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The first thing Mikasa noticed when she woke up, was that it was warm.
Now, this may not seem unusual, but her room happened to be located in the coldest part of the apartment. And on early mornings in January, Mikasa tended to wake up with her extremities close to detaching no matter how many blankets she burritoed herself in.
Sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes free of ‘leftover dream sand’ as Eren used to call it, she looked around in confusion before she noticed a gentle hum. It was then that she looked over and saw a small machine plugged into the wall on the left side of the floor by her bed, little orange light indicating its status.
A space heater? Mikasa thought placidly. Hm .
Grateful to be warm, she took her time getting out of bed and going about her morning routine, a small, pleased flush on her warm cheeks.
Her morning workout went by normally, although Eren’s morning grunt/greeting seemed less grunty and leaned more towards actual words, to her mild shock.
The shock became much more than mild, however, when she walked into the living room to find it spotless. No empty chip bags, no beer cans, no suspicious undergarments hanging from the light fixtures; nothing.
“Eren,” she called, in search of her ever unpredictable brother. Well, not really called, so much as spoke his name with intent. He somehow tended to be able to hear it from wherever he was in the house.
“Mm?” Eren responded, his head poking out from around a corner with a toothbrush in his minty foam covered mouth.
“The living room is...clean? Is that damn chibi in my house again?”
Eren scowled at that, holding up a finger signalling her to wait while spat out his foam. When he popped back around the corner he was still foamy, just less so. And able to speak. “ No , Levi isn’t here, geez. I cleaned it. Did the kitchen too, and the laundry, in fact. By the way, where did you get Titan underwear? I love that series too, I want some.”
“You can have mine. So, why are you cleaning?” Mikasa asked quite suspiciously, and by Eren’s affronted expression, he could tell.
“I don’t want your--wait, why is it so weird for me to clean?”
“That is like asking why it would be weird for you to marry Jean.”
“Wha-?! I would never ,” Eren exclaimed, looking actually horrified and sick at the prospect.
“Exactly.”
Eren huffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, if you can’t figure it out I ain’t tellin’. And--oi, don’t you look at me that.”
Mikasa clicked her tongue, shifting her glare away and moodily heading into the kitchen, which was admittedly just as refreshingly clutter free as the other room.
Hm .
As the day progressed, Mikasa’s suspicion only grew. Before she could make lunch, Eren made it. Right before her afternoon workout in their apartment’s gym, she found a stack of warm, freshly laundered towels sitting on her bed, as well an eight pack of her favorite energy drink; nice and cold, little bits of crispy ice sticking to the plastic casing.
Eren must have stuck this whole thing in the freezer , Mikasa thought in fond exasperation. And when she came back into her bedroom post-workout, she found her sheets and pillowcases missing.
Avoiding the time waste that questioning Eren about it would inevitably be, she decided to take a shower while looking forward to drying off with a fresh, clean smelling towel. While in the shower, Mikasa thought and thought, but couldn’t come up with a conclusion to Eren’s behavior.
Although, she was beginning to think she didn’t care, especially when she found all her bedding had been washed and dried upon her arrival from the shower. It was sloppily put together, like it was done in a rush, but it was still steaming warm and just waiting for her to dive in.
And so she did.
“Hm,” Mikasa hummed, only this time, contentedly.
That night, Armin stopped by, greeting her with a warm smile and a hug that made her breath whoosh out on the exhale, just a bit.
“Happy birthday, Mikasa!” He said, pulling back as Eren shut the door behind him.
Happy…? Oh .
Oh .
Eren shook his head at her suddenly surprised expression. “And people say i’m thick-headed.” Mikasa was about to say that people were right , when Eren placed his hands on the sides of her face, those stubborn green eyes appearing to glare but Mikasa could tell he was suppressing some strong emotion; she could always tell. So she stayed silent.
Then, he was leaning forward and pressing a gentle, but firm, kiss to the side of her right cheek, closer to her ear than her cheekbone but above the thumb he held against her jawline. “Happy birthday, Mikasa.”
When he pulled back, her mouth hung open slightly, dark eyes wide and shining.
Eren never kissed her.
Eren never hugged her.
Eren never initiated physical contact with her, unless he was shoving her away from himself, Eren never--
“Eren!” Mikasa exclaimed, unable to control her emotions any longer upon see him awkwardly scratch at one of his own slightly red cheekbones.
“Agh!” Eren shouted as he was immediately wrapped in a crushing hug, Mikasa burying her face into his chest as her arms wrapped entirely around his middle. “Ow, ouch , not so tight! Armin, a little help--Armin?!”
Armin had joined in on the impromptu hug fest, an arm wrapped around both of the siblings as he smiled to himself.
“Eren,” Mikasa sighed, sounding positively blissed out.
At that, Eren didn’t have the heart to shove her off, and let his spine creak in a way it probably shouldn’t to rest one hand on top Mikasa’s head, the other on Armin’s.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Mikasa.”
Squeezing tighter, oblivious to Eren’s pained groan, Mikasa smiled.