Work Text:
It’s a while before Eren notices he has the wrong basket, too long really. It doesn’t help that Levi’s black Calvin Kleins look almost exactly the same as Eren’s cheap Walmart undies. Except Levi’s hips are much smaller and Eren should have noticed how tiny they are.
And yet it’s not until he pulls a pair of Iron Man boxers that he realises that there is something wrong with his laundry basket. He’s pretty sure his basket is grey and this one is black. Maybe someone else’s undies were left in the dryer I used? He thinks to himself. And yet still, he folds the Iron Man boxers and sets them on top of the pile to continue his work. It’s not until he’s been frowning at a few delicate and worn out tshirts that he realises he’s holding Levi’s ironic LEVIS tshirt. He knows because it’s got the familiar hole separating away from the seam at the neckline and a black illegible scribble that Levi informed him says “love from Hange xxxxxx” in permanent marker on the back.
Maybe it’s that he’s only had four hours sleep in the last fourty eight. Maybe it’s that he’s had a massive crush on his next door neighbour since they both started doing their laundry at the same time on a monday evening. Maybe it’s that this means Levi must have his laundry, all of those ratty old underpants that he hasn’t prioritised replacing yet. Maybe he’s just embarrassed.
Maybe it’s because he’s a terrible person and a massive pervert.
Any of these reasons could be why he throws the tshirt aside and starts digging through Levi’s laundry. There appears to be nothing he hasn’t seen before apart from Levi’s underwear. But there is a very suspicious cotton delicates bag like the one Mikasa uses to wash her bras.
He almost leaves it alone. He almost takes the high road and puts everything back and delivers the basket to it’s rightful owner next door. But, of course, he doesn’t.
He almost doesn’t recognise what he’s come across until he pulls a pair from the bag. The lace is soft, overlaid on slippery silk panelling and all held together by some of the smallest strings of fabric Eren has ever seen. They’re black and sleek and expensive . Classy in ways he didn’t know a g-string could be classy.
His mind’s eye supplies him with a very pretty picture of Levi in panties, soon to be joined by a garter belt and stockings because he knows what they are, poking out the bottom of the bag. He spent too much time living with Annie and Mikasa to be able to assume the sheer fabric is anything else.
Eren puts his hands on his cheeks, g-string catching accidentally and slipping down his forearm. He’s on fire. His face in on fire. His hands feel cold even after handling Levi’s fresh, warm laundry. Worse than that, his cock is on fire too. It takes all of his willpower to ignore where it’s straining against his joggers. “This is bad. This is so bad,” he mutters.
His moment of crisis is interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Probably Levi looking for his laundry. His brain tells him. It’s only then that he panics, closing up the drawstring delicates bag and shoving everything on top of it to hide it from view as it had been before.
He runs to the door. On his way he thanks every god he can think of that his boner wilted somewhere in the madness before he throws the door open.
There’s a rather fidgety Levi on his doorstep. He’s not sure which of them is unable to meet the others eye but minimal eye contact is involved. Eren is sure his face is still on fire.
“I think we had a mix up,” Levi says after decisively clearing his throat.
“Y-yeah, here,” Eren shoves the basket at Levi, who sets Eren’s down on the floor for the swap. As soon as the basket is out of his hands Eren lets out a sigh of relief. He grabs his own, staring down into the basket to avoid looking at Levi’s face.
“Thanks, I’m going to- uh- I’m going to go,” Levi mumbles. Maybe if Eren were in his right mind he would realise that’s the first time he’s ever heard Levi trip up a sentence. Instead he replies with an awkward laugh as Levi turns away.
“Bye,” he manages, as strangled as it may sound before slamming the door closed. He practically sprints back to his bedroom throwing the basket down and collapsing on the bed. He’s about to let out a sigh of relief when he feels something tickle his ear. He pulls it out from behind his shoulder and spends a moment staring at the panties that he obviously forgot to put back in the bag. “God fucking damn it!”
Eren can’t find his Captain America boxers anywhere. Levi’s panties however seem to be haunting him from the laundry basket, cum stained and shame inducing. He has no self control.
He throws on his next comfiest pair instead, sprinting from his apartment and into the elevator. It’s only when he’s passing the mail boxes that he realises it’s Levi’s day off. Which would explain why he’s there, bent over and pulling out his mail in low riding joggers that expose his Captain America- his- his- Captain America- underwear-
Eren’s fucking Captain America underwear.
It’s really not Eren’s fault that he walks straight into the glass door.