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Levi’s always been good at keeping secrets. Growing up underground taught him how to move unseen, how to hide what mattered most. Erwin, for his part, is a master of discretion—every gesture measured, every word calculated. Between the two of them, they’ve survived conspiracies, betrayals, and the sharp scrutiny of a thousand eyes.
Which is why it’s almost funny—almost—that they really think they can keep their relationship a secret.
It starts as a necessity, or so they tell themselves. The lines between commander and captain must be clear; there are rumors enough without adding fuel to the fire. So they’re careful. Meetings late at night, doors locked, voices low. When they walk together, they keep a healthy distance. In the mess hall, they sit across the table, never side by side. No lingering looks, no soft touches.
At least, that’s what they think.
—
The trouble is, the Survey Corps is a family—messy, nosy, and, above all, observant.
Hange is the first to notice, of course. She’s always been attuned to shifts in mood, picking up on the tiny tells that slip past everyone else. She sees the way Levi’s gaze lingers on Erwin a half-second too long, the way Erwin’s shoulders relax when Levi walks into the room. She notices the missing teacups in Erwin’s office, the extra chair by the window, the faint scent of lavender that now clings to both their uniforms.
She says nothing at first—just watches, amused.
—
It doesn’t take long for the rest to catch on. Mike makes a joke one evening about “late-night strategy sessions,” and Levi’s scowl is a little too sharp to be convincing. Petra sees them walking the perimeter together, the hush between them easy and familiar, and files it away with a knowing smile. Oluo, for once, manages to keep his mouth shut, but only because Sasha bribes him with bread.
Even Eren, as oblivious as he is earnest, starts to wonder aloud why Captain Levi seems so invested in the Commander’s well-being. Mikasa gives him a look that says, Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.
—
One evening, after a particularly long day of drills, Levi slips into Erwin’s office just as dusk settles outside. He closes the door quietly, moving to stand by the window. Erwin glances up from his papers, face softening.
“Long day?” Erwin asks.
Levi grunts, but the edge in his voice is dulled by fatigue.
Erwin rises, crossing the room to rest a hand on Levi’s shoulder. For a moment, they just stand there, drinking in the quiet.
“You know,” Erwin says softly, “we could go for a walk. The gardens are empty at this hour.”
Levi shakes his head.
“Too many eyes.”
Erwin smiles, gentle and resigned.
“You’re probably right.”
They settle for sitting by the window, knees brushing, their hands just barely touching between the folds of a blanket Erwin keeps for cold evenings. The sun dips below the walls, painting the sky in stripes of orange and gold.
Levi lets himself relax, if only for a moment.
—
The next morning, Hange corners Levi outside the supply room.
“You know,” she says, voice low and conspiratorial, “it’s very touching, the way you two think you’re being sneaky.”
Levi freezes, hand tightening on the doorframe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hange grins, pushing her glasses up.
“Sure you don’t. But if you ever need someone to cover for you, I’m an expert at plausible deniability.”
Levi scowls, but the flush on his cheeks gives him away.
“Shut up, Hange.”
—
At breakfast, Petra slides into the seat across from Levi, eyes bright with mischief.
“How’s the Commander today, Captain?”
Levi doesn’t miss a beat.
“Annoying, as usual.”
She grins.
“If you ever want help sneaking out, Sasha owes me a favor. And Jean can keep watch—he owes me two.”
Levi sighs, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
Petra just laughs, her gaze soft.
—
By week’s end, Levi and Erwin convene in the office after curfew, a half-burned candle their only witness.
“I think they know,” Erwin admits, running a hand through his hair. There’s a rare note of nervousness in his voice. “Or at least, they suspect.”
Levi leans against the desk, arms folded.
“They’re smarter than they look.”
Erwin gives him a long look, equal parts fond and exasperated.
“Do you want to tell them?”
Levi considers, jaw working. There’s a part of him that bristles at the idea—at giving up the privacy, the sanctuary they’ve built. But there’s another part, softer and steadier, that aches for the freedom to just be.
He shrugs, eyes softening.
“Maybe we don’t have to.”
Erwin raises an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
Levi gestures toward the window, where the faint glow of lamplight spills across the yard. Outside, Sasha and Connie are tossing a ball, Jean and Marco are laughing over a book, and Hange is holding court with Mike and Moblit. There’s a sense of peace—a rare, precious thing.
“Maybe they already know. Maybe they just…let us have our secret, because they care.”
Erwin smiles, the weight in his eyes easing.
“I suppose that’s the best kind of secret. One that isn’t a burden.”
Levi nods.
“Yeah. Let’s just…enjoy it.”
Erwin steps closer, hands finding Levi’s. He squeezes, gentle but firm.
“I love you, you know.”
Levi ducks his head, lips twitching.
“Yeah. I know.”
—
Later that night, as they walk the halls together, they let their hands brush, let the world see what it will. There’s a freedom in the knowing glances, the way their friends look at them with quiet understanding.
Maybe secrets are overrated, Levi thinks, as Erwin’s hand finds his in the dark. Maybe the only thing that matters is choosing each other, over and over, for everyone to see.
And this time, he doesn’t let go.