The benefit of being himself was that everyone eventually learned how to deal with him. It also left the impression that he was a short, heartless monster that Irvin let wander the Corps. And that suited Levi just fine. He had his friends, his enemies, and his life in a place he could tolerate and maybe enjoy. And there was a specific woman that found him to be something more than just a sullen face or something to flinch at. She appreciated his cup of ginger tea, though saying nothing as she sweetened it. The kitchen was too public to discuss anything.

Later. After ignoring Irvin's messengers. After snapping and glaring at anyone stupid enough to gossip. After a long, long shower and tidying up his immaculate room. Later, when they were both more level headed and less in pain, they could talk. Sort out things that they were too old to talk about. Crushes. Drinking a bit too much. Hormones. What to do next. 'Later' taunted him with a million possibilities.

A million, irritating possibilities. However, none of them involved Armin approaching him.

"How do you feel about Hanji Zoe?"

The middle of a hallway was not the most private place to discuss, but Armin let the words tumble out anyway. Levi placed the bucket of dirty mop water on the ground. Was this Armin's attempt of being intimidating? Was he that infatuated with the idea of Hanji Zoe kissing him that he would turn into your average teenager?

"How's your nose?"

Armin's hand flew over the slight bump on his nose.

"Fine. But you still haven't answered my question."

"Do you think a kiss from a drunk woman means anything?"

"Do you think sex with a drunk woman means anything?"

He should have expected that. Levi glanced out the window. What could be said? The kiss and the sex, both of them were influenced by the thick haze of alcohol. Of the three of them, only Armin held any sort of clarity last night, and even that was being distorted by the sheer exhilaration of his crush kissing him with the same passion as a lover. Or, if Levi wanted to be haughty, the same she gave him last night. Every shred of reality and sense was watered down and smelled faintly of bleach.

"Go ask her. She should have stopped complaining by now."

Levi took up his bucket, leaving the kid in the hallway. He hated messes of all kinds. He had been furiously cleaning all day to distract himself from the mess his drinking got him into. There was holding back from bashing a mouthy Connie with his mop and avoiding Irvin with ease, though it helped that hangovers left him useless. After dumping the bucket in the courtyard, it came to mind.

Possibilities. The confusing, frightening possibility that for some god forsaken reason Hanji would pick the brat over him, Armin could talk to her about her passions, give her genuine ideas based off of what he knew and keep up with her overwhelming mind. That alone was enough discouragement in his state of uncommon worry. When was the last time he felt so childish, picking at himself like a scab? Over a girl that couldn't handle her alcohol. But he hadn't done any better. Did sex mean anything when stuck under a drunken haze? Armin's words lurked in the back of his mind, digging up unpleasant thoughts that grew with ease.

And what did he have to offer her? His usual scowl? Shit jokes? Falling asleep on her long winded speeches? Levi shook his head, knuckles blanching as he held the bucket's handle. There was a simple approach to this. Not care what she said. She would remain his friend despite her words. That would be hard. Despite his reluctance to admit it to anyone, he had punched the kid for a reason. Levi loved her; he at least felt something strong enough to warrant punching someone she kissed and punching him far harder than needed.

Hanji was Hanji. Loud, obnoxious, and overbearing. She ignored his personal space and made her own little nook instead. He allowed it for convenience, tolerated it for sanity, and grew to love it in time. Her presence and smile were constants in his life. Her babbling lulled him into peaceful, perfect slumbers with no nightmares. He learned how she took her tea, where to put the tea bags so her half awake fumbling would be reduced, and knew her sick brew. He knew of her father, the estranged blacksmith, her dead mother, and her pet dog that ran away when she was five. Her drink of choice, the spot on the balls of her feet that if you pressed just right made her coo and giggle in appreciation because they always hurt. How she could go from completely serious to joking and back again in an instant while keeping her ideals intact. A copy of her glasses prescription lay in his bedside table drawer, and a pair of back up glasses for when a drowsy Hanji would demand attention at one in the morning. Always one in the morning.

It occurred to him that later was now.

The little things normally got you farther than the big things. Paying attention got you places that sheer force could not.

Levi took note of the way her toes curled in the sheets, the deep wells they made in the fabric. The way she held her knees to her chest, forehead resting on them, jerking with every sob and hiccup. Her nails digging into her skin, the way her loose hair fell about her, a mess that he would have to fix. And she was a mess. It distressed him, seeing her like this, a curled up ball of despair for some God forsaken reason. A complete disaster.

So Levi fetched a pan of water and a rag. The first thing to do was loosen the forlorn Hanji up from her place in the bed. She offered no resistance, her knees falling away from her body to reveal red eyes, glowing with the ache of pity and guilt. Levi bit his lip, dipping the rag in the cold water to wipe away the tears staining her cheeks. She looked horrid. Beautiful all the same, but horrid.

"You look like shit."

She laughed a bit at that, sticking her neck out for the cool rag to run over her skin. He took note of the bruises and marks he had left the night before, counting them as he went along. A tinge of shame overtook him as he finished up. This was the aftermath he had wanted to avoid. A Hanji in this state took away any note of pleasure from this situation. Levi put the bowl underneath the bed, and went fishing in Hanji's untidy drawers for her brush and a rubber band. When he turned back around, she was already on the floor waiting for him to sit on the bed.

"Well? Aren't you going to ask me what happened? He told me you sent him to talk to me, Levi."

Levi ran the brush through her tangles a few times. Hanji picked at her shirt.

"Tell me then."

"He was rather heartbroken, really." Hanji rested her arms on Levi's legs. "Said he loved me. Said that he wanted to try and work something out between us and everything. But you know, the only reason I kissed him was because I knew. I knew he liked me, and I was drunk and I wanted to know how much. How much could this little kid actually like me? Kids are shallow, after all." She flinched at a particularly harsh knot. "But it wasn't nice of me, was it? Sober or drunk. I had to know. But drunk made me want to know more."

She twisted around, burying her face into his stomach, hair brush dangling from her knotted hair.

"And I kissed him just to see. God, I feel terrible. Then I slept with you, but I actually like you. I actually like you. And he didn't know. I told him after he blurted out the whole cheesy love confession like the little kid he is. But I already told you, didn't I?"

Levi picked the brush out of her hair. She clung onto him, not crying, but clinging on regardless. Placing his hand on her head, Levi stroked her hair, the panicked breaths slowly fading away as she regained control.

There was a thick silence surrounding them, a mutual agreement that neither of them wanted to break. But they had to.

"Hanji, he'll recover. And so will you."

She looked puzzled at the statement, as if it was impossible to think beyond the moment. She'd lost her perfect assistant to matters of the heart; he knew she had heard the rumors and nasty words from here as well. They didn't bother her, as far as he could tell but hurting Armin, a friend, was taking its toll on her. Levi hoisted Hanji up from her place on the floor, coaxing her up onto the bed. She crumpled into his arms, curling up into his chest without a sound.

"Oi, Hanji."

A grunt.

"You like me?"

Levi cringed at the nervous crack in his voice. It made her laugh, a low, muffled giggle that became a full on outburst of joyful laughter. Clutching her stomach in delight, she continued until Levi pushed her off the bed. Then came the playful cursing of a woman on the ground who pulled herself up, flushed with laughter.

"Of course I like you. God, you sound like a teenager, hah! Who knew Levi was such a ba-"

He punched her on the arm, sending her flying back onto the ground once again. Levi laid back down, staring at the ceiling. Her tears were replaced by laughter for now. No, it wasn't perfect. He and Hanji were nothing like a fairy tale, but they had something undeniable, something sweet. Something that even though he fumed at her, he allowed her to curl against him, to kiss his cheek, his lips. To remind him that love or whatever this was, could be delightful and simple, despite the fact that he would have to suffer as her lab assistant in place of the blond. But love was sweet.