Archive of Our Own

Levi doesn’t know about the new model until he’s standing right in front of him – all six feet of tan skin, bright eyes and wiry muscles wrapped up tight in a package labelled Eren Jaeger.

Oh shit, Levi thinks.

“Levi,” Hanji grins, completely oblivious to the way Levi is standing frozen still with his camera slipping loose between sweaty fingers. “This is Eren. He’s our model for the upcoming summer shoot. Eren, this is Levi – he’s our lead photographer.”

“Yeah,” Eren says, and his voice is exactly like Levi remembers – suddenly he’s right back where he was ten years ago. “We’ve met.”

The only reason the slam of Eren’s knuckles into the side of his face doesn’t hurt half as much is because Levi has been preparing for it the moment he saw him. 

.

It was late July and Levi had spent the last three years traveling across half the fucking world just to build up his portfolio.

He’d started in his birthplace of Paris and worked his way through Milan and London and New York, even a brief flit across Asia – Tokyo and Seoul mostly – before landing in Berlin.

He was starting to carve out his nook in the world of fashion photography, but he was still young – just scraping twenty-five by the time his one-sided love affair with Korea had sent him packing for Germany – and the newbies to the business didn’t get shit like fancy hotel rooms or bedsits.

He meets the Jaegers through a mutual friend and Carla graciously welcomes him into their home for as long as he plans on staying in Berlin. They live just far enough out of the city to be away from the clutter and bustle of central life, but near enough to it to count. They have room, she says, and their son would be delighted by the company.

All Levi has to his name at this point is about fifty Euros and his camera so he’s not really in any position to say no.

He accepts her offer and hitches a ride back to their house just on the outskirts of the city where concrete gives way to dirt and the red stained smog of the sky turns a bitter blue.

Stepping out of the back of the pickup he raps loudly on the side of the vehicle to let the driver know his help was appreciated before slinging his bag up over his shoulder and stepping away from the ensuing spray of dust as the wheels spit gravel and grit that stings his eyes as the car races away.

Rather suddenly Levi is alone in front of a two story country-style house with nothing but the clothes on his back and the camera heavy and beautiful in his bag.

The door shudders open in a rusted squeal and a boy steps out – the son, Levi supposes.

“Sie müssen Levi sein, richtig?” He asks as he shuts the door.

Levi shakes his head to let the kid know that he doesn’t speak a word of German.

The kid frowns; although Levi can’t really see much of his face from where he’s standing under the shadows cast by the roof, only the burnished shine of brown hair and the golden glint of sun-beaten skin.

Levi doesn’t think the kid would understand French so he takes a wild stab and asks: “English?”

An expression of intense relief skids over his face and the kid says flawlessly and with only the barest blip of accent: “You’re Levi, right? That photographer guy that’s staying with us for a while.”

Levi goes to answer – probably with something snarky and terribly rude – but the kid chooses this exact moment to step out from beneath the midday shadows and for the first time Levi properly sees his face.

The back of his neck is hot from the sun and his eyes are still watering from the spew of dust left behind by his ride – his words trip and stumble at his lips and suddenly it’s all very hard to breathe.

Eren’s gorgeous in a way that is purely physical – face cut in perfect angles and lips curved in just the right way – but it’s his eyes that do it to him.

Levi can’t look away from those eyes.

.

“Its fine,” Levi says for the third time around a fistful of tissues, wincing not just at the way his nose feels raw and tender beneath his bloody fingers, but at the way his voice comes out funny as voices do when you can’t breathe through your fucking nose. “Its fine, Hanji; it’ll stop in a moment.”

“I can’t believe it,” Hanji says again – the third time herself – as she holds out a box of tissues. Levi gratefully takes another dozen. “That’s so unlike him. I mean, I know he has a temper but I’ve never seen him attack someone unprovoked like that.”

It wasn’t unprovoked, Levi thinks but doesn’t say aloud as he drops the soggy tissues in his hand so they splat loudly in the bathroom sink and looks up into the mirror.

Eren had done a good number on him. For one punch that came completely out of the blue with no windup it probably couldn’t have been much worse if he’d tried.

Levi’s nose wasn’t broken – thank fuck for small mercies – but it was bruising fast in a way that let the spread of bumpy purple sprawl out under his eyes as well. Levi didn’t normally look like the most well rested person in the world, but on the same note the bags underneath his eyes weren’t usually violet either.

Kid should have been a boxer instead of a model – Levi would certainly bet on him.

Levi glances down and makes a noise of disgust. His nose might not be bleeding anymore, but his hands are a revolting mess of fast clotting blood that’s making his palms tacky and brown as it dries.

Without a word Hanji reaches past and turns on the tap for him and Levi grunts out his thanks as he sticks his hands beneath the gush of water and lets slip an audible sigh.

“So,” Hanji says when Levi makes no attempt to speak. “You and Eren, huh?”

Levi’s blood runs as cold as the water feels on his skin. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lies.

Hanji snorts and sets aside the box of tissues she’d been carrying. “I know a break-up punch when I see one, Levi. That?” She waves at Levi’s miscoloured face. “That right there is definitely the work of a break-up punch.”

The sharp shriek of the soap dispenser as Levi pours copious amounts on his palms isn’t enough to drown her out.

“So my question,” Hanji continues, “is when? Because Eren’s only just recently broken out as a model. He only came to the states about three years ago – and I know you haven’t had any interaction with him seeing as how he’s actually spent the better part of his stay jumping between here and Toronto.”

“Hanji,” Levi says tiredly as he leaves the tap running and reaches for some paper towel. “Just let it go, okay?”

Hanji’s watching him carefully in the mirror and Levi wants nothing more than to just walk away and end this whole conversation here but he can’t – not won’t, literally can’t – because his palms still itch with the feel of his own blood and Levi can’t handle his camera until he knows they’re clean, that he won’t dirty his only precious thing.

He squirts more soap on his hands and avoids Hanji’s eyes.

He’s tired. He’s just so, so tired.

“Now that I think about it,” Hanji says, “you’ve been to Berlin, haven’t you?”

“Hanji,” Levi warns.

“But that would have been nearly ten years ago, wouldn’t it?” She muses.

“Hanji,” he hisses again, and her name comes out like a curse. He pulls his hands out from the basin and slams the tap off with his elbow, dripping water and soap suds as he tears more paper towel free. “Just let it go.”

Levi kicks open the bathroom door with enough force that it slams vicious and unrelenting behind him as he exits, leaving Hanji watching him with concerned eyes by the sink.

He stalks down the hallway until he’s far enough away from the bathroom that he feels okay to fumble his phone free and hit fucking number one speed-dial.

Erwin picks up after two rings. “Levi,” he greets easily. “I assume this is about Eren?”

Levi grits his teeth together hard enough he’s surprised they don’t chip as he fights down the burgeoning sense of betrayal. “You didn’t even think you should warn me?”

“I thought it might be best if you weren’t given a chance to run. You have a history of resorting to extreme means to escape small problems.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses. “I told you –.”

“You told me if I ever sent you to Berlin you’d quit on the spot. I haven’t sent you to Berlin, Levi; Berlin has come to you.”

Levi sucks in a deep breath and follows that up with another as he tries to keep from screaming down the phone at Erwin because twelve year-old tantrums rarely solve problems and Erwin is still technically his boss.

“What are you playing at?”

“Eren is a talented model,” Erwin says firmly. “We are lucky to be working with him. I’m sorry but your past with him does not nullify his value to us; not everything is about you. This discussion is over.”

Levi hangs up without another word before he does something he’ll really regret.

The hallway is empty enough that Levi can lean against the wall and close his eyes without risking an awkward explanation, grinding the palms of his hands into his sockets and ignoring the way it flares up the bruising burn.

Eren Jaeger was from ten years in his past and Levi had been so sure that would be where he’d stay for the rest of ever. He’d never thought – never allowed himself to believe – that their paths would ever cross again, not in this lifetime.

There’s a photo Levi has in a shoebox in his apartment that he hasn’t looked at since he put it there eight years ago. He’s not even thought of it in at least three.

Ten years ago in Berlin he’d taken seven photos of Eren Jaeger and deleted every single one except the last.

Levi lets out an uneven breath and drops his hands from his eyes.

His face feels like it’s on fire and he suspects it might take a good few days for the swelling to go down enough that he can properly use his camera.

He thinks of Eren lying on the floor in the Jaeger household, his eyes closed and his shoulders rising up and down in even breaths, the blue of Levi’s blanket around his bare shoulders; how for that brief second when Levi had peered through his camera everything had felt right.

His face hurts and he can feel his nose bleeding again.

It’s probably no less than he deserves.

.

“I still don’t get why I can’t come with you when you go into the city,” Eren whines as he kicks his feet absently against the wooden beams of the underside of the deck. “Do you even understand how boring it is just to hang around here all day? Fuck, I swear I’m going insane.”

“Oi, watch your language shithead,” Levi scolds but doesn’t look up from where he’s cleaning the various lenses of his camera. “If your mother hears you talking like that I’m the one who’s going to cop the blame.”

Eren smirks and leans back on his hands, peering at Levi over his shoulder. “Well maybe you should just let me come with you into Berlin and I’ll make an effort to clean up my language.”

Levi snorts as he carefully wipes the delicate glass with a cloth. “Your parents think you’re the sweetest little thing when in reality you’re nothing but a manipulative little shit.”

“What can I say; I’m learning from the best.”

It was dry and hot and Levi doesn’t understand why it’s making him so desperately uncomfortable when he’d been to much hotter countries before. He’d had a stint in Australia during the middle of December, yet he didn’t sweat nearly as much as he is now sitting cross-legged on the floor of the guest room with the sliding glass door open to the veranda out front, Eren sitting with his legs hanging over the side as he bugged Levi in that way that fifteen year old boys bugged everybody they met.

Eren lets out a sigh and flops backwards against the decking in a spray of lanky limbs. “It’s too hot for this,” he mumbles as his eyes slip closed.

Levi tries not to stare at the line of his neck, the sweat trickling down to lick at his collarbone, easily visible beneath the neck of his shirt which was too large on him and gliding loose at his shoulder.

It feels like there’s a rock in Levi’s stomach and his throat goes very dry.

“If the heat’s bothering you that much piss off and take a shower or something; leave me the fuck alone,” he rasps and turns his attention back to the unassembled camera, trying desperately to ignore the way his hands shake.

Eren pouts and rolls over, opening up his eyes to watch Levi click and unlick his lenses.

Levi has been here long enough by now to build up a certain – immunity wasn’t the word – tolerance against Eren’s gaze, but when he looks at him like that; nothing but sheer intensity in blue-green eyes … Levi can hardly take it.

“What are you doing?” Eren asks.

Levi doesn’t look, only reaches for another lens. “Making sure I keep my camera in good condition,” he says steadily. “Otherwise I’d ruin the lenses.”

“Is your camera that important to you?” Eren asks and he’s still doing it – looking at Levi like this whole thing is the most important thing in the world to him right now.

“Very,” Levi answers.

“Why?”

“Because,” he says as places the cloth down and reaches for some cotton buds, “it was the very first thing I ever bought for me.”

They fall into silence for a moment, the only sounds the gentle swabbing of cotton buds against the delicate curve of the lens and the outside chirp of cicadas.

“Can I help?” Eren asks and Levi falters.

“With the cleaning?” He specifies, and Eren simply nods.

He means to say ‘no’ – he means to tell Eren that this camera is too precious to him to be handled by a brat who doesn’t know the first thing about photography – but Eren just looks so earnest; like all he wants in life right now is for Levi to let him help.

Levi sighs and pats the floorboards next to him and Eren scurries over eagerly.

“If you drop this,” Levi threatens as he passes Eren his camera, “I fucking swear I’ll kill you and leave you somewhere to be turned to pig shit.”

“Yes, sir,” Eren grins like the brat he is, but his hands are soft and gentle as he weighs it between his fingers and Levi knows without a doubt that Eren would probably sooner cut off his own arm than damage the camera now knowing how much Levi values it.

They sit silently, knees bumping as Levi passes a cotton swab to Eren, watching critically as he starts to clean the camera. He’s not actually doing that bad of a job, if Levi is honest, but it’s not perfect and when it comes to his work everything has to be perfect.

“More like…” he pauses and Eren raises an eyebrow.

“More like what?”

“I don’t know – just not like that.”

Eren sighs and it is loud and obvious and clearly faked. He looks Levi right in the eye. “Well,” he says as he settles in closer and drifts his hands to hover over Levi’s lap, “if I’m doing such a bad job, you’ll just have to show me then, won’t you?”

Eren’s looking right at him, meeting his eyes without flinching, and he knows exactly what he’s doing – Levi can fucking see it in the sharp corners of his mouth, the intensity of his gaze; can feel it in the way he’s brushing much too close to be accidental and leaning in near enough to be nothing short of completely intentional.

Levi has no clue what he’s doing – why he’s reaching for Eren’s hands when he should be putting as much distance between them as possible – but he keeps going anyway, fingers wrapping loose around Eren’s as he guides his wrist slowly in a circle.

They stay like that long after the camera is clean.

.

The thing about photo studios is that they’re always unerringly bright – lit in sprays of artificial light that bounce off sheets of silver here and camera flashes that flare like the sun there.

It’s never really bothered Levi before – it’s his playground, his reason to live – but the thing is he’d never had to try and work with two black eyes before.

Hanji had kept her mouth shut about what had happened and nobody had actually been game enough to ask why Levi looked like he went three rounds with a heavy weight boxer and then some, but he can feel the concerned glances flicked his way every time his back is turned.

It’s all Levi can do to grit his teeth and act professional.

“To the left,” he calls and Eren moves flawlessly, tilting his head so that Levi has a better view of his perfectly angled jawline.

He raises his camera and clicks.

Last time he’d seen Eren he’d been fifteen with more testosterone than brains and a body that was just crossing the line from teenage awkwardness in fits and starts, barely taller than Levi. Now he had an entire five inches on him and was muscular in that lanky way that everybody wanted to be but so few managed.

He looked like a model – he was a model.

Levi raises his camera and Eren’s eyes flicker over, meeting his own for a brief, powerful second.

Then he looks away.

Breathe, Levi reminds himself as he clicks another photo. You’re thirty-five now and you can handle this.

Somebody calls an end to the shoot and as Eren steps out of the light his skin almost ripples in a golden glow.

Levi cannot handle this.

Eren had been gorgeous enough when he was fifteen and had no clue about the effect he had on people. At twenty-four he looks like a fucking sex-god and knows it.

Levi steps away from the shoot set-up and waits patiently for a techie to unplug his camera before he heads for the table in the office where he keeps his padded camera bag. He’s come a long way from the twenty-something that stepped off the back of a pickup in Germany with one set of clothes and a satchel over his shoulder and one of the perks is being able to afford nice things like memory-foam cases.

The office is empty and Levi breathes a sigh of relief as he places his camera gently on the table and zips open his camera bag.

“Good work today,” Eren says behind him and Levi jumps – he’d never even heard him come in.

Eren’s face is unreadable and Levi has no clue how fucking quickly he must have changed to be standing there so easily in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Levi watches him cautiously. “You’re not going to punch me again, are you?” He asks. “Because you got a free hit in last time but I will hit you back if you try again.”

Eren snorts and holds up his palms in the universal symbol of surrender. “I’m not stupid; I know if it came to a fight you could probably kick my ass. I’ve seen how surprisingly toned you are.”

It’s an innocent comment but a loaded statement and Levi just wishes fervently and with passion that he had perfected a method of coping with his problems that didn’t just involve running away until they could no longer catch him.

Eren was one problem he never thought would, and look where that got him now.

Eren’s gaze flicks behind Levi and he nods at the table. “Is that the same camera?”

Is that the same camera I used to seduce you ten years ago in another country entirely?

Levi turns away from him and busies himself with slipping it back into the case, nestling it comfortably in the foam. “Yeah. I told you before it was important to me.”

Eren laughs. “Oh, I wasn’t sure. I mean, you’ve got a bit of a history of leaving things behind.”

Levi tells himself that the comment doesn’t hurt – that it shouldn’t hurt because it was the fucking truth – but the words still lance and barb all the same and suddenly instead of just being hurt he’s angry too.

Levi spins around and takes a step forward until he’s in Eren’s space, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him down to eye level. Something that somehow both is and isn’t shock flits over Eren’s face but he makes no move to escape, only raises a hand to grab Levi’s wrist to keep the pair of them steady.

“Listen to me you complete shit for brains retard,” Levi hisses. “I know I fucked up, but it’s been ten years and I’m sorry. Whether you choose to believe me is your own problem, but I will not have you come into my workplace and remind me that I screwed up. It was a mistake and I regret it every day, but you sassing me every time I see you isn’t going to make it go away.”

Something complicated was happening on Eren’s face and he opens his mouth to say something only to shut it again and laugh – a breathless painful twist of a sound as his eyes slip closed.

“Jesus fuck, you don’t get anything, do you?” He asks, and Levi feels like he should be offended but before he can make up his mind Eren is speaking again. “I just… God, Levi. I was fifteen and I was so fucking in love with you that I barely knew what to do with myself when you were around.”

There’s something tight in Levi’s throat and it hurts to breathe past it, but he does anyway. “I know,” he says.

Eren’s eyes fly open and suddenly he grips Levi’s wrist hard enough that Levi’s hand flies open on reflex and Eren’s shirt slips from his fingers, but Eren makes no move to step away only to step in closer, backing Levi against the table with frightening ease and never letting go once.

“No,” he says, and Levi can see the anger plain on his face. “You don’t know. You know why you don’t know? Because when I woke up you were gone. Do you realize how fucking dumb I felt standing in the kitchen with your teeth marks on my neck listening to my mother tell me you’d left for Paris while I was sleeping?” He laughs again but this one is more self-deprecating, a good deal angrier. “It wasn’t like I had any illusions that it was anything more than a fucking joke to you – but it was serious to me.”

Levi’s heart is beating too fast and he can barely think past the nerves live-wiring hot from where Eren’s skin is touching his, but he tries anyway. “You were fifteen,” he says and somehow his voice doesn’t waver. “You were fifteen and there was no way out that didn’t involve hurting you. I shouldn’t have done it at all; but I did and after that all I could do was damage control.”

“Well then,” Eren snaps, his hold almost painful now. “You didn’t do a fucking good job of that, did you?”

Levi closes his eyes and says for what feels like the thousandth time but will still never feel like enough: “I’m sorry.”

It’s silent for a moment except for the steady thump of Levi’s heart and Eren’s harsh breaths.

After a moment Eren’s fingers loosen and Levi’s hand slides free.

“Whatever,” Eren says and Levi has never heard him sound so exhausted. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Levi doesn’t open his eyes; just breathes deeply until he feels Eren step away, the thump of his footsteps as he turns towards the office door.

“Levi?” He says, and it’s only the way it sounds more like a statement than a question that makes Levi look.

Eren is standing still by the door, one hand on the frame and his head turned slightly although he’s not actually looking at him. Levi can see the minute flex of his fingertips against the wood like his fingers want to curl into a fist.

His jaw tightens.

“You were the reason I became a model,” he says.

And then he’s gone.

.

It’d been building for a while between them, but somehow Levi is still unprepared when the dam breaks.

Levi’s shirtless – “fuck, don’t look at me like that Eren, it’s too hot for shirts” – and they’re in his room with nothing but the slow whirl of the fan above for company and the steady shuffle of Eren sorting through some of his photos as he lays sprawled on his stomach on the floorboards, shirt hitching slightly and shorts barely hanging onto his hips.

Levi’s camera is in his hands and it takes everything he has not to just raise it then and there and snap a photo.

Eren shifts slightly and his shirt catches on a loose nail in the floor.

“Eren,” Levi says and points when Eren glances at him. “Carla’s not going to be pleased if you tear your shirt.”

Eren groans and sits up, placing the photos he was flicking through reverently aside – and something in Levi aches at that, the way they’re important to Eren just because they’re important to him – and tugging at the hem with slender fingers.

“Fuck it,” he says, and then repeats with deliberate intent: “It’s too hot for shirts.”

Please no, Levi thinks desperately but Eren’s hands have already slipped under the fabric and he’s stripping it off – not just taking, because Eren Jaeger doesn’t do things by halves, but stripping – and Levi cannot look away from the flex of his spine, the contours of his developing chest, the lines of his collarbone.

He’s beaded with sweat all over.

Levi can barely breathe and his fingers hurt from how tight he’s squeezing his camera.

Eren drops his shirt to the ground with a relieved sigh, raising his arms over his head in a careless stretch. “Much better,” he groans and his eyes flick up to look at Levi and there’s something in them that he doesn’t know how to name. “What?”

“I want to take your picture,” Levi blurts before he can think – before he realizes he’s asking a half-naked fifteen year old boy this question.

Eren blinks at him. “Sure, if you want. I thought you only took photos of like, models and stuff though.”

“Only for a living,” Levi says more calmly than he actually feels as he raises his camera. “I take photos of anything I find beautiful. You ready?”

Eren stares at him and Levi has a suspicion he’s not actually breathing. “Uh, yeah. Whenever is good.”

Eren sits back a bit, rolls his shoulder unintentionally as he leans so his palms are splayed behind him on the floor.

His neck is shiny with sweat and through the viewfinder Levi sees a drop cling to his neck.

He snaps a picture.

It wasn’t like Levi didn’t know – he knew alright. He’d known since the first night Eren had snuck into his room with a grin and a really bad lie that he wanted Levi’s help on his homework. Had known with the way Eren always sat too close, always listened too carefully.

Eren Jaeger’s crush on him was as obvious to him as the inherent beauty of film grain and darkrooms – Levi had just been hoping the fact that he returned the sentiment two fold hadn’t been.

Eren takes in a breath and changes positions slightly, tilting his head and lengthening his neck with a kind of natural ease and grace that was completely at odds with the awkward spread of his shoulders, the way his limbs were gangly in their growth.

Levi snaps another photo and the sound of the shutter going off is achingly loud.

Eren glances up from beneath his lashes and there is something about it that seems intentional in a way that makes all of Levi’s blood run hot at once.

“What should I be doing?” He asks, voice so low and quiet it was almost a murmur.

“Just…” Levi breathes. “Whatever you want.”

Eren’s eyes darken. “Whatever I want?” He repeats – and then he smiles.

Before Levi can realize his intentions Eren has unbuttoned his shorts, unzipped his fly so that Levi can see the black fabric of his boxer-briefs and is leaning backwards on his elbows with his pants barely fucking on looking like a pinup from an adult magazine.

Levi can’t move – the camera is still in his hands.

“Well?” Eren asks, and his voice is low and silky and the faint burr of his accent makes the breath hiss out of Levi all at once. “I was promised you’d be taking pictures.”

Levi swallows deeply and gets to his knees for a better angle, hearing the uneven creak of the floorboards beneath him as he manages to steady the camera in his hands and take another shot.

Eren’s eyes drift from his face, tracing down his body eagerly and coming to a rest on the definite erection Levi has been sporting since Eren all but made taking his shirt off into a fucking striptease.  

“Oi,” Levi rasps and Eren’s eyes flick back up but his cheeks are flushed desperately and his breathing is more panting than anything else now. Levi can barely see the green of his irises, his pupils blown wide.

He clicks another photo, shuffles nearer on his knees and takes another and he just keeps moving closer until he’s hovering above Eren, kneeling between his spread legs and close enough that all he’d have to do is shift his hips to brush his groin against Eren’s.

Eren is so painfully and obviously aroused that he’s nearly trembling with it all as Levi aims the camera down at him – and Levi wonders how they’d look if someone took a picture of the both of them right now, shirtless and sweaty and desperately hard for each other.

Levi’s fingers are shaking so much he can barely press the shutter button and every exhale he makes sounds like it could be his last.

Eren’s eyes close and a drop of sweat rolls down his face to curve along his upper lip and Levi has never wanted to  taste anything so badly in his whole life.

“Fuck,” he spits and throws – throws – his camera aside.

The noises Eren makes as Levi’s lips crash into his are needy and pained and desperate – pitched gasps and groans as Levi forcibly knocks him flat to the ground, his hands on Eren’s waist as Eren’s own fingers fly up to clutch hard and tight in Levi’s hair.

“Levi,” he all but moans and Levi’s hips stutter all on their own, pushing down against Eren’s and making him shout as they start grinding together desperately without a single thought, just mindless pressure and pain.

It briefly crosses Levi’s mind that Carla and Grisha were out – that’s it, that’s why Eren was even in his room in the first place – and the relief he feels is immense and overwhelming because he doesn’t think he could stop himself right now if he tried.

“Eren,” he gasps as Eren somehow manages to get his legs around his waist. “Fuck, Eren. I need you to – shit – I need you to slow down.”

Eren whines at that and just ruts them together harder yet and Levi’s vision starts to waver black, the tightness in his gut stretching so taut he feels like nothing short of a grenade.

He’s not going to last long.

Levi fumbles with Eren’s pants, pushing them down far enough that he manages to slide his hand into Eren’s boxers and wrap his fingers around him, feeling the hot weight and wetness as he squeezes.

The sound Eren makes against his lips is a ripped gasp and the grip he has in Levi’s hair should be painful but everything is just intense heat and crippling pleasure and all it does is add a sharp spike in sensation that tears a groan from him as he slides his hand along Eren’s erection in a slick pump.

“Levi, Levi,” Eren gasps and his legs are tight at Levi’s waist and he’s pushing his hips up fervently into his hand, positively writhing beneath him, head titlted back and sweat rippling across his face as he groans and groans, bucking without pause into Levi’s hand.

Levi can’t – he just can’t. Everything is Eren and he doesn’t know why he’s been fighting against this for so long because he’s never felt so good in his life, never wants to not feel this good again, and he thinks he could probably come just from feeling Eren twitching and wet in his hand, seeing how truly desperate he is for him.

“Levi,” Eren pants as one hand slips from his hair to cradle the back of his neck like Eren is holding on for dear life. “I’m going to – I want – please,” he gasps. “I need you to – not just – not just me, okay? I want…” The rest of his sentence trails off but his eyes are suddenly focused and intense, locked completely with Levi’s own. “Please.”

And it’s the same eyes that Levi saw a month ago when he stood outside of this very house covered in travel-grime and sweat and he’s helpless against it, powerless to do anything but bury his face in the crook of Eren’s neck and groan as he fumbles his hand free and manages to finally steady his shaking fingers enough to dig them under his waistband and tug down. Eren raises his hips to help them slide free – moaning as the elastic drags over his dick – before finally pooling at his ankles and being kicked free.

Just like that Eren is naked and panting and flushed beneath Levi, dick hard and slick against his abs and stomach heaving with every desperate inhale and exhale.

Levi wants to touch him – leave nothing untouched – wants to burn this moment into Eren’s skin forever, to make it so every inch of him will remember all the things Levi is going to do to him.

More than that – he wants Eren to want it too. He needs Eren to need him as much as he needs Eren right now.

Eren’s fingers tighten on his shoulders. “Please,” he says again and his voice cracks. “Levi, please.”

Levi swears and it’s all he can do to press a kiss to Eren’s exposed throat before he turns to fumble blindly in his satchel which is lying abandoned behind him.

It takes several painful seconds of searching with his fingertips before he manages to feel the crinkle of the needed little silver packages that have been at the bottom of his bag untouched for all his stay in Berlin.

When he turns back Eren is watching him with wide eyes.

“If you want me to stop,” he says, “you need to tell me now. Eren, I can’t –.”

Eren is shaking his head before Levi can even finish speaking. “What I need,” he says, and he sounds almost coherent, “is for you to get the fuck back over here and touch me before I have to do it myself.”

Christ, Levi thinks as he leans forward and shoves Eren back on the floor as he somehow manages to rip a package of lube open with his teeth because he doesn’t trust himself not to drop it with his fingers. Jesus fucking Christ – I’m doomed.

He opens Eren up as slowly as he possibly can, listening intently for any sign that this is too much, that Eren needs him to stop, but the only thing Eren does is breathe evenly and deeply through the initial uncomfortableness as Levi’s first finger slides slick but deep in him, digging his nails hard enough into Levi’s shoulder blades that he feels the skin break.

It shouldn’t turn him on but it does because everything right now has narrowed to Eren’s touch on his skin and the sound he makes when Levi spreads him open with another finger, leaning forward to take a nipple gently between his teeth so that the pained hiss turns into a groan.

By the time he has a third finger in he manages to find Eren’s prostate, scraping against it as he presses so that Eren actually cries out and clings to Levi in a shaking, sobbing mess as he pushes back on his fingers, trying to get him to find the spot again and Levi just can’t hold out anymore.

He pulls away and Eren makes a garbled complaint that Levi can’t even understand because he slipped back into German a while ago, but when he sees Levi tearing open the condom packet his breath hitches and he turns his head away, but the way his dick is twitching against his stomach tells Levi it’s out of embarrassment rather than fear.

Still, he pauses as he settles between Eren’s legs and smooths one hand along his cheek until he can once again see the green – so fucking intense, god – of Eren’s eyes.

“Okay?” He asks, and he hasn’t touched his own cock once and he’s so fucking hard and desperate but he needs one final affirmation from Eren before he can allow himself to do this.

Eren’s lashes cast spider-web shadows on his cheeks as his eyes close and he raises one arm to cover them, but he nods firmly, gripping at Levi’s shoulder with a hand.

Levi takes a breath and pushes in.

It takes everything he has not to hold Eren down and fuck him mercilessly – he feels his breath knocked out of him as Eren tenses around him and he’d known Eren was a virgin but any memories Levi has about first-time sex are foggy at best so he’s completely unprepared for the way Eren’s body feels so tight it rips every last piece of oxygen from him as thoroughly as if he’d stepped into a vacuum.

Eren’s hiding his face behind his arm but his chest is rising and falling so rapidly that Levi feels a flare of alarm. “Hey,” he coaxes as he takes Eren’s wrist to pull his arm away. Eren resists for a second but ultimately allows Levi to move it. “Do you need me to stop?”

The idea of stopping is nearly physically painful with the way his cock is throbbing and his brain is urging him to just slam his hips forward, but Levi’s not a fucking animal and if this is too much – if Eren can’t – he’ll end it as easily as he’d begun it.

“That’s not…” Eren’s voice is hoarse and gasping. “Just… Slowly, okay?”

Levi bends and presses a kiss to his forehead before he starts them at a rhythm.

It’s so slow it hurts but with each steady roll of his hips Eren grows less and less tense, arms coming up to circle Levi’s back as he makes an effort to move with him, face buried in Levi’s shoulder until Levi manages to find his sweet spot and he lets out a strangled shout and presses his fingers hard enough into Levi’s back to bruise.

“Again,” he begs and Levi angles and pushes and is rewarded by a strained groan as Eren buckles beneath him and urges Levi’s hips harder and harder – faster, faster, faster.

“Fuck,” Levi gasps as he presses his hands into the floor either side of Eren’s twisting body, thrusting with abandon and feeling the clench in his stomach, the white-out of his vision. Eren’s so warm and hot and fucking beautiful and Levi’s not going to be able to hold out any longer he’s –

Eren cries out and tenses around him hard, back arching off the floor and eyes flying wide open as his orgasm hits.

The sight of him – the hot feel of his come spurting against his stomach – is too much for Levi and he shudders desperately as he feels everything inside him snap and he’s only dimly aware of one of his hands on Eren’s hips as he holds him to the ground, of pushing himself deep inside of him, but it’s all background noise to the thrumming in his head and the hot spill of his blood. “Eren,” he gasps aloud; and he keeps on gasping it until he can see again.

They’re both still, panting against each other’s skins, and it takes Levi a long moment before he can move, pulling out of Eren as gently as he can. A small hiss of pain escapes him anyway and Levi can do nothing but press his lips to his collarbone in apology because he might not remember much about his first time but he does remember how raw it tends to leave you.

He doesn’t look at Eren as he shuffles back, stripping the condom off and tying it as he drops it in the bin by his desk before grabbing a handful of tissues and wiping Eren’s come off his stomach.

Levi doesn’t really know what to do now – if there’s a protocol for this. Everything in him is screaming to just do up his pants, find a shirt and run as far away as he possibly can.

Eren’s still lying on his back but he’s staring at the ceiling, not even looking at him.

Levi wonders if he’s just fucked things up beyond repair because Eren is fifteen – and he knows he hasn’t done anything technically illegal; consent in Germany is fourteen so Eren’s been legal for close to two years – but illegal and wrong don’t always coincide.

“I don’t suppose,” Eren says into the silence and Levi starts, “that I could convince you to just stop thinking about things for a second and lie down with me?”

Eren looks at him and smiles – eyes bright and clear but tired in a way that losing your virginity to a man ten years your senior will leave you.

Levi hesitates – considers just getting up and bolting – but Eren’s just staring at him wordlessly with nick and scrapes from Levi’s teeth on his neck and bruises from his fingers on his waist and Levi doesn’t want to say no.

Slowly – and Levi doesn’t know who he thinks will bolt if he moves too quickly; him or Eren – he crawls along the floor until he’s by Eren’s side and it’s too hot for this, they’re covered in sweat from heat and sex and it is definitely too hot for this, but when Eren cautiously takes his arm and drapes it behind his shoulders Levi can’t help but pull him close.

They stay like that for so long Levi loses track of time. At some point the sun goes down and Eren’s breathing goes from being deep and measured to soft and even and Levi realizes he’s fallen asleep.

He’s twenty-five years old and he’s lying on a floor in Berlin with his arms around a teenager whose virginity he’s just taken.

Levi closes his eyes and breathes deeply through the sheer onslaught of panic.

Eren is fifteen and has his whole life ahead of him and if the Jaegers learn that Levi has essentially deflowered their barely-legal teenage son he can’t even pretend he knows the shit show that would go down.

He turns his head slightly and feels the brush of Eren’s dark hair against his chin as he looks down at him.

He’s gorgeous and tenacious and everything he says and does makes Levi never want to let him go.

It’s that thought more than anything – the possessive urge to stay and give up on all his dreams, to put aside his rising status as an international photographer and fuck what anybody else thought – that galvanises Levi into action.

Slowly, so as not wake Eren, he shifts his arm from underneath him and rolls away.

Eren’s eyes flutter slightly but he doesn’t wake as Levi gets to his feet, doesn’t stir when Levi drags the blanket off his bed and drops it over him.

It’s a mark of how few possessions he has that he manages to be packed in under five minutes.

Standing at the doorway with his bag slung over one shoulder and his camera in his hands Levi feels inexplicably lost. He doesn’t know what he’s doing – where the fuck he plans on going now – and it’s all he can do just to take a moment to stare at Eren, the naked sprawl of his skin and the snarls of his hair brushing loose along his brow.

This will be the last time Levi ever sees him.

The snap of his shutter is lonely and loud in the room and by the time Eren wakes up five hours later – confused and hurt and alone – Levi is on a plane to France.

.

Levi doesn’t remember how he figured out where Eren lives – doesn’t remember anything that seems to have happened before that fifth drink, really – but somehow he’s standing out front of his apartment door with no clue how he got there.

Eren answers after the first knock and Levi doesn’t wait to catch the look of shock or disgust or whatever else he’d be after discovering Levi standing outside at one in the morning, only steps in so suddenly Eren has no choice but to step back and kicks the door aggressively closed behind him.

“What –.” Eren starts to say but Levi reaches up and grabs his shirt and shoves;topples them both to the ground in one fluid movement so that Eren is sprawled on his back and Levi is straddling his waist, legs folded either side of his hips while his fingers clench tight in Eren’s shirt – the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

“Do you hate me?” He growls and Eren just gapes.

“Levi, what the –.”

“It’s a simple question, you shithead. Four words and a question mark – don’t act like you can’t fucking understand me. Do you hate me?”

Eren just stares up at him with wide eyes and Levi can’t – he’s just so fucking angry. Angry because Eren had to come back into his life, angry because he couldn’t fucking leave well enough alone, angry because Eren had grown up in ten years but still managed to be exactly the same person and angry because some part of him thinks he’s been stuck on standstill ever since the day he left Eren lying there on the floor.  

He was just angry.

“Are you drunk?” Eren asks after a pause and Levi averts his gaze. Eren sighs, runs a hand through his hair and somehow manages to look more exasperated than anything else, like Levi hadn’t just stalked him to his goddamn apartment and practically assaulted him. “Do you need me to like, I don’t know, call a cab for you or something?”

Levi narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on Eren’s shirt, settling himself properly on his chest so that Eren winces under the pressure of his weight. “I can walk home just fine,” – except for the fact he probably can’t, because he doesn’t even remember getting here, doesn’t even really remember where here is – “and I’ll leave just as soon as you answer my question.”

“Levi,” Eren says, and Levi can hear the patronizing tone before he even starts speaking, feels it boil his blood because ten years ago Eren worshiped the ground he walked on and now here he is speaking like Levi is a particularly dull child – he doesn’t know why he’s so upset when this is exactly what he should want. “You’re drunk off your face and white as a sheet. We’ve got work tomorrow, so you should probably go home.”

“Answer the question.”

“Or alternatively,” Eren proposes without skipping a beat, “you can sleep on the sofa if you think you can’t make it back to your apartment.”

It occurs to Levi that Eren is dodging the question but the realization doesn’t make it to anywhere in his brain that is saturated with ten ounces of vodka. “You don’t want me in your apartment,” he scoffs.

“Whether I want you in my apartment or not isn’t the point,” Eren hisses. “You’re drunk and unfortunately you’re here and I’m not the kind of person to let a co-worker – fuck, anybody – walk home when they’re too smashed to see straight.”

Levi closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath but doesn’t move from his perch, feeling the steady rise of Eren’s chest beneath his thighs. “All you have to say is ‘yes’ and I’m gone,” he says. “One word is all it takes, Eren. Do you hate me?”

Eren stays silent beneath him.

Levi’s eyes fly open and without meaning to – without thinking about what he’s doing – he yanks Eren up by his shirt so their faces are barely half an inch apart. “I need you to tell me you hate me,” he snaps. “I – just – fuck. You need to say yes – why the fuck won’t you say it? Is this your way of getting revenge? You think if you just stay silent long enough you’ll hurt me so bad I can’t recover? Fuck, I always knew you were a manipulative shit. Is that what this is about, Eren? Revenge?”

“I don’t know what this is about because I have no clue what the fuck you’re saying!” Eren roars so suddenly that Levi’s heart freezes because he’s never heard Eren raise his voice like that– never seen that look on his face before.

Bad move, he thinks suddenly, abort.

Levi goes to move, to dismount and back away as quickly as possible, but he’s drunk and Eren’s not and he stands no chance when Eren lurches to his knees with enough force that Levi falls to the ground, Eren looming over him, boxing him in with hands either side of his head as he glares down at Levi with enough intensity that something that had been unhinged in his mind since he’d decided drinking away his sorrows was the best course of action slots into place.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Eren spits. “Do you want the truth, Levi? Because the truth is I’ve spent ten years of my life being pissed off at you but not once in all of those years have I ever thought I hated you.”

No, Levi thinks as he stares blankly up at him, fingers curling into fists at his sides because this isn’t going the way he needs it to go. He needs Eren to say it – he needs Eren to tell him how much he hates him, how despicable and horrible he is. He needs Eren to cut off that last connection between them because Levi can’t do it himself.

He needs to give up on Eren and yet Eren is – typically – making it all very difficult.

“You’ve been so hung up on the fact that I was fifteen that it seems to slip your mind that I’m not anymore.” Eren’s jaw is set in that distinct way he’s had all of his life, a tight line of effortless tension as he breathes in shallow breaths. “I was so angry at you – I still fucking am – but more than that, I thought if I ever met you again I’d like you to treat me like I’m worth something. I thought…” Eren trails off and makes a pained noise. “I thought it’d be nice if – just once – you could look at me the way you look at the world through your camera.”

Levi stares at him, at the way his expression has slipped from fury to wistfulness to earnestness all in the course of a single confession. The furrow between his brows is familiar – the light in his eyes and the tight corners of his mouth.

It’s the same expression it’s always been.

Levi’s drunk – he’s sobered up some since coming here, but he’s still drunk enough to count – so when he speaks, when the words blurt out of his mouth like fucking verbal diarrhoea, he chooses to blame it on that.

“I still have a photo of you,” he says and Eren’s eyes go wide. “The last one I ever took – snapped it as I was walking out the door.” He laughs, low and a little desperate. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? I deleted every copy of the other shots and kept that one all because I remember thinking ‘this is the last time I’ll ever see him’ – and yet here you are; because apparently it’s not enough to fuck up my life without meaning to ten years ago, you have to do it again now.”

“You’re drunk,” Eren says, but he says it like he’s trying to convince himself of something.

“I am,” Levi admits. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not telling you the truth.”

Eren moves; shifting in closer so his body is lying pretty much parallel to Levi’s, lowering himself down onto his elbow to free his hands so he can cup Levi’s face gently between them, stroking his thumbs over the bruising beneath his eyes.

Levi’s breath falters and all he can see above him is green.

“If I were to kiss you,” Eren whispers and the words ghost soft over Levi’s skin, “would you let me?”

God yes, Levi thinks but no words come out of his mouth – it’s like his brain froze somewhere between admitting that he’s never been – never will be – over Eren Jaeger and now this whole situation is no longer in his hands.

Eren pushes his hair out of his eyes and it’s so tender and careful and the way that Eren is looking at him isn’t much better.

“You don’t have to answer me now,” Eren says. “And if you did I wouldn’t hold you to it. Actually, no. Never mind. Forget it. You’re still drunk and I just, I shouldn’t…”

Eren goes to move back and finally something in Levi snaps into life as Eren shifts to his knees and away from him.

He doesn’t think – doesn’t stop to doubt himself or remember – only reaches up to fist his hand in Eren’s hair and yank him back to him.

It’s been ten years since the last time they did this and Levi can feel every single one of them in the way that Eren responds to his kiss – that is to say immediately and with skill and confidence that hadn’t been there before, but the clear enthusiasm with which he whole-heartedly devotes himself to it is exactly the same.

The feel of his lips moving against his own, the soft push as he manoeuvres Levi’s mouth open and deepens the kiss with a careful flick of his tongue – all of it fills something up inside of Levi that hasn’t been whole since Berlin.

Levi’s drunk enough that it could have devolved into sex right then and there, but it’s Eren who pulls away first, pressing one last quick peck to Levi’s lips.

“Where are you going?” Levi demands as Eren moves away from him, making grabbing gestures in his general direction. “Get the fuck back down here.”

Eren smiles and catches one of his hands, bringing it up to his lips and laying a light kiss along his knuckles. “No, if we’re doing this we’re doing it right,” he says, and his voice is so determined that Levi suddenly doesn’t doubt that they can do this. “I don’t think sex while you’re drunk is a good idea right now.”

“Says you,” Levi snorts but he allows Eren to pull him up. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”

Eren laughs and doesn’t let go of his hand as he leads him through the apartment. “Of course you do; and if you still think that when you wake up maybe we’ll give it a shot.”

“When I wake up?” Levi asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Well,” Eren mulls as he pushes open the door to the bedroom. “I did say you could stay at my apartment tonight. I’m even going to be nice and say you don’t have to take the couch.”

“How generous,” Levi says when what he really means is: are we really going to try this after everything that’s happened and Eren squeezes his hand when what he really means is: I’m willing to try if you are.

It’s dark in the room when Eren clicks the door shut and Levi sits down on the edge of the bed and waits.

He doesn’t wait long.

For a gesture that is so traditionally associated with the erotic there’s nothing even remotely sexual about it when Eren slips his fingers under the hem of Levi’s shirt and levers it over his head, folding it neatly at the end of the bed because he remembers how much Levi hates crumpled clothing. Levi reaches up and helps Eren out of his; expertly folding it atop of his own because he knows Eren won’t do it himself.

The covers rustle loudly as they slip under them and – for a moment – Levi can’t bring himself to actually close the little strip of no-man’s land between them because last time he let himself hold Eren everything had gone to shit.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Eren says and it comes out rather quiet in the moon painted silence of the bedroom.

Levi closes his eyes and works to still the panicked thrumming of his heart. The combination of nerves and alcohol is making him dizzy in an uncomfortable way.

“Hey,” Eren says, and Levi feels his fingers on his arms as he slides in close. “You alright?”

No, Levi thinks desperately because he’s a little afraid this is all a dream; that maybe Eren did show up in his life three days ago but the fist to his face sent him into a coma along the way.

It seems like the only rational explanation right now.

“If this whole thing turns out to be because of brain swelling, I swear I’ll hunt you down and murder you myself,” Levi whispers into Eren’s shoulder and feels the way he shakes with laughter against him.

“You say the most romantic things,” Eren snickers, but his fingers comb softly though his hair and Levi can feel him sombre up. “I’m not saying this is going to be easy. I’m not going to pretend that you didn’t hurt me, but I’m starting to realize it was a lot more about hurting each other. We were young and you were stupid,” Levi snorts into his skin and Eren allows himself a brief smile before continuing, “and we both fucked each other up good.  It’s not going to fix itself overnight, but I’m thinking we just might get there in the end.”

Levi sucks in a deep breath and then another and everything smells like warmth and summer and Berlin – like Eren.

He could get used to this, he thinks as Eren’s fingers trace shapeless patterns on his shoulders, the warmth at his side and the skin so close to his – he could get used to it.

.

Levi’s life is a mess for a year and a half before he caves and calls Erwin.

“I fucked up,” he says the second he answers the phone. “I fucked up so bad, Erwin, I really did.”

Erwin doesn’t ask him what he means or where he is or even what he’s been doing since he left a note on the Jaeger’s kitchen table nearly eighteen months ago and vanished without a trace. He doesn’t even pause or go silent or ask why Levi is calling him now of all times; the only thing he says is: “What do you need?”

Erwin gets him on the first flight from Amsterdam to New York and is waiting for him at Kennedy when his plane lands nine hours later.

“You reek,” he says by way of greeting and it’s a mark of how well he knows him that he doesn’t even try to take his bag, only hands him a coffee and turns to walk, expecting Levi to follow him without a word.

He does.

There’s a car outside with Hanji at the wheel and when Levi slides into the backseat looking like a fucking bum she simply grins and asks if he’d settle the debate that 90’s rock will always be better than 80’s, thank you very much Erwin.

Levi doesn’t say a word, just watches as New York whizzes by outside the window and wonders vaguely when he let himself gets so bad that his hands shake hard enough that he can’t even hold his camera.

They pull in at a hotel and Hanji hands the keys over to the valet before sauntering off towards the nearest shopping centre with the intention of probably buying Levi a whole new wardrobe, wiggling her fingers over her shoulder at him as she goes.

Erwin checks him into a sprawling room on the thirteenth floor and doesn’t comment when Levi veers straight for the bathroom upon arrival and shuts the door firmly behind himself.

He looks at the shower – large and gorgeous and spacious – and imagines trying to stand for long enough to get clean, imagines not and collapsing on the tiles so Erwin has to kick down the door and drag his naked, shivering ass to the emergency room.

Levi turns to the tub and tries not to be ashamed of how badly his legs shake as he strips off and slides in, holding heavily to the rim as he goes because the fucking bathtub is nearly as deep as he is tall when he sits down.

Because Levi is someone who has spent the past several months with infrequent access to things like soap and shampoo he stays in the bathroom for over an hour and washes his hair no less than six times until strands of it come away in his soaped up hands and his fingertips start to swell from the constant rubbing.

He goes to get out only to discover that sometime in the last seventy-odd minutes his legs had given up on him and he can do nothing but slosh water everywhere as he staggers to his knees on the ground, sopping wet and cold and trembling.

His vision goes black and he can’t move, only sink to the floor and try to breathe through the way the room spins fast enough around him that he’s almost sick on the expensive marble beneath him.

He hears the door creak behind him but if he opens his eyes to look he’ll be sick.

“You’re a mess,” Erwin says bluntly and Levi laughs so hard he ends up winded.

Erwin waits until Levi’s breathing evens out and his vision comes back in sprays of shuddering colour before he approaches, tossing a towel over his shoulders so that it settles on his damp skin and Levi levers himself upright, pulling the towel around him as he leans against the bath for support.

Erwin’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he bends over to unplug the tub and the sharp rattle of the water draining is unnecessarily loud in Levi’s ears.

“Hanji dropped some clothes off,” Erwin says. “Do you want me to bring them in?”

Levi considers his chances of being able to stand long enough to get on a fucking pair of pants and then considers the alternative of having Erwin dress him like a toddler. His pride is in fucking tatters as it is sitting butt-fuck naked on the floor of a hotel room he hadn’t even paid for and he doesn’t think he could handle the idea of sinking even lower.

He shakes his head. “I’ll just sit here for a second,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. “Catch my breath.”

Erwin eyes him in that completely impassive way he has before sighing and lowering himself to the floor to sit beside him without a word.

The wall across from the tub is completely made up of mirrors and Levi has been making a concentrated effort not to look since he’d realized, but with Erwin sitting quietly beside him and soft shivers racking his shoulders he finds his eyes drawn to it.

He’s pale and skinny and his hair has grown long enough that it licks at his shoulders and his eyes are sallow and rimmed black. Levi hasn’t even made a token attempt at modesty with the towel only hanging loose around his shoulders and his shuddering frame is visibly gaunt.

There are obvious needle marks in the insides of his elbows.

Erwin meets his eyes in the mirror and Levi looks away.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Erwin asks, voice casual like asking after lunch plans. “I’m not going to make you but I can’t help until I know what I’m dealing with.”

Levi closes his eyes and feels his stomach twist again because he doesn’t even know where to begin. He chooses to go for the simplest explanation.

“I fucked the Jaeger's fifteen year old kid,” he says tiredly. “And, if I’m being honest, I probably would have done it again if I’d stuck around.”

It’s silent except for the drip of water.

“Well,” Erwin says after a considerable pause, “if I had been aware you planned on sleeping with their barely-legal son I might not have told them that you’d be the perfect guest to have in their home.”

Levi snorts and the way it almost hurts is pathetic. “I’m fully aware I fucked up.”

“The thing is; I don’t think you are. You made a mistake – but running off all over Europe for eighteen months making a thousand more doesn’t solve anything. What did you think you were accomplishing by disappearing off the map? You can’t unfuck Eren by torturing yourself like this.”

“I’m not torturing myself,” Levi snaps.

“Levi,” Erwin says without missing a beat. “You can’t even hold your camera right now. Forget whatever you’ve been doing in the interim; that alone tells me everything I need to know.”

Levi wants to laugh at him – or maybe at himself – but he’s tired and thin and cold. The best he can do is shrug because Erwin’s right and Levi has been doing a lot of stupid shit since Berlin; diving into the seediest worlds of fashion and photography until he emerged in a completely different world entirely.

It had been a distraction from dreaming about green eyes and gold skin and every time it didn’t work – every time Levi woke hard and panting with the taste of Eren on his lips – the angrier he got.

“I don’t know what to do,” Levi admits suddenly, and runs shaky fingers through his hair. The towel slips off the flex of his shoulders. “You’re right. Fuck. I’m a goddamn mess. I don’t even remember the last time I worked. I don’t remember the last time I took a fucking picture.” He laughs even though he knows it’ll hurt and he’s not wrong. “Look at me; I’m sitting naked on the floor of a bathroom because I don’t trust myself not to fall the moment I stand up. If this isn’t rock bottom I don’t know what is.”

Levi doesn’t really know how to cry – doesn’t remember the last time he did, if ever – so the most he’s capable of doing with his sheer frustration is squeezing his fingers into fists as his shoulders shake.

There’s the sound of expensive shoes on water-slick marble as Erwin gets back to his feet, dusting his hands lightly on his trousers as he stands. “You might not have been aware during your little spree of self-pity, but in the past few months quite a few of your photos have made it into well respected magazines,” Erwin says evenly and Levi frowns, uncertain where he was taking this. “It’s probably just as well you disappeared for no verifiable reason because at least nobody has seen the wreck you’ve become. Your reputation is still intact and your work admired.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Levi asks flatly as Erwin bends to pick up the fallen towel, draping it carefully over Levi’s shoulders again before extending a hand to help him to his feet. Levi stares at it for a moment before taking it and letting Erwin slowly pull him up. His legs ache and the action leaves him annoyingly breathless but he doesn’t fall.

“What I’m trying to say is you can still come back. One of my lead photographers quit just the other week and I’ve not yet looked into hiring a new one.”

“You want me to work for you?” Levi asks skeptically as his fingers slip from Erwin’s.

“If you’d like,” Erwin says neutrally. “I’m not offering you a job just as a friend; I’m offering you a job because of your talent.”

Levi considers it for a moment and then decides why the fuck not. It’s not like he’s got other plans and he thinks he’s probably done with the international circuit for a while.

“I’m homeless and poor and I’m probably going to go through the worst detox in the world in the next few weeks,” he says flatly to Erwin as he raises his fingers to the edge of the towel, pulling it closer around him. “I’m going to be hell to be around for a while until I get back on my feet and if you ever ask me to go anywhere near Berlin I’ll probably quit on the spot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Is that okay with you?”

“Sounds perfect,” Erwin agrees.

Six months later Levi has an apartment with his name on the lease and a job with fucking dental benefits.

People at work call him ‘Sir’ and Levi can’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t a back-alley drug dealer looked at him and saw a ‘Sir’.

Nobody asks what he did while he was on what Erwin has explained as a Hiatus and nobody asks why there isn’t a single photo he’s published from his time in Berlin.

The truth is Levi has a lot of photos from Berlin – of the fashion shows and the magazines that commissioned him – and he’d thought about publishing them once or twice because Hanji seemed to be a firm believer in better late than never, but every time he looks at them he’s reminded of long days shirtless beneath the soft whirl of his fan and the way Eren laughed.

Levi gives the whole lot to Erwin and tells him to do as he pleases; which is evidently nothing, because he never sees them again.

The photos of Eren are a different story entirely.

The first time Levi picks up his camera again and sees them he panics.

He’d never actually looked at them after they were taken and it’s highly possible that it had been the last time he’d used his camera since. He’d all but forgotten their existence so busy pushing anything and everything related to Eren to the back of his mind.

They seem endless as he flicks through and Levi wants nothing more than to delete them all – to never have to be reminded of the way Eren’s face flushed when aroused or how his eyes clouded dark when Levi towered over him.

So he does.

His finger on the delete button is heavy as he mashes it repeatedly and watches Eren’s face vanish in seconds. He hits it again and again – six times endlessly.

The last photo stops him in his tracks.

It’s Eren still but it’s not the seductive sprawl of his body, the smirk on his lips – it’s that one last photo Levi snapped as he walked out the door.

He needs to delete it.

Eren’s gone and they’re done and Levi just needs to let it go.

He’s over it now. He’s moved on.

He prints the picture off ten minutes later and deletes the digital from his camera. He can’t explain to himself why he does it without sounding pathetic – only that of all the photos that came from Berlin; this is the only one that feels beautiful.

The only problem is the moment he has it in his hand, he knows he’s never going to be able to look at it again.

The photo goes in a box at the back of his closet and never comes out.

He knows he’s not moving on – can’t possibly be if he can’t bear not to have a reminder of Berlin – but as he closes the closet door he convinces himself he will.

He’ll get over Eren Jaeger one day and in the meantime he’s willing to wait.

.

 Levi wakes up to soft morning sunlight and green eyes.

“Hey,” Eren smiles as Levi blinks blearily at him.

“What time is it?” He rasps, staring groggily at the way Eren’s hair stood up in all directions like he was actually a dog rather than a goddamn model.

“Just past nine.”

Levi frowns. “We’re late for work.”

“Already called Erwin,” Eren says in reply. He raises his brow and smirks. “Somehow, he didn’t seem all that surprised to hear from me. He says the both of us should take the day off.”

Levi starts and goes to sit up only for Eren to grab his wrist and haul him back down. “You told him?”

“No, no,” Eren assures him as he strokes his fingers soothingly along Levi’s arm in a way that relaxes him embarrassingly fast. “He just seemed to know.”

It does sound like Erwin, Levi has to admit, and while he doesn’t think Erwin is quite devious enough to have plotted this outcome from the start – although he would certainly be capable of it – he thinks that Erwin probably considered it a pleasant bonus.

Reluctantly Levi relaxes back into the mattress and Eren immediately shuffles in closer, tilting Levi’s jaw with two fingers and smiling at him.

“I have gross morning breath,” Levi warns.

Eren laughs. “I really could care less,” he says and leans in to kiss him.

The kiss is lazy and pointless in a way that none of their kisses in the past had been – there is nothing intentional in the way they move their lips; no desired outcome or objective. It’s just Levi’s hands on Eren’s bare shoulders and Eren’s hair tickling his face. When Eren pulls back after a solid minute it takes everything Levi has not to just stare at him blankly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that,” Eren whispers like it’s a secret and something in Levi breaks.

“I love you,” he blurts. “You’re a little shit and you annoy the fucking piss out of me and probably will until the day I die; but fucking hell, I love you.”

Eren’s mouth drops and he stares at him for such a long moment that Levi’s heart trips in his chest and he digs his fingers into Eren’s shoulders to keep from rolling out of bed and running because it’s about time he took a chance on something.

“You’re … you’re not just saying that to shut me up or something, are you?” Eren asks, although his voice is weak and his eyes are wide.

Levi huffs and nudges him in the calf with his toe. “Have I ever done something so stupid?”

And then – slowly, like the sun coming out on a cloudy day – Eren smiles; stupidly happy and a little baffled but mostly like Levi’s just given him a fucking gold ring and asked him if he fancies a trip to the altar.

He doesn’t say anything back and Levi doesn’t need to hear it anyway; Levi has never been a fan of words because it’s all too easy to lie, but Eren has never been a fan of actions because ten years ago Levi taught him they’re easy enough to walk away from.

“We should probably go shower,” Eren says as he tucks his face into the small of Levi’s neck and places a gentle kiss to his throat. “You smell like you’ve been rolling around behind the bar at the world’s most illegal nightclub.”

Levi snorts but threads his fingers through Eren’s hair and tries to act like the honest domesticity of the situation isn’t vaguely frightening. “And by shower do you mean actually shower or something else entirely?”

Eren smirks against his skin. “That depends,” he says, “on your definition of ‘something else entirely’.”

Levi’s not sure on his definition but Eren’s apparently involves pinning Levi to the shower wall by his hips and sucking him off with such ease that Levi is hissing out curses with his fingers in Eren’s hair to avoid coming in under five minutes.

“Fuck,” he swears as Eren does a thing with his tongue that makes him throw his head back hard enough to hurt when it hits the wall.

Eren pulls away. “Too quick?” He asks, and it should sound like he’s teasing but instead it just sounds like he’s genuinely wondering if he needs to slow down or not.

“It’s going to be over very quickly if you keep that up,” he warns and Eren laughs at him but lets Levi tug him back up for a kiss.

Levi’s arms are around Eren’s shoulders as Eren grinds against him with enough force that Levi is all but helplessly pinned to the wall beneath him. It’s been a long time and Eren’s fucking grown and not just goddamn physically either; the way he moves is much more practiced and Levi tries to stamp down on the jealousy that pumps through him at the thought.

“Levi,” Eren groans as he sucks a bruise against his neck, rutting their hips together easily. The water makes their cocks drag against each other with just the right amount of friction and when Eren manages to get a hand between them to jerk them both off Levi rakes his nails hard enough down the length of his spine that Eren nearly shouts.

It’s over pretty quickly after that – Eren squeezes so hard that Levi near goddamn sees stars and everything whites out for one pure, blissful minute as he comes.

When he settles back down to reality his forehead is resting in the crook of Eren’s neck and Eren’s fingers are loose on his hips – the spray of the showerhead is alarmingly cool on his heated skin.

“Wow,” Eren says into his hair and Levi snorts.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t had completely mind-blowing sex that knocks this out of the water,” he mutters and he feels Eren’s fingers tighten on his hips.

“It’s not about the sex you have but who you have it with,” Eren replies and Levi’s heart actually freezes because he may not believe in the value of words, but he’s about a hundred percent sure Eren just told him that this is then, now and forever.

“You’re an idiot,” he says into his shoulder and tries to fight the smile he can feel building. “You’re a fucking dork. I have no clue what I see in you.”

“Well,” Eren ponders and Levi can feel him smirking against his forehead, “someone told me a long time ago that he only takes pictures of things he finds beautiful and I like to think he might have been talking about more than the fact I grew up to become a model.”

Levi closes his eyes shut and grins.

He’s thirty-five years old and standing naked under a shower with the man he’s spent the last ten years thinking was a dead-end. Tomorrow he’s going to have to go into work wearing Eren’s teeth marks on his neck and he’s sure makeup is going to flip when they see the scratches he just left on Eren’s back. Erwin’s going to be unbearably smug about the whole thing and Hanji’s going to be completely insufferable.

Levi finds for the first time in his life he really doesn’t care.

“You know what,” he says as he moves his lips to hover over Eren’s.

“What?” Eren smiles against his mouth.

“I think you might be right,” he says, and pulls him down for a kiss.