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Chapter Text

Armin Arlert lived beside the ocean- a dream come true, or so it would seem. But while it was certainly true that the blue-eyed boy dreamt of living his life beside the ocean, this dream of his did not include painting houses and washing windows for a living.

College students have always done whatever it takes to keep food on the table, though. And the added indignity of doing menial labor for the rich was a very small price to pay for the proximity to his great love in life, the ocean.

"Wow...! What a view...!"

The young blonde was, as per usual, suspended high above the pale-sanded beach by two thin cables; he was engaged, of course, in repainting one beach-side house for the third time that week, as the lady of the house had decided that she did favor coral pink over sunset orange after all. And Armin certainly wasn't complaining- indecisive housewives were a huge factor in his income. He would also never turn down any job that involved climbing to such a height, for his ramshackle hut certainly didn't allow for such breathtaking views of his beloved ocean.

Dipping his brush into the paint bucket that hung at his hip, Armin took his time with his strokes, gazing out at the turquoise waves. As he watched, a long yacht appeared from around the curve of the beach, and he paused to examine the three figures lounging on the bough. He identified two relatively easily: the broad-shouldered Reiner Braun, son of a wealthy oil merchant, and the tall, lanky Bertholdt Hoover, also from a monied family. Armin hadn't the slightest clue where the later's money came from; even gossip had its limits. The two were almost always together, either fast friends or socially beneficial, utilitarian companions.

But the third figure was new to the blue-eyed boy, and he couldn't help but stare far longer than he probably should have. She was lying on her stomach on a folding chair near the very tip of the boat, graceful legs kicked up over her back and nose buried in some glossy magazine. Clad in only a pale blue bikini, with her short golden hair tied up in a neat bun, she seemed the image of a pampered goddess. Although shorter than most and not as thin as some, she was undoubtedly beautiful- a vision, even among the sleek and tanned bodies that abounded on such a privileged stretch of beach. Armin felt his heart thump erratically, his feet slipping from the wall until he was hanging, suspended by those two thin cables, as he stared out at the trio on the yacht.

As the young student continued to watch, Bertholdt peeled himself away from where he was leaning against the railing; walked over to where the girl lay. He sat down at the edge of her chair; reached up with one hand and fingered her upper back, working his way up until he was massaging the nape of her neck with one large hand. The girl's head dropped in response, allowing him better access. Armin felt neither surprise nor distress as he watched; such a scene was the most natural thing in the world. He felt no shame, either, as he remained riveted, watching Bertholdt lean down and kiss her shoulder; kiss his way up her neck and jawline, as she adjusted to accept his affections.

Armin would have continued to watch had his phone not buzzed; jumping, he wiped his paint-smeared hands on his jeans hastily and pulled the device from his pocket.

"Study session 2nite?" the text read, and just then the phone vibrated with a follow up. "Totally lost w this l8est chap. Halp?"

Sighing good-naturedly, Armin tapped out a hasty reply. "Sure. Meet you at the library at 6?"

"Sure," came the reply. "C u then."

Sighing again, Armin replaced the phone in his pocket, returning his attention to his painting. He would have to work fast, then, to finish in time.

And he thought no more of the yacht and its passengers, at least not beyond the vague idea that the neighborhood women might pay good money for the choice bit of gossip.

... ... ...

"Let's stop for takeout first!"

"Eren..."

"Please? We won't be able to focus if we're hungry!"

"I'm not hungry, Eren."

"... Please?"

Sighing, Armin threw up his hands in defeat. Grinning with triumph, Eren Jaeger flooded the gas pedal of his beat-up Ford, although the tires protested far louder than Armin had. The blonde, used to such things, simply hung on to the battered seat, as the seat belts in the old car had long ago given up the ghost.

It should have taken much longer to reach the Chinese resultant than it did, but Eren managed the drive within five minutes. He forgot to turn off the radio as he pulled up to the speaker; Armin switched the hardcore noise off as he called out their usual order. Then they were speeding toward the library, Eren with an eggroll already in his mouth. In any other town, the brunette would have been behind bars by that time; the lazy coastal town, however, couldn't be bothered with such trivial things as enforcing traffic laws. Once they had skidded into a parking space, Eren hopped out with boxes of Chinese food in tow.

"Is Mikasa meeting us?" Armin asked curiously; his friend shook his head.

"Nah, she has a chem study group tonight. Fuck am I glad I didn't take that class!" The brunette shuddered visibly, and Armin rolled his eyes.

"Perish the thought."

The two made their way into the library, an impressive building for such a small town. Once settled in one of the soundproof study rooms, Eren began spreading out the various styrofoam containers of noodles and rice and egg rolls.

"Is this a study session or a picnic?" Armin asked, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"Both," Eren answered cheerfully, picking up a pair of chopsticks and diving into the chow-mien enthusiastically.

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not pulling out my notes just so you can get soy sauce all over them."

"Then we'll just have to eat first, won't we?" Eren asked triumphantly, with his mouth full. Armin shook his head ruefully, wondering if they would manage to get half an hour of solid studying in. Armin didn't necessarily need to study, but he knew that Eren most certainly did.

"I'm going to go see of they have our algebra on the shelf."

"We can look up that shit online!" Eren said immediately, pulling out a laptop that was nearly as battered as his tuck. Armin sighed.

"Sometimes, Eren, books are still better than Google," he said, mildly annoyed. He couldn't help a snort of amusement as he left, though, catching sight of Eren's surprised expression as a whole bundle of noodles slipped off his chopsticks and onto his abused computer. Then Armin had closed the door behind him, sighed, and set off to find the mathematics section.

It wasn't long, however, before the blonde had gotten quite sidetracked, waylaid in the history section and buried in a particularly interesting volume. He was banking primarily on the fact that Eren wouldn't come looking for him until the takeout was gone, which meant he had a solid half hour or so to browse the shelves undisturbed. The library, at such an hour, was largely deserted, and so he allowed himself to sit cross-legged on the floor and subsequently lose himself in accounts of long ago wars. He might have been content to sit there until he had read the history text through, cover to cover, had a voice not broken his concentration.

"Excuse me."

Armin glanced up, hazy-eyed with historical visions and surprised to find himself faced with another present-day human being.

"Do you know where the philosophy section is?" the young girl continued, her voice polite but quite commanding. She was small and sturdily built; although obviously shapely as well, she didn't dress in a way that showed it off. She wore a navy blue pencil skirt and loose-fitting blazer over a white collared shirt, her pale blonde hair done up in a neat bun, although her bangs hung in her face. Her eyes were deep and contemplative; mysterious, mesmerizing.

Armin blinked; got dazedly to his feet. "Um... yes, yes I do!" he exclaimed, history text forgotten at his feet. "I-I'll show you!"

The girl looked uncertain for a moment, but then nodded. Armin, unsure of why his heart was behaving as if he had just raced the whole length of his beloved beach, beckoned and lead the way. Weaving through the familiar shelves, he listened to the girl's light footsteps; the tap of her small heals on the tile.

"Here we are," he announced after a moment, running his hand fondly along the row of philosophy volumes and turning. The girl's eyes were bright, eager, and she reached out immediately to pull out a book by Sophocles. Armin, despite himself, cocked his head at her choice. Seeing his curious look, she inclined her head.

"Thank you. I can find my way around now."

"You... like Sophocles?" Armin didn't want to leave yet; he wanted to speak to this beautiful, intriguing young woman. The girl's eyebrows rose a fraction, but she nodded.

"I prefer Greek philosophers. We... seem to agree on many things."

"The Greeks favored predetermination over the theory of free will," Armin pointed out, and the girl nodded.

"Yes- I do, as well."

"Then you think it was fate that we met," the boy said with a chuckle, and then sobered. "S-sorry."

But the girl was smiling, her cheeks dusted with a light pink. "No..." she said slowly, "that was... good. You're... cute."

Then it was Armin's turn to blush, far more deeply than the girl had. "B-but..." he hurried to swing the conversation in a different direction. "I-I believe that we make our own destiny. The Greeks were rather fatalistic, I think."

"Life is fatalistic," the girl countered, and Armin nodded in gracious acknowledgment.

"Death is a predetermined certainty," he conceded, "but how you reach that end is entirely up to you. Whether you're a good person or a bad person during your life... those you choose to know and those you choose to dismiss..."

The girl cocked her head. "'Who you choose... to know,'" she echoed thoughtfully, and slowly set down the book she held. "Perhaps... it's simply me trying to fight against my fate... but my name is Annie." She held out her hand.

"I'm Armin," the boy introduced himself, lifting her hand and brushing his lips against its back. "Armin Arlert."

For some reason, although she looked as though she might like to, Annie didn't jerk her hand away. "A pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine," Armin said earnestly, his cheeks flaming as he took a slight step back. "It isn’t every day I meet someone I can have an intelligent philosophical debate with, let alone someone so beautiful."

Annie gave him an indulgent smile. "You have a silver tongue, Armin Arlert."

Instead of being insulted, Armin smiled. "Such things come in handy."

"I see you're not a character I can trust," Annie said, although her tone was playful; the boy chuckled.

"I see you're not a character I should try to pull anything over on."

The two met one another's gaze for a moment; Armin, having never been in such a situation before, wondered what the next step in the conversation might be. As it was, however, the girl's phone vibrated, and she pulled it half out of her pocket to read the text. Her face fell visibly.

"I have enjoyed our little chat, Armin," she said, "but I've got to go. My friend is in conniptions because he can't find me. Thank you for the time and talk, but I'd best go."

"W-wait!" the boy called, as she turned to leave. "Could I... I mean, perhaps..."

Annie softened, although her eyes were troubled as she fished a pen from her pocket. "I'm only tempting the fates..." she murmured, then took Armin's hand and wrote ten neat digits on his skin. "There. I'll talk to you again, then."

Nodding, dazed and a bit grateful, Armin waved with his marked hand as the girl trotted away down the aisle. The boy, unable to do anything else, slumped down into a sitting position and gazed after her, a sigh escaping him. And he was still there by the time Eren, whining about algebra homework, found him. And when the brunette tried to pull his friend up by one hand, he proceeded to bombard him with questions about the phone number written on his hand in pink magic marker.

Chapter Text

"Good morning, Indeterminist."

Armin scrambled half out of his bed when he was woken by the text, groping for his phone on the bedside table and staring at it for a moment. So the girl- and the few brief texts they had exchanged the night before, confirming that she had found her panicking friend -hadn't been a dream. After another moment, he tapped out a hesitant response.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

"I had fatalistic dreams. It got me itching to fight destiny, so I decided to text you."

"A true determinist would view such fighting of fate as futile," he pointed out.

"I do. :P," was the reply.

Laughing lightly, Armin flipped onto his back. "Then why try?" he typed back.

"Because I don't think Fate wants me to get to know you, but I'd very much like to."

Armin blushed, sitting up sharply; his hair was sticking out in all imaginable directions, although he didn't bother to notice. "You do?"

"Haha. Yes, I'd very much like to."

"Diner tonight?" He didn't stop to think how he'd pay for a halfway decent restaurant.

"I can't," came the response. "Sadly, I'm not that bold about fighting my destiny. It might cause trouble for people I care about, as well."

Armin's eyebrows knit- a bit disappointed and more than a bit confused, he typed back, "?" then added hastily, "I'm not upset, of course, just confused."

"I'd like to, really," was her reply. "Trust me. If I didn't, I'd simply say as much. I wouldn't bother rejecting you in such a roundabout way."

"I know," Armin answered. "You don't seem to be that type. But I am honestly curious." 'And concerned about you,' he added silently, although decided that that would be a bit out of line.

"Unfortunately, I'm under the strictest of confidences," she replied.

Armin let his hands- and phone -drop into his lap for a moment, pondering this mysterious creature he had found himself conversing with over text. Lifting the phone again, he typed, "A light brunch, then?"

"Haha, I wish you wouldn't be so persistent. It's only getting harder to say no."

"At least a cup of coffee, then?"

"Armin, no." At first, it seemed like she might be upset... at least until her follow up-text came through. "Well, perhaps if we run into one another again."

"That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?" Armin was smiling.

"It's more than I though I'd give you."

"I'll be grateful, then."

"You should."

His smile widening impossibly, Armin rose and went to his small bathroom, tending to his morning grooming and belatedly horrified by the state his hair was in. He didn't have any classes that day, so he gulped down a bowl of cereal and slung on his tool-belt. He had a job over at the Braun house, washing the windows and cleaning the roofs. He saw their boy, Reiner, on campus from time to time, and exchanged greetings each time; such simple pleasantries that earned him better-than-average tips at the Braun house. Hopping down his rickety front porch steps, he was in a cheerful enough mood to have a spring in his step as he made his way down the stretch of beach that separated his little hut from the Braun's mansion.

Reiner himself opened the door when Armin knocked; smiling cheerily, the small blonde bowed.

"Good morning! I'm here about the bimonthly window washing and monthly roof-wash," he said, and Reiner nodded.

"Of course. I'll tell my folks you're here. You can get started, then."

"Alright. Thank you!"

The door closed again on oiled hinges, and Armin tried not to balk at the indignity and unfairness of it all. Reiner Braun didn't have to worry about tuition or about rent; he took classes for the sheer fun of it, not to any end or for the sake of a goal. Armin tried not to resent him the ease with which he lived his comfortable life.

Thirty feet off the ground, Armin found it harder to begrudge anyone anything. As menial and unglamorous as his work was, it was a means to an end... and there were far worse ways to make a living. So he scrubbed away at each window pane, his cheer from the early morning retuning as the hours began to tick by.

And then, his phone vibrated.

"What are you doing right now?"

Letting himself hang in open air, Armin tapped out, "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"Washing a window thirty feet off the ground."

"Wow. How's the view?"

Armin laughed aloud. "Breathtaking."

"Oi, Armin!" It was Reiner's voice.

Tucking his phone away again, Armin looked down. "Yes?"

"We've got a fresh pot of coffee down here if you want to take a break!"

That made the smile brought to his face by the texts widen impossibly, and Armin dropped down quicker than was probably safe; he felt comfortable enough with his gear, though, and landed neatly on the sandy turf.

"That would be great! Thank you!"

The broad-shouldered boy nodded, his expression subdued but friendly. Armin padded after him as he lead the way to the little porch, and was surprised to find two other boys waiting.

"Jean! Marco! It's been a while," he greeted them.

"Hope you don't mind," Reiner told his high-class friends. "Kid's been washing our windows all morning, so I figured he deserved a break."

"Of course we don't mind," Marco said warmly, motioning for the student to sit beside him. Jean grunted, but didn't contradict his best friend.

"Thank you, Marco," Armin said graciously; the Bodt family employed him for landscaping and indoor housekeeping on a regular basis, and he knew that the freckled boy was genuinely kind. They had been putting up Jean, a French exchange student from a prominent family, for nearly five years come that October. Although the foreign boy was considerably more entitled and borderline rude most of the time, the fact that Marco was his best friend meant that he had to have a decent heart, underneath it all.

"So what's up with that chick I saw Bertl with the other day?" Jean asked, once the coffee had been poured. Armin knew from experience that he was invisible at such a table, and sipped his coffee docilely as he perked his ears.

"That's his childhood sweetheart, wouldja believe it?" Reiner asked. "After all this time, he finally managed to track her down. They were apparently one of those cutesy kid couples who promised they'd marry each other when they grew up, and then exchanged plastic rings. Bertl still has the one she gave him up on his dresser."

"That's so romantic...!" Marco sighed, nearly spilling his coffee. "Don't you think, Jean?"

"Sounds pretty cheesy to me," the brunette scoffed, and then conceded, "but yeah, yeah, real romantic..."

"So they're going out for real now?" Marco asked; Reiner nodded.

"They're the cutest thing," he said fondly. "Bertl can't keep his hands off her- always stroking her hair or rubbing her back or kissing her neck. They're like five year olds flirting in the schoolyard. And they're more than going out- they're engaged."

Marco sighed, and even Jean's eyes softened. Reiner groped for his phone.

"Bertl really isn't sparing any expense, either," he informed his friends. "Check out the ring he bought her."

Jean whistled lowly. "Check out that rock!" he exclaimed, and the looked over at Marco. "Man! I want one! Marco, buy me one!"

Marco laughed good-naturedly, punching his friend in the shoulder. Armin leaned in to sneak a look at Reiner's phone, taking in the picture of a slender hand adorned with a stunning engagement ring, accompanied by the excited text, "She said yes! Reiner, she said yes!"

"Invite us to the wedding, bro," Jean said, sitting back. "You do think it'll last, yeah?"

"Oh, they're in love," Reiner assured his friends. "I've never seen two people so in love. If they don't last, no couple in the world will."

Well, that certainly explains the blonde from yesterday... Armin thought, taking a swig of his coffee. His phone vibrated, and he looked down at it discreetly.

"Still up in the clouds?" It was Annie.

"No," he tapped back. "Listening to juicy gossip. Relationship gossip."

"Relationship gossip is the best kind."

"Agreed."

... ... ...

After finishing his work at Reiner's house, Armin was duly hungry and weary. So he trotted back home down the beach, taking a moment to appreciate the waves as they lapped at the coast, then fixed himself a sandwich and took it up to his patchy roof to enjoy. Gazing down the beach first one way and then the other, he spotted three figures in the distance- a broad shouldered boy, a tall, lean boy, and a small girl in a flowing blue sundress.

Reiner, Bertholt... and Bertholdt's fiancé...

The girl was dancing in and out of the waves, every motion of her body speaking of cheer and love of life. Her shoulder-length hair swished as she moved and twirled, and she spun dizzyingly into Bertholdt's waiting arms. Reiner walked a bit farther up the beach, keeping pace with the pair but well clear of the tides.

Armin felt no guilt about watching such a scene; he saw many things he arguably shouldn't have, and the beach's inhabitants were nearly as fascinating as his beloved ocean itself. He took another bite of his sandwich, dreaming idly of a time, after he graduated, when he could truly live amongst such people as an equal instead of a servant. A financial equal, at least, he added wryly. I'm already their intellectual superior... the happy fools...

The trio farther down the beach had sat down, and the girl cuddled into Bertholdt's side as Reiner spread out a picnic blanket. Armin switched his attention between the trio on their romantic outing and the ocean as he continued to munch his sandwich, enjoying the salty breeze and deciding that, regardless of his eventual plans and dreams, he would be content to stay there forever.

And then his phone vibrated.

"What are you doing?"

"Just eating lunch. Enjoying the fresh sea air."

"Oh? I'm eating lunch, too."

"Any good?"

"A bit fancy for me. :P"

"Well, mine is a turkey sandwich, so that's not really a problem for me. I was even out of cheese, haha."

"Lol, poor you."

"I certainly can't complain about it being 'too fancy.'" Armin smiled as he sent the text, glancing over at the picnicking trio and wondered idly what they were lunching on.

"I wish I'd taken you up on your offer for brunch."

Armin blushed as the message buzzed into his phone, although he managed to reply, "The offer is always open."

"Haha, if only I could."

Unsure of how to answer, Armin set his phone down and took another bite of his sandwich. Then he gazed out at the ocean, pondering the girl named Annie for a moment before picking up his phone again.

"Fate is your servant, not the other way around."

There was a long pause before the girl replied; Armin waited nervously, wondering if he had overstepped a boundary. But when the reply came, he was surprised by it. As he read it over once, then twice, he heard the distant sound of Bertholdt's fiance's cheerful laughter carried to him by the wind.

"If it were only me involved, I might be inclined to fight it. But as it is, I'm content to be one of those weak humans brings who is swept along with the flow of Fate, if only for the sake of those I care about."

Chapter Text

Life continued as it had for Armin Arlert- school, work, and study groups with Eren. However, he exchanged texts with Annie on a daily basis, and it was rare that they woke or went to sleep without exchanging "good nights" and "good mornings." More often than not, Armin was woken by Annie's morning greeting. Their conversations ran the gamut- from politics to science to philosophy. However they stayed strangely, perhaps instinctually, clear of personal matters, never probing deeper than the everyday activities that one another were engaged in at a given moment.

The other addition to Armin's beachside life was Bertholdt's fiancé- one Ms. Leonheart. It was rare for a day to go by when he didn't catch a distant glimpse of her, lounging on the deck of one of the Hoovers' many boats or dancing along the beach, always with Bertholdt at her side. Most of the time Reiner was present as well, but occasionally the two lovebirds would venture out with only one another for company, sitting on the cliffs overlooking the ocean or taking a leisurely outing aboard a sailboat. They were all anyone gossiped about anymore, although Armin was understandably bored with the whole thing by the hundredth time someone asked him how much he thought that gaudy engagement ring had cost Bertholdt Hoover's parents.

"Good morning."

Armin yawned, stretched, and tapped, "'Morning, Annie," without opening his eyes. Then he smiled, touched the screen of his phone lovingly, and rose to get ready for his day. He wondered idly, as he brushed his teeth, if it was to be the day he finally managed a up-close look at Bertholdt's fiancé, as the Hoovers had hired him for a total repaint of their four-story mansion. It would probably pay a good chunk of his tuition for the semester, he reflected cheerfully, as he downed a bowl of cereal and pulled on his tool belt. It had better... he thought, with a slight grimace. I'm ditching my physics lecture because the Hoovers simply had to have their house painted today.

Hurrying out the door, he felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out; he had become impressively adept at texting while trotting down the sandy beach.

"Lazy day today. So bored."

"Trade you, haha. I have an insanely long work day today."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Money is a very necessary commodity."

"Haha, true. Best of luck."

"Thanks. Enjoy your boredom."

"Ha. Ha."

Smiling, Armin tucked his phone away; it never left his pocket, not since that night at the library. When it vibrated again, he was duly surprised.

"What up?" It was from Eren.

"On my way to paint the Hoovers' house."

"Sounds like a boatload of fun," Eren replied.

"Ikr? Well, it pays the bills."

"Too true. Say, try to get naked pix of that chick everyone's been talking about??"

Armin briefly considered throwing his phone into the ocean.

"Some of the guys and I'll pool our cash," Eren pressed. "Bet we could pay ya a couple hundred."

"Go jerk off to some internet porn if you're that horny. Leave me out of it," Armin typed back, and then shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"God, why am I friends with that moron?" he groaned aloud, and then picked up his pace until he was fairly jogging along the coast. The Hoovers' estate loomed up in front of him within minutes, and he slowed as he came to the grand, carved doorway.

"O-oh, Armin...!" It was Bertholdt who answered, looking as flustered as always. Armin felt his phone buzz, but dismissed it as Eren being obnoxious again. "Yes... h-hi! Y-you're going to paint the house, right?"

"Yep!" he replied cheerfully. "Any preference as to where I start?"

"N-no.." the lanky boy said, with a nervous glance behind him. "N-no, start wh-wherever you think is best... y-you're the expert, n-not me."

Armin tried not to take offense at being regarded as the resident expert on painting houses. "Alright. It should take me a good seven or eight hours, alright?"

"F-fine..." Bertholdt murmured, then gave him a brisk nod and ducked back inside. Armin stared at the door for another moment, then shrugged and turned.

His phone buzzed again.

"Jeez, Eren..." he muttered. "Stop...!" Trying to shove his friend from his mind, he made some quick mental calculations and began to climb up onto the grand house.

His phone buzzed again.

... ... ...

Several hours into the grueling work, Armin could feel his limbs starting to weaken; his brushstrokes becoming more erratic. He was just considering taking a well-deserved and needed break when, quite suddenly, he spotted the gentle motion of a curtain caught in the breeze.

Now, it was a bit unusual for people who lived on the coast to keep their windows shut, but it wasn't odd. The Hoover house, however, had every window closed all hours of the day, and more often than not with the shades drawn. Of course Armin had thought it was strange, but it was none of his concern... nor did it interest him, as some things that were admittedly not his concern sometimes did. But now, faced with this single open window on the third floor of the Hoover mansion, he couldn't resist the urge to investigate.

Painting his way across the tenuous ledge, Armin tried to ignore the warning signs that his body was sending him- he needed to get on solid ground and rest his taxed muscles. But he somehow knew that the window would be closed by the time he returned from any sort of break, and so told himself that he would rest as soon as he had painted the sill of said window. As he drew nearer, he thought he felt his phone vibrate, but it could have been just another slight spasm of his weary muscles.

And then she emerged, shaking her head slightly as she brushed past the constricting curtains and leaned out the window, her whole upper body visible as she stretched in the most luxurious of manners. For a moment, Armin couldn't believe it; for a moment, his tired brain tried to dismiss it as his overactive imagination and months of separation.

"Annie?"

But then she responded; turned suddenly, seeming startled, and her blue eyes locked with his.

"Armin?!"

Two images flashed through the poor boy's mind- one of the demure, intelligent young beauty that he had met in the library, and the other of the carefree, shallow vision he had seen so many times from a distance on the beach. And in that instant, they merged to create one pretty young woman leaning out a window less than a foot away from him.

One Annie Leonheart.

And that was when Armin lost his grip on the side of the Hoovers' mansion, although he never felt himself hit the ground.

Chapter Text

"Oh god oh god oh god!" The young woman's frantic, high-pitched voice faded slowly into Armin's consciousness; he winced slightly, screwing his eyes shut and trying to cling to his peaceful unconsciousness for a moment longer. "Bertl! Bertl, Reiner, please come quickly! Oh god, Armin!!"

The blonde boy slowly blinked open his eyes, a shooting pain radiating up his whole left arm with enough force to make him whimper and clutch at the limb. There was a rush of footsteps around him, and two male figures joined the female crouched over him. Upon noticing his eyes were open, the girl bent over him.

"Oh god Armin, are you alright?!" she asked, and then looked up. "Armin, right? His name is Armin, right?"

"Yeah," Reiner grunted, pushing her gently back and kneeling beside the fallen student. "Hey, Armin. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah..." the blonde managed, although everything was terribly distorted and his own voice was echoing in his skull.

"What hurts?" Reiner pressed, and Armin groaned softly.

"My... arm..." he gasped out, and then winced as another sharp pain radiated up the limb. "Ah-!"

"You're lucky the sun umbrella on our porch broke your fall," the larger boy murmured. "You could have killed yourself, falling from that height."

"Oh god it's my fault!" Armin recognized the voice as Annie's, but the words and the tone were so uncharacteristic that it set his already sore head spinning. "Bertl please, oh please don't punish him! We mustn't punish him! He- he was just doing his job, and I... I...! Oh god I startled the poor child by- by poking my head out of my window and... and...!! He just fell...! Oh Bertl, Bertl, please, we have to help him!!"

Slowly Armin noticed the crowd that had gathered, as his field of awareness widened and began to come into focus. Groaning slightly, he struggled to sit up; Reiner's strong arm in the small of his back helped him.

"Easy, easy," the larger boy murmured, as Armin clutched desperately at his shoulder, teeth grit in agony. "I think you broke your arm. Hold still; we'll get you into the house."

Annie's broken sobbing and half-coherent wails of Bertholdt's nickname provided a surreal backdrop as Armin felt himself lifted from the ground by Reiner, carried effortlessly in the much larger boy's arms. He could hardly think for the pain in his arm, but he just made out Eren's worried voice among the murmur of the crowd and felt a brief flare of guilt that he was causing his good friend such anxiety.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Annie fell silent; Armin couldn't see why as Reiner carried him dutifully over to the couch, laying him down gently.

"I'll go get something to bind that arm until we can get a physician," the young man said calmly, meeting Armin's gaze and smiling reassuringly. "Wait here. Annie will keep you company. Bertl, come with me?"

"O-okay..." the lanky boy said, padding docilely after Reiner with an apologetic glance at the student on his couch. Then, before they were even up the staircase, Annie had seated herself on the edge of the sofa, her mildly amused gaze locked on their unexpected houseguest.

"We meet again, Armin," she said, a bit sadly. "I wished for it, but perhaps we might have arranged it differently, if we had the chance."

"Y-you..." Armin frankly didn't know where to begin- his mind was a blur of confusion and a distinct sense of betrayal. The pain in his arm was still intense, but it had lessened slightly now that he was keeping still. "That was quite a show out there," he finally said, slightly derisively.

Annie's eyes shimmered with anger. "That's all it was- a show. Half of what I do as Bertl's fiancé is just a show."

Armin blinked. "So... it is true that you're his fiancé?"

The girl sighed, shifting and looking away. "I suppose that's technically true, yes. We are planning to be married."

"B-but you... you've been flirting with me...!" Armin burst out. "A-and I've been flirting back! We never wake up without saying 'good morning,' or go to sleep without saying 'good night' to one another! A-and all this time you've been... engaged to Bertholdt Hoover?! Annie, I-I feel... I feel wretched! And not just because I feel deceived," he added quickly, "but because I've been texting almost 24/7 with another guy’s fiancé!"

"I do not love Bertholdt Hoover, not in that way!" Annie's denial was sudden and fierce, fairly shocking Armin into a momentary silence. "Nor does he love me in that way! We are fast friends, Bertl and I- that is all!"

The blonde boy then, could only blink helplessly. "And you're planning to marry him? Why?"

Annie huffed; hung her head so that half her face was hidden by her bangs. "I can't say; I won’t say. It isn't my secret to disclose."

"... Does Bertholdt know you've been talking to me?" For some reason, it was important to Armin.

"No," Annie admitted. "If he knew that I was unhappy, it would break his heart; haunt him. If he knew that I wanted to be with someone else, he'd try to call the whole thing off. And I can't let him do that." When Armin didn't reply, amazed and confused, the girl smiled sadly. "My fate is predetermined because I care for him- I would never choose my happiness over his. However, now I've dragged you into this... because of nothing more than my self-indulgent desire to rebel for a moment. I apologize."

"N-no, don't apologize..." Armin murmured, without hesitation. "I'm... I'm glad that I met you. I wouldn't trade... whatever it is we have... for everything in the world."

The two sat in silence for a moment- not an awkward silence, but not an entirely comfortable one, either.

"Your hair looks good, down," Armin said finally, and Annie shook her head slightly.

"Thank you." Smiling a truly timid smile, Annie reached out and took his good hand; kissed its back lightly. "I see you won't stop your flirting, even though I am engaged to be married."

"And I see you won't stop encouraging me," Armin shot back, although he didn't pull away.

Annie let his hand drop when footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs; Reiner trotted down the steps, Bertl on his heels and bandages in his hands.

"Here, let me see that arm," the broad-shouldered boy said. Wincing, Armin tried to hold the limb out, then spasmed and yelped in pain, clutching at it desperately. Gently, Reiner reached out and pulled his other hand away. "Yep..." he murmured, "you've snapped your humerus. This'll hurt a bit, but I have to shift the bone back into place before I splint it."

Armin whimpered but nodded; grit his teeth and hissed as Reiner tended to the injury. Annie met his gaze; held it, her eyes clear and calm as he winced and wriggled slightly in pain. But her gaze stayed strong and steady; it allowed him to choke back the sobs of agony and trauma, despite the way his lip trembled and his shoulders twitched with suppressed spasms.

Then, before Armin knew it, the pain was fading; breaking eye contact with Annie at last, he turned to find his arm splinted neatly and bound up to his side. Reiner was nodding, seeming quite satisfied with himself.

"Where did you learn to do that?" the student asked in amazement- he hadn't pegged Reiner for one who would have such a varied skill set.

"When I played football in high school, I ended up tending a lot of the other guys' injuries," Reiner replied simply. "No one else cared enough to learn how to properly treat them, so I ended up doing it. A broken bone or concussion that isn't treated promptly can have lasting health effects, you know."

Armin's eyebrows arched; he hasn't pegged Reiner for such a caring person, either. Bertholdt hovered nervously at the other boy's shoulder.

"W-will he be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Armin said, with a strained smile; Bertholdt's expression eased visibly.

"I-I'm really so, so sorry!" he said earnestly. "It is our fault that you got hurt!"

"No, no..." Armin said, holding up his good hand as if to ward off Bertholdt's guilt. "I-it was my own stupid clumsiness."

"Nonsense!" This time it was Annie. "You would not have fallen if I hadn't startled you like that. And now you can't work!"

Armin's heart plummeted suddenly; that hadn't even occurred to him yet. And if I can't work… A poor college student, he was uninsured; he would be lucky to sleep on Eren's floor when he couldn't pay the rent on his shabby but beloved little shack on the beach. And that wasn't even touching the issue of tuition- his plans, his dreams that depended upon his cherished education. The thought brought tears to his eyes, and he couldn't blink them away before Annie noticed.

"Bertl, we have to help," she said, her voice not pitiful and whimpering as it had been outside, but stubborn and commandingly calm. "Your family has more than enough money."

Bertholdt, much to Armin's surprise, nodded readily. "We d-do. Armin, please accept our help! Y-you can stay h-here if you want, while you heal! A-and we'll pay for your t-tuition and your rent, o-of course."

Armin's jaw dropped. "You can't do that."

"We can, and we're going to." Now Annie was using that tone on him. "Hush and say thank you."

"Th-thank... you?" Armin found himself stammering, but then shook his head furiously. "N-no! No, I-I couldn't possibly-"

"You could possibly, and you're going to." Annie's tone held no room for argument. "That's all there is to it- I'll stand for no less, Armin."

And the boy, despite his embarrassment and objection, was powerless to protest.

Chapter Text

"You're staying at the Hoover’s place?!"

Armin shrugged uncomfortably, sipping at his milkshake to avoid his friend's eyes.

"H-How the fuck did that happen?!" Eren was making a scene. He was gesticulating so much that he'd accidentally showered the teens at the next table with French fries... and he didn't even seem to notice.

"They... kinda bullied me into it," Armin admitted. "I mean, Annie-"

"'Annie?!'" Eren demanded, and Armin could had smacked himself for bringing her up voluntarily.

"Bertholdt's fiancé."

Eren's eyes were narrowed. "Isn't that chick you've been texting every five minutes named Annie?"

Armin winced; he sometimes forgot that, despite appearances, his friend was quite sharp. "There are enough Annies in the world to account for a coincidence or two, Eren."

His phone vibrated.

"Where are you?"

"Having lunch with Eren," he typed back, although slower than usual and with only his one hand.

"Was that her?" Eren demanded; Armin stuffed his phone protectively back into his pocket.

"It was the Hoovers' Annie," he said defensively. "She just wanted to know where I was. She's the one who practically forced me to agree to this."

"I smell a scandal!" Eren announced, and Armin groaned internally. He was already playing with fire, and he knew it. He and Annie hadn’t cooled their textual interaction whatsoever, and now they were living in the same house, also the house inhabited by her fiancé- the fiancé she had every intention of marrying in just six short months. Although, Armin reasoned, to be entirely fair, Reiner practically lived there too, and the pair seemed unbothered by his arguably third-wheelish behavior. Annie assured him repeatedly that she and Bertholdt felt no romantic love between them, just the deep bond of childhood friendship, but refused then to tell him why they were betrothed.

Armin's phone vibrated; he pointedly ignored it.

"I'm serious, man," Eren said, munching on his burger for a moment and then continuing to talk through his full mouth. "I-I'm fuckin serious. This smells like trouble, a fucking engaged woman trying so hard to get you to stay in her house."

"She's the one who made me fall," Armin pointed out. "She feels guilty. A-And the house is certainly big enough- it isn't like anyone has to share a room with anyone."

"Still..." Eren grumbled, and Armin felt his phone buzz again. This time he sighed and pulled it out.

"Eren is a bad influence," was the text he had ignored; the second read, "You should come home for lunch. We're having grilled salmon."

Armin glanced down at the cheap, greasy burger that sat, still wrapped, in front of him. Then he looked up at Eren, still ranting, and then down again at his phone.

...Home…?

"I've got to go, Eren. I'll text you later, alright?"

... ... ...

The Hoover's house, if one thing, was huge. Armin had been staying there for several days and was still discovering whole hallways new to him. Embarrassingly enough, he had gotten himself lost more than once. But he knew that its trio of inhabitants were, most likely, out on the rear porch at that hour, and so that was were he headed. True to his predictions, he found the three of them lounging there, Bertholdt and Reiner sitting close together and across from Annie, who motioned for the newcomer to sit beside her. There was already a plate waiting for him on the table.

"A bit better than whatever Jaeger would have you eat?" the girl asked in amusement; Armin's eyes had closed involuntarily as he ate.

"Oh god yes," he replied with a chuckle. "This is amazing! Reiner, is this your work?"

The well-muscled young man puffed out his chest a bit. "I'm glad you like it."

Reiner, Armin had slowly begun to discover, was bursting at the seams with surprises. In addition to the surprising skill as a nurse he had exhibited the day Armin broke his arm, it turned out that his various hobbies included cooking and needlepoint. Annie had also mentioned in passing that he occasionally wrote poetry. The girl sometimes called him "Mother" or "Mama Reiner" when she felt like teasing him.

"I was trying a new recipe," the young man informed his guest proudly. "You really like it?"

"I really like it," Armin assured him, somewhat amused by the way Reiner was fishing for praise. "By far the best salmon I've ever had." The cook beamed; Bertholdt, too, was smiling slightly.

"I'm thinking about picking up a few classes down at the University," Reiner confessed. "Culinary classes. You're a full-time student, Armin- what do you think?"

"I think you should go for it," the blonde answered instantly, and then pointed his fork casually at Reiner. "Go for it!" He doubted that Reiner would ever do anything with any sort of degree he obtained, but Armin knew that he himself would take any number of classes for the sheer love of learning, if he had resources like Reiner did. "Dreams and passions are meant to be followed!"

Reiner's smile widened impossibly. "I think you're right," he declared, and then glanced over at Bertholdt. "Don't you think he's right?"

"I do," the tall boy said, his head bobbing slightly as he nodded. Armin had found that he wasn't nearly as timid around Reiner and Annie as he was around everyone else, although he rarely contradicted them. But he did have a surprisingly strong spirit, and could be the most stubborn of any of them when he set his mind to it.

"It's decided, then!" Reiner said cheerfully. "I'll come down to campus with you tomorrow, Armin, and sign up for next semester!"

Armin jumped; he was admittedly nervous about keeping the company of characters like Reiner Braun in public, but he nodded anyway. "Alright."

Seeming satisfied, the larger boy rose; collected the plates. Bertholdt followed instantly as he trotted from the room, leaving Annie and Armin alone.

"Does he always do that?" Armin asked, motioning after the two young men. "Follow Reiner around like that, I mean?" From what he had seen as of yet, the answer was a resounding "yes."

"Usually," Annie admitted. "He and Reiner are close- closer even than Bertl and I."

Armin thought about that for a moment, a bit baffled by the explanation. Then he shrugged, rising and stretching slightly.

"Alright. I guess I'll go work on my homework, if you don't need me?"

"I always need you, Armin."

The boy flushed at the unexpectedly forward statement. "A-Annie..."

The girl was watching him, her gaze pure and piercing. Feeling his blush deepen, Armin looked away.

"Alright, biology homework it is, then."

... ... ...

"Are you still awake?"

For a moment, lying on his stomach over his history text, Armin considered ignoring the text. Then he sighed; tapped back, "Yeah."

"Can I come over to your room?"

Armin sat up so quickly that he saw sparks. It was one in the morning- Annie should have no reason to ask such a thing. But, in the end, he couldn't reply in any way except for, "Sure."

Within a few moments, there was a hesitant knock at his door. Armin had to take a deep breath to insure that his voice wouldn't crack when he called, "Come in."

Annie entered. She was dressed in a modest blue nightgown with white roses embroidered on the edges, and her hair was down. She approached the boy's bed; he shuffled to the side, making room for her to sit carefully down.

"Armin, I have a question I need to ask you." Her gaze was clear and intense, but also strangely fragile. "It's an intolerably selfish question, really... but I still need to ask it."

Armin felt his insides grow hot, his heart suddenly beating faster, and faster still, until it couldn't keep up with itself and the rhythm became erratic. "A-Anything, Annie."

"Would you ever consider dating a married woman?"

Armin felt his skin begin to steam; had to fight to keep from going a bit cross-eyed. "A... Annie... what...?"

The girl took his good hand; held it lightly in both of hers. "I know it's unreasonable of me to ask, Armin. I don't intend to call off the wedding, and I'm going to stay married to Bertholdt for as long as he needs me to. But I want you- I want you so badly, Armin Arlert. Therefore, would you ever consider dating a married woman?"

Armin knew how he should have answered; he knew the rational- the arguably correct-answer. But before he could speak it, he heard his own voice saying something entirely different from what he had intended.

"I'd only consider it if that married woman was you, Annie."

The girl's lips curved in a gentle, hesitant smile. The she leaned forward, pinning Armin's hand to his lap with both of hers, and kissed him- chastely, but not particularly quickly. And Armin felt his head tip to the side, deepening the kiss as he forwent oxygen for the taste of Annie Leonheart; the feel of her skin, hot against his; the beat of her heart, just as fast but slightly steadier than his own.

Chapter Text

Armin usually walked or took the bus to school; there was no need for him to worry about a car in such a small, tight-knit little beachside town. Eren lived practically in the center of town, and he and Armin had a fifteen minute walk between their houses. In short, a car- even a bike, or something similar -was entirely unnecessary.

The next morning, Armin Arlert half-stepped, half-slunk out of the Braun's shiny Mercedes and onto campus.

Reiner had insisted.

Passing students paused to stare; Armin kept his head down, dreading the questions that were bound to be flung at him, as he led the way toward Admissions.

"Armin!"

"Armin, is that you, man?!"

Wincing, the blonde forced himself to look up, then squeaked in alarm as the two skateboarders skidded up to him, not stopping but instead riding around and around him in tight circles.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Why are you getting out of the Braun's car?"

"Dude, you broke it!"

"You broke it!"

"Hey, Armin broke his arm! Hahaha!"

“Armin broke his arm!”

"Oh hey, Reiner!"

"H-Hey..." the young man replied shakily, watching as the two of them swarmed around Armin on their boards. The blonde looked dizzier than either of them. "Armin? Are you okay?"

"'Armin are you okay?!'" the boy skater echoed mockingly, skidding to a halt and then rolling casually up to Reiner. "What business do you have with our Armin, huh?" he demanded, jabbing the much larger boy in the chest. "Huh? Huh?!"

"Yeah, huh?!" the girl demanded, following her friend's lead and shoving Reiner in the chest.

"Stop it you guys!" Armin wailed, upon recovering some of his balance. "Come on, be reasonable! Don't be mean!"

"Armin's defending Reiner?!" the boy gasped in exaggerated shock, and the girl made a show of grabbing her chest.

"The world's gone mad!" she moaned, swooning and toppling into her friend's waiting arms.

"Hang in there!" he cried, with feigned panic. "Look what you've done to her!" he yowled at Armin, and then wailed, "Medic! Help, we need a medic!"

Reiner looked over at Armin in amazed confusion; the smaller boy only sighed and shrugged.

"Just ignore them."

"Hey!!" the girl yelped, leaping up from her supposed faint. "No, don't ignore us! Introduce us, Armin! Introduce us to your new buuuuddy!"

"Yeah, your new buuuuddy!!" the boy echoed, flipping his skateboard up with his foot and catching it in the air. "Introduce us, Armin, c'mon!"

"C'mon, Armin!"

"Yeah, c'mon!!"

Armin groaned. "Reiner, these two morons are Sasha Blaus and Connie Springer."

"And your new friend is?" Sasha prompted.

"Yeah, who's your new friend, Armin?" Connie demanded.

"You already know exactly who he is!" Armin groaned, but then relented. "Sasha, Connie, this is Reiner Braun."

"Pleased to meet you!" Connie exclaimed cheerfully, sticking out his hand. Reiner shook it tentatively.

"So what happened to you arm?" Sasha demanded, grabbing it and making Armin yelp.

"Ow-ow-oww! Sasha...!" he whimpered, tucking his injured limb up to his side and cradling it protectively. "I fell, okay? I fell while I was painting the Hoovers' house!"

Both skaters gasped loudly and exchanged a glance. Armin hunched his shoulders uncomfortably.

"It's no big deal, okay?" he said, and then motioned to Reiner. "C'mon, I've got to get you to Admissions before I'm due in English class."

"Admissions?" Connie and Sasha both echoed in unison. "Admissions?"

"Yes, Admissions!" Armin snapped in exasperation. "You know, that place you go to sign up for classes?"

"You're gonna take some classes, Reiner?" Connie asked eagerly, falling in beside the muscular young man as they began to walk. Sasha, still on her board, wove in lazy zigzags beside them.

"Y-Yes," Reiner answered, glancing at Armin. The blonde, however, was pointedly ignoring his little following of three as he marched across the campus. "I'm going to sign up for some culinary classes next semester."

"Reiner Braun cooks?" Connie exclaimed in surprise, and instantly Sasha was trotting up on Reiner's other side, her eyes shining.

"Marry me!!"

Reiner recoiled in surprise, and Connie reached over to smack his friend in the back of his head.

"Don't say that to every man you meet that can cook!"

"But I need to find myself a boyfriend!" Sasha whined. "Your cooking sucks, Connie!"

"H-Hey!" the boy spluttered. "Don't be mean, Sasha!" Then he turned to Reiner, pawing at the larger boy's shoulder. "Hey, bro, be a pal! Give me lessons, c'mon!"

Reiner, more than a bit flustered, shrugged. "I guess... i-if you wanted to come over... I could show you a few things...?"

"He's blushing!" Sasha yelped with a laugh. She nudged Reiner playfully, making him stumble. "Look at him, Connie! He's blushing! You made Reiner Braun blush!"

Connie laughed. "You don't have to be embarrassed, bro," he said easily, giving Reiner a shove from the other side. "Do you know how many guys would kill to be able to cook decently? I may take you up on those lessons, by the way," he added, in a slightly lower voice.

"Good luck teaching this loser how to make toast!" Sasha yelped, and then dissolved into a fit of giggles as Connie screeched an objection.

"We're here," Armin called testily, and indeed they had arrived at Admissions. "Do you need me for anything else, Reiner? Because I have to get to class."

"I-I think I'm-"

"He's fine," Connie chirped, ushering Reiner past Armin and into the Admissions office.

"Yeah, we'll look after him!" Sasha added, patting Armin on the head as she passed.

And then the door had closed behind them, and Armin couldn't quite decide if he was more irritated at his friends' antics or grateful that they had taken the rich young Reiner Braun off his hands.

Deciding it was the later, he turned and made his cheerful way to English class.

... ... ...

Midway through a lecture on Romeo and Juliet, Armin's phone buzzed. Half expecting it to be Annie, he was surprised when he saw Connie's name on his screen.

"Hey, this Reiner kid is actually pretty cool!" It read. "We were just teasing him, thinking he was some stuck up rich kid! But he's really not!"

"I know," Armin tapped back, a bit irritated by the assumption on Reiner's behalf. "He's been nothing but kind since I broke my arm."

"So I'm kinda coming over to the Hoovers' tonight for cooking lessons."

Armin choked slightly, earning an odd look from his professor. "You're WHAT?? And why the HOOVER’S place? Aren't you getting lessons from Reiner BRAUN?"

"Yeah, but he says Bertholdt has a bigger kitchen."

Armin face-palmed, unconcerned with his teacher's reaction.

"Did he already tell you that I'm STAYING at the Hoovers' house?" Even if Reiner hadn't spilled the proverbial beans, Armin wouldn't be able to hide it with Connie coming over for cooking lessons.

"YOU'RE WHAAAAAAT????!!!!1!!1!!???!??!?!!??1"

That was a no, then.

"They're putting me up because Bertholdt's fiancé feels responsible for my fall." Easier to get explanations out of the way over text.

"UOURE WHAAASEAAATT???!?,???!???,11 n??,?1"

Armin sighed.

"NO FUCKIN COMPRENDEO HOMBRE"

"I'M STAYING AT THE HOOVERS' HOUSE." If Connie was going to shout, Armin could too. "I GUESS I'LL SEE YOU TONIGHT."

"FINE THEN JUST FINE. I'LL SEE YOU TONIGHT TOO."

"FINE."

"WELL OKAY THEN."

... ... ...

Armin was surprised, when he got out of class, to find Reiner Braun waiting for him.

"Hey."

"Hey," the larger boy replied, falling into step beside him. "I waited for you."

"I can see that," Armin said, trying to ignore the stares that they were garnering from passing students.

"I didn't want you to have to walk all the way home."

Armin shrugged. Home... Now Reiner was doing it. And it wasn't even Reiner's house in the first place.

The two walked in relative silence back to the car; Reiner held Armin's backpack while he struggled, momentarily, with the passenger side door. Then they were off, leaving a torrent of whispers in their wake.

"Those two, Sasha and Connie... they're... nice," Reiner said, after a moment.

"They're a trip, is what those two are."

Reiner smiled, relaxing slightly at Armin's light tone. "Connie is coming over for cooking lessons tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yep."

They both fell silent.

"Don't Bertholdt's parents object to all the extra people in the house?" Armin couldn't resist asking it. After over a week, he hadn't seen Mr. or Mrs. Hoover once... or even heard them mentioned.

"They don't live in the house."

"I had gathered as much."

Reiner sighed slightly, looking wistfully out his window. "As long as they're the type they approve of, they couldn't care less how many people Bertl has over."

The type... they approve of... "I'm certainly not an upper-crust kid," he pointed out. "Not like you and Marco and Jean; I'm a laborer. Why don't they object to me?"

"Bertholdt pitched you as a good PR move," Reiner said, with a slight smirk. "Garner goodwill with the peasants, and whatnot."

Armin snorted slightly. "Oh did he?"

"We don't look at you like that, I hope you know," Reiner added, as he pulled into the Hoovers' driveway.

And Armin found that he wasn't lying when he replied. "I know. Thanks for the ride, Reiner."

Chapter Text

"Armin! Yo!" Connie greeted him, when the blonde met him at the door. "You really are here! I kinda thought you were kidding!"

"If only," Armin muttered, ushering his friend inside and then informing him, louder, "Reiner's waiting for you in the kitchen. Go down that hall, take the third left, and it'll be on your right; can't miss it. I'll be doing some bio homework, so keep it down."

"Whoa, this place is huge!!" Connie exclaimed, and Armin gave him a shove in the right direction to get him moving. "Alright, alright, I'm going! Hey, think you could introduce me to Bertholdt's fiancé while I'm here? I hear she's a real looker!"

"No!" Armin snapped, a bit too angrily. "Go- go! Reiner's waiting for you!"

"Alright, man, fine! Fine, I'm going!" Connie held up his hands, but then cracked a grin and ruffled Armin's hair before darting off down the hallway. Scowling, the blonde turned and made for the staircase, fully intending to hide in his room with only his biology homework for company.

But his phone buzzed.

"Come to my room?"

"Connie's over for his cooking lesson."

"I know."

Armin's eyebrows arched, but he turned, almost inadvertently, toward Annie's room instead of his own. And then he had arrived at her door; she, possibly listening for his footsteps, opened it for him.

"Annie?"

The girl smiled, looking a bit nervous. "We don't talk face-to-face often enough, considering we live in the same house."

"Oh." A bit more at ease, Armin came further into the room and plopped down on her bed. Kicking off his shoes, he brought his legs up and sat cross-legged. "So... what do you want to talk about?"

Annie laughed slightly. "Well... how was your day?"

"Exhausting," Armin admitted. "Between Reiner and Connie and my classes, it's been an unpleasantly stressful day. How about yours?"

"Bertholdt had a panic attack at noon, so I had to help him through that..." Annie said, with a sigh, "and-" There was a sudden crash from downstairs, and the girl cut herself off.

"Continue," the boy said, after a pause, and Annie narrowed her eyes.

"Nope. Because as soon as I do-"

"Annie, Annie, where's the fire extinguisher?!" Bertholdt came flying into the room, all wide eyes and flailing limbs. "The kitchen is on fire!!"

"-that'll happen," Annie finished, huffing rather crossly and jogging from the room with Bertholdt- and Armin, more reluctantly -on her heals. The girl took the stairs three at a time, then flew down the corridors and skidded into the kitchen. The trio arrived just in time to run smack dab into Reiner, who was fleeing the scene with Connie slung up over his shoulder.

"Annie, Annie, don't go in there!" he shouted, frantic.

"A-Annie...!" Bertholdt, too, objected.

And as the girl strode past them both, Armin tried to reach forward to grip her shoulder, only to have his arm jerk uselessly in its cast as she moved beyond his reach.

"Do you not even know how to put out a small geese fire?" Annie asked in irritation, indicating the raging inferno atop the stove. "Reiner, you fancy yourself a cook, for goodness sake." With an air that didn't suit her empty-headed rich girl act, she ignored the fire and made, instead, for a cabinet and the flour within. After the fire was out she turned, a self-satisfied and mildly irritated smirk on her face, to the four gaping boys watching from the doorway. "Problem solved."

"You... are one damn lucky man, Bertholdt," Connie said softly, still slung over Reiner's shoulder.

That snapped Armin out of his daze like a slap to the face. But as Annie stalked back out of the kitchen, her eyes met his, not Bertholdt's; they glimmered with humor and affection.

"Get back to your cooking, Mama Braun. And remember, flour puts out grease fires. I don't want any more interruptions in the absolutely riveting intellectual conversation I'm in the middle of with Armin."

The boy in question felt his face flare up with heat, but no one else seemed to find Annie's statement suspect. So he was left to trail helplessly after her as the little knot of people drifted apart. Bertholdt, he noticed, stayed with Reiner and Connie in the kitchen.

Annie walked fast enough so that Armin had to struggle to keep up. By the time they returned to her room, he was breathless and more than a bit confused, but he scarcely had time to draw breath to ask a question before she had closed the door behind him and pinned him against it. The amusement in her eyes was even brighter, and then a laugh was bubbling up her her throat.

"God, you're just the most precious thing."

"H-Huh...?" was all Armin could stammer.

"I'm glad the others were distracted, because if they had so much as glanced at you, our secret would be out."

Armin felt his blush grow more intense. "Wh-What makes you say that?" he asked, a bit defensively.

Annie's look turned a bit baleful. "Please, Armin. You were staring at me with the most shamelessly love-struck expression, and then when Connie said that Bertl was lucky- heavens! If looks could kill, poor Connie would be in the hospital!"

Armin looked down. "Well... how else am I supposed to react?" he asked sorely. "The whole world thinks that you belong to Bertholdt."

"You know otherwise."

Armin let out an irritated little noise. "Are you telling me that that should be enough? Annie, I'm not that strong! When the whole world is telling me something... That's just part of being human! We're all susceptible to... to outside influence and the opinions of others!"

"Perhaps it is a... human thing," the girl admitted, "but boys, in my experience, are especially insecure about themselves and their social standings." Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly, drawing back just as he began to relax into the kiss. "Does this reassure you that you, Armin Arlert, are the lucky one?"

"... It's a start," the boy murmured grumpily, and Annie laughed. Then she kissed him again, longer this time; more passionately.

"Do you think this counts as an intellectual discussion?" she whispered against his mouth, and he smiled.

"In its own way, I suppose, especially when you consider the social and psychological implications of our relationship in a larger context."

"What an excellent point. Shall we discuss it further?"

... ... ...

Armin was acutely aware of his ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and his broken arm was throbbing from being pressed against.

"H-hi, Eren! What's up?"

His friend peered at him; Armin realized suddenly that his shirt was askew and fixed it with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" he asked cheerfully; Eren's eyes narrowed.

"Just came down to say 'hey.' Gonna let me in?"

Armin had promised Annie a minimum of two minutes of stalling. "Well... yeah, if you want..." He leaned awkwardly against the doorframe. "But... first tell me how you've been doing!"

"... You saw me yesterday, Armin."

The blonde boy was beginning to sweat. "Haha, that's right! So, uh... how was last night?"

Moments earlier, Armin and Annie had been enjoying a rare moment when Bertholdt and Reiner were out together. They had the house to themselves, and so had commandeered the couch for their scandalous purposes. Armin had, frankly, been relieved by the interruption of the doorbell; his own body had been starting to override his good sense... or what little good sense he was able to maintain in the presence of Annie Leonheart.

"Who's at the door, Armin?" The blonde boy breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Annie materialized behind him. "Eren? Well don't be barbaric; invite the boy in."

Armin stepped aside as Annie ushered his friend into the grand house. "I-I wasn't sure I was allowed to let anyone in," he said, and Annie laughed lightly- the sound was hollow, the laugh of a shallow rich girl; it was a laugh that didn't suit Annie Leonheart.

"So silly!" she said brightly, still giggling. "Of course you can have your little friends over to play!"

Eren shot Armin a look that was disbelieving and slightly insulted. 'Fucking hot, but such an airhead!' he mouthed, and Armin shrugged. It unnerved him how flawless Annie's empty-headed act was, but at least it had distracted Eren.

'Pretty cute, but so dense!' Armin choked when Annie caught his eye and mouthed it, pointing to Eren. He coughed and hacked, trying to get his breath back as suppressed laughter threatened to strangle him, much to the confusion of both his companions.

"I think there's some brunch leftover," Annie offered, and Eren's ears pricked up. "Join us for a snack?"

"I can't say no to that!" the brunette said cheerfully, trotting after the girl. Armin fell in beside him, still recovering, and then choked again as Eren pointed eagerly at Annie's behind and made an incredibly lewd gesture.

"Wow, this house is like... huge!" the visitor exclaimed, after a minute or so of walking. "Where's brunch- in the next county over?"

Annie giggled delightedly and Eren grinned, seeming pleased that he had made her laugh. Armin rolled his eyes, knowing that Annie was doing the same internally.

"You silly boy!" she said, in a tone that didn't suit her at all. "No, we're just going out to the porch. It's still too lovely out to eat indoors!"

Upon arriving at said porch, Annie motioned graciously to the padded couch across the table from where she sat. Armin was internally disappointed; he would much rather be pressed against her, in these few precious moments they were free of Bertholdt and Reiner. But he sat beside Eren uncomplainingly, and then pulled a trey of crab puffs closer. Eren picked one up immediately, biting into it unceremoniously.

"This is fantastic!" he exclaimed, crumbs falling from his mouth as he did so. Armin winced with secondhand embarrassment; Annie quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm so glad!" the girl said, although her fake smile wasn't nearly as bright as Reiner's had been when Armin had complimented the same crab puffs that very morning. "I made them myself!"

"You are one hell of a woman!" Eren said. "Armin, man, do you get food like this every day now?"

"W-Well-"

"You're gonna get so chubby, its gonna be the cutest damn thing!" Eren continued, cramming the rest of the crab puff in his mouth before leaning over and gripping Armin's sides- right where he knew the smaller boy was ticklish.

"Ah-!! Ere- haha-! St-ahhahahaaaap!!" Armin gasped as a fit of laughter took him; it was a few moments before Eren relented, leaving him a trembling, panting mess curled up in one corner of the couch.

"Yep, you feel softer already," Eren proclaimed.

"Y-you're such a jerk..." Armin whimpered, and then caught Annie's eye. The girl's gaze was glittering with the most malicious playfulness he had ever seen, and he realized with a groan that she now knew he was quite ticklish. "Damn it, Eren..."

"So how's that timid-as-everloving-fuck beanstalk Bertholdt in bed?" Eren asked abruptly; Armin flushed red and smacked his hand across his friend's mouth. Annie only laughed lightly.

"He's fantastic!" she giggled. "So flexible~"

Eren grinned around his friend's hand, and Armin shot the girl a "was that really necessary?" look. She only smiled blankly back.

"Hey, can I get a look at that ring he gave you?" Eren asked, picking up another crab puff and stuffing it into his mouth whole. "That's all anyone's talking about, you know," he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere.

Annie held out her hand with a girlish giggle; Armin was suddenly very glad that she had thought to put it on at all. Most of the time she didn't wear the engagement ring inside the house. Eren took her hand as he examined it, his mouth dropping open.

"Holy fuck! How much did this rock cost?!" he spluttered, and Armin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It unsettled him how much money Bertholdt spent on his supposedly fake fiancé, despite the fact that the Hoover family had a startling overabundance of capital.

"About 4.2 million," Annie announced, with girlish glee. "It's 17 carrots!"

Again Armin felt himself shrink just slightly; Annie caught his eye, her gaze dimming with the realization of how uncomfortable he was.

"Money means nothing to me, Armin." She had told him that yet again, just the night before. Armin wanted to believe her, but his own insecurities were far too crippling. But, for the sake of the charade, she couldn't let her discomfort show, and neither could Armin.

"It's certainly more impressive than the plastic ring he gave me when we were kids," she said cheerfully, retracting her hand and making a show of examining the obscene diamond. "Although that certainly was romantic."

Eren laughed. "Childhood romances are the cutest," he commented, and then crammed another crab puff into his mouth. "Although I can't quite picture awkward Bertholdt as romantic," he admitted.

To Armin's surprise, he saw Annie's eyes flash with something startlingly hostile; Eren didn't seem to catch it. "Oh, he's simply the most precious little gentleman. There aren't many men like him left in the world." Her voice was still light and cheerful, but Armin noticed the edge to it- hard, critical, and most of all defensive. He tried to decide if he was more annoyed, jealous, or curious.

Again Eren was oblivious. But he hadn't meant to offend in the first place, so he didn't press the issue, mindlessly changing the topic instead. "Hey, you ever considered picking up a cooking class or two?" he asked, as he bit into another crab puff. "Not that you'll have to work a day in your life with Hoover as your hubby, but you've got a gift here, girly."

... ... ...

"Why were you so quick to defend Bertholdt in front if Eren today?"

"What, you don't have the nerve to ask me face to face?"

Armin smiled at his phone. "I suppose not."

"Come to my room and I'll tell you."

Armin considered the offer for a long moment. "Reiner is still messing around in the kitchen," he answered finally. "What do I do if he or Bertholdt catch me?"

"The great Armin Arlert can certainly bluff his way past a couple of dolts like Rei and Bertl."

Laughing despite himself, Armin relented. "Alright. I'll be there in a few minutes."

As it happened, Bertholdt and Reiner both seemed far too busy in the kitchen to notice their houseguest sneaking across the second floor. Armin paused, listening to their laughter for a moment- Reiner's hearty and cheerful; Bertholdt's more nervous but still obviously happy. Then he stole the rest of the way down the hallway quickly, and arrived at Annie's door breathless.

His phone buzzed before he could knock. "Come in."

Smiling, Armin pushed into her room; closed the door behind him with a soft click. "I wasn't that lou-" he began to object, only to be cut off by Annie Leonheart's soft mouth pressed against his.

"I do not love Bertholdt," she murmured, her breath hot against his lips, "but I'm not above admiring his romanticism. There are few men like him in the world."

"And me?" Armin asked breathlessly. "What's your opinion of my romantic skill set?"

She smacked him gently in the chest. "You courted me over text."

"It is the 21st century, young miss," he replied with a smirk. "The days of balconies and serenades are long past, I'm afraid."

Annie's smiled softly. "Point taken, Armin Arlert," she said, and then pulled him toward her for another kiss. He obliged, hands slipping up her shirt and roaming the smooth skin of her stomach and sides. Then he brought them around, scratching gently at her back and pulling her closer with the embrace.

"I'll try harder," he whispered, against her lips. "I can't buy you a ring like Bertholdt, but I'll try harder."

Annie drew back slightly; took his chin authoritatively. "You don't have to compete with Bertholdt," she said sternly. "You only have to be yourself, Armin. That's who I'm falling in love with, after all- you."

"I'll never stop wondering how that can be," Armin admitted, his eyes drifting down. Annie lifted his head higher, straining his neck and forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Then why did you try so hard to make this happen?" she challenged. "I would have been content to let that night in the library pass, Armin. It was you who chased after me, and don't you ever forget that."

"But I never thought-" the boy began, only to have his words drowned in a kiss.

"You would have only chased after me if you thought something could come of it," Annie said sternly, when she let him breathe again. "Consciously or unconsciously, you knew that we could be something worthwhile. If you stop believing that, we'll drift apart. To fight fate takes determination, and determination stems from conviction, Armin."

The boy blinked at her, trying to formulate the words to reply. But for once he was speechless, and Annie's gaze softened.

"But don't look so frightened, either," she murmured, kissing him once more, this time quickly and chastely. "Trust me, too. We're fighting fate together, remember."

Armin felt himself begin to smile; let himself lean into her and bury his face in her neck, breathing in her scent- she smelled, he thought, of the ocean.

"I love you, Annie."

"And I you, Armin. I'm simply sorry that I can't cry it from the cliff-tops."

Chapter Text

There was a chill in the air when Armin awoke at dawn; he was surprised when he touched the glass of his window and felt it cold beneath his fingers. He glanced at his calendar, narrowing his eyes.

October 26... time... is passing...

The beach's inhabitants wouldn't abandon their sunbathing and surfboarding for quite a while, but the first chilly day took everyone by enough surprise to keep them indoors; it was too early to be out, regardless. The last thing that Armin expected to see, when he returned his gaze to the window, was the blonde girl sitting alone on the beach, right at the tideline.

"... Annie?"

Upon brief consideration, the boy pulled his shirt on over his cast with an effort and made his way downstairs. The marble of the staircase was chilled on his bare feet, and he glanced around the seemingly deserted house before deciding to cut across the carpeted second floor instead of the first. It was unlikely anyway, he decided, that Bertholdt was already awake.

"... make crepes for breakfast. I know they're your favorite."

Armin froze at the soft voice; glanced nervously at the door he had been passing. It was Bertholdt's bedroom, without a doubt, but that voice...

"You're too... good to me."

"You deserve so much more."

Reiner...?

It was decidedly too early, Armin thought, for the blonde to be over. Did he... stay the night...? And even if he had, why was he in Bertholdt's room, when the Hoover's mansion had any number of spare rooms?

"Come on; let's head downstairs."

Armin wasn't sure why he should be nervous about being discovered; he had every right to walk about the hallways of his current residence, guest though he was. But the idea of being found there made him bristle and be on his way before Bertholdt's bedroom door could open.

Forgetting about his shoes altogether, he darted out onto the beach, feeling the sand shift beneath his feet. He nearly lost his balance as he started down the bank, and before he reached the bottom he had, landing with an unpleasant thud and a startled squeak. The sand beneath him gave way, and he proceeded to slide up on his backside to where Annie was sitting. The girl looked over at him, amusement glimmering in her eyes.

"Good morning, Armin. Nice entrance."

The boy chuckled self-consciously. "I-It's hard to keep my balance with only one arm..."

Annie smiled warmly at him, but then returned her gaze to the ocean. Scooting slightly closer to her, Armin leaned over and examined her face.

"What's wrong?"

The girl sighed, her shoulders hunching slightly. "Bertholdt's father is flying in today."

Armin stiffened. "Oh."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, gazing out at the ocean and shivering slightly in the chilled dawn air. Then Annie reached over, abruptly taking Armin's good hand and squeezing it tightly.

"I love you, Armin. Do me a favor and don't ever forget that. Don't let me forget it, either."

Armin glanced at her in surprise, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I love you too, Annie. Don't forget that, either."

The girl turned and returned the kiss, full on the lips; Armin felt his whole body tingle with the paranoia of being seen, there in the open, out on the beach. But they were alone, and the last thing that Annie needed to be told at that moment was to remember discretion. So Armin kissed her back, with every ounce of love in his body, forcing himself to close his eyes despite how exposed they were.

... ... ...

Mr. Hoover was an intimidating presence, to say the least.

"W-Welcome home, Father," Bertholdt said, dipping his head as the older man entered the house. Annie stood at his side, clothed in a gauzy blue dress and a floral headband.

"Father! May I call you Father? It's so lovely to see you again!"

The man didn't respond to either of them, his eyes sweeping the room until they encountered Armin, perched tensely on the couch.

"This is the little urchin you've been putting up, Bertholdt?"

The blonde bolted to his feet, feeling strangely as if he should salute. "S-Sir, thank you for opening your house to me! I am forever in your debt!"

Mr. Hoover's eyes narrowed, but he nodded slowly. "Decent manners, for a thug," he said, and then turned back to Bertholdt and Annie. "I've come to see how the wedding preparations are coming along. Your mother is very eager to hear about things like colors and silverware."

"And I'm so eager to tell you!" Annie gushed, coming forward and taking Mr. Hoover by the arm. "Come, come!"

The older man allowed himself to be pulled from the room by the enthusiastic Annie Leonheart, with Bertholdt and Armin trailing more reluctantly behind. The girl led them into the dining room, where the table stood cluttered with bridal catalogues.

"We were thinking greens and pinks for the color scheme," she began excitedly, rustling about on the table, "and we've picked out... ah! Here! We've picked out these invitations, although I think that hand-addressing the envelopes would be a lovely touch."

"Hand addressing 500 invitations?" Mr. Hoover asked, and Armin almost choked on the number.

"Every one of them will be people to impress!" Annie chirped, and Mr. Hoover's thin lips curved up, ever so slightly.

"I, for one, am already impressed."

Armin glanced over when Bertholdt gave a nervous cough; neither Annie nor Mr. Hoover reacted. But the young heir was starting to shake, his brow glistening with sweat, and Armin could think of nothing better to do than reach out and touch his arm gently.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked softly, as Annie continued to chat about floral garlands. “Bertholdt?”

“I-I just… I-I… n-need…” the boy began, and then choked softly on his words. Feeling his own chest begin to tighten with panic, Armin casually took his hand; it was cold and clammy.

“A-Annie…” he called, trying to force some manner of cheer into his voice, “Bertholdt and I are going to get a bit of air, alright?”

“Suit yourselves!” the girl called flippantly, without looking up from what she was discussing in furtive, excited tones with Mr. Hoover. She suddenly let out a trilling giggle, the sound of it contrasted sharply with Bertholdt’s soft whimpering and making Armin’s hair stand on end. The boy felt an unexpected stab of irritation- almost resentment -as he began to lead Bertholdt from the room.

"I love you, Armin. Do me a favor and don't ever forget that. Don't let me forget it, either."

”I love you, Annie!” What would happen if he called it back over his shoulder, just as flippantly as she had just said, ”Suit yourselves!” Would anyone even bat an eye, or would they all be so wrapped up in their own frivolous worlds of wedding plans that they wouldn’t even notice?

A soft moan from Bertholdt snapped Armin out of his reverie, and he pulled the other boy from the room quicker than before. They made it out onto the patio a moment later, where Armin let his impromptu charge flop down on the plush swing to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he sat down more delicately beside him.

“Hey…” he said, shaking Bertholdt gently. “What was that all about? Are you alright?”

“I-I…” The boy was calm at first, but suddenly he doubled over and covered his mouth with one hand. “I wish… Reiner was here… I can’t… I-I can’t do this on my own…!”

Tentatively, Armin removed his hand from Bertholdt’s shoulder, wishing he had the use of both his arms. But he managed to nudge his phone out of his pocket, tapping casually at it’s screen out of Bertholdt’s view.

“Come quivkly. Bertl is habing some sort if pamic attack.” It turned out pretty decently, considering he wasn’t looking. “Hes asling for you .”

The reply was instantaneous. “I’m on my way.”

In the meantime, Armin was left to do what he could. “It’s okay, Bertholdt…” he murmured, rubbing as non-awkwardly as he could at the other boy’s shoulder. “Reiner is on his way, alright? He’ll be here soon, I promise.”

Bertholdt’s only response to any of his words, at that point, were disjointed whimperings.

Armin kept talking them both in soothing circles until the squeal of tires cut through the air; Armin was halfway through wondering why said tires sounded so close when Reiner’s motorbike came skidding into view along the garden path. It shrieked to a halt as Reiner slammed on the brakes, letting the bike crash onto it’s side as he dismounted and rushed to where the other two were sitting. Armin scooted obligingly to the side as Reiner sat in his place, wrapping his arms around Bertholdt’s trembling body and bundling him up in an embrace.

“I’m here, Bertl.”

“Reiner…!” The boy looped his thin arms around his companion’s broad shoulders, his face hidden in Reiner’s neck. “I-I… I don’t know if I can go through with this, Reiner…!!”

Armin felt every inch of his skin flush with heat. ’This…’ the wedding… he’s talking… about the wedding... He felt his hair stand on end as Reiner shot him a glance over his shoulder- the boy’s eyes were limpid with pain.

“Thanks, Armin. I mean it. I’ll take it from here, though.”

Nodding jerkily, the blonde began to back away slowly. He saw the two boys curl up tighter around one another, and saw Reiner press his lips to Bertholdt’s ear. He was still just close enough to make out the murmured words.

“Stay strong, Bertl… just remember why we’re doing this… hang on to that...”

And then he was out of earshot- as he should be, he told himself firmly. Turning away from the scene, he hurried back inside, clutching unconsciously at his broken arm.

But… Reiner… Reiner knows…

As he tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, Armin nearly ran headlong into Annie and Mr. Hoover; he caught just a flash of concern in Annie’s eyes before her mask was back in place.

“Armin!” she greeted him cheerfully, patting his head in a diminutive fashion. “Where did you get to?”

“And where is that good-for-nothing son of mine?” Mr. Hoover asked, his voice dangerously casual. Armin flinched at the undertones of his words and the hardness of his gaze.

“I… don’t know.” There seemed to be no choice other than an outright lie- he certainly wasn’t about to disclose Bertholdt and Reiner’s location to that man. “We split up.”

Mr. Hoover huffed. “Peasants- worthless as ever,” he scoffed, and Armin felt a brief stab of pride that he had caused the man irritation. “Annie?”

“Let’s check his room!” the girl chirped, taking her soon-to-be father-in-law’s hand and leading him toward the staircase. “I’ll bet that’s where the cutie is hiding! He gets so bashful whenever we start talking about wedding plans!”

Again Armin felt a brief flare of satisfaction- he and Annie were working together to protect Bertholdt. And he needs protection… the blonde thought, watching Mr. Hoover’s back with a shiver, with a father like that…

Annie… and I…

… and Reiner…?

A strange bitterness rose in Armin’s throat at the thought of the other blonde. Reiner cares about Bertholdt, too… he protects him, too… but… but he knows... and I…

Shaking off the unpleasant feeling, Armin looked around; the huge house appeared deserted, with Annie and Mr. Hoover searching the upstairs and Reiner and Bertholdt hidden away on the veranda. Armin wondered if he should simply retreat to his room, but he decided that he would just end up trapped there. Better, he decided, to just get out of the house altogether. So he shrugged on a cropped jacket and, with no one to alert to his departure, simply slipped out the door.

”Free to hang?”

”Sorry, bro!!!! In a movie!!”

”... Why are you texting me back, then? Turn off the phone, dork!”

”xP”

Armin sighed, tucking his phone away. So much for Eren… Truly at loose ends, then, he made his slow way down to the small outdoor mall near the center of town. He didn’t mind being alone, not really; it let his thoughts settle a bit, and his anxiety had eased by the time he ordered himself a fruity, blended beverage at a little drink shack.

The shack was playing cheerful music- something about love making one’s heart beat faster. His thoughts turned slowly to the happier aspects of being in love. As he sat there, sipping a nigh unbearably sweet drink and ruminating on romanticism, there was a sudden explosion of movement in the corner of his vision. He turned, mildly delighted to see that two girls were up and dancing.

He recognised them from college- they were the stars of the school’s dance troupe. Ymir… and Krista… Yes, those were their names. He watched as the taller of the two, Ymir, spun her partner in graceful twirls; watched as their bodies conformed to one another’s perfectly in the closer movements of the dance. And as the music wound down, Ymir swept the smaller girl up into her arms, kissing her passionately. A smattering of applause bubbled up from the impromptu audience, and Armin clapped as best he could with one hand in a cast.

That was so… romantic!

And suddenly, something clicked.

Hopping up off his stool, he trotted quickly after the two girls as they walked away, hand-in-hand. It took him a moment to find his voice, but when at last he did he called out after them, hoping that he had remembered their names correctly.

“Y-Ymir…! Krista…!”

Both girls turned- the blonde one greeted him warmly. “Hello! I… I know you! We had English together freshman year! Armin, right?”

Surprised that she had remembered- and duly flustered by the fact -Armin pulled up short and stammered, “Y-Yes…! That… that was very… very beautiful!” He made an awkward gesture back toward the drink stand.

“That? That was just some improv,” Ymir said dismissively, with a disinterested look at him. “What do you want, string-bean?”

“Ymir, don’t be mean!” Krista chastised her, and then turned back to Armin. “Thank you! Ymir may be a bit rough, but it means a lot whenever people like our dancing!”

“I-I… I did like it! I liked it very much!” Now nerves were getting the better of him, but Armin swallowed hard and forced his next words out. “I… I’m trying… I’m trying to learn how to… to be more romantic… b-because… I’m really, really bad at it, apparently…. and… and that I was so romantic...

“I… I wondered if… i-if you might… if you might give me lessons!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Armin tried to take them back. “Well, i-if… I-I… I mean-!”

“We’d be delighted to, wouldn’t we, Ymir?” Krista ran right over his stammers, smiling in delight up at her girlfriend. Ymir raised one eyebrow, leaning in and staring critically down at Armin.

“... Got a girl to impress, do you?” she asked, and Armin shrunk inside his skin.

“... Y-Yes…”

Ymir snorted. “Well, I feel bad enough for whatever girl is stuck with the likes of you to say yes.”

Krista beemed. “Oh, thank you, Ymir!”

For a moment, Armin couldn’t believe it. He looked up in astonishment as Ymir whipped out her phone.

“Sunday morning?” she asked, and didn’t wait for a reply. “Sunday morning, 7am. Meet us in the school’s dance room, got it?”

“Y-Yes…!” he stammered, and then looked down at the scrap of paper she pressed into his hands.

“My number,” the girl said gruffly. “Text me if there’s a problem. Come on, Krista. We’ve got places to be.”

“See you on Sunday, Armin!” the blonde girl chirped, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek. Ymir growled in the background.

“Krista!”

“Coming!” Krista replied, then skipped off with one last wave to Armin.

And the poor boy was left to stare after them, wondering what, exactly, he had just gotten himself into.

... I suppose… he thought at last, with a resigned sigh, I just can’t stop getting into trouble… for the sake of Annie Leonheart.

Chapter Text

Armin lay awake for a long, long time the next morning, unable to fall back asleep despite the absurdly early hour. He turned the facts over and over in his mind, but each time he almost reached any type of conclusion, guilt made him shove it away.

I gave Annie every impression, if not an outright statement, that I wouldn't pry.

And he had been content not to... at least until the day before, when he had become absolutely certain that Reiner Braun also knew the big secret.

If even Reiner knows, certainly I'm entitled to at least that much?

And then there was the matter of the effort he was making- the effort to make himself worthy of someone like Annie. He had asked two near-perfect strangers for help with his romancing for her sake... and she wouldn't even extend him the small courtesy of honesty?

Armin waited patiently until he heard the sounds of a car leaving the driveway: Annie and Bertholdt, off with Mr. Hoover to look at reception locations. He glanced irritatedly at his phone, resting in silence on the bedside table.

Not even a text from her this morning…

His irritation dissolved into hurt, and then hurt to sadness. He shook his head, though, to dispel the negative emotions.

"If I'm lucky," he said aloud, "Reiner will still be here." If he knew the big secret, Armin was more than confident that he could wheedle and trick it out of him. I'll just talk him in circles until he's so mentally dizzy he can't remember what I'm supposed to know and what I'm not. He felt guilty about the plan, certainly, although he was feeling sufficiently dejected to all but erase that. With one last sore glance at his silent phone, he very deliberately left it in his room.

Remembering just how chilled the house tended to be so early in the morning, he put on slippers and a light housecoat over his pajamas before making his way downstairs. All was quiet, so he began his search in the most logical place he could think of: the kitchen.

"Reiner?"

There was no reply, but the kitchen did seem to be in use. There was a carton of eggs open on the counter, and a skillet already on the stove. Armin looked around, and then placed his good hand on his hip.

"Reiner?" he called, a bit louder. "Are you here? Hello!"

No reply. Perhaps he can't hear me because he's in the fridge...? The Hoovers did have an absurdly large walk-in refrigerator and freezer set, and Armin knew from experience that they were fairly soundproof. So he padded over to the refrigerator first, poking his head inside the chilled space.

"Reiner?"

No reply. So he tried the freezer. It was dimly lit inside and far colder than the refrigerator, and Armin shivered involuntarily as the cold air swept out around him.

"Reiner?"

There was a thunk from inside the freezer, making Armin bristle with surprise and muted fear. Cautiously he crept farther in, jumping slightly when the door snapped shut behind him. Shivering, he pulled his robe tighter around his shoulders.

"Reiner? Are you in here?"

Almost forgetting his original mission, Armin crept forward and peered into the deepest corner of the freezer. What he saw, of course, was not Reiner, but instead a frozen fish that had fallen from its hook. Sighing with irritation, he picked it up gingerly by the hook embedded in its tail.

"You scared me half to death."

The fish, of course, didn't reply, and Armin scowled slightly as he hung it back up beside its ice-encrusted brethren. Then he turned, coming to the conclusion that Reiner was not hiding in the freezer, and pushed back out the way he had come in.

Or at least, he tried to.

Brow furrowing, Armin pushed harder, and then groped along the cold metal in search of a handle or a latch. But there was nothing, only the smooth, icy surface.

Feeling panic begin to build in his chest, Armin pushed harder at the door. His feet slipped on the icy ground, and he scrabbled desperately for a moment before he lost his balance and fell awkwardly onto his knees. Gasping with pain and alarm, he reached back up along the unyielding metal.

"Reiner?! Reiner, are you there?! Reiner?!"

There was no reply. Feeling tears of panic spring to his eyes, Armin struggled back onto his feet and began again to search for any sort of latch.

"Don't most walk-ins have failsafes for things like this?!" he asked no one in particular, his breath billowing out around him. But soon his good hand was numb from searching, and concerns about frostbite convinced him to tuck it inside his robe. He shivered violently as it touched his skin, backing up slightly and crouching down into as small a ball as he could manage.

"I-Is anyone out there?" he whimpered, no longer even trying to make himself heard. Closing his eyes tightly against the tears threatening to overflow, he lowered his head and scooted back into the farthest corner of the freezer.

It took him a long moment, but eventually Armin forced his thoughts into a rational order. Worst case scenario, he decided, he would be trapped until late that night; Annie and the Hoovers had a dinner reservation at some gourmet beach shack. Before he could come to the logical conclusion that he would likely suffocate by that time, Armin pushed that thought from his mind.

While he couldn't do anything about his limited oxygen, he decided that he could probably do something about the cold. Wrapping his robe tighter around himself, he rose slowly and winced as the cold air rushed around him.

I-If I can scavenge some cardboard to make a pallet... i-it'll help… He could already feel the cold biting up through the thin soles of his house-slippers. Luckily, Reiner had no shortage of boxes in the freezer, and so he found some near-empty ones fairly quickly. He made himself a small nest of broken-down cardboard in the back corner of the freezer, then, and sat down, curling up as tightly as he could in an attempt to quell his shivering.

"That's... that's all I can... really do..." he whispered, watching as his steamy breath vanished in the cold. He glanced over at the fish hanging beside him, looking it dead in its iced-over eye. "I guess its just you and me, now...

"... I hope Reiner gets home soon."

... ... ...

Time ceased to make sense in the freezer. All Armin knew for certain was that his body temperature was dropping steadily, and that his head was beginning to feel strangely light. He had taken to rocking slightly back and forth, back and forth; the cold had seeped up through the cardboard he was sitting on, and every breath of chilled air burned in his dry throat.

"This is karma, isn't it?" he whispered eventually, turning once again to look at his frostbitten companion.

"You got it on the nose, kid," the fish replied. Armin felt his eyebrows arch with surprise, but he wasn't as alarmed as he probably should have been.

"I'm trapped because I came in here looking for Reiner, and I was looking for Reiner to trick him into telling me a secret, right?"

"Got it in one," the fish said, its frosty eye locked on him.

"Why are you talking to me?" It seemed like a logical question, as his breath billowed out around him with considerably less grandeur than it had several hours before.

"Because I'm the manifestation of your conscience."

"You're an auditory hallucination."

"That too."

Armin sighed, resting his chin on his knees. He was shivering hard; it was a good sign, he figured, that his body was still trying to fight off the cold.

"Am I going to die in here?"

"I only know what you know, kid. I'm your hallucination, remember."

"Big help you are."

Again Armin fell silent, although he kept stealing glances at the dead fish hanging beside him. And eventually he figured that, if he was going to die soon, he may as well take advantage of the company.

"What's it like to die?"

"What was it like for me?" the fish asked, and Armin nodded. "Well, I died because I gave into temptation. I was so focused on the worm that I didn't even see the hook."

"And I was so focused on my selfish desire to know..." Armin trailed off. He bit his chapped lip; lowered his head further. "... I deserve this."

"Hey, don't get too down on yourself," the fish said. "No one deserves to die so pathetically, suffocated and frozen in a walk-in freezer."

Armin smiled slightly. "Thanks. And I don't really think anyone deserves to be snatched out of the water and killed when they were just looking for a tasty snack."

"I appreciate it, kid."

... ... ...

"... I c-can't feel my t-t-toes."

"I feel your pain. I can't feel my fins."

If it wasn't for his weak shivering, Armin would have thought he was already frozen solid. He had an icy crust around his eyes, the remnants of his tears, and burying his nose in his knees had done little to keep it from going numb.

"I-I'm gonna d-d-die here... and all b-b-because I got it into my st-st-stupid h-head... to stick my n-n-nose where it d-d-d-didn't b-belong..."

"Karma can really bite you in the ass sometimes."

"Why c-c-c-couldn't I h-have j-j-just t-tr-trust--! Tr-trusted Annie...? She... I-I-I d-don't d-d-deserve h-her...! I-I... I c-c-could n-never... A-Annie...!"

"It sucks, kid. Love drives you to do crazy things, even betray the object of your love."

Burying his whole face in his knees, Armin felt his chest convulse with a sob. All he wanted, in that moment, was to feel Annie's arms around him; to see her one last time, just one last time before-

There was a sudden thud, and Armin's head shot up. He looked over at the fish questioningly.

"D-D-Did you...?!"

"Wasn't me, but I heard it."

Instantly Armin was scrambling to his feet, or at least trying to. As it was, his legs didn't appear to be there, never mind his feet, and he went crashing painfully to the cold metal ground. Managing to get to his knees, at least, he scrabbled toward the door, banging at it with his good hand.

"H-Hey...!" His voice was too hopelessly hoarse to raise above a whisper, but he tried anyway. He couldn't feel the heal of his hand thudding against the metal door, but he could hear the hopeful thumping it made, and so kept it up.

"H-Hey! Is someone in there?!"

Armin's heart soared. "A-Annie...! Y-Yes, Annie...! G-G-Get me out-t-t, p-p-please...!!"

The door opened. Armin wanted to close his eyes against the blinding light of the kitchen, but Annie was far too welcome a sight to look away from. He tried again to rise and again he failed; it didn't matter this time, for Annie knelt down and bundled him up into her arms.

"Dear god, Armin, what happened?!" she asked, rubbing his back briskly. He wrapped his arm around her neck, but his legs still wouldn't move as she lifted him up, holding him tightly to her chest.

"I-I-I...! Oh Annie...!" Armin found that he was crying too hard to answer her properly, the warmth and affection enveloping him overwhelming his senses. "I-I-I'm s-sorry, I'm s-so sorry, Annie...! I-I was l-looking for R-Reiner, a-and the d-d-door...!!"

"You're chilled to the bone," Annie said, striking a scolding-but-concerned tone. "Damn- I knew we should have gotten that handle fixed sooner. How long have you been in there?"

"A-Annie, I-I d-don't d-deserve t-to be s-saved...!" the boy continued to wail as loudly as his hoarse voice would allow him. "I-I went in there l-looking f-for Reiner... I-I w-was g-g-gonna... I was gonna...! K-K-Karma got me l-locked in, even the f-fish agreed...!!"

"Armin, I need you to calm down," Annie said, her voice reasonable but becoming strained. "You seem delusional; I need to know how long you were in the freezer."

"B-But Annie, I-I...! I-I have t-to tell you...!" Armin couldn't stop; he had to get it out, lest whatever karmic deity that had decided to spare him changed its mind. "I-I have to t-tell you... I was l-looking f-for... for R-Reiner to tr-trick him into... into t-telling me the tr-truth ab-bout your engagement! I-I'm s-so sorry, Annie, I'm so s-so-sorry...!!"

The girl paused, then huffed irritatedly and shifted her grip on him. "Well, I suppose I'll punish you for snooping later. Right now we need to get you warmed up and calmed down. Come on."

"I-I don't d-deserve you, Annie..." Armin whimpered it into her shoulder, impossible, disbelieving gratitude flooding through him. "I'll n-never deserve you..."

The girl, for her part, could only sigh and rub him briskly, trying to force some warmth into his flesh. She carried him dutifully over to a couch in one of the smaller, more private living rooms of the Hoover estate. He tried to cling to her, but was too weak to manage it as she set him down, bundling him up in a nest of pillows and blankets.

"A-Annie, my f-feet are on fire..." he complained mildly, fidgeting, but the girl only removed his ice-encrusted slippers and tucked the blankets tighter around him.

"That's a good sign, love," she said, and then kissed him on the tip of his nose. Her warm lips sent shivers of pleasure and relief through him. "I'm going to fix you some warm soup real quick," she whispered, her hot breath bathing his frosty face. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Armin nodded helplessly, stretching his neck up to try to follow her as she drew back. But then she was gone, and he was cold once again, left to shrink into his blankets as completely as he could manage. He drifted in and out of lucidity as his body slowly thawed out, and it seemed like mere moments before Annie had returned. He had recovered himself sufficiently, though, to feel ashamed of what he'd admitted to her, and he averted his eyes when she sat down next to him.

The girl sighed. "Armin, look at me." When he didn't respond, she took ahold of his chin and lifted it. "Look at me."

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but Armin blinked them away. "I'm sorry, Annie..." he whispered. "I don't even know if I would have gone through with it, I just-"

"Hush," the girl cut him off, pressing her fingers to his lips. "Hush. You're still shivering, if you haven't noticed. Eat your soup while its still hot."

Armin nodded wordlessly, letting her place the bowl in his lap. He couldn't hold the spoon steadily, though, and after two failed attempts she simply took it from his hand.

"Let me."

Feeling embarrassment like a red-hot lance, Armin submitted and opened his mouth. The warm soup tasted heavenly, the heat of it radiating out through his chilled throat and chest. After a few minutes, his shivering had calmed enough for him to be able to feed himself, and Annie let him take over.

"What time is it?" he asked finally. For some reason, he felt an undeniable curiosity about how long he had actually been locked inside the freezer.

"It's about 12:30 right now; I came home at a quarter to 12."

Armin thought back, with a concerted effort. "I... came downstairs at about eight..."

"So you were in there for almost four hours," Annie finished. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the forehead. "Did you learn your lesson about snooping?"

Armin felt a flush of heat in his face, and was momentarily relieved that his blood was running warm again. "I'm sorry."

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Annie said softly. "I don't really believe in karma, but don't tempt the fates."

Armin looked down. "I know... I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Annie murmured. "It's my fault, really, for keeping this secret from you."

"It's just-!" Armin began, but cut himself off. Annie scooted closer so that she could hold him to her, beginning to stroke his hair soothingly.

"Tell me. It's just what?"

"It's just that Reiner knows!" Armin blurted out. "And if Reiner knows, then why can't I?!"

"..." Annie didn't reply for a long moment, then kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry, darling. I can't even answer that. But Reiner... well, if Reiner didn’t know, this wedding wouldn't be happening at all."

“That isn’t an answer…” Armin muttered, burying his face moodily in her chest. The girl smiled a bit regretfully, knotting her fingers in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Armin… I’m sorry I’m asking you to go through this… for my own selfish desires.”

“‘So ‘kay…” Armin’s voice was muffled, and Annie laughed slightly. “I’s worth it.”

She rested her chin on the top of his head. “But next time I catch you prying, I’ll have to lock you in the freezer myself.”

“... Fair 'nough.”

Chapter Text

Reiner made fish for supper that night.

"Remind me to call about getting the freezer handle fixed," Annie said casually, and Bertholdt dropped his fork into his salad.

"I'll mess around with it tomorrow," Reiner said dismissively. "I'm just glad that Mr. Fubar is gone for the time being. No offense, Bertl."

"N-None taken..." the other boy replied, picking moodily at his food.

"Hey, Armin, you haven't touched your fish," Reiner pointed out, not harshly but curiously. "Want me to cut it for you? Whole fish can be a bit intimidating if you aren't used to them."

Armin only sunk slightly in his chair, his eyes still locked on the manifestation of his conscience sitting grilled on his plate, and shook his head.

Annie snorted with amusement.

"Do you not like fish?" Reiner asked, apologetic. "I didn't ask, I just assumed..."

"N-No, I-I like it fine...!" Armin replied quickly. "A-And I'm sure it's delicious, Reiner, I'm just... not feeling entirely well, that's all."

"Armin got himself locked in the freezer today," Annie informed the two boys, although Armin himself squeaked with objection. Reiner's eyes widened, and Bertholdt dropped his fork again.

"You what?!" Reiner demanded, standing up fast enough to make the whole table shudder. "Are you alright?!"

"I-I'm fine...!" Armin insisted, trying to sit up straighter. "I just... it... I mean...!"

"He started hallucinating at one point, as far as I can gather," Annie continued, over Armin's protests. "I think he was talking to the frozen fish at some point, so it must be a bit disturbing to see his finned friend prepared with parsley and lemon zest."

"Annie...!"

Reiner was instantly coming around the other side of the table. "That's awful! Armin, I'll make you something else, right now. What do you want?"

"I-I don't want anything...!” Armin protested, thoroughly flustered. “I-I'll eat the fish, I will...!"

"Nonsense!" Reiner insisted, leaning over and grabbing Armin's plate out from in front of him. "I know! I've got the perfect thing!" And then he was trotting for the kitchen, the other three staring after him with varying expressions.

"That was even more amusing than expected," Annie commented, returning to her own meal. Armin shot her an injured glance.

"Because it certainly wasn't humiliating already enough when just you knew. Why did you have to make a scene, Annie?"

"L-Let Reiner be. He just feels a bit guilty," Bertholdt put in. "H-He's the one who accidentally snapped off the interior handle of the freezer, a-after all."

"Really?" Annie asked playfully. "I recall that being your fault, Bertl."

The tall boy spluttered, dropping his fork again and breaking out into a sweat. "I-I... no...!"

Annie rolled her eyes, making a dismissive motion with her knife. "Fine, it was a combined effort from the both of you, alright?"

Armin sighed and lay his head down the table, no longer trying to follow the conversation. He was privately touched that Reiner would go to such lengths, and glad that he wouldn't have to force himself to choke down some of the fish. His body still felt a bit strange, but he knew that things could have turned out much worse if Annie hadn't come home when she had.

He just wondered, now, if he would keep his frostbitten promise not to pursue the truth behind Annie and Bertholdt's engagement. Such a promise had, at the time, seemed a small price to pay for his life, but now that he was no longer in peril... he wasn't so certain.

Thinking like that will most definitely get me locked in another freezer, he thought, giving himself a shake, or even worse this time!

Bertholdt and Annie were still engaged in some spirited, nuanced debate that went right over Armin's head, so he sighed again and snuggled down into the crook of his elbow on the table. It didn't seem as long a time had passed as probably had when Reiner returned, a bowl between his hot pad clad hands.

"I used some leftover vegetables to make a bit of beef stew this morning," he explained. "I had no idea what I'd use it for, but I bet it'll go down nicely right now."

Armin blinked up at him in gratitude. "Thanks, Reiner. How did you get to be so kind?"

The broad-shouldered boy blinked, taken aback, and then began to laugh heartily. "You're the first person who's ever asked me that, you know? I-I don't know how to answer that!"

Then it was Armin's turn to be confused. "H-How could I be the first to ask you that? You're one of the kindest people I've ever met!"

Bertholdt's eyes were shining as Reiner blushed, covering his mouth with one hand. "A-Armin..."

"He doesn't hear that often enough," Annie put in fondly. "Most people are too intimidated by him to know how sweet he really is."

Armin remembered, only vaguely, that he had been one of those foolish people not so long ago. But ever since he broke his arm, it had been difficult to look at Reiner as anything other than a knowledgeable and caring protector; awkward at times, but disarmingly sweet.

"Well, they obviously don't know him," Armin huffed.

"No, they don't," Bertholdt added, with an almost suspect amount of affection dripping from his voice.

Reiner held up his hands as if to ward off the words of his friends. "I-I... I-I'm going to go get d-dessert..." he stammered finally. "L-Let me know how you like the stew, Armin." And then he was gone, whisking out of the room and leaving Annie chuckling with amusement.

"I don't see how anyone could really be that scared of him!" Armin commented, and Annie's laughter ended in a snort.

"I can. He might be the sweetest teddy bear in the world, but you've never seen him when someone looks sideways at Bertl- or I." Armin nodded; now that he thought about it, that made sense. The girl began to chuckle again a moment later, though, and added, "Although for the few threats he's made, I don't think I've ever seen him follow through. I'm tempted to say he doesn't have it in him."

"I've seen it once," Bertl put in. "And a second after he punched the fellow, Reiner was treating his broken nose so that it wouldn't heal crookedly."

Armin laughed. "That sounds like him."

"Enough of this gossip," Annie said gently, nudging the blonde boy in the shoulder. "Eat your stew; Reiner will be disappointed if you don't."

And Armin of course nodded, tucking in and making a mental note to compliment the chef when he returned.