Work Text:
Hange rarely visits his room. Nowadays, at least.
But back then, when life was awful, but not quite that terrible, when shit was only beginning to approach the fan, they used to come to Levi nearly every night.
They’d stop by for a chat about their latest experiments Levi never admitted to give the slightest of fucks about, but always listened patiently. Or they’d barge inside without his permission, sprawl on his bed like it belongs to them, and spend hours complaining about whatever had been bugging them that day – stuck-up higher ups, Erwin’s continuous refusal of all of their most daring ideas, long days with no sun or long days with too much sun, or something as incredibly inconsequential as the poor state of their writing tools. Or they’d sneak inside while he’s not there to spring yet another stupid prank on him. Or they’d visit just to keep him company, and spend the evening filling up paperwork alongside him, occasionally teasing him for this or that. Or they’d tiptoe inside in the middle of the night, pale and shivering, and slip under his duvet, hiding their tear-streaked face in the juncture of his neck.
On one memorable occasion, they brought to his room what they themself called – a banquet, fit for the greatest – which consisted of a sweet pie they’ve bribed the cooks to take from the communal kitchen, a box of tea they bought during their latest trip to Trost, and a bottle of admittedly shitty wine they’ve stolen out of Erwin’s not so secret stash. The banquet, if it could be even called that, was at best adequate, but Hange’s company turned it into something Levi still looks back at fondly.
Especially, at times like these, when his interactions with Hange had grown far less frequent and their presence in his room – nearly nonexistent.
If they need him – to help out with some task, or give input on one matter or another, they usually send Armin or Jean to get him. And when they personally appear on his doorstep, it means only one thing – shit has not just hit the fan, it started flying into multiple directions too.
Another change is that Hange stopped entering his room without his explicit permission. They don’t barge inside with a merry, loud laughter, not anymore. Don’t sneak in, stifling giggles into the sleeve of their shirt.
No, nowadays, Hange always knocks first, then waits for his permission. And only when they have it, they, at last, cross the threshold.
This new ritual, in Levi’s opinion, is one part perplexing, one part utterly ridiculous and three parts absolutely devastating.
It’s not like Hange, not at all. They’re not shy or meek, or careful. They’re a force of nature – sunshine, rain and thunder all wrapped in one person.
And seeing them behave like that, especially when it’s just the two of them, makes Levi’s heart bleed.
It’s not his fault, or so Hange keeps insisting. It wasn’t him who named them next Commander. But it was him, who essentially thrusted them into that role.
Hange doesn't think he’s guilty, not once have they accused him, even when Levi had done his best to provoke them. But that’s just a part of who they are as a person – they toss on their shoulders the burdens of those around them, refusing to let go even when the weight of it is so heavy, it’s close to crushing them.
Levi can’t carry that weight for them – they would never allow him to. But what he can do – and what he will continue doing, for as long as the two of them are breathing – is be there for them. Always close, right by their side, ready to pick up the pieces when the world around Hange starts crumbling.
Hange doesn’t say a word as they enter. They head straight to his bed, plopping down on it face-first without even taking their shoes or glasses off. Levi would have reprimanded them for that, but whatever he meant to say gets lost in a deep, defeated groan Hange lets out.
His heart clenches at the sound, it’s nearly not dramatic enough to feel exaggerated, but he forces himself to ignore it. It’s not about his feelings, they do not matter now. Not when Hange clearly needs him so.
He stands up from his desk, leaving the half-filled paperwork forgotten, and slowly approaches the bed, taking a seat down on it, so close to Hange that his thigh nearly touches their head.
Hange’s silent, and so he keeps quiet too, wordlessly closing whatever distance is still between them. He reaches towards their hair, carefully unties the tie around it, unclasps the eye patch, plucks the glasses off their nose, grabs a hairbrush from his nightstand and gets to work, methodically and softly brushing through their hair.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he’s nearly done with all the knots, when Hange, at last, shows some signs of life.
“I have no idea how Erwin did it,” they murmur, voice muffled by his duvet. “I want to kill all those cocky bastards. And then myself,” they turn their head to the side, catching Levi’s eyes, and give them a sly, if a bit crooked grin. “Then you’ll become Commander.”
“If you do that,” Levi calmly replies, putting the hairbrush down, “I’ll drag you out of hell myself. Or run into the woods never to be seen again. I refuse to be in charge of that circus.”
“Circus? That’s something new. Do you consider yourself a part of our lovely crew?”
“Unfortunately,” Levi deadpans.
Hange turns to look at him fully, a spark that Levi missed so much twinkling in their remaining eye. It’s duller, less mischievous than it used to be before, but it’s there, and Levi counts that as an accomplishment.
Small, perhaps, utterly inconsequential on a bigger scale of things, but still, it’s something he feels proud of.
“Does that make you my jester?”
“Connie’s more fitted for that role. Sasha, too.”
“Hm. A strongman then? You know, the one that bends iron bars and stuff?”
“That’s Mikasa.”
“A fortune teller?”
Levi rolls his eyes. Hange’s clearly pulling his leg now and doesn’t even try to hide it. But they came to him in a bad mood, so, for once, he obliges them. “That’s obviously Armin.”
“Okay, okay, I got it now,” Hange raises to their elbows, leaning closer to him, a smile on their face growing wider. “You’re our fearless animal tamer.”
“Commander Hange,” he says with such obviously fake admonishment that it pulls a giggle out of them “I didn’t think you had such a low opinion about your subordinates. They might not be the brightest of the bright, but to call them animals…”
He shakes his head in disappointment too, adding to the effect, and Hange completely loses it, throwing their head back as they burst out laughing.
“I would never call them that!” they exclaim through laughter. “I treat all of my subordinates with utmost respect!”
Levi doesn’t answer them verbally, just raises a doubtful eyebrow. Hange starts laughing harder.
Loud and melodic, the sound that he hasn’t heard in ages but used to hear daily before doesn’t exactly heal his bleeding heart. But it does stitch back bits of fractured tissue.
“You still haven’t answered me,” Hange says after their laughing fit subsides a bit. “If we’re one large circus, what does that make you?”
“Me? I’m obviously the cleaning guy.”
“Of course,” Hange nods, chuckling once more, but this time – it doesn’t come out half as cheerful. It sounds rather forced. “Someone must clean up my messes, after all.”
Fucking holy Walls. Levi knows he can be hard to interpret right, but to have his intention be misunderstood that badly? And by Hange of all people?
Out of frustration, he reaches out to flicker them on the nose.
“If by messes you mean those disasters you constantly leave in your toilet, then I’m not the one who cleans them up. You have a special guy for that now.”
“No, what I meant—”
Levi cuts them off. Whatever Hange wants to say, he knows it’ll just piss him off even more.
“And what I meant is that I deal with external messes. You know, the ones that come from outside our circus.”
“I know what that word means,” Hange retorts, lips pursed. “I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” Levi agrees easily, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He won’t admit it even under the threat of death, but he likes seeing Hange like this - granted, of course, if he’s the one who got them in that state. For someone who enjoys teasing others so much, Hange themself is extremely easy to rile up. “But you’re unbelievably dense. And just in case your thick head doesn't know it,” he adds, stopping Hange from going on tangent about the size of their brain. “Just one word, and I’ll beat those old bastards for you.”
“Oh?” Hange’s face livens up. “You will be my savior? Swoop in through the window in the middle of the meeting, kick all the idiots in the face, then carry me away in your strong arms?”
Levi shrugs. “Sure. Whatever it takes to get that pitiful expression off your face.”
Hange closes their eyes with a dreamy sigh, falling down on a bed with their arms spread wide. “My knight in shining armor…” they murmur, voice light and airy.
With them so at ease and, at last, relaxed, Levi doesn’t deprive himself of an opportunity to reach out to ruffle their hair. It’s soft, clean – perhaps, the only change that came with their new status that he approves of.
Still sprawled on his bed, Hange opens one eye to look at him. “Can I stay the night here?” they ask in such uncharacteristically and annoyingly timid manner that Levi has to fight off another impulse to kick them.
Instead, he just tsks. “You really are dense. Just put some clean clothes on first. And don’t get too comfortable,” he adds, because even if Hange doesn’t act quite like their old self, his habit of being an asshole is far more difficult to get rid of, “I’ll throw your ass in the shower first thing in the morning.”
“You can’t treat your Commander like that!” Hange cries out in fake outrage.
Levi’s lips curl up in a smirk. “Good thing it’s just annoying four-eyes with me here then.”
For that, Hange gives him a smile – soft and warm, and grateful. It took them a bit, perhaps, but it seems they’re back to understanding him without words.
Good. Levi was getting worried for a minute.
Without getting to their feet, Hange skims out of their pants and takes off their coat and shirt, throwing them haphazardly in the direction of Levi’s closet. They miss the target by a mile, but Levi’s kind enough tonight to cut them some slack. He only calls them a menace and gives a weak kick to their sheen, as he stands up to pick up their clothes and pass them a shirt he specifically keeps in his closet for occasions like this one.
Hange accepts the shirt with another grateful smile, pulling it on without undoing the buttons. They press it to their nose, inhaling deeply. Freak, Levi thinks, but tonight, it’s accompanied by usual annoyance, but fondness instead. It’s been a while since he saw them act like that, after all.
Hange gets into his bed, pulling up the duvet so high only their head is peeking out. They’re out like a light almost immediately, Levi’s just gone to the bathroom to wash his face and change into his sleeping clothes, and when he comes back to the bedroom, Hange’s quiet snores fill up the silence.
He sighs, feeling suddenly exhausted. Hopefully, it’s the end of whatever that whole thing was for tonight.
He blows out the candle on his desk and crosses the room, not allowing himself to think for too long before he joins Hange on the bed.
They’ve warmed it already, filled the air with their scent, and when Levi goes to lie beside them, just close enough that their arms are touching, he feels their ribcage moving in sync with their breaths. And as he strains his hearing and listens past the snores, he catches the sound of their heartbeat too.
It’s nice, without a doubt, and as he closes his eyes, Levi’s sure the night would be peaceful. For both of them.
The world has undeniably changed, causing shifts in every aspect of their lives, and shit might be flying their way from ten different directions, but as long as Hange is here, right beside him, Levi doesn’t worry about drowning in it.
And if Hange gets hit by it, if they start thinking they’re close to drowning too, he’d be there to clean them up and get them out of whatever mess they find themself in.
For as long as both of them are breathing.