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it is a subtle waking, the nightmarish sleep that haunts him behind his eyelids.
his body runs cold and his face crinkles from forehead to nose, brows tugging together in pain and frustration. and, if he lets it go on long enough, silent tears will seep down into the pillow until he’s hurtling himself forward into the land of the living.
“levi,” your voice is a distant ringing in his ear, and his knuckles find a comforting place tugging on the strands of hair he can find in his furious ministrations. shallow breaths make his lungs shudder, but he does not fall apart entirely.
captain levi is not made of mere rubble. no, he is a strong foundation with a sturdy stone structure, practically impervious in every single way.
he turns his hips so he can rest his bare feet on the floor, finding solace in something solid. a gulp rakes across the front of his throat and he grits his teeth, barely turning his head so he can catch a glimpse of you to tether himself back to earth, “i’m fine. i’ll be back in a moment.”
as his footsteps fade, you contemplate on whether or not you should interrupt him. an introspective few minutes spent brewing tea and trying to forget his evening horrors will not keep him from you forever. you know he needs this time to decompress and remind himself that what he sees once he’s succumbed to sleep is not necessarily what he will find when he wakes.
his side of the bed has not had time to turn cold before the gentle padding of his feet have made their way back to your shared room. he sets down one mug of tea and then offers you a second, eyes still hidden from your view. you reach for it regardless, whispering a small thanks before taking the first sip.
levi wordlessly climbs back into bed, slipping beneath the sheets in a meticulous way that has your heart growing fonder, just as it always has when he does the most mundane of tasks. you have to bite your lip to keep your grin from growing, and you tuck your knees up into your chest and press your cheek to your thigh to watch him as he gulps down a few ounces of his own brew.
it takes a moment, as it always does, for levi’s right arm that isn’t preoccupied with his teacup to raise up over where your head would be if you were close enough to him against the headboard. as you maneuver closer to his side, he angles his elbow just right so your frame can press into his side. the curve of your palm finds his bare torso and your cheek is pushed into his pectoral, and you revel in the way he allows your body to leech from his obscene warmth.
he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as you burrow your nose into smooth muscle, eyes screwed closed as a hum sits threatening in your throat. levi lowers his palm to your shoulder once you’ve settled and the familiarity of his fingertips is intoxicating.
brushing your thumb over the dips of his abdomen, your small voice breaks the quiet, “i’m sorry life haunts you even at night.”
“s’all right,” and he means it, and you know he does, “sometimes we don’t get to choose our demons.”
you tilt your head so you can look him in the eyes, barely able to see those gunmetal irises over the sharp arch of his cheekbone, “i’d protect you, if i could. even though you don’t need me.”
the phrase seems to offend him, but he doesn’t linger on it. rather, he takes another drag of his beverage and the porcelain clinks against the bedside table when he’s decided he’s through. you watch the underside of his tongue peek from between his teeth to wet his lips and catch any of the herbal drink that remains out of place. your thighs shift against one another as you shuffle inward, the very essence of your body begging to be interwoven with him closer still.
“we’ll protect each other,” levi counters, squeezing your bicep for but a fleeting second, “that’s what family does.”
family is but one word you would use to describe the bond you two have built throughout blistering days and frozen nights. losing teammates to the carnage of war will bring two lonely people together, but there is still something more that cements you to one another that you can’t quite place, but don’t bother drilling into. some things are merely meant to be accepted.
you and levi are just one of those things.
“you’re my family,” your voice is distant when you repeat his sentiment, palm flat along his obliques now. you aren’t lying, not in every sense of the word. any shred of family you had left in the form of blood has long since been erased from existence. levi, and your squad, are the only ones close enough to consider as family anymore.
he presses his nose to your temple and you feel the warmth of his kiss near the top of your cheek. when he exhales, it tingles your scalp and you can’t help it when your eyelids flutter closed. hitching your knee, you lift your leg so you can entwine yourself around him completely, at every juncture. and when you turn your face, your mouth finds the curve of his jaw and it seems second nature to purse your lips and kiss the tanned, soft underside of his neck.
his husky tone makes your insides burst into flame when he speaks plainly, “and you’re mine.”
levi’s palm dips between your shoulder blades, massaging at the tense muscles until you relax, your body completely pliant alongside his more rigid frame. he chuckles when you groan, struggling to keep your eyelids open despite the lack of conversation. fear plagues you in moments like these, when you realize it may be the last time you see him this relaxed, or this close. you want to memorize every feature of his while you still have the chance.
“rest now,” he says like he can read your mind, and you fear for him if he can, “i’ll be here in the morning.”
“and if you’re not?” your voice is laced with worry, wavering on the edge of frightened. you mask it with a shiver of your shoulders, the curling of your body closer into his central heat. absentmindedly, or in full intent, he brings you in tighter and runs his palms along your torso and arms. whether your skin begins to simmer from the contact or the proximity, you’re not sure, but either way you don’t want it to end.
levi chuckles, burying his nose in your hair yet again before he presses a menagerie of kisses to the crown of your head, “then i’m probably taking a shit.”
the dry humor distracts you from the pain of reality, and you thank him for that in the form of laughter. you cinch yourself closer, until two become one, and fall asleep without moving again. and when you wake the next morning, levi’s arm still curled around your shoulders and his chin tucked above your head, you hear him whisper in a voice so small you might not have heard it if it weren’t for the eerie quiet of the rest of the world:
“still here.”