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Erwin has always been a charmer. He was already suave and strategic as a trainee, and now he is even cleverer and more charismatic as a full blown politician. Nile can’t exactly say he didn’t expect it, what with the amount of maneuvering that Erwin had had to do to keep the Scouting Legion afloat. And with the Legion’s reputation, it was a testament to Erwin’s skills of diplomacy and negotiation (read: manipulation) that the Legion had been able to do as much as it had. Erwin could schmooze and booze, he could sweet talk all the ladies around his finger, among other things, he had a muscled body from combat and a dramatic war injury that was easily romanticized into the stuff of cheap, lurid newspaper tales, and he snapped up connections faster than anyone. God, Nile felt like he was back in training, vacillating wildly between admiration, resentment, and a sense of gratefulness that despite their opposing viewpoints, Erwin seemed to consider him an ally, and even sometimes, friends.
At home, Marie fixed him with the same raised, daunting eyebrow and curl of the upper lip that had sent him tumbling head over heels in love a decade ago. “I didn’t marry Erwin Smith,” she would say, patting his cheek lightly. “Because I don’t need him. He’s a good man, but he doesn’t know what he’s looking for.”
Of course Erwin Smith would be seeking the victory for humanity, wouldn’t he? That’s what Nile had thought. But over the years he gradually felt that for Erwin, even that was a means to an end, that even humanity’s triumph was a pursuit of something higher, and even after the Fall of Walls that didn’t seem to change. For a while, Erwin ran himself ragged, working constantly — reading reports, putting together proposals, building impenetrable arguments, doing fieldwork. On warmer days Nile would see him uncharacteristically hunched and bowed over, the weight of his lost arm seemingly expanding in the hot air. Titans ran warm, after all.
That was before now, before Erwin looked peaceable and patient, drained of the dense, uneasy energy that used to burden him. Instead, he’s full to the brim with cautious optimism, and renewed drive. It’s Levi and the titan shifter Eren Jaeger, Nile knows, because he asked Erwin where he was going at night to make him look so relaxed, during the weeks where Erwin was refueled, flying high on the momentum of good moments.
"I’m going home," Erwin had said with a sly little smile. Mocking, probably himself. But Nile had seen letters and reports, the clatter of cute, round wooden birds that stayed perched on the corner of Erwin’s desk, the packet of dried herbs that helped with the aches and pains of bad days. But Erwin didn’t talk about those things, so neither did Nile.
Until: “Why don’t you come over for lunch, we’ll be in the area for inspections after all.”
What a disaster. It’s really loud in Erwin’s stupidly cute cottage house, mostly because his roommates keep shouting at each over the thud of hammer on nail on wood.
"You better not be putting those green peppers in our fucking lunch!" Levi snaps authoritatively, punctuating his words with hammerstrikes. Nile can’t see what room he’s in or what he’s doing, but it’s probably better if he doesn’t.
"Go to hell and make your own damn sandwich then!" Nile hears Eren Jaeger howl from down the hall, in the kitchen. "‘Use mustard! Put down the meat first! Cut along the bias edge!’ It’s just a damn sandwich!"
"Brat!"
"Grumpy old man!"
"I’m back," Erwin announces blithely, and there’s the sound of feet on the floor, as they come to greet Erwin at the living room foyer, at least until they see Nile.
"Your manscaping is more pathetic every time I see it," Levi says bluntly. He stares at Erwin. "Why is he here?"
"You know why," Erwin replies.
"He tried to have me executed," Eren says, scowling.
"Sorry?" Nile tries, only to earn himself a venomous glare, and the sight of the boy’s apron strings flouncing away indignantly as he stomps back to his post.
As such, lunch includes the following: a change of plans to baked potatoes, because no one likes wasting food but fighting seems to be Eren and Levi’s way of bonding and sandwich ingredients are just too easy to throw at other people, Erwin’s failed attempts to appease his two lovers? Roommates? for inviting Nile without warning, and a lot of hands, and a lot of touching. There’s the slide of Erwin’s hand on Eren’s waist as he reaches for nicer plates in a higher cabinet, the playful pokes to Levi’s scrunched brow before receiving a hard swat to the hand and a caress to the wrist in apology.
"This is nice," Nile finds himself saying, surprised. The food was good. The garden outside is a welcome sight, a reminder of fallow soil. Erwin is doing well.
"It is. I am very lucky," Erwin says, sipping at his hot cup of tea.
"But they’re right you know. Why did you bring me here?"
"Are house visits no longer in fashion?" Erwin teases gently.
"It’s one thing to house visit, it’s another thing to drag someone to your house."
Erwin just smiles, pillowed in an old armchair molded and used to his form. “I suppose I wanted a small housewarming.”
"What. What about that was remotely warm?"
"I feel warm," Erwin says quietly, meeting his eyes, "when I am here."
It’s a sign of trust, to be brought here. And it’s Erwin, so he could be playing him, trying to play some sort of sentimental card. Maybe he wants to guilt Nile, make him regret all his old suspicions and mistakes. But looking at Erwin sitting in that chair, spine curled with casual relaxation and idly tracking the trajectory of a butterfly hovering aimlessly outside the window, Nile thinks of that, “I’m going home”, and thinks it would be nice if it were true.