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Levi's sexy orange chrome washer-dryer combination broke. It /broke/. So, like a fucking peasant, he had to go to a laundromat, becoming part of the common rabble and potentially dirtying himself even more in the process.
He wasn't even sure how or why his beautiful washer, which he named Petra, broke. All he remembered about the ill-fated day was that Hanji came over and...yep, that explained it enough. Hanji fucking broke the love of his life. Levi legitimately cried. Seriously.
So, with two laundry buckets full of socks and cravats, Levi walked down the street from his grim apartment to the dingy little laundromat at the corner.
He shuddered slightly as he crossed the threshold, the fluorescent lighting drowning out any semblance of comfort.
He stalked to the farthest washer from the door, keeping his eyes straight ahead as to prohibit himself from being deterred from his task. He wanted to be in and out.
As he was separating his white and black socks, the bell hanging above the door resounded, alerting Levi of a new patron. His dark grey eyes widened as he took the stranger in: long, thin legs, shaggy brown hair, bright green eyes, and oh my God, his delightfully fantastic ass.
The young man glided to a washer ten feet away from Levi, setting his baby pink laundry basket onto a folding chair adjacent to him.
Levi looked at the man through half-lids, then to his laundry. He smiled when he saw a t-shirt of The Wings of Freedom, one of his favorite bands. The kid had good taste, he'd admit. The brunette looked his way, causing Levi to cast his eyes somewhere else. Like his laundry, maybe? Yeah, that.
He leaned against the dryers behind him, watching his black socks and handkerchiefs be tossed about, and he felt himself grimace. Petra would never so carelessly throw his clothes around. She'd wash them, carefully, lovingly, similar to that of a doting mother.
The sound of the washer tugged him out of his reverie. The brunette was still there, five washers down, loading his clothes into the washer carelessly, mixing his delicate black boxers with his t-shirts. Levi groaned. So, the kid was truly a child. Pathetic.
Levi drew an annoyed sigh from his lips, his fascination with the brunette quickly waning.
"Hey, kid." Levi called to him, keeping his gaze to his own clothes.
"Huh? I mean, yeah?" His bright green eyes were wide and a little confused.
"You're doing it wrong. Wash the delicates with the delicates, and the darks with the darks." Levi sighed heavily and stalked towards the kid, his thin eyebrows drawn together.
"I've got it!" the look on his face was so determined, Levi could almost laugh. But he didn't.
"No, you don't." He pushed the kid out of the way and started separating the clothes correctly.
The look on the brunette's face was intense and concentrated, but he stayed on the sidelines and watched Levi's battle against his dirty laundry commence.
He attacked the titan-sized laundry pile, his pale white arms picking up various items of clothing and flinging them in their respective piles at supersonic speed. When he was done, he flipped the dial to cold and threw the darks into the receptacle.
Levi turned around and wiped his hands, a serious look on his face. "You're welcome, by the way," he said, his eyebrow slightly raised, looking beyond the brunette, afraid to look him in the eye, lest he were to start stammering or blushing.
The brunette looked down at his pile of white clothing, organizing the already orderly pile even further than what Levi deemed necessary.
His butt looked fantastic in those pants, Levi's mouth was practically watering. Was he that desperate for the booty that his mouth would water over a complete strangers? Jeez, get ahold of yourself, pal.
"Are those yoga pants?" It came out of Levi's mouth before he could censor it, or even stop himself. "Shit, because, you don't fill them out properly, and I think I would look better in them. My legs are more proportionate than yours."
The brunette's eyes narrowed to little green slits, a frown prominent on his lips. "Excuse me, my legs are proportionate; at least I'm not short! What are you, 5'0, 5'1?"
"5'3 is a perfectly acceptable height for--"
"A twelve year old? Okay."
Levi grabbed the brunette's arm, and in one move, had him pinned up against the washer with the offending arm behind his back.
"Can a twelve year old do that?" He breathed into his ear, watching the goosebumps rise on the kid's neck.
"Let go of me, or I'll- I'll!"
"Do what, kid?" Levi knew the answer. He would do nothing.
"I'm not a kid! My name is Eren Yeager and I'm 19 years old! I'm no kid."
Levi released his vice-like grip on Eren. "Well, Eren Yeager, you've got some fire in you. Want to go out sometime?"
Eren smiled. "Only if you do my laundry."