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Levi wakes up to the sound of birds trilling outside the window. Even after years of leaving the military behind, he has remained a light sleeper and an early riser: often waking up at dawn, and then falling asleep hours after darkness has settled like a veil around their small house.
Erwin, however, has shown a surprising propensity to sleep in. It took some years for him to get rid of (some of) his military habits, but lately, Levi usually wakes up to an unmoving warm lump next to himself. He rarely drags Erwin up with him. Quiet as he can — because light sleep is one of the habits that Erwin has not lost — Levi gets out of bed and potters about finishing his simple morning tasks.
Not today, though.
"Oi Erwin," he growls, voice still rough with sleep. "Get up."
Erwin stirs with an incoherent grumble. It makes a jolt of affection bloom through Levi's chest; watching Erwin wake is one of his favourite things in the world. But today is not a normal day, and he pokes the blanket-swaddled shoulder next to him.
"C'mon, it's market day today."
Erwin's eyes blink open slowly. Levi watches the blue of his eyes get clearer with lucidity. "I'm coming."
"Good." Levi flings the covers off himself and sits up. As he makes to get out of bed however, he is arrested by a warm hand grabbing his wrist like a vice. The strength of the grip makes another swell of — relief, or satisfaction, or something very close — balloon in his chest again.
"Good morning, Levi," Erwin mumbles, dry lips quirking into a small, tired smile.
Levi disengages his wrist easily, and runs a finger down Erwin's scruffy cheek, gentle where his voice is not. "Morning. Get up, you need to shave before we leave."
As he scrambles out of bed, he hears Erwin heave a put-upon sigh. He has to bite his lip to hide his grin, and with an effort manages to escape the lure of a sleep-warm Erwin.
They don't actually live in the little town by the sea. By mutual agreement, they had found a patch of land a few miles inland, not so close the ever-present smell of fish and saltwater could drive Levi mad, but not so far that they couldn't make a quick afternoon's trip to the beach.
"You wanna drive or shall I?" Levi asks after he's done hauling the sacks filled with excess produce from his garden into the back of their trusty automobile. Erwin is tying the laces of his boots and Levi watches with a faint ache in his chest that has been a part of him for decades now.
(He'd only seen Erwin with a stump for an arm for a few months. Years ago, at this point. And yet the image seems burned to his brain.)
"I'll go now," Erwin murmurs, straightens up just in time to catch the keys Levi tosses at him. He grins — he doesn't always manage to catch — and Levi feels an answering smile curve his mouth.
And when they get to the auto and Erwin waits patiently behind the steering wheel, Levi barely feels a twinge as he cranks up the motor, which starts with little fuss. By the time Levi slides onto the seat, Erwin is practically beaming as he shifts the auto into the right gear with a flourish.
This is going to be a good day, Levi thinks, unable to hide his own small smile.
The town is still waking up when they reach it a mere quarter of an hour later. Some shops have just been opened while the stalls in the open market are still being set up. Erwin parks neatly in the little paddock behind the bakery, which always opens earlier than most other businesses in town. As they enter through the service entrance (like they normally do), they wave at the boys helping pack the cart with baked goods.
"Mister Smith! Mister Ackerman!" The baker greets them with his usual enthusiasm. "You got here in time, or your bread would be gone with the rest of the deliveries! And no one to take them at your door!"
"Good morning, Arnold," Erwin smiles, while Levi only nods. "We'd never risking missing your incredible breads, you know that."
Arnold tosses his head back and laughs. "For that, you get one of Anya's muffins. On the house," he grins, already offering it on a small paper plate.
"Oh no," Erwin protests. "We couldn't—"
"Try it." Anya appears behind her brother, wiping her face from the heat of the ovens in the back. The left side of her body, from her face to presumably her very toes, is heavily scarred from old burns. Levi's heard people wonder how she is still so keen to work in close proximity to flames, but he doesn't question it. There is something to be said about doing what one is good at, and she is a master baker, burns or not. The unscarred side of her mouth twitches in its usual approximation of a smile when she says, "It's got a new filling."
"Oh?" Erwin looks intrigued, while Levi asks suspiciously, "What is it?"
Anya's smirk widens. "Surprise."
Arnold looks slightly less enthusiastic. "It won't be a problem, Mister Ackerman. Not like last time. It's only—"
Anya slaps her palm onto his mouth. "Surprise," she insists.
Last time, Anya's experimental stuffed muffins had given Erwin a bad bout of indigestion. It was the only time Levi had seen Anya's deadpan face look close to contrite.
But she continues to say nothing, only raises an eyebrow. Levi glares at her. Anya glares right back. Next to him he hears Erwin let out a soft sigh. Levi realises too late what that sigh means, and by the time he whips around to look at him, Erwin has already bitten off a large chunk of the muffin.
And as he watches, he sees Erwin's blue eyes widen, brighten. "Oh," he mumbles softly. "This is very good." He looks — exactly like he did all those years ago when he stood on a beach, looked at the expanse of the crashing sea stretching all the way to the horizon, and simply murmured, "Here."
When Levi turns back to the baker siblings, Anya is practically beaming.
"We'll take two more," Levi grumbles.
They drive to their favourite spot on the beach to eat breakfast together. It's a rather rocky spot, but it's good and stable for both their aging knees. They make their way to their preferred spot in low tide: a stretch of smooth rock as good as any bench.
"What is in it, do you think?" Erwin asks, voice thick as he bites into another muffin.
Levi takes another bite, taking care to hide his appreciative hum. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.
"Dunno. Honey?"
Erwin hums. "One of those spices Mikasa brought us."
Levi hums back this time, thinking. The sun is hanging low above the horizon, the sky still a glorious melange of blues and pinks and oranges.
"Moblit would paint this."
Erwin's voice is softer, his eyes brighter when he speaks. "He would."
"Would make a fortune selling the painting, too," Levi adds, and Erwin snorts a laugh.
"Not that he and Hange are in any need of it."
"Yeah." They fall silent again, sharing the bread and fruit between them, watching the sun rise higher and higher in the sky.
"You should write to them," Levi says after a while. "Invite them over." He keeps his gaze focused on a gull riding the sea breeze, but in his mind he's remembering the last time Hange and Moblit visited them. It's been years already, but Levi remembers vividly the ease with which the four of them had learnt to co-exist. Hange had been enthusiastic about the variety of sealife in the tide pools. Moblit had begun his stay in Hange's wake, drafting up all the scientific drawings they needed. By the end of their stay, he had discovered oil paints. Several of the walls of Levi and Erwin's cabin are now adorned by his stunning works of art.
(Levi's favourite is the one painting that has Erwin in it. Not that he's recognisable as such; just a smudge of a man in the distance. The rest of the painting is a sweeping view of the ocean at sunset, bold brushstrokes capturing the colours of the sky and the dancing waves and sparkling beach. It makes something raw and tender swell within Levi every time he sees it. Just — the picture of Erwin and the horizon and the vast, open sea.)
"Really?" Erwin quirks an eyebrow at him. "After your last letter?"
Levi frowns. He had been harsh in his last letter to Hange. He doesn't regret what he said, maybe only the way he said it. But their argument will never be resolved, he knows. And he remembers how loudly Erwin used to laugh when they were around.
"Yeah," Levi shrugs. "Do it."
"Alright." He can tell Erwin is pleased. "Try not to break their glasses again this time," Erwin adds, and Levi snorts a laugh.
"No promises."
Erwin's hand finds his and he squeezes it gently.
"Cardamom," Levi says, fighting back the shiver that always crawls through him when Erwin traces the stumps of his fingers.
"Hmm?"
"In the muffins. Cardamom."
"Oh. Yes." Erwin smiles at him, soft and fond. "Lovely."
By the time they return to town, the market is in full swing.
"This place is getting more and more crowded every year," Levi grumbles, fingers curled into Erwin's sleeve.
"You say that every year," Erwin says, a laugh in his voice.
"Because I'm right every year."
"Mr. Smith! Mr. Ackerman!"
Both Levi and Erwin turn to greet the familiar voice.
It's the town Postmaster, hurrying over to them with a couple of envelopes in his hand. Levi is already frowning by the time the man reaches them.
"Got your mail, sirs! No need for you to come all the way to the post office today." He beams at them. "Spend as long as you want here, eh?"
"That's very kind of you, thank you," Erwin says, smiling politely. Levi takes the letters and flips through the envelopes quickly.
It's not too bad. He recognises the handwriting on each and every one of them. One is from an acquaintance from their travels. Another from Gabi and Falco, whose handwriting is neat and precise enough to rival Levi's. Yet another letter from an acquaintance in Hizuru, and the last one—
"Ah." Erwin sounds carefully casual as he peeks at the letters over Levi's shoulder.
To Commander Erwin Smith and Captain Levi
The address below is in a different handwriting, but that one is even more familiar to him.
"Thank you," Erwin repeats while Levi glares at the offending envelope. "Have a good market day."
The Postmaster leaves them with a cheerful wave. Erwin turns to Levi immediately.
"Levi—"
"How did they know."
"What?"
Levi grits his teeth, whips the envelope up to Erwin. He takes it, smooths the edge that Levi has crumpled with his firm grasp.
"What do you— oh. I see."
Levi's argument with Hange is simple: for them to stop forwarding letters and invitations and other communication from Paradis to Erwin and Levi. It's been almost ten years since they settled down near this remote town, and Levi guards their location with every fibre of his being. Only Hange and Falco know where to find them. As far as Levi knows, they have kept their word about not telling anyone where to find the retired Commander and Captain. But they drew the line at answering any communication for them.
"I'm not your secretary or messenger, tell them no yourself," they'd told Levi shortly on their last visit. Which had evolved, stupidly, into a loud argument that ended with Levi (accidentally) breaking Hange's glasses.
It had ended there because, Erwin later observed astutely, neither of them truly wanted to fight. Not with each other at least, not when they were two of the four remaining veterans from… before. In their last letter, Hange claimed that Levi had inspired them into using monocles, clearly willing to move past the disagreement. But that letter had accompanied yet another summons disguised as an invitation from Paradis, and Levi's reply had been far from kind.
It had made Erwin sigh unhappily, and left Levi out-of-sorts for days. He doesn't want to fight with Hange, not for something that feels so petty. But years of being a military dog has carved its effects into his very bones. Every time Erwin sees something addressed to him as the Commander, it's like some portion of that light in his eyes is lost. He holds himself stiffer, becomes more quiet and tires easily, his eyebags seem deeper, his wrinkles harsh. At night he often wakes from trembling nightmares.
So, no, Levi doesn't care if his stance is petty. He'd have every painful reminder of the war scrubbed from their lives if he could.
Presently, Erwin grabs Levi's sleeve and gently draws him under the empty awning of the still-closed local teashop. Without further ado, he opens the letter then and there.
That it had been opened before being forwarded was obvious, and Erwin first reads a small folded piece of paper and passes it on to Levi with a huff of amusement. Levi unfolds it to read:
Levi,
Before you say anything, no, I didn't tell anyone you co-habitate. I suspect young Mr. Grice or his loud fiancée let it slip. Congratulate them before you yell at them.
Erwin,
The auto will need checkups soon. Let me know when convenient for you. Hope all is well, Moblit sends his regards.
Best,
Hange
Levi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course. It had to have been Gabi. All these years Erwin and Levi have received seperate letters, but one small slip would be enough. The Queen of Paradis is a sharp woman.
"Rico Brzenka is being made Commander," Erwin says casually, reading through the thicker letter in the envelope.
"Surprisingly good choice," Levi comments. Erwin hums in agreement, "I suspect the Queen has gotten tired of the latest round of government policy."
Levi snorts. "Fifth time's the charm?" He suggests and Erwin chuckles as well.
"I wonder," he says after a moment, his eyes far away. Levi knows this look, too. It's when nostalgia and guilt together hold Erwin's mind entangled, when he still feels a latent sense of duty to help the land of his birth through its many troubles. Luckily, this path of thinking has become easier to ignore over the years.
"C'mon," Levi says, folding up the letters and shoving them back into the envelope. "We'd better get the fruit wines before they sell out like last time."
Erwin blinks. "We can't have that," he agrees seriously. He turns and leads a relieved Levi back into the throughfare and all onwards into the market.
"Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith! I have a riddle for you!"
Erwin's already tired, Levi can tell by the slope of his shoulders, but he still smiles at the little girl tugging at his coat. "Oh? What is it?"
"What is dark when it's clean and white when it's dirty?"
Erwin pretends to think deeply while the other children with her wait with barely suppressed giggles. "I'm afraid I don't know."
"A blackboard!" The girl says triumphantly.
"Why, I never thought of that." The children laugh, several are already jumping in excitement. "Oh, me! Pick me! I have one!"
Erwin sends a quick, wry look at Levi, who just shrugs and takes another step back to make way for the kids. They're at the town square, waiting for the last of their purchases to be packed. The gaggle of children waylaid them quite accidentally, and Levi knows better than to stand in the way of the town's youngest generation and their beloved Mr. Smith. In the early years while the school was still being rebuilt, Erwin had volunteered to teach every subject he could. Every child and adolescent in the entire town recognises him by sight: the quiet but commanding man who taught them numbers or science or letters or history, or equally all of these things. In the past couple of years, Erwin has been spending less time at the local school through Levi's urging, but he still goes in to teach a lesson or two when he can.
"Do you want a riddle, Mr. Ack-man?"
Drat. One of the kids has found him.
"I'm not smart like Mr. Smith, kid," Levi says and shoos the child back toward Erwin, who throws him a fleeting glance of betrayal. Levi only smirks and turns away.
"Mr. Ackerman!"
It takes a moment for Levi to place the face of the rapidly approaching young man with a name. "Arslan."
"Good afternoon, sir," the boy — and he really is one, barely eighteen — says eagerly, taking his cap off his head. "Done with the market, then?"
"Waiting for the last few parcels," Levi confirms.
The boy, somehow, looks even more eager. "From who, sir? I'll get them for you!"
Levi has to bite his tongue to keep the sharp response back. Back when he and Erwin had just settled here, when Erwin busied himself with the school, Levi was helping with the reconstruction of several buildings. Even now he sometimes sees a brick or a paving stone and can remember setting it in place himself. At the same time, Arslan, then a precocious child of seven or eight, had for some reason latched onto him. He tailed Levi everywhere he went, jumping in to help him with his little hands, poised on his toes to complete any task Levi could give him. After a few weeks of this, his oldest sister had personally come to thank Levi for finally pushing the boy back into school. Even now Levi can't imagine why the boy sticks to him the way he does. Over the years his eagerness has mellowed but by no means lessened.
"It's fine, it's here," Levi states, seeing with some relief the smithy's assistant hurrying over to them with their packages of brand new doorknobs and cupboard handles.
"Do you need help loading up the auto, sir?" Arslan asks, his smile undiminished.
"Yes, if you could, Arslan," Erwin cuts in from behind Levi suddenly. He's smiling kindly at the boy, who is yet another one of his former pupils. "Thank you."
"Right away, Mr. Smith!"
Before Levi can get a word in edgewise, Arslan grabs up the packages and bags next to Erwin.
"Careful, there's glass in them!" Levi barks at his already retreating back.
"Yes sir Mr. Ackerman!"
"I could have done it myself," Levi mutters going up to stand next to Erwin once more.
"And deprive him of the chance to be useful?" Erwin asks innocently.
They are interrupted by the kids that still fan around Erwin.
"Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith! Over here!"
"Very well, one last riddle and then I must be going," Erwin says, not unkindly, then continues over the scattered awww's, "Mr. Levi is getting tired."
Levi has to fight not to roll his eyes. "Yes. My legs hurt," he agrees shortly. His feet are starting to feel sore, not that he'll admit it to Erwin, who has been trying to get Levi to wear his comfortable work boots to town over the pristine leather shoes that Levi prefers.
He isn't really paying attention to see who Erwin has picked for the last riddle, eyes trained beyond the bustling square to see if Arslan has returned with the auto keys yet. So he's only partially listening when one of the kids pipes up, "What has many, many, many teeth but doesn't bite?"
A moment passes, presumably as Erwin thinks about it. Then another.
And another.
Levi looks down at Erwin, to see him frozen stiff on the bench, his face an inscrutable mask, his eyes unseeing.
Shit.
"Erwin," he murmurs, and nudges his shoulder.
Erwin blinks, once, then twice more rapidly. "I don't know," he rasps.
"A comb!" The boy says with a large, proud grin.
"Oh," Erwin murmurs. Levi sweeps in, "Good one. Now go on, scram, Mr. Smith and I are leaving." He grabs Erwin's arm, who stands up when he pulls.
"Thank you all for the interesting riddles," Erwin says with a wan smile, but luckily the kids don't seem to notice anything amiss.
"Bye Mr. Smith! Bye Mr. Levi!"
Erwin waves at them while Levi herds him away. Fortunately, the bakery is not far, and they intercept Arslan on his way back with the keys.
"Everything's in the trunk, sirs!" Arslan says and Levi is — forcibly and unhappily — reminded of getting reports from his subordinates.
"Thank you, Arslan," Erwin says, his voice only a little stronger.
"Anything else I can do? I could drive you home!"
Levi grabs the keys from the boy's outstretched palm. "Nice try, brat. I'm driving."
Arslan's eager smile turns into something cheeky. "Worth a shot," he grins, then ambles away. "See you later, Mr. Ackerman!"
Levi only raises his hand in goodbye, his other hand still curled firmly around Erwin's bicep.
They set about to leave without further ado. Erwin waits in the auto again, this time on the passenger side, while Levi briefly checks their haul for the day. Arslan has admittedly packed everything in an orderly manner, even cushioned the parcel containing the glass items with one of their new blankets.
As soon as he shifts the auto into gear, Erwin says, "I'm sorry."
Levi doesn't take his eyes off the road. "For what?"
Erwin takes a moment to reply. "Losing myself there. It was…"
"I know." Levi cuts in. He can still hear the kid saying 'many, many, many teeth' in his head. He lets go of the wheel briefly to grip Erwin's wrist firmly. "It's fine. You're fine."
"Am I?" Erwin asks wryly.
Levi throws him a quick glance. "Aren't you?"
Erwin doesn't answer him.
They don't say anything else for the rest of the drive. When he maneuvers the auto into the shed next to the house (the last thing Levi had built with his own hands, four years ago), he turns to Erwin as the engine rumbles to a stop.
"Get inside, I'll get the stuff in and make us some tea."
"I'll help you bring them in."
"I have it, Erwin," Levi says, masking his concern with impatience.
"I can help," Erwin insists stubbornly.
"No, you're tired, and you'll only make this slower," Levi grits out.
A flash of hurt flickers in Erwin's eyes. Shit. Levi feels like an absolute asshole — maybe he's a little tired too — but then Erwin snipes, "I told you to wear your boots. Maybe then you wouldn't be so snappish."
Levi sighs harshly. "Let me do it, Erwin." They glare at each other for a long moment. "Just go sit down."
"I need air," Erwin says shortly, shuts the auto door with a slam and walks away.
Levi sighs again, then grits his teeth and begins to unload the auto.
It admittedly takes him longer than it used to. Once, he would have carried most of them in together. Now, his feet are too sore, his back too stiff, the stumps of his fingers starting to pulse with ache. He makes multiple trips as he deposits their purchases in their place: the wines and jams and other delectables in the tiny pantry off the side of the kitchen, the new blankets next to the laundry hamper to be washed once before use, the knobs and handles by the open cupboard door that needed mending in the first place, and on and on…
By the time he trudges back indoors for the last time and hangs the auto keys on their hook, Levi feels even more tired. He slips off his shoes with a muted grunt of relief, peels off his suit jacket, yanks loose his tie. He puts them away and stands for a long moment in the middle of the empty bedroom, hands on his hips. The bed is haphazardly made, the blankets not quite folded right. Erwin had done it while Levi was getting dressed in the morning.
His breath leaves him in a long, soft sigh. Then he turns and strides out of the room.
He tugs his workboots on and leaves the house by the back door, walking around and past his carefully marked planting beds and into the meadow beyond. The grass isn't as long as it will eventually get in the summer. Instead, the entire field is now filled with bluebells in bloom, a gentle breeze making them ripple in the fresh green grass. It is not a large meadow. A copse of new, narrow trees springs up not too far away, a copse that eventually melds into the woods beyond their little hamlet. And at the very edge of the meadow, surrounded by the gleaming lines of thin new trees, is a huge, spreading beech tree.
Sitting underneath this tree is Erwin.
He has his back leant against the thick trunk, his face turned slightly upwards at the unimpeded view of the countryside all the way down to the sea. The setting sun paints his entire form golden. He looks beautiful.
He turns to watch Levi approach when he's close. His face is unsmiling, but he wordlessly offers his hand. Levi takes it and sinks down on the grass next to him.
"I'm tired," Erwin murmurs, fingers tracing the stumps of Levi's fingers again.
"Me too," Levi admits. He tightens his hold on Erwin's hand and leans up, and from years of practice Erwin leans down to meet him halfway.
The kiss is soft, a mere brush of their lips at first. They settle into it slow and unhurried, calm and cosy. When they pull apart Erwin keeps his forehead pressed to Levi's. They stay like that for a while, eyes closed, breathing each other's breaths.
"I'm sorry for being short with you," Erwin whispers.
"S'fine. We're both tired."
"We're both old," Erwin counters, lips curving into a small grin that Levi can't help but kiss again, gentle but biting.
He leans back but not too far. "Good day, though." It is both a statement and a question.
"Good day," Erwin agrees. And Levi finally smiles back, quiet and content.