Chapter Text
Reiner never knew Galliard was into astrology. He spoke of Taurus Major and the constellation of—or maybe it was astronomy. One of those two. Regardless, he shared his inspiring visions for the future.
“It’s gonna change the world,” Galliard said, staring off into space as the smoke cloud dissipated.
“Szechuan-style crab cakes is an amazing idea,” Reiner said, placing his feet on the table and enjoying the fuzzy feeling engulfing his body. “I’d eat that right now.”
And he hated crab.
He perked up. “There’s a Target nearby. Why not go get the ingredients right now? I’ll make them tonight in a huge batch. It’s only…” He looked at his watch. “Eight.” He stood up.
He stood as well. “Yeah, yeah that’s a great idea! Let’s go through the side gate so no one will know we’re gone and when we get back with all this stuff it’ll—”
“Be a surprise. Yes, yes.” He started toward the side gate and Reiner followed.
“Better this way anyway, we’re way too stoned to drive.”
He snorted. “I’m hardly stoned at all.”
They reached the sidewalk and turned left down the neighborhood street. “Dude, your eyes are so red, are you kidding me?”
“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to remember the ingredients I need.”
They reached the Target after three and a half blocks. Reiner grabbed Galliard’s arm before they stepped foot on the parking lot's concrete.
Galliard stopped. “What the hell? What?”
“We need to be careful,” Reiner answered, scanning the numerous patrons coming and going. “With our luck, Levi, Hanji, and or Erwin will probably be here.”
He nodded knowingly. “And you’re so stoned you’d get in some deep shit.”
“Oh fuck, look!” He pointed at a svelte blonde woman getting out of her SUV. “Sorry, thought that was Erwin for a sec."
"Chill, man."
He shook his foggy head as he and Galliard started for the entrance. "Hey, you ever noticed how blue Erwin's eyes are though? Like Lake Maria.”
“I’d so go gay for Erwin.”
“Me too.”
“You’re already gay.”
“Oh, right.”
The colorfully-stocked aisles leapt out at Reiner once they crossed the automatic doors. His mouth watered. Canned ravioli? Yes. Boxed mac and cheese? Yes. Jumbo Twizzler’s bag? Hell yes! He wondered if this was what it was like to be Sasha. Or Bertholdt.
Bertholdt! He should get him something.
“What should I get Bertholdt?” Reiner asked as they traversed the grocery aisles.
Galliard adjusted the already half-full red hand basket. “A houseplant. He's gotta start somewhere.”
He sighed. “No, like a snack. But symbolic in some way that he’ll go ‘awww, that reminds me of the time we…’” Galliard chucked a can of black olives in the basket. “What’s that for?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Oh! A Butterfinger.” He grabbed a king-sized candy bar from an end display. “We had Butterfingers the day after we met.”
“Heh. ‘Bertlfinger.’”
He laughed. “‘Buttertholdt.’” They strolled to the cheese section and both gazed at the selection in awe.
Galliard stroked a round package of Stilton. “Damn. Just damn.”
Finally, they made it to the checkout counter. The clerk eyed with a them an amused smile as she rang them up. He didn't think their state was that obvious, but his fascination with her vest's Target logo was likely hard to miss. Galliard paid much to Reiner’s delight as he was allowed his parent’s credit card for small charges. Marcel was the one not allowed. The first time he used their card he impulse bought a giant teddy bear for $50 (“But it was marked down from $85!”).
Once outside, Galliard sat down on the storefront’s curb and rummaged through one of the bags.
“What are you doing?” Reiner asked.
“I can’t wait,” he replied, pulling out a deli sandwich and unwrapping it. “I have to—” He bit into it. “Oh, fuck me.” Reiner shrugged and joined him on the curb. “I have to put a sandwich just like this on my menu. Pastrami, tomato. And this thousand island dressing? More like million island.”
He stretched out his legs. “Oh yeah, the whole four-star chef thing.”
“Mm-hm.” He held his hand out. “Picture it: I’m a chef with my own cooking show, and Pieck is a genius prize-winning engineer. You’re a fireman. You save puppies and babies from burning buildings. Meanwhile Bertholdt alters the DNA of plants and comes home with green stains on his sweater.”
“Uh, he was pretty adamant against that idea.”
“His bad choices then.”
Reiner stared at the night sky. Though unable to see the stars through the light pollution, he pictured Taurus Major and imagined his future. Bertholdt would be great at something in the liberal arts. And hell, even botany too. But regardless of what he chose, Reiner wanted to be beside him. He knew that long before he’d fallen in love with him. Being with Bertholdt, his always gentle—
“I could kill you!” Bertholdt exclaimed, hustling across the parking lot with Pieck.
Galliard grinned. “Ah, Pieck-a-boo!”
Reiner's head swam. “Whoa, how’d you find us?”
“Just by walking around,” Bertholdt said as they caught up. “You scared us to death! You’ve been gone for almost an hour. You both left your phones at home.”
“God, I’m sorry. I guess we kinda lost track of time.” He placed his hands over his pockets—no phone. ”And our phones...”
Pieck sat down beside Galliard and gave him a tap on the cheek. “Bad.” She narrowed her eyes as his. “Oh, they’re high.”
Bertholdt blinked. “Oh. Oh.”
“Wait, an hour?” Galliard questioned through a mouthful, then looked at his watch. “It’s almost nine. We’ve been in there that long?” he asked Reiner.
“Thought it was like… twenty minutes at the most.”
Bertholdt sat next to Reiner. “Wow, your eyes are bloodshot. You were walking around like that?”
“Guess so.”
He eyed the paper bags, his tense features softening. “You must've gotten the munchies.”
“I was gonna make crab cakes,” Galliard said, then threw his head back. “Oh fuck! I forgot about crab cake ingredients.”
Reiner slumped. “We forgot to get what we came here for?”
“Meh, it's fine. I have stuff for and jalapeno poppers and tiramisu.”
“Well,” Pieck began, standing and pulling him up by his hand, “we’re leaving tomorrow so you should get that done tonight. Make this excursion worth it.”
Reiner and Bertholdt rose to their feet too. Reiner, Bertholdt, and Pieck each took a paper bag while Galliard continued his sandwich.
Reiner tentatively reached for Bertholdt’s hand with his free one. “I know you’re mad at me but…”
Bertholdt half-smiled and accepted his hand. “I’m not mad... anymore. Just don’t do it again. It wasn’t like you."
"Promise."
"Eh, but I’m one to talk. Your stoned is much better than my drunk.”
“Very true.”
They strolled down the sidewalk and Reiner’s mouth watered thinking about the Doritos in the bag. Could one use Dorito crumbs as breading to fry jalapeno poppers in? He sighed internally. He would need to hit the gym when he got home. So many simple fats threw his body out of whack.
Arriving at Zeke's house, they went inside and Zeke stood in the living room with crossed arms. “I told Billy not to give out any green,” he said.
“Zeke,” Galliard began with a grin, taking Pieck's bag to the kitchen, “don’t worry. I am going make a feast to make up for it.”
“Of course you are.” He looked behind him and shouted, “They’re back!”
Reiner went through the paper sacks and pulled out the candy bar. “Hey Butter, I got you a Bertlfinger.”
Bertholdt cracked up. “Thanks, I love Bertlfingers.”
“I mean a—just take it.”
***
“Jalapeno poppers rolled in Dorito crumbs are the best thing to ever happen,” Reiner said, sprawled out on the futon at bedtime. “I’m so full… Too full.”
“You ate more than I did,” Bertholdt said, sitting against the pillows and flipping through his ghost book.
“I don’t know how you do it.” He shimmied over and lay his head on Bertholdt’s stomach. “Nice pillow.” He listened to the whir of the central air and hummed. “I’m gonna miss being your bunkmate.”
“Yeah. It’s been a lot of fun. It’ll feel weird having so much space to myself again.” He set his book on the end table and trailed his fingers through Reiner’s hair.
He shuddered from the feel of the caress. “Yeah, and I don’t think they sell six-four body pillows that twist into pretzels overnight to fill in for you.”
“Hm, I could replace you. Find a two-hundred pound boulder and put it on my bed.”
Reiner laughed and Bertholdt’s stomach vibrated against his cheek from his own laughter. He really would miss this. Being able to decompress each day alongside Bertholdt. The throaty notes of his voice and tickles from his touch easing him into a deep slumber.
Reiner placed a hand on Bertholdt's knee. “Hey, I never got a chance to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Coming to rescue me earlier.”
“I just walked to the store.”
“Yeah, but for all you knew Galliard talked me into running into a burning building to test drive the fireman thing. You’d probably had to have carried me out. So thanks. For walking to the store.”
“You're welcome.”
“So what do you think of the fireman thing? You said it’d make you anxious, but beyond that?”
He shifted. “It’s your decision, and you have years to decide.”
“Bertl.”
“I think you’d be good at it.”
Still a non-answer, but he figured he ought not to press him. "Actually... I have more to thank you for. Like standing up for me to my mom.”
His hand stopped its caress. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Maybe not, but I was lying when I said her not calling didn’t bother me. And you knew that.”
“Who wouldn’t it bother? But... you’re welcome.” His fingertips rubbed circles onto the nape of his neck.
Warmth bloomed through Reiner’s chest and he rolled on his side to look at him. “Thanks for all of it. You always come to save me like a prince.”
His eyebrows raised. “A prince?”
“Prince charming.”
“Oh.”
Reiner inched up and planted both hands on either side of Bertholdt’s shoulders. Their faces mere inches apart. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Reiner.”
They kissed, soft and filling Reiner’s stomach with butterflies. Bertholdt’s hands ran up and down Reiner’s back and he slipped his tongue in his mouth. Unexpected, but Reiner reciprocated, tasting his cinnamon toothpaste. Why he always used such a terrible flavor was beyond him, but he certainly wasn’t complaining now.
“You french better when you’re sober,” Reiner said against his lips.
“Hush.” He kissed him again with more depth and stroked his back.
He was about to suggest exchanging more hickeys when Bertholdt traced the exposed skin of his lower back. Reiner’s eyes flew open.
What’s he doing?
The hand was too warm and too welcome for Reiner to protest, so he ran his own down Bertholdt’s chest. Bertholdt nudged the shirt to his mid back and continued his exploration. Reiner rolled on his side and they lay beside each other before resuming a passionate kiss. His tastebuds flared at the continued dose of cinnamon Bertholdt's tongue offered.
This was getting heavy. Zeke would no doubt appear at any moment puffing an e-cig. But Reiner decided if they kept it below a certain level it’d be easy to resume an innocent position if interrupted.
Bertholdt broke the kiss and slid his hands to Reiner’s toned stomach. The blond's eyes grew wide as watched him methodically trace each plane. His gaze then flitted up, curious to see Bertholdt’s face as he did this. The brunet's saliva-slick lips were parted and—once again—his cheeks were visibly red even in the dim light.
Reiner was growing a tad hard. How could he not? Bertholdt had never touched him like that before. Familiar hands entering uncharted territory.
Bertholdt’s mouth formed a boyish smile as his long index finger ran across his rib. “This is… something.”
Reiner forced a bated breath through his mouth. “You should see what I have going on up higher.” He waggled his eyebrows
His hands traveled to his chest and Reiner gnashed his teeth. “Your body’s incredible.”
It was his turn to blush. Bertholdt had never said something like that to him (apart from the drunken incident).
“Thank you.” He cringed inside. Stupid thing to say to something like that but his brain short circuited. “Can I?” Reiner touched the end of Bertholdt’s shirt. He nodded and Reiner ran his hands across his stomach too, skin twitching under his fingers. He recalled Bertholdt’s mild ticklishness from childhood. One of the few playful things Annie ever did was surprise (slash torment) Bertholdt by tickling his sides.
Reiner stifled a whine when Bertholdt's fingers grazed his pecks. His palms moved across them before giving a gentle squeeze.
The way Bertholdt gawked at that waitress's cleavage, his years-long fascination with Petra’s chest, and now…
Fond of the human bosom, huh?
He started to say something, but wanted to retain the moment. He would tease him about it some other time.
This looked good, their arms tangled around each other exploring their bodies. Reiner’s hand again rested over Bertholdt's pounding heart. He kept it there, watching his face in the dim light. Wondering if he was half hard too. God did he want to find out.
Bertholdt's hands drifted away before pulling Reiner’s shirt down and pecking his lips. Yeah. This had to end. He breathed out a long breath through his lips, trying to will his hardness down. He had imagined sex with Bertholdt countless times, in countless ways, positions, and locations. But Zeke’s living room was not one of those locations.
Reiner put Bertholdt’s shirt back too. “That’s some good stuff.”
“Mm-hm.”
His head settled on the pillow and they gazed at each other, Reiner spreading Bertholdt’s bangs across his forehead, then back again.
“What’s second base between two guys?” Bertholdt asked.
“Beats me. That was probably it though.”
The telltale creak of Zeke’s door sounded followed by his heavy footsteps. Reiner and Bertholdt shut their eyes and pulled the covers to their shoulders.
“Why are you still awake?” Zeke asked.
Damnit.
Before either could answer, Zeke pulled the blankets down to their waists. “You look decent, but your deer in the headlights expressions say otherwise.” He tossed the cover back over them. “If you get come stains on my futon I’m telling your parents about every single thing you did this week.”
Bertholdt grimaced and Reiner said, “This isn’t exactly the most romantic place.”
“Really? I’ve bedded many women here.”
“I meant here here. On your futon with a hundred other people in the house who could walk in at any moment.”
“I know, I’ve bedded many women on that same futon.”
Bertholdt's grimaced deepened and Reiner’s erection was effectively a thing of the past.
“Why would—” you do it on the futon when you have your own bed? He didn’t want to know.
“Like... groupies?” Bertholdt asked.
"He means to say goodnight," Reiner cut in.
Bertholdt nodded. "Y—yeah, I did mean that."
"Goodnight then," Zeke said, pulling an e-cig from his pocket. He moved to the front window and lit it up, puffing it as he stared outside.
Reiner wouldn't be able to sleep with Zeke's intense presence and the tacky tropical-scented vapor. Though he had an excuse to bury his nose against Bertholdt's nightshirt and breathe in his scent for a while longer.