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“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Eren said from where he had been sitting all too calmly on the couch for the last hour.
Mikasa glared.
“He’s been away nearly a year,” she explained again.
How many times had she said that anyway? Too many probably but it was hard to help it. And even though he played it cool she knew Eren was just as antsy as she was. None of them had been separated for so long unless you counted before they met. It may as well have been a lifetime. Making matters worse, of course, was their lack of regular communication. As it turned out, being on a remote diving expedition was not exactly conducive to exchanging calls and texts.
“He’s never been to your house anyway. How would he know if it was less than perfect?”
She moved a glittering ornament to a new spot on the tree and ignored Eren’s lack of fretting.
“Besides, you never decorate,” Eren added.
Mikasa stepped back and crossed her arms, satisfied enough with her work. She might have even relaxed a moment if not for the knock on the door.
Eren jumped to his feet. They went to stand side by side at the front door but neither reached for the handle. She drew a deep breath and wiggled her fingertips but by the time she convinced herself to move Eren had wrenched the door open.
The person that she had remembered for the past year did not align with the person now standing on her front step, clad in a flattering cable knit and armed with gift bags that crunched alarmingly when Eren pulled him in for a crushing hug. It was the noise of alarm that squeaked out of the stranger that made it real for Mikasa.
As soon as Eren released him, she pulled Armin into her own tight embrace.
“Ow,” he complained into her ear but she knew he was smiling just as much as she was. In spite of his apparent transformation, he felt and sounded just like her Armin.
Well, almost.
She pulled away without mentioning how he had for once hugged her hard enough to feel it in her ribs. Or how he stood up straighter now than she remembered. And—
“Your hair,” she said, stunned.
“Your hair,” Armin said right back.
She reached to feel the short hair along her neckline. He watched her with an unwavering gaze and indeterminable expression that was as familiar as it was brand new. Mikasa swallowed. Eren cleared his throat.
“Eggnog?”
Armin agreed with a shy smile before they pulled him right to the kitchen. Mikasa had baked enough for twice as many people and promptly began an effort to fill Armin and Eren both to the brim with cookies and pie.
“Mikasa, I can’t,” Armin groaned when she suggested a third slice.
Eren waved her away as well but his face was beaming. She could not remember the last time he looked so happy. Armin sported a similar contentedness. His cheeks were flushed, Eren having been heavy handed as ever with the rum. Armin leaned into Mikasa’s side in a way they had done as long as she could remember. She blinked and laughed softly at Armin’s latest story from the expedition. His weight was heavy against her. It was easy to remember—
Mikasa’s back stiffened straight as a rod.
Armin stumbled into the space she had so recently occupied. She apologized even as she took two more steps back. Her tongue was lead in her mouth and her voice was foreign in her ears.
“I’m— I’ll be right back.”
What was she even saying? Doing? They both looked at her with confusion. Ultimately, Eren just shrugged. Armin looked—
No, just surprised, she was sure. Not as surprised as her, though, she thought. She began to pack up the first pie within reach.
Her stomach did the oddest thing when Armin’s fingertips touched her wrist.
“We’ll take care of it,” he assured her.
How did that make it so much worse?
A hot feeling began to crawl up her throat and toward her cheeks as she made her unceremonious escape. By the time the bathroom mirror was before her, her face was a different shade entirely. She pressed a cool palm to her cheek and shook her head hard. To say she had overreacted was a complete understatement. He had hardly reacted as such.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her face, willing the memory of it to dissipate. They had not spoken of it and she was not even completely sure she wanted to. Did she?
Well, one could only hide in the bathroom so long, she resolved, pulling the door open hastily.
Armin jumped. A squeak even escaped her.
“Mikasa,” he gasped, already beginning to laugh.
The quiet giggle that she let out sparked a small wave of laughter between them. It was not until she caught her breath that she realized his hand, gentle on her left shoulder.
“What are you doing?” She gasped.
He shook his head with a fresh laugh.
“Me? What’s going on with you? Is everything ok?”
“What? I’m fine,” she said a little too quickly.
He eyed her suspiciously. If anyone could see through her it was surely still him. But he left it alone- no doubt intending to puzzle it out on his own accord- and only smiled.
“Eren had to run home,” he said, amusement lingering in his expression when he glanced at Mikasa. “Grisha is being kept late at the hospital and Carla is panicking about finishing dinner.”
“Can we—” she began to say when Armin’s head shook quickly.
“No. Eren offered our help immediately, of course—” Armin chuckled. “But Carla insisted that you had ‘done quite enough already.’”
Mikasa smiled at Armin’s surprisingly good impression.
“So I guess it’s just you and me,” he added.
She blinked blankly. Because, of course, there was no reason for her to be nervous. And she definitely was not nervous. It was just Armin.
Just Armin, who narrowed his eyes at her sudden shift to neutrality but he only asked,
“What do you want to do?”
Lost for thought, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I can show you your room.”
He followed her to the room that happened to sit just across the hall from her own. The knot that had formed in her stomach melted unexpectedly when he flopped himself onto the bed.
“Eren put too much rum,” he groaned.
“I know,” she agreed as she smoothed the corner of the comforter for the fifth time that day.
“Then why are you totally fine?”
Totally fine was relative, she thought, but she only shrugged. His bangs fell over his eyes as he rolled his head to the side. He peered at her from behind the strands for a moment before pushing himself up.
“Ok, can you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she insisted.
“Did something happen while I was gone?”
Sure, plenty had happened but none of it was anything out of the ordinary. Life had gone on pretty much the same except for—
“It’s been boring since you left,” she found herself admitting. “But, no, nothing’s happened.”
“Boring? What about this?”
He motioned to the freshly painted room around them. Mikasa shrugged it off. Home renovations had been mostly a chore. Besides, Jean had helped quite a lot.
“I don’t know,” she said, ignoring his point. “We missed you.”
“Mikasa,” Armin breathed out. “Don’t be silly, I’m not interesting. What have you been up to? Surely you’ve done something. Made new friends?”
“No.”
He lowered the bar.
“New restaurants?”
“No— Oh, well—”
“What?”
She sunk down to the floor and leaned back against the side of the bed.
“I guess we did try a new place actually. You would like it.”
“Oh my god,” Armin groaned. “Don’t tell me you two have literally been doing the same things for a year. What about Sasha? Jean? Connie? Hasn’t anyone forced you and Eren to go somewhere new?”
“I guess that’s true,” she conceded. “It’s not like I go out much, though. Sometimes Jean wants to go eat if we’ve been working on the house.”
This gave Armin pause. When he spoke, he feigned casualness.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jean working on the house. Are you guys—”
Her scoff preceded her snort. As if he had to finish the question. Her stomach flipped at the hint of displeasure that had been in his voice when he asked it. Armin slid off the bed to sit beside her on the floor.
“What? Why are you laughing?” He asked with not quite a frown.
“Because it’s a silly question. Of course not.”
“It’s not silly,” he protested. “Why would that be silly?”
She shrugged.
“Are you seeing someone?” He tried next.
She ignored the tightening in her chest, only giving a sound of disagreement. Armin searched her face. Mikasa stared out at the floor in front of her. She heard the heavy breath that he drew.
“You promised– You didn’t have to wait.”
The morning light was peeking through the curtains. Mikasa pulled herself closer to Armin. She had so much to say.
And so little.
What was there to say? They were each others’ now, weren’t they? Armin curled into her with a sleepy groan.
“Mikasa,” he murmured.
Her heart pounded. She didn’t like the way she knew something else was coming. He was going to second guess. Or worse, apologize. Please don’t, she silently begged, squeezing her eyes shut. Don’t apologize for the best night of her life.
“I– I’m sorry.” Her core chilled. He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry that I have to go, I–”
“You can’t be sorry about that,” she said flatly, though some warmth had returned to her chest.
If that was all he was sorry for, perhaps they could agree on that part. Not that she would ever wish him not to go. He had to, there was just no other way around it. It was too good an opportunity. When next would he get hand-picked for a research team? She had watched his face light up with every new aspect. Scuba lessons specifically had had him ecstatic for months. No, he could not be sorry for that.
He searched her face. Bit his lip.
“Promise me something.”
She lifted a brow. He always had something up his sleeve, didn’t he?
“Just– If you don’t want to wait for me–”
She rolled her eyes.
Did he still think so little of himself? That he was not worth it?
“I didn’t promise anything,” she stated with an air of defiance that she hoped was more than enough for him to take the hint.
Even if she had it would have been a stupid promise. Armin wrapped his knees with his arms. His eyes were nervous but focused. She felt lost in his gaze. It was never meant to be this way. He was her best friend; they should have liked other people. They had liked other people. Until that night. Until he was hers, if only for that moment. And maybe she had no right to be possessive but she could hardly help wanting him to herself.
“I missed you,” she breathed.
As soon as Armin sighed Mikasa knew he would try to apologize.
“Don’t,” she murmured. “You needed to go. I know you loved it.”
The drop of his head onto her shoulder made the corners of her mouth lift automatically. She leaned her cheek into his hair and let the hopeful warmth spread through her.
“It was amazing,” he admitted.
She hummed, satisfied at the sound of a smile in his voice. His hand found hers, to which she truly smiled.
“I missed you so much.” His voice dropped as he said it. “I– I wanted you to wait for me. I know it’s selfish, but–”
She wanted to hear the rest, of course, except she needed to be closer. Her lips brushed his flushed cheek. She relished the hitch in his breath that followed, smiling unknowingly just before he slid his hand to her cheek and caught her mouth. Her hands slipped to the hem of his sweater and he laughed. He would call her impatient, she was sure, but he was busy saying something she had not expected instead.
“I should’ve told you that,” he murmured.
She did not allow this reflection to interrupt her wandering hands. She had known how he felt as soon as he had been guilty for feeling it.
“It just felt,” he continued, his voice far away, “like it was always supposed to be that way. This way, I mean.”
His tendency to vocalize such things reminded her that he was truly home. She had missed his wandering thoughts.
“I know,” she agreed.
He made a noise of contentment that was unmatched. She curled against him. What questions remained she could not find the heart to voice. And what was there to really ask?
“Stay with me,” she said quietly.
Always, she thought to herself. He knew that’s what she meant, didn’t he? Because she could not imagine it otherwise now.
His hand tightened around hers.
“You don’t have to ask.”