Work Text:
Rain battered against thick panes of glass. Not enough to be worrisome- just enough to provide a soothing white noise with occasional rumbles of thunder, the accompanying flashes muted in the gray haze of thick clouds shrouding the sun.
It was beautiful. Perfect weather for a day off- rare as the storm the blew in for it. You’d had an idea to go run some errands and maybe grab a treat or two to share. Though, it would be too much of a stretch to say you were disappointed in the forced cancellation of your plans. A day in, at least for Erwin, could only ever be enforced by something so far out of his control.
A little victory for you, then.
It was rarer still that you were awake before him. You could probably count on one hand the number of times that that had happened in the entire duration of your relationship. He was a chronic early riser even to the point of frustration; sleeping past sunrise only when overworked to a breaking point or aided by medication or alcohol. He’d lay in bed, though, as long as he could next to you. Reading through emails with his reading glasses on, scrolling through news articles that you’d told him to take a break from because they stress him out, playing some little game with the volume muted so as not to wake you. His favorites were word games. A chronic crossword player.
More often than not, it would be his sweet hums of your name, melodic and paired with little kisses across your face or hands that would wake you- not the alarm you always had set to wake the two of you on time. For his sake, you tried to act like that wasn’t your favorite way to be woken up. Heaven forbid he found out and never slept in again. Because he would absolutely do that.
A dilemma- should you get started on breakfast? Chance the opportunity to bring it to him in bed and risk waking him? The oven clock blinked at half past ten. He’d want to be up soon, anyways. You decided to check on him after starting the coffee and setting out the ingredients for pancakes.
Sure enough, Erwin lay sprawled out nearly horizontal across your bed, arms tucked under his pillow and a foot dangling off the edge of the mattress, breathing steadily- a little rumbly snore. So pretty, with the light from the window cast across his shoulders like that, catching on the ridges of muscle and ends of his sleep-tousled hair. The door you left cracked after staring a moment longer, and you made your way back to the kitchen on light feet.
It was after the first couple of pancakes about half an hour later that you heard Erwin finally making his way to you in the kitchen. He had put on an old t shirt that clashed terribly with the plaid pajama pants he wore. A testament to how groggy he was if he grabbed the wrong shirt.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you said with a smile. “Feel rested?”
He groaned with a pointed look at you before walking up behind you at the stovetop and pulling you close in a hug that belied the grumpy act. A squeeze, a fleeting kiss to your head, and he began pulling out mugs for the two of you and pouring coffee. “I feel hungover.”
“After what, two glasses of scotch last night? You’re worse than I thought, old man,” you laughed as you ladled more batter onto the skillet.
“’M not old. Just out of practice.”
“Out of practice? Drinking or sleeping?”
“Both.”
There was clinking as his spoon came into contact with his mug, hitting the sides as he stirred in the sugar and cream. A swish and a sizzle as you flipped the pancakes, plating as you finished.
He reached to snag a pancake off the top of the stack only to be batted away with a disappointed tut. “Did we pick up strawberries at the store last night? I can’t remember.”
“Already on the table with the syrup. Go sit. I’ll bring you your plate when this batch is finished.”
“What can I do to help?”
“You can go sit. And don’t eat all the fruit before I get over there.”
He backed away, hands raised in mock defense with a little smile. “Alright, fine. But you should probably be quick.”
You were- bringing the promised breakfast and your own coffee, and the two of you settled into an easy rhythm of conversation as you ate. Talking about the weather, the latest chapter of the book he had been reading, the drama with the dating show the two of you had been watching (he swore he wasn’t invested- but he had more to say about it than you ever did).
The conversation ended up where it always seemed to- but how could it not, when work took up such a large part of your lives? And after all, high schools had more drama than any manufactured dating show could ever hope to, and despite his vehement protests, Erwin was nothing if not invested in drama. (The two of you had gotten into a heated discussion once when you jokingly made the claim that you could’ve guessed that about him, since history is essentially documented drama. He did not agree. But the two of you could look back on it and laugh. Because you were right.)
He was such a good teacher, though. World history had always been a favorite subject of his, and his passion came through in every lesson he taught. He was dedicated not just to doing his job, but in making sure that each of his students were met where they were and led to success. He had several students he struggled with, and several that had come to look up to him- going so far as to ask for advice for things completely unrelated to school, or open up about things that should truthfully have been disclosed to a counselor. It made you proud, made you love him even more to see him be so open and appreciated.
Erwin balked at the trust the kids placed in him. He never had much confidence in himself. An expert in the philosophy of ‘fake it until you make it’. He seemed to have missed the part where he had, in fact, made it. Many times over. But his humility was a part of him, and it was what he had you for, you told him. To remind him of all the things he did so well even when he couldn’t see them.
“He just laid down. On the floor. In the middle of my lesson! Said it helps the knowledge reach his brain better if he’s horizontal or something like that.” Erwin laughed, gesticulating with his fork before reaching over and skewering the last few berries from the bowl. “Ridiculous. He’ll kill me one day, I swear.”
“Hey- share! So what did you do?”
He knocked a single strawberry piece onto your plate, ignoring your scowl as he shoved the rest into his mouth and answered with his mouth full. “Honestly- nothing. I just had to take a minute to gape and then ignored it, I suppose.” He swallowed and thought for a moment before continuing. “It’s different in the moment. Compartmentalizing and all that, probably. Teacher mode. But I had a good laugh once their block was over. It was funny. I just have no idea what possessed him to actually do that.”
You weren’t a teacher like Erwin was. You worked in an administration role. Specifically, working with the guidance counselors’ office and the registrar to help make schedules and sort bureaucratic nonsense. Very boring in comparison to your husband’s job, which apparently entailed having students accidentally submit love notes instead of homework and lie down and nap on the floor of his class in addition to the regular teaching, grading, and planning lessons for the whole grade twelve history program.
There was a period in the beginning of your relationship where you felt a little mismatched, a little less-than compared to him with his all his zeal and dual master’s degrees. Deep-seated demons that had shapeshifted into Erwin’s shadow. It didn’t last long once the two of you moved to a more serious and solid partnership. Erwin had a tough shell, you had come to learn. Thick layers of charisma that were practiced. Not his own by nature- though indistinguishable to the untrained eye. He struggled under the weight of his job sometimes. Felt he wasn’t doing enough, wasn’t helping enough, trusted with too much that was out of his depth. Afraid he was messing it all up.
But that was what he had you for, you reminded him.
The truth was a little less simple, of course. It had taken some communication on both your parts to air out those things that had been so carefully tucked away. There were many evenings spent in both couples’ and individual therapy, and it gave you a new appreciation for the man you would spend your life with. You learned each other, came to understand each other in a way that brought the two of you closer.
And how grateful you were to have ever even met such a beautiful person.
Erwin volunteered to clean the kitchen since you had made breakfast. The two of you parted ways then for a bit as you got dressed in a pair of sweats and another of Erwin’s old t-shirts before going about the rest of your morning routine and tidying the bedroom. When the two of you met back up in the living room, he too had changed into sweats, though he still wore the same shirt.
You gasped facetiously as you handed him his book. “We match!”
He snatched it with a very fake glower before plopping down on the couch and dragging you down next to him with an arm around your waist. “You’re a thief.”
“Mmm- nope. Pretty sure that was in our vows. ‘To have and to hold and to share shirts.’ I’m certain that was in there, right in the middle of that big, long chunk towards the end.”
He turned his head to look at you, arm still around your middle. “You and I remember our vows very differently.”
Smiling, you shrugged. “Guess you’re even more of an old man than I thought.”
“Wow.” Erwin withdrew his arm and placed his book on the end table before grabbing you with both arms, shifting you, very suddenly, to recline completely on your back and have him over you. His weight he braced on his hands on either side of your shoulders, knees on either side of your hips. Your mouth hung open. “You’re being awfully rude on what was supposed to be a relaxing day off, Mrs. Smith.”
“Me?” You tried to seem a little less turned on than you were. “You started it! You’re the one that called me a thief and then admitted to not even remembering our wedding vows! And besides, you can wear some of my tops if you want. To even it out.”
A charged moment rested in the inches between your faces, but after a breathy little chuckle shared between sweet little kisses, it flitted away.
“Lay down, Vin. I’ll read to you.”
He obeyed, obliging without a fight as he relaxed flat on his front with his head on your stomach and his hands on your waist. As tall as he was, his legs had to be bent at the knee and rest over the arm of the couch, leaving his feet kicking in the air like a fidgety child. In one hand you held the thick book he was halfway through and the other you buried in his hair, scratching lightly on his scalp.
It was some spy thriller, the book. One you were almost positive he had read before, but you didn’t say anything. It was a little clunky, a little predictable, in your opinion. Not your genre. But it felt like heaven to be there with Erwin. Spending time with your husband without any bells going off every hour, no students laughing or fighting in the hallway, no time limit on how long you could touch before having to whisk off back to work.
It was extremely relaxing. Wholesome, even.
For about a chapter and a half.
That was all Erwin could manage, it seemed, before he began to squirm. Hips shifting ever so slightly. Face burrowing into your middle to plant sporadic kisses every few minutes. One hand sliding under your shirt and up toward your breasts, the other drifting to play against the skin just under the waistband of your pants.
You took it in stride until the tip of his finger began stroking the sensitive underside of one of your breasts. You made it to the end of the paragraph you were on, then paused, looking down at the crown of Erwin’s head.
“Mr. Smith.”
“Yes ma’am?” He answered quickly, but not defensively- though his fingers did still.
“Are you paying attention to me?”
“Yes ma’am. Please, continue.”
With an indignant little hmph, you picked up reading where you had left off.
Erwin remained still until you finished the page; when you lifted your hand off of his head to turn to the next page, his hand that rested beneath you waistband began to creep lower, tickling against the hem of your panties. You paused again, this time placing a hand on his head and pulling lightly to bring his gaze to your face.
“Mr. Smith. This is the second time I’m having to ask you to pay attention.”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Smith.” He looked contrite- boyishly so, with his big blue eyes and sheepish smile. “I was only trying to get more comfortable.”
“Well.” You took in his pretty face a little longer. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Erwin nodded and settled his face again against your stomach. Some of his stubble brushed against your skin there- your shirt (his shirt) having ridden up a little. It nearly made you jump. But you regained composure and began reading again.
“The train began to pick up speed, though Agent Mercury’s mind seemed to run even faster the farther they got from the station. If the drop had already taken place, then—” … you resumed.
And just like that, Erwin went right back to teasing you, even more bold than before. Upper hand moving brazenly to cup the face of your breast, ignoring the way that your breath hitched, and his lower hand gone to rest fully beneath your underwear, his fingertips a hair’s breadth away from the top of your clit.
“Erwin,” you hissed, shamefully near a moan.
“I’m listening, Mrs. Smith.” Even as he spoke, he kissed your skin. “Keep going, please. We’re getting to the good part.”
Shakily, you started again.
“Agent Mercury frantically dialed the number left to him by the man at the coffee stand. He scanned—” Slight pressure was applied to your nipple as Erwin rolled it between his fingertips, even as he whispered at you to keep going. “—He scanned the crowd in the car. Surely the handler would make himself accessible for such sudden need- needs, he was supposed to witness the exchange, but the agent couldn’t seem to spot him. Damn it all, the thought. No one- you had to pause and clear your throat- no one answered his call. Erwin…” You stuttered, unable to focus.
“You can keep going. I’m paying attention. Promise.”
“I can’t- ungh—” you choked when you felt the fingers of his other hand graze against your clit. “You can’t seriously think I can concentrate when you’re doing that.”
Another cheeky smile. “Come on, Mrs. Smith. This is the best part of the book.”
A much more solid tap on your clit led to you nearly dropping the book.
“You know that because you’ve read it before.” Soft blond hairs woven between stiff fingers, knuckles turned white against the silvery patches at his temples. “You’re cruel.”
“You wound me, beloved.” His wandering hands pulled back to a central point, gripping your waist. “I just want to make sure you know that you have all of my attention.”
A kiss then, against the space just above your navel. A filthy thing- tongue and sucking of his mouth that ensured a mark would be left when he pulled away. If he pulled away. He did eventually, looking very pleased with himself when he saw your head lolled back onto the arm of the couch, chest heaving and both hands trying desperately to not lose composure.
Too late.
“I think that’s enough for this afternoon. I’m afraid you’ve lost free reading privileges, Mr. Smith.” The bookmark was placed before you allowed the book to thump down on the ground beside the couch.
“Am I in trouble?” Spoken without a single speck of concern or remorse.
You placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled his gaze to yours. “Do you think you should be?”
The rain had picked up outside, you registered faintly, and the muted light picked up the blues in his eyes. The bits of white stubble, too, shone where they were peppered in along his jaw, around the smirk of his pretty mouth, edging up toward his cheekbones. No less the man you fell in love with- his humor and energy untouched, proven by his continued play at confusion.
“Well, I think ‘no’, but I’d guess that you’re probably looking for a ‘yes’.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“Hmm…” he drummed his fingers against your sides. “Maybe I distracted you?”
“You’re a smart boy.” Lifting one hand away from his cheek, you ran your finger down the slope of his nose, ending with a little ‘boop’ on the end. “Good looking, too, but that won’t help you right now.”
“Not even a little?” It was uncanny the way that he could charm so easily. Of course, you were naturally weak to him and he knew that, but sometimes you wondered what he could be capable of if his heart were any less pure. He smiled like he knew what you were thinking, blinking up at you with those disarming eyes of his. Preening under praise.
“If you bat your eyelashes any more, I think you might take flight.”
Erwin broke the act and laughed heartily at that. You watched the way that he bounced with the force of it and found yourself laughing, too.
“Shall we see how I can make it up to you then, love?” He went back to placing light kisses along your middle. You watched him shift his hips against the cushion he was lying against- not as subtle as he thought.
“I think that’s a good idea, Mr. Smith.”
One little smirk, a huffed laugh, and he set himself to it. Determined hands grabbed the waistbands of your pants and panties, and with a nod of consent from you, both were tugged off and tossed away. Your shirt was gone next, then he scooched his body down the couch, leveling his face with your naked crotch. It was a little funny to see him in all his bulk practically folded in half with his lower legs up in the air, but there was little time to appreciate it because Erwin dove straight in.
His strong arms wrapped over your thighs to hold your hips down when you arched in response to a hard suck against your clit with no preamble. With one hand, you scrabbled for a hold on the back of the couch, and the other ended up once more buried in Erwin’s hair. It seemed he was going for shock value. He got it. And was pleased with himself, if his little hum was any indication.
He ate you out like he hadn’t just eaten a full breakfast- hell, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He was voracious and eager as he sucked and licked and lapped at you until his face was slick.
He liked it that way. He liked to see you shake, dripping, begging for him with grabby hands.
“Erwin,” you breathed. “You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”
Your eyes were closed, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was brimming with pride. He always did when you talked like that to him. He was grinding his hips into the cushion, doing his best to please you and keep you feeling like you were the only person that existed to him. He damn near whined.
He was pushing you toward your climax faster than the bullet train in that stupid book of his. But you grabbed is shoulder, tapping him frantically to make it in time.
“Wait. Erwin, baby, I want—” He had complied, taking his mouth off with reluctance and breathing against you hard, but he slipped a finger into you as you spoke and grinned like a predator when you squeaked in surprise.
“Holy hell, you’re wet,” he murmured as he began to slide his finger back and forth, and then added another before you could even finish your sentence.
You allowed him to continue for a moment. If there was any part of Erwin more skilled than his silver tongue, it was his hands. Nimble fingers and a dedicated mind. But you got close again, so you stopped him.
“Come here,” you ordered breathlessly. “And lose the shirt.”
He did, and divested himself of his sweats and underwear as well before you could ask.
“What else can I do for you?” he teased with still-slick lips, settling himself over you and between your hips. “How can I make it up to you?”
“I want you inside me.” Your arms went around his neck, holding him close.
“I can do that.”
The slide was slick and hot and felt like home.
“Oh my fucking- hngh,” you cried. “You feel so good. You always feel so good for me.”
“I don’t think I can last,” Erwin groaned into your mouth as his hips began to curl into yours with a rhythm. “You got me too worked up.”
“How? I didn’t even blow you!”
It was sure, safe- the kind of intimacy that had you both laughing at that. Never too serious to forget yourselves for the sake of sex. And it was better like that, you were more certain than anything.
“It’s okay,” you assured. “I’ll be right behind you.”
It wasn’t going to be long, but it was still so, so good. He was a warm, heavy weight on you, and he made you feel safer than you had ever felt before. There was such adoration, love, devotion on his face and in his eyes as he cradled your head and drove you to pleasure with a finger on your clit.
You kept praising him, rewarded with heady moans as his thrusts got sloppier. It couldn’t be any better, and you told him so between kisses that missed your mouths and sounds of pleasure that couldn’t be kept in.
It wasn’t the most mind-blowing orgasm Erwin had given you, but sometimes you preferred the ones where you could stay aware enough to watch him. As you clenched and spasmed around him, he groaned and sped up.
You locked your legs behind him and whispered, “Give it to me, Erwin.”
His hips jerked and shook, dick throbbing hard inside you as he came. He hugged you tightly and went limp atop you, as if afraid you would slip away from him if his grip faltered. You matched his embrace and kissed at his temple to help ease him through his orgasm. He shivered as he laid his forehead against your hair. You brushed your fingers up and down his back.
“Am I crushing you?” he asked once his breathing had settled.
“Nope.” He nodded, satisfied. “You’re like a giant weighted blanket.”
“Happy to help,” he laughed. “I’m cold, though.” Without pulling out, he leaned over to the basket of blankets beside the couch and grabbed one to drape over your enmeshed bodies. “Better now.”
“Good.”
A happy silence- a content silence, set to the soundtrack of a thunderstorm. Erwin played with the ends of your hair, you drew shapes along the skin of his back. The candles you had lit earlier were melting away, and the house smelled clean and warm and like home.
You had a cookie recipe you wanted to try that you could get started on later, and Erwin asked you to trim his hair.
It was nice. Comforting.
It all felt like it should.
“Erwin?”
“Hmm?”
“Is this what you pictured for yourself? When you were younger, I mean. Is this where you thought you’d be in life?”
“When I was younger I thought I’d grow up to be Indiana Jones.”
Of course. You should have known.
“Didn’t you dress up as him for, like, five consecutive Halloweens or something?”
“I did,” he laughed. “My dad loved it, though we did have discussions about morality and colonialism.” A little laugh. “But there are worse things for kids to obsess over than archaeology and history, he said. I got the costume down almost exactly, too, by the end. So at least there’s that.”
More laughs, and then the easy quiet again. Keeping up the little touches, maintaining the skinship.
“It is though,” he said after a while. “Where I wanted to be. If Indiana Jones wasn’t an option, being a teacher was next on my list, and world history was always my favorite. I just wanted to keep doing something I was passionate about, you know?”
“Yeah. I get it.” You traced over a scar on his shoulder blade- a tree climbing accident when he was eleven. “That makes me happy.”
“I knew I’d find you, though. That wasn’t on my list of worries as a kid.”
“Oh? And where did that confidence come from?”
Erwin sat up, weight braced on his elbows, and flashed a slightly somber little smile. “A lot of it was my dad. He didn’t talk about my mom a lot, which I understand more now. But he’d answer any question I had about her, except for what made him fall in love with her.”
His hair was loose, free of the usual pomade he slicked it back with, and it hung down boyishly, tousled from your hands and hanging over his eyebrows. You brushed a lock of it back.
“Why not that one?” you asked.
He thought for a moment before answering back, “Well- let me rephrase. He never answered the way that I wanted him too.” You nodded your head, urging him to continue. “I was a really curious kid. Apparently I annoyed most of my teachers because I wouldn’t let them get through a lesson without interrupting them to ask them a million questions.”
“Big shocker,” you drawled slyly.
He rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “Yes, yes- moving on. What I was really after were details- I wanted to know the how’s and the why’s of things, and normally my father catered to that. But when I would ask him about how he fell in love with my mom, he didn’t have an explanation. He said they just did. It used to frustrate me to no end as a child. Having specifics for all but one thing.”
Erwin resituated himself to rest his head on your chest before continuing.
“He told me that when someone loves you, it happens without explanation. And when you both love each other, you just…fit. It would come eventually, and I’d know it when I found it. I was determined after that.”
“That’s… actually a pretty good explanation, I think. Your father was a wise man.”
His face wasn’t visible to you from the angle he was at, but you could feel his cheeks pull into a smile. “He was.”
There was another kind of quiet after that- one a little heavier, a little more somber with the weight of memories and uncomfortable past-tense. But it passed in the whipping wind and Erwin cleared his throat.
“So my answer to your question is ‘yes’. Absolutely.”
“Good.”
“What about you?”
“Hmm. I’d say yes.”
“Is that a confident ‘yes’?”
“It is,” you assured. “I didn’t really have…big goals or aspirations as a kid. I just wanted to be happy and be loved.” It was the truth, but to say it out loud sounded silly. Stupid. You opened your mouth to start backtracking, explaining better, but stopped when Erwin leaned up to kiss you softly.
“I have really good news for you.” His infectious cheeky smile was back, showing off the dimple beneath his chin.
“What’s that, Mr. Smith?”
“You did it. You have officially made it. Accomplished all your dreams, if that was the truth.”
“Yeah?”
“I can personally attest that you are happy, at least as of now, and you are thoroughly—” he kissed you again “-completely—” another peck “-very, very loved.” The last kiss was longer, making sure you knew he meant it, a hand lifted to cradle your cheek like a precious thing.
“I would have to agree,” you murmured into a deeper kiss.
And it was like that for a little while, kissing languidly without parting, basking in the warmth and the sound of the rain and the happiness.
After a bit, the two of you shifted to lay on your sides. Erwin tucked the blanket beneath you to contain the impending mess, then finally slid out of you with a hiss.
“Oh my God. Erwin.”
He seemed genuinely confused, looking at you with wide eyes for the cause of your apparently random outburst. “What? What’s the matter?”
Met with silence and a scowl, he shrugged. “What did I do?”
You poked him on the cheek. “You didn’t shave.”
“Um… yeah? It’s just us hanging out around the house today. I didn’t see the need…?” Anticipatory, but still clueless.
“You went down on me.”
“I did.”
You waited…nothing. So close, and he still didn’t get it.
“You didn’t shave and you went down on me.”
You watched the realization hit him, and he turned very red.
“Ah. I see.”
“I was going to wear shorts tomorrow, too. Ugh,” you pouted.
“Very sorry.” Erwin had the decency to abashed. “I wasn’t thinking. We have some aloe vera in the medicine cabinet. I can get it for you. It should help some.”
You sighed heavily. “No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking about it either. Don’t wanna get up yet, though. I like not doing anything.”
“It is nice, being off. Knowing we don’t have an alarm going off at 4:45 in the morning. I actually slept in for the first time in- maybe ever.”
“No paperwork. No twelve-hour workday,” you added.
“A lunch longer than fifteen minutes.”
A personal point of irritation for Erwin. Mealtimes are meant to be relaxing, he always said. It’s the only break I get and I don’t even have time to finish Connections after I eat. Ridiculous. You agreed with him, of course, though your particular post afforded you a twenty five minute break.
“And,” he started, looking at you suddenly very impishly, “we can take our meetings comfortably on the couch instead of in a supply closet.”
“Erwin!” He let out a laugh when you playfully smacked him on the chest. “You’re insatiable. A cad.”
“I don’t think it counts if it’s with my wife,” he hit back with a smirk. “Also, I am not sorry and you enjoy it.”
“I do, unfortunately. Though that supply closet by the teachers’ lounge is a hard ‘no’ in the future. There are entirely too many spiderwebs in there. I was itchy for, like, three days after that.”
“I agree,” he added with a solemn nod. “That was, in hindsight, perhaps not the wisest choice that we could have made.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to take full advantage of our week off, then.”
“I suppose so, Mrs. Smith. We’ll see what we can get done, hmm?”
“I think…we should start with the new episodes of Married at First Sight.”
“A wise decision. Matthew was definitely cheating in the last one and I would like to see him properly punished. Queue it up.”