Chapter Text
Erwin mediates without interfering. He gets both Mike and Nanaba to admit that they like each other, and then to explain in what ways they feel. It’s a little startling for her to realise how in sync they’ve been this whole time, how they’ve both been so afraid, so cautious, not wanting to hurt the other. When she feels Mike’s desire for privacy, she backs away and the conversation abruptly ends. Erwin doesn’t press.
She lets Mike walk her back home, the distance between their bodies slightly awkward with uncertainty from the half-finished conversation before, until she hooks her arm around his with an attempt at confidence, “We make a good pair.”
The surprised tsunami becomes a high tide of happiness, and Mike brings his free hand to cover hers where she’s looped around his arm.
“I think so, too.” Mike curls his fingers and then strokes them over hers, a shy movement that she welcomes by catching his fingertips on the next pass and trapping them between her own, so that they twine. She pours her blooming feelings of safety into the touch. “Thank you… for not making me talk about it all in front of Erwin. I know you wanted him to help.”
“He helped enough. The rest is up to us.” Nanaba leans her head down toward their hands and without hesitation kisses where they’re joined, feeling her stomach flip and flop when she hears a gasp. With her lips where she just kissed, she asks, “Mike. Will you stay tonight?”
His whole body tenses before she can feel the flush of fear, of embarrassment, and she pulls away at it, leeching it from his body entirely. For a moment, it seems that no matter how much of it that she takes from him, there is twice as much to replace it, but then it slowly begins to wane to the point that he can clear his throat.
“Nanaba, there are some things I have to be honest with you about.”
She squeezes the fingers twined with hers and interrupts when he pauses. She’s nervous to think about exposing this, about offering this vulnerability to him, but she can feel how much she needs to, how important it is to do this now. “I do, too, Mike.”
This time, the wave of surprise comes in slowly before it morphs into something like hopeful understanding, hopeful that they can share this together and find comfort in the knowledge that they might be similar. She listens to the patter their steps as they walk, taking delight in the way she can pick up finer details in the sound, details that she’s usually deaf to when she’s locked inside her head. The only emotions she can feel tonight are hers and Mike’s. The world exists around them, but it does not consume her. She sinks a little further into his side with a content sigh, a move that seems to dissipate both of their nervousness.
At her apartment, Mike steps in beside her with hesitation. They let one another go to remove their shoes.
“Tea?” Her voice warbles just the barest bit, and she swallows down the vibrato. “I have a really nice valerian blend that is pretty soothing.”
Mike smiles at her. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Nana replies. She gets down the tea set Levi gave her for her last birthday, a violet and gold pansy-themed pot with cups and saucers. It’s colouring is an inverted match to one of Levi’s sets, and it’s one of the nicest things she has to call her own. “Will you fill the kettle?”
Mike nods, joining her in the kitchen. She’s hyperaware of the sound his socked feet make on her tiles, something she’s not used to. This is what it’s like to have someone share a space with her, someone who doesn’t keep on their boots because she might need to be taught a lesson--
The errant thought makes her breath hitch, and she locks it away before it can fully form into something that births panic. With Mike here, the task is easier.
He is a warm sun against the icy side of a mountain, thawing dangerous terrain and making it hospitable. Beside her, he fills the kettle and sets it back in the cradle, clicking it on. The burbling seems to comfort them both while Nana prepares the tea until it’s time for her to pour in the hot water. There’s no table for them to sit at, so with the tea set between them, they sit on the counters and wait for the tea to steep.
“It smells… different this time,” Nana says to fill the space between them. Her hand braces on the edge, Mike’s own just a few centimeters away.
“That’s probably because of me,” Mike sheepishly supplies. “Even for a sentinel, I’ve got a keen sense of smell.” He looks down and there’s a grin on his face as he lowers his voice. “Can we try something?”
“Like what?”
“I know that when I’m with you, I start to feel what you feel. Do you get the same thing?” Mike looks up at her, meeting her eyes with his intense gaze. It silences her. All she can do is nod, breathless. Mike doesn’t look away as he slides down from the countertop and holds out his hand. “Trust me?”
She moves like a reflection of him, joining their bodies at the offered extremity. “Yeah,” she says, probably too quickly by social standards, but with Mike, she doesn’t have to worry about that. Lurking within both of them is an eagerness.
Stepping behind her, Mike takes her by the shoulders. Near her ear, he whispers, “Close your eyes.”
Nanaba obeys, and she can feel Mike’s grip falter for a second. If she’s emitting too strong a giddiness, she doesn’t even try to hide it. She wants him to feel it, and she thinks he must like what he feels, because his hands cup her shoulders in a squeeze before grasping her upper arms. This is without a doubt an intimate embrace, made even more wonderful by the lack of urgency she feels between them. This is touch for the sake of touch, nothing meant to coax up lust. She sinks into his hold with a hum.
“Take a sniff,” Mike murmurs, breath caught on consonants, but she hears him so clearly. Leaning down a little, Nana breathes in the warm steam coming from the teapot’s spout, and it’s like never before. She can smell every speck of the infusion, even down to the rich copper of earth that the valerian grew in. The tea is so sweet but the bitterness is just as strong, not unpleasant in any way, but… intense. Intense like Mike’s eyes when he meets hers. She takes another breath, trying to dissect every little bit of information. Beside her, Mike leans down over her shoulder, doing the same, and then in very, very quiet words, he explains to her what every little scent is.
When Mike lets her go, she opens her eyes and serves them tea with new appreciation.
After the first cup, Mike brings them back to their discussion with a cloud of insecure embarrassment that Nana wades through to get to him. Looking down at his feet, he explains his asexuality to her in a way that tells her exactly how many times he’s faced rejection for it. As he speaks, Nana moves into him, lifting his arms and tucking them around herself like a child with a security blanket. When he finishes speaking, she presses a kiss over his heart.
“You’re perfect for me, Mike.” Nana looks up, craning her neck and resting her chin against his breastbone. He meets her look of wonder with his own, and then she tells him everything.