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How it happens is through a loss of control. Poor judgement. He’s pushing 145KMH, weaving between traffic, when he hits an uneven bump in the freeway, and his front wheel begins to wobble back and forth uncontrollably.
It’s certainly not the first time he’s experienced it, but it’s absolutely something he didn’t want to face again. Losing layers of your skin to asphalt isn’t the best experience one could have in their life. Not really. And here Levi is again, laying like a discarded condom on the side of the road. Roughed up and leaking bodily fluids, but instead of semen, he’s bleeding all over himself and making a pretty painting of red on the shoulder of the road. It occurs to him he’s partially slumped in tall grass, having rolled into the median strip.
Why the hell he’s finding the used condom analogy so funny at this moment, he’s not sure why, but the weak laugh he releases seems a bit ill-timed. Probably because he banged his head hard against the underside of the semi-truck. Lucky it didn’t rip his head off entirely. Fuck, he hopes he didn’t break something. At least he didn’t go under the wheels. He was so fucking lucky. So lucky.
Dazedly Levi gazes at the bits of skin strewn across the road like a trail of candy, à la Hansel and Gretel. He pointedly does not look at his arm. Probably shredded to shit. Of course, the one day he decided to not wear his coat…. But at least he was wearing a helmet—wherever it went off to. He attempts to sit up, arms trembling.
God, his forearm is on fire. It burns so fucking much. He doesn’t want to see how bad the road rash is.
Meanwhile, he hears yelling, the passing of cars, the squeal of brakes. There’s shouting, the approach of footsteps. Levi’s vision is oddly hindered and he feels strangely out of it.
“Hey! Don’t try and get up, stay right there!” a voice calls to him, and then suddenly someone drops to a kneel beside him, earning his weak stare. The sight of this person has him collapsing back onto his elbow.
A man with startling blue eyes and a stern expression on his face reaches out for him, and Levi is honestly too stunned by this guy’s beauty to dodge it. Two big hands cradle his face, one brushing back his black fringe, exposing his clammy, flushed face.
It occurs to Levi that blood is seeping into his eyes. Explains the shitty, blurred vision. Levi blinks rapidly, which clears his vision momentarily. The blonde male model is inspecting his scalp, scrutinizing Levi’s eyes. Holding eye contact has never been Levi’s strong suit. He keeps averting his eyes and the man speaks again, a deep vibration.
“Let me see your eyes. What’s your name?”
Levi looks into his eyes, brow furrowing. He winces when gentle fingertips pass over the gash in his scalp—an accident. The other man apologizes three times and Levi takes a moment to process what the fuck he’s saying.
“Nnh, what?” Levi slurs, closing his eyes. His head hurts. The hand on his cheek feels good. Levi sags into it. He’s so fucking lightheaded… He slumps back into the grass, unable to keep himself raised.
The other man is quick to support his weight, wrapping one big arm under him and resting his back along his thigh. Levi tries opening his eyes again, but the blood keeps flowing and pooling on his lower eyelids, beading on his eyelashes. He closes them again, groaning.
“What’s your name?” The man’s voice is deep and soothing. Levi feels him moving, jostling him enough for him to crack open his eyes, blinking away the blood. This stranger is removing his shirt. And goddamn.
He’s broad, muscular. His body hair is a darker blonde, lighter on his chest, thicker on his abs. Levi dazedly stares until the dizziness becomes too great. Too much blood flowing elsewhere when he needs all of it in his head right now. Would be pretty fucking hilarious if he passed out because he got a boner. He feels Blondie press his shirt into the gash on his head. Levi winces. The other man adjusts him in his arms, keeping a firm pressure on Levi’s head wound.
“Have to stop the blood flow. Again, can you tell me your name?”
Oh, right. That’s his third time asking, huh? Levi licks his lips. His voice comes out distant, quiet.
“Levi.”
“Good. Nice to meet you, Levi, though I wish it was under pleasant circumstances. You’re pretty lucky, you know. Saw you went under the semi, clean between the wheels. Do you remember how that happened?”
Levi takes a moment to decipher what the fuck he just said. His head hurts. It’s throbbing, and he feels out of it. It takes him too long to figure it out, his silence lengthy. The shirt is lifted from his head. Mysterious Sexy Man makes a noise of frustration.
“You’re bleeding a lot. But paramedics are on the way. I think you might have a concussion. Considering, I think you got off lucky.”
“Might need your pants, too,” Levi mumbles. He winces. The breeze on the open skin of his arm hurts. He grits his teeth, cradling the wounded limb to his chest. The other man is silent for a moment.
“What? What do you mean?”
Levi smirks, cracks his eyes open to look at him. His blonde hair is knocked out of place by the wind, brushing against his forehead. Damn, he has big eyebrows. Suits his stoic face, though.
“The bleeding,” Levi murmurs. “If the bleeding is that bad. Take off your pants, too. Obviously… your shirt isn’t… cutting it.”
Levi stares into the man’s bewildered eyes, waiting for a response, and then just laughs himself, unable to restrain it.
God, he’s so funny when he has a concussion, apparently. Fuck. Laughing hurts, though.
The big blonde idiot seems to finally register what the hell he’s talking about. He chuckles and adjusts Levi against his arm. “We’d look like quite the pair if I was just in my underwear, holding my pants to your bleeding head.”
Levi laughs again, weakly. Then nausea swiftly overcomes him, a wave rolling through him with cold sweat bursting on his skin and saliva pooling in his mouth. He presses his hand to his mouth, closing his eyes.
“Is he alright?” he hears one woman’s voice. “Did you call—?”
“Yes,” Blondie interrupts. “If you need to vomit, Levi, do so.”
“S’not… Attractive,” Levi mumbles out from his hand. “You’re… too hot. Gotta look cool…in front of you.”
Not that his body gives a fuck about that. Levi drops onto his side, rolling out of the man’s hold, and vomits onto the grass. A big hand keeps that shirt pressed to his wound, another coming up to brush back his bangs. Levi heaves, eyes watering, hands white knuckled in the grass. His nose is dripping. Saliva is building rapidly in his mouth.
Fuck, this sucks.
Levi moans deliriously. The hand on his forehead feels nice, a hot touch.
He feels so fucking dizzy. He spits thickly onto the grass and weakly sits up as best he can manage. Swaying back and forth slightly, Levi looks over, meeting that blue-eyed gaze again. The man looks greatly concerned.
“Whass’your name?” Levi slurs. He raises his hand, closing his eyes as pain pulsates intensely in his skull. His hand bumps into another—ah, right, the shirt. This gentleman is pressing his shirt to his gaping head wound. Shit, Levi will have to pay for the dry cleaning, huh? Levi lays his bloody fingers against the back of the man’s hand, groaning. The other man speaks softly.
“Erwin. I happened to drive by and saw what happened. I’m a doctor.”
“Oh…”
“Do you remember what happened?”
It takes Levi a second. He mentally goes back in time, retracing his steps. Backtracking from being a crumpled used condom of a man on the side of the road, to a cool badass riding his sports bike, all hot shit. When, really, he’s a dumb shit. A dumb shit who has no arm skin and a dented head.
“Loss’control,” mumbles Levi. He’s keeping his eyes closed, breathing in slow to quell the nausea. It’s not working well. He takes in a gasp, swallowing thickly. “Hit… a bump. Got th’ wobbles.”
“The wobbles,” Blondie—no, Erwin muses.
“Usually can control that shit,” Levi slurs. “Fuckin’ amateur…”
“I’m just glad you’re alright.”
“Now… I look like a moron,” continues Levi, voice thick and fading. “I look… pathetic… in front of such a hot guy… Damn… Sorry.”
The soft, amused laugh that comes out of Erwin is a distant sound in Levi’s skull, an echo in his head, but it’s still pleasant and contributes to the goosebumps scattered across Levi’s skin—except on his arm. You need skin for that. Erwin’s voice is smooth and comforting, like warm honey melting in Levi’s favorite kind of tea.
“Don’t be sorry. I still think you’re cool. Maybe you should lay down, though.”
In the distance, Levi hears sirens. How long has it been? Dimly, Levi feels a touch of a hot hand on his bicep, curling around his arm. Feels nice.
“Awesome…” Levi laughs weakly, a dazed mumbling of a word. “Fuck yeah.”
Then, abruptly, he passes out, dropping into Erwin’s arms—who seemed far too prepared for this outcome.
The first thing Levi registers is the fogginess in his head. The thick, rancid taste in his mouth. The smell of linen and cleaning products. Coming to, Levi blearily blinks, turning his head to look at the IV connected to his left arm. A fitted bandage is wrapped around his right forearm. His fingers are swollen. His ring and middle fingers are wrapped up in a splint. There's a tight bandage on his head, as well. A neck brace, too.
He sighs heavily.
Damn. He got fucked up.
With his left arm, he carefully reaches out to page for a nurse. The IV in his arm pulls slightly, making him wince. At least he’s on some pain meds—he barely felt it, just an uncomfortable tug. His forearm is burning from the deep road rash, but that is dulled, too. His head is throbbing.
He can’t believe this happened, honestly. But it could’ve been worse. Much worse. He could be fucking dead right now. Instead, he lost some skin and his sports bike. Damn... His fucking bike. He mourns the loss of it, frowning deeply. Hopefully it wasn’t totaled.
It doesn’t take long for the nurse to swoop into his area, passing a curtain.
“How do you feel, Mr. Ackerman?”
“Like shit. Mangled.”
His voice is gravelly, hoarse.
“Understandable. You looked death in the face and came out better than expected,” laughs the nurse.
He doesn’t have to stay long. He wasn’t roughed up that badly. A concussion, which he’s had before, two broken fingers, lost some skin, and the neck brace was just a precaution. He leaves the same day, before Isabel or Farlan even get off work to pick him up. He opts to sit outside in the sun rather than suffocate in the waiting area. He wishes he could smoke, seated on a bench under a tree. It’s a nice day. It’s sunny.
The nurse had mentioned that a man on scene followed the ambulance to the hospital—hinting at his good looks, his kind demeanor. Mentioned he was a doctor. She was grinning a little as she said this, as if it was an amusing situation.
When Levi asked about it, why he even followed the ambulance when he had no further involvement, she admitted that he actually works there at St. Maria’s. He’d been the one listing off his symptoms and advising the team that wheeled him away. Basically sticking his nose into the business of the doctor who was assigned to him, until he was shooed off, told to just take his day off already. She rambled on about how he’s a real fuckin’ gentleman that’s loved by many. How sweet.
The nurse was unnecessarily chatty. Levi said very little and she provided all this information he didn’t ask for. It’s a wonder to him how she still has her job.
Then she’d handed him a note that ‘Dr. Smith’ gave to her, a job to deliver it straight to his hands. He hadn’t looked at it until now.
Sitting hunched over on the bench, elbows against his knees, Levi opens the note. The writing is a little blocky; every letter is capitalized, but in a way that looks good—and readable. Weird. He’d expect every doctor to have completely unintelligible cursive writing.
‘Let’s meet again under better circumstances? -Erwin’
Then his phone number. And a little smiley face.
Levi rubs at his brow with the heel of his hand, closing his eyes. Shit, it’s coming back to him. He really said that embarrassing shit to such a handsome, kind, perfect, beautiful, sexy beast of a man—God. He’s so fucking gay. He gets all weak in the damn knees, horrific vehicular accident or not, whenever he’s faced with a man who fits his type. But, to be fair, Erwin stripping off his shirt blindsided him more than the impact to his head. Threw him off. No wonder he blabbered a bunch of nonsense. Erwin’s chest and abs would make any person fucking braindead. Would’ve probably flatlined right then and there if Erwin went along with his joke and actually took off his pants.
Red-faced, Levi frowns to himself, the sting of embarrassment burning the tips of his ears. He can’t really remember what Erwin’s face looked like, at least not clearly. He remembers the eyebrows. The blue eyes.
He pulls out his smart phone. Well, isn’t this shitty little thing lucky. This fucking thing has been dinged up so many times from Levi dropping it on the hardwood floor at his apartment, but it survives a motorcycle accident—going under a fucking semi-truck. Typical.
He unlocks it, goes to his text messages. He starts a new conversation. Types in Erwin’s number. He produces a text message—typing with his left hand, his right hand currently too busted up—and sends it without thinking about it, because he can’t be assed to contemplate texting vernacular right now.
‘Hey. It’s Levi. Thanks for saving my ass. Appreciate the number. I’d hate to wake up and think you were just a concussion-induced hallucination.’
He has to stop himself from saying something stupid. Actually, no, that was pretty stupid. He sent that too brazenly. His head is still foggy from both the concussion and the meds. He was advised not to be on electronics much to allow his brain time to heal, but this is worth it. He stares at his text message for a minute, then suddenly his screen lights up with indication that Farlan is calling him. He picks up, presses the phone to his ear.
“Hey.”
“Levi! Hey! Damn, are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m sitting outside the hospital. When’s your ass getting off work?”
“I’m nearly at St. Maria’s, actually. Was just trying your phone in case you were already up. Glad I got through…”
Levi says nothing, sensing Farlan has more to say. He can already anticipate what it will be.
“Fuck, Lee… I can’t believe this happened. The call I got… What the fuck happened? Actually—no. We’ll talk tonight. Izzy’s about losing her damn mind, but they’re not letting her leave. I had to convince her to stay put. She nearly walked out.”
Levi rolls these words around in his head, blinks slowly as he stares out towards the parking lot. He watches people pass by, feeling peculiarily out of it. He has nothing to say here.
“Okay.”
“Yeah… Let’s just save it for later. Where are you?”
“Seated on a bench by the front. Can’t miss me.”
“Alright… I love you, bro. I’ll see you soon.”
It's rare for them to exchange such blatant verbal affection. Levi blinks in surprise, touched.
“Hm. I… love you, too.”
“That’s gay.”
Levi snorts, sneers faintly.
“Shut the fuck up, dumbass. Hurry up already.”
He hears Farlan laugh as he lowers the phone and ends the call. His phone beeps twice, indicating the call ended. Staring down at the contact picture set for Farlan, he tiredly appreciates the smile on Farlan’s face. He always gets the biggest laugh lines whenever he grins. It’s cute.
Then, startling him, his phone dings and a notification banner comes down—Levi’s heart jumps. A text from Erwin. He quickly taps it, opening it up.
‘I’m certainly real. I was worried, to be honest. Glad you’re okay. Be sure to rest up. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to reach out. I’m a doctor, I swear I know how to help. :-)’
Levi huffs a laugh. He’s quick to type up a reply.
‘I don’t even know you. You’d do this for a stranger?’
He gets a response a minute later, after Levi spent that entire minute staring at Erwin’s text. Levi attempts to ignore the giddiness swelling in his chest. He honestly can’t believe he’s texting the blonde heartthrob that saved his ass after he fucked up so royally and nearly fucking died. Reading Erwin’s reply makes Levi’s heart race.
‘I’d do this for you. I think you’re cool, remember? :-)’
Oh, dear God. This wet dream of his is a fucking dork, too. Nah, he’s done for. He’s so fucked. Erwin has granted him too much power, too much temptation, giving him his number. Erwin will surely, sorely regret this.
They get married eight months later. Levi can safely assume Erwin does not, in fact, regret it.