Chapter Text
For as long as Armin can remember, Eren has been the center of his universe; the fixed point around which he's based every significant decision of his life. Armin has never had much to pride himself on other than his intelligence, and he's thus aware his emotional investment in Eren is both a foolish and dangerous one.
Tonight they have delivered Eren from almost certain death for what feels like the thousandth time. Armin has to wonder if this time will be the last; if next time the enemy will win and manage to take Eren away from him for good; somewhere Armin can't possibly follow. Each day he lives in fear of that and fear of him - of what it will mean to lose him - even as he desperately loves him, needs him close.
But he's tired of being afraid. And if this is what it means to love, there’s a part of him that violently rebels; wishes he wasn't capable of it at all. Because love isn't wise, and Armin isn't sure how it is he can justify such a foolish attachment to another person - even Eren - when he knows it makes him weak, tired and afraid.
This is war, and so far it's taught them only that they are expendable; that their attachments to one another are meaningless in the scheme of things, and that if mankind has a hope in hell of victory then sacrifices must be made, emotional attachments abandoned. Armin wishes he could be wiser about this, removed and more like Commander Erwin; and yet for Armin a world without Eren is already a world without hope. Eren is where he finds his strength, and without him Armin knows he cannot fight.
He watches Eren sleep in the soft light of the tent. The fire's still crackling outside, and Armin can hear most everyone still awake, huddled around its warmth, drinking and talking and even laughing. He tears his gaze from Eren just a moment and looks to the sealed entrance of the tent where he can still make out Mikasa's steady shadow, standing guard outside. Her presence lends him a comfort that shames him. He always feels safer with her around; even if it means she hasn't eaten or slept in days. He comforts himself with the knowledge she'd only refuse it if Armin tried to push her to eat or sleep. She won't leave Eren's side until he's awake and she's seen him for herself; until she's certain he's safe, and still her Eren.
Eren stirs when he's not looking, and Armin's heart skips a beat as he hears him groan.
"Eren?" He tries to keep his voice a low whisper, isn't sure what damage Eren has suffered and if he'll even recognize him as Armin at all.
"Armin?"
Armin releases a breath, and his tense limbs soon relax. "Eren..."
Eren swallows thickly, coughs and groans again. It's a long time before he speaks, and when he does it's just, "So you found me, then." Flat and obvious and totally Eren, and Armin's relieved beyond measure to hear him sound like himself again.
"Of course we did. I promised you we would, didn't I?"
"Armin," Eren says again, and Armin waits for the words he's sure will follow, only nothing else comes.
"How are you feeling?" Armin asks in the absence of further conversation.
"Sore," Eren admits. "Confused, I guess. Hungry. Stupid. How long has it been, anyway?"
Armin sits up on his elbows a little, until he's sure Eren can see his face. "Three months," he replies, a little cautiously. The light catches Eren's throat and Armin watches him swallow.
"Three months, huh?” Eren pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a slow breath. “Didn't feel like that long."
"No, I expect not," Armin agrees. "We think they were keeping you unconscious a lot of the time." Eren makes a noncommittal noise and Armin quickly adds, "But we don't have to talk about that right now. You're here and you're safe and that's the most important thing. I expect they'll want to question you tomorrow, but try not to worry too much about it yet; I'm sure Mikasa won't let them anywhere near you until you've got your strength back."
A smile tugs at Eren's lips at that, and he says, "Mikasa. Where is she? Can I see her?"
As if on cue, the tent parts and there she is, hunched over and pushing her way inside, blades rattling awkwardly on her hip. She stands over Eren for a moment, eyes wide and shining, and breathes, “Eren.” She collapses onto him a moment later, ignoring Armin’s weak protests that she might hurt him, and holds him close to her, pulls his body up like it’s nothing and clutches him to her chest.
Eren doesn’t even grumble about it, or complain of being suffocated. He grips her tightly in his arms, holds her right back, and they embrace for so long Armin begins to wonder if he should quietly exit, go and fetch Eren something to eat and drink, inform their superiors he’s awake and give the two of them some privacy.
Vaguely, he wishes he’d thought to put his arms around Eren himself, the very moment he’d noticed he’d woken, though he’s sure now his moment has passed and that it’ll only be uncomfortable for Eren if he tries. He wriggles out from under his pile of blankets then and leaves them alone without interrupting.
Mikasa doesn’t leave until Eren pushes her into it, blithely remarks on how awful she looks when she hasn’t eaten, slept or bathed. Armin knows Mikasa doesn’t care about such things and yet eventually she succumbs to Eren’s demands and leaves to go and find some herself some food, maybe even sleep for a little while. She assures Eren she’ll be back early in the morning, though, and makes him promise he’ll get some rest. She squeezes Armin’s shoulder on her way out.
“Are you still hungry?” he asks once they’re alone again. He sits up beside Eren with his knees drawn to his chest, watching Eren as he lies back against the pillows with his hands tucked beneath his head.
“No,” Eren answers without looking at him. And then, “Have you eaten?”
“Mm-hm.”
Eren turns to appraise him then, narrows his eyes and remarks, “You’re different, you know.”
Armin blinks. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Eren evades, in a way that causes Armin to suspect he really does know. “Stronger, I guess. I mean - not that you weren’t before, it’s just… I don’t know, it’s different now. While you were gone Mikasa told me about everything that’s been going on over the past three months. You’re the reason the mission was successful—the reason they were able to save me. They all really respect you, you know. And I know Mikasa does. I do, too. I’m proud of you.”
Armin feels the tips of his ears burn hot. “I helped with the strategy,” he admits, aware he sounds a little breathless now, “but it wasn’t all me. If it weren’t for Mikasa and Captain Levi, there’s no way we’d have had the time to get you out. They were both amazing.”
“Mm.” Eren turns away from him again, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. It’s a while before he pats the empty space beside him and says, “Come down here, Armin; it’s cold.”
Armin does, pulls the blankets up over his legs and lies down next to Eren without hesitation. His heart pounds inside his chest, though he’s sure it’s just the residual adrenaline keeping him wired; the stress of the day they’ve had - the excitement of having Eren back with them again; of finally gaining some sort of victory over the enemy, however small.
A few more minutes pass in silence before Eren says, “You look different, too.”
Armin finds himself frowning, immediately self-conscious. The past few months haven’t been kind to any of them - sleep, food and peace has been in scarce supply, and Armin isn’t sure why it bothers him so much that Eren’s noticed, but it does. “Oh,” he says, and swallows around the dryness in his throat.
Eren rolls over to face him and says, “I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice is surprisingly gentle. “Your hair’s longer.” He touches the ends of it, and Armin jumps at the sudden contact.
“Oh! Well I, uh, haven’t had time to cut it,” Armin mutters, and clears his throat.
“I like it like this,” Eren soon decides, and lets his hand drop between them. Armin isn’t sure if he’s being honest or just trying to flatter him, make up for some perceived debt he feels he owes, which would be all too much like Eren.
“You are thin, though,” Eren says, before Armin can comment on it. “Are you eating?”
“As much as everyone else,” Armin says honestly.
“Hm. So in other words, not enough. Don’t worry,” he adds then, sounding determined, “I’m here now. I’ll make sure you have enough. I’ll make it up to y—”
“Eren, don’t. You don’t have to make up for anything; having you back is reward enough.” He can feel Eren’s eyes on him at that, and he rolls over onto his side to face him. There’s not as much room between them as he’d calculated, though, and the space between their faces suddenly seems alarmingly scant.
Eren doesn’t move to pull away, and neither does Armin. They stare at one another for a moment, and Armin notes that Eren’s eyes are unnaturally green, even in the semi-dark. He notes too that Eren is decidedly not thinner - he’s broader in the shoulders, even; a little taller, and looks more or less healthy. It’s a comfort, at least, to know his kidnappers hadn’t starved him.
“I’m sorry, Armin,” Eren tells him.
“What are you sorry for?”
“Everything. Dragging you into this. Nearly letting you get yourself killed for me. Again. That’s all I ever do, anyway. Get people killed… Force them into having to come save my ass…”
“You didn’t drag me into anything,” Armin says shortly. “None of this is your fault; it’s theirs. And I don’t regret helping save you. It wasn’t a chore, Eren. I know you’d do the same for me.”
“Yeah,” Eren says, “I would. Only difference is, you’re worth saving.”
“Eren—”
Eren catches Armin's wrist then, cutting off further reply. “You flinch when I touch you,” he quietly observes.
Armin can feel his face starting to get hot again. “I do?”
Eren shuffles closer, and Armin finds himself leaning away from him, startled and confused and unsure what Eren means by any of it. Eren laughs at him a little, though it sounds forced. “See? Just like that.”
“Oh.” Armin swallows thickly, wishes his heart would stop pounding so hard. He struggles to catch his breath. “Guess you startled me, is all.”
Eren presses his palm into Armin’s so that they’re holding hands, just the way they’d done when they were little boys. “Does it frighten you now?” he asks.
Armin frowns and tries to focus on their clasped hands in the dark. “Does what frighten me?”
“Me. Being close to me like this. Knowing what I am.”
It takes Armin a few seconds to realize what he means. When he does, he just says, “What? Eren, no. I could never be afraid of you.”
“No?”
“No,” Armin says again, and he means it. He’s forced again to wonder what Eren has been through over the past few months, what sort of poison his captors have been feeding into his mind, and he feels at once angry and sick over it, desperate to hunt them all down and see to it they receive their justice.
“Good.”
Before Armin can say another word Eren is pulling on his arm, with such strength and ease that Armin topples over ungracefully onto his chest.
“Eren!”
Eren looks up at him, an unreadable sort of smirk on his face. “What?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Armin demands in an unsteady voice.
“I haven’t seen you in three months,” Eren casually explains. The powerful thud of his heartbeat against Armin’s chest is all that gives him away. “Maybe I wanted to hug you, too. Like I did with Mikasa.”
But this isn’t anything like it was with Mikasa, and Armin isn’t sure how he knows it but he does. “Oh. O-Okay, then…” He forces his body still when Eren puts his arms around his waist and buries his face in his neck, takes a deep breath and holds Armin there for what feels like a half hour. It's nice, Armin thinks, just different. Nothing like they've ever done before.
It’s impossible not to react with Eren this close - his belly pressed to Armin’s, lips so close to Armin’s neck. He’s sure Eren must feel it too, that he knows what he’s doing and has somehow figured out that Armin’s feelings for him differ somewhat from Mikasa's. Armin isn’t sure how - it’s the first time he’s acknowledged it, even to himself.
His suspicions are confirmed, though, when Eren lifts his head and his lips brush Armin’s jaw. He sighs and brushes Armin’s hair behind his ear, cups his cheek with a calloused hand and gently guides Armin’s face towards his. Armin’s breath catches when their lips touch. He’s never kissed anyone on the mouth before and isn’t sure what to expect. It’s nice, though - or at least it is with Eren. His lips are warm and soft and gentle as his touch.
Eren kisses his upper lip, sucks gently on the lower one and kisses him once more before he lets him go, sweeps Armin’s hair back from his face again. “You know, I’ve wanted to do that for three months,” he admits. He brushes Armin's lips with his thumb.
“You have?” Armin asks between gasps of breath.
“Mm,” Eren admits, hand heavy and warm where it rests on the small of Armin’s back. Armin is suddenly aware that he’s between Eren’s legs, on top of him; of the minimal amount of clothing separating their naked bodies and what logically follows kissing. And Eren can't want that.
Armin awkwardly clambers off of him and back to his own small pile of pillows and blankets, willing to let their brief little moment of insanity go unremarked upon if it'll spare them the awkwardness of a forced conversation about it.
But Eren soon asks, “Are you pissed off?” and Armin is pushed to say, "No, just surprised." Among a million other things.
“Come here, then,” Eren urges, tugging on the corner of Armin’s blanket, "I want to hold you." He puts an arm around Armin and pulls him flush against his body, sighs deeply and rests his forehead against Armin’s shoulder. He's quick to fall asleep and Armin soon follows, too exhausted to dwell on the significance of their kiss, of any of this, when Eren's finally been given back to him and along with him, all of Armin's hope.