Work Text:
He loved the way Armin’s hands felt when they ran across his chest, fingers tracing where the harness bruised his skin. Sometimes when they held hands, Armin would grip Eren’s as if it were the handle of their weapons. It made him feel like a protector. Whenever Armin would work on something intricate, or write, or do anything with those hands, Eren couldn’t help but stop and watch if he could.
The time he appreciated Armin’s hands the most was when they were outside the walls. The Titans were no longer a threat. They were at the ocean, waves crashing against the sand. Armin was in tears. He kept repeating how it was so much better than the book had described, so beautiful and vibrant.
“Nothing could make me happier!”
Eren grabbed one of the hands he loved so much, dropping to one knee. Armin looked down, surprised, then dropped to his knees and grabbed Eren’s face. They kissed, at first frantically. The world was theirs. They could the rest of it one together, forever.
Their hands never seemed to be far from each other from then on, from their small ceremony to the day they were buried together.