Chapter Text
Levi
I kneel down silently, my eyes steady as they lock behind my weapon. A familiar wave rushes up my spine and certain tingling dances inside of my fingertips as they rest against the trigger. He was right there; sitting like a clueless fucking buffoon next to a few of his goons. Nile Dok was a vile, ugly, and foul piece of shit. He was known for his illegal tradings through the black market and notorious for human trafficking. He's had more men and women killed than I can count, and as I squint and begin compressing against the trigger, I silently wave my hand.
I sign wordlessly, gaining the attention of my partner, Petra Ral.
We're in one of the more decrepit parts of Trost, and it's noticeable with the strong scent of mold and sickness. Although I know the area well enough, it's hardly a place I tend to visit. They're preparing for the next shipments of unregistered firearms and explosive, most of them being sent out from an abandoned warehouse. For months, my agency has been after this prick. But each time we get close... even just a fucking inch, his trial is clear and he's back to dealing in his illegal activities like it's a hobby in sports or gambling. He's made millions off of his tirade, and when the government isn't able to take apart a well known criminal by legal means...
Well... that's why we're hired.
The Scouting Agency is meant for just that, to get rid of the messes that the government didn't want to dirty their hands with. Our crimes go unnoticed so long as we're the ones with blood on our hands. That sits just fine with me because there is no greater satisfaction other than getting rid of the filth in this world. We have several agencies around the world, and my place just happens to be here in this rundown metropolis.
"Target in sight, hold your positions," Petra whispers into the small device inside of her blouse. She turns to me and nods, signaling it's safe to move. I inch a little closer, and my heart is hammering with the familiar surge of adrenaline rushing through my veins and into my mind. Above me, I know several of my men are on standby and ready to strike just as eagerly as I am. We've all been impatiently waiting to get this job done, especially with our boss riding our asses.
Slowly, I begin pressing down. As I prepare myself for the sound of the gun to echo inside of the dull and dirty warehouse, another sound catches my attention. It's a gun alright, judging from the tone of it, a sniper. I blink my pale eyes in confusion, and then my entire body begins vibrating in alarm. Pain erupts from beneath my boot and straight up my leg. It's practically racing to my chest and I turn sharply to glance down. Once I do, my eyes widen.
Fuck. Double fucking FUCK.
Petra gasps and quickly darts to me, noticing the blood already beginning to pool around my foot. I shake my head and turn my face upward, attempting to see where the shot came from. My men are stationed above, so unless they were all compromised...
It felt like several minutes, but in actuality, it was mere seconds before the sounds of gunfire began ricocheting through the entire warehouse. I mutter an explicit and attempt to get to my feet, only to fall right back onto the ground with a wince. Son of a fucking bitch, of all the fucking times to get shot -- and in the fucking ankle!
"Petra," I say out loud, sliding down to continue sheltering behind a few crates. I close my eyes and hiss when I notice wood splinter from the wood of them as the firing continues. "Call them back. This was a fucking set up -- they knew we'd be here. Get Erwin on and have Oluo have the car ready --"
"We need to get that looked at," Petra says as she begins moving into action. She's a pistol, that woman. Always prepared for anything despite the circumstances. It's incredibly rare for any of our targets to have one up on us like this... but Nile Dok has been a special case for months. "We need to get you to a hospital --"
"We both know that can't happen," I argue back, letting out an involuntary gasp as someone besides me begins to lift me from the ground. I see several of my team offering a distraction while Oluo Bozado helps me to my feet. "Get Erwin on and ask him what to do. I'm sure I can survive, it's not too bad."
"You're losing a lot of blood, so I'm going to have to ignore that in favor of getting you the help you need, sir."
I growl but nod my head anyway. "Whatever, just get us the fuck out of here."
I can feel Nile's smug face from where I am, and I can't wait for the fucking day I get to shot a hole straight through it. I heard several of his men filing out of the warehouse and racing to escape before the police arrive. Even if we're used for our services, we're very much considered criminals in the eyes of the law. So when all hell breaks loss, we're forced into action as well. Oluo and Petra work together to get my limping form out of the building and into the dark town car, slipping me inside first before jumping in themselves.
"I've got Erwin on," Mike Zacharias says from the front seat, handing me the cell phone quickly. I grunt and bring it to my ear.
"It all went to shit," I growl out, already preparing for his chastising. "I don't know what the hell happened. One minute, he's sitting and eating a fucking sandwich and the next I'm getting shot from above in the ankle."
"It's good you pulled out when you did," Erwin Smith comments, calm and collective as ever. "Any more injuries would have resulted to us losing Nile's trial for good. How bad is your wound?"
I gingerly move my foot and almost cry out at the pain it sent through my entire body. "Hurts like a bitch, but Petra's insisting it's worse than it actually is."
"Then I agree you need to be seen. Petra wouldn't say so otherwise. Was everyone able to retreat without being seen?"
"We scattered," I say, my mind beginning to swim a little from the blood loss. Petra wasn't joking, and I squirm to get comfortable against the leather seats. "Where am I going, Smith?"
"We'll get you to Yeager's practice. It's not too far from where you are now."
"I thought he quit the business?" Grisha Yeager was well known for his practice in medicine. More specifically, his practice in medicine while dealing with bouts of illegal and unreported incidents and accidents. He merely took his pay and did what he was sought out to do; repair the broken and strengthen the weak. For several months, however, Grisha has become somewhat of a ghost. While accidents like this do happen, it's not very often. I'm one of the lucky few, I guess.
"It's being run by his son, and I'll go ahead and forward the funds to have you seen. I can tell just from speaking to you that the injury is already causing some damage."
I scoff, but mindlessly agree while handing Oluo the phone to add any bit of information I may have forgotten. I lean my head against the headrest behind me and close my eyes. Fuck, what a disaster. Always my fucking luck.
We drive for nearly thirty minutes, Mike taking several backroads to ensure we are not followed. We arrive at a broken down city block where shady sellers linger with shit-eating grins and gaudy women lean their bodies just so as they attempt to catch any persons attention for a few extra dollars. My stomach turns as I watch it, being thrown right back into the past. I push those thoughts back and keep them exactly where they belong, in the back of my memories.
The building is unnamed, and the structure is barely holding together, and a grimace at its appearance — what a shithole. Petra helps me remove my holster and weapons, even if I feel a bit unwilling to do so. She reminds me that even though Grisha Yeager has known their organization for years, his son may be a different story. Grisha was trustworthy into this line of work, but I didn't know jack shit about his son.
My body is starting to feel slightly weak, and I nearly punch Oluo when he grabs my arm and drapes it around his shoulders. "Sorry, boss, but it's either this or you're crawling to the door."
I scowl but know he's right. We get to the front entrance, and Petra buzzes us in. After several seconds, I gaze upward and notice a camera right above the door. Makes sense, I suppose. The door finally sounds open, and we're moving down a long corridor.
"We'll drop you off for right now," Petra begins. "I'll have Mike come back when you're done here. I don't know how long this guy'll keep you, or how serious the bullet wound is. Just keep your phone on you."
I barely absorb her words as my visions beginning to fade in and out. Fuck, what the hell? I've had plenty of bullet grazes, and I've even been stabbed a few times. I've never felt the amount of mind-numbing weakness and exhaustion as I did now. With my wavering vision, Petra and Oluo are able to lead me inside of a standoff office that's at the end of the dimly lit hallway. Once we enter, my eyes widen in surprise. Given the nature of the building outside and the disgusting filth lining the edges of the corridor outside, the office was sterile even to my standards and clean beyond words. What the actual hell?
There's a young woman sitting at the front desk, her skin as pale as mine with jet black hair hanging above her shoulders. Her face is glancing at the computer screen in front of her, and her steel eyes rise to meet us at the doorway. "You're the ones that Smith called in?" she asks, her voice dull and void of any emotion. I can't tell whether she's annoyed or if that's just the way her face is set. She types in a few things into the keyboard. "Dr. Yeager is with another patient at the moment, but I'll lead you to a room so you can set him down and be on your way."
I can't figure out if I like this woman or not. She means business, and I can appreciate that. Money wasn't an issue seeing as though Erwin went ahead and sent it in. So with another groan of protest, Petra and Oluo help me to one of the back rooms. The office is set up like any other; a receptionist, pictures of scenic beaches and medical graphs, and all of that bullshit. She leads us to a vacant examining room where there is a nice, uncomfortable steel table just begging to be laid in. The pain is finally beginning to get to me, and it's starting to show in my features because Petra reaches and runs a kind hand through my sweaty hair.
"It'll be alright. If he's Grisha's son, I'm sure he's just as good. Call us when you're ready, okay?"
She's too damn sweet to be in this line of work, what the hell was she doing here again? Dammit, my head is killing me. I lay against the cold steel, and when I'm left alone, I attempt to move my foot a bit just to test how severe the damage is. I moan when I realize it's starting to hurt worse than before, and the blood must have trailed behind us in the hallway because I can see it oozing right out of my combat boot. Fuck my life. This shouldn't have happened. I had a clear shot of the prick and somehow, his group one and upped us. I'm not the type to be a sore loser, but running after this man for months and months on end without results is starting to piss me off beyond reason.
I must have been musing for a while because my eyes are blinking open when I hear the door open. I turn my head and wince as my temples begin to pound. As I do, my breath catches in my throat, and my heart starts doing an obscene dance inside my chest. The tall figure that enters isn't what I was expecting at all. He's lean, and even through his sweater, I can see wiry muscle peeking through the outlines of his clothes. His shoulders are broad, and his chest is full, yet he's proportioned in just the right areas. His back is to me as he closes the door behind him while locking it, and I get a nice view of his backside through his slacks. Shit, it was a nice ass. Dammit, was the fucking blood loss turning me into a leering moron?
His hair is a caramel brown, and he has it pulled back with a hair tie. I don't think I've ever seen a man pull off a fucking bun that way this guy does, but holy shit, he definitely does. His skin is a golden tan and I want to sink my teeth right into him. When he finally turns around, and I see his face, honest to God, I forget how to breathe. High cheekbones, delicate lips, and eyes that I can't figure out for the life of me if they are green or blue or both. He is stunning. He couldn't have been any older than twenty-five. This fucking ankle was messing with my head.
"Sorry for making you wait! I had to remove a pairing knife from someone's... well, ass, I guess," he begins sheepishly, smiling and revealing pearly white teeth. Oh, my heart. There is goes right out the goddamn window. I make a face and tilt my head. "Oh, it happens, trust me. Let's see here..." He flips through a few papers and I realize that Petra must have taken the time to fill them out because I sure as hell didn't. "I don't have a name on here, which is understandable. Says you took a bullet to the ankle..." he's speaking slowly and to himself, and I watch as he begins to process of sterilizing his hands and reaching for the gloves across the sink. The room doesn't have much; a sink, a few medical supplies, and a large fluorescent light blinding me from above.
As he slaps the gloves on, he says, "Let's take a look." He moves toward me and my unsteady eyes drink him in like a dying man parched for water. Fuck, he's even prettier up close -- all strong edges and lines, yet soft and subtle features. His eyes lashes are long, and his ears are pierced. I lick my lips and suddenly cry out when he reaches to touch my booted foot. "Oh... Oh wow, Mikasa should have gotten me sooner. Or at least given you something to make you more comfortable."
He's moving with a bit more urgency now, and he's reaching for a bag and IV from one of the cabinets above the sink. He works efficiently to hook it up to one of the stands beside the examining table and brings my arm up. He traces my forearm and says, "You have good veins. This'll sting a bit," as the words leave his lips, I feel the prick of the catheter enter my vein, and the young doctor links it to the bag containing a clear liquid. "There..." he says and flicks the IV a few times. "This should help with the pain while I work. I'm going to need to remove your boot, though, okay?"
I grunt in response and lift my agonizing leg to help him out. The boot comes off with a little more ease this time, and I hear the young doctor wince. "You had a clean entry. The bullet went right through. It... with this much blood loss, it may have hit a vein. I'll have Mikasa run a CT scan on your ankle once I at least stop the bleeding and we can administer some pain medicine."
I nod wordlessly, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. His voice was... soothing on my grating nerves, and it made me feel like I was floating. Or was that the morphine? Probably the morphine.
"It's the morphine," the young man says, and I blink in confusion. "You're uh... kind of mumbling to yourself."
"Shit." The first words to leave my mouth, how delightful. It must have been funny or something because the young doctor just grins while lifting my ankle closer for his viewing. "Sorry... this stuff is strong. What's your name?" I blurt, no rhyme or reason for my shitty etiquette what so ever.
"Well, I go by Dr. Yeager. But if you're asking for my real name --" as he says this, he's pressing something cool and hard against the bullet hole, and I gasp sharply while he gives me a sympathetic look. "It's Eren."
"Eren," I repeat, liking the way his name sounds when it slips off my tongue. "My name's Levi."
Eren hums, smiling softly to himself. I may have been bleeding like a son of a bitch and doped up beyond belief, but I didn't miss that smile. "Levi. I like it. So, Levi, can I ask what caused you to get shot through the ankle today?"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," I said dully, the sarcasm dripping from my voice. He gives me a charming little smirk, and dammit, it was doing things to my chest. "Hm... I guess I can't just say it was an accident, huh?"
Eren held up his bloody hands in nonchalance. "In all actuality, it doesn't matter to me. As long as you pay in cash, we don't ask questions. But... I guess I'm curious once in a while, you know?"
"I bet." I'd be curious, too. Can't blame the kid one bit. A pairing knife being stuck in someone's ass? I would have loved to have seen that. "So, did your father come up with that little motto?"
Eren stiffens slightly but doesn't deter from his work on my ankle. He's reaching for what appears to be a small needle, and I barely feel it against my skin. "Yeah, this entire place was his idea. He wanted to help people who were in trouble and couldn't go to the authorities. You see good people in bad circumstances getting turned away for help. I mean... Looking at you, I don't think you're a bad person. You seem pretty nice actually."
I snort. "Kid, you don't know anything about me. I'd hardly say I'm a nice person." I kill people for a living — shitty people — but still people.
"Decent person, then. Anyway, we wanted to place where people could turn to if they had the means to do so. Sometimes, my father would even take people in who didn't have the money. A woman who was married to a gang leader was sent away from Trost Hospital when she was in labor just last year. It was all over the news. So... my dad helped her deliver a healthy baby boy. They're doing well now, despite her situation. She was able to lie and say she delivered on her own, but my dad made sure he guided her through it all."
Wow, no kidding? Grisha Yeager earns a little bit more of my respect.
"So, where is your old man? He and my boss go back a ways."
Eren's lips form a thin line, and he places his bloody tolls on the table next to him. "He's been missing for a few weeks now. We've been keeping quiet about it to avoid any trouble. We're not sure where he is. That's why I've been taking care of things here... I don't have the knowledge my father has, but I know enough to help as many people as I can."
I frown a bit at those words. Grisha Yeager missing? Huh. That was news to me. "I'm sorry," I tell him sincerely.
Eren waves his bloodstained hand. "It's fine. I'm sure he'll turn up, and everything will be all right. Worrying will get me nowhere fast."
Optimistic little thing, isn't he?
Seconds tick by and Eren pulls back after some time while wiping his brow with his forearm. "I've managed to stop the bleeding. I'd still like a CT done to make sure we didn't miss anything. You're lucky you got here when you did, you honestly were close to losing consciousness."
I nod mutely.
"I'm going to have to take your pants off," Eren comments idly as he examines my ankle once more, his head tilting in delicate concentration.
"You should at least buy me a drink first, no?" I ask, my lips etching with a small smirk as his face turns all sorts of reds and pinks. Even with my unfocused eyes, there was no mistaking that blush. Shit, did I say that out loud?
Eren glances up and stares me right in the eyes. Fuck, this morphine is making say some absurd shit, isn't it? Yeah, I'll go ahead and blame that. It's easier than telling this man how insanely attractive he is or that fact his eyes glitter like their gems from the damn ocean. His face is still flush, but his lips curve slightly.
"Easy there, Casanova. I think a drink is the last thing you need right now. How about when you're not high from painkillers and you're able to walk without falling over?"
Wait, that wasn't a no, was it? I lean up onto my elbows, and Eren chuckles and says, "I don't want you moving around yet. I'll have Mikasa wheel you over to the radiology area and we'll get those pictures done."
Mikasa comes in not long after and I crane my head to watch Eren pull his gloves off and wash his hands. It's nearing eight o'clock at night, and I'm not sure how long this practice stays open for. It's hardly a standard business so who the hell knows. The indifferent woman helps move me into the machine, and it whirls to life. She instructs me to close my eyes, and she takes a few pictures of my head first, and then she adjusts the table and begins from my leg and down to my foot. It doesn't take very long, and I'm grateful it's over quickly. This medical shit always makes me uncomfortable, despite my profession.
My head is spinning, but at least the pain is beginning to subside somewhat. That, and my heart just won't stop doing its strange little dance inside my chest. I can't figure out if the brat was humoring me because I'm injured or if he was being sincere. A part of me needs to know, dammit. After the images are collected, I'm back in the room I started it again and I slip my bloody trousers back on. Eren comes back in not too long after and begins to process of removing the IV from my arm while placing a few prescription bottles on the table next to me.
"I'm going to send you home with painkillers, obviously. Eight hundred milligrams of Ibuprofen too if you're not privy on the Oxycodone. Your scans came back clear, which is great. It means you'll heal easily. You're very fortunate, not everyone gets away with being shot and getting a clean break from it. You may want to find crutches or a cane if you're worried about wounding your pride."
I snort at that. Little shit.
"It'll take you at least a month or so before you start feeling somewhat better again. You might feel alright right now, but once that morphine wears off, you'll be hurting again."
I take the prescriptions and examine them, sitting up and cracking my neck from how awkwardly I was laying down. "Right... I think I can manage without the heavy shit. The last thing I want is to be doped up all the time. But..." I glance up at this handsome face. "Thank you, Eren. I couldn't do with going to a normal hospital."
"Oh, I get it. Police getting involved and all that jazz. You don't have to explain it to me. Believe me, I've seen so much worse."
This intrigues me, and I can't help but find his company... well... pleasant. "What made you want to do this? Follow in your father's footsteps, I mean?"
Rubbing the back of his neck, Eren replies, "I guess I just enjoy helping people. I was already studying for my degree, and my father worked too hard to keep this practice going. It took a lot of effort and dedication on his part. I wanted to help him with it. Plus," he gives me a knowing look, and his eyes a whirling with mischief. "I get to meet people like you."
He winks at me.
He fucking winks at me.
My jaw almost drops.
"Well, Levi," he starts. "It was nice meeting you, and I hope you recover well. I think you're my last for the night and I'm exhausted --"
"Go out with me," I blurt out, and this time I couldn't blame the morphine. Hell, he's all but flirting with me. We both seem to be equally terrible at it but it's a start.
"Ah..." he looks flustered, and it's adorable. Fuck, what is the kid doing to me? "I'm not usually one to mix up work with pleasure, you know? Too messy. But you never know, maybe I'll see you around sometime?"
He finishes dressing my ankle, washes his hands a third time, and glances over his shoulder. "Take care, Levi."
I watch him leave and my eyes narrow in confusion. Did that just really happen? Did all of this actually happen?
I groan and run a hand down my tired face. I use my other to phone Mike to let him know I'm ready to be picked up. All I want to do is brief Erwin on what the hell happened and get home and into my own bed. Perhaps drink a fifth of vodka if I'm able, although, it's probably not smart after I was just shot up with morphine.
Holy hell, what a fucking day. I go to bed that night dreaming of ocean eyes.