Why did you bring me here?"

Levi held her gaze steadily. "You were unconscious."

Mikasa's pale hands pressed into the mattress. "I didn't need to be taken to a hospital."

Before Eren or Armin could speak Levi did, repeating himself slowly. "You were unconscious."

Mikasa looked away, moving to get off the bed when Armin lunged forward. "You'll rip the IV out!" He snagged her wrist.

"Mikasa." Eren grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back onto the bed. He was glaring at her—as much as he could—panic still making his eyes too bright. "You can't move yet."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not! You're dehydrated!" Eren snapped, pinning her to the mattress forcefully. "You hit your head. You hit your head because I dropped you. Because you let yourself fall so you wouldn't hurt me." His teeth were clenched, his voice shaky. "You're always protecting me—stop. Just, stop it, you don't need to protect me anymore."

"Eren—"

"Is it because you think you owe it to me?" His green eyes shimmered, voice thickening with tears he didn't show. "You don't. I never asked it of you."

Owe it to him? Levi watched the way Eren and Mikasa looked at one another, so much being displayed and so much unsaid, their eyes searching for questions they couldn't quite bring themselves to ask.

"I know." Mikasa said thinly.

Eren clenched his hands. "So stop."

Armin touched Eren's shoulder gently. "Eren."

"I'm fine." Mikasa twisted the fabric of Eren's shirt between her fingers, tugging as she averted her gaze. "I'm okay, Eren."

Eren dropped his forehead to hers weakly, relenting. "Yeah." He kissed her again. "Yeah. Okay. I'm sorry."

Levi watched them for several more seconds, his feet unmoving. If one didn't know better they could almost mistake them for new parents—which they could be quite soon. They were getting married after all, Armin most likely becoming the godfather. They'd be happy, he thought, everything coming together through the force of their will.

And he had no place in their lives.

Levi struggled to quell and name what he was feeling—until he found Armin watching him again. He bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm going to get coffee." He walked away.

He didn't think anyone heard him.

He'd tried, halfheartedly, to convince himself to leave. She was awake and she was well and she wasn't alone and he was an unnecessary presence.

He despised hospitals anyway.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, blue eyes narrowing when he spotted the muck at the bottom of the pot. He scowled, tossing the cup in the trash.

An elderly woman glared at him with a look a mother would give a disobedient child.

He explained needlessly. "They can't wash a fucking coffee pot properly."

"Here."

He turned when a styrofoam cup was pressed to the back of his hand, finding Armin standing beside him. "The coffee upstairs is better." He gestured to the filthy coffee pot. "Or, well, cleaner."

Levi took the cup a little warily. "Upstairs?" This was the lobby. Where else had he gotten coffee?

"I work here." Armin informed him, waving at the group of nurses walking past them as if to emphasize his point. "I just wasn't supposed to be working today. My schedule switches constantly. Eren thought I was in today."

Ah. That explained why Eren had insisted on bringing her to this hospital in particular and why Armin had been very informative.

"Little too young to be a doctor, aren't you?"

Armin nodded. "Still learning." He shrugged. "May have skipped a grade or two."

Levi nodded, examining his cup critically. He couldn't quite tell if the boy was bragging and he didn't quite care.

"So," Armin stuffed one hand into his pocket, the other cradling his own cup against his thin chest. "You're the dance instructor."

Levi took a careful sip. "I am."

"The way you spoke to Eren was very angry." Armin didn't say it with much venom, not with much emotion at all really, his gaze thoughtful instead of accusing. "Are you worried they'll take legal action against you?"

Levi swallowed the bitter drink, almost biting back a laugh. "No." With the forms they'd signed they couldn't even if they wanted to and, despite not knowing them much, the thought hadn't occurred to him. They didn't seem like the type, anyway.

"I've known Eren for almost my entire life." Armin grabbed the small plastic container of sugar and slid it over to Levi, as if sensing his distaste. "He's honest. He's always looked everyone straight in the eye and said whatever came to his mind. No filter." His small mouth was curved up gently. "It got him into a lot of trouble." Armin took another sip. "But lately…" Armin swirled his cup, more out of habit than need. "He hasn't really been able to look Mikasa in the eye. Or me, when I ask him if something is going on."

Levi wondered if the boy really didn't know. "Is that so?" He spilled a packet of sugar into his coffee.

"It was just us. He couldn't look us in the eye. Everyone else was excluded—until just now." Armin's blue eyes caught his—and to his surprise he found he could not look away. "He couldn't quite look at you, Levi."

Levi pressed his lips together, looking away. "I don't care."

Armin's pale fingers tightened about his cup. "Is there something going on with Eren, Levi?" Armin licked his lips. "It's obvious you know what it is."

Levi felt as if he'd rusted, his movements slow, weary, beads of sugar clinging to his fingertips.

"You don't have to tell me what it is. Not exactly." Armin lowered his voice. "I just want to know if Eren is okay. If he isn't in any trouble."

"Oh, he's fine." Levi brought the cup to his lips again, the burn of the liquid hiding any sweetness. "He's just fucking peachy." Levi lowered the cup. "Mikasa is the one you should be worried about, don't you think?" His lips twisted, preparing to continue—when he realized saying anything was probably a bad idea.

When the hell had Levi cared about what he said?

"Mikasa?" Armin breathed, watching him carefully. "Mikasa is fine. She's just a little dehydrated. She works too much and sometimes forgets she's not a machine."

Levi scowled, the question tearing from his mouth unwillingly. "What did Eren mean?" Levi glared at nothing in particular. "Owe it to him? What does she owe him?"

Armin's blue eyes examined Levi's features, slightly perplexed by his interest. "Eren saved Mikasa's life."

Levi looked up at him, his grip slackening.

Saved her life?

"How?"

Armin licked his lips, contemplating whether he should explain or not. "It was—a long time ago. They were children. Mikasa was abducted and almost…sold. Eren found her and saved her. They've been together ever since."

He knew Armin had watered it down, knew he wasn't nearly telling him even half the story but it started to make a sickening amount of sense to him; Eren's idiocy and Mikasa's devotion, her protectiveness, how she accepted his unfaithfulness so calmly. Owe it him.

"Is that why she's marrying him?" Levi held Armin's gaze intently.

Armin shook his head. "Of course not. They grew up together. They love each other. They have since they were kids. Mikasa is marrying him because she loves him and…" Armin trailed off when Levi looked away. Realization struck Armin visibly and he blinked rapidly. "You and Mikasa?" Armin's voice was weak. "Are you…?"

Levi had had enough. "I'm leaving."

Levi tossed the cup into the trash—for the second time—and walked down the hall without another word.

It didn't surprise Levi when he received a phone call from Eren the next day. The doctor had ordered Mikasa to take it easy for a few days—more for her dehydration than her head.

Which, much to his dismay, relieved him endlessly.

"We won't be showing up this weekend." Eren informed him unnecessarily.

"Alright." Levi muttered, cloth in his grip, table still not as glossy as it should be. He should be glad, he thought. He'd have a bit more free time during his evenings.

Eren breathed slowly. "Sorry about…everything. Thank you for driving us to the hospital."

Levi didn't reply.

"Alright. I'm heading out. I'll see you in a few days."

Levi clenched his teeth but the words broke through anyway. "Are you taking care of her?"

Eren hung up before he heard him.

"I can't find my jacket." Eren muttered, rummaging through the closet. "Mikasa do you know where my jacket is?"

Mikasa dragged a towel through her damp hair, looking at Eren over her shoulder. "At the studio." She paused. "You didn't have it at the hospital."

Eren dropped his forehead against the wall with a dull thud. "Shit. You're right." He sighed wearily. "I'll pick it up after work. I'm running late."

Mikasa shook her head. "I'll get it."

Eren gave her a hard look. "You're staying in. The doctor said to take it easy."

"My scarf is there, too." Mikasa began to comb her short black hair. "I need to get a few things from the supermarket, anyway."

Eren sat on the bed behind her, pushing his head against her shoulder tiredly. "If you're not going to listen to me," He groaned. "Can you at least listen to the doctor?"

Mikasa felt herself smile a little, leaning against him affectionately. "I'll come straight home after."

A few drops of water fell onto his nose and he pulled away. "Promise?"

She nodded, wiping his face with her towel. "Promise."

Eren smiled, getting up from the bed. "I need to get to work. I might work pretty late tonight." He cracked his neck. "If you need anything just give me a call alright?"

She nodded, stilling when he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He'd been more affectionate with her these past two days then he'd been in months.

"I'll check on you in the morning."

She smiled. "See you tomorrow, then."

He'd just stopped to pick up a cup of coffee when he spotted Annie sitting in the corner of the café, the low glow of her laptop illuminating her—pinched—features. She was dressed in a tailored jacket and pencil skirt, the color an ice gray that made the blue of her eyes much more stark than usual. She lifted her cup to her lips, grimacing a little when she found it empty, tossing the cup with careless precision into the bin several feet away from her. Her small fingers kept tapping at the keyboard rapidly, her eyes occasionally shifting to the window two tables over, her brow furrowed.

And though he couldn't be sure, she seemed worried.

Eren added another drink to his order, waiting until they handed him both cups before walking over to her.

She looked up at the very last second, a brief narrowing of her eyes the only hint of surprise she gave.

"Hey." He slid the cup over, seating himself across from her while watching her carefully.

She took the cup, shutting and shifting her laptop away to give them more space. "Hey."

Eren nodded to her laptop, eyeing her suit. "What have you been up to?"

Annie took a tentative sip of her drink, relaxing once the familiar taste of her tea curled over her tongue. "Job interview."

Eren pulled his cup away from his lips at that. "You're job hunting?"

She looked away. "It's what job interviews are usually for, yeah."

He nodded stiffly, feeling a little slow. She'd said she'd escaped—or, willingly left—her father's ironed out plan but Eren had always held onto that small warning his gut had constantly repeated, knowing she could very easily go back, that he couldn't let himself hope again. But if she was job hunting—perhaps, just perhaps, she was really going to stay this time. "You're serious about staying, then?"

Annie looked away, saying nothing. The silence felt thick.

"It's not only for you, you know." Annie murmured after a few minutes.

He was going to be awfully late for work. "I know." Eren brushed his fingertips over her sharp knuckles. "I'm glad you're finally doing it, Annie." How many times had he asked her to go for what she wanted instead of what her father had asked of her? Demanded of her? How many times had he encouraged her to take the classes her eyes lingered over when she didn't notice him watching? "You always liked those art classes." His smile grew as he remembered those talks they'd had until sunrise. "You told me you liked the idea of becoming a tattoo artist." He recalled, remembering the small sketches she'd shown him one night.

"You're an idiot, Eren." Annie turned her palm upwards, making his pulse thicken and slow. Her fingernails dragged across his skin. "But you were right."

He grinned, the callused pads of his fingers dipping into the center of her palm. "That's the first time you've ever said that to me."

Her blue eyes were soft with amusement. "Don't get used to it."

He laughed, linking their fingers over the table and squeezing affectionately. "I won't."

Annie allowed him to hold her hand the way she had when they'd gone on dates. There was a wistfulness seeping into his chest; memories of their time together flitting through him brightly.

Except this wasn't a date.

Or it shouldn't be.

She'd left and he'd moved on and what they were doing was like trying to salvage the bones of what they'd once had.

"Annie…"

She hummed quietly, relaxing her fingers between his. She looked up when he didn't reply—and she froze at his expression, her guards coming up instantly.

She knew what he was going to say.

And he hated himself for it.

"What are we doing, Annie?"

Annie pulled her hand away slowly. "Eren…" She didn't say anything else, just his name, her voice catching at the very end—and the small sound nearly undid him.

"I think we...I think we need to rethink things." He kept his gaze focused on the scared surface of the table. His hands kept clenching as he forced the words past his teeth. "I loved you for a very long time but what we're doing—it's a mistake. I want to fix it but I don't know how—"

Annie shifted her laptop before her. She opened it, the screen flickering brightly.

"I know." Her voice was strained despite the blankness of her features. She swallowed and spoke again and this time her voice was quiet and steady. "It's fine."

"Annie…"

She began typing—and it was as if he no longer existed.

He left, walking a little unsteadily, his cup of coffee forgotten on the table.

Levi glared at the offensive jacket darkly.

He could throw it away, he supposed. Logical thing would be to set it aside until they returned to pick it up but Levi wasn't feeling particularly logical and hadn't since he'd met her. He could perhaps set it ablaze and watch it wither up in the alleyway beside their building. Or, perhaps give it to one of the homeless men that straggled about and give his karma a badly needed bone.

The thought of them returning for a dance lesson and finding a random street rat wearing his jacket was awfully amusing.

"What's wrong, Levi?" Erwin prompted, sitting behind his desk, blue eyes on the sheets of paper scattered over it. "You've been quiet."

Levi dragged his gaze away from the jacket. Erwin had noticed Levi following him about more than usual—though he'd said nothing at first—and he'd finally cracked. "I don't think I can teach them to dance."

Erwin hummed. "Do they not cooperate?"

Levi bit the inside of his cheek. "They try. They lack chemistry. It's robotic—the way they move." Though when Eren had lifted her the last time they'd seemed relaxed; a breakthrough that had been short lived. He should have been pleased to see them move the way they had—however briefly—but he'd only felt curiously bitter. Even if he had felt any sense of accomplishment at finally getting them to learn it would have been largely overshadowed by seeing Mikasa's head snap against the ground.

"I can teach them the steps but I can't teach them anything more."

Erwin scribbled something down, speaking half-distractedly. "Then don't."

He wondered how she'd react once she saw him on her doorstep.

He stood, grabbing the jacket stiffly, its fate sealed. There was only one way to find out. "I won't." He muttered. "Do you mind closing up?"

Erwin shook his head. "Not at all."

Levi nodded, grabbing her scarf and pausing briefly. He wondered how she was holding up without her withered security blanket. "Until tomorrow, Erwin."

After buying everything she needed Mikasa met Armin for a quick bite, his spacey apartment smelling of spices and smoke.

"I'm in here." Armin called from the kitchen and Mikasa tugged her jacket off. She'd almost reached for her scarf before realizing she still didn't have it, shaking her head as she kicked off her shoes. "Food is ready."

Mikasa slid a chair out and took a seat, eyeing Armin as he slipped a plate towards her. "What is this?"

Armin sat beside her, his own plate before him. "I'm learning how to cook Mexican food since Jean won't stop eating it."

Mikasa hummed, taking a tentative bite and letting the spices linger on her tongue. Armin watched her carefully.

"It's good." She took another bite. "Might be too spicy for Jean."

Armin laughed quietly. "Yeah. He can't handle too much zing." Armin swallowed his own spoonful and seemed satisfied. "Not the way we can, anyway."

Eren hadn't been one for spices either though he never really liked admitting it, especially when Armin and Mikasa had been able to stomach mouthfuls of jalapenos in one sitting.

She wondered if Levi liked spicy foods.

Armin spoke after swallowing. "Eren's working late today?"

Mikasa shook the thought off, reaching for a glass of water. "Yes. I spoke to him a while ago—he might spend the night there."

Armin nodded. "Eren's usually pretty busy during this time."

The conversation flowed smoothly as they finished up. Mikasa swept up their bowls and cups, Armin opening the double balcony doors and lighting his cigarette as she washed. He sat up on the edge of the balcony, turning his back to the sky. His blue eyes watched her curiously.

Mikasa didn't look away from her soapy hands. "Is something wrong, Armin?"

While their conversation had been easy she'd noticed his eyes lingering over her; his teeth had constantly bit at his chapped lips. Mikasa was not one to pry however and had decided to wait until he was ready to tell her himself.

"Levi." Armin breathed his name out with a haze of smoke. "He was kind of…involved, wasn't he?"

Mikasa began to rinse the dishes slowly. "Perhaps he was worried we'd sue him."

Armin huffed. "I said the same thing to him."

Mikasa turned at that. "What did he say?"

Armin shook his head. "He wasn't worried about that." He gestured to her head, glowing embers falling from the tip of his thin cigarette. "He was more worried about you."

Mikasa shut the water off. "It was unnecessary." She placed them on a towel beside the sink.

"Not exactly." Armin breathed out slowly, looking young and frail beneath the night sky. "I've wanted to ask you something, but I think I know the answer."

Mikasa licked her lips, coming to sit beside him upon the balcony. She toyed with the ends of the dish towel in her damp hands. "What question, Armin?"

Armin eyed her through the smoke sifting between them. "What's going on between you and Levi, Mikasa?"

By the time Eren left work he felt half dead. His feet dragged against the gritty pavement and his temples throbbed. Too much fucking paperwork and too much small print that had to be thoroughly read once—twice and three times over—mountains of boxes and shelves that needed to be sifted through.

"We're being audited," he'd been informed and had been thrown into a building of endless chaos and frazzled nerves.

He'd tried to lose himself in his work, tried not to think of the small sound she'd made when she'd said his name and of how icy she'd become after—and he found focusing on work was nearly impossible.

What could he say? What could—should—he do now? Would telling Mikasa do any good? Maybe she deserved to know but if he could keep it to himself and bear all the pain alone, quietly—why should he hurt her when he didn't have to?

Even if he could muster the resolve to tell her he wouldn't know how to begin.

"I was screwing Annie behind your back but it's over now. Sorry."

Except it wasn't just 'screwing' and he knew that. He swallowed Annie whole—cradled and clung to her. He'd clutched her pale hair and demanded that she look at him even when they both lost control. He memorized every sharp angle and curve of her slight body, every sound she'd made even when she hadn't wanted to.

He groaned, running his hands over his face miserably. He needed a fucking drink. He could feel a migraine beginning to form, the pain cracking up his jawline and pressing in at his temples. The bright glow of the streetlights made his eyes narrow as he walked down the sidewalk.

He shoved his fists in his jean pockets, shoulders hunched as he made his way home for a quick shower and some food before he spent the night at work.

He didn't notice that he wasn't walking home until he found himself in front of Annie's place, the front porch lit up as she stood there with Bertolt.

Bertolt?

Annie murmured something—too low for him to catch—and he pressed against the dilapidated wooden fence to stay hidden, willing his heart to slow its vicious rhythm.

Why was Bertolt here?

Bertolt touched the back of his neck in agitation, nodding and pulling away from her. He walked down the steps slowly—then turned back. His throat worked as he spoke. "Annie…"

Annie had her small hands tucked into the front of her hoodie, her shoulders hunched against the cold. Her blue eyes watched Bertolt impassively. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." Bertolt mumbled, cheekbones flushed. He looked as if he wanted to say something else but he shook his head instead. He turned, walking away—but Annie called out and he froze.

"Bertolt?"

He blinked, looking up at her again. "Yes?"

She looked away, shifting—almost—a little awkwardly. "Thanks. For…" She shrugged. "Caring. For talking to me." She looked disgruntled with herself, as if she hadn't wanted to say the words but had forced them out nonetheless.

Bertolt looked as stunned as Eren felt—but then he smiled, looking at her the way he had since they'd been a bunch of kids in high school. "You're welcome, Annie."

Bertolt walked away and towards him—forcing Eren to slip behind the trunk of a tree so he wouldn't be seen. His fingernails bit into the bark as he waited for Bertolt to turn around the corner, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his skull.

He should leave.

Whatever was going on between Annie and Bertolt wasn't any of his concern. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter.

He turned away, taking one step, another—and stopping, his teeth gritting. The week had been fucking awful, work had been busy enough as it is, now they were being audited, he'd cut it off with Annie, the dancing lessons had been pure fucking disaster—for god's sake he'd dropped Mikasa on her head—and now the sight of Bertolt and Annie had filled him up with something dark and bitter. He wanted to forget about it all and wanted to have a drink—but maybe…maybe he just wanted Annie.

Maybe he wanted to feel her small body pressed against his larger one, feel her soft blonde hair under his rough fingers and get her icy blue glare to melt the way he'd always had.

He swallowed, grabbing his phone and dialing Mikasa, cursing the shake in his hands. "Hey, Mikasa." He breathed out, leaning against the fence. "How do you feel?"

"Eren," She sounded a little relieved, making the guilt thicken. "I'm fine. Are you still at work?"

"Yeah." He could hear the rattle of cashiers and shopping carts in the background. Was she still out in town? "It's going to be a little crazy for a while so I'm going to spend the night at the office." He kicked at a pebble, watching it skid off the sidewalk and onto the street. "I have a really bad headache, though."

He felt like kicking himself as soon as the words were out. He had a really bad headache? He'd dropped her on her head.

She sounded worried nonetheless—but she was always worried for him. "I could take you some aspirin—"

"No." Eren said quickly. "No, it's fine. Thanks."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. I just wanted to let you know." He licked his lips. "Go straight home."

Another pause. "I am."

Eren exhaled. "Good night, Mikasa."

She breathed in slowly, the little sound of it against the phone speaker almost endearing. "Good night, Eren."

"I…" He faltered a little, his green eyes eyeing Annie's front door. "I love you."

And he meant it. He did. He loved Mikasa fiercely. They'd gone through hell and back together and he would never be complete without her. He couldn't imagine life without her just the way he couldn't imagine not having Armin. They were his family, too.

But he couldn't stay away from Annie.

He just couldn't.

There was a smile in her voice. "I love you, too, Eren."

He hung up slowly, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth as he walked up to her door. He lifted his fist to knock and hesitated. The times they'd usually met had been chaotic and haphazard, rushed and fierce and almost accidental—but this was infinitely different.

He was at her home now. This was him deliberately seeking her, asking her. There was no risk of being caught here—they'd have the privacy of a bedroom, time to think and stop before they touched one another.

Every other time had felt like a storm, the choice ripped out of their hands as they'd collided.

There was no storm now. The choice was there in his hands and he was making it and he'd be asking her to, too.

He lifted his fist, knocking twice. He held his breath.

If she doesn't answer I'll leave. I won't persist. I shouldn't be here. This is wrong.

The door opened and his green eyes found her. Her blonde hair was disheveled and her blue eyes were slightly irritated—his gaze snagging on something pink at the corner of her lips. She was wearing a huge sweatshirt that looked more like a nightgown on her, the sleeves engulfing her small hands completely.

She lifted her fingertips to her mouth and wiped away the pink color—strawberry ice cream, Eren guessed—away. She'd devoured that stuff ravenously since he'd first known her. "What are you doing here?" She sounded as vexed as she looked, nothing like the way she'd spoken to Bertolt. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know. I know what I said but I'm not sure I meant it. I don't want to push you away or for you to push me away I don't want you to leave. I was walking home and somehow I ended up here in front of your house and I—" He paused. "I can't." He moved as if strings tugged him towards her helplessly. "I can't stay away." His hands touched her small waist, finding her hips amidst the excess of fabric. "Can I stay?" He leaned down, brushing his mouth over her cheek. He knew she could feel him shaking. "Is it okay if I stay with you, Annie?"

She gave him a hard look and pulled away. "You're giving me whiplash." She shoved her hands into the front pocket of the sweatshirt again. "You said it was a mistake." Annie's body was rigid. "If you think I'm only doing this to get back at Mikasa why do you keep coming back, Eren?"

Eren bit the inside of his cheek. "It is. We shouldn't be doing this but—" He clenched his fists. "I can't keep away from you. I keep telling myself this is wrong—it's hurting her, hurting you. I tell myself you'll just end up hurting me again but—what does it matter?" He swallowed thickly. "What does all that other shit matter now that I have you here with me? Now that I finally have you back when I went without you for so long?" He wiped his damp palms on his jeans. "You can turn me away. As much as you hurt me you don't deserve this, either." He had to be brutally honest with himself, with her, couldn't sugar coat anything for the life of him. "Do you want me to go?" He clenched his jaw. "Or can I stay?"

Her eyes searched his for a long time. "You're an idiot, Eren." She swallowed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like I'm an idiot—before dragging him towards her and lifting her mouth up to his in silent answer.

Eren was surprisingly forgetful.

He'd forgotten their anniversary, for one.

He'd also forgotten he was supposed to help her paint the apartment.

But—Mikasa reminded herself grimly, wiping her paint smeared fingers on her t shirt— Eren had been particularly attentive, lately.

He was busy and often didn't answer her calls or texts—but when he was beside her he was unusually affectionate and struggled to keep his temper in check where before he hadn't quite cared to filter it. He'd concentrated fiercely on the dance steps she and Levi so effortlessly moved through and the effort he'd given had moved her deeply.

He was trying and it was more than she could have asked for, despite Levi's ridicule.

Despite what she felt for Levi.

She shook off the thought, refusing to dwell on him or the way they'd kissed.

Again.

She hadn't been able to lie to Armin, nor had she wanted to. He'd only watched her quietly and to her surprise she'd told him everything, sparing herself nothing, telling him all she had done and had continued to do.

You need to talk to Eren, Mikasa was all Armin had told her, squeezing her hand.

In her restlessness she'd uncapped the two cans of paint she'd bought, taping and covering the counters and furniture meticulously, burying her unease with her work. It was soothing to say the least with her music crooning quietly in the background. The muscles in her arms and back began to burn pleasantly as she rolled the warm ocher color over her living room and kitchen walls. She'd opened the windows to let the night breeze sweep in, helping dissipate the suffocating scent of the paint—when a knock suddenly sounded on her door.

She blinked, breaking from her reverie. She put the roller down and tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling herself smear paint across her cheek. She cursed quietly and made her way to the door.

Was it Eren? He'd sounded so strained over the phone. Worry suddenly knotted her insides as she reached for the door—and paused briefly, eyeing her messy appearance in slight dismay.

She shook her head, dismissing her self-consciousness as she twisted the knob—it was Eren, after all—and came face to face with Levi instead.

His thin brows rose. "I see you're still alive." He cocked his head as he eyed her, taking in her disheveled appearance; paint stained oversized t-shirt, messily tied hair, stringy jean shorts, bare legs and all. He parted his lips—then snapped them shut, seeming to rethink his question. He cleared his throat. "You paint?"

"No." She gathered her composure, stemming the urge to pull down on her shorts. "I'm painting my living room."

His eyes slid past her, seeing the half painted walls. Realization touched his dark blue eyes and he gave a barely perceptible nod. "That's what Eren forgot." He murmured—more to himself. "Painting."

His eyes found hers again, lingering over the curve of her face, her dark hair—and she flushed a little. She must look filthy. "Was there something you needed?" Her eyes narrowed when she saw she'd smeared paint on the door knob too. "Or did you come just to say that?"

"I thought it'd be a good idea to make sure you were taking it easy—but you're not." He lifted his right hand, showing both Eren's dark jacket and her scarf dangling off a curled finger. "You two left this at the studio."

He held them out to her as his eyes continued examining the inside of her apartment. She took advantage of his inattention to survey him herself, realizing he was a bit more formal today than usual. The ice grey vest over his dark blue button up shirt was unbuttoned and hanging limply from his broad shoulders, slightly wrinkled, looking untucked. His sleeves were only half rolled up but even so the veins in his arms were visible. He had strong hands she knew, had felt them lift and twist her quickly and easily—but they could be gentle, too, careful as they slid into her hair, tracing her jaw and cradling her head.

She inhaled, dragging her eyes back up to his. "How did you know my address?"

Levi looked a little exasperated. "Did you forget all the paperwork you filled out?" He shoved the jacket and scarf towards her, urging her to take it. "You weren't answering my phone calls."

His calls? She looked behind her, remembering how she'd set her phone to charge in her bedroom as she'd painted, the music most likely having shrouded any ringing.

Had he been worried?

"Thank you." Mikasa reached for them but paused when she spotted paint still smeared on her fingers and wrist. "Let me wash my hands."

Levi eyed her form once again. "Please do."

She felt the corner of her lips twitch as she stepped away and into the kitchen, the rush of the water muffling the sound of the door shutting. She tried to remove all traces of paint from her hands and arms quickly. Levi followed behind her more slowly, draping the jacket and scarf on the back of a chair, his dark blue eyes surveying her small apartment critically.

She wondered if it met with his approval. "I swung by the studio a while ago." Mikasa lathered the soap up to her elbows. "It was closed."

Levi nodded. "I left early and Erwin never stays late." He grabbed a napkin from the counter, wiping at a splotch of paint on the floor. "You're lucky I caught that before it dried." He muttered.

She'd seen enough to know that he was quite particular when it came to cleanliness. She could remember the spotlessness of his home, his bedroom, the way he had to stop and drop everything if there was a spill in the studio, no trace of dust that escaped his sharp eyes.

While she did like to keep her things neat she doubted she was up to par—considering the mess of tape, plastic coverings and paint littering her place at the moment.

Before she could shut off the water she saw him reach forward, dipping a clean dishcloth into the stream. He pressed it to her cheek gently, wiping at the smear she'd forgotten.

"You're a mess." His voice was thicker than usual, his eyes a touch darker. "You're alone?"

She felt her pulse kick up at his proximity, his scent a strange mixture of soap and lemon wood polish. "Eren's working." She shut the water off and turned away.

Levi placed the dish towel onto the counter. "For how long?"

She walked into the living room, tugging at her hair band and shaking her hair loose. She scratched at her scalp gently—pressing her lips together tightly when she accidentally brushed the sore spot at the back of her head. "He's spending the night at work because he has a lot to do. Eren's a very hard worker." She sounded tight and wound up even to herself—knew she had no reason to defend Eren's absence.

He said nothing—only calmly removed his vest and folded it, rolling up his sleeves swiftly.

She went very still. "What are you doing?"

Levi undid the top three buttons of his shirt, exposing his throat and collarbones, walking towards the rollers and paint buckets. "This place is a fucking mess. Can't really stand it." He shook his head in disapproval. "You have another roller?"

She faltered. "Yes."

"Good." He muttered, lifting the freshly dipped roller to the wall. His strokes were even, measured and neat and her gaze focused on the way the muscles in his arms worked for a little too long. "Go get it. I have nothing better to do tonight, anyway."

She hesitated for a moment, recalling the thoughts that had pressed down on her chest on her drive home. She'd been set on talking to Eren—and she still was—but she'd also been set on cutting Levi out of her life. The thought had bothered her much more than she'd ever thought it would, bringing a question she hadn't wanted to dwell on; what did it matter if she never saw the man again?

He'd only criticized them from the beginning, demeaning them and pointed out flaw after flaw, insulted Eren countless times. He'd enjoyed flustering her, enjoyed making Eren feel inferior, enjoyed provoking her and making her pulse race when Eren wasn't looking.

He'd only picked her up when he'd found her kneeling on the sidewalk, treated her scrapes and given her a place to stay. He'd only kept quiet about how they'd first met, never threatened to tell anyone of what had happened though he could have. He'd only driven them to the hospital and stayed until she'd woken. He'd only been worried enough to come all this way to check on her, using Eren's jacket and her scarf as a flimsy pretext.

He bent forward, rolling the roller into the paint again, turning to look at her as his hair fell over his brow. His dark blue eyes scanned her. "What is it?"

She was sure after speaking with Eren seeing Levi again…wouldn't be wise. Perhaps she could have just tonight with him. Just for a while before she ended whatever kept blooming between them.

She looked away, shaking her head—and left to get the other rollers with a gentle smile gracing her lips.

Sasha hadn't planned on walking home that day. It hadn't been the best of days—she'd had to leave her car in the shop after it decided it didn't want to start, almost giving her entire check to the mechanic to have it ready by the end of the week. She couldn't even scrounge up a measly amount of change for the bus—or even lunch—and Mikasa or Connie hadn't answered the phone, and instead of waiting about she'd decided to have a long, long walk.

She'd just been passing their old neighborhood, eyeing the house where Annie used to live. She slowed down her pace, hands in her pockets, recalling the reserved girl who'd once been their friend—when the door opened, Eren slipping out onto the porch.

Sasha froze, her breath catching in her throat. Eren looked disheveled; his hair mussed every which way, his clothes slightly twisted. He didn't have a jacket and his mouth was red and slightly swollen and she knew even if she didn't want to.

Eren's green gaze lifted, catching hers, and they went wide with shock and horror as he realized that she really was standing there.

Before either of them could say a word the door opened again and Annie was there, holding Eren's wallet and cell phone, shoving them at him carelessly. At his lack of reaction she scowled and looked up, following his gaze—and spotted Sasha just on the sidewalk.

Oh, no. Please, please, no.

"You guys…" Sasha shook her head, equal amounts of panic and disgust rising within her. This would break Mikasa, this would cut her wide open, and she wanted to unsee it, didn't want to know but she did, she did and Mikasa had to know. "Mikasa…"

"Sasha." Eren croaked, and Sasha's body finally moved, feet stumbling back.

"Eren…" She gritted her teeth. "Eren, how…?" Sasha turned her gaze to Annie. "And Annie?" Sasha struggled to speak past the thickness of her throat, shaking her head. "How could you?"

Annie's throat worked—but she looked away, staying silent.

Eren stumbled down the porch steps. "Sasha, wait." He reached out. "Please don't—"

Sasha shook her head fiercely, tripping forward and away. Mikasa needed to know, even if it would cut her up, even if Sasha desperately didn't want to tell her, she needed to tell her now before she could convince herself not to, before Eren or Annie could convince her, no matter how hard it'd be—she needed to know.

"Sasha, listen to me!" Eren ran towards her. "Sasha, wait!"

Sasha shot forward, running as quickly as she could, determined to reach Mikasa before Eren—or anything—could stop her.

A/N-This is probably riddled with mistakes, I'm incredibly sorry I just figured I'd update now before I lost the nerve.

I'll make any corrections when I get back home.

Since the next chapter is done it should be up fairly quickly but I've said that before, haven't I? Thank you for reading, and for encouraging me to continue this wreck of a fic. I hope you don't completely hate it.