Work Text:
The morning sun strung light through the curtains like a bow with an arrow, illuminating the small room and causing embers of golden to float around with glee. There was distant blares of street cars and the passing-by traffic sounded from the heart of downtown (definitely not abnormal for a place like Brooklyn, New York), and solemn hymns of birds chirped haughtily. Laziness radiated throughout Mikasa’s bones as she felt herself slowly start to wake at the intruding noises—presumably the morning doves on the balcony as always—and she opened her eyes languidly.
There was a sort of murkiness in the air; perhaps a sort of oddness actually, and identifying this peculiar thing was not hard, as a matter-of-fact.
Turning onto her left side, Mikasa clashed into the force of something sturdy. It caused her to jump back farther than she would have liked to, and her heart was suddenly caught in her throat like a ring and a wire. Her grey stare was rather intrigued by the sight of Eren—her Eren—clad in nothing but his bare skin. She then watched in wonder for a moment in two, enraptured by the way in which his broad back fell and rose with sleep.
Mikasa had to pull away and pinch the skin between her thumb and pointer to ensure she was not dreaming. Her lips could only gape in utter shock. How was it that he, the boy she knew from as little as nine, now into the grown shape of a twenty-one year old man — how was it that he ended up in this dilemma with her at this very moment?
She had to pinch harder to recall an answer of her own.
But then she found it with a sharp gasp: the party last night, that taxi drive which seemed like eternity, her hand on his own in the backseat, their stupid friends ogling at them the entire time, Eren’s breathy whispers in the crane of her neck which left her so frazzled, and both of their drunken stupors which inevitably led them to her apartment.
Mikasa also remembered how she intended to sit him down on her couch and put him to rest for the night, but he latched onto her hand and hadn’t let go even when she pleaded, dragging half of her weight down to meet his face. The little wisps of his hair which untangled from his half bun fell into his face, causing a momentary mask, then suddenly cast away when his green eyes bore up into her stammering gaze. Eren mumbled something about wanting to keep her around – followed by how pretty she looked in the moonlight, the feeling of his warm palm on her cheek practically making her doll-like eyes water, and the agony between their lips trembled like a heartbeat.
He kissed her. Fucking finally. She’d wanted it for ages—ever since she saw him on that swing set in the park, running around with Armin when they were only kids, with little to say to him because she was such a blushing mess of a child.
It hadn’t even changed one bit. Mikasa sunk back into her comforter, bringing the yellow-knitted blanket up to her bare frame with wide eyes. A brief glance to her stomach and thighs granted the knowledge that Eren’s lips were indeed all over her last night, causing her heart to race with such splendour. She could only reach out for him in the given moment in gratitude.
What had occurred exactly? What had he been thinking last night?
Her feeble fingertips traced the arch of his back and drew circles lazily as she smiled.
Why the sudden change in heart?
She stopped her little escapade.
Eren drew in a low grunt as he awoke and shifted in his spot, reaching a sloppy arm behind him to softly swat away at the disturbance. “‘Tickles,” he muttered quietly.
Mikasa snorted lowly, and then with the sudden realization that Eren had been turning to face her, swatted both hands to her mouth to shut up. Met with his intruding stare, she blushed profusely as he pursed his lips to stop himself from releasing a shy smile. Eren’s darkened locks fell into the stoic arches of his brows and cascaded into the glimmer of his green eyes, handsome face beckoning with a blush in the morning sunlight.
”Good morning,” his voice was groggy and deep, noticeably scratchy from the early hours of the day.
”M-Morning,” she gave him a meek nod.
Eren’s longing gaze studied the woman next to him in an incomprehensible manner only he could understand. Something about the way those wide eyes murky with a glimmering silver made his chest ache with warmth, and the porcelain beauty of her face made him want to her kiss her once again as if it were the only thing he knew how to do in all his years of living.
How odd it was, he thought, that a single drunken night caused him to realize so many things about a girl he never gave a chance to.
But Eren Yeager was not completely oblivious, you see. He knew of Mikasa—that headstrong, quiet girl who watched out for him in the days of their youth, pulling him back when he lost his temper at other kids. Or when she readily stitched up his bloody knee at the park after that freak accident; and when she held him in a tight hug hours on end on his fourteenth birthday, right after he broke down in tears when he told her that his parents were suddenly divorcing.
He also recalled how she’d repeatedly warn him about certain people in junior year that he affiliated himself with, and he ultimately pushed her away like she was an idiot when she had endlessly mothered him out of care and kindness.
Oh, to think he was the idiot then—was an understatement to say the least. The pair of them drifted off a couple years after that; left to study majors in a large city and completely lost in adolescent rage. Eren knew through friends that she’d taken a path in liberal arts and Armin said something along the lines that she ‘was at the top of her class’ one Saturday afternoon at his house (which didn’t surprise Eren one bit in all honesty, as she was quite the intelligent individual).
In the midst of his own studies, it never dawned upon him how much he missed her or needed her around to pester at his reckless ways.
And yet, she was here now and before him like the moon in the sky as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her sudden beauty took him for surprise last night at the party: naturally short hair reduced to a pixie cut which left raven strands to fall in those sparkling eyes, and beautifully toned body clad in a black dress like a contrast to her milky skin. Mikasa had batted her lashes up to him with the gaping of her red lips, looking at Eren as if he were the only one in the room as she sipped on her cheap liquor. It stole his breath completely for hours; made him melt into dust.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked kindly.
She nodded, obviously still embarrassed as her eyes averted to the swooping v-line of his stomach and looked up, well at least tried to, into his questioning face. Mikasa could feel his longing touch as his hand reached for hers, the soft pattering of his fingertips on the inside of her palm, and they stayed for a moment or two. Something in her couldn’t believe the situation still: that somehow the man she always fancied was in her bed and looking at her so adoringly.
Mikasa sat up suddenly, pulling away from Eren’s gentle grasp. He blushed profusely at her naked frame when she stood from the covers, shy eyes turning away, and she searched around for fresh clothes in her bedroom drawers. Deciding to go with a pair of black shorts and a sleeveless white tank top, she slipped them on with ease, turning to him with a timid glance.
”I’ll be in the kitchen,” Mikasa affirmed, closing the door halfway before leaving the room.
The sounds of downtown Brooklyn were humming noisily as she entered the walkway of the kitchen island, nonchalantly reaching to twist the nob of her little-station radio perched on top of the nearby wooden shelf. Music softly played from it, and Mikasa began to assemble ingredients and pantry items for breakfast. She placed eggs, sugar, butter, flour, cinnamon, yeast, icing sugar, and cream cheese on the marble counter; steadily counting how many bowls she would need.
Something about this: a comfortable Sunday morning, sun rays shooting from the nearby open window in the midst of June while she assembled breakfast for her and Eren – made her heart dance completely beyond words. Mikasa wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t appeal to the domesticity of it all, the idea of her and him stuck in an apartment almost everyday a fathomable dream she’d had since she was a kid. She then wondered if he’d be reluctant to this sort-of dream, but perhaps there was slight hope considering how things turned out for them since the discourses of last night.
”Whatcha’ making?” Eren’s sudden voice caused Mikasa to jump as she was kneading the dough with her hands, his chin resting atop her shoulder blade as he peered down curiously.
Her throat formed a lump at the feeling of his warm torso pushed into her sturdy back, his big hands on her waist. He smelt like gin and tonic and peppermint all at once; surely enough to make her go mad when she glanced up to him and his bright eyes creased at the corners when he shot her an uncharacteristic smile.
”Oh, uhm, cinnamon rolls,” she murmured. “Y’know, the ones my mum always used to make?”
Eren nodded, face lighting up in reminiscence. “I always used to love those growing up.”
”Well, hopefully you’ll like mine.” Mikasa shrugged, reaching to grab butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon for the filling. “May not be the best, but I suppose you can be my taste-tester in this instance.”
He clung to her for a minute or two, appreciating the way her chest rose and fell in steady rhythms in the absence of their voices. Eren liked, no, loved this feeling: watching his favourite girl bake with an apparent blush due to the weight of him, trying so hard to concentrate on these supposed cinnamon rolls which ought to be delicious because he knew Mikasa was so attentive to everything she learned from family. It was like only yesterday that he was sitting at her mother’s kitchen table with Armin, watching a younger Mikasa bake by herself with ease.
It was something Eren always admired about her: she was simply brilliant at everything she did if she truly wanted to be.
He then broke away, turning his body to lean up against the kitchen sink on the right of her. Entranced by the way she was stirring in an almost hurried manner, he was suddenly taken aback when she turned to him with wide eyes and a pointer finger covered in icing.
”Wanna try some?” she asked, smiling shyly.
Eren could feel the tips of his ears burning, but he nodded nonetheless, and opened his mouth in a silent plea. His warm tongue encompassed her skin and sucked the sweetness off of it with a ‘pop’ and he could almost laugh at her trembling stature as she pulled away hastily. Mikasa put the bowl aside whilst muttering incoherently to nobody, then she excused herself before coming back with a big tray from the pantry room.
The nearby wall clock ticked and Eren’s eyes glossed over the sparse room. The walls were painted a nice white-cream colour, and domestic plants hung from the windowsills like vines where the sun shone brightly, wooden table assembled to hold her favourite variety of flowers—campanulas, Eren duly noted—and collages of pictures from magazines and photographs taped to wherever she found empty spaces in the apartment.
Something about it all made his chest feel warm as if he were meant to be in the comfort of this place.
“You have your own place I’m guessing?” Mikasa had started to cut the rolls of dough evenly amongst the tray, looking up into the man’s eyes.
”Yeah, by Union Avenue,” Eren nodded. “I’ve had it for a couple years now.”
“Living with anyone then?”
”Oh, no. Not at all.”
She wouldn’t lie and say that didn’t make her internally beam with some sort of satisfaction, and by the mere emptiness of the apartment Eren could gladly think the same of her.
By the time that Mikasa put the cinnamon rolls in the oven to bake it was past ten ‘o clock. She had begun to clean the counters covered in flour and sugar, Eren also making himself useful by washing the dirty pantries as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Both of their eyes averted to their obligated duties and she then just realized how tall he had truly gotten over the years she hadn’t seen him — he was probably around six feet in comparison to her own high stature.
Mikasa placed the dishes in the overhead cupboard, watching almost as if she were punch drunk at how Eren’s jaw tensed and how the strands of his lengthy locks fell back from his tied hair as he reached for the bowl of leftover icing.
He divulged a finger into it, reaching to grab her jaw gently with one hand and teasingly painted her nose in sugar with the other.
She flinched, scrunching her face in what seemed like disapproval. “What was that for?”
Eren leaned forward to kiss the icing off the tip of her nose, letting his tongue poke out against her soft skin for a moment. He heard Mikasa gasp in surprise and cower away with an awful beet red blush, his loud chuckles bouncing off the walls of the kitchen. Calloused hands outstretched in a plea to grasp her face again, this time holding her extra delicately as if she were a doll, his bright eyes peering down into her silver ones.
The silence nearly killed both of them; Eren wallowing mentally at the image of her pretty face in the morning light and Mikasa trembling in anticipation as he grinned.
”You still have this scar,” he then murmured softly, thumb of his left hand brushing over the once-gaping cut on her right cheek.
“Mhm,” she hummed.
”I still remember the day you got it. You fell on your face right in that park we always used to go to as kids – and you barely cried because your pain tolerance was always freakishly high even for a child who was bleeding non-stop. Don’t think you ever told me how it exactly happened though..”
Mikasa reached up to grasp onto Eren’s wrists with both hands, averting her gaze to the floor.
”I was chasing you. That’s how.”
He laughed.
“Ah. Makes sense. It seems like you were always chasing me somehow.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip with her teeth before looking back up at him, heart thumping in her chest sporadically, and her eyebrows furrowed in sudden wonder.
”Did you really hate me, Eren?” Mikasa’s eyes dulled into a certain sadness he could not fathom.
Eren’s heart immediately dropped, face slackening to serious intent. He could see the hurt behind her glimmering eyes—almost if she were about to cry in the given moment—and he reached forward to pepper kisses amongst her forehead.
”No. Never. I- I could never hate you. I mean that. I was such a stupid kid then, okay? I had no clue what I was doing or saying and I was absolutely idiotic when I said that shit to you,” his voice sounded heavy as it wavered against her skin insistently, “I think I just wanted to feel big and strong but.. I don’t think a seventeen year old boy was capable of doing that without his best friend who happened to be right all along.”
She sniffled softly and the brim of her nose, once covered in icing, was now pink from the tears that slipped down her rosy cheeks. Eren wiped them away with such urgency she almost wanted to laugh.
”That’s good to hear.”
”I’m so sorry, Mikasa, I mean that,” he shook his head again, this time bringing her head to rest into his bare chest as if he were cradling a child, “—and you don’t know how guilty I felt when I saw you the other day. All grown up – yet so, so beautiful in my eyes. ‘Makes me forget how much I missed seeing your face after all those years. And I swear, when Jean started flirting with you I nearly threw my shot glass at his face.”
She finally let out a hearty laugh, clinging onto the back of his strong forearms. “I was never looking at him in the first place.”
Eren cocked his head down to look at the woman, her own neck craned to look up at him as he softly rocked the two of them back and forth.
”Hm, then who were you looking at?” he teased.
Mikasa blushed with a frown, eyebrows creased as he forged an answer from her. “..Only you.”
He let out a noise of triumph before kissing all over face, embarking adorable giggles from her as he found a ticklish spot on her neck. Eren relished the smell of flowers and perfume on her skin despite her having a night of sex and liquor; the apparent mental innuendo causing his face and stomach to burn with indescribable warmth. The oven suddenly rang out, interrupting their little interaction, and Mikasa broke away to retrieve the cinnamon rolls from the heated compartment.
Eren (reluctant as he was relishing for affection again) helped her assemble the tray and cutlery onto the square-like table, Mikasa following shortly behind with two mugs of piping hot peach tea. They sat in front of one another, finally enjoying their breakfast in silence and in the comfort of one another with the distant booming of the city and nearby radio. She reached forward to take ahold of Eren’s treat to coat it in frosting with a butter knife—which he allowed her to do for once—and handed it back to him as he then took a bite.
”Tastes good?” Mikasa questioned, bringing up the steaming mug to her lips to blow on it.
”’Mm perfffect,” Eren nodded.
She suppressed a beam, taking a cautionary sip of her tea before placing it down on the complementary saucer. Leaning upon her right palm, she watched with intent as Eren ate and reminded her of their childhood together. His eyes were sparkling with youthful demeanour, corner of his lips coated in icing as Mikasa then reached forward with a napkin to wipe at his mouth gently.
”I think we should address the elephant in the room.”
Eren quirked a brow, bringing his teacup to his mouth. “What elephant–?”
”We had.. sex last night,” she interrupted boldly, watching as his face resorted to a pink hue and he nearly choked on his sip of tea. Eren began to cough abruptly, nodding his head as Mikasa averted her eyes awkwardly to the ground.
There was a moment of silence between the two, and Eren then sat up straighter in his chair before patting at his thigh.
“C’mere,” he gestured her towards him, holding out an arm, and she took it, stumbling in his hold before she situated herself comfortably in his lap. Eren wrapped his arms around her, snuggling her close, and Mikasa shivered as she felt his breath feverishly brush up the back of her neck and the roughness of his pant-clad thighs rubbed against the skin of her exposed legs.
She was practically straddling him, leaning down to peer intently at his handsome face in the dim sunlight of the kitchen.
”Hm?” Mikasa nibbled on her cheek, watching as Eren collected his thoughts.
”I was going to say that I don’t regret what we did at all yesterday,” he spoke awfully soft. “I know that.. it was ironic timing and whatnot; but it was perfect in my mind. Even if we were a bit drunk and distant—it still happened despite everything, so it must’ve been right. Do you agree?”
She nodded, daring to reach her fingertips and entangle them within the locks of his disheveled hair. Touching him like this made her want to touch him always, Mikasa mused, and she reached down to press her lips to his ear-level.
”Did you.. really mean what you said last night?” she whispered.
She could feel Eren stiffen under her touch, her stomach rolling in anticipation. The grasp on her waist tightened considerably, and he pulled her back to have her look directly into his longing gaze, his roughened fingers reaching up to grasp at her chin and jaw. The silver in her eyes burned feverishly into the starkness of green; both of their lips licking in excitement.
”Of course,” he spoke simply. “I love you.”
She nearly withered in his grasp, heart reverberating like a thousand echoes into the void of her very chest. His words—his love consumed her, making her feel profusely alive and well—Mikasa suddenly reborn again as if she hadn’t known it was possible in the first place.
”I think the same of you,” she blushed shyly. “I have for a very long time.”
Eren went practically red in the face as well, taking both of her hands to his mouth to kiss the insides of her palms lovingly.
”I want so much of you,” he admitted for the first time in his life. “I want.. every Sunday morning like this—with you, baking cinnamon rolls and making peach tea, just so we could be alone and enjoy it together. And I want to wake up beside you everyday in that bed just like I did today. I want to be stuck with you like when we were kids; I want to run around in the city with you; I want to go to parties with you just so you could sit in my lap, like this, and show assholes like Jean you’re my girl. And I want to do it all because I love you.”
Mikasa’s eyes were brimming with tears, sparkling so wide and doe-eyed. She felt as if she were on top of the world, heart thumping so quickly she swore she could’ve seen stars in the moment. Eren clutched her face and she nodded with a beam, his lips catching hers in a hungry kiss.
His careful fingers threaded into the soft tangles of her raven hair, suckling the sweet icing of sugar and cinnamon from her tongue. She whimpered into his mouth as she drove her hands into the broadness of his shoulders, beckoning from the intensity of his affection. Eren pulled a way after a moment or two, hand surfacing up the column of her neck to then grasp at her nape, tenderly pushing Mikasa’s head down to his own so he could face her while she caught her breath.
”’Love you too,” she panted. “So much.”
With a heavy but content sigh she then rested her nose into the crook of his neck, languidly drawing circles into the skin of his collarbones. Eren kept his steady grasp on her, reaching to poke a finger in his cinnamon roll’s icing before bringing it up to her nose once more, making her shake her head with a giggle, and he nipped the sweet off her skin before they broke out into hysterics of laughter.
And the day went on like the two of them always knew.