Work Text:
The sudden blast of icy, recycled air blowing right through your spot breaks your concentration.
It is already cold to begin with at Café Sina, and you have been freezing your ass off for almost an hour. The iced americano on the coaster beside your phone taunts you. Your half-finished drink may not be the smartest decision on your part, but it is the cheapest thing on the menu. Everything is more expensive in the Capital.
Your phone buzzes again.
Yelena [2:24PM]
- i’m sorryyy, i’ll make it up to you next time
- i swear
You [2:26PM]
- it’s fine
- i had stuff for work to catch up on anyway
You do not get a reply after that. Not surprising, since this isn’t the first time this has happened with Yelena. She planned a day out with you and Pieck at the city center to treat yourselves and get drunk at the new bar that just opened. Pieck had to take a rain check and backed out yesterday because she needed to bring her father to the hospital. You helped and coordinated transfer, reassuring her and making sure she had everything she needed. But Yelena insisted that you still accompany her to a day in the Capital.
“Same old, same old,” you mutter under your breath as you try to get back to your reading.
Try. You swear that the baristas are making the café colder on purpose to get you to leave. The place is packed, and you stick out like a sore thumb in a shirt and a pair of shorts, while everyone else ranges from business-casual to bespoke suits and designer clothing. Jesus, even their sweaters had to have a giant “Prada” embroidered on the chest.
You really hate the snobs from the city center. Work this week has been killing you, and you put off laundry day to go out with Yelena. Not your fault that you were out of clothes that these people would not judge.
“Do you mind sharing?”
The voice is gruff, and the tone is strained. Looking up from your tablet, you are met with the sight of a short, dark-haired man holding a steaming mug of tea. He looks a little angry and tired, and he clearly does not want to do this, but every other table is full.
You shake your head and gesture to the empty seat in front of you.
He mutters his thanks and sets his drink down before taking out his laptop. You ignore each other, and that works perfectly for you. At least you’ll have an excuse to stay longer and get more work done once you finish your drink. Perks of sharing with a stranger.
You actually get about two more hours of productive reading before your phone vibrates on the table. The surly stranger spares you a glance when he hears you curse at the caller ID before you answer.
King Fritz is a famous neurologist who has many admirers from the Capital all the way to the outskirts of Wall Rose. He has also been on your shit list ever since he gave that talk about primary care back when you were still in medical school. It is clear that the man is in it for the money and the fame that came with his practice. The irony that he is actually named “King” is not lost on you. He still does work in the more rural districts to butter up his image—the only reason why he is the attending for your service this month.
“No, sir, I didn’t give any insulin before we got the stat labs,” you explain, pulling up the files on your tablet. You aren’t sure why the hell he was calling you about a patient who has already been discharged. And on your day off too.
“We were able to stabilize her once we started fluids,” you say, skimming through the old chart. “She’s a newly diagnosed diabetic—yes, type 1 and–no, her parents—”
You suppress a sigh when he cuts you off again, listening to him ramble about how they did things back in the old days. You can feel someone watching you as you mumble a bunch of “yes, sir’s” and “alright, sir’s” as you wait for this pointless conversation to end.
When he finally hangs up, you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. You catch those dark grey eyes now openly staring at you.
“What?”
You are not in the mood for any more condescending bullshit.
“Nothing,” he answers, taking a sip of tea. “Just didn’t think you were wor—”
“Do I look like an idiot?” you snap, not letting him finish.
“No, you look like a college freshman,” he says bluntly.
Your mouth goes slack.
“It’s the Animal Crossing t-shirt.” There is a hint of amusement in his voice as he eyes Isabel and Tom Nook on your shoulder.
“Yeah, well, it’s been a busy week, and I’m doing laundry tomorrow,” you mutter, grabbing your watered-down drink to take the last few sips.
“Intern?” he asks.
“Resident,” you say, smirking when surprise flashes once more on his face. “First year, internal medicine. You?”
“Third year. Why'd you get a call on your day off?”
“Attending is a prick who needs people to fan his ego,” you say. “Never understood the hero-worship for Fritz, that man is not that great.”
You swear he almost smiles.
“Are you in surgery?” You just really need to ask. You could not quite pinpoint what he took up.
He squints at you as you give him a lazy smile.
“You know you kind of have those vibes.”
His nose scrunches in distaste. Not a surgeon then.
“Neurology,” he corrects, shutting his laptop down.
Well.
“Shit.”
Every single neurologist you’ve ever met is either a Fritz admirer or fanatic. You really need to keep your filter in place.
“Can you forget that I ever mentioned him,” you say as you press your palms into your eyes. “I don’t need to hear you wax poetry or lecture me in his defense.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” he says, reaching for his mug of cold tea.
“Listen, I know that you guys love to suck his dick—”
“I’m sure I hate him more than you do.”
That shuts you up abruptly. You sincerely doubt that there are actual people who hold more hatred for Fritz than you. Ymir and Annie maybe, but most people more or less fell for Fritz’s bullshit. Huh, maybe there is hope for some.
“Do you work here in the Capital?” he asks.
“No,” you scoff. “I’m training at Trost District Hospital.”
The way he holds his mug is distracting you a little.
“I’m not on call today. A friend insisted we hang out here, but she didn’t show up,” you say, explaining how you ended up freezing in the midst of Café Sina. “Coffee here isn't even good enough to be this overpriced.”
“That’s at least an hour’s commute.”
“Longer,” you say, packing your tablet away. “Train to the city center’s under maintenance. I had to pay for fucking Uber and the city traffic made for one very expensive ride.”
You’re mentally calculating how much you saved from your day out that you could deposit into your savings when your stomach grumbles. The old white woman next to your table wearing what you have dubbed as “the obnoxious Prada sweater” gives you a very disapproving look.
“Did you skip lunch?”
“No,” you say, holding up the empty plastic cup. “I had an iced americano.”
Surly neurologist shakes his head.
“Come on,” he says, slipping his laptop into his bag. “I know a good place in Utopia District. And I can give you a ride home.”
“Wha—hey, we might hate the same prick a—I’m not even sure you actually do, but I don’t even know you,” you retort, bringing out your phone.
“Levi.”
You stare at him expectantly. Did he really think that would be enough?
He sighs and digs his wallet out then he all but shoves his driver’s license in your face.
Levi Ackerman. Born on Christmas Day. His address being somewhere in Karanes piques your interest.
“No offense, but you look like you’re from around here,” you say. His polo and slacks really do make him fit into the dress code at the city center.
“Can I send this to a friend?” you ask, holding the plastic card up. This is one of your litmus tests to weed out the creeps. You’ve been told that it was a bit overboard, but one could never be too careful these days.
Surprisingly, he only nods once. You snap a picture and send it to Pieck.
Pieck Finger [5:04 PM]
- who
- what are you doing
- he looks mad but he’s cute
- how does he look cute in an id picture
You [5:05 PM]
- yelena bailed
- shared a table with this dude at a rich people café
- he offered to drive me home
- and get dinner i think
Pieck Finger [5:05 PM]
- what does he dooooo
- i’m pinning his address on the map
- i really need to talk to yelena about doing that
You [5:06 PM]
- he’s a resident too but like
- 3rd year
Pieck Finger [5:06 PM]
- does he like fritz
- you’ve been rotating with fritz for a week
- but even i know how much you hate that guy
You [5:07 PM]
- he hates fritz…?
- so he can’t be that bad
Pieck Finger [5:07PM]
- oh my god say yes
- text me every hour or two!!
- when you get home, i expect a picture
You smile fondly at her overprotective nature. Pieck has been one of your closest friends, and you’ve gotten even closer ever since you finally got your medical license and have been pulling whatever strings there were to get her father the treatment he needed.
“You coming?” Levi pushes his chair back and rises. His hand goes to rub out the crick in his neck.
You follow suit, nodding as you return his license.
“I could eat.”
The good place he was talking about is a small barbeque place owned by the sweetest grandmother you have ever met. Its sign is faded and easily missed, but the aroma of grilling meat was enough to mark its spot.
“How did you even find this place,” you ask as you swallow another lettuce wrap filled with beef and kimchi.
Levi is turning a slab of pork belly currently sizzling on the grill in front of you.
“Grew up dirt-poor, so we always stuck to the cheapest places and small family businesses around,” he says, picking up the pair of giant scissors resting on the tray. “Those are the best places anyway."
You look at him thoughtfully, nodding and chewing in agreement.
"That, and a friend liked dragging us to their little adventures.”
“Why doesn’t Trost have anything this good,” you lament.
“The markets in Trost have the cheapest produce,” he counters. “And there are a few places I’d go out of my way for over there.”
“Seriously?”
“Saved me a lot back while I was still studying. Hange having a car was a bonus.”
“This the friend?”
Levi nods.
“Did they also pick neurology?”
“No,” he exhales something that sounds like a laugh. “They’re in emergency med and doing research on the side. Four-eyes has an MD-PhD.”
Your mouth hangs open. The old lady saves you a little embarrassment when she approaches your table.
“I have the rice,” she announces, her hand reaching for the scissors.
Levi really does smile this time, handing the utensils over and sitting back, allowing her to work her magic on the grill and whip up the most mouth-watering fried rice you have ever seen.
“You’re drooling,” he says before he snags some beansprouts to put on his rice bowl.
“How can you not,” you say, mouth half-full with warm fried rice and pork. “I’d happily die for this.”
“Dramatic,” he says once he’s swallowed a spoonful of rice and grilled pork belly, “but understandable. Hange is worse than you are.”
“Your friend sounds like a genius who has everything together.”
“Smartest person I know and probably the most respectable one with that many titles at the end of their name,” he says. “Still pretty wild.”
“Do they work where you do?”
He nods. “Karanes Care Center.”
“How’d you end up in the Capital this afternoon?”
“Had to attend a conference that Fritz held.” He has a sour look on his face.
“Okay, I’ve never met a neurologist who dislikes the guy, much less hates him,” you say.
“He’s full of himself and actually believes he’s some public health expert for the outer cities,” Levi says, picking up his cup of water.
Well, this is interesting.
“Comes from old money, thinks what works for the rich will work for the rest, and acts like he’s some godsend while never contributing anything helpful.”
“Can’t say I expected that from you,” you say, “but you nailed it.”
Levi arches a brow as he munches on a piece of pickled radish.
“I don’t know how he has such a good image," you whine. "Doesn’t anyone else see through him?”
“He probably has a PR team.”
That makes you laugh.
“I’ve only been working with him for a week, and it has been the longest week of my life,” you complain. “God, to think there are three more to go.”
“I’m in the same field as him and his loyal dogs,” Levi says. “I’ve learned to tune out their load of crap.”
You snort at his quip.
“Can’t exactly act out,” Levi says with a resigned look.
“System is a hierarchy; he will fuck you over if you do,” you say, patting his hand in sympathy.
Levi pays for dinner.
“I can afford fifteen bucks, you know,” you say, pointing your wallet at him. The barbecue place is an all-you-can-eat spot for an astonishingly cheap price.
“Are you really going to turn down free dinner after that Uber?” he asks.
“Mmm, no,” you say, tucking the leather purse back into your bag. “I will be bringing my best friend back here though, this place is amazing.”
The drive back to Trost is quiet and comfortable. You are doing your best not to doze off after such a hearty dinner. Thankfully, the roads in the outer cities at night are a lot less crowded.
“ Here ?”
Levi has his car parked in front of a convenience store next to a dark subway entrance. The street lights are flickering. Some aren’t lit at all.
“Yup,” you say. You live three blocks away, and he does not need to know that.
“It’s dark, and you’re walking home alone from here?”
“I’m not about to let you drop me off at my place exactly.”
“Fair. How far is it?”
“About a ten-minute walk.”
“Fine.” He sighs. “Give me your phone.”
“What for?” You hand it over anyway.
“My number,” he mutters, typing away. “Text me when you get home so I know you didn’t die on the way.”
“Relax,” you say. “I walk home from this station after all of my shifts.”
You sling your bag over your shoulder.
“Thank you,” you say softly, suddenly shy after half a day of bickering with the surly neurologist. “I really appreciate this.”
“Don’t die.”
You exit his car with a smile. In ten minutes, you are unlocking your door and pulling up your phone to update Pieck.
You [9:57PM]
- one image attached
- hoooome
Pieck Finger [9:57PM]
- you were not texting at all
- i was about to call at 10
You [9:58PM]
- dinner was too good
- i need to go back
- i’ll take you there on my next free day
Pieck Finger [9:58PM]
- was it just dinner :>
- how was one levi ackerman
You [9:59PM]
- oh shit
- i gotta text him wait
You forgot about that, fingers fumbling to start a new message
You [9:59PM]
- i am alive
Levi Ackerman [9:59PM]
- you forgot, didn’t you
You [10:00PM]
- i did NOT
Levi Ackerman [10:01PM]
- thought you died in those three minutes
You [10:01PM]
- focus on driving, you little shit
You open Pieck’s messages once you hit send. The surly neurologist should still be driving. Karanes is about half-an-hour away.
Pieck Finger [10:00PM]
- oh my god you got his number??
- text him what
- i am invested
You [10:03PM]
- it’s not what you think
- he drove me home
- well drove me to the station
Pieck Finger [10:04PM]
- :>
- :"">
You [10:05PM]
- pipe down
- he just asked me to text once i got home
Pieck Finger [10:05PM]
- and now you have each other’s numbers
You [10:06PM]
- good night, pieck finger
Pieck Finger [10:06PM]
- i’ll be waiting on that dinner date
You toss your phone down onto your bed, smiling at Pieck’s teasing. Pieck likes to poke fun at your dating life. You’ve made a pact with her that if you both reach forty and are still single, you’d move in together. It tempts you to abandon dating altogether.
Three weeks of work crawl by with Fritz running the first-years into the ground. On top of all your clinical work, you are also part of the team organizing Fritz’s summit, as he liked to call it, that marked the end of his month at Trost District Hospital. The event is only going to last for one morning, but the man has so many demands you have to cover.
“It will be a melding of the best and brightest minds here in the outer cities!” Fritz said. “Several thirty-minute talks and open forums? Imagine what we can learn from one another!”
Everyone in the room looked so hopeful and were chattering with excitement.
“Maybe this will get us more funding too,” someone whispers.
You want to slam your head on the wall beside you.
Being a first year means that most of the heavy-lifting falls on you and your peers. You work on the logistics team—securing the small auditorium at the school next to the hospital, preparing the place, ordering packed lunches, and reserving equipment. You are close to losing it. Planning and event logistics are never smooth-sailing.
“I got the sound system fixed,” Miche says, greeting you with a pat on your head.
“Thank fuck,” you groan, turning to throw your arms around his waist and bury your face into his side. “Tomorrow, it will finally be over.”
Miche Zacharias is a third-year general surgery resident and a rising name in the field. He towers over most and is incredibly intimidating, but fear quickly turns into admiration right after your first referral. He is a stern but amazing teacher, and he is so caring and so good, taking his time to talk to every patient, that it made you want to cry. The man gives the best bear hugs.
“I thought you were post-call,” he says, walking to the water dispenser.
“No, I’m the resident-on-call in this ward for tonight,” you say, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ll be post-call by seven in the morning, but I have to be at that dumb summit.”
You’ve been charting for the past hour, and you have a few minutes left before you have to check on your patients again.
“Have you had dinner yet?” he asks, stirring in some cream. “It’s past nine you know.”
“Eh, I’ll eat after I do my rounds.” you say, shrugging him off. “Why are you still here, I thought you had a date?”
“Date night is tomorrow night. There are a few wraps in the lounge—”
Incessant beeping fills the air.
“Code blue!” one of the nurses yells. “Bed 8!”
“On my way!” you shout, throwing your pen down and rushing out.
The room is filled with yelling and organized chaos. The intern, a kid named Reiner, is doing chest compressions while Nurse Dreyse is paging anesthesia.
“Where’s the EKG?” you shout, starting the timer on your phone. “Charge the defib!”
“Here!”
Irregular waves with no pattern or organization. V-fib.
“Get ready to shock!”
Two shocks later, her heart starts beating again.
“Fuck,” Reiner whispers, his shoulders sagging in relief.
This is the fourth code you’ve had to run for your shift, and you hope it will be the last one for the night.
“I can refer to cardiology for this one,” you say, as you start giving the bolus of cold saline. “It’s probably an MI, so we need another EKG stat.”
One of the nurses starts placing the electrodes on the patient’s limbs and chest.
“And I need you to fill out requests for a blood gas, a chest x-ray, and an EEG please.”
Reiner looks like you just gifted him an entire week off with your orders. Cardiology really is a pain to deal with.
“Good work, Reiner,” you say, smiling at him. “You kept her going until we were able to shock her.”
“Uh—thanks,” he mumbles, blushing at the praise. He helps you fill out the forms to file the transfer of your patient to the ICU before going back to charting notes.
The EKG results are handed to you in two minutes—anterolateral MI. You quickly refer your patient for an emergency PCI while continuing targeted temperature management. You let out a huge breath when you see that no seizures are detected on the EEG.
Just one scolding to get through.
It is another fifteen minutes of talking to (and being reprimanded by) one of the cardiology fellows before you trudge back to your table to finish the chart you had been working on. A cup of steaming coffee is pushed in front of you.
“I saved you a wrap,” Miche says. “It’s in the fridge with your name on it.”
You smile gratefully before glancing up at the wall clock. The time flashes—22:42.
Dinner then a nap, you decide. You have a golden weekend after the summit, and it is Fritz’s last day tomorrow. Just a little over eight hours of work to go.
After signing off to Ymir, you make your way to the auditorium and enter your name into the attendees sign up sheet. You sneak in during the presentation for infectious diseases, drop into an empty seat at the back, and promptly pass out.
When you wake up, the neurosurgeon is at the podium, and Miche is beside you.
“I bet he wants to get into Fritz’s exclusive gang even if they aren’t really in the same specialty.”
Miche sniffs the air.
“Knowing the ego neurosurgeons usually have, yeah, I’d say he does,” he whispers.
As you predict, he is one of Fritz’s biggest fans, even dedicating his closing words to kissing the old man’s ass. You want to pass out again.
“What are you doing here?”
“Want to listen to my friend’s talk.”
“Is your friend some kind of superstar?” You hold a hell lot of respect for Miche, so you are now very curious as to whoever this friend is.
“He keeps a low profile, but he's one of the best,” he says, smiling fondly. “Fellowship programs from the Capital have been after him for over a year.”
“For our last talk of the day, we have a neurology case,” Fritz says with an air of pride. “Please welcome Dr. Levi Ackerman from Karanes!”
That wakes you right up. Sure enough, the surly neurologist takes his place at the podium. He already stands out, being the only one among the presenters who does not bother donning a white coat.
You hate to admit it, but he is really, really good. Commands attention. No high-falutin words. Breaks down the case and explains it so well, covering everything from the biomedical part down to the socio-political aspects. Fuck, he gets you to take notes in your state.
“It’s not just about meds or surgery,” Levi says as he reaches his last slide. “Patient care goes beyond that.”
You see a few nodding along. Even Miche looks deep in thought while sneaking a picture of Levi at the podium.
“Interventions are useless if we send them back to the settings and circumstances that made them sick in the first place. Never forget the bigger picture,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”
The applause is noticeably louder than the rest. Miche takes off while Fritz gives his closing remarks. Once the program ends, you are the first one out of your seat making a beeline for the side exit. You run straight into Levi when you round the corner.
“Watch it—oh.”
“Oh?”
“You look post,” he says as he picks up the pen you dropped.
“That bad, huh?”
“Your eyebags speak for you.”
Your eyes narrow at his comment. He looks a little too pleased with himself.
Before you could retort, one of Fritz’s lackeys interrupts.
“Dr. Ackerman!”
Levi curses under his breath at the sight of Djel Sannes brisk-walking towards you both. You are about to sneak away, but he hooks his finger in the pocket of your scrub top—a silent plea.
“That was quite the presentation,” Sannes says, shaking his hand. “You know minds like yours are always welcome to apply for a fellowship in the Capital.”
“I haven’t thought that far yet,” he says, keeping the conversation neutral. “But thank you for the information.”
Sannes beams.
“Actually, a few of us are having lunch with Dr. Fritz, and he’s invited neurologists from all four districts. Would you like to come along?
“I can’t.”
“And why not? You should celebrate after such an excellent presentation.”
“Uh, I already have plans,” Levi says, his head tilting in your direction.
You put on your most bashful and apologetic face. Internally, you are itching to twist Levi’s ear.
“Well, there’s still dinner, and heck, we’ve got the entire weekend!” Sannes says with a jovial laugh. “We’re very excited to have you join us.”
“I will definitely check my schedule.” You want to laugh at Levi barely suppressing his irritation. They really do want him to become one of them.
Sannes smiles haughtily, thinking that they’ve gained another for Fritz’s tight circle.
“Let me know,” he calls as he walks back to his group.
Levi nods curtly, waiting until the older man was out of earshot, before turning to you.
“What’s your schedule?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be checking yours so you can go to a luncheon with the king,” you say cheekily.
Levi flicks your forehead, and you slap his hand away.
“I don’t have work until Monday,” he groans, “and Sannes has been hounding me for months.”
“Does someone need an excuse to say he’s busy until then?”
“Please.”
That catches you off guard. How bad are they?
“Fine,” you relent, scrolling through your calendar. “I have a golden weekend too.”
“Brunch then?”
“Where?” you ask as you take the stairs down and exit the building. “There’s a new Starbucks one block down—”
“You’re hopeless,” he says, steering you by your elbow towards the parking lot.
Brunch is at a hidden but clearly well-loved diner run by a middle-aged couple. One of them is in charge of the savory menu while the other takes care of everything sweet. You don’t know how you have never heard of this place until today. Maybe Pieck is right when she says you live under a rock by choice.
“Why did they make you go to that thing,” Levi says as he cuts another sausage in half. “You’re post-call.”
“First-year, remember?” you say after swallowing the last of your breakfast sandwich. “We organized everything while Fritz sat and ordered people around.”
“How long is he still working there?”
“It’s his last day,” you say in a sing-song voice, folding the empty waxy paper and setting it on the plate. “Fucking finally.”
“Soufflé pancakes?” The waitress standing by your table is holding up a plate piled with thick fluffy cakes.
“Oh, mine,” you chirp.
“Here you are, sweetie,” she says, setting it down beside your empty plate. “You done with that?”
You nod, thanking her and letting her take it away. Your mouth is watering again. This is the first time you have seen soufflé pancakes on a menu, and you had to get them.
“Oh my god, I’m never gonna eat regular pancakes again.” You have taken one bite, but you are close to tears. The strawberry sauce and cream cheese mousse are perfect complements.
“Can you swallow your food before you talk?”
“Want to try?” you offer, pushing the plate towards him.
He looks at you for a moment before slicing a piece off and dabbing it in some cream cheese sauce.
“Okay, you’re not entirely wrong,” he says, stealing another bite before pushing the plate back. You don’t even fight him off.
“So what’s your plan to avoid them for an entire weekend?” you ask.
“Hide at home, probably.”
“Ingenious.”
Levi flashes you a glare.
“But I wouldn’t put it past Sannes to come knocking,” he says, mouth set in a thin line. “He’s a pest who has done it before.”
“Have you thought of hiding out at a friend’s? Or using one as an excuse to say you’re busy?”
He looks contemplative, as if mulling over an idea in his head.
“Can you sleepover for the weekend?”
Your eyes go wide.
“I’m sorry, but what ?”
“Just to throw them off,” Levi says. “You can be an old friend who came to visit from Marley.”
“He just saw me.”
“Knowing Sannes, he’s already forgotten about you.”
You think about it for a minute. Levi is not a problem at all. You already know he’s harmless. He is actually pretty gentle despite the tough guy exterior.
What the hell, you think. Maybe Pieck will be proud of you for becoming more outgoing. Making new friends. Being spontaneous. The works.
“Isn’t this a big step in our relationship?” you ask with an innocent tone, as you signal for the check. “I mean this is only the second time we’ve gone out.”
Levi looks at you through half-lidded eyes.
“You can have the bed.”
“Deal,” you say, paying for your share. “We’re passing by my place first. I need to shower and pack a bag.”
Levi’s place in Karanes is a one-bedroom apartment overlooking the river. He has a kitchen and dining plus a living area with an overstuffed bookshelf. Sliding doors by the window lead to a small balcony that houses a bunch of potted plants. Everything is organized and so very clean that you are instantly jealous.
“How did you find a place this nice?” You kick off your sandals and pad over to the shelf to peruse his collection of books.
“A patient,” he answers, dropping your duffel bag on the floor beside the couch. “Bumped into her while I was apartment hunting, and she remembered me. Offered this at a more than reasonable price, and here we are.”
“Wanna swap?” you say, checking out an old edition of Pride and Prejudice . “My studio is serviceable enough.”
Your humble studio at least has a separate kitchen. The room is tiny and cramped, and you could not collect as many books (and shoes) as you’d like, but it feels homey and safe. Plus your neighbors are quiet, and you live only five minutes away from Pieck.
You see no judgmental appraisal from Levi once you usher him inside.
“The throne is yours,” you say, bowing with a flourish, your arm sweeping towards the sole chair that you owned. “Look around, I don’t mind.”
“There’s not a lot to look around—”
You throw a shirt from your fresh laundry pile at his face. He catches it without blinking an eye.
“It is my first year as a full time working-class citizen,” you chide, grabbing your towel and fresh clothes. “I will be right back.”
He folds your laundry while you shower.
“Oh my god, I can’t wait until I get a nicer apartment.”
You plop down on his couch and curl up, exhaustion suddenly flooding your veins. The twenty-four hour shift plus an extra morning spent at that damned summit is catching up.
“Oi, take the bed.”
You mumble unintelligible sounds, much closer to slumber than you are to waking. Something touches your shoulder, and you feel weightless. Then everything goes dark.
The sheets are soft and warm when you wake. You’re still disoriented as you yawn and stretch before sitting up. The blinds are drawn, but a little light is still filtering in.
Levi’s room is sparsely decorated. He has a desk and another smaller bookshelf in the corner. There are only two pictures on the wall. You squint, recognizing Miche in the one that looked like a graduation photo. The other one is faded, showing three kids on a bike ride. You feel your heart melt a bit at the sight of Levi biking with an auburn-haired girl perched behind him.
The framed one beside his bed is that of a boy sitting on the lap of a woman. Both are happily holding ice cream cones. His mom, if you had to guess. She’s beautiful.
The door opens as you swing your legs to the side.
“I’m up, I’m u—aah,” you try to say as you break into a yawn.
“Good nap?”
“Mhmm.” You feel refreshed.
“Come on,” he says, holding the door open. “It’s past seven, and I’m starving.”
“Shit, did I sleep that long?”
“Passed out on the couch in less than a minute too. Impressive.”
You smile sheepishly as you sit at the table. Levi uncovers the pot sitting in the middle, and your stomach growls.
“Butter chicken,” Levi says, scooping some over rice.
“You cooked this?”
He simply nods, finishing your plate with a heap of fresh greens and a side of pickled red onions.
You are so close to moaning when you have your first bite.
“Where did you learn how to make this,” you say before having another spoonful of rice soaked in sauce.
“Riverside market downtown,” Levi says as he stabs a piece of chicken. “The woman who ran the stall gave me her recipe as a birthday gift a few years ago.”
“How did you even have time to find these places?”
“Food there was cheap and convenient,” he shrugs. “And Hange liked dragging us out to explore the markets.”
“Speaking of “us”, how do you know Miche?”
“Zacharias?”
“Yeah, his face was in one of the pictures in your room.”
“He was in med school with us,” he says. “It takes two to reign in Hange.”
You slowly reach for the bowl of pickled red onions. He nudges it towards you.
“Did you also get these pickles from there?” you ask as you pile more onto your plate. The acid cuts through the creamy poultry dish and goes perfectly with it.
“No,” Levi says once he swallows some chicken. “I made them.”
You have a bit of propriety left to stop yourself from gaping at him with a mouth full of food.
“It’s just making pickling liquid and pouring it over sliced onions,” he says with a shrug. “Works for a lot of other vegetables too.”
“Did you also learn this from the market vendor?” you ask.
“No,” he says softly. “My mom taught me that.”
Levi cracks a smile when you finish three helpings. You’ve thrown out any shame you had left in you. The food is too good to pass up. Once you finish, you grab his empty plate before he can take yours, barring him from dish duty.
“God, now I want something sweet.”
Levi turns his head to face you. You are both lazing on the couch, not really paying attention to whatever was showing on TV.
“I think there’s some fruit in the fridge.”
Of course the first thing that pops into his head is fruit.
“Peaches,” he says, looking towards his kitchen. “Hange was here a few days ago, and they finished all my chocolate.”
“Hngh.”
“Not in the mood for fruit?”
“Not that kind of fruit,” you mutter. “I want some strawberry shortcake.”
“Kind of a bourgeois craving at this hour.”
“Shut up.” You smack him with a couch pillow.
“So this is how you treat someone who knows a place nearby that makes really good ones.”
“I take back the pillow smack,” you say, jumping up and rocking on your heels.
Levi shakes his head at your excitement, even letting you push him out of his apartment. The slice is probably the lightest and most decadent strawberry shortcake you have ever had in your life.
“Okay, what other secrets do you have,” you say as you swipe the last bits of cream on the plate.
“Be more specific,” he says, dusting macaron crumbs from his fingers.
“Secret food spots,” you say as if it was the most obvious thing. “I’m not talking about the big corporations or posh shit like Sina, I’m talking about places like these! The barbecue place! The breakfast diner!”
He has the audacity to snicker.
“I’m serious!”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Fucking neurologists and your cryptic bullshit, it is not cute.”
It becomes apparent that napping for an entire afternoon is not enough to compensate for the hellish week Fritz subjected you to. You’re still tired and a little sluggish on the walk back. As soon as you get back to Levi’s place, you are getting ready for bed.
Naturally, you do not wake up for breakfast. Levi comes in twice to try to wake you, but you stay dead to the world.
“Why would I wake up for breakfast when I can sleep in?” you say, blowing steam from your mug of tea.
“So you can eat, and feed your body actual nutrition,” Levi deadpans.
“A chore. I just eat more for lunch and dinner.”
He gives you an exasperated sigh as he grabs a pair of scissors from the kitchen.
“What are you doing,” you ask, following him to the balcony.
“Basil’s overgrown and taking up too much space,” he says, snipping away. “Hold.”
“An herb garden. On your balcony.”
“Just the easy ones to grow,” he says, dropping more stems filled with basil leaves into your cupped hands.
“What do you plan to do with this?”
“Are you averse to pesto?”
“I love pesto!”
That’s how you end up working the manual food processor, blending basil, pine nuts, and garlic in salt, pepper, and olive oil.
“Why did you have to get a manual one?” you complain, switching arms to pivot the handle.
“Saves space and electricity,” Levi says, slicing the rolled-out dough into thin strips. “Are you done?”
“Does this meet your standards, Dr. Acker—did you make pasta from scratch?” you say, opening the lid to let him taste it. You are aware that you are gawking, but you can’t help it.
“It’s just flour and eggs,” he says, giving the pesto a taste. “Go grate the cheese so I can start cooking.”
Lunch is a simple pesto pasta that you finish embarrassingly quickly.
“That garden place near Wall Rose doesn’t even come close to this,” you say a little sadly, mopping up the leftover sauce with a piece of bread. “And they’re supposed to serve the best pasta.”
“Do you not cook for yourself at home?” Levi asks as a light dusting of pink tints his cheeks.
“I do, but I’m better at following orders when cooking.”
“Are you really?”
“Oh, be quiet and give me your plate.”
The entire Saturday afternoon is spent catching up on your reading and reports. You are shifting into a new service this month and are looking forward to working under anyone who is not Fritz. Levi is doing the same with the addition of taking calls from a few patients who had some lingering questions.
He turns out to be pretty good company. Respects boundaries and does not make attempts at weird small talk. He also turns out to be right as Sannes comes knocking early in the evening.
You have your back to the door and earphones plugged into nothing while you listen to Levi spin a lie about a friend from Marley. He even lets Sannes take a peak to prove he isn't lying about having company. Sannes is audibly disappointed, but the man is persistent.
“I’ll see you sometime next week. We can plan it then!”
“Sure.”
When the door slams, you count to five before you break out into peals of laughter.
“How do you put up with that?” you say, still laughing.
“I don’t want to get arrested,” he mutters, dropping onto the other end of the couch. “Or lose my license for beating him up.”
You snort.
“He and Fritz do have very punch-able faces,” you say right before Levi’s phone buzzes.
“Yes, we’re still on,” he says, not even bothering to greet whoever was calling him. “No, dinner with my mom is still on Tuesday.”
“Got a date?”
“No, that was Hange,” he says. “Want to come? We’re going to the barbecue place again.”
Hange is everything Levi described and more. Energetic and loud, but passionate about their work. They become thoroughly delighted when you ask them to keep talking about what they were working on in the lab. Levi just sighs, but you know he listens. He may be subtle about it, but his little comments and questions are proof enough that he is interested.
“So how did you end up with this grump!” Hange throws their arm around Levi’s shoulders and pulls him in.
“Uhh,” you laugh nervously, “we met in uh, well, it was—”
“Bonded over our mutual hatred for Fritz,” Levi finishes for you.
Hange cackles.
“Did Sannes try to get you to go to one of the dinners again?” There was a teasing gleam in their eye. “You did say you had to go to Fritz’s summit to present something.”
“Yes,” Levi says gloomily. “He came knocking again a while ago for fuck’s sake.”
“How’d you get past that,” Hange asks. “Sannes catching you alone can’t have been fun.”
Levi just tilts his head in your direction, and Hange looks to you for an explanation. You clear your throat .
“Hello, I’m Levi’s friend from Marley, and I’m visiting him for the weekend,” you say in a cheerful tone, giving Hange a little wave.
Hange shrieks. Levi eventually has to throw their napkin at their face to shut them up, but the management at this place seems to be used to them.
“So you’re staying with Grumpy here to help him avoid Fritz's recruitment?” they ask, wiping tears from their eyes.
“It’s not that bad,” you say. “Haters having a slumber party for the weekend.”
He actually smiles for a split-second. Levi doesn’t notice, but Hange catches it, and their mouth turns up in a shit-eating grin.
The rest of dinner passes without another outburst from Hange. You ask them more about their research, and they are only happy to oblige. Before you get into Levi’s car, Hange tackles you in a hug.
“Keep her around, Levi! I like her a lot!” You hug them back, elated at making a new friend.
“Don’t go over-speeding. I don’t want to have to bail you out at two in the morning.”
“Next time, we need to bring Miche!”
Levi succeeds in hauling your ass out of bed by eight in the morning on Sunday.
“It’s too early to be functional,” you groan, tripping over yourself as you make your way to the table. “My bag is packed, just wake me up when you’re ready.”
“Brat,” he says, “you need to eat something before you go.”
“I can eat when I get back to my place!”
“Will you?”
“Eventually.”
You are grateful though as you dig into a plate of potato hash with sausages and eggs. Cooking is not your forte, and on top of all things, you’re still regaining your footing after a very shitty month at work.
Levi drops you off in front of your building this time.
“So that was fun,” you say, grabbing your duffel from the back. “I guess you’ll have to find another excuse for Sannes next week.”
His face takes on a pinched expression at your reminder.
“See you around,” you say, waving before turning to walk towards the doors.
“Hey.”
You hear your name.
“Thank you,” Levi says sincerely.
You smile in return.
“You owe me more of your trade secrets.”
He rolls his eyes at that and waves you away.
Work becomes much more enjoyable once you are free of Fritz. You are still busy, working with what you have at an underfunded hospital, but even the tiring days become fulfilling. This is what you signed up for. You want to help people.
Today is one of those days where frustration reigns. You’re paged to the ER to take a look at a patient who has a headache. Floch, the emergency physician, diagnosed him as a case of migraine, but they referred them to you for disposition.
“Are these all the labs?” you ask, rifling through the papers. Something feels wrong.
“Yeah,” he says, taking his gloves off. “Hey, you got this one right? My shift is done.”
“I’ll do my best.” You hate how rash Floch could be at times.
You do your own interview and assessment and find signs that the bastard glossed over. Aside from a mild headache, the patient told you that he was seeing grey. He’s been bumping into objects and tripping a lot earlier today. He says he is a little dizzy, and you note slight weakness on one side of his body. You quickly order a stat CT before you try calling your attending, but they don’t pick up.
“Fuck, probably still running the two codes upstairs.”
Your peers are also busy with their own work. Annie is upstairs helping run the code while Ymir is at the outpatient department. Miche is post-call and is probably asleep. Your finger is hovering over one contact. You have not seen him in a few weeks, but you have been texting here and there. It’s fun bickering and getting a rise out of him. You count it as a win when he sends punctuation emojis.
“Fuck it,” you say, hitting the call button. He answers after two rings.
“Hey.”
“Uh, hi—um, I’m really sorry for calling in the middle of the day, but my attending isn’t answering and two codes are running upstairs and I need a little help with a patient and everyone here is busy and—”
“It’s alright, slow down,” Levi says. “Let me have it.”
You give the pertinent rundown while he asks a few questions to clarify things. For the most part, he seems to be thinking the same things you are, which scares you.
“He’s getting a head CT right now,” you say. “The ED said it’s a migraine, but I know it’s a stroke.”
“You’re on the right track,” Levi says. “Now localize.”
“Uh, visual field cuts, unilateral weakness, uh—posterior cerebral artery?” You are racking your brain. “I think.”
“Good. Work this up for deep vein thrombosis too. He had a heart attack a few weeks ago and has been bed-ridden—”
“Oh shit, you’re right, sorry” you mutter, jotting that down on your orders.
“And he didn’t take his meds last week?”
“Yeah, supply ran out and we aren’t getting anything until next week,” you say with an exasperated huff.
The technician hands you the scan, and you panic a little.
“Page the brain attack team!” you yell down the hall. The nurses give you a thumbs up, and your request is put through the PA system in seconds.
“Calm down.”
Right. You’re still on the phone.
“Sorry, I just—”
“You did well,” Levi says, his tone losing the gruff edge to it. “You caught it early, and he’s going to get the help he needs.”
It takes you a moment to digest what he just said.
“Thank you,” you squeak out. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go endorse this.”
“Anytime.”
The rest of your shift is still busy but is thankfully uneventful. You get off at seven in the morning and treat yourself to some gizzada on your way home. There are a couple of reports you have to upload to your service’s drive, so you have to stay awake a little longer.
The blue ring is inching its way into a complete circle. While you wait, you take your phone out. You’ve been meaning to do this, but you were pretty occupied at work, and you did not want to give another half-assed thank you.
You [8:42AM]
- i was rushing this morning
- and i’m sorry to have sprung up on you so suddenly
- but really, thank you for all your help and for picking up my call
Levi Ackerman [8:44AM]
- i didn’t do much
- you already had it
You [8:44AM]
- still helped a lot
Levi Ackerman [8:45AM]
- you need to trust yourself more
You [8:46AM]
- does that come with time
- i still feel like i’m fresh out of med school
Levi Ackerman [8:47AM]
- you’ll get there
Your chest feels a lot lighter. Something on the corner of your laptop screen flashes, notifying you that your uploads were completed. Shutting it down, you climb into bed for some well-deserved rest.
It becomes a regular thing. You consult him, and to your surprise, he consults you. You’re a little hesitant—blabbering and dumping your scattered thoughts, much like whenever your seniors discuss your patients with you. Levi somehow makes it a little easier to make mistakes. He is never patronizing, and he does not shame you for what you do not know. Instead, he turns it into teaching moments. He makes you feel like your inputs really are valued.
He texts you whenever he gets another invitation from Sannes or some guy named Reiss on behalf of Fritz, letting out his annoyance at the elite rats from the Capital. It’s one of the highlights of your week whenever it happens. He takes drastic measures to avoid them, to your endless entertainment. One time, he was texting you keyboard jams for fifteen minutes straight, just to look busy so Reiss would leave him alone. You never let him forget it.
Levi Ackerman [12:04PM]
- kill me
- sannes is here again
You [12:07PM]
- oh my god
- twice in a week? that’s a new record
Levi Ackerman [12:08PM]
- probably getting worse the closer i get to finishing residency
- thank god i have a consult
You [12:09PM]
- aren’t you going to get lunch yet
Levi Ackerman [12:11PM]
- in an hour
- i hope he’s gone back to the snake pit by then
You stop in your tracks, an idea forming in your head. You may be post-call, but you aren’t really that drained. It was a quiet night in the wards. Turning back towards the station, you make a stop at one of your favorite lunch spots for take out before taking the train to Karanes.
When you enter the lobby of Karanes Care Center, you see him walking out of a doorway on the far-left end. The sign overhead reads “Pediatrics.”
You stalk over.
“Delivery for Dr. Ackerman.”
Levi’s head snaps and turns to the direction of your voice.
“What are you doing here?”
“Figured I’d bring you lunch since I have free time.” You’re smiling at the dumbfounded look on his face. “And consider this as a thank you of sorts for helping this first-year in her dire moments of need.”
“Sannes is gone, I think” he says, taking the bag from you. “But we’re still eating outside to be safe.”
Once you settle in a more secluded area in the gardens, you unpack the food.
“Spicy tuna rice bowl!” You open one container and hand him the chopsticks.
“So you do have secrets of your own,” Levi says, breaking the sticks apart. He starts mixing the contents before taking a bite.
“Good?” This is from your favorite sushi place that you and Pieck have patronized since high school.
“Not bad.” He is clearly enjoying it.
“You’re annoying,” you say, mouth full of tuna and rice.
He picks up his mug and takes a sip to hide his smile.
“Why were you coming from peds?” you ask. “I thought you were an adult doctor?”
“A friend asked me to take a look at one of her patients.”
“Weird case?”
“We’ve never seen anything like it before,” he says. “Parents brought him in today with a whole folder of lab results. They were pretty desperate since he was getting worse.”
You grasp your cup of boba and take a few sips, listening to him give you an overview of the case.
“The kid was awake, but had no response or interaction with anything. Rigid limbs, tremors, absence seizures on the physical.”
“And their other doctors haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong?” you ask. A quiet sense of dread fills you. The details are very familiar, and you do not like where this was headed.
“No,” Levi says after another bite of spicy tuna. “But I’m thinking this may be something infectious or autoimmune.”
You open your mouth but decide otherwise.
“What?”
“W-wh-don’t you have the higher-ups to uh, consult?”
“What were you going to say?”
“Um, I’m not exactly trained like you guys are in this field.”
“Still,” Levi looks at you, waiting patiently for your input.
“O-okay, uh, have you guys asked about measles?” you say in a rush.
“Yes.” He looks at you curiously. "Kid got it about five years ago."
“And do you have their immunization history?”
He pulls the picture of the records on his phone then hands it to you.
“No measles vaccine,” you say, your suspicions heightened. “And you said the kid was awake but wasn’t even reacting to anything now?”
“Mhmm.”
“You said infectious—right, uh, I know it’s rare, but uh—have you—have you considered subacute sclerosing panencephalitis?” you ask.
He goes quiet. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.
“I’ve seen only one case,” you admit. “We lack primary care centers in Trost, so missed shots are the norm. The kid I saw was already blind.”
“This is already in the third stage, isn’t it?” he says, skimming through the patient's chart on his phone.
You nod.
“Kids don’t deserve this.” He sighs deeply, forehead puckered in frustration.
“When we topple Fritz’s reign, maybe we’ll get that shot at fixing the system,” you say, squeezing his shoulder gently, attempting to lighten the mood.
Levi smiles sadly. You notice the bowl is already empty.
“I see you enjoyed the spicy tuna,” you say with a small, triumphant smirk on your face.
“You might not be that hopeless,” he decides, tossing the empty containers into the bin beside the bench. “I have to get back to work.”
“I know,” you answer. “Go on, I have laundry to do.”
He pats your head before walking back towards the sliding doors of the hospital.
Texting turns into meeting up at the shortcake café in Karanes whenever you both are free. You work on your own reports or readings and fill each other in on what goes on in your respective workplaces and lives.
You catch him staring at your drink once.
“What, you want a sip?” you offer, holding the cup out.
“Do you not drink anything other than iced coffee?”
“I drink tea,” you say before drinking down a third of the icy brew. “I love green tea.”
“How?”
“As is, but it needs to be cold.”
“Fucking heathen.”
“Want a berry?” You’re dangling one from your fork, a sly grin on your face.
Levi gives you a mock glare before taking the fork. He steals a bit of your cake afterwards, already chewing on a bite of sponge and cream and strawberries before you could react. You find out that he is absurdly strong for someone his size when you try to push him away while defending your precious slice.
“You know you can get another, right?” Levi says, the corners of his mouth quirking when you hiss.
“I am saving,” you say, cutting a large piece from your slice, “for a nicer apartment with more space.”
An unexpected shudder runs through your upper body. You rub up and down your arms, trying to warm yourself and get rid of the chill that has settled deep within you. A small price to pay for good iced coffee.
“Please drink anything hot for now,” Levi tells you as he shrugs out of his hoodie.
“It will wear off,” you say primly, accepting the oversized hoodie that he holds out in your direction. “Besides, their cold brew here is really good, and I might get another cup after this.”
His hoodie is worn but so warm and soft. It smells faintly like black tea leaves and bread.
“Have you been baking?” you ask, inhaling deeply.
“Yeah, Hange is holing up in their lab again,” Levi says, going back to his reading. “That idiot would starve for the sake of their experiments, so I brought them a loaf.”
Pieck notices it first. Then Ymir and Annie. You almost choke on your drink once when Ymir asks you if you wanted to go on a double date with her and her girlfriend. Annie even asks you how the hell did you meet your fiancé during one of the most hectic years of a medical career.
They both are very visibly confused when you correct them.
"You just sounded like you’ve really settled down," Annie says with a shrug.
Even Miche brings him up. You wonder why he begins asking you about Levi whenever you get to take breaks together, but you shrug it off as him wanting to catch up on how his friend is doing.
“Levi’s worse than you are,” you say with a laugh. “I don’t think he’s ever tolerated those egos like you do.”
“Surgeons are a different breed,” Miche says with a sigh. “I don’t mean that in a good way.”
“Are you used to it?”
“Yes and no,” he says, cleaning up the trash on the table. “In the OR, yeah, because we have a patient on the table.”
He takes out a chocolate bar from his bag and splits it in two, handing you the bigger half.
“Outside is a different story. I’ve got friends, but I’m a lot less nicer when they rear their ugly heads and let their egos fly.”
“I really wanna see you chew out Floch one day,” you say, nibbling on the sweet.
“I did yesterday when that idiot missed a textbook case of cholecystitis,” Miche grumbles. “He’s got three reports filed against him this week alone, and if he keeps this up, he could get kicked out of his program.”
“Not to be a dick, but that would probably be better for our patients.”
Miche nods solemnly, not even bothering to hide his disdain for your colleague.
“So why were you out of town last night?”
Miche needed to bring some documents to his mentor living in Karanes, but he had an emergency surgery to attend to. You offered to deliver it in his stead, texting him once the files had been handed over.
“Oh, uh, I met up with a friend,” you say.
“Levi?” His tone is suggestive, but you do not take notice. “Is that his hoodie? You’re not from Karanes Medical College as far as I remember.”
“Yeah, it was pretty cold in the café.” Miche notes the dreamy smile on your face, but he keeps quiet. “We spent way too long arguing over the best kinds of tea.”
“You take the subway home?” He looks a little concerned. “You know that line is not the safest late at night.”
“No, he drove me home.” You wipe your hands with a paper towel spritzed with some rubbing alcohol. “Don’t worry, he drives me home or lets me sleep over when it gets late.”
“Wish he’d drive me home,” Miche grunts, pulling a laugh out of you. “I do miss that old man sometimes.”
“I’ll tell him you said that,” you say before excusing yourself to check on your patients.
You miss the shake of his head as he texts Hange.
Miche Zacharias [7:24PM]
- oh she likes him alright
- probably doesn’t know it yet
Hange Zoe [7:28PM]
- levi denied nothing yesterday when i talked to him
- fucking blushed
- i’m gonna kill him if he drags this out any longer
You take Pieck out for dinner at the barbecue place in Karanes like you promised.
“I’m sorry I took this long to bring you here,” you say, placing some grilled pork on her plate.
“Going out a lot with someone lately?” Pieck leans into you, giving you an expectant stare.
“It’s not like that,” you say, pushing her back into her seat.
She does not let things slide this time.
“You slept over the second time you met.”
“I was trying to be more adventurous.”
“You’ve been spending most of your free time together. He even lets you crash at his place.” You hold out your hand, signing for her to wait as you chew and swallow your meat wrapped in lettuce.
“Only when it gets late and we—”
“He picks you up and drives you home every time you get your strawberry shortcake.” Pieck does not miss a beat.
“Well, he’s nice—”
“And you’re spending the weekend with him again.”
“Yeah, because Fritz and his party are in town, and—”
“Have you even thought about it?” Pieck asks. She has an incredulous look on her face.
“Who has time to even think about these things?” you say, trying to ignore the heat you feel in your cheeks.
Pieck gives you a stern look as she prepares another bite of meat.
“I’ll schedule the thinking for tonight,” you say, grinning widely. “In the shower.”
She steals a piece of beef from your plate.
“It’s funny though, this is something that I’d expect from you.”
“And what the hell does that mean?”
“Oh nothing,” Pieck says with a giggle.
She pinches your cheek, earning a swat from you. You both get some ice cream before heading home. Pieck notices you are a little quieter, with her doing most of the talking. Your eyes are glazed over and you’ve got a faraway look that makes her smile inside. She’s planted the thoughts in your head, and she’s willing to bet that they’ll be sprouting before the weekend.
You may take some time, but Pieck knows that all you need is a shove in the right direction.
Time seems to slow down for the week. You still are busy at work, and in a little over a month, you are going to be promoted to your second year. Suddenly, you also have time to think, and Levi fills your thoughts more often than you care to admit. You space out a lot during your breaks with Ymir and Annie. You even miss your stop at the subway once.
The weekend draws closer, and you feel the tension build. You have not admitted things to yourself, but the fact that you have feelings that you cannot ignore is enough to set you on edge. Do you talk to him? Do you just act normally? More importantly, how does he actually feel about all this?
“Pieck,” you mutter as you rub your temples before hanging your towel up to dry. “Why the fuck is she always right?”
Even a single text from him makes your heart beat faster. It probably did before, but you only notice it now thanks to your best friend. You want more time to think, but your alarm buzzes.
“Right,” you say, taking a deep breath. Time to head to the station.
As you lock your door, you push aside your many thoughts and try to fool yourself into thinking you’ve cleared your head. With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you take the ten-minute walk to the subway station and hop on the line to Karanes.
Levi picks you up from the station, and holy fuck, why did he have to wear that dark green sweater today. It accentuates his build and gives his eyes a deep brown glint in this light, and oh , his jeans are hugging his thighs so—
You really are in trouble.
“You’re staring,” he says in greeting as he takes your bag from you and places it in the backseat of his car.
“It’s your sweater,” you say lightly, trying to keep your voice even. “Where did you even get that—is that cashmere?”
“Thrifting with my cousin, and I have no fucking clue,” he says, earning a pout from you.
“It’s soft,” you say, pinching the cuff. “And it feels warm.”
“I’ll take you to the old store sometime if you help me cook tonight.”
You perk up at that. You are not a great cook, but you are pretty good at following his orders in the kitchen by now.
The drive is filled with the usual comfortable silence. You feel like you’re doing a great job at hiding how nervous you actually are. Maybe you can get through this without screwing things up. When you get to his place, a sweet scent lingers in the air—like early mornings at a bakery where pastries for the day are baking the ovens.
You spot two layers of cake cooling on a rack on the kitchen counter.
“Clean up then take out the bowl of berries from the fridge,” he directs as he washes his hands. He reaches for a bowl in one of his cabinets. “They’re already washed so just cut them in quarters.”
“At once, your highness,” you say with a small bow.
He throws the kitchen towel at you. You laugh as you wash up, using the towel to dry your hands.
“So how did you avoid old man Fritz this time?” you ask as you start slicing the strawberries.
“Said I was busy with personal affairs,” Levi says, pouring some cream and sugar out into a bowl. ‘Haven’t used that excuse in a while.”
“And if they find out that I am said personal affairs?” you ask as you toss more sliced strawberries into the bowl.
“Hmm.” He starts whipping the cream. “Does that upset you?”
“No, it's not—not really, like—I mean—,” you sputter, trying to find words.
Levi’s eyes do not leave yours, and you feel something warm and heavy settle in your gut.
“Not like—I’m going to—”
Your words stumble to a halt. You shut yourself up and focus on chopping up the last few pieces of fruit.
“When you’re done, bring them over here.”
Levi has one layer of sponge cake set on a flat plate. You move to stand next to him, a bowl of sliced strawberries in your arms.
“You’re keyed up today,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Do you think we’ve unknowingly established something and just never noticed it?” you blurt out.
Levi looks like he’s about to speak, but you interrupt him. You just want to get this out before you lose your nerve.
“Like—like we’ve been dating but not exactly,” you say, the pitch of your voice rising. “But with the way this whole thing of ours goes, it can be perceived like that.”
Levi stares silently at the bowl of whipped cream, whisk frozen for a few seconds that feel like an eternity to you.
“When you put it that way, it does sound like we kind of have,” he says as he checks the consistency of the cream.
Your stomach flutters.
“Oh my god, no wonder my friends have been poking around.”
“What do you think?”
He looks calm, but you detect a hint of nerves. There is a quiver in his normally steadfast voice.
“People at work apparently think that I’m either dating or engaged.”
“I asked about you, not them.”
“Well—”
He’s staring, spatula paused mid-air.
“I think you’re really pretty,” you breathe out.
He flushes at your compliment, and this spurs you on. Looks like you aren't the only one who has been thinking about all this.
“You know that I’m uh—I’m not exactly good with words.” Levi says as he spreads a layer of cream on top of the cake.
“Really? I never noticed.”
He elbows you gently.
“Strawberries go on top,” he says in a low voice that makes heat crawl up your neck. “Line them up evenly.”
You do as you are told, assembling the slices and fitting them together on the bed of cream—like pieces of a puzzle.
“Wait, what are you making?”
“What does it look like?” He starts layering more whipped cream over the fruit.
“Oh.”
“ Oh. ”
“Why didn’t either of us do something before?” Levi asks. “Hange yelled at me for five minutes straight last week.”
He stacks the other sponge cake on top before covering the cake in whipped cream again.
“Well, I am pretty dense,” you say, watching him line the top layer with fresh strawberries. “You could have made the first move, you know.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
His confession makes you feel disgustingly giddy. It leaves you a little lost and incredibly thrilled at the same time.
“So is this an actual date?” you dare to ask.
“If you want it to be.”
You spoon some leftover cream into your mouth. It’s rich and light and not too sweet—just the way you like it.
“I think I do.”
He hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head. Your eyes go wide at the unexpected gesture.
“Messy,” he says, wiping some cream from the side of your mouth.
You get a little bold, grasping his wrist and bringing his hand up to your mouth. His pupils blow up when you suck the cream off his finger. He looks entirely transfixed by your lips, stroking them with a feather-light touch that makes you go mad.
You give a small nod, and he closes the gap, hand cupping your jaw to hold you steady. The kiss is hot and gentle and literally quite sweet, tasting of whipped cream and a hint of strawberry. You don’t know why, but the thought has you breaking into a soft laugh.
You hide your face in his shoulder as your arms wrap around his waist, a little embarrassed at how silly you feel, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“You gonna sleep on the couch tonight?” you murmur, pulling back to gaze at him as your hands settle on his chest. You can't stop staring. God damn it, he is so pretty. And really fucking hot.
He gives you a look that makes heat bloom in your gut down to your core.
“Mind sharing the bed?” His hands are warm on the small of your back, and it sends a shiver up your spine.
“Not at all.”