Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ugh”

Eren hated dancing. Many people, his sister among them, would say that he only hated it because he wasn’t any good at it, and true, Eren did have about as much coordination and control of his limbs as an infant wearing rollerblades covered in butter and oil, but that was beside the point. Eren just hated dancing; he found it frivolous, juvenile, and a bunch of other big words he was sure would make his old english teacher proud. All you do is just kinda shake around with some music playing, it didn’t make any sense. He had no idea how some people could call it a sport, and he most certainly had no idea how some people considered it art. It was just… stupid.

So, it was with great annoyance and frustration that Eren found himself in his car outside the local community centre waiting for Mikasa’s weekly mixed dance class to finish. He had no idea what his adopted sister saw in such a silly pastime, seeing as all the other ‘physical activity’ she did was more in the realm of kick-boxing, bodybuilding, jujitsu, stuff like that. Nothing about that screamed ‘dancer’ to Eren. “I can be dainty and still kick ass,” was all the response he got, in her usual monotone voice when he asked her one afternoon. He knew better than to press the issue.

Whatever. It didn’t matter to him, he wouldn’t even be here if he didn’t have to be. He was an adult! He had far more productive things to do than play chauffeur for Mikasa, like sleeping in, eating junk food, and ‘job hunting’. But no, Mikasa just had to lend Annie her car one weekend, despite that going so well last time… and the time before that… and the time before that… Eren swore, that girl had his sister wrapped around her little finger. Needless to say, Mikasa was without independent transport for the foreseeable future, and their parents deemed that Eren, what with his lack of job, college study, or indeed any productive commitment of any kind, was the perfect person to help his sister out in her time of need.

“Ugh,” He groaned again, exacerbated, dragging a sweaty hand through his sweatier hair. Working air conditioning was apparently for active members of society only, and so he had to suffer through summer in his rusted sweatbox of a car. What the hell was taking them so long? Eren thought to himself. The class was supposed to end at 4:30, and his watch very clearly read 4:37 in black digitised numbers, why was she so damn late? Eren cranked up the radio in an effort to pass the time, but all the music ended up doing was reminding him of what kind of active movement often accompanied it, which only made him more mad and more impatient and fuck it! He turned the radio off and angrily marched into the community centre.

As the doors opened, a wave of cool air washed over him. Oh sweet AC. Why was he angry again? As Eren looked around, it seemed he hadn’t have needed to come in after all; the instructor was packing away his music and the dancers were spread about the room in varying degrees of exhaustion, all of them taking drinks from water bottles and putting on their shoes. He cast his eye from face to face, but found no sign of Mikasa. The class was a surprisingly diverse group, people of ages everywhere between middle school and mid forties, and quite evenly split between men and women. That surprised him, having expected to see a room filled with teenage girls like his sister.

Just as the thought entered his head, he saw her. Mikasa was in the corner, chatting with some blonde kid about their age, while she tied her laces up and he caught his breath. He was dressed rather plainly in grey gym shorts and a plain white tee, the sweat-drenched fabric sticking to his lithe frame. He was shorter than her (which was surprising), had golden hair from his rather unfortunate haircut sticking to his face, and the deepest and bluest eyes Eren had ever seen. At one point those bright blue orbs locked with his own, before they quickly snapped away, staring at the floor. Catching her brother’s eye, she said goodbye to the boy and made her way over to him.

“Have a good class, Sugar Plum Princess?” Eren said, voiced laced with sarcasm.

“It’s Sugar Plum Fairy, Eren, and this is a mixed dance class, it’s more than just ballet.” Came Mikasa’s disapproving reply.

“Whatever,” he muttered, “Can we just go already? I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“The class is only 60 minutes.”

Eren shot his sister a pointed glare, before turning to leave.

It seemed that he had been waiting on Mikasa longer than he thought, as the next class was just about set up and beginning to start. It was much smaller than the previous one with only around ten dancers, and all them were quite young. The blonde boy Mikasa was talking to was among them, in fact, at this moment he had center stage. The instructor, a red-head woman who couldn’t have been past 25, leaned down and pressed play on the stereo. What are they gonna play for him to dance to? Eren thought, More ballet? Show Tunes?

He was very surprised to hear the opening bars of Jason Derulo’s Talk Dirty To Me blaring out of the speaker. The blonde boy closed his eyes and began to step and sway side to side in time with the music. When the lyrics of the song began, his eyes shot open and his whole body snapped to attention. He moved with a speed and finesse that Eren had never seen; hopping and moving in short controlled steps, arms crossing over and out, then up and in, shoulders popping and locking with every move, it was incredible. There were a few moves that stood out to Eren, bringing one of his legs up with the opposite hand high above his head, hunching over and half spinning, slapping his thigh at the ‘first class seat’ lyric, but other than that, the dancing boy was nothing but a blur. A beautiful, golden blur.

At this point, Eren didn’t think he could get anymore transfixed, but he was wrong. As the song reached the chorus, his movements became further spaced apart, slowing down between the lines of the song. He stepped out, spreading his legs and putting his hands up in front of him as the soft words of ‘talk dirty to me’ came from the speaker. And then… Oh my god.

As the saxophones played, the blonde’s lithe body sank to the floor slowly, running a hand sensually down his chest, and split his legs. Slowly he came up again, shoulders, stomach, hips, his whole body rolling. His waist and hips shook, hands running down his hair and around the back of his neck, before shooting up high over his head as he spun around and… Oh my god. Eren had no words to describe the glorious things this blonde boy’s ass were doing.

Mikasa almost made it out the door before she realised her brother was no longer beside her. She turned to back to find him in the middle of the room staring at the dancer, eyes wide, slack-jawed, and no doubt drooling a little too. She smirked, slowly making her way back over to him. “Keep that open any longer and you’ll risk something flying in there,” she said smugly.

Eren made no reply, giving no acknowledgement that he even knew she existed, far too immersed in what was happening before him. The blonde boy’s hand was now reaching down to his foot, leg straight and ass sticking out in the opposite direction; he slowly began to slide his hand up his leg, performing another sensual body roll as his torso realigned itself. With a final arching swipe of his arm and a synchronized pop of his elbow and hips, he was done. He made his way off the dancefloor as the second verse began, another blonde guy with ridiculously big muscles taking his place. He had skill sure, but he wasn’t as good as him.

“Eren? Hello? Earth to Eren?” Mikasa said, the slightest hint of humour in her voice, as she waved a hand in front of Eren’s face.

Finally breaking out of his trance, he swatted the hand out of the way, “What?” he asked, annoyed.

“Here I was thinking you hated dancing,” she raised her hand to point to the dancefloor, but kept her eyes fixed on her brother, “But you seemed to be enjoying that quite a lot.”

Eren immediately became very flustered, “W-What? No! I-I was just- he was- it… Argh! Let’s just go!”

With that, Eren turned on his heel and stomped out of the building, thinking that would be the final word on the matter.

***

But it wasn’t.

“His name is Armin,” Mikasa said after about 5 minutes of driving in silence, “He’s in the advanced class but helps out and tutors some of the dancers in my group, I think he even runs some of the beginner’s courses.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” Eren said, trying hard to appear uninterested, and failing. He felt a spark go through his whole body when Mikasa said his name, Armin.

“Because you’re clearly enamoured with him,” Mikasa said, as if she were commenting upon the weather.

“What?” Eren all but screamed, voice rising multiple octaves before he quickly tried to brush it off. “Psssh, me? Into him? Come on!”

Mikasa just stared at her brother’s reflection in the rearview mirror, eyes glaring daggers at him from the back seat.

“Ok,” Eren said, on the verge of floundering again, “Maybe, maybe, I thought he was... talented, maybe, but I-I… I am not enamoured with him.”

His sister raised an eyebrow, “Talented?”

“Uh… yeah… ya know! For a dancer!” He quickly added.

Mikasa hummed, “Well you’re right, he is talented, he’s been working on that routine with Petra, the choreographer, for about four months now. The Regional Amatuer Hip-Hop Competition is coming up, and if he works at it he could go all the way to Nationals.” Mikasa studied Eren’s facing, seeing the clear surprise and admiration written all over it. “Also he’s Gay. Ya know, just putting it out there.”

“Why?”

“Ya know, just in case you want to consider-”

“Oh look at that!” Eren said perkily, cutting Mikasa off and pulling the car over, “We’re here!”

“...But,” Mikasa said squinting, “The house isn’t for another two blocks.”

“Close enough,” Eren reached back and opened Mikasa’s door for her, “Bye Sis! See you next time!”

Reluctantly, Mikasa unbuckled her seatbelt, and with a huff, stepped out of the car and slammed the door. Eren quickly sped off in the other direction, watching his sister flipping him off in the rearview mirror. If he were a better human being, he’d probably feel bad for abandoning his sister on the side of the road, but he wasn’t. Plus Mikasa had nothing to be afraid of, on the off chance that someone did try and jump her in the 200 ft stretch from there to her house, they were in more danger than she was.

Armin. He said it in his head, then said it again, saying over and over in his mind, then said it out loud. “Armin.” He liked, it suited him, it rolled off the tongue the way his hips rolled when he- oh boy. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, he knew Mikasa was right; Cupid’s Arrow, in the form of a hip-hop dance routine, had struck him right through the heart and made him fall head over heels for the blonde boy with the amazing hips. Bullseye.

As he made his way home to the cramped and crappy apartment he shared with two other people, he kept thinking about Armin; how he looked, how he moved. He kept thinking about Armin as he came through the door, as he made dinner, and as he tried to fall asleep. It was more than just how sexy he was when he danced (and my god was he sexy when he danced), but he realised that when he first spotted him, he seemed very… timid. He was shy and petite, staying the corner and talking only to Mikasa, avoiding making eye contact with anyone and immediately looking away when he did. But when the music started and he began to dance, all of that shyness and trepidation instantly melted away. Something about the melody and the movement and the rhythm seemed to speak to him, making him come alive or bringing him out of his shell; it gave him a confidence that, from what Eren observed, he seemed to be lacking in all other respects. If dancing can do that to someone, his last thought was before he drifted off to sleep, maybe it isn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Eren had hoped, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his feelings for Armin would be short lived. But when he woke the next morning, he his suspicions were confirmed. He had spent the entire night hounded by Armin, and even in the few moments when he was granted sleep, the thoughts of Armin were as strong as ever. Eren sighed, and laughed a bitter laugh. This boy was literally the dancer of his dreams.

And so began the most torturous week of Eren Jaeger's brief and somewhat pathetic life. No matter where he went or what he did to try and gain some peace, he couldn’t get the dancing boy with the golden hair out of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about him; his hair that looked as bright as spun gold, that shone with the warmth of the sun, that looked soft and silky-smooth as it bounced when he moved. Hell, Eren even liked the somewhat dorky haircut; it was cute, endearing, and suited him very well.

He thought about his eyes, as blue as the deepest ocean, how kind they looked, and how excited and bright they lit up to be when he danced. He thought about his arms, how graceful they looked when he moved, how long and slender his legs were, how smooth his skin looked, the soft line of his hips and subtle curve of his waist, how loose and airy the fabric of his dance clothes were, how they rippled as they brushed against his skin, how his ass… ahem.

Needless to say, he was fucked.

Yet somehow, despite all odds, he made it through the week relatively unscathed, a fact that Eren was immensely proud of. He arrived at Mikasa’s place to pick her up 10 minutes early, all but pulling her out the door and breaking what he was sure was quite a number of traffic laws on their way to the community centre. “Jesus Eren! Slow down!” she said, gripping tightly to passenger door as they flew down the road with lightning speed. If Eren heard her, he took no notice of what she said.

Mikasa all but jumped out of the car when they arrived, fearing what would happen if she remained a moment longer. “Thanks,” she spat, not slightest hint of gratitude in her voice, “Don’t wait up.”

“Uh, a-actually I…” Eren quickly spoke up, stumbling over his words as he stumbled out of his car, “...I was wondering if… if I could… ya know, sort of, sit in on your… class… today.”

Mikasa stopped mid angry stride towards to double doors when she heard him, freezing in place. Slowly, she turned around to face her brother, the most wicked smile he had ever seen plastered across her face. She raised her eyebrow everso slightly, accusing.

“I-i-i-i-its j-just… really hot, in that car!” Eren stuttered.

She raised her eyebrow higher.

“Wha- Y-y-you think that this abou- wh- psssssssssssh naah! It’s not ab-about Ar-Ah… I uh…”

She raised her eyebrow higher again, he didn’t think it was possible, but she did.

Eren was sure he was bright red at this point, and that, coupled with how much he was stammering and tripping over his words like a toddler, probably wasn't helping his case. He took a breath, preparing for the blow he was sure was coming, “...You’re not gonna make me say it are you?”

Mikasa nodded, her face as smug and satisfied as he’d ever seen it.

God, his sister was evil. He sighed in defeat, and hung his head, “Fine, you win. I like him.”

“Just like him?” Mikasa said, he smile growing even further, revelling in her brother’s suffering. Pure. Evil.

“FINE!” Eren yelled, screwing up his face, “I think he’s fucking perfect ok!? Happy now!?”

His sister chuckled, darkly, to herself, before turning around and continued walking, gesturing for him to follow.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to start meddling in this,” Eren whined as he fell in behind Mikasa.

“Me? Meddle?” She said, feigning ignorance, hand over her chest in mock offence, “You wound me!”

“Mika, I’m serious. Please just stay out of it!”

She giggled softly, she was enjoying this far too much, “Dear brother o’mine, when have I ever lead you astray?”

“You don’t want me to answer that,” Eren replied, his turn to be flat and dejected sounding.

“Everything will be fine, you two will hit it off right away I know it!”

“WHAT! No, no no no no no no no no, I’m not talking to him.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna stare at him creepily from the corner again? Smooth, Eren, that’ll work out just fine, I know it.”

“You’ve… seen me try and talk to people right? It doesn’t end well, and that’s when I don’t find them ridiculously attractive. If you seriously think that I’m just gonna casually walk up to him and strike up a conversation, then you are sorely-”

“Hey Armin!”

Eren froze. He didn’t realise that, in the heat of their conversation, he and Mikasa had made it all the way across the parking lot and through the front doors, where a certain beautiful blonde nightmare happened to be warming up. He was at the far end of the hall with the heel of his foot resting against the railing attached to the wall, body curled over as he stretched, and an intense look of concentration on his face. Eren could have stared at it all day. At the sound of his name, his eyes fell on Eren and Mikasa, face lighting up when he recognised them. he slung his leg off the railing and… oh no, Eren thought, oh god, he’s coming this way! Eren’s heart was beating so hard, it threatened to burst out of his chest. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Aaaahhh! Ok, ok… ok… I can do this. I can do this, all I have to do is just… say hi. Yeah, ‘Hi, I’m Eren’, that’s not too hard… right? Argh! Get a grip Jaeger! You can do this!

Eren turned towards the blonde, now only a few feet away, took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, and… oh no.

In lieu of the loose-fitting tee and baggy sweat pants he had warned the last time Eren saw him, the dancer of his dreams had opted for a crop top, showing off all of his stomach, and a pair of tiny, tiny, tight, short shorts. Eren felt like he was gonna combust. He glanced at his sister out of the corner of his eye, only to see her looking right back at him with a devilish grin.

Pure. Straight from Hell. Beelzebub Stamp of Approval. EVIL.

“Hey Mikasa.” Armin said, the slightest hint of trepidation in his words. Or at least, Eren assumed so, as when Armin spoke, he didn't hear words per-say, more like  the sound of a chorus of angels descending from on high. His voices was so... soft, delicate, sweet; it reminded him of running his fingers along silk sheets, or a spoonful of honey in a glass of warm milk. Warm, light, comforting.

“How’s your routine going?” Eren thought he heard Mikasa ask.

“Honestly? It could be better. Petra’s been working with me all week trying to nail as much of it as possible, and I keep trying but everything I do doesn’t seem to… I don’t know, fit right. I want to make sure it’s as perfect as I can make it, but…”

At this point, Eren had completely phased out of the conversation. He gotten so swept up in that beautiful voice, in it’s sweet cadence, that what he was actually saying was, once again, completely lost on him. This was as close as he’d ever been to Armin. It was the first time he could really see him. Today, he had tied his golden hair back into a cute, stubby ponytail, leaving his fringe free to perfectly frame his face. His eyebrows were incredible; thick and strong, juxtaposing with the other soft lines of his features. And of course there was… um…

Eren’s gaze began to drift down over Armin’s body, taking in his small chin, narrow shoulders, collarbones, slender chest, all the way down to his exposed midriff. He found himself mesmerised, unable to look away, lost in his alabaster skin, tight waist, perfectly toned stomach, and… oh god, his hipbones!

Before his thorough analysis of Armin’s gorgeous midsection could continue, Mikasa elbowed Eren in his own midsection, hard. “And this,” she said, “Is my brother, Eren.”

Eren watched as deep blue irises met his, before quickly flicking away. Shit! He probably saw me looking! God dammit Jaeger! Whatever you do, don’t mess up again! Words! Say Words! Words would be very good right now! And yet, no words came, just awkward, bugged eyed, slack jawed staring. He hated himself.

“...I,” Armin began to say sheepishly, “I remember… you were here last week weren’t you?”

Wow... he... remembers me? Oh god, he remembers me! 'Oh yeah, there's that creepy kid from last week'! Shit!

Eren watched, expecting him to look disgusted, or at least uncomfortable, but he was gazing Eren timidly. His smile was meek, chin against his chest, but there wasn’t the slightest hint of fear or uncomfortableness. He was truly an angel, a beautiful, talented, sexy angel.

“O-oh… y-yeah, I drove Mikasa last week too…” Eren finally managed to stutter out with what he was sure was a huge blush spreading over his cheeks.

Great job Eren!

Before the conversation could continue any further, and thankfully, before Eren could make a bigger fool out of himself, the young redheaded woman from last week was asking everyone to fall in so they could start the lesson. Mikasa bid her brother goodbye with a wave her hand and went to join her fellow dancers. Armin turned to follow her, but stopped to give Eren a last shy smile. Eren was glad he turned away after that, so Armin didn’t have to see him frantically clutch at his chest and almost fall over.

Eren stumbled to the back of the hall and took a seat, just as the woman, Petra her name was, began explaining the class. “So once again, Armin’s joining us this week to help you guys out with a brand new routine. But, before we get started, I thought Armin could give us all a demonstration! Now, obviously I don’t expect you to be as good as him on your first go, but with luck, you’ll be dancing like him in no time! Watch closely everyone!"

She pressed the play button on the stereo at her feet, as the blonde boy in question stood at the front of the group, his back to them (and Eren), facing the full length mirror on the far side of the building. The song wasn’t familiar to Eren, but in all honesty the music was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Armin was starting to dance, that poise and sensual nature returning to him. His movements were slow, graceful, and really fucking sexy. His arms and fingers curled like smoke, his whole body gently rocking side to side as he did. He began to center himself as the music built up, until he stood with legs apart and his hands in front of him. And then… the beat dropped.

Armin exploded, with all the tenacity and power of a firecracker; his arms pounding the air as he brought each one up and down, mirroring each other. One hand firmly held onto the back of his head, while the other snaked down his thigh and… yep, there they were. He rocked and moved his hips faster than Eren had ever seen, faster than he thought hips could physically move. His forearms moved back and forth across his body, samba style; his steps increasing in speed to match, and his ass shaking as his weight rapidly shifted between his legs. He spun around on the pad of his foot so fast Eren wasn’t even sure he actually saw it, before once again splitting his knees wide and rolling his body, hips, stomach, shoulders, all in time with the music. he dropped down, shot back up, swung an arm over his head before snapping it back down, like cracking a whip, and all the while his hips popped and jerked.

Eren was paralyzed; he’d lost all feeling of his body, gripping the bench so tightly that he was probably breaking it. He watched, completely transfixed, as Armin threw his arms out to the sides and whipped his head and his ass in complete synchronisation. He could make out a few words and phrases of the song through his blonde induced stupor, ‘hot in the kitchen’, ‘drippin’ in sweat’, ‘temperature rising when I look at you.’ Eren couldn’t help but relate.

None of the rest of the song seemed to break through to him, too lost in the gyrating, shoulder popping, body rolling, sensual movements of Armin’s performance. And all the while, the tight seat of his pants was stretched thin, backside straining through the fabric, looking like it was going to tear at any moment. Silently, Eren thanked God for tiny short shorts.

As some rapper Eren was sure he knew replaced the singer and her intense vocals, Armin stopped dancing, and instantly that air of confidence and sexuality disappeared, replaced by the meek and demure Armin he met just moments ago. As the community centre thundered with applause, he gave a timid bow, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Great job Armin!” Petra said, leaning down to stop the music, “Ok! Now it’s everyone’s turn, so let’s take it from the top! On that first beat, you wanna start with legs apart, and bring your hands together in front of your chest…”

Eren was still frozen to his chair, unable to pry his hands away from where he’d surely warped the metal. That was… that was incredible! He thought, and that was about as complex a thought as he could muster for the next few minutes. When he began to come back to the rest of the world, he hoped to find Armin standing at the front of the class, but he wasn’t there. He whipped his head around the room, turning just in time to see a flash of blonde hair leaving the building. Oh. He sighed, stood up, and slowly made his way to his car; suddenly not particularly feeling like he wanted to be here anymore.

***

“So?” Mikasa said, eyebrow arched in its usual fashion on the drive home.

“So what?” Eren replied, voice lacking the intensity it had all too often.

“So did you have a good time? Did you like him? You’re being awfully quiet, it’s not like you.”

“He was…” Eren said, dazed, as if trying to find the right words, “really something.”

Mikasa scoffed, “Alright then, be all stoic.”

Mikasa turned back to looking out the window for the rest of the drive home, no more words were exchanged. There was no doubt about it anymore; Eren Jaeger, clumsy, crass, messy, loud, obnoxious Eren Jaeger, had fallen for an angel.

***

“Hello, this is Petra Ral speaking, how can I help you?”

Eren gulped, clutching the phone tightly to his ear, “Uh… Hi, I-I was wondering if I c-could sign up for one of your dance classes please?”

Chapter Text

“Wow Jaeger, you sure are going to great lengths just to get this guy’s dick,” Jean said through a mouthful of Lucky Charms, “Must be some pretty spectacular dick.”

“Jean!” Marco spluttered, frantically grabbing one of his pristine wash cloths and vigorously wiping up the drops of milk and globs of chewed cereal that had flown out of Kirstein’s mouth.

Eren had no idea how Marco, one of the cleanest people he knew, could put up with Jean, easily one of the messiest. For real, the guy was a major slob, and he ate like a pig too, Eren thought, shoving an entire piece of toast into his mouth and wiping his dirty hands on his shirt.

That was the downside of being a college dropout with no job, you couldn’t be choosey about who you lived with. The three of them had met in high school, and while they weren’t exactly friends, they got along with each other just fine… well… Marco got along with everyone just fine. They decided to all move into a share house after graduation, seeing as the only college in at least a 100 mile radius wasn’t too far away, and Marco’s dad was a real estate agent.

It was the perfect plan! At least, until Eren gave up on his degree, Jean didn’t get his acceptance letter, and Marco got laid off for not being assertive enough and let a bunch of elementary students trash the restaurant. “I can’t yell at kids!” He told his roommates defensively, “Have you seen the way their eyes water and their lips do that little shaky thing? I couldn’t be responsible for that!”

Long story short, there was really only one place that they could realistically afford, and calling it a ‘crap-shack’ was being too modest; its mould had mould. Not to mention it was falling apart, there were so many cracks and holes in the wall that it began to resemble swiss cheese, and a cloud of dust would rain down from the ceiling if you slammed the door too hard.

Yet somehow despite all this, the place was still standing. Eren would have been surprised if hadn’t almost broken his foot when he accidentally kicked one of the support beams. He had the sinking suspicion that whoever owned the land wanted to knock this hell-hole down, they just couldn’t.

So here they were, degreeless, jobless, basically squatting, and somehow discussing Eren’s sex life over breakfast.

“Can I eat without this conversation taking place please?” Eren said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew how unlikely it was.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this that easily! What’s he look like? He’s gotta be hot to get your panties in such a twist.”

Eren almost choked on his toast, his cheeks turning an alarming shade of red.

“MY PANTIES ARE NOT IN A TWIST!” He shrieked, his voice coming out many octaves higher than he intended.

At that, Jean burst out laughing, spraying saliva and Lucky Charm bits all over the table. He gasped for breath and beat his fist against the wooden surface. Hell, even Marco started laughing. He tried to hide it, not wanting to make Eren feel bad, but he’s always been the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Eren huffed indignantly, folding his arms and turning away from his roommates. “Dude!” Jean said, finally recovered from his fit, “You signed up for dance classes because of this guy! You hate dancing! He’s gotta be pretty special to make you take up dance classes! So give us the deets!”

“No way!” Eren growled, “You just want to make another deposit to your spank bank!”

“Is it the eyes? It’s gotta be the eyes!” Jean continued, paying Eren no mind, “No wait, the legs? No!” Jean gasped, “No, it’s the ass isn’t it? It’s always the ass with you.”

“Fuck off Kirstein!”

Eren reached across the table, intent on smacking Jean in his stupid, smug little face, but Marco’s mother senses started tingling, and he instantly went into mediator mode.

“Come on guys, calm down,” He said, his voice both soothing and authoritative. They both complied. Eren had no idea how he did that, it was like witchcraft. Screw yelling, he should have tried his freaky Jedi mind trick on those bratty kids. “Eren’s right Jean, we shouldn’t pester him about personal things he doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Thanks Marco!” Eren beemed. He knew he could rely on him!

“That being said, you totally need to tell us everything about him!”

The smile died on Eren’s face. It died a bitter, horrible death, stabbed in the back, left to choke on its own blood, double crossed by the one it trusted the most, leaving it to swear vengeance with its final, fleeting breath…

...That metaphor got out of hand, Eren thought.

Marco must have noticed how utterly betrayed he was feeling, because he instantly tried to make Eren feel better. “Eren,” Marco said, placing a hand on his shoulder, using in his most motherly voice, “Do you know how boring our lives are? We sit around, doing basically nothing, and I can’t stand it!” He was trying to be serious, but he couldn’t help but smile, “Do you know what happened yesterday Eren? Nothing, nothing at all. This is the first remotely exciting thing to happen in weeks! Come on!”

Despite himself, Eren couldn’t help but smile too. Everyone thought Marco was this sweet and charming angel, but that boy had a mischievous streak a mile wide. “Ok, fine,” he said laughing, “If it’ll get you two off my back, jeez!”

And so, he told them all about Armin. About how captivated he was the moment he saw him, about how adorable he was when they spoke, all timid and sweet, and how it all disappeared the instant he started dancing. He talked about how passionate Armin was when he moved, and how angelic he looked. How gorgeous that gleaming smile was, how his hair looked like it was made of spun gold, and how beautiful those bright eyes were; deep, royal blue, like the sea. He did leave a few details out, like how utterly sinful his ass was, but they got the picture. Eren really was head over heels for him.

Marco listened to his whole speel with rapt attention, and somehow, although Eren didn’t think it was possible, his smile got even bigger. “Wow Eren,” he finally said when his friend was done, “It sounds like you really care about this guy!”

Jean, however, was less interested, having taken to staring at his phone rather than pay Eren much attention. “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, “Care about getting into his pants that is.”

“Shush!” Marco said, smacking Jean’s shoulder with a flick of his wrist before going right back to his ecstatic demeanour. “This is so great! I’m so happy for you Eren!” He started gushing, “And you signed up for dance classes for him! Just so you could see him again! Oh, that’s so cute, I so hope you two end up togeth-”

Marco suddenly stopped, going rigid, overcome with realisation. “That’s it,” he said, far too calmly, “We’re gonna set you up with him!”

“Woah woahwoahwoahwoah!” Eren said, waving his hands back and forth, “No! Don’t start meddling now, please!”

“Too late! Oh man, this is gonna be fantastic!” Marco giggled before turning to Jean, “Hey could you text Mikasa? Tell her-”

“Way ahead of you,” Jean said, already typing out a text message with a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

“Oh God,” Eren groaned, burying his face in his hands, “Please don’t text Mikasa!”

“Already doing it,” Jean said, revelling in Eren’s suffering.

Eren groaned again, quickly snatching Jean’s phone before he had time to react.

Jeanny Boy (9:37am): Yo, Marco’s launching project hold-Jaeger-closer-tiny-dancer, you in?

“Dude! Give it!” Jean whined, reaching over and frantically try to take his phone back from Eren. This time, Marco failed to intervene in their scuffle, caught up in his own world filled with thoughts of romance and excitement.

Jean managed to press send when his phone was caught in a tug-of-war with Eren; the sound of the text whooshing off filled Eren’s soul with defeat, and he gave up, sulking. It wasn’t long before the phone buzzed again, making Jean cackle.

mi Casa (9:38am): Man, I was in before it started

“Yes!’ he pounded his fist into the air, “She’s in!”

“Great!” Marco said, finally rejoining reality, “Don’t worry Eren, leave everything to us!”

“Noooooope! No way!” Eren said vehemently, “Mikasa pestering me is bad enough, I couldn’t take it if all three of you were in on it!”

“Hey, don’t you have a dance class to go to?” Jean snickered.

“Ha ha, very funny Kirstein, but the class doesn’t start unti-” Eren froze, glancing up at the clock, spine tingling with dread. “SHIT!”

Eren launched himself from his chair, knocking it over and sending the box of cereal off the table. It was at least another 20 minutes before he came out again, time spent trying to tame his rat’s nest mop of hair and find clothes that didn’t smell like foot (which proved difficult, because somehow everything in the house smelled like foot).

“I meant what I said before,” Eren yelled, as he raced from his bedroom to the living room, scrambling to find his keys, “Just stay out of it.”

“Don’t worry about us Eren,” Marco said cheerily, as if he wasn’t about to tangentially destroy Eren’s life, “Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Jean added, “Go woo him with your mad dance skills.”

“Oh that’s a great idea!” Eren said sarcastically as he reentered the kitchen, “Just one itty bitty teensy tiny problem there Kirstein.”

Jean looked up from his phone quizzically, “What?”

“I can’t dance!”

It was true, Eren Jaeger couldn’t dance. He had about as much coordination of his limbs as a newborn foal on a frozen lake made of banana peels. People who had seen him dance had said it was ‘terrifyingly fascinating’, like watching a train wreck, horrible, yet captivating at the same time. Needless to say he was scared out of his mind; the whole ride over, all he could think about was the various ways he could fuck up, make a fool of himself, and embarrass himself in front of Armin and like seriously he’s so bad at dancing oh god what if Armin laughs at him and OH GOD WHAT IF HE NEVER WANTS TO TALK TO EREN AGAIN AND THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA WHAT THE HELL WAS HE THINKING!?

He sat in the parking lot of the community center, staring at the entrance and trying to muster up the courage to go in. Come on Jaeger, he thought to himself, You’re gonna regret it if you don’t go through with this, Jean, Marco, and Mikasa wouldn’t let you hear the end of it. Plus, you already kinda paid for the first session and money’s tight. Come on! You can do this! You can do this you can do this you can do this!

Eren’s chest slowly began to swell with confidence; yeah, he could do this! He could totally do this!

With his shoulders back and his head held high, Eren threw open his car door, bounded across the asphalt, leapt up the steps, strode through the doors and...

Petra had told him over the phone that Armin had taken over the beginner’s classes, but it hadn’t fully sunk in until he stood in the doorway, eyes falling on the graceful, angelic blonde setting up a pair of speakers.

Armin was going to be his instructor. Armin was going to be his instructor. Armin.

Yeah, there was no way he could do this.

He immediately spun on his heel to leave, and promptly smacked into someone walking through the doors. He was middle aged, sported an undercut, and was incredibly short. Despite his height, he was still terrifying. He stared Eren down with a pair of cold, furious eyes. Eren quickly muttered an apology and stumbled out of the way, receiving only a huff in response.

As the other people in the hall began to fall in, Eren threw caution to the wind and, reluctantly, decide to join them. Armin stood at the front of his class, reading something on his phone. As he leaned down and plugged it into the speakers, Eren couldn’t help but notice Armin scan the crowd, eyes falling on him, and a small, brief smile gracing his lips.

“Alright guys,” he began, trying his hardest to raise his voice so everyone could hear, “We’ll be starting a new routine today, so watch closely.”

He bended down again to start the music, baggy shirt riding up over his much tighter pants. Eren tried his hardest not to look, which, it turned out, wasn’t very hard at all.

Armin straightened up, as the Doo-Wop-y beat of Meghan Trainor began playing from the stereo. Everyone else began to slowly bop and sway in time, but Armin launched immediately into his routine, rolling his shoulders and stepping side to side. As he went through it, he called out the names of the moves, like toe-to-heel, about face, and something about locking, but Eren heard hardly any of it. He was too fixated on Armin, more specifically his face. He just looked so… happy. His sapphire eyes gleamed, his hair bounced and shone, and his lips were spread in a joyous, genuine smile. Eren didn’t think he’d seen a purer smile in his whole life.

And then… it was over. “Great!” Armin said as he turned back to face his students, smile still there, “Ok, let’s do it!”

Oh God,Eren suddenly thought, Was… was I supposed to understand all that? He said it was a new routine, but this isn’t a new class, the others might have learnt all this stuff already! Shit, I should have been paying attention! Wait, he’s talking again! I should be paying attention now! Focus man, focus!

To his credit, Armin went through each step of the dance thoroughly, explaining them in an easy to understand way, and giving a proper demonstration. By all accounts, he was a great teacher, so it was a shame that Eren was such a crappy student. Any time they were meant to go right, Eren went left, and any time they were meant to go left, Eren went right. When he’d finally work out what the step was, they’d move onto the next step, and Eren would just stand there like an idiot. Not to mention he bumped into everyone: he nudged the brunette girl to his left, stepped on the toes of the really tall guy behind him, and when Armin was explaining a move that involved hands being curled into fists, he pretty much punched the guy to his left.

The scowling short guy from the door.

In the face.

Eren was not having a good day.

“And that’s it!” Armin said, after everyone had thrown their hands in the air, “That’s the whole routine! Great job guys!”

Phew, Eren sighed. He did it, he’d made it through the whole class without incident… well, major incident. The worst was over, now he could go home, take a shower, and not have to think about embarrassing himself for at least another-

“Now let’s do it in time with the music!”

Oh Shit.

Eren’s heart sank, and he swallowed audibly. No, Eren thought, No no no no no! Shit! I’m gonna freeze up! I’m gonna trip and make a fool of myself!

As Armin’s hand reached down towards his phone, all Eren wanted to do was scream, yell out, tell him not to do it good God think of the children! Put he didn’t, and Armin’s delicate fingers daintily tapped the touch screen. And the music started again.

He… he didn’t freeze up... he wasn’t making a fool of himself… he was doing it! He was locking his arms, his feet were non flexed, he was actually doing it! Something about watch Armin at the front of the class, with that carefree, joyful smile, inspired him, moved him.

Everything was going great, until they approached the end of the song. There was one particularly difficult move right before the end, it involved spinning to the side, crossing your feet while doing so, and then immediately stepping back. It’s fine, Eren thought, No big deal, I can do this! I’ve done everything else easily, I can totally do this!

He was very very wrong.

When the time came to crossover, Eren missed a step, tripped over his own feet, and fell, basically crushing the angry short guy to his left. Not only that, but he was sure he heard himself make a very loud, very unattractive, skwark-like noise as he went down. And to top if off, everyone was staring. Including Armin. Oh shit.

Eren was sure Armin would have rushed over to help, had Eren not been shoved out of the way by the guy with the undercut, muttering something about brats and being filthy. “Ok everyone,” Armin said, once again struggling to find his voice, “Great job! That’s all we have time for this week, so I’ll see you all next time.”

Eren was very content to lay there on the dirty floor, wishing that he’d somehow be able to sink into it and disappear forever, but someone would probably trip over him before that happened. Reluctantly, he rolled over and made his way to one of the benches, electing to sulk out of everyone’s way. You fucking blew it. Way to go Jaeger, you made an ass of yourself, again. After that stunt, he’s probably gonna kick you out. God, I’m such a loser.

Eren was so wrapped in his depressing thoughts that he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching, nor the creak of the bench as someone sat down. “Don’t let Levi get to you,” an angelic voice said, “I know he comes off a little strong, but he’s really not that bad.”

Slowly, Eren looked up, and found himself staring deep into the enormous, sapphire eyes he spent so much time daydreaming about it. H...holy shit! I-I-It’s Armin! It’s Armin! Wait, shit! Stop staring! Be cool man! BE. COOL!

“Uh…” Eren drawled out after an embarrassingly long pause, “Y-yeah… Thanks.”

Holy shit. Wow. If this conversation gets any worse, I am changing my name and moving to Mexico.

“You know,” Armin said, “I’m kinda surprised to see you here, Mikasa said that you hated dancing.”

“No!” He replied, far too quickly and too loudly, “No, no, I meant uh… ballet! Yeah! Just ballet, all other types of dancing are… great.”

Armin stared at him blankly, “I’m a ballet dancer.”

Yup, that’s it, definitely moving to Mexico. I’ll pack all my stuff into the trunk of my car, and then, in the middle of the night-

His facial expression must have given away his attempt at escape planning, because Armin suddenly started laughing. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I hate it too, my instructor was a nightmare.” He chuckled again, and Eren thought it just might be the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. God he wanted to make him laugh again.

“So I was wondering,” Armin said, rubbing the back of his neck like he did the first time they spoke, “Do you want to practice with me sometime? One-on-one?”

Eren’s heart leapt up into his throat. “U-uh…”

Shocked, Armin’s eyes went as large as dinner plates. “I-it’s just-” He began, stumbling over his words nervously, “I mean… if it’s not a big deal. I’m not good at learning new routines with a bunch of other people, I know can be hard. Not that the routine is too hard! Or that you aren’t a good dancer or anything! I just mean, if you want any help improving I’d be more than happy to… unless, you know, you just joined this class for fun and aren’t super serious about it, which is fine by the way! Dancing is supposed to be fun!”

Armin continued to ramble on, adorably flustered, swiping a rebellious lock of hair behind his ear over and over, always the instant it would fall loose. Eren heard almost none of it, far too focused on the first thing he said. One-on-one sessions… with Armin. One-on-one sessions with Armin. One-on-one.

“Yeah,” Eren said, interrupting Armin’s stream of babble, “That’d be great, thanks.”

The worry that had clouded Armin’s features melted away, and the smile he gave Eren shone like the sun. It was stunning, radiant even, and soon enough, Eren was smiling too. In the presence of something so beautiful, he couldn’t help it. He smiled as they discussed the best time to meet up (entirely up to Armin of course, Eren had nothing but time), he smiled as he waved goodbye and walked to his car, and as his old rustbucket sputtered down the streets back to his apartment, Eren was still smiling.

Chapter Text

As Eren pulled his shitty car into the shitty driveway of his shitty house, he felt as if the collective shittiness of all of those things wasn’t enough to get him down. His mind-numbing boredom, his feelings of inadequacy, his gnawing self-doubt, Jean, nothing that would normally get to him could possibly make him feel any less elated than he did at that moment.

After all, he had a date with Armin Arlert.

Well, not a date if he was being honest, but hey, a boy could dream. But why else would he offered to give Eren private lesson? You know, the kind without other people? Where it’d be just them? Alone? Together? Dancing, longingly staring into each other’s eyes as the provocative music filled their ears and made their pulses quicken, bodies glistening with sweat, quivering in anticipation...

Yeah, Eren hadn’t given it much thought.

He was totally into him! Well, unless of course he just took pity on Eren’s abysmal excuse for dancing, flailing about the dancefloor like a squid covered in vinegar, and only offered the lessons out of the… kindness of his… heart.

Huh.

Ok, Eren lied, he could possibly feel less ellated.

But, as he started to remember the way Armin had smiled at him, how he nervously (and adorably) played with his hair, and how his eyes sparkled when he spoke, his feelings of angst didn’t last long.

Man, he thought, as he stood on the porch with his key in the front door, I’m so gay.

”I’m home!” he called out of habit as he stepped over the threshold. However, he instantly regretted it, realising how likely his roommates were to jump him for news.

Save for the commonplace sounds of something scurrying around in the ceiling and whatever that whining noise was coming from the shower pipes even when it wasn’t on, the house was quiet. Cautiously, taking steps as one would across a thin sheet of ice on a frozen river, Eren peered into the living room. Nothing moved, and no sounds of socks sliding across splintering floorboards filled his ears.

Eren breathed a sigh of relief. No one had heard him.

”So how’d it go!”

”SHITFUCK!!!!”

Eren shrieked, for what was probably the twelfth time that day, and leapt about three feet into the air. He’d expected this kinda ninja bullshit from Jean (if he could be assed that is), but Marco?

”Heh, sorry about that,” Marco said with a warm smile, before suddenly grabbing Eren’s shoulders and looking him dead in the eye, “But seriously how’d it go?”

Eren wanted to be angry, but he could never be angry with Marco, even when he knew full well that the little shit wasn’t sorry in the slightest. “You know…” he began, scratching the back of his head, “Despite making a complete and total ass of myself… It went great.”

”That’s fantastic!” Marco said enthusiastically, squeezing Eren’s shoulders and pulling him into a snuggly, almost painfully tight hug. Wow, he really was invested in this. “Jean!” He called, “Jean did you hear? It went great!”

”Yeah! Get it Jaeger!” Jean yelled as he poked his head in from the kitchen, “I knew the plan would work!”

Wait, what?

Marco froze, eyes going wide. Jean’s eyes did the same when he realised what he said, the two exchanging looks of panic as Eren’s brow, just as it so often did, began to crease.

”What?” he said, voice eerily calm.

Jean immediately ducked back into the kitchen, so Eren turned to face Marco.

”O-Oh! W-Would you look at the time!” He began to stutter, knees shaking, and eyes refusing to meet the angry sea green ones staring at him. He quickly turned on his heel to leave, but Eren grabbed a hold of his hoodie before he could escape. He dragged Marco into the kitchen and shoved him into a spot at the table where they had shared breakfast that morning, doing the same to Jean moments later.

”Something you want to tell me?” Eren said as he sat down, pointing a menacing glare at the two quivering boys across from him. Marco was frantically tapping his foot under the table, the soft pat of sock on linoleum filling the otherwise quiet room, while Jean did his best to look anywhere but Eren.

”Um…”

”Well…”

”You see…”

”It’s just…”

Eren raised his eyebrow, clearly not amused.

Marco took a deep breath, before unleashing a torrent of words. “SothismorningwhenweweretalkingaboutsettingyouupwithArminandthenyouleft, afterthatwekepttalkingtoMikasaandwecameupwiththeplantogiveArminthesuggestiontogiveyouprivatelessonssoyoucouldgettoknowhimbetterandhavemoretimewithhimwithoutanyoneelsearound, incase, youknow…”

”Marco!” Jean squealed indignantly, giving Marco a petulant, childlike look.

”I’m sorry!” he said, throwing his hands up in defense, “You know I’m a terrible liar!”

”That doesn’t mean you have to blurt it out!”

”You did what!?” Eren yelled, finally deciphering Marco’s barely intelligible stream of words. At the sound of Eren’s raised voice, Marco squeaked like a mouse, going rigid, as if frozen. Jean on the other hand tried to speak, but Eren cut him off. “Guys! I told you not to interfere!”

”Uh,” Jean said weakly, “Technically it was Mikasa who did the interfering.”

Suddenly, the penny dropped. “You texted him! It was your message he saw right before class! The one he looked at right before he smiled at me…” Eren’s voice trailed off, and became a lot more whiny than annoyed. He sank back into his chair, not realising he had frantically stood up, and slumped against the table. “Oh God, he must think I’m a loser, he really was just being nice.”

Eren felt the touch of a reassuring hand on his shoulder; he looked and saw Jean, now sitting beside him, looking at him sympathetically. “Dude,” he said calmly, “Shut up. What are you even so upset about? All we did was give him the suggestion, he still chose to ask you, so you must have been doing something right.”

Eren looked at him confused, was Jean trying to be… nice to him?

”Or doing something wrong.”

”Which may have been right in this situation if it got you more time with him.”

”I… guess…” Eren said, not wanting to cede that Jean may be right for once.

”So will take that stick out of your ass and thank us already?” Jean said, a small smile on his lips, “We just got you alone time with the guy of your fucking dreams Jaeger! I mean, I think that’s a pretty fucking spectacularly not shitty thing to do, I’m just saying.”

”Jean kinda has a point, Eren,” Marco said, finally rejoining the conversation, “I know it may seem like we’re being nosey, but we’re your friends! We want you to be happy, so let us help, ok?”

Eren forgoed looking either Marco or Jean in the eye in lieu of staring directly into the chipped, stained, and crumb-covered table top.

”Wow,” Jean said, slowly turning to face Marco, “You seriously don’t have anything better to do, do you?”

”I’m really bored.”

Jean guffawed, his friend’s dead-pan delivery making him burst out laughing. Marco looked at him funny at first, but soon he was laughing too, and it wasn’t too long before Eren started laughing as well; the entire shitbrick they called home was filled with the sound of of three losers laughing like total idiots. It was nice, Eren thought, it had been too long since they’d done anything like this.

Eren really didn’t want to admit it, but they were right. Thanks to them, he and Armin had actually had a conversation, a conversation that went pretty well, and one that seemed like it was going to lead to many, many more. Maybe he was wrong about Jean and Mikasa interfering, maybe, thanks to them, things just might work out afterall, and as the sound of their laughter pilfered out into chuckles and then heaving breaths, Eren spoke up, hoping he wouldn’t regret this.

”Ok, you’re right. Today went… today went pretty awesome.”

”Aaaaaaand?” Jean asked expectantly, his voice rising higher.

Eren sighed, “And I’d like you to help me get a date with Armin.”

”I’m sorry?” Jean said with a hand to his ear, leaning towards Eren, “Come again?”

Eren rolled his eyes and shouted directly into Jean’s ear, “and Jean Kirstein is A FUCKING HORSEFACE!”

Jean recoiled, almost falling out his chair, sticking his finger in his ear. “Oh, real mature dude,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words, “Bring back the horseface thing from middle school. Well done.”

Eren was in the process of flipping Jean the bird when Marco suddenly enveloped them both into an enormous hug. “Yes!” he yelled, jumping up and down, “Project Hold-Eren-Closer-Tiny-Dancer is a go!”

”Is the name really necessary?” the sound of Eren’s voice muffled, coming somewhere from the fold of Marco’s shirt, face pressed against his chest.

”Look, do you want our help or not?”

”Ok, ok, fine,” he said, breaking out of the suffocating grip, “Just whatever you do, don’t tell Mikas-”

Eren was cut short by the sound of his ring tone playing from his pocket. He fished out and checked the Caller ID before answering. Speak of the Devil…

”Hello?”

”So, When’s the wedding?”

”Dammit, Jean!” Eren yelled, looking over to find his roommate with his phone in his hands, text somehow sent while he had been looking at him. How’d always do that?

”You should’ve seen your face!” Jean called, running off into the house to escape Eren’s wrath, floorboards creaking dangerously as he went.

Eren gave chase, dropping his phone on the table as he too raced out of the kitchen. “DAMMIT! THE ONE TIME I ACTUALLY START WARMING UP TO YOU…”

Marco didn’t hear anything else but the thundering of frantic footsteps running up and down the halls. Smiling and shaking his head, he leaned down and hung up on a thoroughly confused Mikasa.

Dorks.