Work Text:
As jobs go, this should be the simplest gig Levi’s pulled since Brussels. Get into this gala in the heart of Paris, neutralize the target, get out.
There’s just one problem: he has no fucking idea who the target is. Not even what he looks like. Levi’s chasing a ghost.
Literally.
“They call him the Ghost,” Levi’s fixer says over their encrypted line.
“Why,” says Levi, “he fake his own death or something?”
“Because nobody’s ever seen him,” says his fixer. “All we know is, he’ll be at the gala, and he’s a member of the Syndicate, and he’s planning to assassinate Georges Montblanc. You’re going to stop him before he does.”
Levi wants to ask how his team knows the Ghost will be there, if the Syndicate is run so tightly that nobody has a name. But that kind of question is beyond the mission parameters, and he doesn’t give a shit. It’s better not to get his fixer talking. Levi just says, “Didn’t think the Syndicate was big on assassination.”
“Well, this time, they are.”
Levi’s familiar with the Syndicate, a network of anonymous anarchists who operate almost entirely online. They’re constantly digging up and distributing incriminating dirt on corporations, billionaires, assholes. The kind of people who fucking deserve it, Levi’s always thought. The Syndicate’s redistributed the contents of offshore accounts, used leverage to bully corporations into environmental neutrality. Levi kind of admires them, honestly. He’s wondered if they’d ever take on someone like him.
But with his history—yeah, right.
Although apparently they need assassins now. Maybe he should send his CV.
He shakes his head. This job will net a hefty paycheck, and it’s been too long since he’s wired a donation to the Kuchel Ackerman Community Foundation.
He says to his fixer, “Get me the guest list.”
The guy tuts. “Really? You think the Ghost would actually put himself on the guest list?”
Levi hates explaining things to people who should already understand. “Get it to me so I can recognize anyone at the gala who isn’t on it.”
“Even you can’t memorize a guest list this size in thirty-six hours.”
“Not if you keep wasting my time. And I’ll need the work schedule for any of the building staff on the clock that night, too.”
“That’s like, two dozen kitchen and serving staff.”
“Not just them. The entire building. Front desk, security, night shift janitors, people who work late on the corporate floors. Everybody.”
“What else you want?” his fixer complains. “Reservations at the Jules Verne?”
“An advance,” grunts Levi. “If it’s a gala, I need a suit.”
“Aw,” says the fixer, “don’t be like that. Can I at least get a ‘please?’”
Levi rubs his temple. This guy sometimes reminds him Zeke, and how Zeke always enjoyed holding information over Levi’s head just to watch him jump. In dreams of Paradis, during that shitty time in those shitty woods, Levi can ignore the bastard. Here, he’s got no choice but to play the game if he wants to finish the job.
He hisses, “Please.”
“There, was that so hard? You’ll get your advance. And your rolodex of building staff, once I can rustle it up. Stand by for the guest list first.”
Levi hangs up.
In the silence of his shitty apartment, he runs his face through his hands, and tries not to think of how his entire life would be one big disappointment to one of the only people he’s ever given a shit about.
Another ghost.
Not even a ghost. Ghosts are people who actually used to exist.
Levi’s ancient brick of a laptop pings. He sits down in front of it and downloads the encrypted file with the guest list.
***
The dreams started when he was eighteen.
It wasn’t every night. It still isn’t. But once or twice a week, he’s just—there.
Weightless, stomach clenched against the pitch and yaw of lightning-fast anchors, hurtling him through the sky. Blood on his hands, silk around his neck. Long shadows cast by pale walls, miles and miles of them, on and on and on. Shielding his eyes against a brilliant-white sun, pouring down through a house-wide hole in the earth to warm his face, his back in darkness.
Enough people to fill a lifetime. One way or another, every last one was torn away no matter how hard he fought. Eyes—he can see all their eyes. Lifeless and staring, if there was anything left to bring home. Hollowed out, when it was those creepy fucking giants.
Blue eyes, too. Dark and deep enough to submerge himself in.
Some nights Levi wishes he could.
He hasn’t breathed a word about the dreams since he was a teenager, not after the first mention earned him startled drunken laughter and then confusion from his friends. He’s Googled it, once or twice, to see if he was losing it or if recurring dreams like this were normal.
They certainly weren’t normal. And Google turned up nothing about anyone whose names he could remember. Well, not quite true—he found about a thousand Erwin Smiths, but after glancing through dozens of photos of vaguely German-looking people of all ages, he’d shut his laptop, feeling ridiculous.
But how else could he explain it? Did he honestly just—make up all these people with these rich lives, with their histories? Some nights he’s woken with sobbed shouts after reliving the moments he lost them. If they aren’t real, how the fuck does it hurt so badly? How can he be so furious at Zeke even with that oath fulfilled? How can he feel the loss of Farlan and Isabel as keenly as if he really knew them; how can he miss Hange’s friendship so badly when, in most of his dreams, they’re too loud, too close, too manic?
And why can’t he stop thinking about Erwin?
It’s Erwin he dreams of most. Quiet moments, nothing moments. Reports finished by candlelight. A few memorable evenings at a bar. Maps pored over, tea set down steaming and fragrant. There was lemon, once, and it was a gift, an extravagant expense.
Those last moments, too. That crate behind that crumbling house, the texture of the gravelly dirt beneath his knee, the grass between Erwin’s boots. It was summertime. Early morning, still, before the heat of the day could soak into his cloak. Cadets screaming behind him, that great wall trembling with impact after impact. Every time he dreams of that moment, words hover on the tip of his tongue—words he never says, because it isn’t the time, and Erwin never asked, and never will.
He’s tried to say them. Tried and failed. In that way, it’s less a dream and more a memory. Like he’s reliving it. He thinks of it all in the past tense, as things that truly happened.
But even given the chance to speak his heart, he’s not sure what he’d say. I love you is so fucking inadequate for the man who brought him into the light, gave him the stars. Gave him a chance. I want you is too base even if it’s true. Some nights, he’s woken not from nightmares, but from a pleasant warmth. Erwin’s arm around his shoulders, stumbling back to the barracks after a few too many drinks. Erwin asleep at his desk again, and Levi’s fingertips in a slow, greedy pass through soft blond hair before drawing back in a guilty panic.
Sometimes his dream-self makes it all the way back to his quarters for a furtive jerk-off, fast and dirty and ashamed. When he wakes from those dreams, panting, still awash in the sense-memory of Erwin’s hand on his shoulder, of being looked at like he’s cherished, maybe even desired—he takes his time.
He imagines it until he can feel it. He can’t decide what he’d rather have: Erwin opening him slowly, taking his time until Levi is begging for it, or Erwin working impatiently, desperately, refusing to treat Levi like he’s fragile. Giving it to him hard and brutal, because he knows Levi can take it.
Much as the dreams haunt him with regret, they’re not all bad. Sometimes he dreams of hours spent with people he loved, and still does. And much of what he learned in the capital’s Underground comes in handy here and now—how to quickly memorize large amounts of information, how to avoid being noticed, how to pick simple locks, how to track a target.
He just wishes his employers were worth his time. Levi doesn’t enjoy protecting scumbags for a living, but it’s what he’s good at, and there’s a damn lot of money in it. Through Levi, at least the cash can go somewhere it actually does good.
He tucks the thought away; that’s a guilt trip for another time.
He’s got a job to do.
***
Levi’s always liked Paris. His French is decent enough, and he’s found that most Parisians are desperate to stay out of each other’s business. He doesn’t mind the view, either, and in this place, it’s sparkling. One wall of the gala is floor-to-ceiling windows—unheard of, amidst all the Haussmann architecture. In the blue dark beyond the windows, the open space of the Champs-de-Mars leads straight up to the Eiffel Tower, a postcard view. Sparkling. It’s eight o’clock.
Of course this Montblanc bastard has the kind of cash to afford a venue like this, and hire Levi to protect him.
The gala is in full swing. A hundred guests in gauzy finery and a fog of perfume, an actual string quartet filling the air with Haydn. The backlit bar is a circle in the center of the glowing, low-lit room, not the most ideal angle, but Levi’s situated himself there with a view of Montblanc.
He could’ve done this in secret, hidden among the ductwork; he’s small enough, and according to the blueprints he studied, the building’s insides are gutted and new enough that it probably could have worked. But looking like you have nothing to hide goes a long way toward the success of a mission.
From his perch at the bar, his unsipped drink in hand, Levi has counted half a dozen of Montblanc’s security detail lurking in the low-lit shadows, and another half-dozen in party finery, blending in with the crowd.
It never occurs to these rich fucks to just not go to the party, if their life is in danger.
At least so far, he’s recognized the people here from the guest list. It’s highly unlikely that the member of the Syndicate would be on that list, because it’s all certifiable crooks and bastards. Members of the Syndicate doesn’t strike him as the same, unless there’s some kind of Bruce Wayne bullshit going on.
And Montblanc is certainly no Bruce Wayne. From Levi’s research, Montblanc’s got his own crime ring, he’s financed his own oil wars. Numbers just came out that his company is responsible for a nauseating 15 percent of global carbon emissions. The company released a statement full of placating bullshit and continued to do nothing.
It’s almost tempting to let the Syndicate finish the job.
Levi swallows against the knot of his bowtie and picks up his drink again. Montblanc is surrounded by fawning hangers-on, and Levi is close enough to move if any of them do. He watches as a server offers Montblanc’s little group a silver tray of canapés.
Silver tray empty, the server turns toward the kitchen doors, his calm brown eyes briefly skimming the crowd.
Levi’s heart makes a leap for his ribs.
That server wasn’t on the list of staff working tonight, but that’s not what’s made Levi freeze.
He’s seen that server before.
In his dreams.
In the dreams, this guy—Moblit, Jesus, that’s Moblit—is always hanging around Hange. But around Levi, too. Levi can recall a hand on his shoulder. Quiet words after one of those excursions beyond the towering walls. I’m so sorry. They were good soldiers. Nights playing cards, when they had the time. The man could put away more alcohol than Levi’s ever—
Levi slides out of his seat before he can stop himself. Moblit is already disappearing back through the swinging doors that lead to the kitchens, so Levi follows him.
Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he’s just seeing shit. But he needs to know.
If Moblit is real, then maybe…
Maybe Erwin is, too.
Fuck. It’s too ridiculous a thought to entertain. And he’s likely drawing attention to himself as he cuts straight across the crowd, catching a door as it swings and pulling it back open.
The service hallway is long and taupe, a bright and sharp contrast to the low, sparkling lights of the party. The vaguely savory scent of the kitchen mixed with industrial-strength dishwashing detergent fills his nose. At the end of the hall, Moblit is just shouldering back into the kitchen. “Hey,” Levi says, but it catches, and other servers pass him, frowning at him—another problem if he’s going to finish this damn job—but he hurries forward. “Hey. Moblit!”
Levi reaches the double kitchen doors right as they swing wide open, and he reels back just in time—
—to look up into blue eyes.
Widening blue eyes. It’s—
“Levi,” says Erwin, soft with shock, and Levi’s entire world flips the fuck upside-down.
It’s Erwin.
It’s fucking Erwin.
Erwin is here, and he—he knows Levi’s name, he—how the fuck does he know Levi’s name? How does he—what does this—he wasn’t on the guest list—
Levi manages to rasp, “Erwin?”
The dreams have hardly done Erwin justice. Levi had forgotten those ridiculous brows, the strong angle of that nose, the—shit, the broadness of those huge shoulders. Ridiculous shoulders. Who the hell’s allowed to have shoulders like this?
Erwin’s gaze is locked on his own, shock giving way to a kind of desperate softness that hits Levi square in the chest. Erwin says it again, impossibly tender, relieved: “Levi.”
“You know me?” Levi can barely speak the words. It’s too good to be true.
Erwin’s gaze goes momentarily pleading—desperate again. “Of course I…” He seals himself off, returning to blankness, glancing around the hallway. It’s a shift Levi’s seen a hundred times. Flickering candles and rustling reports, Erwin leaning both arms on that heavy desk, wearing that delighted, infuriating smile that says Levi’s amused him in a way Levi can’t fathom, only to fade to a careful neutral as subordinates entered the office.
Both arms. Erwin’s got both arms. He’s wearing a tuxedo, too, a sharp, modern cut, his black bowtie a sensuous silk. He’s wildly out of place in this service hallway; other servers pass them by, brows raised.
Erwin notices that they’re being marked at the same moment Levi does. “Come with me,” says Erwin, and pushes into a side door across from the kitchen.
Levi follows. I’m here on a job, he thinks, half hysterically. The murderer could be killing Montblanc right now.
He can’t bring himself to care.
Erwin draws him into a conference room that Levi remembers from the building blueprints he’d studied. The huge windows let in the light from the street below, the Eiffel Tower, too, a soft glow just bright enough to see that the room is empty of people. Levi tags an exit on the other side of the room, plus two vent covers the size of suitcases that lead to ventilation ducts. No cameras. Stacked chairs lean along one wall, and against another wall, rows of folded tables are fanned like a deck of cards, and—
Levi’s notation of the space is instinctual. Necessary. But even more instinctual, more familiar, is the way his eyes come back to Erwin, watching him press the door shut, sealing out the sound of the busy kitchen in favor of sterile, air-conditioned silence.
Erwin turns back to Levi, blue eyes bright, and Levi’s heart lurches.
It’s Erwin. It’s Erwin. Levi wants to touch him. Touch his hand, feel that it’s real. Grab him by the lapels, shove him back against the door, take what he never could in his dreams.
Instead, desperate for affirmation, he repeats, “You know me.”
Erwin’s face breaks into softness again as he moves closer. “How could I forget?”
Levi catches a faint whiff of cologne so damn delicious that he nearly moans, because beneath it is a scent he knows well. Erwin’s shitty regulation soap and shitty regulation laundry detergent. How the fuck—this isn’t Trost.
But it is Erwin. “What the fuck is this,” he rasps. “Erwin—what the fuck is this? The dreams—did you—”
“Yes. As far as we can tell, they’re real. Another life.”
Jesus Christ. “I didn’t think—was that Moblit back there?”
“Yes. But it’s not just Moblit. Hange’s here—”
It nearly comes out as a sob: “Four-eyes is here?”
“And Miche. Others, too. ”
Miche. That fucking giant. Levi never did find out what happened to him. So many people, he never got to say goodbye. So many people he would’ve given anything to see again. “You all…you found each other?”
“It’s taken a long time. But I tried to find you from the start.” Erwin’s voice breaks. “Levi, I’ve been looking for years.”
Of course Erwin couldn’t find him. Nobody knows Levi’s name; by design, there isn’t a search engine in the world that could track him down. Not with his job.
But he can’t tell Erwin that, much less what his job actually is. From humanity’s strongest to humanity’s biggest fucking disappointment. Levi’s good at lying, but he’s never been very good at lying to Erwin. How the hell is he gonna do this?
“So you.” Levi can barely speak. “You’re. You’ve seen everything. Or—you’ve seen your own life, whenever or wherever the hell that was.”
“Yes. All of it.”
Levi pulls in air. “So if Hange’s here—you know what we found in that basement. What we did.”
“Yes.”
“And you…know what I chose.” Why is Levi’s face so hot? He made that choice in another lifetime, and there wasn’t a moment he regretted it. Questioned it, fucking obviously. But regretted it, never. “With the. The serum.”
“I know,” says Erwin. His eyes are devastating.
Levi can barely meet them. “So you know it’s on me,” he says at last. “Everything that happened afterward.” He means the Rumbling, but he also means the fractured Scouts, his own listlessness, his inability to control Eren. “If I’d chosen you—”
“Levi.”
“—then maybe that fucking genocidal maniac wouldn’t have gone so far off the rails, and—”
“Levi,” says Erwin, and it’s not angry or even impatient, it’s just…warm. It so fucking warm and rich and deep that Levi’s whole goddamn body turns to it, tunes to it. The earnest look in Erwin’s eyes is going to destroy Levi and he isn’t sure he gives a shit. “You can’t know that,” says Erwin. “Perhaps it wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
“You can’t know that, either. And—” Something occurs to him with a twinge of disgust. “Christ, tell me that asshole isn’t part of your little crew.”
“He isn’t. But I trusted you with the serum, remember? Whatever choice you made would’ve been the right one.”
“That’s not true,” Levi whispers. “I was selfish. I couldn’t let them use you—”
“What’s done is done.” Erwin is smiling so gently. As if Levi deserves gentleness. “Let it stay that way. Whatever choices we made in that life, we have the chance to do better in this one. Shouldn’t we take it?”
Guilt fills Levi in a breathless rush. Maybe Erwin can. I protect criminals like those well-dressed asshats out there.
But—sudden fear claws into Levi’s heart as he takes in Erwin’s tuxedo again, all its crisp black lines. He looks like he belongs out there, glad-handing and schmoozing his way through the gala. Like in Mitras. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Erwin looks away, and Levi nearly grabs him by that silk bowtie. When has Erwin ever looked away from him? “It’s complicated,” says Erwin. “Tell me what you’re doing here. You can’t be one of those corporate stooges.”
“I’m not. I’m just—working.” I should tell him what I am, thinks Levi. Better to disappoint him now than later. “But c’mon. You can’t be one of them, either.”
“Of course not.” Erwin glances toward the door. ”It’s—I’m working, too.”
“Can’t believe they’d give kitchen staff penguin suits like that.” But even as Levi says it, he remembers his earlier thought: he never saw Erwin on the guest list. Or on the wait staff list. He looked up every last one of those fuckers, matched faces with names. He would’ve known if Erwin, or Erwin under a fake name, was here. Same with Hange, Miche, Moblit—any of them.
He’d have known. Why doesn’t he—
Cold realization crawls up his spine, a slow shiver.
Levi doesn’t know because Erwin didn’t want him to know. Erwin didn’t want anyone to know. The man wanted to slip into the gala and back out without anyone noticing. Quiet-like. Undetectable. Levi says, “You’re the Ghost.”
In the same heartbeat, he thinks, The job’s off.
Erwin’s gaze comes back sharp as steel—but with a gleam in his eye, as though this batshit turn of events is everything he hoped for.
Fucking hell, Levi’s missed him.
“Tell me,” Erwin says, “how you know that name.”
Levi scoffs. “I’m here to kill you.”
There’s that gleam again. “I thought that might be the case.”
Wait. “You—what?”
Erwin’s blue eyes shine. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to kill me.”
Levi thinks of dirt and gravel beneath the knee of his boot, the air thick with the scent of crushed mortar and blood. The faint breeze stirring the summer-green grass between Erwin’s heels. I’m making the choice.
“Actually managed it, that last time.” His voice scrapes.
Erwin’s quiet, sharp intake of breath fills Levi with a kind of heat he doesn’t expect. “You didn’t. Levi, that wasn’t—I asked—” Erwin seems to gather himself. “Is this what you want?” he presses. “To protect those men out there?”
No, it’s not what Levi fucking wants. “It’s what I do. They hire me, I make the kill, then I move on to the next job.”
Erwin steps closer, his eyes lit with some inner fire that Levi wants to follow to the ends of the earth. “But is that what you want?”
His heart’s pounding. “Save the recruitment speech,” Levi manages. “There’s no getting out this time. I’m in too damn deep.”
“Nobody’s in too deep. We can get you out.”
“Come on. You can’t even keep your covert missions a secret.”
Erwin’s smiling again. “Do you know who leaked that information?”
“Fuck’s sake.” Levi scrubs a hand over his face. “Seriously? You could’ve been killed. I could’ve killed you!”
“Perhaps.”
“Why would you even—I know how you guys work. The Syndicate. So why assassination this time? What the hell’s assassinating this guy gonna do that threatening him isn’t?”
“We were never going to assassinate him. It was a ploy to draw you out.”
Levi nearly takes a step back. His employers never get played. “Why?” he says, unable to hide his surprise. “You can’t have known it was me.”
“We didn’t. But you’ve got a reputation for being just.”
Jesus. “I assassinate people, Erwin.”
“No. That’s not all you do. I’ve seen the reports. You don’t involve innocent bystanders. Your kills are fast and clean. You’ve rearranged entire missions to make sure there aren’t any children who could witness what you’ve done. And you can get in anywhere, unseen. I thought we could use someone like you, no matter who you turned out to be.”
Unease twists in Levi’s gut. “For more assassinations.”
“No.” It’s vehement. “For the information you may be willing to share. Whatever the cost.”
Much as Levi would do anything for Erwin, it eases him somewhat to realize that he wouldn’t be Erwin’s hired dog, good only for the commander’s dirty work. He got enough shit for that in his last life.
“I didn’t know it was you,” Erwin insists. “I’ve been searching, but I—I didn’t think you’d…”
“What,” Levi says bitterly. “Kill people for a living?”
Erwin gulps, guilty. “Why do you do it?”
Levi looks away. He’d forgotten that Erwin can do that, make him question things he’d thought were foundational. He’s never needed a reason except that he fell in with the wrong people, discovered a terrible talent, and found it was a great way to keep money coming to his mother’s memorial foundation. Maybe it's dirty money, but it does a damn lot of good in her hometown.
But telling Erwin that feels ridiculous. “It’s a living,” Levi mutters, embarrassed.
Erwin smiles. “I suppose this isn’t the place for that conversation. But I meant what I said: no one’s in too deep. We can get you out. If you want to join us—even if you don’t want to join us, even if you just want out—no one will find you. I swear it.”
Levi’s heart is pounding. He’s considering this. He’s actually considering this. His whole fucking life, all he's ever wanted was to live out those moments in the Survey Corps. Hell, at this point, he'd take the Underground, too. Running numbers with Farlan, Isabel trying to convince them that this month’s rescue—a stray cat, a puppy with a broken leg—was worth the cost. He could have it, or most of it, if only he says yes. But…“You don’t know my employers. What makes you so sure I’ll be safe?”
“We have Hange,” says Erwin. “Your employers don’t.”
“What’s four-eyes have to do with this?”
“They’re in charge of digital intelligence.”
Levi huffs. “You mean they’re a hacker.”
“They’ll erase you. Or your past, anyway.”
Levi can’t imagine all the things Hange could do with a proper laptop. But even knowing the risk—fuck, isn’t it worth it? He’s admired the Syndicate for so long, and now he knows it’s run by his old comrades, the people he missed even back in Paradis, after they were taken.
Isn’t it worth it to try? Even if his employers find him, even if they kill him with a sniper’s bullet or poison or whatever…he’s not exactly enjoying his life. A few months, weeks, even days of reuniting with his friends—with Erwin—would be worth it.
His face feels hot again. “I…”
“Levi,” says Erwin, and Levi’s whole body vibrates with the frequency, a tuning fork struck hard. “Please. Lend me your strength again.”
The spell breaks; he scoffs, mortified. Erwin’s earnestness hasn’t dulled one bit. “I’m out just for that,” he says, making a show of shouldering past Erwin.
But Erwin catches his arm. “Levi.”
Levi pulls his arm free, the heat of Erwin’s huge hand lingering despite its momentary perch. It’s the first time Erwin’s touched him in—since—“Of course I’m in. I’m in, all right?”
Erwin smiles in clear, giddy relief.
Levi might adore him. “Just—what the hell do we do now?”
Boyish delight shines in Erwin’s eyes. “You come with me.”
“We can’t leave together. They’ll see me with you. I didn’t rig any of the cameras here.”
“Let me ping Hange. They’ll take care of it.”
“No.” Levi straightens his jacket. “If my employers find out the cameras got messed with, they’ll know something happened.”
“They won’t notice. Hange’s that good.”
“No way—you’re not doing that. You’re already saving my ass. I already owe you.”
“Levi.” Erwin just keeps saying it, saying Levi’s name like he craves the taste. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Levi means to scoff, but it comes out strangled: “I owe you everything.”
Oh, god, the soft look on Erwin’s face nearly hurts. Levi swallows past the tightness in his throat and adds, “I’d still rather leave separately. Just in case.”
Erwin nods. “Can you be in the lobby in fifteen minutes? Miche will bring the car around. It’s a black Mercedes.”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“What kind of organization would we be if we didn’t have more than one driver?”
Welp. All right. “I’ll meet him down there,” says Levi, heading for the door once more.
Then he turns back. Curious. “When I saw you in the smoke,” he says, and lets it hang there like the afterimage of that winged emblem.
“I saw you, too,” Erwin says, so softly. “It’s the last thing I remember.”
“Shitty memory, then. Having to look at a broken pile of bones.”
“I remember thinking I’d never seen anyone so strong.”
Levi’s face incinerates. He grinds out, “Front entrance. Fifteen minutes.”
He heads for the door without looking back.
***
On the way down to the lobby, Levi calls his fixer.
“Job’s done.” It’s an easy lie. His job requires shit’s taken care of without anyone noticing, so the lack of fuss only works in his favor.
“Great!” says his fixer. “Do we need to schedule a pickup?”
For the corpse, he means. “It’s hidden enough,” says Levi.
“No juicy details?”
“Are we done here?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. We’ll confirm the job’s done tonight and wire you the cash tomorrow.”
Levi shuts off his phone, clears it of prints on the inside of his tux jacket, then tips it into the nearest rubbish bin.
A few vehicles wait under the building’s lit portico, all in varying shades of silver and black, polished to mirror shines, lights reflecting like stars off their tinted windows. Levi shudders. Rich people. Near the back of the line is a sleek black Mercedes. Levi heads for it.
The door opens, and Miche unfolds from the driver’s seat, coming around to the right rear passenger door. He’s suited up, too, his face carefully blank, not even looking at Levi as he opens the door.
Levi’s heart is pounding. Past missions haven’t gotten him this rattled. It’s Miche. Miche is here. The dreams were real.
He plays along and slides into the plush leather back seat. The door shuts, sealing the car into a muffled soundproof box. The whole inside is spotless, dustless. It smells new.
Miche drops back into the driver’s seat and eases the car out from under the portico, a smooth, lurchless ride.
Only when they’re around the block does Levi scoot to the edge of his seat and grip Miche by the shoulder. “Miche, holy shit.”
“Hey, man.” Miche looks into the rear-mirror, reaching up to grip Levi’s hand, a rough facsimile of a handshake. “I didn’t actually believe Erwin until you walked out of that building.” He lets go. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” Levi is reeling. “We didn’t—what happened to you, back then? On Paradis. You fell off the face of the earth.”
“Yeah. Same thing that happened to a lot of the Corps, sounds like.”
Levi frowns. “Didn’t think a run-of-the-mill Titan could’ve taken you out.”
“It wasn’t a run-of-the-mill Titan.” Miche steers the car down the Rue di Rivoli, lit up orange with streetlights, the sky a long, black runway above it. “But you eventually got him back for me. For everybody.”
Levi sits back, fury boiling. “Zeke.”
“Yep.” Miche glances back at him again. “Erwin said you’re joining up.”
When Miche says it like that…something shifts in Levi’s heart. Here we go again. This time, he doesn’t think he minds it so much. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“Good.” Miche’s eyes flicker to his again, one broad hand turning the wheel. “He’s been looking for you for a long time. Can’t believe he finally found you.”
Heat crowds up Levi’s jaw. Levi, I’ve been looking for years. He says, “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Headquarters.”
Levi snorts. “Got some kind of underground bunker?”
“A hotel, actually. Penthouse.”
“Subtle.”
“Erwin thinks hiding in plain sight is best. And anyway, we’re here. I’m gonna let you out and handle valet. Go right in—private elevator to the left. Sixth floor.”
“What’s the room number?”
Miche grins at him in the mirror. “It’s the only room on the floor. Erwin should be there already.”
Nobody in the lobby gives Levi a second glance. He only panics in the elevator, then all the way up to the door of the suite. Is this really—am I really—
Then Hange opens the door, and he forgets his fear.
“Levi!”
He’s got time to take in their colorful band sweatshirt and the fact that Hange has both eyes—he’s grown so used to thinking of them with an eyepatch—and then he’s engulfed in a hug that damn near knocks him back into the hallway.
He’s aware of people behind Hange, crowding closer, loud, ridiculously loud, don’t these people know about stealth? Or are they really that safe?
Safe or not, he’s here. He’s finally here.
“Can’t believe it,” Hange is saying into his ear, rocking back and forth with him, “Erwin said, but I didn’t think—we’ve been looking for so long, I never thought I’d see you again—”
His throat is tight again, his eyes filling. He hangs onto Hange’s sweatshirt and buries his face in their shoulder. “Holy fuck,” he says there, and how the hell does Hange still smell the same, too, slightly stale but more like the lavender soap Levi used to buy them, a not-so-subtle hint. “Hange.”
Hange ruffles his hair. “Don’t get all emo on me now, there’s still a dozen more people you gotta do this with.”
They’re right, too. The moment Hange pulls him into the room, Moblit is shaking his hand, already changed out of his server’s uniform. Petra and Oluo crowd around him, startling him. He does weep, then, when he sees the joy in their own streaming eyes and realizes, like a fist unclenching from around his heart, that they don’t blame him for what happened to them. He kisses Petra’s forehead, lets Oluo cling to him. “Eld and Gunther are back in New York,” Oluo tells him as he sleeves at his eyes. “So’s Nanaba. Fuck me, wait ’til they hear about this!”
Erwin already mentioned that Eren wasn’t part of the crew, but it surprises Levi to find Jean wading toward him, towering-tall exactly the way Levi remembers. Unlike how Levi remembers, Jean’s hair is pulled back in an unruly bun, his short beard more intentional. “Shit,” Jean says, eyes wide, “captain!” He goes for a handshake. Levi uses the grip to pull him into a hug.
“Sasha’s here,” Jean tells him, clearly charmed that Levi is glad enough to see him for an embrace. “She’s keeping watch up on the roof.”
Sasha. He last saw her blank-eyed and bled out, like so many others. “And everyone else?” asks Levi. His throat is still tight; he doesn’t trust himself with longer sentences.
“Connie’s in New York. The rest of the 104th—we’re keeping tabs, but haven’t engaged. Still can’t find a few of them.”
That’s probably for the best. “And—Zeke?”
“We’re keeping tabs on him, too,” says Erwin, joining them, and Levi nearly cries in relief all over again. Glad as he is to see everyone, the crowd is overwhelming; he’s felt untethered, bobbing on the current of a wild sea as he’s passed among his old friends. Seeing Erwin steadies him, calms his heart. Fuck, he thinks, I’m in so fucking deep.
He wonders how deep he can get. He thinks he’d like to find out.
“It wouldn’t be be wise to involve the Jaegers,” Erwin continues. “Whether or not they’ve changed since we last met, they’re responsible for too much of…" He grimaces. "Everything.”
“No shit,” grumbles Levi, and accepts the glass Hange pushes into his hand—whiskey. He’s just now getting a look around the suite. Elaborate, rococo-style furniture; a tech setup blooming with half a dozen monitors that would look more at home in some kind of pro-gamer tournament; open suitcases lined with empty foam inserts that must have fit all manner of equipment. Doors around the space seem to lead to bedrooms; this crew has to sleep somewhere.
Levi ditches his tuxedo jacket and tie, warm in the press. He’ll need a new wardrobe. New everything.
Considering Erwin’s put them all up in this penthouse, he doesn’t think it’ll be a problem.
As he circles the crowd, catching up with them all, he can’t help but track Erwin. The way Erwin hovers, or leaves and returns, it’s clear Erwin is tracking him, too. It makes Levi feel warm all over. Of course he and Erwin were always the closest, but it’s clear that they still are. Even with entirely different lives between them, they’re still drawn together.
He almost wishes he could be alone with Erwin, to really and truly catch up beyond the initial shock. We’ll have time, he tells himself, hiding a smile in his whiskey. We’ve waited this long.
But Erwin must feel the same, because before long, he catches Levi’s eye, nods him along toward one of the doors beyond the main space.
Levi sets his empty glass aside and follows, clocking the handful of glances that follow them.
He knows how this looks. Hell, he's seen those looks before. He never gave it a second thought on Paradis, since there was nothing to gossip about, but here…here, it feels different.
It feels like maybe their suspicions could finally be right.
Erwin invites him into the room beyond and closes the door behind him, and Levi sees that they’re in a bedroom, or rather an actual hotel room, instead of just the living space with is sofas and kitchenette. Here, a lamp is lit on a sideboard, illuminating the low coffee table, the plush sofa, the towering bed behind it all. Everything is a rococo explosion in here, too, all shades of cream and gold, with the occasional rich blue—the kind of decor that makes Levi feel a certain empathy for the Third Estate marching on Versailles. He sees an open suitcase, a laptop on a nearby desk. The window is a postcard-perfect frame of the Eiffel Tower, lit up gold in the distance, the spotlight at the top a slow rotation. Lovely, if a bit ridiculous.
Dangerous, too.
He goes to the window and pulls the heavy blue curtain across it.
“Don’t like the view?” asks Erwin, genuine disappointment in his voice. He drops his tux jacket on the bed and loosens his bowtie.
“Don’t want to get sniped,” says Levi. “Do you really just—run the organization you run, and leave the windows open with the lights on inside?”
“When the scenery is that beautiful? Yes.” Erwin heads for the sideboard and an ornate tray with a faceted decanter, and pours them both drinks. “I told you, Hange covers our tracks. No one knows we’re here.”
“They might know I’m here. I’m still a wild card.”
“Perhaps. I’m not concerned about it, especially since I assume you’ve already ditched your phone.” When Levi nods, Erwin glances toward the curtained windows once more, wistful. “But I don’t mind making you more comfortable.” He comes closer, offers Levi a heavy, faceted crystal glass that matches the decanter, a few fingers of whiskey catching the light. He looks so damn delighted. “Come sit?”
“Thanks.” Levi takes the glass and follows him to the sofa.
Erwin settles into a corner of the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his arm draped along its arched back. His other hand balances his drink on his knee. “I thought you could use a moment away from the crowd, but—would you rather be alone?”
“No. Are you shitting me?” Levi sits on the other end of the sofa, a long arm’s length away from Erwin. “Been alone for years. Had about enough.”
“You’re not leaving anyone behind?”
Levi’s grateful he hasn’t yet raised the glass to his lips, because he might have spluttered on it. Is he asking me if I’m single? “No,” he says. “It’s just me. Mom died years ago, and everybody else is…” He doesn’t have many friends. He’s not sure any of them would miss him. “It’s just me.”
Erwin drinks. “It sounds lonely.”
It could be flirting, but for the sincerity.
“S’all right,” says Levi, and finally drinks, too. “So what do you want to know?”
Erwin’s nose wrinkles. “About what?”
“You said you want me for my information, right. So. Ask.”
Erwin’s brows tilt, pleading. “That’s not the only reason.”
“Then what.” He realizes he’s been waiting all night for the other shoe to drop. This is too good to be true; Erwin can’t just want him for his plucky attitude and his mnemonic devices. “What is it.”
“You’re part of us. Whatever those dreams—memories—actually are, they’re all marked by the fact that none of us got enough time together. And that we left so much work unfinished. Or saw it undone completely. Your information will help, of course, but I’d want you here even if you had none. I want you with us no matter what.”
Levi’s mouth is dry. He whispers, “Oh.”
“I’ve missed you, if you can believe it.”
“You said you’ve been looking for years.” Levi’s voice hits a snag.
“I see now why I couldn’t find you.” Erwin’s own voice is so soft. “I suspect you’ve learned how to cover your tracks. As did most of us.”
Yeah. It was imperative. Levi’s had a dozen new names and identities, burned more passports than could fill a shoebox. “When did you figure it out? That the dreams were real, I mean?”
“I grew up with Miche,” says Erwin. “I was lucky.”
Lucky is a hell of a word, considering Erwin and Miche and the whole Syndicate now live their lives in hiding.
But then again. Pot, fuckin’ kettle. “So you’ve always known.”
“Almost. The dreams started when I was in high school, but even before that, I remember…flashes. I knew who I was. You may not be surprised to know that from a young age, I wanted to change things. To go out and do it myself, rather than wait for others to do it for me.”
No damn wonder Levi’s already feeling the pull toward him. Does the Ackerman bond work the same in this world? Zeke explained it to Levi once, made him damn near queasy with the fear that what he’d felt for Erwin was nothing more than brain chemicals gone wrong. Then again, every conversation with Zeke made him queasy, so that was just par for the fucking course.
“So you really did see it,” says Levi. “What was in the basement.”
“And everything else, after. You said you saw me in the smoke, so—we were able to see much of what came before that. The worst part was seeing the way people like Zeke were scheming without being able to do a thing about it.”
“The wine,” Levi says darkly.
“What you went through…” Erwin shakes his head. “It was devastating. I’m so sorry I couldn’t warn you.”
“Nice thought,” says Levi. “Little creepy that you could see everything.”
A smile touches Erwin’s lips. “Not everything.”
“What.” Levi can’t help but tease, desperate to change the subject. “Weren’t watching me take a shit? Beat off?” But then he remembers with a sudden thrill of horror that a few times in those years between one war and another, during some of those quiet moments in the dark of his own quarters, he’d hissed Erwin’s name through his clenched teeth while he arched taut and soaked his own hand.
But Erwin actually snorts. “I’m afraid not.”
He can’t tell if that’s a disappointment or not.
Unless Erwin is bluffing to save Levi’s dignity.
His smile fades. “Earlier tonight. You said you killed me. Levi, do you really think—”
Guilt grinds his teeth together. “I told you to go die for us.”
“Because I asked you to.” Erwin sits forward, sets his drink aside. “I wasn’t strong enough to decide for myself. You helped me choose the right thing, but the final decision was mine. My death wasn’t on you.”
Levi isn’t sure he can believe that, but it still helps to hear. He mutters into his drink, “Should’ve just broken your damn legs when I had the chance.”
“Then perhaps you’re the one who would’ve been lost to me.”
Something in that devastated tone twists Levi’s heart. The look on Erwin’s face…
Maybe it’s the whiskey. Maybe it’s just that he’s had a lifetime to regret not speaking the words he's wanted to. But Levi finds himself speaking before he can change his mind, half desperate for confirmation of what he’s realizing he’s always known. “You loved me.”
"Yes." Erwin doesn’t even flinch. “I wanted to tell you.” He’s so quiet. “So many times, I imagined saying it. But I…” He smooths his hand down his face, a brief, tired press. He isn’t embarrassed, Levi realizes, somewhere in the haze. He’s full of regret. Drowning in it. “I never could have put you before the Corps.”
It cracks out of Levi: “D’you think I would’ve asked you to?”
Blue eyes flicker over, soft with new consideration. “I suppose not. But I—Levi, you can’t know how much I wanted from you. I was afraid that if we started something, it would never stop.”
Levi’s heart is pounding again. Stifling. “How d’you—what wouldn’t stop?”
“I’d want more,” Erwin whispers. “And then I’d want out. Of the war, I mean. I’d want to savor every moment with you, away from the places where we had to hide how we felt.”
Levi’s in freefall. Any moment he’s going to blink himself awake in his shitty gray apartment. Or worse, in Marley, with his leg in a brace and half his vision in shadow. “You never would’ve left all that work unfinished. Your father’s work—you couldn’t have.”
“I would’ve considered it. I had enough cracks in my resolve already. One more could have torn me apart. But…now, it’s—”
“Now you’re still leading some big fucking organization bent on upending everything.”
“I was foolish about a great many things in that life. I told you I want to do better in this one.”
“Fuck.” It’s not just me. It’s never been just me. Levi says it again, bewildered: “Fuck.” He sets his glass on the marble coffee table with a clack. “You mean you still—”
“Yes.” Erwin searches his eyes. “Did you ever feel the same? Even for a moment?”
Levi nearly laughs. Doesn’t Erwin know?
Hope gilds those blue, blue eyes. “Tell me.”
“Yeah,” says Levi. “Yeah, I fucking felt the same, Erwin. Then and now. Both. All of it.”
Erwin’s whole chest caves. “Levi.”
And Levi—he breathes a noise like a sob, a completely involuntary thing that sounds pathetic even to his own ears. His hands knot into Erwin’s shirtfront before he can stop himself. Warm, smooth, expensive. His eyes are locked on Erwin’s mouth, the soft curve of his lower lip. He wants to bite it. He stays there, one knee jammed against Erwin’s thigh, his heart jackhammering.
But so is Erwin’s. Levi can feel it beneath his knuckles, the way it pounds against the cage of Erwin’s ribs. They’re breathing together, shaky gusts so close that Levi can feel the heat of it across his own lips. “Erwin,” he whispers. He has felt hollow his whole life, but that word, this close, fills that vast, gaping emptiness with something that sends sparks skittering across his nerves.
Erwin touches his cheek, and Levi nearly whimpers. He wanted this—he has wanted this, wanted Erwin so much—and he has it. Levi has him.
Maybe this time, I can keep him.
Erwin’s thumb strokes across Levi’s cheek. Sinks into his hair. Erwin whispers, “It feels like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”
Levi huffs. “Just the one?”
When Erwin’s mouth brushes his, Levi can tell he’s smiling.
His lips are soft. So warm. A gentle cling, apparently still thinking that Levi deserves gentleness. He doesn’t. He can’t—
With a snarl, Levi draws back.
Erwin, bewildered, says, “Did I not—”
“Shut up.” He climbs into Erwin’s lap, shoving Erwin back into the corner of the sofa, and Erwin just lets him, half sprawls into the cushions as Levi straddles him, the smooth material of their trousers sliding together. Erwin’s thighs are solid, all heat, and Levi is up over him, settling his ass back down onto Erwin’s thighs as Erwin leans up, and their mouths come together once more.
This time there’s nothing soft about it. Erwin’s mouth opens, opening Levi’s as he goes, and as soon as Levi licks forward, Erwin is there to meet him. Heat drips through him, stealing the air from his lungs. He gasps it between kisses, and again when Erwin’s big hands settle on Levi’s waist.
Fuck, they’re so heavy, dragging Levi closer by their weight alone. Levi loves them. He’s had them for three seconds and now he can’t live without them. His own hands—he frees one from Erwin’s shirt, slips his fingers into the smooth undercut at Erwin’s nape and up into that longer hair, and Erwin bites off a moan, hips rolling up—
“Jesus fuck,” Levi gasps, the hard line of his cock suddenly pressed right up against the one at the front of Erwin’s trousers. His whole body shudders. “Fuck, Erwin, that’s—ah.”
Erwin’s mouth seals against the column of Levi’s throat with a hot sweep of his tongue, moaning there, and Levi moans back as heat crashes through him, makes his own hips surge. Erwin’s hands slide around Levi’s thighs—huge, fuck, his hands are huge, he could throw Levi around and Levi might actually let him—they grip and tighten, inching toward Levi’s ass. “Let me,” Erwin slurs against Levi’s neck, and Levi is already breathing, “Yes, yes.”
Erwin’s hands slide further up, hot and heavy, folding Levi’s ass into his grip. He pulls Levi forward, and Levi’s knees open wider to accommodate the width of Erwin’s hips so that Erwin can rub up into Levi, deliberate and slow and hard.
The noise that falls out of Levi’s mouth would be goddamn embarrassing if Erwin didn’t make almost exactly the same sound. It occurs to Levi he might come if they keep rutting into each other like this; he’s that damn hot for it. “Fuck,” Levi gasps against his mouth, “Erwin, you got no idea what the fuck you’re doing to me.”
“And you to me.” Erwin surfaces, panting against Levi’s lips, his eyes flickering over Levi’s face. His hands flex against Levi’s ass. “I’ve been hoping for this—dreaming of it—for so long. In Paradis. Before we even knew it had a name.”
Fuck. So many nights, they could’ve had this. They could’ve—
“Tell me,” Levi tries not to beg. “Tell me what you wanted.”
Erwin gulps. “I used to. To dream of taking you into my arms.”
Levi huffs, embarrassed. Erwin’s always so fucking earnest, even now, but Levi might love it. “That the best you can do? Don’t tell me you’re a prude.”
Fire flashes in Erwin’s eyes. One arm bands around Levi’s lower back; he has time for a “What the fuck,” and then he’s flat on his back on the sofa (shit, turns out he really would let Erwin throw him around), Erwin shoving in between his thighs as he lowers himself over Levi and rides their cocks together through their trousers. “I wanted to ruin you,” he says into the curve of Levi’s neck, biting there, soothing with his tongue. “I wanted you to ruin me.”
Levi’s hips rut up without his permission, his whole body rising to Erwin’s mouth on him. “Fuck, Erwin—”
“Wanted you babbling and incoherent,” Erwin murmurs, and bites again, hard, and Levi whimpers, reeling. “In pieces, because of my hands on you. I wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you until you screamed so loudly, you brought everyone running.”
“Erwin.” Levi scrabbles at the fabric on either side of Erwin’s waist, tugging. He can’t stop saying Erwin’s name. The taste of it is too damn good. “Erwin. Get your dick out.”
Erwin shifts onto one hand, belt buckle clanking in the other. “Even on missions—those nights—”
Levi thinks of sunset light, crumbling houses, the evening quiet. Smiles across the fire. “Seriously?”
“Every one,” breathes Erwin. “I’d think of you shoving me into the shadows of the ruins and taking whatever you wanted.”
You can have it now. You can have whatever you want. Levi shifts, knuckles knocking into Erwin’s as he fights his own belt. “Should’ve done it,” Levi says. “Should’ve fucking done it.”
“I suppose late is better than never.” Erwin’s balanced up on one hand, his dark gaze searching Levi’s face so tenderly that Levi scorches, burns, disintegrates into ash beneath it. No one—no one has ever looked at him like this. Erwin’s seen the most horrible parts of him, the bruised rot at the center of this life and the last, and still, Erwin looks at him like this. God, Levi doesn’t deserve this, but he wants to. He wants to.
He lets go of his open belt and tugs Erwin down for another kiss.
“Let me,” Erwin breathes against him, fingertips gentling over the swell beneath Levi’s trouser zipper, and Levi arches, breathes, “Yes.”
Erwin’s hand is so fucking, fucking warm when it finally closes around him that Levi bites off a curse and bucks up into it. He whimpers when suddenly the smooth-velvet of Erwin’s cock rides against his own.
“Fuck,” Levi says, bucking into it again, breathless almost to laughter, “fuck you, I knew you were this fucking huge, you bastard. Gonna take ten goddamn years to open me up for that.”
“It might,” Erwin hedges. “But that’s not what I was hoping for.”
Levi blinks at him, uncomprehending.
Then—
“Oh, shit,” he breathes.
“We don’t—I should have made it clear, I don’t expect—whatever you’d like tonight, that’s—”
“You want me to fuck you,” Levi clarifies. He’s thought about it, of course, but he didn’t expect—the people he’s been with always made assumptions about him, especially if they were as big as Erwin. In every way. “You want me to fill you up.”
“Please,” Erwin whispers. His cheeks are red, his lower lip full. “Levi, please.”
Levi can’t believe him. He can’t fucking believe this. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”
Erwin’s smile lights up Levi’s heart. I’m not letting him out of my sight as long as I live, thinks Levi. Goddamn moron. “But I don’t have condoms,” he manages.
“I’ve been tested since my last time,” says Erwin. “Have you?”
“I’m—yeah. I’m clear.”
“Then we’re the same.”
Levi gets up to his elbows. “Then let’s—there’s a giant bed right there. If we do this on the sofa it’s gonna kill my back.”
“Very well.”
Fuck, listen to him. Very well. “And if you.” Levi clears his throat. “If you turn off the lights, we could, um. Open the curtains, if you're that attached to the view.”
Bright-eyed, Erwin starts to draw back off Levi’s thighs. “All right. In just a moment.”
Then he takes Levi in his hand and leans down over him.
“Oh, shit,” says Levi, and bucks in half when the soft, wet heat of Erwin’s mouth swallows him from head to hilt. “Erwin,” he breathes, half-bowed over Erwin’s shoulders, fingers scrabbling into Erwin’s hair as his heart beats like a trapped bird, “fucking—fuck what the fuck—”
Erwin’s tongue sweeps up, swirls, slides back down, his deep moan vibrating Levi down to his balls, and he shudders, trying to keep his hips from thrusting up. He hasn’t—fuck, it’s been a long time. A long goddamn time. And never with anybody he wanted this fucking badly. “Mother of fuck,” he breathes, nearly laughing again, “Erwin, you—fuck.”
Erwin just moans again, until Levi pulls him up by the shirtcollar, Erwin’s mouth glistening-wet. “Gonna finish if you keep that up,” Levi pants.
“And?”
Levi means to make some kind of quip about how he can’t fuck Erwin if his dick is soft, but staring at all that sincere blue, the truth finds his lips instead. “Rather come inside you,” he croaks, and tries not to die of embarrassment.
But Erwin looks like Levi’s just handed him winning lottery numbers. “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me say it again. You even got any lube in this place?”
“Yes.” Now Erwin’s going pink.
“Perv,” says Levi, delighted. “Show me.”
When they stand, Erwin douses the lights and starts rooting around in his suitcase. Levi tears his eyes from the obvious bulge tenting Erwin’s pants and goes to the window, opening the curtains. It’s terrifying, but it’s—he trusts Erwin. He’s got to trust this, too. He takes in the gold-blue glow of Paris at night, lets it warm him.
Then he turns back to Erwin.
The moment they collide, Erwin walks Levi back toward the bed, divesting Levi of his shoulder holster, then his shirt, dragging it down his arms. Levi decides that they’d be best on equal ground here, and so Erwin’s shirt follows.
He’s hot as hell. Levi didn’t—they’ve seen each other before; military showers aren’t the most private places. But he’d always tried so fucking hard not to look, terrified of what his own body might betray if he saw Erwin’s. He already had Erwin’s elegant, expressive hands, the width of his shoulders, to think about when he jerked off late at night. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire.
But now—
Fuck. Erwin’s chest. It’s broad as the rest of him, his pecs a steep, sloping curve leading to nipples so fucking perky that Levi’s mouth waters. Light swirls of gold hair darken the further down he looks, the faintest shadows of muscle dividing Erwin’s abdominals. The lines of his hips run deep. He’s beautiful. Levi stares at him, warm fabric bunched in his fists, looking his fill. “Jesus,” he says. “Erwin.”
Erwin’s big hand settles on Levi’s neck and trails down, fingertips across Levi’s bare skin, lingering on the thin slashes of scars, the pucker of an ancient bullet wound, and Levi shivers. “Do you know,” Erwin whispers, “how beautiful you are?”
Levi’s face heats again; he lets go of Erwin’s shirt, starts toeing off his shoes. “Shut up.”
Erwin is studying him in a way that Levi suddenly remembers in a flash of fire. He’s thinking. “Do you not believe me?” asks Erwin.
Levi says, “Get on the bed.”
Erwin kisses him. Murmurs, “Perhaps I can convince you.”
A choked noise works out of Levi’s throat. “You can try.” He bites at Erwin’s lower lip and shoves Erwin’s trousers down his hips.
And is instantly relieved that Erwin’s the one who wants fucked tonight. He already felt big against Levi, but seeing it—damn, Levi doesn’t have time for this; heat is clawing through him, desperate, and he needs. He manages, “Are you shitting me?”
Erwin is pink again. “You don’t need to flatter me.”
“And you don’t need to be packing a goddamn baseball bat in those tuxedo pants.” But hell, Erwin’s pretty. He’s so fucking pretty, cut and smooth and so, so hard. Levi can practically feel the weight on his tongue, taste the salt of his precome, already shining at the tip. He gulps, says again, “Get on the bed, Erwin.”
Erwin gets on the bed, dead center, backing himself into the pillows. Levi drops his own trousers, boxer-briefs too, and crawls up over him, straddles Erwin’s hips.
Erwin immediately takes them both in hand again, and the press of hot skin to hot skin knocks the wind clean out of Levi; his hands land on Erwin’s chest. “Jesus fuck,” he gasps, rutting up into that pressure. If this is just what Erwin’s hand feels like, fucking Erwin might actually kill him. He seizes Erwin’s hand, pulls it away—then grabs Erwin’s other hand, too, pins both over his head, sinking them into the pillow.
The look Erwin gives him scorches him again, staring up at Levi between the thick, soft slopes of his biceps. It’s heavy with hunger, dark with want. “I wish you could see yourself,” he whispers.
Levi shuts him up with a kiss, then sits back, draping himself between Erwin’s spread thighs. Erwin hands him the packet of lube he’s found. Levi’s fingers shake as he tears it open.
Erwin makes such a beautifully broken noise when Levi brushes fingertips across his entrance that Levi nearly moans, too. Already, Erwin is leaking onto his own belly, and Levi’s done nothing but stroke across the rim, an easy slide thanks to the lube. “Maybe it’s a good thing we never did this,” says Levi. “You would’ve brought all of HQ down on us after, like, three seconds.”
“Perhaps you’re—hnngh—right.” Erwin bucks into the touch, muscles tight and trembling.
Levi watches. “Been a minute?”
“You might say that.”
Disbelief floors him. Erwin said he's been tested since last time, but that tone—“You have done this, right?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, just—I’m not sure you know how badly I want it.”
“Getting the idea.” Levi smooths his other hand up Erwin’s thigh, drunk on this, on Erwin already coming apart. “Just relax, will you. We got all night.”
“I know.” Erwin pulls in a breath, lets it out slow, opens a little beneath Levi’s fingertips.
“There we go.” Levi slides a single finger into tight, clutching heat up to his first knuckle, and Erwin tips his head back and moans. “Fuck, Erwin.”
“Please.” Erwin’s hips are rolling, and Levi has no choice but to follow. “More, I—give me more, I can take—oh.”
Levi’s slipped in deeper. “God, you’re easy. Couple of fingers and you’re already gone.”
“I knew you’d be good at this.” Erwin’s cock twitches hard. “I knew—oh, and you’re—fuck!”
Levi bends, opens his lips around the head of Erwin’s cock, licks away the taste of salt and then descends, his tongue a slow circle around the crown. Erwin bars his own arm across his own mouth, stifling himself as he cries out.
Jesus, it’s hot. Levi’s trying not to grind himself into the solid length of Erwin’s thigh, heavy between his knees. Is this seriously his life? Two hours ago, he was on a job. Now he’s one—two, and Erwin actually whimpers—fingers deep inside the man he’s loved for most of this life and much of the old one.
He’s on three fingers when Erwin’s huge hands sink into his hair, pull him up. “Please,” Erwin pants, “I’m ready for you.”
Heat rolls through Levi’s lower belly; his own cock is so hard now that it’s wet, too, rubbed without thinking into the friction Erwin’s thigh. “Yeah,” he says, withdrawing his fingers, staring at Erwin’s entire beautiful body, “fine. How do you—”
Eyes shining, Erwin bands an arm around the small of Levi’s back, and then suddenly Levi is staring at the ceiling as Erwin crawls overtop him, kisses him.
“What the fuck,” he says into the kiss, still bewildered that apparently he just lets Erwin throw him around. Erwin's still close, nuzzling deeper into Levi’s mouth, pouring himself into the kiss. His big hand is hot as a brand, still in the small of Levi’s back, fingertips stretched as if eager to feel all of Levi.
Erwin pulls back, staring down at Levi like he’s a gift, like Levi is the only thing he ever wanted in this lifetime and a hundred more. “Levi,” he says, full of a quiet joy that Levi wants to crawl inside and live in, “is this all right?”
“I—you want to be on top?”
“Yes.” Erwin’s pink across his cheeks. “If you don’t mind.”
Levi’s cock twitches, very much not minding. “Yeah, whatever, just…” All at once Levi’s throat feels tight, his words rasping. Erwin is so beautiful, Levi can barely look at him.
Erwin's here. He’s here and he wants Levi, and for some reason he doesn’t give a damn that Levi’s a huge fucking disappointment. For some reason he’s ready to give Levi another chance, just like he always did before. Before, when he wanted Levi in the silence of his own heart, and never said anything.
“Just what?” Erwin brushes hair back from Levi’s forehead.
Levi runs his hands down Erwin’s sides. “Just don’t make me wait any longer.”
Erwin smiles and leans in for another kiss. Then he kisses Levi’s cheek, his temple, the crook of his neck. Levi is drowning in cool sheets and soft, stubble-scratch kisses, and he lets himself be submerged.
Erwin shifts up to his knees, straddling Levi’s hips.
Levi traces up Erwin’s thighs, adoring the blond hairs beneath his palms. Erwin is still so hard, still slick from Levi’s mouth on him and now a bead of precome, sliding down his length. “Come on,” Levi says, “dammit, Erwin—“
“Are you begging?” Erwin leans over him, bracing one hand to the right of Levi’s head, the other reaching back, engulfing Levi’s dick, guiding it. “Because I can’t say I mind.”
Levi makes a strangled noise, half at the notion, half because he’s just brushed up against Erwin, slick-hot and clutching and he isn’t even inside yet. “Erwin.”
Erwin’s hair is hanging down one side of his temple, a messy swoop of it, lips parted, blue eyes searing as he searches Levi’s. He brushes their lips together, whispers, “Levi,” and sinks his hips back.
Silken, tight heat closes around Levi from crown to base, and Erwin gasps into his mouth, moans his name, sits on Levi’s hips and shudders.
Levi is in tatters. “Er—Erwin—”
“Fuck,” Erwin pants, both arms now sliding beneath Levi’s neck and shoulders to gather him close; he buries his face in the curve of Levi’s neck, bent ridiculously to accomplish it. “Oh, Levi.”
Levi’s arms are around Erwin’s neck, too, one hand up in his hair, a tight grip on those golden strands. His hips are bucking in spasmodic half-thrusts, desperate for Erwin to move and yet needing him to stay right there. He’s shaking, he realizes somewhere. His whole body, shaking from the effort of his grip and the effort of holding himself back. He latches his hands onto the blades of Erwin’s hips and says into his ear, “Move.”
He can feel the flex in Erwin’s thighs just before Erwin lifts himself, then plunges back down. Levi nearly shouts, a breathless hah of surprise, the sheer delight of it, how goddamn delicious it is. It’s been a long time, and this is Erwin.
It’s Erwin. Fuck, it’s Erwin.
“Erwin,” he says, pulling Erwin back up to his mouth so he can kiss and lick his way in, so he can see those intense eyes. He can’t stop touching him, tracing down the curves of Erwin's freckled shoulders, the corded, straining muscles in his arms as Erwin moves, fucking himself onto Levi. Erwin is trembling too, his brows tilted like this hurts, like this is destroying him just as much as it is Levi. “Wanted this,” Levi moans, “Erwin, I—I wanted you so bad, I—”
“Tell me.” It’s an echo of earlier. “Tell me the things you’ve fantasized about.”
Levi huffs, breathless. “Didn’t care. Would’ve let you do it anywhere. Alley on the way home from that bar—”
“Oh, god.”
“Wanted you to—ah—lift me up—not even clothes off, just—fast and sloppy.” He can’t stop the words, a torrent spilling from his lips. “Wanted to blow you under your desk.”
“Jesus Christ.” Erwin drops back onto Levi’s hips particularly hard. “You would’ve had anyone walk in on us—”
“No, just—if they did, I’d be stuck down there, hidden, with your dick down my throat.” It’s filthy; Levi’s never admitted this in his life, barely to himself. “Didn’t care. Wherever. Wanted you to take everything, long as you held me after.” He could die with embarrassment. With arousal, the way Erwin is moaning. He’s gotta turn the tables. “How often did you jerk off to thoughts like that, huh? Thinking of fucking me however you wanted?”
Erwin moans again, and it sounds broken open, desperate. Levi can’t blame him; he shifts his grip, moving one hand up to those ridiculous pecs, the other to wrap around Erwin’s cock.
“Like this?” Levi asks, a firm stroke, and Erwin’s hands clench in the sheets, head hanging to cry out. “Or maybe…” He drifts his thumb over a nipple, and Erwin damn near arches. “Oh,” Levi says, surprised as much as delighted, going back and doing it again, brushing his thumb over the perked, pink bud, “holy shit, Erwin.”
Erwin shivers, clenching around Levi, more precome slicking Levi’s hand. “Please,” Erwin whispers.
Levi takes Erwin’s nipple between thumb and forefinger and then twists, rubs, soothes, and Erwin keens. He looks overwhelmed, red across his face almost out to his ears, looking down at Levi in hazy bliss. He’s stopped moving, and Levi loves that, loves that he’s managed to overwhelm Erwin fucking Smith, but he still needs with a delicious ache that’s consuming him, making it impossible to just lay here and take this.
So he bands his own arm around Erwin’s lower back, braces his heels. “Lift off me for a sec,” he says, and when Erwin whimpers, Levi leans up and kisses him, astonished at his own tenderness. “Just for a sec,” he repeats, and Erwin’s hips shift up, freeing Levi with a wet smack against his belly.
Then he flips them both.
Erwin hits his back on the mattress, blinking up at him with shocked clarity. “Levi,” he says again, hushed.
Levi’s face burns. “Told you you’re easy.” He shoulders in between Erwin’s knees, the heavy spread of his thighs, and sinks back inside.
Erwin arches beneath him, so breathtakingly beautiful that Levi’s got to take a moment, hands braced on Erwin’s chest, to get his bearings in the tight, slick heat.
They could’ve had this.
They could’ve spent the little time they had in each other’s bed. Nobody would’ve had to give up anything; this would have bolstered them, filled their hearts with something other than brokenness so that when they gave them, they actually gave something of value.
Or it would’ve ruined them. Levi’s not sure. His squad used to complain about should’ves in their debriefs, and he always told them it was useless for anything except future planning.
Guess that’s why Erwin’s determined not to make the same mistakes this time.
Levi’s eyes burn; he threads his fingers through Erwin’s and pins them to the mattress. He’s got to stretch over Erwin to do it, but he doesn’t care. It gives him the perfect amount of leverage, and Erwin’s thumbs trace along Levi’s, such a tender little gesture that Levi nearly gasps with it.
Then he rolls his hips again. In and in, and Erwin breathes, “Yes, fuck, just like that.”
Levi chases that bliss, lets himself fall into it, mindless to everything except that ridiculous ass clenching around him the look on Erwin’s face. He’s seen that look before, its unbearable softness. He thinks he knows now what it means. It terrifies and thrills him in equal measure. He grips Erwin’s hands tighter, and Erwin whispers, “Levi, I’m—oh god, please—tell me you’re close, I can’t—”
Heat bursts through him. “Yeah, Erwin, I’m close, I’m so close—you wanna come for me? Let me see?”
Erwin breathes a noise like a sob. “Yes. Yes, yes—”
Levi releases one hand just to wrap it around Erwin, and that’s it; Erwin cries out and spills all over Levi’s knuckles, trembling so hard Levi can feel it in his own dick—more, when Erwin clenches around him. “Levi,” Erwin breathes, eyes open, his spare hand palming the side of Levi’s neck, now his cheek, his thumb a tender arc across it despite his own shivers.
And Levi comes. He was right there, arousal pooling tight in his lower belly, but Erwin’s voice, that ridiculous little touch—Levi turns his face to Erwin’s palm and rides it out, mindless thrust after mindless thrust, no finesse, practically feral, stars bursting behind his closed eyelids as he gasps, “Fuck, Erwin, fuck.”
Erwin pulls him down and leans up for a kiss, immediately deep, searing, flashing more heat through Levi’s whole body as he chases the bliss of it. He can’t remember the last time he came so fucking hard. He’s still shaking, too, gasping as his hips slow. His other hand is still clenched together with Erwin’s, fingers woven.
Levi pulls out, ready to get up—but Erwin pulls him down, settling him against his chest. “Hey, what the fuck,” Levi says, delighted, completely grossed out, “you’re filthy.”
“So are you. We can shower in a moment.” Erwin’s arms band across Levi’s back, one hand smoothing up into his hair, cradling Levi like he’s something special.
Despite the stickiness between them, Levi relaxes into it. Erwin feels too good not to. Fuck, he’s huge. His pecs are like goddamn pillows. Levi mutters, “Think they heard us out there?”
“I think I don’t give a damn.”
Levi snorts. “Pretty sure they all knew anyway.”
“Perhaps. There were enough rumors back in the Corps. About time we proved them true.”
Christ, Levi adores this man. He props himself up on an elbow for a kiss, and Erwin welcomes him. It’s slow and lush, satiated and warm. Levi could drown in it.
They use the en suite connected to Erwin’s room, a squeaky-clean, white-marble monstrosity with bold brass fixtures. The shower is an open cubicle framed in glass, and Levi’s only been under the spray a moment when Erwin joins him. “Is this all right?” Erwin asks, quiet in the hiss of the spray.
In answer, Levi pulls him down for another kiss. He lets Erwin soap him up, big broad hands a heavy, welcome drag across his weary muscles. “Beautiful,” Erwin murmurs into his ear, and Levi goes even hotter.
At last, toweled off, even teeth brushed thanks to a fresh set in hotel-branded packaging, Erwin tugs Levi back into the bedroom. Into the bed. Then into his arms, with Levi’s back against Erwin’s chest. A small part of Levi wants to rail against it, uneasy at the idea of anyone lurking behind him, where they could surprise him.
But it’s Erwin. He can trust Erwin. He’s always been able to trust Erwin, even in those first uncertain days where hate and trust flowed in equal measure.
He forces himself to relax back into the cradle of Erwin’s arms, the softness of his pecs. Erwin slots their hips together—nothing dirty, just eager to be close. He tangles their shins together.
Levi is only a little horrified to realize how much he loves it. Loves it. He mutters, “Close enough yet?”
Erwin nuzzles the back of his neck, squeezes him tighter. “No.”
“Jesus, you’re a sap.”
“Mm hm.” It’s already slow, drifting, Erwin’s arms relaxing.
Levi listens to Erwin’s quiet, steady breathing, and finally lets himself rest.
***
Sunlight wakes him. His fingers clench in the soft cascade of sheets, and he remembers with a start where he is.
He opens his eyes. Erwin’s gone and his side of the bed is cool, the covers pulled half-up as though he doesn’t intend to return.
Levi’s stomach flips over. He regrets it already.
Except…does he? Levi thinks of the way Erwin drew him into those huge arms, determined to get even closer just before they fell asleep.
No, Erwin doesn’t regret it. But the en suite’s door is open, so he’s not there, and if he isn’t there, then—
Levi’s being ridiculous.
There’s a navy-blue silk robe draped over the footboard on his side, so he throws it around his shoulders, gets up, goes for a piss. Brushes his teeth. He tries not to overthink it, what Erwin’s absence might mean. The man runs an entire secret organization; he’s got responsibilities. He can’t just lounge in bed all morning.
Soon as Levi emerges from the en suite, the main door opens. Levi spends half a moment’s panic realizing that his gun is all the way at the foot of the bed before Erwin slips inside, carrying a tray laden with breakfast accoutrements. He’s dressed in a fine silk robe to match Levi’s, his hair a little disheveled but pushed to the side. When he sees Levi already up, his face breaks into a smile so warm that Levi can’t believe it’s all for him.
“Morning,” Erwin says, and sets the tray on the coffee table. Immediately, he’s heading for Levi, and before Levi can do a damn thing about it, Erwin takes Levi’s face in his hands and kisses him, slow and soft. He’s minty. Delicious.
“Sorry to leave,” he says. “I was hungry. Thought you might be, too.”
“Yeah,” says Levi, realizing through the pleased daze of that kiss that he is hungry. “Show me what you got.”
Erwin is pink across his cheeks as he draws Levi around to the coffee table, their hands linked. “I—I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I brought a little of everything. But there’s tea.” He looks at Levi, blue eyes bright and hopeful. “Do you still drink tea?”
Levi’s heart is breaking and mending all at once; he’s afraid that if he speaks, the moment will fall through his hands like water. No one’s ever brought him breakfast. In this life or the last. “It’s. Yeah, I drink tea. Sometimes.”
“Just sometimes?”
“Marley introduced me to espresso. Hard to go back. Usually only do tea if I’m relaxing.”
“Oh.” Erwin looks faintly embarrassed. “Well, there’s coffee, too.”
Levi plucks one of the little tea bags out of the jar and drops it into one of the delicate-looking teacups. “One of these carafes got hot water?”
Erwin’s smile lights up his whole face. “Yes. The left.”
They’ve worked through most of the tray, and Levi’s finished most of his tea, when Erwin’s smile fades a touch; he studies his coffee. “I hope you know,” he says, “that your place here with the Syndicate doesn’t depend on whether you and I are intimate or not. Whether we—“
Levi sets his tea aside, then takes Erwin’s coffee and sets that aside, too. Then he climbs into Erwin’s lap and fists his hands in the lapel’s of Erwin’s butter-soft robe. “Shut up,” he says, and kisses him.
Erwin smiles into it, one hand sliding up into Levi’s hair, warm and huge. It’s a slow kiss, a brush of tongue, a nudge of noses. Chaste, all things considered. Levi’s heart skips anyway.
He presses their foreheads together. “I know, okay? I know you wouldn’t hold shit over my head like that. But.” He gulps, suddenly nervous. Christ, this is unfamiliar ground. “So we’re clear. I got no intention of bailing on you or your mission anytime soon.”
There are actual stars in Erwin’s eyes, Levi swears it. “I don’t deserve you,” Erwin says, so softly.
“You think it feels like I deserve you?” Levi scoffs. “We’ve both done our share of shitty things, but…it’s like you said. We’ve gotta do better in this life. Maybe then we actually will deserve each other.”
Erwin pulls him in close. Fuck, these robes are thin, and Erwin is so warm, the whole length of his body solid and cozy beneath Levi. “I hope you’re right,” he says. “And I meant to tell you: Hange is already done. Erasing you, I mean.”
Levi blinks at him. “Erasing—what, everything?”
“Everything. I believe they’re in the process of getting you new IDs—passport, driver’s license, birth certificate—so if you have any strong opinions on what you’d like for your alias, I’d let them know sooner rather than later.” He smiles. “You’re a ghost now, too.”
Levi huffs. Honestly, it doesn’t sound so bad. “Guess so.”
“You’re part of the team. And I should have said—yes, we can use your information, but if you’ve got ideas, we want them. I want them. And our resources—whatever you need, they’re yours.”
That’s something Levi hadn’t considered, but of course the Syndicate’s resources would be Levi’s, too.
Not that he’d need them for anything. He’s got everything he could ever want right here. His friends, his family, finally with him again.
Most of them.
“You’ve already thought of something,” says Erwin.
Levi takes a breath, looks Erwin in those lovely blue eyes. There’s a buoyancy in his chest, a lightness that’s unfamiliar but so, so welcome. He says, “I want to find Farlan and Isabel.”
Erwin kisses his forehead. “Then let’s get to work.”