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It’s been a long enough afternoon on the beach, in Levi’s opinion —an unpopular but apparently obvious one, that prompted Erwin to loudly suggest it’s time to go and refuse Levi’s help as he went to pack most of their stuff in the trunk a few minutes ago.
Hange is, of course, stalling. They’re kneeling at the shoreline, content to let shallow waves regularly ruin their last-minute, half-hearted attempts at sandcastles, more focused as they are on the yellowing sky of the upcoming sunset at the horizon. It doesn’t matter that they got a head start by jumping out of the car the moment it was parked to run straight into the ocean, or that they spent the last handful of hours running around between collecting various seashells, helping Erwin adapt to his new prosthetic in the wild waters until he finally got the hang of it, and trying —and failing— to convince Levi that covering oneself in sand was a great alternative to those silly lotions their surgeon is adamant that their burn scars still need prescribing to this day; they’re still milking everything they can out of this day.
Levi doesn’t bother urging them on. He knows how ineffective it is to rush them in those moments, and he has no desire to interrupt their quiet contemplation, not when it means he can take advantage of the relative privacy of this moment to close his eyes and take deep, regular breaths. It’s a repeated and doomed endeavor to try and reign in the stabbing pins and needles that have awoken in his old knee injury more than a couple hours ago now, that unfortunately didn’t regress on their own as he hoped they would —and instead migrated to the sad-faced side of those fucking pain scales he’s way too familiar with.
“Levi, you ready? Come on, let’s jump in the car and straight home!”
His eyes shoot open as soon as his ears pick up their voice closing in, and he takes in their damp mated hair and the thousands of grains of sand glued all over their skin, particularly all over their neverending legs.
“No,” he replies firmly, staring down at their knees he’s at eye level with, if only so he doesn’t have to look up at them and see the false nonchalance he knows awaits on their face that poorly conceals their worry —he’s always been shit at hiding bad flare ups from them, and the near-telepathic bond they share has only gotten worse throughout the years.
“What do you mean, no?” Hange asks as they tilt their head, their confused tone indicating it’s safe enough for him to look up now.
They’re frowning a bit, the concern not completely erased from their eyes yet —it likely won’t be until Levi’s sitting comfortably in the car, he guesses, and fuck does he wish he could teleport there right now— but Levi grabs onto the cane lying next to him with his good hand and uses it to point at their dirty legs. Before he can word his thoughts though, Hange misunderstands and clears their throat uncomfortably.
“I don’t think you can’t rely on your cane right now, Levi.”
The truth of that statement is undeniable, and Levi is well aware he wouldn’t be able to walk with so little assistance. He managed earlier today, but back then he wasn’t dealing with the amount of pain he’s currently in, and the wheeled chair they always bring along won’t be of much use to him on the sand.
But that’s not his fucking point.
“I’m not being stubborn,” he retorts, aware he sounds very much like he is, and adds, “I’ll even let you carry me princess style if you want.” Hange’s eyes light up with relief and something else entirely too appropriate for a public space at that, and he rolls his eyes at how easy they can be. “But if you think you’re getting in my car covered in sand, you’re gravely mistaken,” he finishes, lightly tapping their shin with his useless stick.
Hange Zoë, who didn’t grow survival instincts in the last few years it seems, has the gall to roll their eyes back at him. They still step back to pick up and fold the rainbow-patterned parasol Levi’s spent most of the day under, and throw him a fondly annoyed look once they’re done with it.
“It’s not your car just because you’re the one always fussing over it, Neat Freak.”
They’re right in the sense that it’s technically Erwin’s car, although he only recently started driving it again after years of thinking he would never be able to again following his amputation —until Hange and Levi looked it up and got a customized system installed to the left side of the wheel, that allows him to do so safely.
They’re still wrong, in Levi’s opinion, because he is the only one who insists on cleaning it an appropriate amount of times a week —including one scheduled right after this trip, because he’s not actually under any illusion about the state of the seats no matter how well Hange complies to his demands— whatever Erwin and Hange have to say about that habit.
“I don’t fuss, I’m just being a responsible owner,” he grumbles in reply, before he proceeds to stand up with the meager aid of his cane, with some difficulty.
“Well well well, looks like someone’s extra grumpy,” says Erwin behind his back, who must have been wondering what was taking so long to have come back and get them.
There’s an extra layer of playfulness to the jab though, like even he can’t hide how euphoric this entire trip has made him —which was the entire point of it, because it was obvious to both Hange and Levi that he missed swimming in the ocean even more fiercely than he did driving on his own.
“I think he’s jealous because he doesn’t have fancy cyborg equipment like we do,” Hange mocks gently, grinning and pointing at the prosthetic eye currently hidden from view by their eye patch.
That’s a recurring joke at this point, how Levi’s the only one whose body remains mostly whole —no matter his busted hand, his useless knee and his near unseeing right eye.
“Yeah, I’m so jealous I don’t get to cosplay a shitty pirate right now,” he scoffs.
But Hange just grins wider, unaffected —well, not affected in the way he wishes they were.
“Leviiiii,” they purr instead, and he grits his teeth at their insufferably flattered tone and batting eyelashes, “you think I look like a pirate?”
“I said shitty pirate,” he corrects, knowing he’ll be ignored.
He’s proven right in the next moment, when Hange links their arm around Erwin’s waist and leans heavily against him. “Say Eyebrows, didn’t Levi use to have the biggest crush on that Legolas guy in the movie where he played a pirate?”
Levi groans internally at that, and sends a warning glance Erwin’s way.
“Oh, he sure did,” Erwin easily betrays him with a smirk.
Hange fake-gasps before actually giggling, giddy that they’ve managed to drag a particularly agreeable Erwin into their scheme to annoy Levi. It is a rare occurrence that the both of them join forces like so against him, although not rare enough in Levi’s opinion.
“You don’t think… Oh my God, Erwin! Do you think Levi has a crush on me?”
Levi sighs loudly at Hange’s conspiratorial fake-whispering, unwilling to be subjected to their terrible acting for another second, and pinches the root of his nose.
“We’re married, you moron,” is what he chooses to go with.
And was evidently wrong to, if Hange’s exaggerated pout is anything to go by, along with their outrage cry of, “That doesn’t answer the question!”
“Also, technically we’re not married,” Erwin points out, apparently dedicated to fully embracing Hange’s shenanigans.
And of course he would, because Erwin’s never met a semantic point he could resist to make, right?
Because the three of them aren’t married in the legal sense of the word, even though Levi itches to point out that they’ve gotten their wills drafted to act exactly as if they were, should anything happen to any of them, and that Erwin himself was the one who introduced that idea about a year into them moving in together. He even did so with such a pragmatic and unromantic speech Levi had to colorfully ask for clarifications as he didn’t speak administrative bullshit before a tearful Hange explained that their idiotic boyfriend was apparently presenting them with a paperwork-nerd proposal, Levi.
“You’re so right!” Hange piles on, delighted by this new angle. “Who’s to say if you even like me, then, Levi?
“I don’t fucking like either of you right now, that’s for sure,” Levi settles for, and ignores the pair of whining reactions that gets him —man, Erwin really is committed to the bit, isn’t he?
He turns around and starts walking back on his own to the car, despite his instincts and unsteady feet. He doesn’t mind the banter usually, has gotten used to it as Hange’s love language and the sure proof that Erwin’s feeling uncharacteristically but deservedly relaxed whenever he indulges in it so. But the years-old complex fracture that never properly healed and the nerve damage currently sending electricity shocks bidirectionally to his toes and his hip, growing more intense every second they linger on the beach, are eating away at his patience more easily than he can bother to hide, so he’s got no choice but to move.
Predictably, it only take a couple of steps for his heel to land just the wrong way, turning the sensation from a barely tolerable seven into an agonizing spark of nineteneleven, and for his cane to stop balancing him out sufficiently. He can see it happen moments before it does; can only helplessly feel himself folding onto his own body as the ground grows closer and closer to his face.
The sound of soft gasps and dropped items reach his ears right before strong shoulders show up on either side of him to alleviate the fall, and he huffs out in relief as Erwin and Hange help him stand back up and the sharp bite of pain recedes back into bearable territory.
“Shit. How ridiculous a fall was that, huh?” Levi jokes once he’s upright again, naively hoping that’ll distract both of his partners from his burning cheeks.
It won’t, of course, but they’ve all known one another too long not to know how to handle those mishaps.
“Not even reaching your top ten, actually,” Erwin eventually indulges.
Hange chuckles, and nods to Levi’s legs.
“Look! We match now, Not-So-Neat Freak.”
Erwin retreats from his position as Levi’s second crutch to pick up the towel Levi was sitting on earlier, shaking it and using it to gently swipe at his skin until it’s mostly clean.
“Not anymore,” he declares before leaning forward, taking Levi by surprise by punctuating that sentence with a tender, sea-salt flavored kiss over his lips. “And I promise I’ll make Hans clean before I let them enter the car as well.”
The soft smile on Hange’s face merges into a frown at the threat.
“Hey! I will only comply if I get a kiss, too,” they immediately bargain.
Levi rolls his eyes at their predictability, and shakes his head when Erwin happily swoops in to kiss them, with a flash of tongue peeking from his parted lips when he pulls away.
“Will that do?” Erwin asks with an arched eyebrow.
Hange pretends to fan themself with their free hand in reply.
“When you two are done being ridiculous,” Levi chimes in, “I’d really like to get going now.”
Understatement of the century, actually.
“Hey Levi, do you think Erwin has a crush on me, maybe?” Hange asks even as they bend to hook an arm behind Levi’s knees, gently coaxing him into the promised princess carry he agreed to earlier.
He doesn’t answer, too busy staring at Erwin who actually laughs out loud as he heads back to the car ahead of them with the rest of their things, an almost spring to his steps that Levi’s sure he’s not the only one to notice.
“Do you think lover boy’s aware he’s factually skipping over there?” Hange indeed observes, half-surprised, half-awed.
Erwin would rather die on a regular day than show so much emotion consciously, and they both know it. He must have really have enjoyed this little trip to be so openly joyful about it, and the rare spectacle of this child-like happiness in him warms Levi’s heart the way little else does in this world.
Hange starts to follow after him, mindful of their steps and not to jolt the useless lump of human flesh in their arms too much —and a younger Levi would have hated how much he loves the consideration of their every gesture, the care he reads in the sure but surprisingly delicate hold of their embrace.
“Seriously, Levi, you okay?” they ask after a bit.
“I’m fine,” is the reflex answer years of chronic pain won’t let him change, not even then.
They snort out a laugh, mocking themself for asking a question they already know the truthful answer to.
“No, you’re not. I’m sorry today was such a bad one,” they say, the fingers over his shins tightening in comfort Hange’s never been able not to give.
“Not your fault,” Levi argues, taking the first step of the inevitable dance he’ll always participate in when faced with such blatant affection he’s still learning not to read as pity, “we all get these from time to time.”
“Yeah, which is why you should have told us when it started to hurt,” Hange retorts without missing a beat, making their own choreography take over his own. “We would have gotten home earlier if you’d said something.”
And yes, Levi knows that much. He knows his flare ups are taken as seriously as Erwin’s gut-wrenching reaction to his surges of phantom limb pain, as Hange’s frustrating agony when the most mundane of gestures triggers immovable tendons stuck under rigid grafts that won’t let them move the way they want.
He knows the minute he would have uttered the slightest actual complaint, that Hange would have pointed out they have enough of a seashell collection at home after all, that Erwin would have suddenly remembered a presentation he needed to put together for next week. They would have shortened their trip without hesitation, without bothering to come up with more believable lies than the ones above because they would have known Levi wasn’t buying them anyway, and they would have deprived themselves of something for the sake of his own ruined flesh acting up randomly. That’s exactly why he didn’t speak up —that, and his own ego that tricked him into thinking he could handle the consequences of vicious nerve damage that’s been kicking his ass for years with nothing but breathing techniques that, as much as they can help, aren’t a full-proof method.
He sighs, relaxing in their arms, unwilling and unable to rile them up into an actual fight when he’s promised himself years ago to accept such indisputable stands as love, and nothing else. He reflects that Erwin calling his appreciation of that pirate character a crush was a bit of an exaggeration, but he allows himself to picture Hange as one for a minute, and must admit that’s a movie he’d certainly watch. He could do without the teeth worrying their lower lip though, without the guilt that writes itself over the lines on their face that simply focusing on making their way to the car doesn’t explain.
“Stop it,” he says in a more gentle tone than before, reaching to touch his index to their forehead and smoothing the streaks there temporarily, “it was worth it.”
Hange narrows their eye at him, clearly not buying it, and Levi’s almost insulted that they would dare to question such claim from him.
“Really?” They taunt, reaching the concrete sidewalk and holding Levi tighter when he expected to be let down to walk the last few meters on his own. “Come on, you don’t even like the beach on a good day.”
That’s also true. He’s not fond of cooking himself under the scorching sun, doesn’t like the way sand sticks to his —or his most physically affectionate lover, he thinks as he glare pointedly Hange’s way— skin, and apart from the practical challenge it can be for him to get about on the beach, he also isn’t the biggest fan of the concept of spending a day within earshot of half naked strangers.
“I don’t,” he agrees, and a smile latches itself at the corner of his lips when they reach their parking spot and he can hear Erwin whistling to himself as he closes the trunk, the same earworm Hange sung out loud all afternoon. “But I like seeing you two this happy.”
Hange sighs even as Levi catches the pair of flip flops Erwin tosses his way, and lets him down once he’s put them over his feet. Their arm stay close to his waist while he tests his balance again on his own legs and the cane he carried along, and only retracts once he gives a curt nod.
“You’re such an old sap,” they reply, brushing their lips to his temple. “I’m gonna tell Erwin.”
“Tell me what?” comes his expected eavesdropping voice as he approaches, a water bottle in his hand.
Levi glares at Hange, who’s making their way around to the side of the car without a care in the world about his murderous stare.
“That I called shotgun,” he claims.
“Here, Lev,” Erwin distracts him from Hange’s disagreeing chortle, giving him the bottle and showing a couple of pills left behind in his palm. “I’d packed painkillers in case my shoulder hurt after today, and I figured you wouldn’t have brought your own.”
Levi doesn’t have enough fight left in him to argue on needing the chemicals right now, so he dutifully swallows them; not without a protest of “You’re both so fucking annoying,” that he knows Hange’s ears have caught as well.
“We love you too, babe!” They call back from their spot on the side of the car, where they’re opening the back door and gesturing for him to get in.
“If you love me so much, why aren’t you taking the backseat?” He protests anyway.
He’s usually sitting up front if he’s not driving, both out of his own likeness to copilot, and to prevent Hange from abusing the DJ privileges they equate to having access to that seat.
“Because they don’t look like they’re about to crash after a day of clenching their teeth against a flare up,” Erwin provides.
The light mood the day’s put him in is temporarily hidden behind his no-nonsensical mask when Levi’s eyes settle on his face, the one that means arguing is pointless and normally only makes Levi want to push back even more.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles instead, more for show than in any kind of hope he’ll be believed.
“Of course you are,” both Erwin and Hange reply, the former gently pushing between his shoulder blades to direct him towards the latter’s awaiting smile and the mocking bow they dare to give as he takes the seat he’s been assigned.
They really are fucking annoying, he thinks to himself sullenly once Erwin starts the engine, ganging up on him like that when he’s not the one who swam and ran around all day and is therefore, theoretically, in better shape than either of them are right now.
The relief from the medicine kicking in about ten minutes into the hour drive home, combined with the soothing sound of Erwin and Hange’s obnoxiously mindful, hushed conversation at the front have Levi giving up any pretense around that timestamp, letting his consciousness slip through his fingers as his body finally allows him to rest.