Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You ready for tomorrow, kid?” Hannes asked as he wiped down the countertop in front of him, his weathered hands moving with the ease of someone who had spent decades behind the bar. 

“I don’t know,” Eren Jaeger admitted. He shook his head and let out a deep sigh, his gaze drifting to the sudsy foam of the beer in his glass.

Hannes paused briefly from his cleaning to look across the bar at his nephew. “What do you mean you don’t know?” 

Eren looked up at Hannes and elaborated, “I just… in a way I’ve been ready for this all my life. But it’s so surreal that the big day is finally here. I just don’t feel ready.”

“What are you so anxious about?” Hannes put down his rag, throwing it onto the oak countertop with a soft plop. “Eren, you have to have faith in yourself, you will be fine. You are ready.” 

“No, I know that Hannes. It’s just you know…” Eren trailed off as he sipped on his beer. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to deal with the pressure.” 

“Of being a surgeon? Of your first day on the job? Or…?” 

“Both, everything, all,” Eren cut Hannes off. “I mean, I’m just coming to terms that everything has… well, everything has become real. I’ve studied for years to become a doctor and now I am one. Things are no longer just a paragraph in a medical textbook, or a case study based on an actual patient profile - I’m about to be responsible for people’s lives. That shit’s scary, Hannes.”

The older man nodded, his expression a mixture of concern and encouragement. “You’ll be fine, Eren. It’s normal to feel this way. Even the best doctors were once nervous interns.”

“I’m sure some of the best doctors were nervous interns,” Eren said, “But it doesn’t help that the best doctor was not one… Guess we all can’t be Dr. Perfect like him.”

Hannes chuckled, determining it might be best to drop the sensitive topic for Eren. “Sounds like you need to let off some steam tonight. Don’t want to blow up and unleash your frustrations tomorrow. Otherwise, you won’t be Dr. Perfect, and they’ll be calling you Suicidal Bastard again like they did in middle school.” 

Eren grimaced at the reminder. He wasn’t nicked named “Suicidal Bastard” for no reason; the nickname was an apt reminder of his fiery temper, and the fact that his brazen emotions often landed him in precarious situations. Maybe Hannes was right - it would be best to get his emotions in check tonight, before he accidentally hurt a patient or raged at his future attending on his first day. “I mean, I guess I could use a distraction. But I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’re a bright kid, the real star of the show. Start by talking to other people here - I know you thrive off of social interaction,” Hannes gestured around the bar. “Look at these folks. They’ve got stories to share, and sometimes it helps to listen more than talk.”

“I guess,” Eren replied, casting his gaze around the dimly lit room. The crowd was that of a more mature scene - familiar faces of regulars, friends, and townspeople which Eren had grown up seeing. An older couple was playing cards in a corner booth, another group of adults were lounging about near the pool tables playing a casual game, and a few groups of young college students were scattered about the tables engaging in casual conversation. Everyone seemed to be occupied in their own activities, as the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional smack of the pool stick against the balls. 

Turning back his attention to Hannes, who was now drying off some freshly cleaned glassware with a new rag, Eren said, “I mean… I see a lot of familiar faces, but everyone seems so absorbed in their own lives. I just don’t want to bother them with my problems.”

Hannes saw through Eren’s hesitation. The explanation seemed valid, but surely there had to be a lone wolf hanging out at the bar? There always was, and Hannes could vaguely remember seeing some fresh faces frequenting the bar recently. He scanned the expanse of the room briefly for the man, before taking note of a certain individual. Bingo. 

“See that guy over there?” Hannes nodded toward the far end of the bar, in the opposite corner of the room where a singular man, nursing a glass of whiskey, sat. “I think he’s new to town. I’ve seen him probably once or twice in the last couple of weeks. Why don’t you go over there and introduce yourself?”

Eren followed his uncle's gaze to the small figure sitting alone at the small table. The man looked to be in his early thirties, with jet black hair styled into an undercut and a shadow of a frown etched on his pale, tired face. He looked somewhat out of place, as if he were a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. It didn’t help that his aura screamed ‘Don’t fucking talk to me, leave me alone’. 

“But what if he’s not in the mood to chat?”

“Then you buy him another drink. Hell, I’ll get it for you on the house.” 

Eren shot Hannes a nervous look. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to this particular handsome man.

“Just go talk to him!” Hannes encouraged. “I’ve never known you to be this shy, Eren. You’re normally the one trying to talk to everyone.” 

“He looks like he’s going to murder someone though,” Eren muttered under his breath. “It feels like he’s in the mafia and cuts people open for a living.”

“Well, technically, isn’t that what you’re getting paid to be doing starting tomorrow?” Hannes snorted as he laughed at Eren’s comment.

“That’s different though Hannes,” Eren replied, “That man just looks… intimidating. I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s totally hot and everything, but his energy…it’s - it’s just…”. 

“Eren, stop making excuses,” Hannes cut in, “Just talk to him. Maybe you’d get along. Maybe he’s just a guy who got off on the wrong foot here and hasn’t felt properly welcomed. Or maybe he’s having trouble making friends and is just looking for a genuine conversation. I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you just talk to him? He ignores you? He tells you to leave him alone?” 

“Honestly, he might,” Eren mumbled, shaking his head.

Hannes crossed his arms, a knowing smile still on his face. “Still, Eren, you’ll never know until you try. Just go over there, say hi, introduce yourself, and then offer to buy him a drink. It’s easy.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is. Now go on, before I introduce you to him and I promise that will be ten times more embarrassing.”

“I guess you’re right,” Eren shifted around on his stool with a reluctant sigh.

“Of course I’m right,” Hannes retorted, “I’ve lived a whole life of experiences since before you were born.” A twinkle of mischief flashed in Hannes’ eyes before he continued to speak, “Besides, you never know where a conversation might lead.”

“Fine, old man,” Eren responded. “But if you’re wrong, I’m holding this one against you.” 

Hannes laughed in response. Eren could have sworn that Hannes mumbled something under his breath about being right, but Eren shrugged it off, trying to muster up the courage. Taking a deep breath, Eren pushed himself off the barstool and smoothed down his shirt, trying to make himself look more presentable. As he made his way to the newcomer, his heart raced slightly, drowning out the murmur of the bar. He felt the familiar rush of nerves - but Hannes’ words echoed in his mind, spurring him on.

His gaze landed on the figure, who was hunched over his drink. The man’s dark hair partially obscured a pair of metallic brooding eyes. The man had an air of quiet intensity about him, his sharp jawline and deep-set eyes betraying a mixture of contemplation and curiosity. He was reserved, yet something about him drew Eren in. After a moment’s hesitation, Eren caught his eye and offered a friendly smile. Making his way over to the man’s table, Eren set his drink down on the table, shocking the man out of his reverie. 

“Hey there, I’m Eren,” he began, “Mind if I take a seat?” 

The man looked up from his drink and raised an eyebrow, studying Eren for a moment. As he scanned Eren, with his sharp silver eyes, Eren couldn’t help but feel like he was either under attack or under watchful examination. It was an uncomfortable few seconds, and Eren felt as if he were almost making a fool out of himself by putting himself out there. Just as Eren was about to leave the table and go back to Hannes, the man motioned down to the chair across from him and he simply said, “Levi - have a seat.” 

Eren quickly accepted the invitation, sliding onto the seat next to the stranger. “So uhhh, you new to this city?”

Levi looked at Eren, surprise flickering in his deep-set eyes. He snorted softly, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. “Been here for about two months. Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” Eren replied, tilting his head. “But your energy doesn’t match the energy of Sina. You’re very… dark and serious, almost like a thunderstorm of some kind.”

Levi arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “Sina is literally known for gloom and rain. How else would I not fit in?”

Eren chuckled, intrigued. “Touché. But it’s like you’re trying to out-gloom the gloom.” 

Levi took a sip from his glass, contemplating the observation. “Maybe I am,” he said, a mysterious glint sparking in his eyes. “I prefer the rain. It suits me.”

“It does.” 

A charged silence fell between them, the air thick with the tension of something unspoken. Eren’s heart raced as he caught Levi’s gaze. There was a fire beneath the surface, a flicker of mischief that made Eren’s pulse quicken. 

“So um… care to share what brought you to our little corner of the earth?” Eren asked, leaning in slightly, intrigued by the layers beneath Levi’s somber facade.

“I came for a fresh start,” Levi replied, his voice low but steady. “Thought I’d leave my past behind. Instead, I’m just... here.” 

“Ah, the classic escape.” Eren's smile softened and he nodded empathetically. “I get it. Sometimes a change of scenery is all we need.”

For the first time, a hint of a genuine smile tugged at the man’s lips. “What about you? Do you live here?”

“Born and raised,” Eren said, a newfound confidence surging through him. “This place has its ups and downs, but I love it. There are so many good people around, and Hannes” - he gestured back toward the bar - “he’s like family to me. Well, I mean he is my family, but you get the point.”

“I can see that,” the man said, his demeanor shifting to a more relaxed state. “He seems wise.”

“He is but he’s such an old man,” Eren rolled his eyes as he feigned annoyance. The man chuckled slightly at his dramatics. “Anyways, since Hannes was right about you being new to town, and I guess you haven’t had a proper welcome, why don’t I buy you a drink?” Eren replied, his confidence starting to build. 

Levi chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with interest. “Well, that’s a nice offer. I could use another drink. It’s been a long week.” 

Eren gestured to the shelves lined with bottles. “So, what’ll it be? Another whiskey, or a classic cocktail, craft beer, something stronger?”

Levi’s gaze drifted across the array of choices. “How about something adventurous? Surprise me.”

“Adventurous, huh? I like it.” Eren grinned, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. He turned to the shelves, considering his options. “Okay, how about I make you my signature drink? It’s a mix of rum, with a splash of cranberry juice and a twist of lime. It’s got a kick, but it’s smooth. Trust me, I know you’ll like it if you can take whiskey neat.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You can make drinks? You look like you just stepped out of high school.” 

Eren flashed Levi a wide smile, “I’ll take that as a compliment, I’m actually twenty-five.” 

“No kidding, huh?” Levi replied back, his eyes refocusing on Eren’s features. 

“Yeah, I might look young, but I’ve been around this bar long enough to learn a thing or two,” Eren replied with a chuckle. “The moment I turned thirteen, I begged Hannes to let me come make drinks with him. Now follow me to the bar and let me get you started on that drink.” 

With that, Eren stood up from the seat and made his way behind the bar. Levi trailed behind him and took a seat at the opposite side of the counter, watching Eren as he mixed the liquids together. He moved with a practiced ease, mixing ingredients and the shaking cocktail with a finesse that came from years of experience. Eren felt at home in this space and with Levi as his audience, he felt like he was putting on a personal show. As Eren reached for the bottle of rum, he glanced over his shoulder to see Levi watching him, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Guess that practice from your youth paid off. Do you come here often then to mix drinks?” Levi asked as he watched intently, leaning against the bar as Eren poured some more cranberry juice into a shaker.

“Just when I can,” Eren replied, mixing the ingredients with practiced ease. “Most of the time, I’m busy with my own stuff - trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. Life also… it, well - it just… gets in the way, you know? I don’t get the chance as much as I’d like.”

Levi nodded, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “I get that. My job is pretty stressful and time-consuming too. Ever since I moved to the city, I haven't really had the chance to meet new people. It can get pretty lonely, honestly.”

Eren nodded in sympathy at Levi’s response. As he finished shaking the liquid, he poured Levi’s drink into a chilled glass and placed a lime wedge as a garnish on top. Glancing over at Levi, Eren slid the finished drink across the polished surface to Levi, who took it in his hands, inspecting the colorful beverage. “Here you go. I hope you like it.” 

“Wow, this looks amazing,” Levi said, his eyes lighting up. “Are you going to pour one yourself?” 

With a grin, Eren turned to grab a lowball glass and a bottom-shelf bottle of vodka from the counter. He measured out a generous pour, then filled the glass with ice. Levi’s eyes followed his every movement, the anticipation palpable.

“Just a vodka on the rocks for me,” Eren said, shrugging playfully as he added a twist of lemon. “Simple, but effective.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “That’s a strong drink,” he observed, taking a sip of his own vibrant creation, the sweetness of the cranberry juice mingling with a hint of spice from the rum. “Are you sure you want that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Eren admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his tone. He leaned against the counter, the weight of his honesty grounding him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he added, “I could use some liquid courage tonight - to help with… everything. You know, new beginnings and all that shit, I guess.”

Levi nodded, his expression softening. “New beginnings, huh? Thought you grew up in this city - unless you mean like starting fresh in life?”

“Something like that,” Eren replied, taking a sip of his vodka on the rocks, the coolness of the drink settling him a little. “It’s a little nerve-wracking, but it feels necessary.”

“It does,” Levi said, “But change is good. I guess we’re both going through new beginnings then.” He raised his glass slightly, a soft smile on his lips. “Let’s cheers to that. Hopefully, it all goes well.”

Eren met his gaze, feeling a warm rush of connection as their glasses clinked together. “Cheers to new beginnings,” he echoed, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

They raised their glasses, their drinks glimmering in the light, and clinked them together, the sound echoing like a promise. They took a sip, and Eren was surprised at how refreshing the moment felt. It wasn’t just the drinks; it was the shared understanding and support in Levi’s eyes that made his heart swell with hope. Banter flowed like the drinks they were sharing, each remark charged with a playful energy. The initial wall between them dissolved, and what began as light teasing morphed into something more intimate. 

Eren leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, it’s rare to meet someone who just… gets it. I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

Levi’s gaze snapped up, his expression serious for a moment. “Really? I’m surprised. I mean, I’m not the easiest person to get to know.”

“Not at all,” Eren disagreed, shaking his head. “If anything, the opposite.”

Levi shot Eren a thin smile, and Eren felt a warmth spread through him. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I’m usually... stoic, reserved. Making friends is hard for me.” He paused, searching for the right words. “But with you, it feels different. I don’t know why.”

“Really?” Eren’s eyes widened in surprise. “I would’ve never guessed.”

“I don’t usually open up like this. Maybe it’s all the alcohol talking,” Levi chuckled, though he felt a flicker of truth in Eren’s words. It was unusual for him to feel so comfortable so quickly. “They do say that alcohol is like nature’s truth serum.”

“Maybe,” Eren said, his tone playful, “but I’d like to think it’s something more than that.” He paused, cautiously adding, “I’ve got to be honest, I think you’re really attractive. I’m actually excited that we met tonight.”

Levi’s cheeks flushed, surprise flickering across his features as a surprising warmth creeping into his usually composed demeanor. “You think so?

“Yes,” Eren reassured him, feeling a rush of warmth creep up his neck. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

They exchanged a lingering look, a silent understanding passing between them that hinted at the uncharted territory they were both willing to explore. The atmosphere around them felt charged, as if the world outside faded away.

A hesitant grin spread across Levi’s face, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I’m glad we met then. You’re not too bad yourself, Eren.”

Before Eren could respond, a waitress glided by, her voice cutting through the intimate atmosphere. “Last call, folks! Can I get you two anything else?”

The reality of the moment washed over Eren like a cold splash of water as the waitress broke them out of their reverie. Eren looked at Levi, the heat of their conversation simmering in the air between them. Levi glanced back at Eren, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his expression. “Just the check, please,” he said, his tone betraying a flicker of awkwardness.

As the waitress walked away, the weight of the moment settled between them. The rhythm of their earlier conversation had faltered, replaced by a palpable silence and tension that hung in the air. Eren felt a rush of disappointment, a fear that this moment might slip away before he had a chance to seize it. He stared down at his drink, wishing he had said something before the moment slipped away. Just as he gathered the courage to speak, the waitress returned with the bill.

“Here you go, gentlemen,” she said cheerily, placing the tab on the table. “Have a great rest of your nights.”

“Thanks, you too,” Levi responded as he reached for the check. 

At the same time, Eren immediately reached for his wallet. “I’ll pay for our drinks”. 

“No, no - let me take care of it, “Levi insisted, his voice firm. “I enjoyed the time and company.”

Eren hesitated. “You really don’t have to do that - it’s my uncle’s bar, it’s on me.”

Levi chuckled softly, his grey eyes sparkling. “Trust me, it’s my pleasure.” Levi fished out a couple of bills from his wallet and placed them in the leather envelope - by the looks of it, it was more than enough to cover their tabs and there was plenty enough for a tip. Generous man, Eren noted. 

After closing the checkbook, Levi turned his attention back to Eren. Gazing attentively, he stated, “Besides, I don’t get the opportunity to talk to someone so handsome often.” 

Eren felt his cheeks flush at the compliment, and he fidgeted slightly in his seat, the awkwardness of their previous conversation creeping back in. “So, uh—”

“Well, the night is still young, maybe we should keep this excitement going,” Eren suggested, his voice playful yet sincere. The glimmer in his eyes was unmistakable; he wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet. “What do you say we don’t let this night end here?”

Levi felt a rush of heat rise to his cheeks at the suggestion, his heart pounding in a wild rhythm. “You mean… go somewhere else?”

Eren’s smile was playful yet sincere. “Exactly. We can find a place that’s a bit more… private.”

Levi hesitated for a moment, glancing at his half-empty glass and then back at Eren. “Where to? It’s late, but…”

“I have a place nearby. It’s not too far,” Eren replied, his stomach a mix of nerves and excitement. “I mean, if you’re interested that is.” 

Levi’s pulse quickened at the implication. He knew what Eren was suggesting, and every part of him yearned to agree. The prospect lit a spark in Levi’s eyes, and he felt a rush of spontaneity. “Alright. Let’s do it,” he said, the corners of his lips curving up.

Chapter Text

The sun peeked through the thin curtains of Eren's bedroom, casting warm rays across the disheveled bed. Eren stirred, blinking away the remnants of a restless night. He could feel a dull throbbing in his head, a reminder of the many drinks which he had indulged in at Hannes’ bar the night before. He could also feel a dull throbbing in his ass. He shifted slightly, and the familiar sensation from the night before sparked a flash of memory that both excited and embarrassed him.

With a groan, Eren rolled onto his side, facing the familiar yet unfamiliar stranger. He squinted at the figure next to him, cocooned in the bedspread like a burrito. The blanket was ruffled and tousled, revealing a bare shoulder and a hint of pale skin, pebbled with blue marks. Was his name Leon? Liam? Louis? I know it started with an L , Eren wondered, trying to place the handsome face that danced in his memory. He wasn’t good at remembering names, but he knew that their fleeting encounter was probably anything but, especially with the undeniable chemistry that had led them to this moment. The man in his bed, handsome and charming, had certainly left an impression - just not the kind Eren had expected to wake up to.

The heat of Levi’s body next to his was still palpable, and for a moment, Eren reveled in the warmth of the shared intimacy. A smile tugged at his lips, but it quickly faltered as he glanced at the clock on the opposite side of the bed on the nightstand nearest to Levi.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, shooting upright in bed. Panic washed over him as he glanced at the clock. 7:13 AM. He needed to be at the hospital at 8:30 A.M. for his first shift. If he didn’t get a move on, he’d be late to his first day and that’d make a terrible first impression. The hospital was a good fifteen minutes away and Eren needed at least another thirty minutes to make himself presentable and ready for the long day ahead. Better yet, he needed a spare fifteen minutes to grab some coffee as well to prepare himself for the grueling 24-hour shift. 

Eren ripped the sheets off the bed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, willing himself to focus. He needed to get dressed and out of here - stat. As he stood, he caught sight of the stranger again. Eren took a moment to admire him - the defined jawline, the way his lips curled even in sleep, the tattoos peeking out from under the blanket. The figure stirred slightly, revealing a strong jawline and tousled hair that fell across a brow. 

“Shit,” Eren muttered, burying his face in his hands. He never expected to wake up next to a stranger, let alone one on what was probably one of the most important days of his life. He shifted again, testing the waters of discomfort, and it only seemed to amplify the throbbing pain. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the awkwardness of the morning after. He needed to wake the stranger beside him, and maybe they could piece together the fragmented memories of the night before. How could I have forgotten something as important as a name?

“Ahem,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Hey, uh…” he stammered, trying to recall the name of the handsome man who had shared his bed. The stranger shifted slightly but didn’t wake. Eren hesitated, then decided to nudge him gently. “Hey. Wake up.”

No response. Levi merely shifted slightly, a sleepy mumble escaping his lips. With no other choice, he sat up and grabbed Levi's clothes which were strewn all over his bedroom floor, tossing them onto the bed with urgency. The shirt landed with a soft thud, the pants followed suit, and he made a decision about the boxers - those landed right on Levi's face.

“Come on! You’ve got to get up,” Eren urged while hastily wrapping himself with a clean towel. He felt embarrassed, his cheeks flushing as he looked toward the door. Levi stirred, groggy and confused, pulling the boxers off his face.

“Hey, man, uh… you need to wake up,” Eren said sharply, shaking his shoulder.

Levi stirred, blinking up at him, still caught in the haze of sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to leave. Now,” Eren replied, his tone firmer than he intended.

“What? Why?” Levi’s brow furrowed, a hint of confusion mingling with sleepiness.

“I’m late! I need to shower!” Eren exclaimed, waving his hands as if to usher Levi out. 

​​Levi ripped his eyes as he sat up, the sheets falling away to reveal a tangle of limbs and the remnants of their night together. “What’s the rush, Eren?” he mumbled. 

Eren’s cheeks flushed as he realized Levi had remembered his name. “Right. Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t expect to wake up to… well, this.” He gestured between them, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Eren felt a surge of embarrassment wash over him. “I’m sorry… This is… humiliating on so many levels. But you have to go.” 

“Why don't you just come back down here, and we'll pick up where we left off?”

Eren was starting to get frustrated. Things weren’t supposed to get this complicated last night. “No, seriously. You have to go now, I'm late. Which isn't what you want to be on your first day of work, so…”

“First day?” Levi’s brow furrowed as he pushed himself up, finally registering the urgency in Eren's voice. He glanced at the scattered clothes and then back at Eren, his expression shifting from sleepiness to understanding.

“I have to get ready for my first day at work, and you’re… well, you’re here.” The words hung awkwardly in the air.

“Right, yeah. First day,” Levi mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “I should probably… uh… yeah.” He started to gather his clothes, a mix of bashfulness and confusion in his demeanor.

“Can you... do you think you could, um, get dressed?… And um, well... you can exit through the stairs,” he said hastily, avoiding eye contact, trying to maintain his composure and convey a sense of urgency.

“Sure,” Levi said quietly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. There was an awkward silence, the air thick with unfulfilled expectations and the weight of their brief encounter. As Levi began to dress, Eren stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him. The sound of running water filled the small space, drowning out the thoughts that tumbled chaotically in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of regret that simmered beneath the surface. He didn’t know if he’d made the right choice, if pushing Levi away had been a mistake.

As he was waiting for the water to warm up, Eren slipped back into his bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers, his scrubs, and a clean towel. Eren found Levi standing by the door staring at him, a mix of admiration, hesitation, and uncertainty on his face. “You’re really something, you know that?” Levi said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Thanks, I guess,” Eren muttered, not quite meeting his gaze. “But I really can’t do this, at least not right now.”

“Do what?” Levi asked, a hint of confusion creeping in.

“You know... the thing,” Eren replied, as he busied himself at the sink, brushing his teeth to avoid the intensity of the moment.

Levi raised an eyebrow. “The thing? Oh. We can do anything you want,” he said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, not that thing,” Eren rinsed his mouth and sighed deeply, torn between his responsibility and the spark of chemistry they had shared. “The other thing. Like, exchanging details, pretending we care about each other. I mean, I liked getting to know you and it was fun, but it’s my first day, and I should probably focus on that. I mean, we just met. You know?”

The grin on Levi’s face faded, replaced by a more contemplative expression. “I get it, but I just thought… I thought we had something after last night…”

Eren turned to face him, his expression softening. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t deal with this right now. I’m really going to run late and I don’t want to make a horrible first impression at work so I’m gonna go and take my shower, okay? And when I come back out here, you won’t be here. So, um, goodbye... um...”

“Levi,” he offered gently, as if unsurprised by Eren forgetting his name.

“Right, Levi” he replied, a slight smile returning to his lips, a flicker of warmth amidst the cool detachment. “Goodbye, Levi.”

“Nice meeting you, Eren. Take care.”

“Yeah, you too,” Eren replied, but the words felt hollow. As Eren disappeared in the bathroom and closed the door behind him, Levi lingered for a moment longer, the air heavy with unsaid words. He pulled on the rest of his clothes with a mixture of reluctance and acceptance, knowing this was the way of things sometimes - people meeting at a point in time for just a moment, before continuing on their separate paths.

Eren looked at his watch as he stepped into the bustling atrium of Wall Sina Hospital. 8:27 A.M - perfect, he had three minutes to spare. The sound of nurses hustling to and from filled the room, the soft beeping of machines in the background, and the distant chatter of patients and families created a familiar symphony that made him feel like he belonged. He spotted a group of fellow interns congregating in a corner by a conference room, their anxious expressions mirroring his own.

He introduced himself, offering a tentative smile. He shook hands with a few of them: Annie Leonhart was a no-nonsense woman with sharp eyes, Reiner Braun seemed to be easy going with an air of practiced confidence, and Armin Arlert was a quiet soul who appeared equally overwhelmed and excited for the day ahead.

“First day nerves?” Armin asked, his tone a mix of camaraderie and anxiety.

“Yeah, something like that,” Eren replied, his thoughts still flickering back to last night. “I’m more worried about making it through today without spilling coffee on my scrubs.”

“I get that,” another surgical intern said, “Stayed up all last night worried about tonight.” 

Just then, the double doors to the conference room opened, and a bald, mustached man strode in with an air of authority. He motioned them into the room and then shut the doors. Eren sat in the back, hands clasped tightly together as if to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest. He had dreamed of this day for years, and yet, the reality felt like stepping into a coliseum, ready to face not just the unknown, but the very real, palpable pressure of the medical world. 

Inside the room, it was a stark contrast to the lively and clamorous lobby outside the doors - the room fell silent as the hospital administrator, Dr. Dot Pixis, surveyed the interns, a steely glint in his eyes. Eren’s heart thudded in his chest.

Pixis stood at the front, tall and imposing, with sharp features and an intensity that seemed to command the room. He had a reputation that preceded him, known for his surgical skill but also for his fair demeanor. As he spoke, his voice echoed through the hall, each word resonating with a mixture of inspiration and intimidation.

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game.” His eyes swept across the faces of the new interns, the flickering hopes and quiet fears etched on each one. “A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors.”

Eren swallowed hard. His words echoed in Eren’s mind, reminding him of the long nights of studying, the sacrifices he had made to reach this moment. Today marked the end of years of grueling study and the beginning of a real, unforgiving journey. He could feel the weight of his ambition pressing down on him, a mixture of excitement and dread.

“The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point.” The room held its breath. Eren exchanged nervous glances with his peers, each one a stranger yet somehow familiar in their shared anxiety.

“Look around you. Say hello to your competition.” Pixis gestured grandly. The interns shifted, some offering stiff smiles while others looked down, clearly grappling with the gravity of their new roles. “There are approximately twenty of you in the 104th Intern Class here at Wall Sina. Of the twenty, eight of you will switch to an easier specialty within the next three years. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave.” Pixis’ voice turned colder, each sentence slicing through the air. “You can do the math right? That means on average, only five of you will survive and make it past.”

A chill raced down Eren’s spine. He felt the weight of the head doctor’s gaze like a spotlight, illuminating the stakes of the journey ahead. This wasn’t just a job; it was a battleground. He had to prove himself, not only to the attending surgeons but to the others in the room who would be vying for the same coveted positions. 

“I will not sugar coat the difficulties that lie ahead. But this is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? Now, that’s up to you.” Pixis stepped down, leaving behind an electric silence. Eren’s heart raced; the stakes were real. This was no longer a game of theory and textbooks. Here, every decision mattered, every mistake could cost lives, and every moment would be a test of his resolve. As the orientation continued, Eren found himself lost in the intensity of the experience. Pixis went on to outline the challenges that lay ahead, the hours they would spend in the operating room, the emotional toll of losing patients, and the need for unwavering resilience. Each word hit Eren with the force of a reminder that there would be no handholding here. I'm screwed , Eren realized as the orientation approached its close. 

A whirlwind of emotions ran through Eren as Pixis delivered his final, stark ultimatum, “You have fifteen minutes to gather your thoughts and stuff and decide whether this life is for you. If not, leave. If so, check your assignments on the whiteboard and meet up with your resident in your assigned location.”

Eren's heart raced. A part of him wanted to flee the overwhelming pressure of the surgical world-the blood, the scalpel, the decisions that could mean life or death. But deep down, Eren knew that he could not escape the life of a surgeon. It was a sunk cost tied to a burden of familial expectations - he had worked too hard for years to let fear derail him now and he had expectations of a legacy to uphold. 

With a deep breath, Eren turned to the whiteboard that loomed like a scoreboard of fate. The lists were scribbled in hurried, precise handwriting. As he scanned through the names, he finally spotted his own: Intern: Eren Jaeger// Resident: Dr. Ackerman // Surgical Ward Entrance.

His stomach knotted at the thought. Doctor Ackerman was legendary, a titan of the surgical world known for their rigid discipline and unmatched skills with the surgical knife - aptly nicknamed the Slayer. They were said to have a presence that could freeze fire, a reputation that instilled both fear and admiration among interns and residents alike. 

Beside him, Armin, with his bowl-cut blond hair and nervous smile, peered at the board. “I’m with Dr. Ackerman too,” Armin said, his voice a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

“Great,” Eren replied, forcing a smile. “We’re in this together then.” 

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air as the group of surgical interns stepped out of the orientation room, a mix of apprehension and excitement weaving through their conversations. Eren was nervous, his palms clammy as he walked alongside Armin and the other fellow interns to their assigned location.

“Which resident are you assigned to?” Armin asked the others, attempting to cut through the tension that swirled around them as they walked toward the surgical ward entrance. 

“I got Ackerman,” the blondish-brown haired guy replied, his tone a mix of dread and admiration.

“The Slayer? Yeah, me too,” Annie chimed in, adjusting the sleeves of her scrubs.

“You got the Slayer too?” Eren echoed, his eyes wide. “So did I! At least we’ll be tortured together, right?”

“I’m Jean Kristen, by the way. We met at Hannes’ a few nights back… you were wearing that oversized black ACDC shirt with ripped jeans,” Jean said, an awkward grin spreading across his face. Eren exchanged quick glances between Annie and Armin, trying to gauge how to respond.

“Now you think I’m creepy,” Jean muttered, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice.

Eren waved him off as he took a few steps ahead. “Uh-huh.”

“No, I’m not creepy,” Jean protested, catching up with them. “It’s just that you were, I mean, you were very… unforgettable.” His cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words, feeling both bold and foolish at the same time. “And… apparently I’m totally forgettable.”

Before Eren could respond, the doors to the surgery ward swung open, and another wave of cool, sterile air washed over them. Eren’s heart raced as he stepped into the surgical ward. The room was bustling with activity, nurses darting in and out, surgeons in blue scrubs huddled over charts, and the distinct sound of beeping monitors filled the air. 

Just then, a passing doctor called out, “Kirstein, Arlert, Jaeger, Leonhart.”

“Great, we’re in trouble,” Jean mumbled under his breath. 

Armin glanced toward the doctor, adjusting his glasses nervously. “Ackerman?” he asked, hopeful to find a friendly face.

“End of the hall,” the doctor replied curtly, not breaking stride.

“That's the Slayer?” Armin muttered, his eyes wide as he took in her presence. 

Dr. Ackerman was a striking figure, a woman in either her late twenties or early thirties, with sharp features and dark hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. Her green scrubs fit her like a second skin, and her piercing gaze seemed to absorb everything around her. She stood at the center of the bustling room, surrounded. Yet, she had an aura of intensity that was palpable, a presence that commanded respect without needing to raise her voice, making her the center of attention.

Jean chuckled, disbelief in his voice. “I thought the Slayer would be a guy.”

“I thought the Slayer would be… older,” Eren muttered, shaking his head as they continued down the hall. He was still trying to reconcile the formidable reputation with the young woman before him.

Armin, ever the optimistic one, shrugged. “Maybe it’s professional jealousy. Maybe she’s brilliant, and they call her Slayer because they’re jealous. Maybe she’s nice.” The last word hung in the air, almost a challenge to fate.

Annie shook her head and rolled her eyes at Armin’s defense. “As if. She looks like she wants to smack every one of the doctors around her for their incompetence. She has a resting bitch face but like on steroids.” 

“Do you think she’ll be as terrifying as everyone says?” Jean asked, glancing toward the end of the hallway where the Slayer stood.

“Probably worse,” Eren quipped, trying to lighten the mood but failing slightly. “I’ve heard stories of her dissecting interns’ mistakes like they were cadavers.” They all chuckled, though Eren’s laughter was tinged with unease. The stories were legendary; tales of Dr. Ackerman's fierce critiques that sent many interns scurrying, some even to other departments. Yet, Eren couldn’t shake the feeling that her intensity was rooted in her pursuit of excellence.

As the seconds ticked by, they prepared to meet their resident. They stood at the entrance of the surgical ward, a sleek steel door that felt more like a barrier than a passage. “What do you think she’ll be like?” Armin mused aloud, fiddling with the hem of his scrubs.

“I don’t know,” Eren replied. “Maybe she’ll be a total hard-ass, or maybe… she’ll surprise us.”

With a clipboard in one hand and an unfazed expression on her face, Mikasa looked up as they approached. Her dark, piercing eyes settled on them, and for a moment, the world around them faded. She didn't offer a greeting or even a handshake.

“Interns,” she called, her voice steady and authoritative, cutting through the noise like a scalpel through flesh. “You’re late.”

“We just arrived -” Jean started, but the intensity of her gaze silenced him.

“Time is critical in the surgical ward. We don’t have time for excuses. Welcome to your first day. You will shadow me today, observing procedures and assisting where necessary. I expect you to keep up and to be proactive.” She pivoted on her heel, striding toward the surgical room with the grace of a predator. 

Turning back and seeing none of the interns moving with her, she parroted, “Keep up!” 

The interns shuffled quickly behind her, chasing after Mikasa as if she were a mother duck and they were her ducklings. Eren exchanged a worried glance with Armin, who looked equally overwhelmed. “This is going to be tough,” Armin whispered.

“Yeah, but we can’t back down now,” Eren replied, forcing resolve into his voice. They followed Dr. Ackerman into the surgical suite, the threshold of steel leading them into a world where every decision mattered.

“Now listen up, interns!” Mikasa called, her voice firm yet fair. “You will call me Dr. Mikasa or Mikasa. No exceptions. There’s another Dr. Ackerman in the hospital. As he is an attending, he commands more respect than I do. I don’t want any confusion. Understood?”

Eren could see the determination in her gaze, the fire of ambition that burned brightly within her. The other interns nodded, but Eren felt a pang of sympathy for her. He understood what it was like to share a name with someone whose accomplishments or rank tended to overshadow them. 

“I have five rules. Memorize them,” she began, her voice steady and unwavering. “Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already have low expectations of you. That’s not gonna change.”

The interns exchanged glances, a flicker of uncertainty sparking in their eyes. Mikasa pointed toward a nearby bench cluttered with papers and phone lists. “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you. You answer every page at a run. A run- that’s rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours. You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain. You run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don’t complain!”

Mikasa's voice was sharp and commanding, each word a declaration of war against complacency. The interns were forced to march in step behind her as she led them through the surgical floor.

“On-call rooms,” she continued, marching them down a corridor that smelled of antiseptic and urgency. “Attendings hog them. Sleep when you can, where you can. Which brings me to rule number three: If I’m sleeping, don’t wake me unless your patient is actually dying. Cappiche?”

Jean raised a hand hesitantly. “You said five rules. That was only four.”

Mikasa’s pager beeped, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. She glared at him with an intensity that made him wish he could shrink into the floor. “Rule number five. When I move, you move.” And with that, she was off, sprinting down the corridor like a soldier charged into battle, the interns scrambling after her.

“Get out of my way!” she yelled at a few doctors blocking the hallway, her voice fierce and unwavering. Eren couldn’t help but admire her as they ran. Mikasa was a force of nature-determined, focused, and fearless. He had imagined The Slayer as someone who would be rough around the edges, but she was something more.

What’ve we got?” Mikasa called out as she stepped forward.

“Petra Ral, seventeen-year-old female, new onset seizures, started grand mal seizing as we descended,” came the urgent reply from the paramedic, his voice laced with urgency.

Mikasa nodded, her mind already racing through the protocols. “All right, get her on her side, Jean, ten milligrams Diazepam. No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large bore I.V. don’t let the blood hemolyze, let’s go!”

Jean, still finding his footing, fumbled with the equipment, but his nervousness faded as he administered the injection. Almost immediately, Petra’s body went slack, the violent tremors stilled, and the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

A new figure strode in, confidence radiating from him. Erwin Smith, the attending cardiothoracic surgeon, flashed a knowing smile. “So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Smith,” Mikasa replied, her tone professional but tinged with the relief of shared responsibility.

“Got it, Mikasa,” he acknowledged with a nod, “I’m gonna shotgun her.”

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed slightly as she explained to the clueless interns who looked confused at the terminology. “That means every test in the book - CT, CBC, chem seven, a tox screen. Leonhart, you’re on CT. Arlert, patient workups. Jaeger, get Petra here some basic labs run, she’s your responsibility now.”

Jean raised his hand, an expression of confusion on his face. “Wait, what about me?”

Mikasa shot him a look that was both sharp and humorous. “You - honey, you get to do rectal exams in the clinic.”

A crestfallen Jean slumped slightly, muttering, “Why can’t I help out on this case? I’m plenty qualified.”

Mikasa caught his mumbled complaint and shot back, “If you think you’re the shit, you have to first work with shit. Then you’ll see yourself for what you are.” Her voice was firm and stern, but a glint of humor betrayed her emotions.

As the interns prepped Petra for the CT scan, Mikasa took a moment to assess the patient’s condition. Petra looked fragile, her once vibrant features now pale and drawn. The seizures had taken a toll on her, both physically and emotionally. Mikasa felt a pang of empathy, recognizing the fear that lingered behind the closed eyelids of the unconscious woman.

“Let’s move,” Mikasa directed, her voice cutting through the anxiety that enveloped the team. They wheeled Petra toward the CT room, a sterile space with the buzzing hum of machines.

“Dr. Smith, how’s she looking?” Mikasa asked as Erwin entered the room, reviewing the scans.

Erwin ran a hand through his blonde hair, his expression serious. “We’ll know more once we analyze these, but we need to consider the possibility of an underlying condition. We can’t rule out anything just yet.”

Mikasa nodded, her heart racing. “Let’s get the results back ASAP. We can’t waste time.”

As they finished up in the CT room, the monitors began to beep erratically. Mikasa’s instincts kicked in. “Get her back to the bay! We need to stabilize her!”

The team sprang into action, like a well-oiled machine operating under pressure. They wheeled Petra back to the main room where the hustle and bustle continued unabated. Nurses hustled, doctors shouted orders, and the energy was palpable.

“Kirstein, get the crash cart,” Mikasa ordered, her voice steady as she began assessing Petra’s vital signs. She could feel the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, and it both exhilarated and terrified her.

“On it!” Jean responded, racing out of the room.

“Petra, stay with us,” Mikasa urged, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You’re safe. We’re here.”

Petra’s eyes fluttered open, confusion etched on her face. “Wha- what happened?”

“Just relax, we’re taking care of you,” Mikasa assured her, hoping her calmness would transfer to the patient. “You just had some seizures, but you're stable for now.”

“Seizures…” Petra murmured, her voice a weak whisper. “What happened?” 

“Paramedics told us that your coach called us after witnessing you losing consciousness and falling off of your horse,” Mikasa replied. “Does that sound familiar to you?” 

Petra blinked, recalling the sensation of falling and seeing black. “I guess so… but how does that relate to the seizures?”

Mikasa noticed the tremor in Petra’s voice, adopting a consoling tone. “Your coach found you convulsing on the ground, and decided it was best to get you to a hospital in case it was something serious.”

“Did the fall cause the seizures then?” 

“We can’t be sure until we run some tests. The neurosurgeon will examine your scans to get you a conclusive diagnosis.”

“So you don’t know what’s wrong with me then?” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Mikasa said simply. She made no point of promising - promises in the medical world tended to be empty handed. “Now just breathe. You’re in good hands.” 

Turning her attention back to the interns, Mikasa directed, “Leonhart, get the atropine ready, and prep for intubation. Kirstein, stay on her vitals. Jaeger, keep the IV fluids running. Arlert, I need you to assist with the neuro consult. Let’s move!”

The team snapped back into action, the rhythm of their movements harmonizing with the pulse of the monitors. Mikasa felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins, fueling her as she focused on Petra, who began to seize again.

As the minutes passed, Petra’s condition began to stabilize. Slowly, her breathing became more regular, and her eyes flickered open again, this time with clarity. Mikasa leaned closer, a small smile breaking through her professional demeanor.

“You’re doing great, Petra. We’re right here with you,” she reassured.

As the medical team assessed her condition, Mikasa exchanged glances with her colleagues. Dr. Smith was puzzled, his brow furrowing as he reviewed the data from Petra’s tests. “The EEG didn’t show anything definitive. No structural anomalies, no signs of epilepsy… Just sporadic electrical discharges.”

Just then, Eren re-entered the room, his lab coat slightly wrinkled. 

“What are you doing back here so quickly?” Mikasa asked, trying to keep her tone light despite the weight of the situation.

“Um, Petra’s labs came out clear,” Eren said, glancing at Petra and then back at Mikasa, her eyes wide with concern. “There’s nothing in the results that explains her seizures. I just thought you’d wanna know.”

“Clear?” Petra echoed, her heart racing. “But why did I seize then? I can’t stay here! I have a competition in three days.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, urgency seeping into her tone.

Mikasa’s gaze softened. “Petra, we understand this is difficult for you, but we need to figure out what caused those seizures before we can even think about releasing you. Your health is our priority.”

Petra’s frustration flared. “I’m fine now! I feel fine!” she protested, her voice stronger. “I can’t miss this competition. I’ve worked my whole life for it!”

Mikasa sighed, “Petra, we’re doing everything we can. We just need to be sure you’re safe. You can’t leave until we’ve properly discharged you.”

Petra shook her head slowly, as if trying to dismiss the notion. “I need to get back to my horse. My competition- “

“Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?” Mikasa interrupted gently, hoping to quell the rising anxiety in Petra’s voice.

“You said I’m clear! I promise I’ll take it easy; I won’t even ride!” she implored, eyes shining with an earnestness that tugged at Mikasa’s heart. “Just let me go!”

“We know you’re passionate about your sport, Petra,” Mikasa began, pulling a chair closer. “But if you were to have another seizure - “

Petra cut her off, frustration bubbling over. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve faced setbacks before! I can’t let this stop me!”

Mikasa’s eyes softened. “It’s not about stopping you; it’s about protecting you. We want you to compete, but we need to be sure you’re safe to do it.”

“But when can I go home?” she asked for the fourth time that morning, her voice bright with a mixture of hope and desperation.

“When we discharge you,” Mikasa replied with growing frustration.

“Can’t you just give me something to manage the seizures? I’ll sign a waiver, anything!” she exclaimed, her gaze sharp and pleading.

“Um, we really can’t. If we don’t know what’s causing them, we can’t just treat symptoms,” Eren cut in. Mikasa shot him a quick glance, warning Eren that he had spoken out of turn. 

“Dr. Jaeger is correct, Petra. We cannot discharge you as we have medical reasons to keep you here.”

Petra’s expression wavered between defiance and fear, her lips pressed into a thin line. “This is a hostage situation! I don’t care about the symptoms! I care about competing!”

“Why do you want to compete so badly?” Mikasa’s tone took on a sympathetic tinge.

Petra’s expression softened as she shared her truth. “It’s not just a competition for me. It’s my passion, my dream. Riding gives me freedom, a chance to be part of something bigger than myself. When I’m on that horse, I feel alive. It’s my purpose.”

Mikasa nodded, the gravity of Petra’s words settling in her heart. “I understand,” she said gently. “But life is a lot bigger than just that one moment. You deserve to feel alive and safe.”

“Do you think I could go home tomorrow? Or the day after that?” Petra pleaded again, her voice laced with sincerity.

“We’ll review your case tomorrow,” Mikasa replied. “But it will depend on how you’re feeling and whether we can rule out any serious conditions. If there are no other complications, you’re free to go. But until then, we will monitor you.”

“I understand, but-”

“We understand how important this is to you,” Eren interjected, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “But you need to give your body time to recover.”

The rest of the morning morphed into a blur, with Petra asking the same question over and over: “When can I leave?” The staff began to anticipate her inquiries, exchanging glances as she would look up with those hopeful eyes, only to have them dim when the answer remained the same.

Eren found himself trying to balance his duty as a doctor with his growing frustration at her constant cacophony of questions. “Petra, if you keep asking us this, it’s going to drive us crazy.”

Petra offered a weak smile, but her heart was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t help it. I need to be out there. It’s where I belong.”

“I get it,” Eren replied, his tone softening. “But you need to be patient. Just think about how great it will feel when you finally get back on that horse. We’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Petra turned to face Eren, who was continuing to run a litany of tests on her. “Do you think I’ll be okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eren leaned against the bed, his eyes serious as he addressed Petra, “I think you will be. It’s just going to take some time to figure everything out. The brain is complex.”

Petra looked down at her hands, tracing the faint lines of her palm. “But what if I never ride again?”

Eren shook his head, a determined glint in his eye. “You’re strong, Petra. You’ve overcome challenges before. I believe you’ll be back in the saddle before you know it.”

The sound of the door opening interrupted their conversation. Mikasa stepped in, her expression more serious than usual. “Petra, we need to discuss your test results. There’s something we need to consider.”

Petra’s heart raced as they gathered around her bed. “What is it?”

Mikasa took a deep breath. “We’ve been looking at the data from your additional tests, and while everything came back normal, there is nothing we see right now that could be wrong with you.”

Petra’s expression shifted from confusion to frustration in an instant. “What do you mean there’s nothing? There has to be a reason! I can’t just be having seizures for no reason! I need to compete! I can’t be stuck in this hospital.”

“Not until we’re sure you’re healthy and stable,” Mikasa confirmed gently. “We’ll get you there, but it might take some time, days, maybe even weeks.”

The weight of Mikasa’s words sank into Petra’s chest. “You mean… I can’t compete?”

Mikasa exchanged a glance with Eren, feeling the tension in the air grow. “Petra, we understand how important this competition is for you, but your health comes first. If you need brain surgery today, there is no way you’ll even recover enough for weeks, much less months. Until then, you can’t compete if you’re not stable.”

Petra let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. “Stable? You call this stable? I’m lying in a hospital bed! I’m an equestrian showgirl! I’m supposed to be riding in the stables, not trying to be stable while lying here helpless!”

“Petra…” Eren started, but she cut him off.

“Just… just leave me alone!” she shouted, throwing the blanket off her legs and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!”

Mikasa stepped forward, her voice firm yet compassionate. “We’re not doing this to you, Petra. We’re trying to help you. Throwing a temper tantrum isn’t going to change anything.”

“Why can’t you just let me go?” Petra’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, a mixture of anger and fear simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m not weak! I’m not broken!”

Eren stepped back, his face pale. “It’s not about being weak. You need to give your body time to recover. Competing right now could be dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What’s dangerous is being stuck in this bed, being unable to do what I love!” Petra cried, her voice trembling. “I can’t just sit here waiting for answers. I need to be on my horse. I have to prove to everyone that I’m still the best!”

Eren’s expression softened again. “Petra, we all want you to ride again. But right now, we need to figure out what caused the seizures. What if something serious is going on? We can’t risk your health for a competition.”

As tears brimmed in Petra’s eyes, she felt a mix of emotions swirling within her-disappointment, frustration, but also an inkling of understanding. “I… I just wanted to be back out there. I wanted to be the best.”

“You still can be,” Eren interjected. “But right now, being the best means taking care of yourself. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s a step toward becoming even stronger.”

“I just… I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

Mikasa said softly. “We’ll figure this out together. You’re not alone in this, I promise.”

After a long moment, Petra exhaled slowly, the fire in her eyes flickering. “Okay… Okay, I’ll wait. But I swear, the moment I’m cleared, I’m getting back on that horse.”

Among the chaos, Annie, Jean, and Armin found themselves momentarily tethered to reality, sitting on the edge of the break room table with takeout containers sprawled across their laps.

Annie crammed a forkful of lukewarm cafeteria lunch food into her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration. “This shift is a marathon, not a sprint. Eat,” she urged, glancing sideways at Jean, who was visibly cringing at the sight of his meal.

“I can’t,” Jean said, his voice strained, eyes distant. “You try eating after performing seven rectal exams. The Slayer hates me.”

“She’s only a resident,” Annie replied with a roll of her eyes. “I have attendings hating me right now, so I get it. Just try to focus on eating, Jean.”

They all took another bite in a moment of solidarity, the sound of their chewing mingling with the distant beeping of monitors and hushed conversations from the nurses’ station.

“Speaking of hating, you know Eren is inbred?” Armin broke the silence, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Like it’s uncommon around here to be a doctor’s kid-” Jean began, only to be cut off by Armin.

“No, I mean royally inbred. I knew he looked familiar. But then when they said his full name, I realized why. His father is Grisha Jaeger.”

“Shut up, the Grisha?” Annie exclaimed, putting her fork down, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Uh-huh,” Armin nodded eagerly.

“Who’s Grisha Jaeger?” Jean interjected, looking genuinely confused as he glanced between his two co-workers.

Annie and Armin exchanged a laugh, a sound like music in the dimly lit break room. “The Jaeger method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Armin teased, and Jean’s frown deepened.

“Look, I’m new here, okay? What’s the big deal about this guy?”

Annie leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He was one of the first hotshot surgeons. He practically invented the abdominal closure techniques we use today. He’s a living legend! Won the Eldia Mithras Award in Medicine twice.”

“Okay, okay. So I didn’t know one thing.” Jean crossed his arms defensively, his irritation slowly melting into intrigue.

Annie smirked. “Talk about parental pressure though. Imagine having Grisha Jaeger as your dad.”

“I’d kill to have Grisha Jaeger as a father,” Armin said dreamily. “I would kill to be Grisha Jaeger.”

“Me too. He’s literally the man, the myth, the legend,” Annie chimed in, twirling her fork in her pasta. “But it’s all about what you do with that name. Look at Eren.”

As if on cue, Eren swaggered over, tray in hand, and plopped down at the table with a huff. “Petra Ral is a pain in the ass,” he grumbled. “If I hadn’t taken the Hippocratic Oath, I’d Kevorkian her with my bare hands.”

The table fell silent, and everyone stared at him wide-eyed. It was typical of Eren to push the envelope with his dark humor, but the gravity of his words, especially being in a hospital setting, hung in the air like a cloud.

“What?” he asked, defensive. “You guys know I’m joking, right?”

Before anyone could respond, a tall figure appeared at their table. Erwin, the head of cardiothoracic surgery, known for his sharp mind and commanding presence, had approached the interns with an air of authority.

“Good afternoon, interns,” he said, his voice carrying over the din of the cafeteria. “As you might or might not know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I’m running the OR today, I get to make that choice.”

He turned slightly, clapping Jean on the back with a hearty slap. “Jean Kirstein. You’ll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations.”

“Me?” Jean blinked, his fork hovering mid-air. The sound of his heart pounding in his ears drowned out the chatter around him.

“Enjoy,” Erwin said with a nod, striding away to a seat at a nearby table, leaving an electric silence in his wake.

“Did he say me?” Jean whispered, still processing the shock.

Armin’s eyes widened, his mouth agape. “That’s amazing, Jean! 

Annie offered a faint smile, her stoic demeanor cracking just a bit. “Just… don’t screw it up.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he replied, feigning annoyance but grinning nonetheless.

“Seriously, man,” Eren said, leaning back in his chair, “this is a big deal. You’re going to be under a lot of pressure. Just remember to breathe.”

“Breathe,” Jean muttered, the weight of the moment beginning to sink in. “Right.”

On the other side of the cafeteria, Mikasa Ackerman leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and brows furrowed. She watched Erwin with a disapproving glare, her dark eyes narrowing as he finalized his decision. As Erwin sat down at the table, she voiced her concerns. “I’ve seen his file,” she said, her voice cutting with a warning edge. “Jean Kirstein barely made the cut to get into this program. He’s not your guy.”

Erwin turned to her, his expression unyielding. “No, he’s my guy all right.”

Mikasa sighed, frustration bubbling beneath her composed exterior. “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers more than any other intern on surgery. You know that.”

His lips curled into a slight smile, an enigmatic expression that always seemed to hide a deeper understanding. “Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line. It’s a lesson they learn quickly in this field.”

“I get it, I respect it, but Jean? Kirstein’s just a wide-eyed puppy who barks just to bark; he can’t even take the pressure,” Mikasa shot back, her voice laced with concern. “You’re going to break him.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow, contemplating her words. He appreciated Mikasa’s passion; she was one of the best surgeons in the hospital, and her drive to protect the vulnerable was commendable. But he had seen something in Jean that intrigued him, something that went beyond his qualifications on paper.

“You don’t see what I see,” Erwin said, his tone gentle yet firm. “Kirstein has potential. He may be green, but there’s a fire in him. Sometimes, it just takes the right push to ignite it.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to protest further, but Erwin cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I’ve made my choice. We’ll give him a chance today. If he fails, I’ll take responsibility.”

“Petra’s having another seizure,” Eren said, his voice low as he approached Mikasa, who was reviewing Petra Ral’s chart in the breakroom. 

“Again?” Mikasa snapped her head up. “How long has it been going on?” Her voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it that frightened Eren. He knew he messed something up. 

Eren shifted uncomfortably. “Just a few minutes, I think. I saw her shaking in her bed.”

“A few minutes!?” Mikasa stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the linoleum. She slammed the chart shut with a decisive thud. “Jaeger, we need to go. Now .” She strode towards the exit, charts clutched to her chest.

Eren didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled after Mikasa, her steps quick as her white coat billowed slightly behind her. “Eren,” Mikasa said, not breaking stride, her voice low but laced with a simmering frustration. “Why in the world were you wasting time coming to tell me in person? Why didn’t you page me?”

Eren's gaze dropped from the unfamiliar labyrinthine corridors, landing on the small, black pager clipped to the waistband of his scrubs. He poked it with a finger, a sheepish, almost childlike expression crossing his face. “Uhhh…I... I forgot it existed Dr. Mikasa. Honestly, I just...I didn’t think-” 

Mikasa stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, forcing Eren to halt abruptly behind her. “Clearly.” A sharp sigh escaped her as she continued. “Eren, for the love of everything, get used to that pager! You're not in medical school anymore where you have time to walk around and deliver news in person. Seconds matter. Now, let’s stop wasting time and hurry up .”

Eren felt a hot flush creep up his neck. Horrible first impression , he thought, his stomach clenching. And I haven't even touched a scalpel yet . He pushed himself to an even faster pace, his mind racing, berating himself for his stupidity. He could practically feel Mikasa's disappointment radiating off her.

They burst into Petra’s room and without a second’s hesitation, Mikasa was at Petra’s bedside. Eren stood back, useless, a spectator to the madness. Two nurses were working frantically, their faces etched with worry. One nurse was speaking into a phone, her voice urgent. Petra was still convulsing, her body wracked with tremors, her breathing shallow and ragged. A monitor beside her beeped erratically. 

“Has the diazepam been administered?” Mikasa asked the nearest nurse. 

“Yes, Dr. Mikasa,” one of the nurses replied. “A few minutes ago. But she's not improving.”

Mikasa didn’t hesitate as she continued to bark orders, seamlessly taking control of the situation. “Increase the dose. And get ready to administer IV diazepam. Bolus with saline now.” 

On the other side of the bed, the nurse on the phone, hung up and turned to Mikasa, who was still tending to Petra. “Doctor Ackerman, I’ve informed Petra’s parents she’s had another seizure. Her father should be on his way soon.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa nodded curtly, her focus unwavering. She injected another dosage of medication into Petra’s IV bag and turned toward the door where Eren was standing. “Jaeger, don’t just sit there like a sitting duck. Get her chart, update it immediately. Anticipate any questions Mr. Ral might have about her condition and care.”

Eren momentarily froze, the command snapped him out of his stupor. He nodded and hurried to grab the chart from the bedside table, his mind racing. “Y-y-yes, Dr. Mikasa.”

“Get her on IV fluids to help prevent dehydration and maintain her blood pressure,” Mikasa ordered, already reaching for an IV line. “It seems the seizing is slowing down.” Eren could faintly see it – the subtle slowing of the tremors, the easing of the tension in her face. The fact that Mikasa was able to pick up on it evidenced that her surgical aptitude was undeniable. Soon after, Petra stopped seizing altogether, though she still remained unconscious. The tension in the room eased, a collective sigh of relief.

The nurse who had been on the phone spoke up again as she looked up from her pager. “Dr. Mikasa, Petra's father is in the waiting,” she informed the two. “Should I bring him up?”

Mikasa nodded. “Bring him in, thanks.”

Eren, still at the computer working on the chart, looked up. “Dr. Mikasa, do you want to talk to Petra’s father, or should I get Dr. Smith?”

Mikasa shook her head firmly. “No, Smith’s off the case. He has a more pressing cardio case he needs to handle. Petra belongs to Dr. Ackerman now.” 

Eren shot Mikasa a confused look. “But you’re Dr. Ackerman.” 

Mikasa sighed, knowing that the naming politics at the hospital could be hard to grasp especially for the first-day interns. “Yes, but I meant the other Dr. Ackerman, the neurosurgeon attending. He’s over there.” She pointed down the corridor. 

He stole a glance in the direction Mikasa pointed, where he caught sight of the back of a short figure clad in a crisp white coat, speaking intently with a nurse. There was something in the set of his posture, the slight tilt of his head, that felt… familiar. The man exuded an aura of authority and calm; it was clear he was in charge here. He couldn't quite place it, but a strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. Strange, do I know him?

A soft knock came at the door, disrupting Eren’s thoughts, and then it opened just enough for Petra’s dad, Mr. Ral, to cautiously peek in. His face was pale, etched with worry and exhaustion as his eyes darted to his daughter’s prone form. Mr. Ral approached the bed, his hand hovering over Petra’s forehead, not quite touching her. “Dr. Mikasa, I heard,” he began, his voice hoarse, “I heard she had...They said there was… another seizure?”

Mikasa nodded, moving to the foot of the bed, her voice professional but laced with a quiet gravity. “Yes, Mr. Ral. She had a grand mal seizure early this morning. We've stabilized her, and she's resting now.” 

Mr. Ral’s eyes widened slightly with fear and concern. “A… grand mal seizure? What exactly is that, Doctor? It sounds so… serious.” His gaze flickered between Mikasa and Petra, his hands clenching slightly at his sides.

She paused, choosing her words carefully so as not to cause further alarm. “Imagine, if you will, the brain as a complex electrical circuit. Sometimes, there’s a sudden, kind of massive short-circuit, which then causes the body to lose consciousness and convulse.” 

Mr. Ral absorbed the explanation, his gaze still fixed on Petra. “And have they… have you found out why this is happening? What’s causing these seizures?” His voice tightened with a desperate urgency.

“That’s precisely what we’re working to determine. To that end, because of its severity and complexity, her case is being reassigned.”

“Reassigned? What does that mean? Is it because… is she getting worse?” His eyes widened, a fresh wave of panic rising. 

Mikasa stepped closer, her expression softening slightly. “Her care is being escalated, Mr. Ral. Given the nature of this seizure, we believe it requires the expertise of a specialist who can provide the most focused and intensive care.” She took a breath. “Her case has been reassigned to Dr. Ackerman. He’s the head of neurosurgery here.”

Mr. Ral’s brow furrowed as he echoed, “Neurosurgery? That sounds so… Is she going to be okay?” His voice broke on the last word.

“I understand your apprehension, Mr. Ral,” Mikasa said, her gaze steady and reassuring. “But I promise you, it’s the best course of action for Petra right now. Dr. Ackerman is… he’s one of the best doctors we have here at Wall Sina. He’ll be reviewing all her scans and reports immediately. He’s already been briefed. You can trust that Petra is in the most capable hands.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mikasa,” Petra’s father replied, her voice trembling. Mikasa offered a small, earnest nod in response. He looked from Mikasa’s unwavering face to his daughter, still and pale in the bed. 

As the room settled into silence once more, Mikasa turned toward Eren, her voice commanding. “Jaeger, go get Dr. Ackerman. We need to brief him on the situation. 

As Eren took a few tentative steps in that direction, the man turned, and Eren froze just a mere few feet away. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It was Levi - his one-night stand from just this morning. Eren’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t expected to see Levi again so soon, let alone here. His heart raced, the memory of their brief, heated encounter flooding his mind, along with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Levi's dark eyes widened in recognition, and Eren felt a rush of warmth creep up his neck and his cheeks flush.

In an instinctual move, Eren averted his gaze from Levi, hoping to escape the awkwardness of the moment. But it was too late. Levi's gaze was already fixed on him, sharp and unyielding. Time seemed to freeze. Eren's breath caught in his throat. Levi’s eyes were piercing, his brow furrowed in surprise, but there was also something else - something that sent Eren’s heart racing.

Eren’s instincts kicked in, and he turned on his heel, desperate to put distance between them. But before he could make it back into the room, Levi’s hand shot out, gripping Eren’s arm and pulling him into a nearby stairwell, a place where they could speak privately, away from prying eyes.

“Hey - “ Eren started, “Dr. Ackerman-”

“Dr. Ackerman?” Levi cut him off. His expression was a mix of bemusement and frustration. “This morning it was Levi. Now it’s Dr. Ackerman?”

Eren looked down, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck. “Dr. Ackerman, we should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened?” Levi leaned closer, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You sleeping with me last night? Or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I’d like to hold onto.”

Eren’s face flushed even deeper. “No. There will be no memories. I’m not the guy in the bar anymore, and you’re not that guy either. This can’t exist. You get that, right?”

Levi’s brow furrowed, and he stepped closer, invading Eren’s personal space. “You took advantage of me, and now you want to forget about it.”

“I did not take advantage-”

“I was drunk, vulnerable, and good-looking, and you took advantage,” Levi shot back in a teasing manner, yet his eyes narrowed.

“Okay, we were both drunk,” Eren replied, his voice rising in exasperation. “And you’re not that good-looking.” That’s a lie Eren, and you know it . 

Levi raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Well, maybe not today. But last night, I was very good-looking, and you took advantage.”

“Stop it!” Eren’s frustration bubbled over, and he felt the urge to laugh and scream simultaneously. “I did not take-”

“Want to take advantage again?” Levi quipped, his tone teasing. “Say Friday night?”

“No!” Eren’s voice echoed off the stairwell walls. “You’re an attending, and I’m your intern. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Levi pressed, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” Eren muttered, the words escaping before he could censor himself. Levi’s smirk deepened, and Eren felt his resolve weaken. Oh wait, Levi has seen me naked - that was a shit thing to say . 

“Is that a problem?” Levi asked, stepping even closer, his voice low and seductive.

“Dr. Ackerman, this is inappropriate,” Eren stammered, trying to regain control of the situation. His mind raced with thoughts of professionalism and boundaries, yet the chemistry between them was undeniable.

Eren turned to leave, but Levi sighed, a sound laced with frustration and something softer. “You can’t just ignore what happened.”

“Watch me.” Eren spurred his heel and opened the stairwell door, only to slam it back shut onto Levi Ackerman’s surprised face. 

Later that same afternoon, the galley was packed with all the surgical interns who were all tuned in to watch the appendectomy, the first official surgery to be performed by a member of their intern class. A single operating table stood in the center of the room. Overhead fluorescent lights buzzed quietly, and the rushing water of the tap was still flowing as the surgeons prepared to scrub in to enter the room. The spotlight was on Jean Kirstein, who stood at the table, a bundle of nerves wrapped in a crisp white coat.

“Open, identify, ligate, irrigate, close,” Jean muttered under his breath, repeating the mantra as though it might bring him some semblance of comfort. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his surgical gloves. He pulled against the elastic, stretching it wide before letting it rip against his skin, in an effort to keep him focused. 

Sasha Braus, a brunette, leaned in closer, whispering to the group gathered around her. “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

“Nah, code brown,” Connie Springer, an intern with a buzzcut, chimed in, smirking. “Right in his pants.”

Reiner Braun leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “He’s all about the flops. I swear, he’s going to sweat himself unsterile.”

“Ten bucks says he messes up the McBird,” Ymir Ilse challenged, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Twenty says he cries,” Armin Arlert added, unable to hide his grin. The stakes were rising, and the bets were flowing.

“I’ll put twenty on a total meltdown,” Krista Lenz chimed in, her voice lilting but the concern in her eyes unmistakable.

Eren Yeager, the most supportive of the group, took a deep breath, brows furrowing. “Fifty says he pulls the whole thing off.”

The sudden silence that followed hung heavily in the air, and every eye turned to Eren, their expressions a mix of disbelief and skepticism. After all, this was Jean. Though all the interns had met the same morning, it was apparent to all that Jean was a well-meaning, hard-working guy, but also someone who could never seem to catch a break.

“That’s one of us down there,” Eren continued, his voice growing steadier, the conviction burning bright in his chest. “The first one of us. Where’s your loyalty?”

The room remained silent for another second as no one answered. Reiner Braun smirked, arms crossed defiantly. “Seventy-five says he can’t even ID the appendix.”

“I’ll take that action,” Annie Leonhart piped in, a challenge dancing in her gaze. The others soon joined in, various bets being exchanged and written down with a fervor that transformed the room’s tension into something almost playful.

“Okay, Kirstein,” Erwin Smith, their supervising surgeon, said, seeming to hear all the rowdy energy and the buzz from the gallery. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Eren felt a rush of anticipation as he turned his attention back to the operating table. Jean was taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he readied himself. The surgical nurse passed him instruments with a reassuring smile, but Jean’s eyes remained fixed on the incision site.

With a steady hand, Jean made the first incision. The interns collectively held their breath, watching his every move. He hesitated for just a moment, glancing up at the instructor as if seeking approval. Erwin nodded, and Jean’s resolve seemed to solidify.

“Scalpel,” Jean commanded, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

“Scalpel,” the nurse confirmed, handing it to him with professional ease. The gallery of surgical interns watching from the observation window erupted in subdued cheers, a mix of nerves and excitement vibrating through their collective energy.

“Shh!” Erwin Smith waved a hand at the interns to quiet them. “Focus, Jean. You’re not here for their entertainment.”

Armin, one of the other interns, leaned against the window, whispering to the others, “That Erwin Smith, he’s trouble.”

The group chuckled, but Jean barely heard them. His mind narrowed down to the task at hand. He inhaled deeply, feeling the coolness of the scalpel in his hand. He placed the blade to the skin and proceeded to dig in. 

“More pressure,” Erwin advised, leaning closer to Jean, his voice low but commanding. “Human flesh is a tough shell, dig in. The patient is numb anyways, you’re not going to hurt them any more than they already will be.”

Jean nodded, gripping the scalpel tighter. He pressed down and made the first incision, feeling the resistance give way beneath the blade. The interns in the gallery whispered excitedly, their awe tangible.

“Pick-ups,” Jean called, adrenaline coursing through him.

“Pick-ups,” the nurse echoed, swiftly handing them over.

“Clamp.”

“Clamp.”

As he navigated deeper, Jean felt the familiar hum of determination rising within him.

“Met some bone. I’m there,” he announced, a hint of triumph creeping into his voice.

“Damn, he got the peritoneum, and he opened him up!” Connie exclaimed from the gallery.

“I told you, he’s going to pull it off,” Eren added, excitement brimming in his tone.

Jean glanced briefly toward the observation window, catching a glimpse of the eager faces of his friends. The cheers filled him with confidence as he pressed on.

“Scalpel,” he instructed, heart pounding in time with the beeping monitors.

“Scalpel,” the nurse provided, and he accepted it without breaking his focus.

“Appendix is out!” Jean declared, tossing the organ into a tray with a triumphant flourish. Cheers erupted from the gallery, but Erwin remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Jean with a mixture of pride and scrutiny.

“Not bad,” Erwin acknowledged, but his tone suggested that the real challenge was still ahead.

“Thank you,” Jean replied, feeling a rush of validation.

“Now all you have to do is invert the stump into the cecum and simultaneously pull up on the purse-strings, but be careful not to...” Erwin's voice trailed off, and then he added, “Oh no. He ripped the cecum. Got a bleeder.”

Jean's heart dropped. The operating room’s atmosphere shifted instantly from celebratory to tense.

“You’re filling with stool, what do you do now?” Erwin asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

“Uh...uh...” Jean stammered, panic clawing at his throat as he realized the weight of the situation.

“Think!” Erwin commanded sharply. “You start the suction, and you start digging for those purse-strings before she bleeds to death. Give him a clamp!”

“BP’s dropping,” the nurse warned, her voice edged with urgency.

“He's choking,” Armin whispered anxiously.

“Come on, Jean!” Eren urged, his voice barely audible above the hum of machinery.

“Today! Pull your balls out of your back pocket, let’s go! What are you waiting for, suction?” Erwin barked, urgency thick in the air.

“Getting too low, folks... Dr. Smith...” the nurse added, her tone almost pleading.

“Get out of the way! Pansy-ass idiot! Get him out of here! Suction! Clamp!” Erwin ordered, asserting dominance in the chaotic moment.

“007” Reiner broke the tense energy of the gallery. “That’s an 007 for sure.”

“007, yep, that’s a total 007,” Bertholdt Hoover agreed with Reiner.

“What’s 007 mean?” Krista asked, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Licensed to kill,” Eren explained, the dark humor failing to permeate the tension that enveloped the room. “Looks like I owe someone fifty dollars.”

It was just past eleven o’clock in the hospital - and the interns were only on their 15th hour of their first 48-hour shift. Things had settled down for the most part in the hospital, and in a rare moment of downtime, Eren, Annie, Armin, and Reiner were all resting in the on-call room awaiting their next page. The dim light flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the cluttered room filled with mismatched furniture and half-empty coffee cups. The air was thick with the scent of stale pizza and desperation, a testament to the long hours spent within these walls.

Eren sprawled on the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he mentally reviewed the cases, he had seen that day. “I swear, if I see one more patient, I’m going to scream,” he groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Jean, perched on the edge of a rickety chair, chuckled. “I think we’re all feeling that way. Maybe we should start a support group: Interns Anonymous.”

Reiner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a terrible idea. I don’t want to hear your sob stories about how hard it is to suture a three-inch incision, 007.”

Jean’s heart sank. “Are you talking about me?” 

“007? Seriously, dude, no one’s calling you that,” Armin reassured him, a hint of amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

“Come on! I heard Reiner say it!” Jean insisted, almost pleading.

“Maybe he was talking about Bond, James Bond,” Eren chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder.

“I’m not dumb” Jean retorted, “I know what 007 means when it’s assigned in the medical world.”

“Oh, how many times do we have to go through this, Jean? Five, ten? Just give me a number and I can call you that instead, or else I’m going to hit you,” Annie said, her tone sharp, yet her smirk betrayed her amusement.

“Trust me, he wasn’t talking about you,” Armin assured him, stifling a laugh.

“Are you sure? You guys wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Jean pressed, the absurdity of the situation beginning to wear on him.

“Would we lie to you?” Eren asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Jean said flatly.

Reiner rolled his eyes. “007 is a state of mind.”

Just then, the piercing sound of a pager interrupted their banter. Eren’s face turned serious as he read the message. “Shit. It’s a 911 for Petra Ral. I have to go.” He took off at a run, leaving a rush of adrenaline in his wake.

“Maybe I should’ve gone into geriatrics,” Jean said with a sigh, watching Eren sprint away. “No one minds when you kill an old person.”

“Are you kidding?” Annie laughed, shaking her head. “Surgery is hot, it’s the Marines, it’s macho, it’s hardcore. Geriatrics is for freaks who live with their mothers and never have sex.”

“I’ve got to get my own place,” Jean frowned, crossing his arms defensively as he muttered under his breath. 

“Why?” Annie shot back, her eyebrows arching playfully. “So you can have all the wild sex you can dream of?” The group erupted in laughter, but it was Jean's discomfort that sparked the biggest chuckle.

Reiner sat across from Jean, leaning forward, his interest piqued. “Speaking of wild sex, is Eren seeing anybody?” he asked, a casual grin on his face.

“I don’t know,” Jean replied, shrugging. He could feel Reiner’s gaze, sharp and assessing. “I mean, I’m kind of friends with him. Well, I mean, we’re not exactly friends-more like acquaintances who hang out when we have to. Really only today-”

“Dude.” Reiner cut him off, rolling his eyes with exaggerated patience. “Stop talking.”

Jean threw up his hands in mock surrender, but his cheeks flushed slightly. The atmosphere in the room shifted, an electric current coursing through it as if Eren’s sudden absence had created a vacuum.

“C’mon, you have to admit it,” Annie chimed in, smirking as she leaned back in her chair. “He’s hot. It’s not just you, Reiner. Everyone’s noticed.”

“Yeah, well, he has that whole ‘I’m a tortured genius’ vibe going on,” Reiner replied, a small chuckle escaping him. He leaned back, a mischievous light in his eyes. “And it seems he can do things with his hands that would make a girl swoon.”

“Or a guy,” Jean muttered, crossing his arms. He shot a quick glance at Reiner, feeling an awkward tension that had suddenly surfaced. He wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

Annie noticed the shift and leaned forward, sensing the brewing tension. “You like him, don’t you?”

Jean opened his mouth, clearly caught off guard. “What? No -”.

“Sure you don’t,” Reiner interrupted, suppressing a grin. He leaned back, clearly amused by Jean’s flustered demeanor.

“Maybe I just like him because he’s got them Jaeger genes,” Jean shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

Reiner’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No kidding, Jaeger genes? He’s Grisha Jaeger’s son? No wonder I already like him.”

“Everyone does,” Armin Arlert chimed in from the corner, his quiet demeanor contrasting with the brewing tension. “It doesn’t take two and two to realize who his father is. Doesn’t hurt, too, that he’s conventionally attractive.”

Krista Lenz, who had been watching the exchange, chimed in, her voice laced with empathy. “He’s under a lot of pressure. I can’t imagine how it feels being Grisha Jaeger’s son in a surgical program like this. Everyone’s expecting him to be perfect.”

Armin nodded, his brow slightly furrowed. “It’s a lot to carry. But he’ll manage, I believe in him.”

Jean watched the door, feeling a mixture of admiration, insecurity, and something else he couldn’t quite place. “I get that we all think Eren’s impressive, but he’s just a guy, you know?” He crossed his arms tighter, as if shielding himself from the weight of comparison.

Reiner raised an eyebrow. “Just a guy? You don’t think he’s a little more than that?”

“Honestly?” Jean replied, crossing his arms tighter. “I don’t know. I mean, sure, he’s good-looking, and I get that he’s got a big name backing him, but he’s still human. He’s probably just as scared as the rest of us.”

“Does Eren realize we know he’s Grisha Jaeger’s son?” Krista asked, her tone shifting to one of concern.

“No…” Jean’s voice trailed off, lost in thought.

“Let’s keep it that way then,” Armin suggested, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness. The last thing they needed was to put any more pressure on him.

The group fell silent for a moment, each lost in their thoughts, the room heavy with unspoken feelings. 

Armin cleared his throat, breaking the silence to speak again. “You know, I’ve been thinking. If we don’t tell him who his father is, maybe we can just… be friends? You know, get to know him as a person, rather than just the ‘son of Grisha Jaeger.’”

Krista smiled softly. “That could work. We should show him that we’re not just interested in his last name but who he is as a person.”

Jean nodded, although doubts gnawed at him. “But what if he finds out later? What if he thinks we were pretending the whole time?”

“Then we’d have to hope he understands,” Armin replied, his voice steady. “People are more than their names. If we’re true friends, he’ll see that.”

Reiner chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “Look at us, scheming like we’re back in medical school. We’re adults. Let’s just treat him like any other intern and see how it goes.”

Eren’s pager vibrated violently against his scrubs as he ran down the hallways towards his patient’s room. He glanced down at the updated message: “23:37 - Patient Petra – Room 404 – Grand Mal Seizure.” Shit, this was another big one . Panic gripped his chest, and he sprinted down the hallway, dodging nurses and fellow interns along the way.

Upon arriving, the door swung open, and he was met with a cacophony of voices that seemed to bounce off the walls, echoing in his mind.

“Dr. Jaeger! What took you so long?” a nurse shouted, her voice a blur of urgency.

“She’s having multiple grand mal seizures,” another nurse chimed in. “Now how do you want to proceed, Dr. Jaeger? Are you even listening to me?”

Eren’s mind raced as he grabbed Petra’s chart, desperately trying to piece together the information. The echoing voices faded as he zeroed in on the details. “Okay, she’s on Prazepam?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s had 4mg,” replied the first nurse.

Eren glanced back at Petra, her body convulsing rhythmically on the hospital bed. Her face was paler that usual, and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. “Did you page Dr. Mikasa and Dr. Ackerman?” he asked urgently.

“The Prazepam’s not working,” the second nurse responded, her voice rising in pitch.

Another nurse in the room jumped in, “Phenobarbital. Load her with Phenobarbital.”

“Pheno's in,” said the second nurse, but the tension in the room was palpable as she delivered the news Eren dreaded. “No change.”

“Did you page Dr. Ackerman?” Eren pressed, his panic mounting.

“I just told you!” she snapped back. No you didn’t clearly!

“Page him again! Stat!” Eren commanded, his voice rising above the fray.

“Dr. Jaeger, you need to tell us what you want to do!” the second nurse echoed, her voice hollow and distant as if traveling through a tunnel.

A shrill beeping suddenly filled the room, piercing through the chaos.

“Heart’s stopped!” another nurse cried out, her voice slicing through the panic.

“Code blue! Code blue! Code blue!” echoed across the room as they sprang into action.

Eren’s heart raced. He took hold of the defibrillator paddles, feeling the cold metal against his palms. His brain kicked into gear as he recalled his training. This was it - this was no longer a dummy on a table, but a human in a bed. 

“Charge pulse of two hundred!” Eren called out, his tone authoritative.

“Charged... Clear!” the nurse shouted, positioning the paddles on Petra’s chest. Eren pressed the buttons, sending a jolt of electricity into her body.

“Still defib. Nothing,” the nurse reported, her voice tinged with despair.

“Charging,” another nurse confirmed. “Nineteen seconds.”

“Charge to 300!” Eren instructed, urgency threading his voice.

“Three hundred. Anything? Twenty-seven seconds,” came the reply, but the atmosphere was growing more tense, more desperate.

“Charge to 360!” Eren ordered, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Come on, Petra.”

“Forty-nine seconds,” another nurse announced, but Eren hardly registered the time. His focus was entirely on Petra.

“Charge again! Charge again! Anything?” he shouted, his voice breaking under the weight of desperation.

“I see sinus rhythm!” one of the nurses exclaimed, a glimmer of hope breaking through the dark cloud of panic.

“Blood pressure’s coming up,” another added.

“All right now. Pressure’s returning. Grid’s coming back…”

Just then, the door burst open, and Levi rushed in. His sharp gaze swept across the room, assessing the situation in an instant.

“What the hell happened?” Levi barked, his tone no-nonsense.

“She had a seizure, and-” Eren started to explain, but Levi cut him off.

“A seizure?” Levi echoed, eyes narrowing.

“Her heart stopped,” Eren finished, feeling the weight of failure in his voice.

“You were supposed to be monitoring her!” Levi snapped, frustration lacing his words.

“I checked on her, and she-” Eren protested weakly, but Levi held up a hand.

“I got it. Just-just go,” he ordered, his voice steadying the chaos in the room. “Someone give me her chart, please?”

Eren stepped back, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions - guilt, fear, and a flicker of hope as he watched Levi take control of the situation. He felt utterly lost, yet he knew he needed to gather himself. The sting of guilt clawed at Eren as he turned and walked out, the noise of the emergency room fading behind him. He leaned against the cool wall of the corridor, drawing in a shaky breath. Maybe the reason why he was so strung up on this case was because of his conflicting feelings for Levi and his desire to make amends towards him. The memory of their night together - the stolen glances, the shared laughter, the way Levi had kissed him as if he were the most important person in the world - clashed violently with the weight of the present moment.

“Eren!” Mikasa’s voice broke through his reverie. She stormed toward him, her expression fierce, the green scrubs she wore pulling taut against her form. “You get a 911, you page me immediately, not in the five minutes it takes you to get to the emergency, immediately! You are on my team and if somebody dies it’s my ass,” she said, her eyes sharp, slicing through his guilt like a scalpel.

Eren opened his mouth to protest, but the weight of her words settled on him. “I’m sorry, Mikasa,” he said, and for a moment, he felt like a child being scolded. “I was-”

“Don’t give me excuses,” she interrupted, her voice stern but not unkind. “We’re all stressed, but you have to keep your head in the game. There’s too much at stake.”

As she walked away, Eren could see the flicker of concern in her eyes, the weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders as well. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his head. Guilt wrapped around him like a vice, tightening with every passing moment.

After a few minutes of pacing the sterile hallway, Eren caught sight of Levi through the glass of the emergency room. The doctor moved with purpose, barking orders, but his eyes were still fierce and focused, unwavering. Eren pressed his hands against the cool glass, feeling the reality of the situation crash down on him like a wave. This wasn’t about him or his feelings. It was about Petra, and her life hung in the balance.

“Eren,” Levi’s voice sliced through the chaos again as he caught Eren’s presence lurking behind the door. This time his call was softer, a rare moment of calm that beckoned him closer.

Eren pushed through the door, bracing himself for whatever came next. Levi’s expression shifted slightly as Eren entered, a flicker of recognition and something more in his eyes.

“Where’s her family?” Levi asked, his voice lower now, his focus shifted to Eren.

“I haven’t seen them since dinner,” Eren replied, trying to ignore the way Levi’s presence sent a warm flush through him. “I can check with the front desk though.”

“Do that,” Levi said, turning his attention back to the patient, his hands deftly working to stabilize Petra. Eren watched in awe, the confidence in Levi’s movements both intimidating and intoxicating.

As Eren turned to leave, he felt Levi’s gaze on him, a weight that pinned him to the floor. “Jaeger.”

He hesitated, glancing back. “Yeah?”

“Just… make sure you’re on top of your responsibilities,” Levi said, his voice a mixture of reprimand and concern.

Eren nodded, swallowing hard. “I will. I promise.”

“Jaeger,” Levi said again, this time calling his name out in a gentler voice, as he came over to meet him. “Stay close to the family. Keep them calm.”

Eren’s heart raced as he nodded, his eyes darting between Petra’s still body and Levi’s intense gaze. “Right,” he said, his voice steadying.

As he approached the family, he heard Levi issuing commands again, this time with an urgency that gripped Eren's heart. Time stretched and folded as Eren stood by, answering questions, offering support, and keeping the family focused on the hope of Petra’s recovery. After what felt like an eternity, the chaos subsided. Petra was stabilized, and the hospital room was quieter, but the shadows of the ordeal lingered. Eren stood near the door, watching as Levi scribbled notes in Petra’s chart, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Levi looked up, and the two locked eyes for a moment. “You did well just now,” Levi said quietly, a compliment that felt like a fragile lifeline thrown into the tumult of Eren’s emotions.

“Thanks,” Eren managed, a sense of relief washing over him. “I’m sor-”.

“Stop. Don’t apologize,” Levi said abruptly, his voice steady. “Not here at least.”

As they stepped outside into the dim corridor, Eren felt the air shift, a tension hanging between them that was both familiar and foreign. “About what happened… between us,” Eren began, but Levi held up a hand.

“Not now,” Levi said, his eyes sharp. “We need to focus on our jobs first. I can’t let personal feelings cloud my judgment - especially not today.”

Eren felt the sting of disappointment but nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Okay.”

“But later,” Levi continued, softer now. “We’ll talk later.”

Tension crackled in the air, an undercurrent of exhaustion and anxiety as the young interns crammed into the small space of the on-call room, flipping through medical texts and scribbled notes. It was well past midnight, and fatigue threatened to pull their eyelids heavy, but the stakes were higher than any of them had anticipated when they signed up for this grueling internship.

“Does anybody know why we’re here?” whispered Sasha, to the group huddled around a table. The others looked at her, some with furrowed brows, others with a half-hearted chuckle, until a voice cut through the murmurs.

“Well, I guess I should say, good morning,” said Dr. Levi Ackerman as he stepped through the door, his presence commanding immediate attention. His reputation preceded him - known for his surgical precision and no-nonsense attitude, he was a figure of both reverence and fear among the interns.

The interns scrambled to sit up straight, their eyes widening at the sight of him. “I’m going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon,” he continued, pacing the front of the room with a deliberate gait, “I’m going to ask interns for help.”

A murmur of surprise swept through the group. Interns weren’t typically invited to assist in real-time emergencies, much less to solve medical enigmas.

“I’ve got this patient, Petra Ral,” he said, placing a chart on the table. “Right now, she’s a mystery. She doesn’t respond to her meds. Labs are clean, scans are pure, but she’s having seizures. Grand mal seizures with no visible cause. She’s a ticking clock. She’s going to die if I don’t make a diagnosis. Which is where you come in.”

Levi’s voice held a weight of urgency that made the air thicken. All the interns exchanged glances with each other, each face reflecting a mix of disbelief and determination.

“I can’t do it alone,” Levi continued, eyes scanning the room. “I need your extra minds, extra eyes. I need you to play detective. I need you to find out why Petra is having seizures. I know you’re tired, you’re busy, you’ve got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand.” He paused, a sharp breath escaping his lips. “So, I’m going to give you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Petra needs surgery. You get to do what no interns get to do: scrub in to assist on an advanced procedure.”

The interns exchanged looks of disbelief; was this really happening? This was their chance to prove themselves.

“Dr. Mikasa,” Levi called, gesturing to one of the other surgeons who had been silently observing, “will hand you Petra’s chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we’re going to save Petra’s life, we have to do it soon.”

As the interns gathered around the chart, they examined Petra's case, a complex labyrinth of symptoms that twisted and turned in various directions.

“Look at this,” said Connie, pointing to a specific note in Petra’s history. “She’s been an equestrian showgirl since she was six. She must have some sorts of injuries from her past. What if there’s some sort of internal trauma or brain injury that didn’t show up in the scans?”

“Or what if it’s an autoimmune response?” chimed in Ymir, her voice rising with excitement. “Some conditions can be so elusive that they hide from scans but still create havoc in the body.”

“I saw something about post-traumatic epilepsy in a journal article,” Bertholdt added, his mind racing. “What if the accident triggered something?”

Levi listened intently, occasionally nodding as they threw ideas back and forth, the energy in the room shifting from fatigue to fervor. Each intern seemed to transform, ignited by the possibility of making a real difference.

As the discussion continued, Armin pulled Eren aside, his expression earnest. “Hey, I want in on Ackerman’s surgery. You’ve been the intern on Petra since the start. You want to work together? We find the answer, we have a fifty-fifty chance of scrubbing in.”

Eren hesitated, glancing back toward the huddle of interns. “I’ll work with you, but I don’t want in on the surgery. You can have it.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get,” Armin insisted, his blue eyes wide with excitement.

“I don’t want to spend any more time with Ackerman than I have to,” Eren replied, crossing his arms defensively.

Armin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have against Ackerman?”

Eren ignored Armin’s question, choosing to let out a sigh and run a hand through his hair. “If we find the answer, the surgery is yours. Do you want to work together or not?”

Armin grinned and shook his head, realizing he had little choice. “Deal.”

They turned their focus back to the case. “Well, she doesn’t have anoxia, chronic renal failure, or acidosis,” Armin began, flipping through Petra’s charts. “It’s not a tumor because her CT’s clean. Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won’t work with Ackerman?”

“No. What about infection?” Eren asked, his mind racing with possibilities.

“No,” Armin replied, shaking his head. “There’s no white count, she has no ceteal lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap. Just tell me.”

Eren took a deep breath, the memories flooding back. “You can’t comment, make a face, or react in any way.”

Armin quickly nodded, curiosity overtaking.

“We had sex.”

Armin opened his mouth, gaping like a fish on land, before slamming his mouth closed. His eyes widened with a mixture of shock and understanding. ”Oh... that explains it.”

“Just keep it professional,” Eren said, his voice firm. “We’re here to help Petra.”

“What about an aneurysm?” Armin suggested, a pencil tapping rhythmically against the notepad in front of him.

Eren shook his head sharply. “No blood on the CT, and no headaches,” he replied tersely.

“Okay,” Armin continued, undeterred. “There’s no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma… was he good? I mean, he looks like he would be. Was it any good?”

Eren's face burned as he glared at Armin, who was scribbling notes without noticing his friend’s discomfort. “Yes. Now what are the answers? What if no one comes up with anything?”

Armin paused, finally meeting Eren's eyes. “You mean if she dies?”

“Yeah,” Eren muttered, his voice low. The weight of that possibility loomed large over them. He shifted in his chair, trying to focus on the case at hand rather than the memories of the night before.

“This is gonna sound really bad,” Armin said, his tone serious, “but I really wanted that surgery.”

Eren's heart sank. “Armin, come on,” he murmured. “It’s not about that. We’re here to save lives.” The words felt hollow, knowing that the stakes had suddenly become far more personal for him.

As the discussions continued, Eren tried to suppress the storm of emotions inside him. He glanced at Levi, who was now drawing out possible scenarios on the whiteboard, his pen moving with precision. He looked so composed, so unbothered by their shared history. Eren felt a pang of jealousy mixed with longing; how could Levi be so indifferent?

After reading the file over and over again, Armin sighed heavily. “Well, I mean the only thing I see is that she was an equestrian rider - meaning she had to have fallen a lot. But then - it’s strange… she only had symptoms after this fall. What if it’s related to that?” He pushed his reading glasses up his nose, glancing at Eren for validation.

Eren froze mid-thought as realization dawned on him. “No that’s it… Get up! Come on!” he shouted, bolting from his seat.

“What? Where are you going?” Armin asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the solution?”

“To Dr. Ackerman! We need to talk to him now!” Eren replied, urgency lacing his words.

They dashed to the front of the room, barely allowing time for the others to catch up. Eren’s heart raced as he interrupted Levi’s reading, startling the seasoned doctor. “Dr. Ackerman! We think we know what’s wrong with Petra!”

Armin, following closely behind, chimed in. “The only thing she could possibly need is a-Oh, oh, Dr. Ackerman! Just one moment, um, uh, Petra competes in equestrian showcases-”

“I know that,” Levi interrupted, his voice calm but impatient. “Go on…”

“Okay, she has no headaches, no neck pain, her CT scans are clean, and there’s no medical proof of an aneurysm,” Armin explained, trying to piece together his thoughts.

“Right,” Levi replied, crossing his arms.

“But what if she has an aneurysm anyway?” Armin pressed.

“There are no indicators,” Levi replied curtly.

“Ah, but it says in her file, that she notes she fell off her horse a few weeks ago when she was practicing for another showcase,” Armin insisted, his mind racing.

“Look, I appreciate you’re trying to help, but-” Levi began but was interrupted by another doctor in the room.

“This is not helping!” the doctor exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice.

Eren wasn’t about to back down. “She fell. When she jumped over the obstacle, she fell.”

Armin added, “It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head. You know she got right back up, iced her ankle, and everything was fine. It was a fall so minor her previous doctor didn’t even think to mention it when I was taking her history, but she did fall.”

“Let me remind you both that we’re dealing with a serious situation here,” Levi said, the edge of impatience creeping into his tone. “We don’t have time for speculation.”

“But what if there’s more to it?” Eren insisted, eyes blazing with determination. “What if this fall caused something internal, something we’re missing?”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, and a flicker of intrigue crossed his features. He had always respected the passion of his interns, but they needed to ground their theories in evidence, not conjecture. “Fine. Let’s assume you’re right. Well, you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million! Literally.”

Silence blanketed the group as they absorbed the implications of Armin’s and Eren’s theory. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on their shoulders. They had studied cases, but this was real. 

Levi broke the silence, his tone decisive. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Armin asked, his curiosity piqued.

“To find out if Petra’s the one in a million,” Levi replied, already heading for the door.

Eren and Armin exchanged worried glances but followed Levi without hesitation. In the imaging room, the three of them crowded around the monitor displaying Petra’s CT scan. The atmosphere was charged with an unspoken tension as Levi meticulously navigated the images. His fingers traced the contours of the scan, and then he stopped abruptly, his expression shifting from concentration to disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured.

“What? What is it?” Eren asked, leaning closer.

On the screen, dark spots marked a critical area of the brain. “There it is,” Levi said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s minor, but it’s there. It’s a subarachnoid hemorrhage. She’s bleeding into her brain.”

Eren’s heart sank, and Armin felt a wave of nausea wash over him. This was serious. They had been right to question the initial assessment.

“She could’ve gone her entire life without it ever being a problem,” Levi continued, his voice steely. “One tap in the right spot-”

“And it could explode,” Armin finished, his heart racing at the thought.

“Exactly. Now I have to fix it,” Levi stated, the gravity of the situation settling in. “You two did great work. I’d love to stay and kiss your asses, but I’ve got to tell Petra’s parents she’s having surgery. Bring me her chart, please.”

As the nurse handed over the file, Armin caught a moment of hesitation in Levi’s gaze. “Oh, and Dr. Ackerman,” he added, recalling their deal, “you said you’d pick someone to scrub in if we helped.”

Levi paused, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “Oh, yes, right. I’m sorry I can’t take you both; it’s going to be a full house. Jaeger, I’ll see you in the OR.”

Eren stood frozen for a second, the implications of Levi’s decision crashing over him. Armin’s eyes darkened, his frustration palpable. “Are you kidding me?” he seethed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It was Armin who thought of it; he should get the surgery,” Eren stated, trying to be fair. He knew the situation was precarious - Armin would now only think that Eren was being scrubbed in because he had slept with Levi. 

“Good. Thank you, Arlert,” Levi replied curtly, “but I’m taking Jaeger.” And with that, he strode away into the operating room, leaving behind a stunned Armin who felt a mix of indignation and hurt.

“Armin…” Eren called out, but Armin was already walking away, shoulders tense. 

“You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark,” Armin whipped around snapped back at Eren.

“I'm not -,” Eren began.

Armin cut him off viciously, “Oh yes you are. Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm gooey places. No, screw you. I don't get picked for surgeries because I slept with my boss, and I didn't get into med school because I have a famous father. You know, some of us have to earn what we get. Just go - go and do your surgery with Dr. Ackerman. I’ll find my own surgery where I don’t have to suck dick to just get into the OR.” 

The words struck Eren like a physical blow. Stunned, he stepped back as if Armin had pushed him. He couldn’t find a rebuttal, couldn’t muster any defense. All he could do was watch as Armin’s face flushed red with rage and disappointment. Eren was left there in the hallway, stunned. Deep down, he knew Armin was right - his connection with Levi was one of the primary contributing factors to his selection to participate in this surgery.

“Jaeger,” Levi Ackerman’s voice sliced through the chatter of nurses prepping for the surgery as he stepped back into the hallway. It seemed that he hadn’t heard the exchange between Armin and him. “Are you ready?”

Eren swallowed hard. “Dr. Ackerman, about this whole-”

“Stop,” Levi interrupted, his sharp gaze pinning Eren in place. “We’re doing this. You’ve earned your spot in the OR, whether you like it or not.”

Levi's expression remained unchanged, but Eren caught the slightest flicker of encouragement in his eyes. He felt a knot tightening in his stomach; guilt clawed at him relentlessly. Without saying a word, he turned to scrub in for the surgery, drowning in a sea of confusion and resentment.

As they stood together in the washroom in front of the surgical room, Eren felt an inexplicable pang of curiosity. A lump formed in his throat making his voice falter as he asked, “Uh… Dr. Ackerman, did you choose me for the surgery because I… you know, because of us? I mean… did you choose me for the surgery because I slept with you?” he asked, attempting to break the tension as he suited up. He couldn’t shake the anxiety coursing through him, and his words came out in a stammer.

Levi’s expression remained impassive, though his eyebrows seem to raise slightly. “Yes.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air. Eren’s heart dropped at the admission; Levi’s straightforwardness was terrifying. “I’m kidding,” Levi added, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Eren sighed, relief washing over him, but Levi’s face quickly shifted back to seriousness. “I chose you because you deserve this opportunity. You have skills, Eren. You saved Petra’s life on your first day. That speaks volumes more than anything else.”

Eren felt a surge of determination swell within him, counteracting the turmoil left by Armin. “I’m not going to scrub in for surgery. You should ask Armin. He really wants it. And he’s so much more qualified.” The guilt twisted in his stomach.

Levi crossed his arms, a gesture that always seemed to radiate authority. “I’ll talk to him. You need to focus on this surgery. Arlert will come around. This is your opportunity, Eren. Don’t squander it.”

Eren nodded, finally meeting Levi’s eyes, finding an unexpected sense of reassurance in them. “I just feel bad for Armin. I mean, he knows… about us. I don’t want him to think I slept my way into surgery.”

“That’s not what this is,” Levi said firmly. “And it’s not what he thinks either. You two need to talk, clear the air.”

“I don’t think Armin will want to speak to me, or that he will understand,” Eren replied, anxiety creeping into his voice. “He probably feels betrayed.”

Levi crossed his arms, his demeanor shifting slightly. “He will understand, Eren. But it’s not going to happen if you keep avoiding the conversation. After this surgery, I’ll talk to him first so that he can hear my side of the argument and understand the situation better. He will understand, Eren.”

Eren met Levi’s gaze, searching for reassurance in those dark eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so. He’s your seems like he's your friend, Eren. Plus, he’s also going to be spending possibly the next seven years with you as your peer. He’ll listen.”

Taking a deep breath, Eren nodded again. Okay. I’ll talk to him after the surgery too. But what if he hates me?”

Levi stepped closer, lowering his voice. “He won’t hate you. Just be honest with him. That’s all you can do.”

The surgery began, and for hours, they worked in a rhythm, the flow of Levi’s precise movements guiding Eren through the intricate steps of the procedure. As time passed, Eren found his confidence growing. He started to anticipate Levi’s needs, handing him instruments and providing support as they navigated the delicate task at hand. With each successful maneuver, a sense of camaraderie blossomed between them, overshadowing the initial tension of the moment.

Meanwhile, Armin watched from the gallery, his heart heavy. He had hoped to be by Levi’s side for this important moment. The ache of jealousy surged within him, sharper with every precise movement Eren made. He could see the way Levi’s gaze softened just slightly as he instructed Eren, a tenderness reserved for those he trusted most. Armin bit his lip, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, feeling like an outsider in what should have been a shared milestone. As the surgery progressed, Armin watched from the gallery room, the large glass window separating him from the action. He felt a pang of disappointment as he observed the camaraderie between Levi and Eren, a chemistry that extended beyond mere professional duty. Armin’s heart sank, the sterile environment amplifying his sense of isolation. He stayed, silent and forlorn, until the procedure came to a close, the clock ticking away the minutes as he processed the events unfolding in front of him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Levi declared, “We’re done.” Relief washed over them as the surgical team began to close up the patient. Eren let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a smile creeping onto his face. They had done it together.

Once the patient was stabilized and transferred to recovery, Levi stepped out of the operating room, the weight of the world still resting on his shoulders. He found Armin waiting just outside, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Once they were scrubbed off and the post-operative checks were underway, Levi stepped out into the gallery room. He spotted Armin lingering there, still lost in his thoughts, staring blankly at the now-closed door of the operating room. The disappointment etched on Armin’s face tugged at something inside Levi. He wiped his hands dry and approached the glass, his expression unreadable.

“Arlert,” Levi called out, his voice steady but softened by an undertone of concern. “Come here.”

Armin hesitated but eventually stepped into the small space that connected the gallery to the main operating room. He crossed his arms, a defensive gesture, and met Levi’s eyes, his expression a mixture of relief and lingering disappointment.

“I know you think you should have been in there. But please, do not fault me for choosing Jaeger. I had my reasons.”

“I know,” Armin replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to be. But…I - I think I understand why you chose Eren.”

Levi turned to Armin, crossing his arms. “You think this is about Eren and I? That I would jeopardize a patient’s life for that?”

Armin opened his mouth to respond, but Levi cut him off. “Eren didn’t even know me before last night.” Levi rearranged himself, leaning against the wall with an intensity that made Armin feel exposed. “I chose Eren because he is the main surgical intern on Petra Ral’s case. I chose Eren for his skill, Arlert, not for anything else.” Levi stepped closer, his expression softening further. “I chose Eren because I need someone I can trust to keep up with the demands of this job. You know that, right?”

“But... I thought - “ Armin stammered, feeling small under Levi’s piercing gaze.

“Don’t - Rumors are often just misinterpreted thoughts morphed from insecurity, anger, and jealousy, Arlert. I know how this place works. Gossip can destroy careers, and you’re contributing to it. Eren’s reputation as a surgeon is built on his talent, not on some scandal of him. The same goes for me”

Armin felt his stomach churn with guilt. He had let his insecurities cloud his judgment. “I didn’t know the whole story,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Levi’s expression softened slightly. “Sometimes, it’s easy to jump to conclusions. I’ve seen it happen before. Take a step back, and think before you accuse someone, especially someone you can call a friend.”

Armin shuffled around in his spot, contemplating Levi’s words and his newfound revelations of their history.

“If it offers you any consolation Armin,” Levi paused, his expression softening slightly. “That one night stand should have turned me off from choosing him. Since he kicked me out of his place after, I should have been in my right mind to kick him out of the surgery.”

Armin let out a shaky breath, a mix of gratitude and frustration swirling inside him. “I just… I don’t know. It felt like a betrayal, even if it wasn’t. I’m happy for Eren, but…”

“It was a heat of the moment jealousy,” Levi interrupted, his tone more understanding now. “I get it. Been there, done that. But I want you to know you can scrub into any of the next high-profile surgeries. You’ll have first pickings I promise. I’ll speak to the other attendings and let them know. Anyone would be glad to have you on their case.”

The promise hung in the air, and a flicker of hope ignited in Armin’s chest. “Really?” he asked, incredulous.

“Really,” Levi confirmed, his gaze steady. “You’re more than capable, and I don’t want you to feel sidelined. You’ll have your chance.”

“Thank you,” Armin said, the words coming out with an earnestness that made Levi’s heart feel lighter. “I appreciate it. I’ll do my best. This means a lot.”

Levi’s gaze softened. “Now, go find Eren. Talk to him. You both need to reconcile.”

Armin took a deep breath, nodding resolutely. “Yeah, I will.”

As he turned to leave, Levi called out one last time, “And Arlert? Next time, don’t hesitate to speak up. Your voice matters in that room just as much as anyone else’s.” Levi studied him for a moment, and the intensity of his gaze felt disarming. “Life isn’t fair, Arlert. But you have your own strengths. Focus on those and improve where you need to. You’re a valuable member of this team.”

Armin paused, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I will. Thanks, Dr. Ackerman.”

As he returned to the interns’ locker room at the end of the forty-eight-hour shift, he spotted Eren sitting slumped against the wall, his eyes half-closed, an empty soda can rolling around at his feet. The sight of Eren, hair tousled, and scrubs stained, sparked a flicker of empathy in Armin. He walked over and, for a moment, hesitated before speaking.

“Hey, Eren,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Eren looked up, blinking as if coming out of a dream, surprised Armin was talking to him after the near betrayal. “Oh, hey, Armin. You’re still awake?”

“I could say the same for you,” Armin replied, crossing his arms. “I guess we’re both running on fumes.”

Eren chuckled lightly, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, I really should get some sleep. You look like crap.”

Armin feigned offense, a smile creeping onto his face. “I look better than you.”

Eren snorted. “It’s not possible. You don’t look like you got fucked in more ways than one.”

A wave of warmth flooded Armin’s cheeks. “Fair point.”

They both laughed, the tension from the shift melting away in the shared moment. Armin felt a shift in the air, a reconciliation that had been brewing since Levi’s talk.

“Listen, I wanted to say,” Armin started, hesitating as he searched for the right words. “I was jealous when Levi picked you for the surgery. I thought it meant… something else. I’m sorry. I misunderstood everything. I thought-”“

Eren raised an eyebrow, his expression softening. “I get it. But it’s not like that between us. I mean, we both know how hard Dr. Ackerman is on us. He sees potential in you, too.”

“Yeah, he just told me that,” Armin admitted, feeling lighter. “I should have known better.” There was a brief pause before Armin continued, curiosity getting the better of him. “So he told me you kicked him out after…?”

“Not my finest moment,” Eren admitted, “But who knew that he’d end up being my boss? Talk about awkward.” 

“That’s a bummer.”

Eren shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning up. “We don’t have to do that thing where I say something, and then you say something, and then somebody cries, and there’s like a moment…”

“I agree, yuck,” Armin said, feeling a wave of camaraderie wash over him.

“Good. You should get some sleep,” Eren said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “You look like crap.”

“Right back at you,” Armin shot back, grinning.

“Alright, see you next shift, Armin,” Eren said, pushing himself off the wall, stretching one last time before heading toward the exit.

“See you, Eren,” Armin replied, watching as his colleague disappeared down the corridor.

Chapter Text

With a sigh, Eren made his way to the locker room. He could already feel the weight of exhaustion pressing on his shoulders; no more than twenty-four hours after his first shift of the week, he was back at the hospital for another marathon -  it would be another thirty-six-hour shift before most of the interns would be released late on Friday evening. 

He changed into his scrubs. Then he reached into his backpack and pulled out a simple looking flyer and tacked up the sign onto the cork board in the shared space: ‘Roommates Wanted. Must be compatible, clean, and tolerant. Everyone welcome’. Eren stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was direct and hopefully would garner interest from the other interns or hospital staff.

As he left the locker room, a sense of nervous anticipation washed over him. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. After a whirlwind of patients, frantic calls, and adrenaline, returning home to countless nights spent alone in his childhood home had begun to feel suffocating and isolating. It didn’t help that he had grown accustomed to being around others - whether it be in medical school, at the hospital, or even out and around town. As Hannes pointed out, Eren thrived on social interactions, and Eren wanted a piece of that lively energy at home as well. So Eren had decided it was time to make some changes in his life, starting with finding some roommates. He could hardly recall the last time he heard laughter or the comforting chatter of people in the home; instead, the silence of living alone was deafening. 

“Eren, you can’t be serious!” Sasha Braus exclaimed as she bounced into the locker room, her usual boisterous energy filling the space. “You’re looking for roommates?”

“That’s what the sign says, Sasha,” Eren replied. 

“Why the need for roommates, Eren?” Sasha chirped away excitedly, talking at a million miles per minute. “You’ll have a blast living with me! We’ll go grocery shopping, I’ll make the best meals, and you’ll never be lonely again!”

“No offense Sasha,” Eren replied, shaking his head. “But I’m afraid for my grocery bill if I become roommates with you.”

“Hey! I’ll buy my own food! she insisted, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to!”

“Exactly. No,” Eren shot her down. 

As the other interns noticed the sign, Eren was barraged with questions and requests to be roommates. Each intern struck a nerve with Eren - one seemed too messy, one seemed too loud, and one wanted to move in with their significant other. Frustrated and wanting some peace, Eren spotted Annie, Jean, and Armin leaning against the lockers, engaged in a discussion, and made his way over to them.

“Why do you put up posters for roommates if you don’t want roommates?” Armin asked, tilting his head, as they observed the chaos of the locker room.

“I do want roommates,” Eren replied, slightly exasperated. “But not roommates I already spend a hundred hours a week with.”

Annie gave Eren an incredulous look, as if she misheard Eren. “So you posted a flyer in a place where you spend more than half of your week?” 

“Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through,” Eren conceded.

Armin and Jean exchanged a brief look between themselves, which Eren caught. “I’m guessing you also want to live together too?”

Annie rolled her eyes as she answered separate from them. “No thanks. But you’re bringing bribes now?” she remarked, eyeing the coffee cup in his hand, which she assumed was meant for their resident Mikasa. She could smell the telltale sign of the mocha syrup, and no one else on the floor drank mocha lattes except for her. “It's not going to work you know.”

Jean ignored Annie’s attempts to shift the conversation, chiming in, “I need a place to live. My mom irons my scrubs. I have to get out of there!”

“It’s not a bribe, it’s just a mocha latte,” Eren insisted, feeling the heat of their scrutiny. “I just want two total strangers who I don’t have to talk to or be nice to.

Armin’s face lit up. “I can cook! And I can clean! I’ll leave you alone, let you be.”

Just as Eren was going to respond, Mikasa entered the scene, her presence commanding immediate attention. “Kirstein, you’re running the code team; Jaeger, take the trauma patients. Arlert, deliver the weekend labs to the patients; Leonhart, you’re on sutures,” she ordered, as if reciting a mantra.

Eren seized the opportunity to voice his request. “Dr. Mikasa, I was hoping to assist you in the OR today, maybe do a minor procedure? How about some coffee?”

“If he gets to cut, I want to cut too,” Annie said, narrowing her eyes at Eren.

“Yeah, me too!” Armin added eagerly.

Jean, trying to fit into the crowd’s enthusiasm, said, “I wouldn’t mind another shot if everybody else is…”

“Stop talking! No one is scrubbing in,” Mikasa barked, cutting through their excitement. “You’re interns. Every intern wants to perform their next surgery; that’s not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whining. You know what will make me look happy? Having the code team staffed, having the trauma patients answered, having the weekend labs delivered, and having someone down in the Pit doing the sutures.”

She took the mocha latte from Eren’s hand, raising an eyebrow at him. “Mocha latte?” Eren nodded. “No one holds a scalpel until I’m so happy I’m Mary freakin’ Poppins. And do I look happy right now?”

The collective silence was a resounding negative. Armin nervously cleared his throat. Jean swallowed hard. Annie just stared, unblinking. Eren looked at Mikasa, slightly expectant, but shook his head no.

 ”Good. Now do your tasks.” Seeing none of the interns moving, she commanded, “Why are you four all still standing there? Move!”

As they walked away, Annie leaned in towards Eren, a smirk playing on her lips. “Mocha latte my ass,” she muttered. “That was a bribe, and you know it.”

“It can’t be a bribe if it didn’t work, can it?” Eren shrugged. “Besides, it was just a nice gesture.”

Annie rolled her eyes at him. “Keep telling yourself that, hotshot.”

Meanwhile, lagging a few paces behind, Jean nudged Armin with his elbow, his eyes following Eren. “You know,” Jean began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “maybe we should bribe Eren.”

Armin blinked. “Bribe Eren? For what?”

“To become his roommates.” Jean grimaced as he thought of his current living situation, “Man, I swear, one more ‘Jean, did you take out the trash?’ or ‘Jean, did you wash the dishes?’, I’m gonna lose it. Seriously, I can't live with my mom anymore.”

Armin considered this for a second, a thoughtful frown on his face. “ I don’t know, Jean. Eren doesn't seem like the guy to accept bribes.”

“Clearly he’s not above offering them,” Jean countered, scoffing. “Besides, what do we have to lose by trying?” Jean's eyes sparkled with mischievous calculation.

Mikasa, sipping her latte, watched the interns from a short distance away. It was a good latte, albeit a little too sweet. So no, she still wasn't happy. But it helped. Maybe Eren might actually get to scrub into surgery today. Just maybe.

As Eren was wrapping up the last of his trauma patients, he found himself slipping into the elevator, where he bumped into Levi, the last person he wanted to see right now.  Sure, working with the man had been less awkward now. They had a terse, awkward conversation after the first shift. A mutual agreement, swiftly made, to be civil. Professional. To pretend that their history simply didn’t exist. But what was “professional” when the man could barely keep his eyes off you, when every glance from him felt like a loaded question?

Levi stood there, perfectly pressed scrubs, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly raised, a picture of immaculate disapproval. “Jaeger,” Levi greeted, his tone curt. “I heard about your ‘Roommates Wanted’ sign. You’re an idiot.”

Eren resisted the urge to sigh. Of course, Levi had heard of it within the morning it’d been put up. “It’s just a sign. And I’m not an idiot. My place is too big, and honestly, I’m just looking for some company to fill the space. It’s too quiet.”

Levi leaned against the elevator wall. “Too bad I already have my living arrangements figured out. Otherwise, we could be roommates, and I could fill the space.”

A familiar flush of something crept up his neck. It was definitely not unwelcome, but he still forced a strained chuckle, unsure of how to react to Levi’s blunt flirtations. “Uhhh, no thanks. I’m looking for strangers specifically to avoid… complications.” He gestured vaguely between them with the patient folders clasped in his hands, their history hanging heavy in the air. “We talked about this, Levi. We agreed.”

The elevator doors slid open on the second floor, but no one got on. Levi didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on Eren. “You’re an idiot,” he repeated, the curtness returning, “because you hung those flyers up at work, Jaeger. To your coworkers.” Levi pushed off the wall and took a step closer, the air in the small space suddenly thickening.  “And tell me again, what was it we agreed on? Professionalism in public. But right now, we’re alone in an elevator, aren’t we?”

Eren could only manage a small, jerky nod. His hands felt clammy, his heart doing a frantic drum solo against his ribs. He tucked them into the pockets of his scrub pants, fidgeting with the drawstring. Eren felt his eyes assessing him, and he felt exposed as his discomfort was under Levi’s scrutiny.

“Look, Eren,” Levi said, his tone softening, just barely, enough to make Eren look up. The use of his first name sent a shiver down his spine. “If you’re uncomfortable, if you don’t want more, you can just tell me. At any time.” His eyes bore into Eren’s, unwavering, but his expression was surprisingly neutral. “I’m not going to force anything.”

Eren swallowed as his heart lurched, completely caught off guard by the unexpected consideration. More. They hadn’t explicitly agreed that they couldn’t be anything more, just that they wouldn’t be, not at work at least. He did still like Levi, damn it. A lot. Too much. The week of polite distance had done nothing to erase the memory of Levi’s hands on him, the taste of his skin, the unexpected tenderness. But the thought of blurring professional lines once more was terrifying. He was afraid. Afraid of screwing up his career, the workplace scandal, of getting hurt, of… everything. How could he possibly navigate this? He couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Eren managed, the words a little choked. “For being so…understanding.” He cleared his throat, before he looked at Levi properly then, seeing the genuine lack of pressure in his eyes. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just… unsure of what I want with you right now.”

Levi simply nodded, a subtle tilt of his head, and didn’t press.

“But I do know what I want when it comes to my roommate, and I’m not looking for someone who already gets to see me in scrubs every day,” he repeated for the umpteenth time, trying to shift the conversation back to the original topic.

Levi smirked, that infuriatingly charming smirk that always seemed to catch Eren off guard. “Well, what if they want to see you out of your scrubs every day?” he teased, the previous tense atmosphere disappearing almost instantly.

Eren felt his cheeks flush slightly, a betraying heat that spread across his neck. He swallowed. “I’m not going out with you,” he shot back, trying to keep his tone firm, even though he heard the slight tremor in it. Part of him wondered, as it always did, why he had to sound so resolute when a far more interesting, dangerous part of him whispered, why not?

“Did I ask you to go out with me just now?” Levi paused, his steel eyes seemingly pinning Eren in place. The mischief didn't quite leave his eyes, but it was overlaid with something more serious, more direct. “I mean, do you want to go out with me?”

Eren stammered, caught off guard. “I’m not dating you. And I’m definitely not sleeping with you again.”

Levi’s expression didn't falter. He simply raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “Did I ask you to sleep with me again?” he countered, his voice smooth, almost too calm.

“No, but… you’re my boss now!” Eren blurted out, another flush spreading across his cheeks. “Do you ask all your employees this question?”

“No, I only ask this to interns that I previously slept with.” Levi’s smirk widened. “And plus, I’m your boss’s boss.”

Eren’s jaw clenched. This was exactly what he didn’t want. This playful, dangerous banter that made his stomach flip. “Yeah, but you’re also supposed to be my teacher,” Eren insisted, crossing his arms defiantly. “What have you taught me besides how not to navigate workplace relations?”

“I’m teaching you a valuable lesson.” Levi stepped closer, the playful glint in his eyes unfading. “So then, I’m your boss, I’m your teacher and I could be yours. I guess I’m your everything.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Eren shot back, trying to inject as much disdain as possible into his voice, warring with the inconvenient flutter in his chest.

“Ridiculous, maybe. But you like it.” Levi’s tone shifted slightly, the playful banter now laced with something heavier.

Eren rolled his eyes, a desperate attempt to feign indifference, though his heart raced at Levi’s audacity.  “You’re sexually harassing me,”  he replied, a hint of a smile escaping his lips, betraying the actual meaning of the phrase.

Levi tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I’m riding an elevator. But we could be riding more.”

Eren groaned, planting his hands on his hips. “Look, we talked about this. The line is drawn. There’s a big line.” He held up the folder, as if to physically manifest the barrier.

“So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?” Levi’s voice was low, teasing, completely undermining Eren’s attempt at authority. His gaze dropped to Eren’s lips. “Because I’m pretty sure I already left my mark on you, didn’t I?”

Eren stared at him, frustration battling inside him with an undeniable thrill. He was so infuriated, so flustered, so unbelievably attracted to Levi’s arrogance and pull. In a split-second decision, he dropped the folders he had been holding, leaned in, and kissed Levi. It was a brief moment, electrifying and unplanned. Levi was caught off guard but quickly fell into the rhythm of the kiss, responding with a fervor that sent a spark through Eren. The moment lingered, time seemingly frozen.

Then, with a soft ding, the doors opened onto the top floor.

Eren broke the kiss abruptly, his face aflame with embarrassment. He crouched down, scrambling to pick up his scattered folders, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Levi stood in the doorway, a bemused expression on his face, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. “We’ll talk later?” he called after Eren, who was already darting out of the elevator, cheeks burning hot.

Eren walked away, his eyes focused straight on the end of the hallway. What in the actual hell was that? The ghost of Levi’s lips on his served as a tingling reminder. One minute he was trying to maintain professional boundaries, and the next, he was initiating and full-on making out with his boss's boss in a public elevator. He’d meant to be firm. He’d meant to be distant. He’d meant to ensure their one-night stand remained just that: a secret of his past, not a looming awkwardness in his new career. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and exhilaration, and as much as he tried to push away his thoughts of Levi, the tantalizing image lingered and the unspoken promise of what could be. 

But he couldn’t think about Levi right now - he had cases to solve, patients to fix, and an angry resident to please.

The hospital lobby was abuzz with the early morning chatter of interns and nurses. The weekend had brought the surgical interns a much-needed reprieve from the rigors of surgery, but now they were gearing up for another week of sleepless nights and relentless learning. Jean leaned back against the cool, hard leather of a waiting room chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the news on the television. Armin, with his bright, inquisitive eyes, flicked through a book on surgical procedures while occasionally peering over the edge to see the images flashing on the screen. 

“Have you heard from Eren about his rooming situation?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Armin nodded, his interest piqued. “Yeah, he said he’s still deciding. It’s been a week though and still no answer. I think he’s overthinking it. He can’t keep avoiding it forever.”

“I know - I need to get out as soon as possible,” Jean replied, “I can’t take the nagging from my mother. She keeps asking me if I met a nice girl from the hospital to take home… As if she forgot that I told her I swing both ways.”

“Same here,” Armin sympathized, “I mean, as much as I love my grandfather, I need to get out -find someone youthful to live with!”

Jean chuckled, nudging Armin playfully. “You think you can handle living with someone like Eren? The guy's a ticking time bomb half the time.”

As if on cue, Eren entered the lobby, a tray of fresh coffee and maybe another mocha latte in his hands, steam curling up into the air. “Hey guys! Coffee?” he called out, his voice a mix of cheer and exhaustion.

Jean grinned, taking a cup and handing the others to Annie and Armin. “Thanks! So, any news on the living situation?”

Eren rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of frustration mingling with his uncertainty. “I’m still deciding. I just need some time.”

“Dude, it’s been a like a week already,” Annie replied, her eyes locked onto the steaming coffee, “Either break the news or don’t string them along.”

Eren opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, chaos erupted. An ambulance squad rushed into the lobby, the sound of wheels screeching against the floor echoing through the hall. A man on the gurney was yelling, his voice cutting through the morning chatter like a knife.

“Get me the chief! You’re all amateurs!” he barked, his face flushed with anger and frustration.

Annie, rushing up from her chair, quickly approached the gurney, her brow furrowing as she looked at the chart. “Patient’s name...” she began, her voice trailing off as she processed the information.

Eren, however, didn’t need to hear the name. His tanned skin turned as ghostly pale as it could, the coffee tray slipping from his fingers and spilling against the floor. The sight of his father, Grisha Jaeger, a world-renowned surgeon, sprawled on the gurney, was enough to steal the breath from his lungs. Eren stood there frozen, as if he were in a theatre and there was a spotlight focused on him. 

“Jaeger!” Mikasa, who had been busy reviewing another patient’s file, looked up from the folder. Her frustration spilled over as she abandoned the manilla folder on a spare cart and grabbed some paper towels from said cart to help clean up the mess. “Get it together!”

Eren didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on his father, who continued to shout, but this time aimed directly in Eren’s direction. “What the hell are you doing here? I’ve told you countless times not to bother me when I’m at work!”

A chill settled over the lobby as they looked between Eren and Grisha, noting the slight familial similarities. Eren instinctively stepped back, wanting to melt into the wall behind him.

“Annie, what’s his name?” Mikasa asked urgently, eyes darting between Annie, Eren, and Grisha as she tried to confirm her suspicions.

Annie hesitated, her fingers gripping the chart tightly. The atmosphere shifted; there was something heavy in the air, an unspoken weight of history and pain. “It’s Grisha Jaeger,” she finally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Eren’s father.”

A palpable silence filled the space, punctuated only by the harsh beeping of Grisha’s heart monitor as Eren’s world came crashing down. Jean and Armin exchanged worried glances, their earlier lighthearted banter evaporating in an instant. Eren remained frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, the world around him fading into a blur.

Mikasa’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Grisha? The Grisha Jaeger? The world-renowned Dr. Grisha Jaeger who won two Reiss Fritz’s?” she exclaimed, her mind racing to reconcile the image of the respected figure with the frantic man before her. “But… how can this be?”

Eren clenched his fists at his sides, both anger and fear bubbling beneath the surface. He had worked so hard to shield his father from the public eye, to protect the reputation of the man who had once been an icon in the medical field. “It’s complicated,” Eren finally managed to say, forcing the words past the knot in his throat. “He’s… he’s been sick for a while.”

There was a wave of hushed sympathy spreading through the lobby at the revelation, and Eren could only grip his hands tighter upon hearing the murmurs of pity.

“He’s not the diminished version of himself you think,” Eren interjected, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion as he indirectly addressed the crowd. “Yes, he’s my father. He’s still brilliant. Just… this illness - Alzheimer’s - it’s not him.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about your father before?” Armin questioned, concern etched on his face. “You could have asked for help!”

“Help?” Eren shot back, his voice rising. “And who would I go to for help? My non-existent family? The press? The staff here at Wall Sina?”

Eren’s heart sank, his throat tight as he admitted, “I barely wanted people to know that I was Grisha Jaeger’s son. If they did, they’d want to meet him, and then they’d see…this.” His voice cracked slightly, the words tinged with bitterness. “They’d see a shell of the legend that he once was.”

“Eren…” Armin began, but he waved him off, not wanting to delve deeper into the well of despair that threatened to engulf him.

As Grisha continued to shout, berating the staff and calling them incompetent, Eren slipped away, retreating behind a nearby wall. The sound of his father’s voice echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the strained relationship that had defined much of his life.

Jean took a step forward, his voice low. “Shouldn’t someone go talk to him?”

“No,” Mikasa replied quietly, shaking his head. “He needs space. This... this is complicated.”

Meeting Eren behind the corner, Mikasa directed, “You need to calm down. Come with me.”

Holding onto the crook of Eren’s arm, she navigated him back to the empty locker room. Eren sank onto the bench, trying to push the panic out of his mind. The world felt heavy, and the weight of his father’s distress was suffocating. He could hear the muffled voices of his fellow interns just outside the door, their concern for him palpable.

“Eren, are you okay?” Jean's voice rang through the wooden barrier, a mix of worry and uncertainty.

“Just give him space,” Mikasa said, her tone firm. She opened the door to come out, before closing the door to the locker room behind her, blocking the entrance as Jean, Annie, and Armin clamored outside to Eren. “He needs to breathe.”

“Seriously, guys,” Jean continued, his voice rising. “We can’t just leave him in there alone.”

“Shh!” Mikasa hissed. “Don’t you three have somewhere else to be?  I can always give you more work, if you need.”

The silent threat went over Jean’s head, as he prepared to retort. Annie placed her hand over Jean’s mouth to silence him, shooting him a glare as well, not wanting to face more trouble from Mikasa than necessary. “Let him be. We have patients to see.”

Before they turned to leave, Armin, always the empathetic one, broke the tense atmosphere. “Hey, Eren,” he called softly, “you know, um, my great-grandmother, she died with Alzheimer’s. It was tough, but…” His voice trailed off, unsure of where he was going.

Annie scoffed from the other side of the door, disbelief etched into her features. “My God, why would you say that? That’s not helpful!”

Eren couldn’t help but let out a small, bitter laugh despite the dread that churned in his stomach. The moment felt surreal, trapped between panic for his father and the awkward attempts of his friends to console him. The locker room felt like a sanctuary and a prison all at once, each breath he took filled with conflicting emotions.

“Eren, listen to me,” Mikasa said, her voice steady and calm. “Whatever is happening, you don’t have to go through it alone. We’re all here for you. But take your time, I’ll handle this.”

Mikasa took a deep breath before stepping into Room 619. She quickly tied her black hair back into a ponytail and took a deep breath, reminding herself of the professionalism she needed to uphold.  She had seen many patients in her time, but Grisha’s case hit her hard. This wasn’t the Dr. Grisha Jaeger from the medical world that she had come to idolize - this was simply Grisha Jaeger, the father of her intern Eren Jaeger, and a patient in the memory unit, his brilliance dimmed by the cruel fog of Alzheimer’s.

Beside her, Annie fidgeted nervously, glancing at the chart. “Can you believe this is actually happening? We're treating Grisha Jaeger,” she whispered, barely containing her excitement.

Mikasa shot her a stern look. “Focus, Leonhart. This isn't a fan meet-and-greet.”

The pair stepped into the room, standing at the foot of the bed as they assessed Grisha Jaeger who was now temporarily sedated. Grisha sat hunched over in his hospital bed, his once-vibrant eyes clouded with confusion. Despite his frail appearance, an undeniable intensity flickered within him, like a flame struggling against the winds of time. 

Mikasa introduced herself and Annie. “Good morning, Dr. Jaeger. I’m Dr. Mikasa Ackerman, and I’ll be examining you today. You may call me Dr. Mikasa. This here is my intern, Dr. Annie Leonhart. We will be the team to assist you today.”

At her introduction, Grisha looked up, his deep-set eyes flickering with recognition before fading into confusion. “Ah, Lala, Nana!” he exclaimed, his voice full of warmth and whimsy.

Mikasa furrowed her brow, unsure of who the names referred to. “Dr. Jaeger, I need to examine you. Can you please tell me where it hurts?”

“No, no! I don’t want to play doctor now!” Grisha protested, waving his hands animatedly. “I want to go home. I want to be with my family.”

Mikasa sighed, pulling up the chart again, hoping to refocus the examination. She had seen her fair share of Alzheimer patients to know they could be difficult to work with, especially those lost in their delusions. “Let’s see if we can take a look at your vitals, Dr. Jaeger,” she said, extending the stethoscope in her hands toward his chest.

Grisha recoiled from her impending touch, seemingly terrified of the metal instrument.

“Dr. Jaeger, I need to check your heartbeat,” Mikasa explained, slightly frustrated. She carefully attempted to place the stethoscope against his chest, this time successful as Grisha seemed oblivious. Instead, he shifted in the bed, his gaze drifting toward Annie. “Nana! You’re here!” he exclaimed, a bright smile cutting through the haze of confusion.

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Nana? My name is Annie,” she corrected gently, thinking that Grisha was mispronouncing her name. Grisha only chuckled, clearly lost in his own world. 

Mikasa leaned in closer to Annie, lowering her voice. “Just let him call you ‘Nana,’” she whispered. “It’s better for him to stay in his world. We don’t want to break his delusions; it could make him violent.” 

Annie nodded, the weight of Mikasa’s words settling heavily on her. She stood aside as she watched Mikasa continue her examination of Grisha, who was still lost in his thoughts. For a brief moment, she felt a swell of pity towards the man she too largely respected for pioneering the art of regenerative medicine. 

“Nana?” Grisha's eyes darted around the room, searching for a face he could no longer recall. His gaze skipped past Annie, focused on some distant point.

“I’m here, Dr. Jaeger,” Annie reassured him as she appeared in front of him once more, a mixture of sympathy and trepidation painted on her face.

“You’re not Nana.” Grisha’s breaths turned ragged, as he began shouting once more, lost in delirium, “Nana! Lala! Come back to me!”

“Doctor Jaeger,” Mikasa said, her tone gentle yet firm, as she tried to soothe a now heaving Grisha. “Please, just breathe. I need you to stay with me. We’re only here to help you.”

“Annie, can you get Grisha’s chart from the nightstand?” Mikasa instructed, gesturing toward the cluttered surface.

At the mention of the chart, Grisha’s demeanor shifted. His eyes, momentarily alight with clarity, locked onto Mikasa and Annie. “I can diagnose myself, you know,” he said, a spark of his old confidence returning. “What do you people know about me, complete amateurs!”

Annie reached for the chart, but Grisha's hand shot out, surprisingly quick for someone of his condition. “No! It’s mine!” He tugged it toward him, an unexpected strength radiating from his frail frame.

Mikasa, taken aback by his sudden assertiveness, watched as a tug-of-war ensued between him and Annie. “Dr. Jaeger, please,” she said, trying to remain calm. “This is important for your care.”

And as quick as the lucidity came, the lucidity left. Grisha’s eyes glazed over again, and he sank back into the whirlwind of confusion and panic. “Lala,” Grisha suddenly called, his voice laced with the remnants of familiarity and warmth, before descending back down into madness. “Where am I? I want to see my family. WHERE ARE THEY!?”

Mikasa turned to Annie, her resolve hardening.  “I think we need to page Eren. He might be able to calm him down.” She quickly grabbed the pager from her pocket and pressed the button for Eren. She was hoping that she could handle Grisha Jaeger by herself, but she realized that he was more trouble that initially thought. Maybe Eren could provide the grounding presence Grisha needed. “Stay with him, Annie,” she said, glancing back at the intern, whose expression had softened. “Talk to him. Remind him of the good times. I’ll be outside to warn Eren.”

Annie nodded, taking a step closer to Grisha, who was now mumbling about forgotten memories. “Nana,” he said, his voice trembling. “Where are you? I miss you. I’m sorry.”

“Ummm… Dr. Jaeger, it’s me An- … Nana,” she said softly, the weight of her words anchoring her to the moment. “You’re in the hospital right now, but your family loves you. Eren is on his way.”

At the mention of Eren’s name, Grisha’s eyes flickered again. “Eren?” he echoed, the name triggering a cascade of warmth in his chest. “My baby boy… he’s a good boy.”

Mikasa stood by the doorway of Grisha’s room, watching as Eren raced out from the elevator in a frantic manner, a worried look etched on his face. “What’s going on?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice. Eren could already hear Grisha's raised voice from outside the room, mingling with incoherent murmurs.

“Your father is having a rough time,” Mikasa said, motioning to Grisha, his gaze shifting as if he were seeing someone far away. “He needs you.”

Directing her attention to Annie, Mikasa motioned for her to leave the room to give the father and son a moment of time together. Eren stepped forward, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he approached his father. “Dad?” he called gently. “It’s Eren. I’m here.”

Grisha turned, his expression morphing into a mix of confusion and desperation. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the familiar face, but instead of recognizing his son, he shouted “Carla! Carla! You came back!”

A wave of sadness crashed over Eren, yet he nodded as if it made sense. “Yes, it’s me... Carla.” The name felt somber on his lips, a haunting reminder of a mother he could barely remember. Grisha had not spoken of her in years when he was lucid, but with the onset of the Alzheimer’s, the way his father clung to her memory struck Eren deeply.

“Let the doctors take care of you,” Eren urged, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “This is what Mom - I mean, I would want for you. She - I mean, we all would want you to get better.”

“Okay,” Grisha said resignedly, as Eren hugged him closely. “Love you, Carla.”

With tears framing his eyes, Eren walked toward the exit, whispering under his breath, “Love you too… dad.” He stepped out of the room, pulling the door to a close behind him only to see Mikasa leaning against the door, having heard the entire conversation. 

“Who is Carla?” she asked softly.

Eren's eyes stared blankly at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my mom.” The words hung heavy in the air, filled with the sorrow of a thousand unspoken memories. “Grisha never talked about her after… after she passed away when I was a kid in a car accident. Apparently, I looked too much like her, and I served as a painful reminder of her absence. But he only remembers her now... funny, isn’t it?”

Mikasa nodded slowly, piecing together the fragments of Eren’s past. “He calls you by her name. He’s forgotten who you are sometimes, hasn’t he?”

“Sometimes he remembers, more often than not he can’t remember me,” Eren admitted. 

“Was he more lucid the last time you saw him? Was he better then?”

“About three weeks ago. I went to see him the day before I started my internship.” His voice cracked slightly as he continued, “Told him that I finally was going to be a doctor - he just… I think maybe for a second, he knew who I was. But all he could talk about was his residency; he seems to be stuck in that time period.”

“Eren…” Mikasa began, but the words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken grief.

“Look,” Eren cut her off. “I can’t help but think that if he just remembered… If he knew who I was…” He trailed off, the weight of his unfulfilled expectations pressing down on him. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just a shadow,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “A shadow of my father’s success to everyone else, a shadow of my mother to him, and a shadow of what could be for myself.”

“Eren, listen to me,” Mikasa urged, her grip tightening on his arm. “You’re not -”

“Not what?” Eren sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. “My father? I know that.”

“No,” Mikasa stepped closer, her hand finding his arm, grounding him in a moment that felt both distant and painfully close. “I was going to say that you’re not alone in this and that it’s okay to feel this way. It’s a lot to bear. But your father needs you. Even if he doesn’t recognize you, you’re still his son.”

Eren nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured, feeling the familiar sting of helplessness. “But seeing him like this, sometimes it feels like I’m losing him all over again. I’m sorry -  I can’t be here.” He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, as if he could shut out the reality of the moment. “I can’t face this.”

Mikasa was just about to form a response but was promptly cut off as Grisha’s voice ripped through the door, a mix of confusion and urgency. “Doctor! Where are you? I need you!”

She turned back to face Eren. “Sorry, Eren, I’ve got to go.”

“Me too.”

Eren sat outside his father’s hospital room as he had some downtime during his shift, the stark white walls feeling cold and unwelcoming. He stared at the door as if willing it to open and reveal the father he once knew but he knew that he was naive to think everything would go back to the way it was. The news of his father’s secret being now revealed to the public disturbed his thoughts. Now that it was out there, everyone knew and Eren could not help but feel the overwhelming wave of sympathy and pity as the other hospital staff stared at him.  

Levi, the head surgeon on Grisha’s case (because of course, he was!) emerged from the room, chart in hand. Levi didn't say anything, just looked at him, and that look was enough. Eren pushed off the wall and approached him, his heart heavy with a mixture of dread and urgency.

“I heard about your father,” Levi said, glancing up. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but Eren could detect a hint of sympathy beneath the stoic demeanor. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, the secret’s out,” Eren replied, forcing a casualness he didn’t feel. The last thing he wanted was pity, even from Levi, who had seen him at his most vulnerable state just days before. Trying to keep his voice steady, Eren added,  “I didn’t want anyone to know, but… here we are.”

Levi nodded, the lines on his face deepening as he regarded Eren. “I respected Dr. Jaeger a lot. I knew him to be a remarkable doctor and a brilliant man.”

Eren’s eyes flickered with irritation. Clearly Levi did not know him well. He was not a brilliant man. A remarkable doctor, yes, but a brilliant man? No. Trying to reign in his anger, Eren simply responded, “Dr. Ackerman, you don’t have to do the thing, you know? The thing where you pity me.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, the phrase reminding him of their earlier, more intimate conversation. “Then you don’t have to call me Dr. Ackerman,” Levi replied, his tone lightening for a moment. “Especially right now, Eren. Don’t think of me as Dr. Ackerman but as Levi, as a friend.”

Eren shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want friendship from Levi right now, not when their confusing intimacy was but another breach against the walls he had built to protect his world from crumbling. “Dr. Ackerman,” he began, but Levi waved a hand dismissively.

“Dr. Ackerman,” Eren emphasized the professionalism again, his voice firm, , overriding Levi's attempt at familiarity. “I know I’m family so I can’t do anything about my father. But I - I can’t just do nothing all day while I wait for something. I want in on a surgical case.  And you owe me this.”

Levi paused, his dark eyes fixed on Eren. He slowly and deliberately lowered Grisha’s chart, resting it against his side, next to his thigh. It was a subtle gesture, perhaps, but it spoke volumes, as if Levi were removing the professional barrier, inviting a more personal exchange. “Is that so? Levi asked, his voice even. “Why, exactly, do I owe you. Eren?”

Eren met his gaze head-on. “You know why.”

“You’re not seriously trying to blackmail me over what I think you are, are you?” A flicker of something - disappointment, perhaps even disdain - crossed Levi’s face. “I didn’t think you would stoop that low, Jaeger.”

“It’s not about that!” Eren retorted, his voice sharply rising. His jaw tightened before he quickly lowered his voice, remembering where they were. “The Petra Ral case,” he stated, as if it were obvious. “You owe me from then.”

 Levi scoffed softly. “The horse girl case? I never owed you anything for that. I let you scrub in, didn’t I? If anything, I owed Arlert. Maybe you forgot that.”

“And that decision almost cost us our friendship,” Eren shot back, the old anger flaring.

“Friendship?” Levi’s brow furrowed as his expression became slightly amused. “You two had only met the day before. Barely the start of friends, if anything.”

“So? You and I met only the night before and still managed to sleep together,” Eren shot back, the words tumbling out before he could think. “So it was perfectly possible that Armin and I could be fast friends.”

A cynical twist played on Levi’s lips. “Regardless, Eren, you telling Arlert about… us… well that was the stupid decision that almost cost you your friendship. Extra stupid considering Arlert could have blabbed to the whole hospital by now.”

Eren felt a flush creep up his neck, embarrassment stinging at how easy it had been for him to open up. He kept thinking about why he told Armin, telling himself it was just because he wanted nothing more to just shut the blonde up after his incessant questioning. “But he didn’t, did he?” he mumbled, then lifted his chin, defiant conviction returning. “I knew I could trust Armin for some reason. He seemed innocent and loyal enough.”

“It’s easy to find sheep in wolf’s clothing, Eren,” Levi replied, a knowing, almost weary look in his gaze. “Rarer to find someone like Arlert in the world of medicine. But the fact that Arlert didn’t blab is a testament to his character, not your genius in judging him. And certainly not something that puts me in your debt.”

Eren shot him a look which told Levi that Eren strongly disagreed. Regardless of whether or not Eren disagreed, Levi didn’t care.

“Look,” Levi continued, moving closer to Eren, the professional distance evaporating, “I’ve more than paid that back by letting you scrub in on multiple surgeries since then. So if there’s anything that anyone owes one another, it’s me - I deserve an explanation for the kiss in the elevator the last week.”

Eren flinched, briefly looking away. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I’m not going to force you to talk about it, especially now, given the circumstance,” Levi conceded, glancing towards the closed door of Grisha’s room. “But we do need to talk. Eventually.”

Eren sighed, a long, weary sound of defeat and reluctant acceptance. “Fine.

Levi reached out, hesitating for a moment, then gently placed a hand on Eren’s arm. But more importantly, we need to talk about this.” He squeezed Eren’s arm lightly. “About how you’re feeling. About your father. About why you think you need to throw yourself into an OR right now instead of allowing yourself to feel this. You need to rest, not go into the OR.”

Eren wrestled with himself, his gaze falling from Levi’s intense eyes to the hand on his arm. The touch, unexpected and gentle, sent a shiver through him, but the concern, disguised as a mild warning, struck Eren. “So that’s it? You’re just going to make me sit here? You’re going to let me waste away while my father is undergoing… whatever he’s undergoing, and you won’t even give me the professional outlet I need?” His frustration was palpable.

Levi’s thumb brushed lightly over Eren’s sleeve, trying to soothe his temper. “Eren, I’m not questioning your choices, but I need you to understand that scrubbing into a surgery right now, with your mind clearly elsewhere, would be reckless. For you, for the patient, for the team.”

“Just… just let me scrub in. Please, Levi.” Eren rasped, finally looking up, his gaze still clouded but less defiant. “I’ll never ask you for anything like this again, so…” He trailed off again, the silence hanging heavy between them.

Levi regarded him with a mixture of sympathy and consideration, but before he could respond, a loud crash echoed from inside the room. Eren’s heart dropped as he rushed towards the sound, pushing the door open just in time to see his father throw a pillow across the room, narrowly missing Mikasa.

“Get out!” Grisha shouted, his voice trembling with anger and confusion. “Don’t give me that look, that sad little soulful puppy routine. I know it by heart, CARLA! And I’m over it. I don’t want to hear about your day or your life. My work is what counts! It’s what pays for this house! It pays for you, and it pays for Eren and your precious lifestyle! So why don’t you just leave me alone and let me do it! Eren may think he needs you but I sure as hell don’t!”

The words sliced through Eren like a knife, and he felt his breath catch in his throat - his father, a man who once fought for the sick and suffering, now reduced to this angry shell, lashing out at the people who cared for him. Levi regarded Eren, who was frozen at Grisha’s outburst, seeming to understand the complex dynamics at play. From his brief interactions with said man and the conversation with Eren, Levi understood a part of Grisha that made him tick - his ego, his title, his glory. No matter what Grisha forgot or remembered, he seemed to think of himself as that doctor whose contributions streamlined medicine’s advancement.

Levi's thoughts drifted to Eren. No wonder Eren never brought up the man in conversation, though it seemed like it would have made a great boasting point to be the son of a legend in their field. How had he grown up with Grisha as a father? The unending love of a parent had warped into a struggle for validation and achievement, for recognition in a world where the man who once inspired admiration was now a specter of anger and sorrow.  Eren’s relationship with his father was clearly strained, and it was evident that Grisha’s erratic behavior was only exacerbating the situation.

Levi turned to Eren, his expression sympathetic. “You know, if you really want to assist in surgery, I can make it happen. Tell Smith I’m assigning you to assist him - no exceptions. I’m sure he will understand given that everyone here at Wall Sina has heard about the news.”

Eren cringed at the last sentence, yet gratitude poured out of him as he addressed Levi personally. “Thank you, Levi. I promise I’ll make the most of it.”

The professional strictness momentarily yielded to something softer, more personal. “But don’t think that me allowing you to scrub in means we’re not going to talk. We’re still going to talk, Eren. And not just about surgical cases.” He held Eren’s gaze, a clear promise in his eye.

Mikasa turned to Levi, her brows furrowed with concern. “Dr. Ackerman, can you help me with Grisha? I need to do a blood pressure test.”

Levi raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh, a standard exam. You did go to med school and finish your internship, right?”

Mikasa admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “It’s not that simple. He keeps insisting I’m his wife Carla, and he gets so angry at me. I can’t get close without him throwing things or lashing out.”

“Fine.”

Together, they approached Grisha, whose eyes darted between confusion and recognition. “Dr. Jaeger,” Mikasa began, her voice steady, “We’re here to check your blood pressure,” She spoke softly, moving cautiously, as if navigating a minefield.

Grisha’s gaze hardened. “I told you to get out Carla!” he roared, as he grabbed the pillow from behind his back and prepared to throw it at Mikasa. Mikasa shot Levi a look that screamed, “I told you so.”

Levi stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Grisha’s shoulder. “Grisha, please. Let us do our jobs, so you can go back to yours. Mikasa, hand me his information.” The team made sure not to say the ‘C-word’ following Grisha’s prior outburst; nobody wanted to risk bothering and upsetting him again. 

Mikasa handed him the file from her clipboard. Levi stood with arms crossed, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he stared at the chart in his hand, flipping through the pages of Grisha Jaeger’s medical history. 

“So remind me of the case context, Mikasa,” Levi said, his tone clipped. 

Mikasa took a deep breath, steadying herself as she began to summarize, “Patient fell and became violent and confused. It seemed that he had a stroke, so the nursing home sent him here to see if there were further underlying issues. Nurses noted that he had an uncoordinated gait and trouble balancing. He also exhibited symptoms of vomiting and dizziness.”

Levi raised an eyebrow at that last part,  his expression shifting to concern. “Alzheimer’s can cause balance problems, but why wasn’t he brought in earlier when they noted the vomiting? That’s not exclusive to Alzheimer’s.”

“It seems that the nurses at the nursing home just attributed everything to Alzheimer's,” Mikasa replied. 

Levi sighed. Occam's razor says that the simplest is the most likely, but that was never the case with the brain. “It could be possible complications from his Alzheimer’s, but I want to rule out other factors. We need to be thorough. Page Leonhart to get me the scans and a CT,” Levi commanded. His years of experience had clued him in that this was most likely the result of a tumor within the brain, masking its symptoms behind that of the obvious illness. 

Annie arrived with the scans with a whisper of urgency, and as the three of them reviewed the images on the screen, Levi’s expression hardened. “There,” he pointed, “a benign tumor on the cerebellum. Looks to be about 3 cm in size. I don’t know how the doctors at the nursing home could have missed this.”

 ”So, he needs surgery?” Annie asked, her voice laced with muted curiosity. 

 ”Yes, of course. The tumor needs to come out,” Levi responded plainly as if Annie’s question was the most obvious question to be asked. 

 Annie’s eyes lit up, a mix of excitement and determination, but then she hesitated, looking back and forth between Mikasa and Levi. A question seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, but she withheld asking it. 

Mikasa cast a glance back at Annie, sensing her underlying need for affirmation. “Do you have a problem?” she asked bluntly.

“No, I just want to know if I can scrub into this surgery,” Annie replied, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

“Do you have a mocha latte?” Mikasa shot back, eyebrow raised.

“No, what does that have to do with this?” Annie asked, bewildered, the conversation from last week completely disappearing from her mind.

“Nothing. But if you have nothing else to offer, then go away,” Mikasa said, her tone softening slightly. She recognized the passion in Annie’s voice and the eagerness that burned in her eyes, but her selfish desire to operate on her fellow intern’s father nagged at Mikasa.

Annie stepped closer, her voice low but intense. “I’m hungry, I’m ready, I’m willing to learn. Why can’t I scrub in when it’s my patient? Eren got to scrub in for Petra Ral. What’s the difference between our cases?”

Mikasa considered Annie’s words. “Did Eren tell you about Grisha? About his condition?” she asked gently.

“No,” Annie admitted, the weight of their shared experiences pressing down on her. “I mean I know we just met and all that… but it’s just that… you think you know someone. You share eighty hours of your week with them, make wishes on eyelashes, and still feel like you don’t know who they really are. None of us do. We’re just a bunch of interns working together. There’s nothing there.”

Both Ackermans felt a pang of empathy for Annie. It was true; their work, and life in general, seemed to be a constant battle against the unknown. Mikasa turned to Levi, shooting him a look asking for confirmation. It was Levi’s surgery and OR after all; Mikasa’s approval held an insignificant amount of weight at the end of the day. 

“You both will help me with the surgery. It’s a complex procedure, and I need all hands-on deck,” Levi concluded. “Leonhart, this will be a good learning experience. Prep an OR and get on it ASAP.”

Though his shift ended hours ago, Eren sat patiently on a cold metal bench outside the operating room, waiting for the news on his father’s surgery. Dr. Pixis, one of Grisha’s former colleagues and the head administrator at the hospital, had personally briefed him on Grisha’s diagnosis, and he assured Eren that Grisha would be in perfectly capable hands as they operated on the tumor. Still, Eren’s hands trembled slightly, clutching the fabric of his soiled scrubs. It had been a long day, one filled with endless waiting, and Eren could feel that Grisha’s surgery was approaching its end. 

A shuffle behind him broke through his spiraling thoughts.

“Eren,” Levi’s voice was low, a calming voice that cut through the air. Eren didn’t turn around; he knew it was Levi. Being here this late in the night meant that only the straggler procedures and the night shift was here, which meant that everyone either busy in their departments or sleeping soundly. And he knew it was that of the former, based not only of the fact that he had been waiting all night, but the fact that he could feel the weight of Levi’s gaze on him. There was something about Levi’s unwavering composure that both soothed and frustrated him.

“What are you still doing here?” Levi asked, concern flooding in despite his tiredness. “It’s almost two in the morning and your shift ended at nine if I recalled correctly. I even sent Mikasa and Leonhart home even earlier, so I could wrap things up. You should be home too.”

“I know, I just… I couldn’t leave without being sure. Is he… is he okay?” Eren’s voice cracked, a mixture of desperation and hope. He was acutely aware of the tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“We were able to remove the tumor on the cerebellum,” Levi replied, his tone measured. “It was benign. He should be able to make a full recovery again.”

Relief washed over Eren like a tide, yet it was quickly replaced by a wave of anguish. Removing the tumor would not fix Grisha Jaeger - that was something that both Eren and Levi knew. There was nothing that any surgeon in the world could do to bring his father back to the man he used to be.

Levi hesitated, an edge of compassion softening his otherwise stoic demeanor.  He slowly sat down on the bench, waiting to see if Eren would force him away. When no reaction was made, Levi scooted closer to Eren, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to soothe the now crying man. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

“D-Don’t,” Eren whispered, shaking his head vehemently and ripping his body away from Levi’s touch. “Please. Please just don’t say anything.” He was done with platitudes, with the well-meaning words that felt like stones in his heart, especially when it came from none other than Levi.

Silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating. Eren stared at the floor, the tiled pattern blurring as tears finally slipped down his cheeks. After a few agonizing moments, he stood up and turned to face Levi. “Why are you still here? What is it you want from me?” Eren’s voice was raw, vulnerable. “I’m just exhausted. My father is exhausting. This job is exhausting. And you - hating or liking you is the most exhausting.”

Levi's heart clenched at the raw emotion in Eren's voice. He knew their relationship was complicated, but hearing Eren’s feelings toward their relationship struck him. “Hey, look at me,” he said, brushing away the strands of hair from Eren’s face. Eren's eyes met Levi's, and in that moment, something shifted. It was as if the weight of their unspoken words and pent-up emotions became too much to bear. Eren's eyes, usually so guarded, now shone with more unshed tears as he leaned into the less than professional gesture.

“I know you’re exhausted, I’m exhausted too. But I am here for you. I meant what I said earlier Eren.”

Eren’s emotions surged through him, and before he fully understood what he was doing, he reached out, cupping Levi’s face in his hands. Maybe it was the desperation, maybe it was the anguish, or maybe it was the longing that drove Eren to do this. But the touch was electric, a jolt that reverberated between them. Then, with tears still fresh on his cheeks, glistening in the muted hallway lights, he leaned in and kissed Levi - softly, desperately, as if seeking refuge from the storm inside him.

Levi's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the sensation. He tasted salt and an unexpected, almost overwhelming sweetness.

When their lips broke apart, the quiet echo of the kiss lingered, Eren’s ragged breath mingled with the sterile air of the hospital. “I-I don’t want to do this anymore,” he confessed, voice trembling.

Levi’s expression, rigid and watchful, shifted, a shadow of uncertainty passing over his face. “Me too,” he replied quickly - almost like a shield, a reflex, a way to agree without committing. But the ambiguity of Eren’s words hung in the air. This could mean so many things. Did he mean he wanted to end things? Or was he looking for something else entirely?

He wanted to know. He needed to be sure.

Levi’s gaze darted down the long, empty corridor, then back to Eren’s anxious face. No one. Good. He needed absolute certainty for what he was about to do. For what he hoped Eren wanted him to do. His eyes locked with Eren’s, searching for again for an answer, before he slowly, deliberately leaned in giving Eren every chance to pull away. He needed to know if that first kiss, the one that had just happened, was a mistake, or if Eren truly wanted him.

Eren met him halfway, his lips parting slightly, a soft gasp escaping him as Levi reconnected their mouths. It wasn't hesitant this time. It was hungry, a seeking, a confirmation. Eren’s hands fisted the hem of Levi’s scrubs, gripping tight as the kiss deepened, a desperate, silent conversation. Levi shifted, straddling the bench, pulling Eren closer until their bodies pressed together. Tongues tangled, teeth grazed, hands roamed, and a desperate, unspoken need finally unleashed. The once cool of metal of the bench was forgotten as heat flared between them, consuming the space.

Another soft moan escaped Eren’s throat as the kiss deepening, growing hungry. Levi’s hand found the nape of Eren’s neck, his thumb massaging the pulse throbbing beneath his jaw. A louder moan rumbled in Eren’s chest as he arched into the kiss, before he suddenly pulled away, gasping harshly, his cheeks flushed. “Levi,” he whispered, a breathless warning, as his head fell back against the cool wall. His chest was heaving, eyes still closed for a moment before fluttering open. His eyes flickered around the empty hallway, checking to see if it was still empty. “We’re… we’re still in public.”

“There’s a janitor’s closet down the hall.” Levi’s thumb caressed Eren’s jawline, a possessive fire lit up in his eyes. A smirk, faint but unmistakable, touched his lips, as he voice dropped to a low, gravelly suggestion that made Eren go weak in the knees. “It’s usually unlocked.”

Eren didn’t need to be told twice. Without another word, they scrambled off the bench, a flurry of motion driven by desperate need. Levi quickly found the door, tried the handle - unlocked. He ushered Eren in first, then slipped in behind him, pulling the door shut with a soft click that plunged them into near total darkness, save for a sliver of light from under the door. Levi jammed an old broomstick under the handle to prevent unwelcome visitors, before he was on Eren again - hands fumbling, mouths reconnecting with a desperate hunger. Eren was now pressed against the wall, his hands threaded in Levi’s hair with a bruising intensity. Levi’s body was a warm, demanding weight which supported him against the solid structure. The kisses were deeper now, more insistent, punctuated by soft moans.

“F-Fuck, oh god.” Eren's eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over, from the overwhelming sensations. He felt lightheaded, dizzy with a mixture of lust and emotional exhaustion, of the sheer rush of being with Levi like this. He pulled away again, pressing his forehead against Levi’s. “Fuck, Levi, I… I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered again, his voice breaking, raw with emotion. “I don't want to play this game of cat and mouse. I just want… I just want you right now.”

Levi’s hands, which had been roaming Eren’s back, stilled. He held Eren firmly against the door, keeping him upright, trying not to drop him even as Eren's legs felt like they might give out from beneath him. In the oppressive darkness of the room, he scanned Eren's face, using the weak light from the door that painted a faint line across the contours of the younger man’s features. His eyes never left Eren's face, searching, assessing, understanding. No words were needed.

He understood. He understood exactly what Eren was saying, what he was asking for. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was everything. “Are you sure about this, Eren? We don't have to...”

“I'm sure.” Eren silenced him with a finger on his lips, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, which Levi could have sworn carried a note of sadness which caught him off-guard.

“Eren, think about this.” It wasn't a rejection, but Levi couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease - was he taking advantage of Eren's vulnerability? After all, for the past two weeks, Eren hadn't wanted anything more than a fleeting touch, a shared moment of silence. Now, this raw, unfiltered hunger.

But then, Eren’s eyes met his, and the genuine, desperate longing within them was undeniable, burning through the lingering sadness like a torch in the night. “I need this, Levi. I need you.”

And just like that, Levi's resolve crumbled. He let him proceed. There was no turning back now.

As the rush of pleasure from their activities subsided, Eren leaned back against the shelving of the closet, still panting softly. Levi’s gaze softened as he reached for a tissue from the box on the nearby shelf. He wiped them both clean, throwing the used tissue into the garbage pail in the corner of the closet. Once they were cleaned up, Eren and Levi pulled their scrubs back on, tying the drawing string in a tight, neat knot as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. 

Eren chuckled breathlessly, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding him as he looked around the dark broom closet. Items were moved out of order but otherwise nothing seemed suspect.  “Well, that was… unexpected,” he said, his cheeks flushing a bright crimson.

Levi let out a soft huff, the corners of his mouth pointing up slightly. “You could say that again.” There was a teasing edge to his tone, but it was layered with sincerity - an acknowledgment of this moment that had been a long time coming as neither had dared to cross that line until now.

“Let’s get back out there,” Levi murmured against his lips as he pulled Eren for another kiss, lingering a moment longer than necessary.  “Before someone comes looking for us.”

Eren knew they couldn’t linger here much longer. Their relationship, if you call it that, was a secret that could easily turn into a scandal at Wall Sina. Both knew the stakes were high if their coworkers found out about their history - as Eren was Levi’s subordinate, any hint of impropriety could lead to scandal and speculation. 

“You should go first,” Eren suggested, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart pounding in his chest. “If we leave together and someone sees… it could raise too many questions.”

Levi pondered Eren’s suggestion, his expression serious yet contemplative. “You’re right,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s best this way.” The slight tension in his voice made Eren’s stomach flutter. He hated the idea of sneaking around, but their professional lives demanded discretion.

“Just… be careful,” Eren added, biting his lip. “I’ll wait a few minutes before I come out.”

“Don’t take too long,” Levi said, a trace of concern flickering in his eyes. “I’ll see you soon?” Eren nodded in response. With a final, lingering look, Levi slipped out of the closet, closing the door quietly behind him.

Eren took a moment to compose himself, leaning against the cold, metal shelves of the broom closet, heart still racing from what had just transpired. He closed his eyes and relished the afterglow of their encounter, his mind racing with thoughts of how they had found themselves in this position.

As reality crashed back down around him, Eren felt a profound weight settle in his chest. Freshly formed tears slipped down his cheeks as he sank to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest. “Oh god, what have I done?” he whispered, his voice breaking. He hadn’t meant for things to go that far. He’d stayed here for his father. He should have been by his father's side, checking up on Grisha, ensuring he was alright after the delicate procedure. Instead, Eren had been too wrapped up in his own turmoil to only just consider how Grisha was doing post-surgery, choosing to hook up with Levi in the hospital janitor’s closet at two in the morning. Eren could feel the air grow thick with shame, guilt gripping him tightly. “What kind of a son has sex with their father's surgeon right after the surgery ends?”

The earlier moments when he had eagerly reacquainted with Levi, when the world had shrunk to just the two of them, now felt tainted with a dark hue of selfishness. He had put his own needs before his ailing father,  a man who had no others but Eren to support him, even if Eren had loathed their turbulent family dynamics. Eren scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and folded the fabric slightly to use as a rag to blow his nose, in an effort to try to compose himself. He could still feel Levi's warmth against him, the softness of his lips, the gentleness that belied the surgeon's tough exterior. Levi was always so professional, so careful not to overstep any boundaries during his treatment of Grisha Jaeger, and yet, somehow, Eren had managed to pull him into this messy entanglement.

“How… how did we even get here?” Eren mumbled to the walls around him, his voice cracking. “I-I didn’t mean to… I just thought….” His thoughts drifted to Levi’s unwavering support, the way he had always treated Eren with respect and understanding, asking for consent, never pushing for more than what Eren was ready to give.

But Eren wasn’t actually ready to give. He knew he had led Levi on when he had told Levi the words, “I need you. I needed this.” It was true in many ways, but Eren knew that this need was only temporary. Eren had taken advantage of the bond they shared, letting Levi believe that there was a possibility for more. And Eren had done it because he had craved the intimacy, the fleeting escape that came with their encounters, yet now he was left with nothing but regret. The way Levi had looked at him during their moment together - like there was hope there, a flicker of something deeper that Eren was not prepared to embrace. He was still trying to figure himself out, still struggling with the weight of his familial obligations, and here he was, ruining the only good thing in his life.

Just then, the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside the closet, and Eren’s heart jolted. He instinctively wiped the tears from his face and stood up straighter, trying to regain his composure, willing himself to be completely silent. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, especially not Levi. Not after what had happened. 

The footsteps retreated, and Eren let out a shaky sob, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he thought the innocent passerby was a random nurse on their way to a page.

“God, what is wrong with me?” he whispered loudly to the empty room, biting his lip in shame and desperation. He prayed no one had heard him. But the sound was louder than Eren thought it’d be, bouncing off the metal shelves that lined the walls. Alas - Eren’s prayers seemed to be ignored as he heard soft footsteps turning back to approach the door. Three gentle knocks sounded, and a quiet, familiar voice spoke out,” “Who's in there? It's Dr. Arlert,” came a voice, calm and soothing. Eren’s pacing heart relaxed. It was Armin.

“It’s uhhh-  Eren.” He cleared his throat, hastily brushing the tears from his cheeks. “Come… come on in,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

The door creaked open, and Armin stepped inside, instantly taking in the sight before him. Eren sat on the floor, his back against the door, knees pulled to his chest.  Now cast in light, one could clearly see that Eren’s eyes were red-rimmed, and a few stray tears still clung to his lashes. Armin felt a pang in his chest at the sight of his friend so vulnerable.

 ”Eren…” Armin began, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward, closing the door behind him and kneeling beside Eren in the dark. “What are you doing inside the janitor’s closet?”

Eren brushed the remaining tears away with the back of his hand, trying to compose himself. “Uhhh, I… I just needed a moment,” he admitted, his voice low. “It’s been a long day.” He blew some snot into his scrubs, which were honestly already covered in too many kinds of bodily fluids.

“What are you doing here so late still?” Armin frowned, concern etched across his face. “I noticed your stuff was still in the locker room, but I thought your shift ended hours ago. I was worried about you.”

“I just… I couldn’t bring myself to leave.” Eren’s gaze fell to the floor, his fingers absently picking at the frayed laces on his shoes, before turning his attention back to Armin. “But what are you doing here so late?” Eren returned the question. “I thought you worked the morning. Back-to-back shifts?”

“Yup. Krista asked me to cover her shift. Said she had some sort of family thing, a succession ceremony of something.”

“Sounds noble…” Eren commented, “Noble of you to cover her shift, too.”

“It’s nothing,” Armin replied casually, trying to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him as he looked at Eren. “Grandpa was at bingo night at the community center, so I didn’t need to be there to take care of him anyways.”

Eren looked absentmindedly at the wall. “Oh, bingo night sounds fun,” replied, but there was a vacancy in his tone that clashed with his usual lively energy. Sure, Armin could attribute it to sleeplessness and exhaustion, but there was a tension in his friend’s shoulders, a rigidness that told him a sobering truth: things weren’t okay.

Armin’s smile faded, replaced by worry as he adjusted his position, leaning forward. sitting down on the floor by the door.  “Hey,” he ventured cautiously, “Are things okay? How’s your dad doing?”

Eren flinched slightly at the question, his gaze falling to the streak of dust on the floor. Shame burned in his chest. “I… I heard he’s stable now,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s good! I’m glad to hear that.” Armin’s face brightened with the news, a hopeful note in his voice. Yet, as he studied Eren’s expression, which was clouded by shadows of turmoil, it only darkened. “But you don’t look much happier.”

“I am…” Eren looked away, guilt flooding his system. “It’s just… I didn’t even get to visit him when he was out. I…I was there outside the room, but… I…” The sentence went unfinished. “He needed me, and I wasn’t there. I’m such a horrible son.”

Armin shifted forward, instinctively placing a comforting hand on Eren's knee. “Eren, don’t shoot yourself for that. Even if you caught him after the surgery, visiting hours ended long before - no exceptions to staff. I know you’re a dedicated son cause you’re still here, still worrying, still trying, despite everything with your father. You care. That’s enough.”

Eren felt the truth of Armin’s words, but it didn’t banish the feeling of self-loathing. “I know, but it’s still not enough.”

Armin shifted closer. He could sense there was more to the statement than Eren cared to let on. “Eren,” Armin urged gently after a moment of pause, “what's really plaguing you? Is it because your father -”

“No.” Eren bit his lip, shaking his head slowly as he interrupted Armin. “It’s not that straightforward…”

Armin frowned, the concern deepening on his face. “Is it because of your dad? I know the reveal of your father and his illness was not something that you wanted to have as public knowledge, but that’s not your fault. You can’t control Alzheimer’s, and you certainly can’t control who you have as a parent. It’s not your fault Eren, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Eren's heart twisted painfully at the mention of his father. “It’s not that.”

Armin blinked, a mixture of relief and confusion washing over him. “Then what is it?”

Eren shook his head vehemently, his frustration seeping out with the movement. “Nothing! It’s fine... Don’t worry about it, I don’t want to burden you with… anything.” He leaned against a stack of cardboard boxes, looking as if his legs might give out, which honestly, they could.

“We’re friends, Eren. You can talk to me.” Armin’s voice was steady, a beacon of reassurance that Eren desperately needed, though his curiosity was piqued. What could have riled Eren up this much, besides his father?

Eren took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at Armin, guilt washing over him. He didn’t want to spill his guts out to Armin once more, but the gentle calm of the blonde and the tight knot in his chest made it impossible to ignore. “I just…Everything has just gone wrong today…It’s just so out of control.”

“Out of control? How so?” Armin’s concern deepened as he leaned in closer, waiting for Eren to drop the bomb.

Taking a deep breath, Eren’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I slept with Levi again.”

“You… what?!” Armin’s eyes widened in shock.

“I know! I know!” Eren exclaimed, his voice cracking as he covered his face again. “I know it sounds crazy, Armin, but I just... I don't know.”

 ”And when… when did this happen?” he asked, although he was suddenly, horribly certain he already knew the answer. Judging by the explanation and the sight of Eren's still-slightly flushed skin, the way his shirt was untucked just so, Armin knew that it must have been recent. Very recent.

Eren wouldn't meet his eyes. He stared at the corner of the room, landing on a forgotten mop propped in the corner, its gray strings damp and limp. He looked at it intently, as if it were the most fascinating object he'd ever seen. “Like… ten minutes ago,” he mumbled.

Armin took a steadying breath, trying to process the admission. “I… I don't even know what to say. Just why, I guess?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Eren muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a defensive posture.

“Then help me understand,” Armin pressed on. Eren only remained silent, contemplating his dilemma.

“Please, Eren, I only want to help you,” Armin leaned in closer to Eren, rubbing deep circles onto Eren’s back to soothe him. “I see you suffering. But you’re not alone in this. You have me. Talk to me.”

Eren squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear finally escaping and rolling down his cheek. “I just… I don’t know how to deal with any of this.” He wiped away the tears away and inhaled deeply, trying to center himself. “I just… I hate feeling like this. I want to be strong, to handle everything, but it’s like I’m falling apart.”

“It just that…” Eren continued, “ I- I felt so overwhelmed with everything happening around me. My father's surgery, the hospital knowing about him, and then Levi... he was there… comforting me… and I just... lost control.”

“It’s okay to seek comfort, Eren. We all do. But it’s important to recognize that this… this isn’t the way to deal with your…  feelings.”

“What feelings?” Eren’s head snapped up, biting his lip so hard Armin thought he might draw blood.

“Your feelings for Levi, for one,” Armin started, laying the most obvious card on the table. Eren flinched as if struck.”

“I’m… I don’t… I don’t have feelings for him,” Eren denied, shaking his head vehemently. Was it really denial though, if denial was anything but a hidden truth?

“Eren…” Armin trailed off. He could see the truth as clearly, even if Eren himself refused to. “You literally just told me you slept with him. Again.” The quiet emphasis on the word again seemed to deflate Eren completely. The fight went out of him, replaced by a deep, hollow sadness. “There had to be some feelings involved.”

“That’s not what this is though. It’s… nothing. It’s just… physical. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you’re just using him, not because you’re cruel, but because you’re desperate?”

Eren saw the look of slight disappointment and a weary sort of pity on Armin’s face and shrank away. “Don’t… don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“Look, I’m not going to sit here and judge you when you’re already down. But it’s clear, to me, that you’re trying to numb your hurt, or maybe just feel something else for a little while.”

Eren let out a choked sob. “Fuck, I’m such a mess, aren’t I?” He rubbed furiously at his eyes, smearing the tears further across his cheeks. “God, Armin, this complicates things with Levi. So much.”

Armin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “How so?”

Eren swiped furiously at his eyes with his wet hands as he futilely tried to quench to seemingly endless flow of tears. “I tried so hard to push him away, Armin. I did. Ever since… everything started.” He lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely, as if the Armin could see a timeline of their history. “I swore I’d keep my distance, for his sake, for mine. Every time he’d try to get close, I’d shut him down, I’d build walls. But I just… I couldn’t. Not tonight.”

Eren dropped his hands from his face, revealing eyes that were red-rimmed and bloodshot, full of self-loathing. I was… just so scared, Armin, so lonely. I didn’t know what to do with everything going on with my dad, and I know it sounds so stupid but… he was just there.And I don’t know why I did it, but I didn’t care about anything except… I don’t know. I thought it would make me feel something - anything - but now I just can’t help but feel guilt.” His voice broke, dissolving into quiet sobs again. “Just… so much guilt.”

Armin said nothing for a long moment, simply watching his friend unravel, before he shifted, uncrossing his legs and scooting closer to Eren on the cold, unforgiving floor. The situation was fucked up, truly both in the literal and figurative sense and Armin didn't know if he should feel worse for Levi, for seemingly being used in Eren's moment of crisis, or for Eren, who was clearly drowning in a sea of guilt and despair. Both seemed to be victims of circumstance.

He looked again at Eren’s trembling form, Armin reached out, tentatively, resting a hand on Eren’s shaking shoulder. He squeezed Eren’s shoulder gently, almost reassuringly. “It’s okay, Eren,” he murmured, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was. Armin broke it with his everlasting wisdom. I’m here for you, Eren.

“You know, my grandpa once said, ‘Strength isn’t about holding everything inside’. You’re not weak Eren, if you’ve made it this far in life with all the pressure and challenge you have faced. Plus, you’re allowed to be scared, to cry, to seek comfort. Just… you can’t keep using Levi, or anyone for that matter, as a bandage for wounds this deep. Everything’s messed up, yeah. But… things will work out. They always do.”

“They have to. You can’t tell anyone, Armin,” Eren pleaded, his voice cracking, fresh tears threatening to spill. “Please. You have to swear you won’t tell a soul.”

“Of course not,” Armin said immediately, his loyalty overriding the hundred questions screaming in his mind. “I won’t. I promise.”

The tension in Eren’s shoulders eased for a fleeting moment. He looked so utterly spent, yet it was so quickly masked with that simple assurance. Armin let the tears and unhealthy emotions die down; he could tell that Eren’s pity session was nearing an exhaustion. 

The silence hung between them as Armin continued his consolation until “So, ummm… where did this happen?” Armin’s curiosity got the better of him. “I'm surprised you weren't caught.”

Eren looked at Armin, shock and incredulity flooding into his features.  still fixed on the mop. “Here.”

Silence. It was absolute. Armin’s eyes widened, his mind struggling to process the single, damning word. “Wait… what?” He glanced around the room - the neatly stacked boxes of nitrile gloves, the IV poles leaning against the wall, the worn linoleum floor. In that instance, he wished he could take the question back, wished he’d never aske​​d.

Armin wasn’t a prude - or a virgin - by any means, but the probable idea of sitting right on the exact spot where his friend and their boss had just finished having sex a mere few minutes ago was a bit nauseating. “Don’t tell me… am I sitting where you just… where you and Levi…?”

“Yes,” came the simple admission. Eren seemed too exhausted for shame. Seeing the look on Armin’s face, the disgust mixing with the shock, he added, a pathetic attempt at reassurance, “Uhhh, we cleaned up. So if you’re worried about germs and fluids, you shouldn’t be.”

A hysterical laugh almost escaped Armin’s lips. It was so absurd, so utterly Eren to think that was his primary concern. He’d seen far worse, dealt with far more unpleasant things, especially with his medical training. “Eren,” Armin said, a dry, weary smile touching his lips. “You think I would be a doctor if I were afraid of germs and bodily fluids? Clearly not.” Eren chuckled as well, a small grin slowly replacing the sadness.

“Alright, well speaking of, we’ve been in this closet for long enough. I actually need to get back to doctor duty and to deal with said germs and fluids.” Armin sighed softly, the amusement fading into a familiar weariness, before he knelt beside Eren. “You, on the other hand, look like you need a shower and about twelve hours of sleep. Preferably not on the floor of a supply closet.”

Eren groaned, a soft, pathetic sound, as he tried to push himself up, but his legs were splayed at an awkward angle. “Can’t move.”

“No kidding.”

“I think I’ve been here too long.” Indeed, Armin’s eyes caught the slight flinch of pain as a pins and needles sensation wracked Eren’s body, disturbed by the sudden movement. Despite this, Eren tried to stand up again, but with no success.

Armin knelt down, offering a hand that was stronger than it appeared. “Come on, you big idiot.” Eren took his hand, accepting the help without protest.

“Up. Slowly.” With some effort, Armin hoisted Eren off the ground. Eren’s legs buckled slightly, a weak tremor running through him. Armin steadied him, his arm going around Eren’s waist, as Eren swayed precariously. His lower body was truly numb - not just from the cramped sitting position, but from the recent exertion.

“Whoa, easy there,” Armin murmured, adjusting his grip, practically holding Eren upright. The weight of his friend was a familiar burden, one he’d carried in countless metaphorical ways for years.

He looked Eren over, noting the faint marks on his neck, the way he seemed to favor one hip. “Christ, did Levi break you?” Armin asked, half-joking, half-serious, as he felt Eren’s dead weight.

Eren let out a short, breathy chuckle, leaning heavily on Armin. “Yes,” he said, the word simple, conclusive. He didn’t clarify, didn’t elaborate if he meant emotionally, or from the sheer physical exertion of whatever had transpired moments before. Given Eren’s current condition, Armin suspected it was both. But seeing the way his legs trembled as Armin helped him shuffle forward, the latter seemed far more likely.

Armin just shook his head, guiding Eren slowly towards the closet door, past the incriminating crumpled sheet. “Come on, then. One step at a time.”

Eren eventually found his footing, leaning against the doorframe, still looking utterly drained. They stumbled out of the closet, blinking in the slightly brighter corridor. Eren still relied heavily on Armin’s shoulder for support, a familiar, comfortable weight from years of shared scrapes and secrets. His gaze met Armin’s, a spark of genuine gratitude flickering in his usually troubled eyes. “Thanks, Armin. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably won’t survive the next seven years, if I can barely survive two weeks.”

“You’d probably still be in this broom closet, crying,” Armin chuckled softly, a smile breaking through the tension.

Eren let out a shaky laugh, a flicker of relief brightening the moment. “Yeah, probably. I’m sorry you had to find me like this.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I did,” Armin replied sincerely. “But now that you’ve let it out, maybe we can talk about being roommates? I can’t be there for you if you don’t allow me to be in your life twenty-four seven.”

Eren chuckled, a genuine sound of happiness that echoed through the hallway. “Sure, but can we have this conversation when it’s not three in the morning? Maybe we can grab coffee later this weekend, and then we can talk.”

 ”Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Text

“Eren,” Levi’s voice was low, laced with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down Eren’s spine. He had finally cornered the elusive man, who was frozen like a deer caught in a car's headlights, alone in the men's bathroom.
 
Eren forced his gaze up, managing a strained smile. “Dr. Ackerman. Is there something I can help you with?” He deliberately kept his tone professional, the way he always did before. He couldn’t bring himself to call him Levi, not at this moment. It felt too intimate, too…real.
 
Levi stepped closer, his presence filling the small space. “You’ve been avoiding me,” Levi stated, his eyes fixed on Eren, unblinking.
 
“I haven't,” Eren said, his voice tight. He carefully dried his hands, avoiding Levi's gaze. Internally, he shook his head at the blatant lie. He had indeed been avoiding Levi like the plague since they had last slept together last Wednesday, strategically taking the longer routes through the halls, filling his schedule with back-to-back patient cases, and volunteering to run countless labs and scans to minimize any chance of an encounter.
 
“Yes, you have. You have for days now.”
 
“I wasn't,” Eren said, his tone clipped.  “I've just been busy.”
 
“Busy? Busy - with what, huh? Or are you just busy with avoiding me?” Levi stepped even closer, his anger and frustration palpable. Eren felt the air between them grow thick with unspoken tension.
 
“I have patients.”
 
“We all have patients, Jaeger,” Levi retorted, his patience wearing thin. He took a step closer, the air between them thick with unspoken words. “What exactly did I do wrong, Eren? I thought, before that… I thought that we were on good terms.”
 
“We were,” Eren mumbled, turning to grab a fresh mask.
 
Levi’s steely gray eyes narrowed. “So then what did I do wrong?”
 
“Why does it even matter?” Eren finally snapped, the fatigue of the day and the weight of their unaddressed relationship taking its toll.
 
“Because it does,” Levi hissed, lowering his voice further, the urgency rising.  “You said you wanted me.” Levi’s tone held a hint of pain Eren hadn't heard before. “You said you needed me. And now you're avoiding me?”
 
Eren flinched, recalling his own words. They were true, but he’d blurted it out, a desperate plea for some kind of solace amidst his father’s sudden hospitalization. The words had hung in the air, charged with a need he hadn't fully grasped until later. It wasn't Levi's fault that he mistook Eren's emotional pleas as a welcoming signal; Eren was the first to cross his self-drawn line as he kissed Levi – twice, no less, blurring the professional boundaries he’d always been meticulously careful to maintain. Levi, always observant and careful, had approached hesitantly with Eren's confirmation, and lines had been crossed that should have remained firmly drawn.
 
Eren flinched, finally meeting Levi’s gaze. “My father… I wasn’t thinking straight.” He scrubbed at a non-existent stain on his surgical gown before returning his gaze down to the bathroom floor. “It shouldn't have happened.”
 
Levi’s expression tightened. “So, you regret it?”
 
“I regret -” Eren stopped himself, not wanting to continue the conversation. He was aware of how badly he was wording things, but he was so overwhelmed with shame and guilt he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. He knew that he had to just stop talking, yet he couldn't. “No… but I just wish we didn't…”
 
“But it did happen, Eren,” Levi said, his voice low and steady.
 
“I know,” Eren said, his voice barely a whisper. He rubbed the back of his neck, still caught in the memory of that night.
 
“Avoiding me won't make it go away,” Levi said, his voice cutting through the quiet tension like a scalpel. “What happened… it’s not erased just because you choose to pretend it didn’t exist - to pretend I don't exist.” He stepped closer, his presence a palpable weight that made Eren’s heart pound against his ribs.
 
“I- I just…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Eren admitted, his voice laced with frustration. He wasn’t just talking about the situation between them, he was talking about the whole tangled web of professional rules and personal desires.
 
“Y-You’re... you’re still my boss,” Eren stammered, his words laced with desperation. “But you're right, Levi. We can't… we can't pretend it didn't happen. It’s… complicated.  It's…” He struggled to find the right words, “…inappropriate. Unprofessional.”
 
Levi let out a soft sigh, a rare sound from him. “I'm aware of that, Eren. I am not oblivious.” He reached out a hand, his fingers stopping just shy of Eren's cheek. “I know it's complicated, but complicated doesn’t mean impossible, though.”
 
“I just want to keep this a professional relationship…” By now Eren was starting to sound like a broken record, and both Levi and him knew that. “I know we shouldn’t have crossed that line and I… I know this doesn't change what happened… but I want to redraw the line.” Eren confessed.

Levi stayed silent at the implication.

“And… and it means… it can’t happen again,” Eren stammered, feeling his cheeks flush a furious red. “Let's just… ignore what happened before and start… over.”

 “Start over? Oh, where have I heard that before? I mean, haven’t we tried that once before?” Levi continued after a moment of pause, his voice resonating with a gravity that was undeniable. “We can’t ignore it, Eren. We can’t just pretend it didn't happen, erase it from our memories as if it was some kind of error. It's there, between us, a fact.”

Eren stared at the floor, unsure of what to say. Levi powered on, “Plus, you think I want the whole hospital to know I slept with my intern? More than once I might add?”
 
Eren felt his heart race. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have,” he retorted, his tone sharper than he intended. “At least, you knew you were my boss the last time.”
 
Levi scoffed, a humorless sound. “Don’t try to push the blame onto me, Jaeger. You wanted it as much as I did.” The truth in Levi’s words hit Eren like a blow. He knew it was true. He’d wanted Levi, desperately; the consequences and aftermath had been an afterthought.
 
“I mean the first time,” Levi huffed as he continued, “That was mutual. We used each other because we didn’t know one another. But the second time… I can’t help but feel - you came on to me and led me on…”
 
Eren shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on a loose thread on his scrub top. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It was a mistake.”
 
“A mistake?” Levi’s voice was a low growl. “We both made the decision, Jaeger. It wasn’t exactly one-sided.”
 
Eren’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with a flicker of the old anger that he tried to keep under control. “Then what were you expecting, Levi? A happily ever after?”
 
Levi’s expression didn’t waver, but Eren saw something shift in his eyes, something that looked like hurt. “I didn’t expect anything. I made a decision based on what you said, what you seemed to want. I thought… given your confession, you might actually want something.” His voice was quieter now, the edge gone, replaced by a weariness that made him look older than he was. “But of course, you don’t.”
 
“And I'm sorry I may have sent you mixed signals - it was a mistake,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. Eren shook his head, his chest tightening. “I can't - no, I won't make the mistake of being with you again.”
 
Levi’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists at his sides, fighting to control the storm brewing within him. “You say that now,” he finally replied, voice low and steady, but the hurt was clear. “But it seems that you just keep making the same mistake over and over again.”
 
A pause before Levi dropped a final word. “Maybe next time you want to make a mistake, there won’t be one to be made.”
 
Eren swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He felt a pang of guilt, watching the usually stoic and controlled Levi look so vulnerable. “Just… leave me alone, okay?” Eren turned away from Levi, his back to him. “Look, I really am sorry…I just don't know if I can feel things the same way right now.”
 
Levi finally understood. He hadn’t misread things – Eren just seemed to have a change of heart. But at least there was no denying that Eren felt something but was bound by his fear of the unknown.
 
Levi’s shoulders dropped slightly. “I see, I'll go. I apologize then. I misunderstood your… advance. I care for you, Eren, and I responded to you because I cared,.” He looked genuinely pained. “I thought… I thought we also had something there.”
 
Levi turned and walked away, his back rigid. Eren watched him go, a knot tightening in his chest. He had wanted Levi to stop, but a part of him was aching that he had. With that, Levi opened the door, leaving the room with a finality that echoed in Eren’s heart. The door clicked shut, and Eren was left alone. Eren slumped against the outside of the bathroom stall, burying his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the confusion and longing he felt. Deep down, he knew that saying no to Levi wasn’t as simple as he tried to make it sound. And perhaps, just perhaps, Eren hoped that Levi would continue his pursuit of Eren, never giving up on the chase. What kind of fucked up world was Eren living in? Begging to be chased by the one man he constantly turned down, while constantly turning the same man whom he actually wanted to be with. 

Being a resident, Mikasa had seen her fair share of hospital office dynamics, the subtle power plays, the awkward crushes, the occasional clash of personalities. But this was different. This was…weird. And Mikasa didn't like weird. Her keen instincts had quickly picked up on the unease that had been growing between the intern and the attending - it disrupted the order she strived for. Something was clearly amiss and clearly needed to be restored. 

“Jaeger,” Mikasa said, her tone serious, slicing through the silence like a scalpel against skin. “We need to talk.” She finally cornered Eren during a late-night charting session, finding him slumped in a chair, staring blankly at a half-filled form.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, sensing the topic of the  impending conversation. “Hi Dr. Mikasa, what’s there to talk about?”

“What’s going on with you and Dr. Ackerman?” she asked directly, crossing her arms. “I can see there’s something off with him when he’s around you.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Dr. Mikasa,” Eren replied quickly, but his tone was too practiced.

Mikasa narrowed her eyes, sensing the defensiveness in his tone. “Don’t lie to me, Jaeger. I can see it. You two are acting like-”

Eren flinched at the accusation, his posture tightening. “Like what?” Eren snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t know, okay?”

The tension in the room thickened, and she felt regret wash over her. She could see Eren’s jaw clench, and for a moment, she feared she’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” she softened her voice, stepping closer. “That was harsh. It’s just…I’m worried. You’ve seemed so stressed, especially lately. I didn’t mean to -”

“Look, it’s just…,” he interrupted, his frustration evident. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “I'm just - dealing with a lot right now. I have been for some time.” 

After realizing she might have come off too harsh initially, Mikasa softened her stance as she sat by Eren. “Is it…is it because of your father? Everything that happened with his hospitalization, with the diagnosis? That must be tough on you.”

Eren flinched, but Mikasa didn’t see the slight shake of his head. He didn’t correct her, though. It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. What hadn't started after his father's surgery? “That’s a part of the problem,” he admitted, his voice low. The whole truth was too complicated to put into words. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t just about his father, that it was about Levi, the night they shared, and the heated bathroom confrontation. 

Mikasa, sensing the depth of his turmoil, misinterpreted his words. “It’s normal to feel overwhelmed with everything, especially with your father.” 

Eren’s gaze snapped back to hers, his expression a mix of pain and confusion. He hesitated, his jaw working as if he were trying to find the right words. “I know, it’s also… I’m… I’m just having trouble dealing with my feelings,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “My relationship… it's struggling too.”

Mikasa, still believing Eren was talking about Grisha, recalled the man whose genius that she now learnt was only matched by his volatile temper. She'd seen the way he’d angrily berated Eren during his hospitalization, the way he cast shadow of doubts over his own son's adequacy, and the way that Grisha would replace the image of his flesh and blood with the face of his late wife. It was no wonder that the two had a long-standing strained relationship. 

She reached onto the table and placed a hand over his. “It's okay, Eren,” she said with a soft sigh, “You don't have to carry everything by yourself. We're here for you. Talk to me or talk to Dr. Ackerman. I know he cares about you, deep down.” 

Of course he cares about me , that's why I'm in this situation in the first place , Eren thought bitterly as he stared at her hand. 

Eren nodded, though his thoughts were elsewhere. “I know,” he murmured, guilt gnawing at him. He wished he could be honest, but the tangled web of his emotions regarding Levi complicated everything. “But I can't, Mikasa. That's the problem - he did reach out. After the surgery, he… he was there for me. He comforted me and made me feel something again. And what did I do? I basically told him to go away, to leave me alone,” he confessed, the bitterness in his tone now laced with a hint of regret.

Mikasa's eyes widened. Though Eren had omitted the key details of what actually transpired and let Mikasa assume her own thoughts, the reason for their shared behaviors clicked. For as long as she knew Levi, she knew that he didn’t often like to involve himself with the interns. Mikasa figured that somehow Levi took a liking to the intern – most likely due to his surgical competence or his lively charisma. She finally understood, “Oh, Eren…so you pushed him away when he was trying to be there for you? No wonder why he’s been like this.”

A new wave of guilt washed over Eren. “I just… I don't know how to fix this without hurting him further.”

“You can't let this simmer and get out of hand Eren. You need to make it up to him,” Mikasa said firmly. “Levi might not show it, but he needs to know you didn’t mean it.” But I did mean it… I meant it when I said I want to be with him. I just… there’s too much to think about.

“Start with something small. Something… thoughtful.” She paused, a glint of an idea in her eyes. “Why don’t you bring him a cup of coffee? He's probably had a long day and needs a pick me up. It’s a small gesture, but it might release the tension.”

Eren looked at her, a flicker of hope appearing in his eyes. Mikasa was right. He had been so wrapped up in his own shame and confusion, he hadn’t even tried to repair the damage. It might be a tiny gesture, but perhaps, just perhaps, it could be a start.

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile touching his lips for the first time that day. “Yeah, I think I could do that. Coffee for Dr. Ackerman.”

“Come in,” came the faint tired, clipped reply after Eren landed three small knocks on the wooden door to Levi's office. Eren pushed the door open and stepped inside. Levi sat at his desk, his eyes closed, his head slightly tilted upwards toward the ceiling. He looked peaceful, like he’d managed to steal a few precious minutes of rest in the chaos of the hospital.

Levi startled himself awake at the interruption, his dark eyes snapping open, widening almost imperceptibly at the sight of Eren as he came through the door. He blinked a few times, as if trying to clear the sleep from them, and stared at Eren as if he was a ghost or a figment of his imagination. “Jaeger? What are you doing here?”

Eren’s heart hammered against his ribs. “I… I wanted to talk.”

Levi’s eyebrow arched, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “Done avoiding me, then?” The sarcasm was a sharp prick, but underneath, Eren detected a hint of something else, maybe a quiet vulnerability.

Eren winced internally. “That's what I wanted to talk about,” Eren said, holding out the steaming paper cup, the steam curling out from the lid into the air.. “I wanted to apologize and...mend things. And I thought you might want this.”“

Levi’s brow furrowed slightly as he sniffed the bitter notes in the air. “What is it? Coffee?”

Eren nodded his head as Levi raised an eyebrow, a tentative smirk creeping onto his lips, “Is this your attempt to charm me back?” he asked, accepting the cup with a nod of thanks.

Eren winced slightly at the indirect accusation, the awkwardness of the situation hanging heavy in the air. “Maybe it’ll help keep you awake,” he added, trying for a lighter tone. “You look like you're going to fall asleep anytime soon.”

Levi stared at the cup for a moment before picking it up, his expression softening slightly. “Thanks,” he said, taking a slow sip. He closed his eyes again, savoring the warmth. “It’s…not terrible.”

Eren let out a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding. “That's great to hear. I'm glad that you like it. And I’m sorry, Levi. For… for everything.”

Levi set the cup down on his desk, his dark eyes piercing. “I understand why you… why you did what you did. It was…” He paused, trying to find the right words before settling on a simpler thought. “I forgive you, Eren. I'm sorry too, I didn’t mean to misunderstand your... intentions.”

Eren’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Thanks, Levi. I mean it, I... I really hope we can work this out.”

“Me too.” Levi's words were honest, though trying to hide the sting of dejection. “I'd imagine it would be too awkward to be at each other's throats, especially as co-workers.”

“We can still try and figure things out. I won't lie and say that I don't want something more, but I just don't know if now is that right time. I just want to take things slow, maybe restart again and see where things end up again?”

 “I understand, Eren and I'm more than happy to do so.” A small smile played on Levi’s lips. “And so long as we're being civil right now, I wanted to thank you for the coffee. Next time, I’m returning the favor and taking you out for drinks - if you want to of course.”

Eren’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening at the possible double entendre. “Drinks? Absolutely not. Drinks lead to… well, you know.” He flushed, the memory of the first night resurfacing with vivid clarity.

Levi’s lips curled into an amused smirk as he rolled his eyes. “I meant coffee, you idiot. Not everything is about sex.”

Eren’s blush deepened, but a small smile bloomed on his face. “Oh. Coffee. Right.” He chuckled, his heart feeling a little lighter.

Levi rolled his eyes again, but a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Then let’s keep it at coffee and friendship for now. No need for unnecessary complications if you’re not ready yet.”

“Sure, friends sounds nice,” Eren said, his heart racing at the thought of more moments like this. With the mutual understanding in place and the friendly banter re-emerging, everything felt almost back to normal.

“Thanks again for understanding, Levi. I’ll let you get back to your power nap then.” He turned to leave, glancing back over his shoulder. “And, uh, don’t sleep too long. Don't want you of all people to be late for surgery.”

"See you around, Eren." 

Being a surgeon had its perks - the satisfaction of saving lives, the intellectual challenge, the grateful expression of patients and their families after a successful procedure… but one of the downsides was working on holidays and on weekends.

Unfortunately for most of the staff at Wall Sina, Unification Day fell on Sunday this year. The date, July 13, marked the end of the Great Titan War over a hundred years ago, which united the Eldian people and the Marleyans under the singular nation of Paradis. It was the singular most important holiday of the year, not that it mattered anyways, because they still wouldn’t be off duty. After all, illnesses or emergencies did not discriminate on what days they would strike. So while most people got the day off to celebrate, Eren was stuck running labs.

Fortunately, the hospital, in a rare show of appreciation, had the brilliant idea to host an employee barbecue in the hospital courtyard to commemorate Unification Day. It was a perk they hoped would offset the holiday work. At least they gave us a party to have something to celebrate about. Eren glanced at his watch. The afternoon was progressing well, surgical cases were wrapped up, and he was glad for this upcoming reprieve.

Eren, his surgical scrubs slightly rumpled, wandered down the hall distractedly, his mind tangled in thoughts that had nothing to do with his patients. He was supposed to be wrapping up the post-op paperwork from the earlier procedure, but instead, he found himself standing outside of Levi’s office, drawn there by an inexplicable magnetism. 

The door was ajar, revealing the sharp lines of Levi's desk, cluttered with charts and medical journals. Eren's heart raced as he caught sight of Levi, who was deeply engrossed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was hard to believe that just approximately two weeks ago, they had crossed an unspoken boundary - twice! no less - that still hung like a tension-filled veil between them. Still, they had promised to keep things professional, to maintain a friendly façade despite the undercurrent of something deeper that neither wanted to acknowledge again, but the pulse of their hidden connection throbbed just beneath the surface.

A flutter of curiosity mingled with anxiety washed over him as Eren pondered if Levi was aware of the barbecue party happening later today. Would he come? Eren found himself yearning for the chance to see him outside of the clinical atmosphere, to enjoy a few beers, and perhaps share some laughter that didn’t involve surgical instruments or patient reports. Maybe, it'd also be a chance for them to properly connect without the suspicion of other co-workers. 

Eren shifted on his feet, contemplating whether to knock or retreat. Taking a deep breath, Eren made the decision to interrupt. He pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. “Hey, Levi,” he called, attempting to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him, laced with an undercurrent of tension. “You busy right now?”

Levi, perched behind his desk, meticulously reviewing patient charts, didn't look up. “What is it, Jaeger?” he grumbled, his voice as sharp as any of his surgical tools.

“I thought we agreed that we were on a first-name basis so long as we were in private,” Eren said as he closed the door softly behind him. "Or did you not want to try to be friendly anymore?”

“Fine, what do you want, Eren?” Levi sighed, exasperated as he continued writing something on a sticky note.

“Are you going to the barbecue today?” Eren asked, his enthusiasm unwavering as he took the seat across from Levi. 

Levi didn't look up from his papers as he responded, “I would rather go home and have a quiet evening. I have no desire to celebrate ‘unification’ by getting drunk with my coworkers.” His tone was flat, devoid of any enthusiasm.

Eren was not surprised by the response. “But… but everyone's going! It'll be fun!”

Levi sighed, the sound like a deflated tire, as he finally looked up toward Eren. “I fail to see the fun in that… I already see my team more than I see anyone else in my life.” 

Eren protested, waving his hands emphatically. “But it's not just about fun! It's a chance to actually meet some of the other staff! We're always so busy in surgery, we barely get to interact with anyone. Plus, you barely talk to anyone outside of the OR.” 

Levi considered this for a moment, his lips pursed in a thin line. He wasn’t unsociable, exactly, just… particular about his company. He often found the social interactions of his colleagues to be grating, repetitive, and generally a waste of his time. Levi tried to appear unmoved as he responded with an indifferent tone. “I am not interested in forced social interactions, Jaeger. Now leave me alone.”

“But it's not forced! It's a party! It'll be fun! Please, just for a little while? Come on, Levi, please, please, pleaseeeee?  Just for a little while?” Eren clasped his hands together, exaggerating his pleading gaze. His boundless energy and puppy-dog eyes, was proving to be strangely persuasive.

Levi leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I'll think about it,” he conceded, though his tone clearly implied he was hoping the topic would just disappear.

“Think about it?” Eren exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock offense. “What is there to think about? They have grilled corn on the cob! It's corn! A big lump with knobs! It has the juice! What's not to love?” 

“Eren,” Levi said, a hint of warning in his voice. Eren noted the lack of use of his surname. “I said I'll think about it.” The response seemed dismissive and while Eren knew it wasn't a yes, it was far from a definitive no.

Eren beamed, a burst of sunshine in the otherwise droll office. “Okay! I'll see you there!” 

He practically skipped away, leaving Levi in his office to continue staring at his files. “Oi! Jaeger - I didn't say I was coming!” 

“You don't have to - I'll see you there!” 

Levi shook his head at Eren's response. What a brat. I love how he assumes I'd show up, as if.

The rest of the afternoon was a slow, agonizing torture for Levi. Eren, as if determined to wear him down, kept bringing up the party at seemingly random intervals. “The potato salad is really good, you know,” he’d say. Or, “They have music too, if you really don't want to socialize or hear them grilling stuff.” Or, “You know, you really should meet Dr. Tybur. I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about that new research project you're working on.” The last time, Eren had said, “I'm sure the burgers are fantastic… unless you're a vegetarian? You do eat meat right?” 

Each time, Levi would just offer a quiet grunt or a slightly narrowed gaze.

Finally, Eren cornered him as he was about to clock out for the day. “So, final invitation, are you coming to the party?” He asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Levi stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tensing. He stared at Eren for a long moment, his silver eyes assessing. With a sigh that sounded like he was releasing a century of pent-up exasperation, he said, “Fine. I'll go. But only for a little while.”

Eren's face lit up, his earlier frustration dissolving into a wide, genuine grin. “Yes! I knew you’d come around! You won't regret it!”

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a headache thrumming behind his eyes. “You’re such a brat, you know that?” he muttered.

Eren's grin faltered slightly. “I am not a brat!” he protested, his tone indignant as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Levi smirked, a rare, almost predatory expression. “Yes, you are. A persistent, annoyingly persuasive brat.” He paused, letting the word hang in the air. 

Eren sputtered, his cheeks flushing a light pink, his usual fire rekindled. “I am not a brat!”

“Keep telling yourself that, brat,” Levi said, his voice low and laced with a playful edge that Eren had rarely heard since that night. It made his stomach flutter, and while Eren could protest all he liked, the nickname, and the way Levi had delivered it, had a strange, compelling ring to it.

“Fine,” Eren conceded, a playful glint in his eyes. “But you're not getting rid of me that easily Dr. Ackerman. Brat out.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the hospital courtyard, where the barbecue party was in full swing. Laughter echoed off the sterile brick walls, mingling with the sizzle of meat on the grill and the faint notes of music drifting through the air. The aroma of charcoal smoke, grilled meat, and sweet barbeque sauce wafted throught the open air. Despite the festivities, Levi stood apart from the crowd, an island of solitude amidst the sea of cheerful chaos. 

He watched Eren from a distance, feeling a fluttering of nerves in his stomach. Eren was laughing with a group of interns, his bright smile lighting up his face in a way that made Levi's heart ache. As much as Levi wanted to talk to Eren, it seemed… awkward - they were caught in a strange limbo; neither quite friends nor lovers, simply two colleagues who couldn’t help but share stolen glances and fleeting touches.

“Levi?” Erwin Smith spotted Levi standing near the periphery, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Levi Ackerman, is that really you?” Erwin exclaimed, approaching him with a disbelieving grin. “I never thought I’d see you at one of these things. When was the last time you went to one? When you were an intern?” 

Levi shrugged, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, yet somehow still focusing on Eren. “Times have changed,” he replied curtly.  He felt a pang of annoyance at himself for even being here, and yet he couldn’t deny the flicker of anticipation that pulsed through him when Eren had encouraged him to come. 

Erwin smirked, clearly not convinced. “Really? You used to avoid these like the plague. So, what's the occasion?”

“I thought it would be interesting to meet my new coworkers,” Levi said, forcing a nonchalant tone, though he could feel Erwin's sharp gaze boring into him. “And get to know the interns.”

“That's some bullshit, Levi,” Erwin chuckled. “You joined, what, three months ago and now you're interested in socializing?”  

“Better late than never, right?”  

“Don't just stand there here alone then. Just go out there and socialize a little. It won't kill you.” 

“I will.”  Levi nodded absently, but his attention was still focused on Eren. The way Eren was animatedly gesturing while talking, the way his hair caught the light, the way that Eren's eyes sparkled when he smiled - all features that drew Levi in originally like a moth to a flame. 

He suddenly felt a strange warmth spreading through him. It was unsettling how Eren had such a strong effect on him. Why did Eren have such a pull on him? Why had he, a man who valued solitude and hated forced social gatherings, agreed to come to this ridiculously loud and crowded event? The realization dawned on him slowly, almost hesitantly: he liked Eren. He might even like him a lot. Why else would he really come? Was it the brief intimacy they had shared? Was it Eren's persistent nags or his puppy dog eyes, urging him to come? Or was it something deeper, something Levi had been too afraid to acknowledge? 

Levi took a deep breath, steeling himself. He had promised himself he would uphold professionalism. He would keep their relationship friendly, at least in the workplace. But as he stole another glance at Eren, who was now animatedly gesturing as he recounted a story, Levi felt something shift inside him. He realized, perhaps for the first time, that he didn’t just feel drawn to Eren out of desire; there was something deeper there, something he was unwilling to name just yet.

Eren spotted him across the courtyard and made his way over, a plate piled high with food in one hand. “Dr. Ackerman! You came, I knew you would!”

“You can call me Levi now, Eren,” Levi remarked, though the invitation seemed almost too personal. They technically were still in a hospital setting, in public, and surrounded by coworkers no less. “We're not in front of any patients.”

Eren grinned, offering him a still warm cheeseburger. Levi politely refused. “Are you having a good time, Levi?”

“I upheld my promise, brat,” Levi said, a hint of something akin to a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was surprised at the tenderness that rose in him when he looked at Eren. “And now, I think I'm ready to head out.”

Eren’s face fell slightly. “Yeah, but… you don’t have to leave so quickly. You should consider staying a little longer then? I wanted to spend more time with you, you know?”

Levi paused, his gaze narrowing as he considered his next words. “I have no objection to spending more time with you, Jaeger,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “but perhaps in a setting where we aren’t surrounded by a hundred other people who happen to be our coworkers. In a space that is more… quiet, more private. Somewhere without prying eyes.”

Eren’s breath hitched slightly at the admission. “Oh.”

Levi took a step closer, the noise of the party fading into a dull buzz. “I mean,” he said, his eyes fixed on Eren’s, “if you want to spend more time together, how would you feel about going somewhere outside of the hospital? We could catch a movie, maybe go to a coffee shop if that's more to your liking. I did say I would return the favor from last time. What do you think?” He wanted to hear Eren voice his acceptance of this.

Eren’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink, his eyes widening. He blinked a few times, clearly caught off guard by the directness of the invitation. “You want to hang out... outside of the hospital? Alone together? Like a… a date?” He managed, the word barely a whisper.

Levi met Eren’s gaze, his heart pounding. “Yes. A date or whatever you want to call it. Wherever, whatever you want. For some reason unbeknownst to me, all I can think about since that night is just wanting to spend time with you.”

Eren hesitated, biting his lip as he considered the proposal. “I’ll think about it,” he finally said, laced with uncertainty as he explained,  “We’re still coworkers, and I thought we agreed to keep things professional.”

“There’s something about you, Eren,” Levi confessed, taking a step closer. “Something that makes me want to break those boundaries. I can’t just pretend I don’t want you.”

Eren’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment, Levi thought he might actually say yes. But Eren’s eyes darkened with contemplation, and he took a step back. “I want you too, but I need time to think about what this means for us… for our careers, for our future. It's not just about us.”

Levi’s heart sank a little, but he couldn’t let that stop him. “Then think about this,” Levi said, leaning in closer, lowering his voice. “If you want me too, why not take a chance? For our future?”

Eren’s eyes searched Levi’s, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Maybe,” he replied, his voice barely audible. 

“That’s all I get?” Levi quipped, crossing his arms. “A maybe?”

“I said I'll think about it,” Eren parroted Levi's earlier words, the conversation now flipped.

Levi nodded, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Very well. I've got to go now, but… have a good night, Eren.” 

With one last lingering look, Levi turned to leave, a bittersweet feeling enveloping him, as he left Eren standing in the middle of the courtyard, his mind reeling. Levi didn’t know where his invitation would lead them, but one thing was clear: the lines between their professional and personal lives were about to blur, and he was ready to explore it—if Eren was willing to take the leap with him.

“Hannes, I need to talk to you,” Eren said, his voice barely rising above the clamor of the faint clinking of glasses and the low hum of chatter surrounding him. The warmth of the dimly lit room was a stark contrast to the chaos brewing inside him. 

Hannes looked up from behind the bar, wiping his wet hands on a rag. His expression turned serious. “What’s going on? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Eren replied, sliding onto one of the barstools. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter, suddenly feeling the need to unload everything that had been swirling in his mind. “You remember that guy you pointed out to me the other day?”

Hannes raised an eyebrow trying to recall one particular face through a sea of faceless customers. “Ah, short, dark, and handsome?” 

“Yeah, him,” Eren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“What about him?” 

“Well,” Eren muttered as if almost cursing Hannes under his breath, “your advice worked too well.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

Hannes raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Too well, huh? Mr. McStormy swept you off your feet?” 

“Mr. McStormy?” Eren cracked an eyebrow at nickname. Mr. McStormy - The nickname fit Levi in an oddly amusing way - his sharp features, stormy gray eyes, and that fierce intensity that made him so captivating. “Yeah, that guy.”

“So, what happened? You guys hit it off?” Hannes asked, leaning closer, intrigued.

Taking a deep breath, Eren recounted the events of the past few weeks, feeling both exhilarated and anxious. “Well, you can say we hit it off… We ended up… sleeping together,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The truth hung between them, both exhilarating and terrifying. “I didn’t mean to, but it just happened…”

“Damn, I didn’t know you had it in you, Eren! 

Eren glanced around, ensuring no one was eavesdropping before continuing, “Well, after… you know, I kicked him out of my place, telling him that I had to get ready for my first impression at work. Well what a great first impression - it turns out he’s my new boss.”

Hannes’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Wow, talk about mixing business with pleasure.” He shook his head, still processing the revelation. “What a twist!”

“Yeah,” Eren admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We agreed to keep things professional, but it’s... it’s hard. There’s too much tension, too much chemistry between us that’s impossible to ignore.”

“Sounds like you might still have feelings for him,” Hannes observed, a knowing look in his eye.

“Maybe, I don't know,” Eren replied, his heart racing at the thought. He had tried to convince himself that their connection was merely a physical one, but the way Levi’s presence ignited something deep within him proved otherwise. 

“So do you think he wants to be with you?” Hannes inquired, trying to understand the situation.

“He asked me out, like on a date,” Eren admitted, heat rising to his cheeks. “But I keep sending him mixed signals. One minute, I want to be with him, and the next, I’m second-guessing everything. I can’t help it! It’s just so complicated.” The offer still hung in the air a few days later, and their shared workspace was a flurry of awkward energy and vibrant chaos. Levi remained as stoic and professional as ever, like he never had suggested the topic before, never mentioning or pushing Eren to come to his conclusion. Yet, Eren had felt obligated to tell Levi he was thinking about it, but the truth was, he couldn't stop thinking about it at all. How could Eren not think about it every time he looked toward Levi? 

Hannes whistled softly, pouring Eren a glass of something amber. “And what did you say?”

“I told him I’d think about it,” Eren muttered, staring into his drink. “It’s just… complicated. I mean, I like him, but…”

Hannes’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, what are you waiting for? If you like him, then go for it!”

Eren bit his lip, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle over him. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if it ruins our working relationship? What if our coworkers found out? And what if the hospital’s gossip mill goes into overdrive once everybody talks? Everyone talks.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, a half-hearted attempt to calm his nerves.

“Eren,” Hannes said firmly, placing the glass he was cleaning down. “You can’t let the what ifs dictate your life decisions. If you like Levi, you should take the chance. Life is too short to wonder what could have been.”

“But what if-” Eren protested as Hannes shot him down. 

“And what if? Who cares? If you let everyone else’s thoughts dictate your life, you’ll never find happiness.”

Eren pondered Hannes’s words, feeling a spark of courage igniting within him. Perhaps he was allowing fear to control him. He glanced down at his glass, swirling the whiskey again. Levi was a force of nature—intelligent, skilled, and unlike anyone he had ever met. The idea of letting him slip away because of their professional responsibilities felt painfully short-sighted; there would always be other jobs, there would never be another Levi. 

“Okay,” Eren said, a newfound determination settling over him. “You really think I should? That I should talk to him, give him a chance?”

“I do. Life’s too short, Eren. Take a chance. You know you want to.” Hannes shrugged, leaning back as he sipped his drink. “Just remember to be yourself.”

“Yeah sure, be myself. That's what got me into this mess,” Eren muttered under his breath. 

Hannes didn't seem to catch Eren's comment, and he continued, “What’s the worst that could happen? Nothing? Everything? Who knows? But, If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be waiting right here with a drink waiting to drown your sorrows in.” 

“Okay, thanks Hannes,” Eren said, a hesitant determination settling into his chest. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good!” Hannes said, clapping him on the back. “Now, let’s celebrate your decision. Another round for my favorite surgeon?” 

Hannes grinned as Eren nodded, pouring Eren and himself a drink before raising it in mock toast. “To taking chances, my friend! And to Mr. McStormy!”

“To McStormy!” Eren couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine sound that felt foreign after all the tension he’d been carrying. How hard could it be to open up his heart, even just a little, to the man who had somehow stitched himself into his life in ways he never expected?

“Nice of you to join me, brat. And right on time,” Levi said with a hint of sarcasm as Eren approached, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the tumultuous feelings they both harbored. Eren once again felt his stomach flutter at the use of the nickname. “I see your punctuality carries on, even from work…”

“I'm only two minutes late,” Eren defended as he flashed an apologetic smile, “Parking was a bitch.” 

Levi rolled his eyes but stood, pulling out a chair for Eren. “Right… Have a seat,” he said, and Eren felt a rush of warmth at the gesture, the tension easing slightly. They settled into a small table by the window, sunlight streaming through, illuminating the space between them. 

They had agreed to meet at The Titan Named Bean , a local cafe in the neighboring city of Shiganshina.  This was supposed to be a casual meeting—a chance to get to know one another outside the sterile confines of the operating room, the weight of their professional titles, or the dangers of nosy coworkers. 

The cafe was warm and inviting, filled with the rich aroma of coffee and pastries. It felt familiar, almost like the Eren felt the familiar pull toward Levi, a force he was learning was difficult to ignore. As the two settled down comfortably into their chair, each took to the menu, reading through the menu and assessing their options.

“Just to clarify,” Eren began, breaking the silence that had begun to stretch between them. “This isn’t a date-date. More like a …like a getting-to-know-you-better sort of date, right? Like a coffee chat?”

Levi raised a single eyebrow, a gesture that could have been interpreted as either amusement or exasperation. “Sure, if that’s how you want to define it.”

Eren bit his lip, chuckling nervously. “Well, if it progresses further, we can figure out the “date” part, or whatever that entails from there.” 

Just as Levi was about to respond, a barista approached to take their orders, saving him from needing to respond. Eren, feeling suddenly indecisive, pointed at a colorful drink on the menu. “I’ll take that one, and… a slice of the spinach quiche.”

“And you?”

“I’ll have the Earl Grey, and an eclair.” He gave the barista a curt nod, who scuttled off to prepare their orders.

Eren raised an eyebrow. “Tea, huh? I didn't peg you for a tea drinker.” It was true - Levi seemed to be a black coffee-only type of guy.

“I prefer it, actually,” Levi's gaze was steady as he met Eren's inquisitive eyes. “But you know how surgery can be, long days, late nights, tiring shifts. Coffee is just a necessary evil at work to stay awake. So I gave in, you know, like the rest of the world.” He gestured in mock exasperation, though there was a hint of wry amusement behind the movement.

“Makes sense,” Eren commented, “I'm exclusively a coffee guy.”

The two settled in a lull of silence as the conversation just stopped there. Thankfully, the  barista returned quickly with their drinks and pastries. Levi eyed Eren's towering, cream-laden concoction, which was sprinkled with cookie crumble bits, with a raised eyebrow. “Is that some sort of Frappuccino-looking thing?”

Eren chuckled, a blush rising on his cheeks. “No idea, let me check.” 

He opened the menu and Levi swore that the name of the drink sounded like it belonged in a children's book, not in a cafe menu.  “It's called Cookie Monster's Vanilla Bean Dream, actually. It's...well, it's a lot,” he conceded, taking a sip of the sugary concoction. “But I have a massive sweet tooth and I deserve a treat after a long week.” He then gestured to Levi’s pastry. “What about you? What's that?”

“An eclair,” Levi said, a hint of fondness entering his voice. “It’s one of my favorite desserts. I don’t often see them here in Paradis, but I always get one when I do.”

“Why, is it your favorite?” Eren asked, curiosity coloring his tone. He placed his drink down and leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand to listen.

Levi’s gaze drifted away, a flicker of a faraway memory in his eyes. “My mother used to make them when we lived in France,” he explained, his voice softening with nostalgia ever so slightly. “It's a taste of home, I suppose.”

Eren's eyes widened, surprised. “France? You lived in France?”

“Born and raised,” Levi confirmed, returning his gaze to Eren, a touch of pride in his tone. “I moved to Paradis when I was a teenager.”

“Wow,” Eren said, shaking his head slightly. “I didn’t know that about you. You don't have an accent or anything.”

Levi’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jaeger.”

Eren grinned, his green eyes sparkling with genuine interest. A flicker of warmth spread through Eren's chest. “Well,” he said, reaching for his drink, “I'm glad we're taking the time to learn about each other now.”

The initial nerves began to fade as they sipped their drinks, talking about everything from their favorite surgeries to the quirks of the hospital staff. Eren found himself laughing at Levi's dry wit, and Levi, in turn, seemed more relaxed, his sharp edges softening as they connected over their shared experiences. When they finished their drinks, Eren hesitated before speaking. “So, what happens next?”

Levi’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of hope and nervousness in his gaze. “That’s up to you, Eren.”

“I’m…I’m scared to let this become more, if I’m being honest, Levi,” Eren hesitated, unsure if his reluctance would turn Levi off. “There’s too many things to consider… and I don’t want to screw things up further than they already are.”

“Then let’s keep things the way they are now… and if change comes, we can take things one step at a time, if you're interested?”

Eren met Levi’s gaze, the weight of the moment heavy with possibility. He took a deep breath, “I think I’d like that.”