Chapter Text
The moon had been beautiful.
That was the official problem.
The unofficial problem was Captain Levi Ackerman standing beneath it like the world had personally offended him.
He stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms folded, dark hair touched by the night breeze. The silver light softened his face just enough to make him look almost gentle.
Almost.
Levi did not look gentle. Levi looked like he had agreed to attend Erwin’s moon-viewing gathering only because refusing would create more paperwork.
You, unfortunately, had been staring.
Not obviously.
You hoped.
“You’re still here,” Levi said.
You blinked.
He was not looking at you. His eyes were on the moon.
Still, somehow, he knew.
“So are you, Captain.”
“Tch.”
That counted as conversation from him.
Most of the Scouts had already gone back inside. There had been tea, rice cakes, quiet laughter, and Erwin’s calm voice reminding everyone to return without regrets.
Levi had spent most of it looking unimpressed.
Naturally, you had found that unfairly attractive.
“You don’t like the moon?” you asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You looked like you were judging it.”
“It’s a rock.”
“A beautiful rock.”
“A bright rock.”
You laughed softly.
Levi’s gaze shifted toward you.
Just for a second.
Then away.
That tiny glance went straight to your head, which was dangerous, because you were already fighting a losing battle.
From the corridor overlooking the courtyard, Erwin Smith paused.
He had intended to return to his office.
Instead, he found himself witnessing something he immediately wished he had not noticed.
You stood beside Levi under the moonlight, smiling like you knew something dangerous.
Levi stood beside you, pretending he did not care.
Neither performance was convincing.
Erwin cleared his throat quietly.
Neither of you heard him.
That was somehow worse.
“You know,” you said, “some people say the full moon purifies the heart.”
Levi gave you the kind of look usually reserved for dirty floors.
“Sounds like nonsense.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because I enjoy being right.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re strange.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure.”
You smiled at him.
He did not smile back.
But he also did not leave.
Erwin watched Levi not leaving.
Then watched you notice Levi not leaving.
Then watched Levi notice you noticing.
The commander slowly looked away.
He had led men into impossible battles. He had faced Titans, traitors, death, politics, and guilt.
Somehow, this was more difficult to endure.
“You stayed for the moon, Captain?” you asked.
“No.”
“For the quiet?”
“No.”
“For the tea?”
A pause.
You turned to him, delighted.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You hesitated.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I was considering whether answering you was worth the effort.”
“And?”
“Still deciding.”
You pressed a hand to your chest.
“Cruel.”
“Accurate.”
You laughed again.
This time, Levi’s mouth moved.
Barely.
Almost nothing.
But not nothing.
Erwin saw it.
His brows rose.
“Oh,” he murmured.
That was worse than he thought.
Levi Ackerman was amused.
You had made Levi Ackerman amused.
Humanity truly was entering uncertain territory.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Levi said.
That surprised you.
“You noticed?”
“You’re usually noisier.”
“Captain, that almost sounded like you missed my voice.”
“No.”
“Too late. I heard it.”
“You heard wrong.”
You tilted your head.
“Maybe the moon purified your honesty.”
“The moon should mind its own business.”
Erwin closed his eyes.
He should leave.
He absolutely should leave.
Instead, he remained where he was, trapped by a commander’s fatal weakness: strategic curiosity.
“You know,” you said, “there’s something I’ve been wondering.”
“That usually means trouble,” Levi replied.
“Probably.”
A beat.
Then:
“If someone kept thinking about the same person…”
Levi went still.
Only slightly.
But Erwin saw it.
You saw it too.
“…would that count as a distraction?” you finished.
Levi looked at the moon.
Then back at you.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether the person is worth the distraction.”
Your heart betrayed you completely.
Erwin’s hand tightened around the railing.
For a moment, even he looked surprised.
That was not the answer he had expected from Levi.
Apparently, neither had Levi.
The captain immediately looked away, as if regretting the words the moment they escaped.
You recovered with remarkable professionalism.
Which was to say, not at all.
“Captain.”
“What.”
“I think the moon might actually be working.”
He frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“The purification thing.”
“That’s still nonsense.”
“Maybe.”
You took a small step closer.
Not enough to invade his space.
Just enough to make the distance between you matter.
“Maybe,” you repeated softly, “but I did figure something out tonight.”
Levi watched you carefully.
“What?”
You smiled.
A slow smile.
The kind that made Levi suspicious.
“That certain captain I keep thinking about.”
Levi sighed.
Long-suffering.
Resigned.
Predictable.
“And?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
For one glorious second, Levi looked caught.
Then it vanished.
Hidden behind that familiar expression.
“Tch.”
You laughed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“No.”
“Sure, Captain.”
“No.”
“You understand perfectly.”
Above the courtyard, Erwin turned sharply away.
Not because he disapproved.
Not because he was angry.
Because, to his horror, he felt his own face warming.
This was ridiculous.
He was the commander of the Scout Regiment.
He had given speeches before death itself.
He should not be standing in the shadows, embarrassed because one of his soldiers was flirting with humanity’s strongest.
And Levi, somehow, was allowing it.
Erwin cleared his throat.
This time, both of you heard.
You turned first.
Levi turned second, expression immediately hardening.
“Erwin,” Levi said.
His voice carried warning.
Erwin stepped into the courtyard with the calm dignity of a man who had absolutely not been caught overhearing anything.
“Levi.”
You straightened quickly.
“Commander.”
Erwin looked between you.
Then at the moon.
Then back at Levi.
“I was simply checking whether everyone had returned inside safely.”
Levi stared.
“That so.”
“Yes.”
The silence became dangerous.
You tried very hard not to laugh.
Erwin tried very hard not to look like he knew anything.
Levi looked like he knew Erwin knew everything.
It was unbearable.
“The moon is quite clear tonight,” Erwin said.
You nodded eagerly.
“Yes, Commander.”
“Did it purify you?” Erwin asked.
His tone was perfectly serious.
Too serious.
You blinked.
Levi’s eyes narrowed.
Erwin’s mouth betrayed him.
Barely.
A faint smile appeared.
You understood immediately.
Oh.
The commander was not clueless.
He was teasing you.
Very gently.
Very politely.
Very dangerously.
“I’m not sure,” you said, trying to maintain composure. “I may require more observation.”
Levi looked at you.
“Observation of what?”
You smiled.
“The moon, of course.”
Erwin looked down.
His shoulders moved once.
Was he laughing?
Levi saw it.
“Erwin.”
“Yes?”
“Leave.”
“Levi.”
“I mean it.”
“I have said nothing.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“That is difficult to avoid.”
Your hand flew to your mouth.
Levi’s glare shifted to you.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I would never.”
“You would.”
Erwin took one slow breath, clearly deciding that retreat was the wisest tactical option.
“Well,” he said, “I will leave the moon to both of you.”
“Commander,” you said quickly, “you don’t have to—”
“No,” Erwin said, with the grave kindness of a man escaping a burning building. “I believe my presence is unnecessary.”
Levi muttered something under his breath.
Erwin’s expression softened as he looked at Levi.
“Have tea before you sleep,” he said. “Both of you.”
There was warmth in the instruction.
Understanding too.
Then he added, with the faintest hint of amusement:
“And return without regrets.”
You froze.
Levi looked murderous.
Erwin turned and left before either of you could respond.
For several seconds, the courtyard was silent.
Then you whispered, “Did Commander Erwin just—”
“No.”
“But he—”
“No.”
“He definitely—”
“Stop.”
You pressed your lips together.
Levi walked toward the building.
Conversation over.
Or so he wanted you to think.
You followed.
“Captain?”
“What.”
“Tea?”
He kept walking.
A pause.
Then:
“…Fine.”
Your smile grew.
Levi saw it without even looking.
“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“That one.”
“My normal face?”
“Unfortunately.”
Inside, the hallway was dim. Most lamps had already been put out. Levi moved soundlessly beside you, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable again.
The small kitchen still held the scent of tea leaves and smoke.
Levi lit a lamp, then reached for the kettle. His movements were precise and familiar. He rinsed the cups first, of course. Then the pot. Then checked the leaves with the care of a man preparing medicine, not tea.
You watched him with a softness you hoped he did not notice.
Of course, he noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That face again.”
“My face is under constant attack tonight.”
“You look pleased.”
“I’m being offered tea by a certain captain.”
He paused.
Barely.
Then continued pouring hot water.
“You’re still on that?”
“I’m consistent.”
“You’re annoying.”
“And yet you invited me for tea.”
His silence was devastating.
You smiled into it.
Levi set a cup in front of you.
“Drink.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
He sat across from you, his own cup between long fingers.
For a while, you both drank quietly.
This was different from the courtyard.
Smaller.
Warmer.
More dangerous.
The lamp painted gold over the table. Outside the window, the moon still watched.
You wrapped both hands around your cup.
“Captain?”
“You’ve said that too many times tonight.”
“Levi.”
His eyes lifted.
There.
That was different.
His name felt heavier without the title. More intimate. Less safe.
“I won’t ask anything unfair,” you said.
He watched you.
“I know you don’t like obvious things.”
His brow lowered.
“Obvious things?”
“Feelings.”
“Tch.”
“There it is.”
“You’re pushing your luck.”
“I know.”
You looked down at your tea, smiling faintly.
“But maybe that’s part of the chase.”
Levi was quiet.
Too quiet.
When you looked up, he was studying you with an expression you could not read.
“The chase,” he said.
“Mm.”
“You enjoy that?”
“Maybe.”
“You know chasing people can end badly.”
“I’m not chasing people.”
“No?”
You shook your head.
“Just one difficult captain.”
Levi leaned back slightly.
For a second, you thought you had gone too far.
Then he said, “Sounds like a waste of energy.”
You smiled.
“Maybe he’s worth it.”
The silence after that was not empty.
It was full.
Full of everything he did not say.
Full of everything you had dared to say.
Levi looked down at his tea.
“You’re strange,” he said again.
This time, it sounded different.
Softer.
Almost fond.
Your chest warmed.
“So I’ve heard.”
Outside the kitchen, down the hallway, Erwin paused again.
He had returned for a report.
That was his excuse.
It was a poor excuse.
Through the narrow gap of the half-closed door, he saw you and Levi sitting across from each other, tea between you, silence around you.
Levi looked tired.
But not unhappy.
You looked nervous.
But not afraid.
Erwin’s expression softened.
For all his strength, Levi rarely allowed anyone close enough to disturb him.
And yet there you were.
Disturbing him beautifully.
Erwin stepped back quietly.
This time, he did not interrupt.
“Don’t stay up this late again,” Levi said inside.
“Worried about me?”
“Annoyed by you.”
“Same thing, from you.”
His eyes narrowed.
But he did not deny it quickly enough.
Another victory.
You sipped your tea to hide your smile.
When you finally stood to leave, Levi took your empty cup before you could reach for it.
Your fingers brushed.
Barely.
A brief accident.
Maybe.
Neither of you moved for half a second.
Then Levi took the cup.
“Go sleep,” he said.
His voice was flat.
His ears were not.
You smiled slowly.
“Yes, Levi.”
He turned away.
“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“The one that says you think you won.”
You stepped toward the doorway.
“I don’t think I won.”
Levi glanced back.
You smiled over your shoulder.
“I know I did.”
For once, he had no immediate reply.
Only that small, almost invisible curve at the corner of his mouth.
Then:
“Tch.”
You left before your heart could embarrass you further.
Behind you, the kitchen remained warm.
The tea remained fragrant.
The moon, beautiful and nosy, shone on.
And at the end of the hall, Erwin Smith stood with his arms folded, eyes closed, looking as if he were carrying yet another burden for humanity.
Except this one was absurd.
Two soldiers.
One moon.
One pot of tea.
And Levi Ackerman, pretending not to be affected.
Erwin sighed.
Then smiled.
“Hopeless,” he murmured.
But he sounded pleased.