Chapter Text
Eren sneered at the drunk slobbering all over the floor of the police car. Disgusting, he thought. The poor sap was facedown, his arms handcuffed behind his back (more of a formality than a necessity) with his behind in the air. Eren felt an urge to kick him over. For men to get so damn blotto when alcohol itself was illegal was just asking to be arrested.
"Oi, rookie, don't abuse the prisoners." Eren's superior peered through the grating from the front seat, seeing Eren with his foot in the air just above the prisoner. Eren sighed and sat back down. They told him to watch the drunkard to make sure he didn't try anything funny, but Eren had a feeling they just wanted him to make sure he didn't vomit all over the cabbie. Eren would kick the bastard if he did because he had a feeling he knew who'd end up cleaning it. As if to spite him, the man came out of his stupor for a moment so he could do just that. Eren drove his foot into the man's side.
Someday, he'd personally do the same to the bastards behind the illegal production of alcohol.
"Woah, look out! It's Boston's finest!" Jean sneered at Eren as he lead the vomit-stained whelp to a cell in the back.
"Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Jean. It's not like you arrested anyone today."
Jean shrugged and pointed downward. "Maybe not but at least I didn't let scum retch on my shoes."
"I what?!" Eren looked down and groaned. In the dark of the cabbie he hadn't noticed that the man had managed to get it on his shoes too. A rag hit Eren in the face.
"Here. Let me take him to his cell."
Eren pulled the rag from his face to see Mikasa, his star officer of an adopted sister and the first woman in the Boston Force. She pushed him aside lightly and took hold of the bent. Jean watched her go by.
"Mm-mm. Ain't she a choice bit of calico, yessir!" Jean stared after her. Eren hit Jean with the rag.
"Mind your grubby eyes, piker. That's my sister you're talking about."
"Yeah, Jaeger? Go clean your boots." Jean gave him a light shove.
"Why I oughtta clean 'em on your face!" Eren got in Jean's face, his hand balling into a fist around the rag.
"Guys, guys. Cool it, cool it."
Two hands separated the men and Eren straightened his button-up sportscoat, still stiff from disuse. The owner of the hands crossed his arms across his own matching sportscoat, uncommonly long blonde hair hanging just above the shoulders.
"Yeah, yeah, Armin." Jean rolled his eyes and marched off.
"Honestly, you two. You fought all through Academy and even now you two always get all frazzed about nothing." Armin took the rag from Eren's fist and started on his shoes. "Take a load off, wouldya? Let's get Mikasa and go find a night joint."
"Aw, Armin you know what a heeler I am." Eren rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling the heat of his anger for Jean. But the blonde insisted.
"But you always have such a grand time anyway! Just go for the music." Armin smiled up at Eren but his suggestion was met by a pair of rolling eyes. Armin stood to meet Eren's unconvinced gaze. "Aw, c'mon. Dud up and hit the town! We need to relax anyway."
Eren watched Armin as he left, trailing behind him sluggishly. He knew Mikasa would find them one way or another, so she was the least of his worries. But relaxing? Sure, he was off the punchcard, but the bootleggers sure weren't. Armin spent most of his day filing paperwork, not chasing streetbums and criminals. He couldn't look at a man and see his malintent, couldn't smell the coffin varnish on his breath from across the room. Eren looked at men to see their sins, and then felt uneasy until they had answered to them. Sure, he himself wasn't perfect, but he'd sworn to never touch a drop of liquor and he'd certainly never dream of buying a woman. Still, others in a city like Boston, relaxing was just out of the question.
And yet somehow Eren found himself dressed to the nines, sulking in the back of The Hotsy-Totsy, chewing a cigar and watching skirts twirl about the dance floor. Mikasa tried to stay with him but she was frequently asked to dance and, having proved herself quite the dancer, stayed out on the floor for long hours. Armin too stayed out of sight, chatting up fellas where the music was loudest.
Sighing, Eren stood and smoothed his hair back into place. The gel was plenty enough to keep it slicked back, but the habit stood. He was glad for it, rather than the blocky hat he'd worn all day with his police uniform. He strode outside, still holding the cigar in his teeth. When he'd found a place quiet enough, he lit it.
He was halfway through it, absent-mindedly tapping the ashes off with a finger when a particularly large man stumbled into the light from the alleyway behind the Hotsy-Totsy. He tripped over himself and fell to his knees, panting.
Great. Another bent-up sap. Eren thought, chewing on his cigar again. He debated on whether or not to call it in. Just because he wasn't on duty didn't mean someone else couldn't put the goof in the can where he belonged. He peeled himself off the wall, resolving to let it slide when another, much smaller man strode into the clearing.
"Was I unclear, harp? I says to you 'don't you lose this dog or you're out' didn't I? I says 'you cost me even a bit of jack and you're gonna take a hike for a long while,' didn't I? Well, didn't I?!" The small man had a grey pinstriped jacket suspended over his shoulder in his left hand, his right balled into a fist with the sleeve rolled up. As he strode forward, the man on the ground crawled away.
"I'm sorry, boss! I'm sorry! It won't happen again! I promise! I swears to you!" The man had flopped onto his rump, his hands in front of his face to protect himself. Eren noticed he was already bleeding from his nose.
The smaller man caught up to the scrambling wreck and slammed him into the ground with a foot. Eren flinched and reached for a baton that wasn't there.
"B-boss there's a kid over there." The man whimpered and the smaller one turned to meet Eren with a pair of cold, narrow eyes. His black hair was swept to his right, the sides shaved close to his head. Even from the distance he was, Eren felt suddenly uneasy under the other man's gaze.
"Oi. Scram." The man straightened up, turning his back to his victim and flapping the jacket at him. He continued towards Eren as the bleeding man limped off. Eren swallowed heavily as the thug approached him, his saddle oxfords bragging about their price with every step. When he was within an arms-length he stopped and started up at Eren's fidgeting form, grinning when he flinched as he finally spoke.
"Heyo, brat, you gots a hope chest with ya?"
Eren nodded silently and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He didn't bother opening it for the man to take one; he just handed him the whole pack. The hood took the pack with delicate fingers and selected a single cigarette, returning the rest to Eren. He produced a pack of matches from the pocket of his pants, the pinstriped counterpart to his jacket, and lit the cigarette in a single smooth motion, discarding the extinguished match as he did so.
The two stood in silence, smoke clouding up around them. Eren had given up on the rest of his cigar. Despite how expensive it was, he was too nervous to finish it and it burnt to a crisp between his lips.
"Now, chap, you didn't see anything, ya hear?" The boss blew a line of smoke into Eren's face from his thin, pale lips. "Because I need to scuff up my Oxs some more tonight and I ain't talkin' dancin', capice?"
"I didn't see a thing." Eren managed, offering the thin man another cigarette as he crushed the butte of the first under his foot. The man obliged, lighting it in the same way.
"There's a good fella. Knows what's good for him. Don't you go around snoopin' anymores, got it? Business is business, and Rivaille's a busy-ness man." The man smirked at his own pun and started walking away, waving the cigarette around as he bid Eren farewell.
"Stay smart, kid. And keep those ciggys handy so's in case we meet again."
Eren pulled a cigarette out of the pack and struck a match, shaking so much that he dropped it before he could light the end. He'd just had a smoke break with some sort of crime boss, and he'd sworn not to tell anyone about it. More than that, he'd never been so scared in his life.
Some policeman I am, he thought, staring down at the extinguished match at his feet.