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In most ways, Eren Jaeger felt like he was born to be a history teacher. Talking for a whole day about the mistakes of humanity while he had a captive audience of middle schoolers, running around and reenacting battle scenes just for their entertainment, and even reading their poorly-written analyses of primary sources—it was all what he loved doing best. He got to share his favorite parts of the world every weekday with the eighth graders of Sina Middle School.
Eren didn’t mind waking up early, or grading, or even the occasional behavior problems. He liked drinking coffee, and he loved the group of quirky kids that begged to eat lunch in his room every day, and he loved bitching about the school board powers that be with his co-workers.
There was one part of his job he liked, but didn’t love. That was his co-teacher, the English teacher, Levi Ackerman. It wasn’t because Ackerman was an asshole or didn’t share the classroom space well—far from it, actually. He basically let Eren have free reign of the decorations and bulletin boards. And the kids liked him fine enough. But as a history teacher, Eren was obsessed with unpacking secrets and getting straight to the source of his questions. And Levi Ackerman, for the most part, seemed unknowable.
He’d overheard student jokes in the hallways. Mr. Ackerman was a vampire. A statue. The ghost of Sina himself. Kids swore they’d never seen him crack a smile, and though they loved his class, they were all slightly terrified of him.
In truth, Eren was slightly intimidated by him. If only because he just didn’t understand Ackerman at all. Though this was their second year of sharing a classroom together, Eren had yet to see Ackerman leave the building before himself, and he hadn’t gotten any information about his personal life, except that he’d grown up around here. Eren, who relied on personal anecdotes to get him through days he forgot to lesson plan, couldn’t imagine being as unknowable as Ackerman.
He was a geode Eren was dying to crack open, if he were honest. But maybe there wouldn’t be a prism inside. Maybe Ackerman really just liked books, and it wasn’t like that was a personality trait. Maybe only the dried leaves of pages existed inside him.
One Wednesday, a particularly hot one where the March temperatures scraped seventy, but the school hadn’t turned off their ancient radiators, Eren welcomed the usual lonely-hearts club of his favorite students (he’d never tell them or anyone else they were, but it was obvious to any careful observer) in for lunch.
Jean, Conny, and Sasha were a funny friend group. Jean was sort of in with the jocks because he played soccer, but since most of them had stupid middle school relationships that would surely end in disaster, and Jean didn’t, he preferred to not be the only single at a couple’s table. Sasha was the doting one, and the first to drag them up to Eren’s room for lunch, because she found out he kept snacks in his drawer that he gave to her. Sometime in October, Eren had done some digging to make sure her home wasn’t food-insecure; nope, Sasha just ate that much. Tagging along wherever Sasha went was Conny, a scrawny kid with a buzzcut and a high-pitched squeak of a voice, always cracking jokes for the benefit of their two friends.
The trio were more or less inseparable, and no seating chart Eren made could keep them apart in his class. At some point, though they annoyed him sometimes, he surrendered to their whispering while he lectured, because they always apologized so sweetly over lunch.
The room was muggy, and perfumed with the smells of the four-course meal Sasha had spread out over her desk.
“Whatcha got today?” Eren asked, leaning against the edge of his desk.
“Rice, chicken, cabbage, and tofu!” Sasha explained between bites, gesturing with her fork. “Can I have a granola bar?”
Eren laughed. “Finish what you’ve got first.”
Sasha pouted, and Jean elbowed her. “C’mon, Sasha. You’re going to eat through Mr. Jaeger’s paycheck if you’re not careful. Teachers don’t make that much.”
Sasha mumbled something indignant through a mouthful of food, gesturing with her hands.
There was a knock on the door, and Eren turned away from the group to see a bespectacled student with a high ponytail of dark brown hair in the entrance. Zoe Hange wasn’t much of a talker, and though they had an A in Eren’s class, he knew they weren’t here for him. “Hey, Hange,” he said. “Mr. Ackerman’s not here right now. Need something?”
They bit their lip and shook their head. “Just wanted to show him my book report on Frankenstein.” Hange was such an avid reader that they’d begged Ackerman for extra books, to keep them interested. Most of the time, they weren’t even doing the assigned work in his class, because they’d already finished it and turned in their final paper. Their special interest was monsters, and after tearing through all the modern novels Ackerman could suggest to them was now doing a deep dive into gothic literature.
“I’ll let him know you stopped by. See you in fifth period.” Eren waved.
Hange nodded and disappeared off down the hallway.
From behind him, there was a cluster of giggles, and he found the trio failing to whisper an argument.
“Just ask him!”
“No, that’s weird!”
“Oh, this would be the weirdest thing you’ve asked him?”
“Conny, I am not—!”
“Ask me what?” Eren asked, returning to his desk chair and leaning back.
Jean groaned and put his forehead in his hand. Sasha choked on her food; Conny, face pink, thumped her on the back. It didn’t take long under their teacher’s green-eyed stare to crack.
“Anyone ever told you the eighth graders all ship you and Mr. Ackerman?” Conny blurted out.
Eren frowned. “Ship?” he repeated. The word rang faintly in the back of his brain, but more a quiet hum than anything.
Jean groaned even louder, face-planting into the desk. Sasha swallowed hard. “Like, we think you should date,” she said. Though her cheeks were bright red—from embarrassment or lack of oxygen—she had a devious smile on her face.
Oh. Eren’s eyebrows shot up. “No…” he said. “All of the eighth grade thinks this? Or just you three?” Sure, he knew kids gossiped and loved making up elaborate backstories for their teachers, and he’d been open with the kids that he was gay, but getting—what was it?—shipped with his co-teacher was certainly a new one.
Sasha started giggling so hard that she couldn’t answer; Conny just shrugged. Jean peeled his face off the desk to answer. “It kinda is everyone, Mr. J. It’s common knowledge that if someone’s flunking one of your classes, all we need to do is get on the other’s good side, and then you forgive us.”
Eren opened his mouth indignantly, doubting he’d ever had a student flunk his class, and need to go to Ackerman no less, but Conny chimed in before he could say anything.
“’Sides,” they said, stealing a sprig of cabbage out of Sasha’s Tupperware and popping it in their mouth, “you two are like a couple. You, like, share a braincell.”
“Plus the way he looks at youuuu,” Sasha crooned, batting her eyelashes for dramatic effect.
Eren’s face was burning. What the hell? How was he supposed to respond to this? Was there an appropriate way? This definitely felt like a crossed boundary line.
“Ahem,” Eren cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Lunch is over. I think it’s time you three head to class.”
“Awww,” Sasha whined, packing up her stacks of food containers. “I didn’t get to finish.”
Eren tossed her a granola bar, and she caught it, beaming. “Thanks, Mr. Jaeger!”
The trio scrambled to leave the room, nearly crashing into Ackerman as they left.
“Oh! Sorry!” Conny stammered out as they flew past. “Fancy seeing you here!” Their laughs echoed down the hallway.
Hot-faced, Eren watched his co-teacher smooth his shirtfront and readjust the cuffs of his shirt as he reentered the room. Ackerman never ate in their room, and Eren had no idea where he went, because it certainly wasn’t the staff break room, but he never returned with wrappers or smelling like a food truck. No, Ackerman always smelled like fresh laundry detergent and a hint of cologne. Refined, just like the perfect pleats in his pants and the crispness of his words.
Shit. Did he have a crush on his co-teacher?
No, that was stupid. This was the person he spent approximately seven hours a day with, five days a week. Of course he knew everything about him, including how he smelled. They shared a damn tiny classroom after all, in a poorly ventilated building older than either of them. Those damn kids just put silly ideas in his head.
Levi’s head was cocked, just the beginning of loose strands of his dark hair straying across his face. “What was that about?”
“Oh!” Eren forced a laugh and waved a hand. “Them? Same as always. Those three are always on their bullshit.”
Levi’s eyebrows pinched, perhaps seeking a more precise elaboration than on their bullshit, but Eren steered the conversation away as fast as he could. “Hange stopped by! Finished Frankenstein.”
The end-of-lunch bell rang. Footsteps thundered below their classroom. Ackerman smiled slightly. “How sweet. Can’t wait to read their report.”
His co-teacher had a much sweeter smile than Eren had never noticed before. Slight dimples that formed in his cheeks.
Kids flooded the classroom and Eren had to scramble to get his PowerPoint on the board, before he could think too hard about how fucked he was.
*
Levi could tell his co-teacher was mentally preoccupied that afternoon. Normally, Jaeger flew about the room, putting on a one-man show complete with props, videos, and special voices.
Though Levi’s teaching style couldn’t have been more opposite from Jaeger’s theatrics, he secretly admired it. He was 100% certain that eighth graders never could’ve wrapped their minds around Animal Farm if it weren’t for Jaeger’s reenactment of the Russian revolution. He’d been so cute, showing up in a peel-off beard to impersonate Stalin, and quickly switching to wire-framed glasses to be Trotsky. By the end of the day, he had red patches all over his face from the adhesive of the beard pulling his skin raw.
But today, Eren was fucking up his PowerPoint, tripping over his own feet, forgetting himself mid-sentence. From his perch at his desk in the back of the room, Levi kept feeding him the ends of his thoughts.
“And so to be clear, Stalinism, wasn’t actually…y’know…” Eren stammered.
“Communism,” Levi chimed in, not looking up from Hange’s Frankenstein report. Their analysis of the monster’s attachment style was both insightful and hilarious, when he thought about how it came from the mind of a thirteen-year-old.
Eren snapped his fingers. “Yes! Communism. Thanks, Mr. Ackerman.”
“Is that why we call it Stalinism? Because it was Stalin’s take on it?” A kid asked.
“Yes! Exactly. And I’m so glad you brought that up, Marco, because we’re actually going to read an excerpt of a speech Stalin gave, and compare and contrast it with the writings of…” Eren hit the keys of his computer several times, but the slides of his presentation didn’t change. The loading wheel began to spin in the middle of the screen.
“Engels,” Levi filled in. He rose to his feet and collected Eren’s pre-printed handouts from the bin, handing them off to a too-restless kid in the back. “Help Mr. Jaeger pass these out, please.”
“Yes! Engels.” Eren laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you sure you don’t just want to teach for me today, Mr. Ackerman?”
Levi smiled inwardly, returning to his desk. He stretched out in his chair as the wide eyes of their students turned onto him. “Depends.” He folded his hands. “Are you going to examine paradox in Animal Farm for me later?”
Eren just chuckled breathily. “Don’t think I’m smart enough for that. I’ll stick to battle devices. Not literary ones.”
There was a rumble of laughs from the kids. A ruckus of protests that took a little bit to rein in. The kids adored Jaeger, and his self-deprecating humor always spurred them to his defense.
Levi had been teaching for a couple more years at this school, but Eren was by far the best co-teacher he’d ever had. There was a rhythm to his thoughts, his movements, his plans that Levi naturally knew the beat to. People who joked that co-teaching was like a marriage weren’t too wrong; he spent more time at school, with Eren, talking with Eren, planning with Eren, than he did alone.
And Levi loved to be alone. Preferred it, mostly. Every day at lunch, he left school to go for a walk, just to be alone with his thoughts. As a middle school teacher, silence was more precious than gold to him.
But the great thing about Eren was that Levi really didn’t mind being around him. There was a peacefulness to his presence, and there were rarely words that had to be said between them. Though he loved to listen to Eren talk, he never felt like he had to respond. That, in Levi’s eyes, was the perfect type of person.
At the end of the day, when the kids had cleared out and Levi had traded Frankenstein for Dracula with Hange, he returned to his desk to get started on paperwork. Levi preferred to work late—he hated when the bus was crowded—and he was very meticulous about his grading system.
Eren was crashing around his side of the room, shoving pencils back into jars and crumpling up discarded papers in his usual flurry to leave as soon as possible. After making a pit-stop at the trashcan, he hesitated by the small rainbow flag pinned to their bulletin board, adjusting the tacks where one corner had come loose. “Guess what the lonely-hearts club told me today?” he said, back still turned.
Levi marked an exit ticket 1.5/2 and set it aside in his third period pile. “What?”
“Apparently, the kids ship us.”
Levi looked up, pressing the tip of his pen to his lips. “What the hell does that mean?”
Eren turned around then, and Levi found that his cheeks were ever so slightly pink. Eren always had an expressive face, and the kids always teased how easily he got red. Levi could see why. “Like…think we should be a couple.” He laughed a little too loudly.
Levi arched his eyebrows. Huh. Interesting that Eren found this idea so embarrassing. Did that explain why he was so flustered all day? No, that was stupid. “Really? Hmm. That explains why Bertholdt and Reiner keep asking if I relate to them. I thought they were just making fun of my height.”
Eren tried and failed to smother a laugh. Genuine this time. He ducked his head, but Levi could still see the crinkle of the corner of his eye. “Kids are funny,” he said.
“Hmm,” Levi agreed. He returned to grading exit tickets. Eren kept fluttering around the room, messing with various classroom amenities. There was a tension mounting in the air, a bubble swelling to the point of bursting, and Levi knew Eren would never leave it unsaid. He just needed to wait for it to happen.
“Hey. Weird question. Wanna grab a beer with me?” Eren asked.
Interesting. Levi shifted his eyes up to his co-teacher, who stood by the door, bag over one shoulder, hands in his pockets. “Trying to fan the flames of the eighth-grade rumor mill?”
Eren laughed. A musical laugh this time. “Thank god they don’t let thirteen-year-olds in bars.”
Levi dropped his eyes back to the papers on his desk and found he was on the last worksheet. Wow. He’d graded much faster than usual. Scrawling a 2/2 on it, he pushed himself to his feet, feeling unusually outgoing. That damn shy smile on Jaeger’s face was giving him a dangerous amount of bravery. “Sure. Let me get my things.”
*
A beer for Eren, a glass of red wine for Levi. He held the wine glass weird. Watching him sip it, seeing the deep red stain on his lips, made Eren’s palms sweat for some weird, unidentifiable reason.
Damn it all. Damn those kids for getting in his head, for pointing out that he and Levi could finish each other’s sentences and step into synch without ever missing a beat, and why did their stupid little phrase we ship you make Eren picture his fingers intertwined with Levi’s, his body close, what it would be like to kiss him—ugh, goddammit!
They chatted about work, about their favorite students. Conny, Jean, and Sasha were obviously at the top for Eren—Hange for Levi—but they both agreed that goofy little lovebirds, Reiner and Bertholdt, and sullen book nerd, Annie, were in the running as well. Eren even made a case for the overly-talkative baseball jock, Zeke, but Levi shot him down, referencing a time Zeke tried to turn in a homework assignment sticky with popsicle drippings. “Just disrespectful. And so gross. Not to mention he didn’t even do the work correctly,” Levi had huffed.
Despite Eren’s many subtle attempts to pull personal information out of Levi, (“I feel like I never see you out of school!” “Nobody does,” being a prime example), his co-teacher remained a mystery throughout their conversation. When they closed out their tab and left the bar, Levi pointed to the left and said, “I’m going this way.”
“Me too!” Eren said. “My apartment’s just a couple blocks that way.”
“Same,” Levi said.
“Huh. Really. I never see you on my morning commute.”
“You take the bus, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I walk in the mornings.”
“How’d you know I take the bus?”
Levi shrugged. “Sometimes you smell like the bus.”
Daylight savings hadn’t hit, and the temperature had dropped. The night was cool and dark; it hid the blush in Eren’s cheeks, but made the heat of his face sting in the cold. “What’s that supposed to mean? What, you smell me?” As if he wasn’t just thinking about how Levi smelled. Eren was grateful his co-teacher wasn’t a mind reader. At least, as far as he knew.
“Don’t make it weird,” Levi said gruffly. “I just notice these things. Besides, you complain about it in the mornings, sometimes. Like when you come in late, all sweaty, because it was delayed, and crowded. And so you smell like bus.”
Eren elbowed him in the side. Instead of glaring at the gesture, Levi bumped back into him with his shoulder.
They turned onto the street where Eren lived. “That’s me up there,” he pointed to an apartment building with rusted green fire escapes on the front.
Levi laughed dryly. “No way. Me too.”
Eren turned to him. “You’re shitting me.”
Levi shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. Eren loved watching the way it threaded through his fingers, the way it pulled back to reveal the shorter hair beneath. Shit, had he always thought that? Or had that developed over the past few hours? Maybe it was the beer. He’d blame it on the beer.
“Want to stop in for another drink?” Eren asked. “I might have red wine. Probably.”
Levi cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you trying to get me drunk, Jaeger?”
“I am not—!” Eren began indignantly, but then he saw that Levi was laughing, his grey eyes twinkling. He sighed. “Is that a yes?”
As they climbed the front steps to their building, Levi brushed past him, close, to unlock the front door. “Yeah. Sure.”
In Eren’s apartment, he didn’t have red wine, so they opted for gin and tonic. Levi accepted the drink with a coy smile for Eren that made his insides turn into a melty, twisted mess. Levi lounged on one end of his couch, arm propped up, holding his glass with his palm nearly covering the top—the same way he’d held his wine.
Eren sipped his own drink for courage and sank down on the other end.
“You clearly have an eye for decoration,” Levi commented, glancing around. “But I think I like our classroom better.”
Eren laughed. “Makes sense. It’s been almost two years, and I’m just now getting you out of it.”
Levi peered at him over the rim of his glass, grey eyes reflecting the warm yellow lamplight. “Why do you want to?”
Eren sighed and set his glass down. The truth was, he had no idea. The truth was that his students’ jokes had planted a seed that beer had watered and now something dangerous was growing in his chest. The truth was that alcohol had loosened his tongue enough to say things he wouldn’t normally say. “Why not? You’re the person I spend the most time with, and to be honest, one of my closest friends just moved away, and I know you and I get along, so I thought—what are you looking at?”
Levi was currently glaring daggers at Eren’s gin glass. He sucked his teeth. “Don’t you have coasters?”
Eren furrowed his brow. “No?”
“You’re the worst gay person I’ve ever met.”
“Excuse me?”
“C’mon, Jaeger. Even I have coasters.”
“Wait, what? Are you gay?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point. The point is you’re going to damage the wood of that side table if you don’t have a coaster!”
Eren picked up the glass and wiped away the condensation with his palm while Levi looked on with disgust. Levi was gay. How had he never known that? “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No. What is this, twenty questions?”
“Geez! Sorry, I just want to get to know the person I’m work-married to. Is that insane?”
Levi smiled skeptically. “Work-married, huh? Good thing we’re both gay, then. Would be a shame if it were a loveless marriage.”
Eren laughed. “Exactly. That’s why I asked.” He traced his thumb through the condensation on his glass to avoid Levi’s eyes. He could tell the other man was watching him, now. His brain was going warm and fuzzy from the gin, the botanical perfume filling his lungs with every sip, and some small part of him was nudging him to taste the flowers undoubtedly on Levi’s lips.
But no. That was insane. Just because Levi was gay didn’t mean he was flirting.
Wait, were they flirting?
Levi uncrossed his legs and stretched out his thigh more across the couch. “So. The kids ship us and we’re work-married. It seems like they have a pretty airtight case. Don’t you historians study people like that all the time? Lifelong friends who owned a cottage and cats and even sometimes raised children together?” A teasing smile played at his lips.
Okay, maybe they were flirting.
“Yeah, that’s a decent amount of queer history,” Eren said. “Just wait ’til your poetry unit. If I haven’t convinced the kids Emily Dickinson was a lesbian by the end, I’m going to quit.”
Levi stuck out his lower lip. “Divorce?” he said, his voice low and teasing.
A little too low. Almost dangerously sexy. Eren fought to keep the blood in his cheeks, and no lower. At least he could excuse that as a flush from the alcohol.
Against his better judgment, Eren found himself leaning forward. “Never, my dear. I’m not going anywhere until you get tired of me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Levi said.
Definitely flirting.
Eren lowered his drink to set against his thigh. Levi’s eyes flicked down, approving that it wasn’t on the table, but then lingered over Eren’s body for a little too long. “How have I known you for this long, and never knew you had such a great sense of humor?”
Levi tilted a shoulder. His cheeks had the faintest blush to them; maybe he could feel the gin swimming around in his bloodstream too. That was what was creating this warmth between them, right? “I’m not normally. You bring it out of me, Jaeger.”
“Eren, please. We’re not at school.”
“Eren,” Levi repeated, trying the word out with his tongue, shaping his lips around it.
Oh god. Eren wanted to kiss him.
Nope, not kissing your co-teacher. That’s a very bad idea.
Levi shifted closer. He drained his glass and, after failing to find anything to set it on, settled for the carpet by the couch.
“Eren,” he repeated, “I’m glad you asked me up.” His eyes traced circular patterns over Eren’s face. Across his eyebrows, into his eyes, down his nose, over his lips. Over and over. “Or maybe I’m glad I finally was open enough to saying yes. We have a way of meeting each other where we’re at like that.”
“Where do you want to be right now?” Eren asked. He draped his arm across the back of the couch.
A smirk danced over Levi’s lips. “What? You don’t know the answer?”
Eren’s breath hitched.
“Tch. Please, Eren. We both knew exactly what this meant, ever since we left the bar. So why don’t you finish what you started?”
“Aren’t you normally the one to finish my sentences?” Eren challenged. Liquid courage made him say it. Goddammit. Maybe he just wanted to push Levi to see how far he would go.
Levi practically growled, grabbed Eren’s collar, and yanked him down to catch his lips in a fierce, burning kiss. Eren met him with an open, eager mouth, and Levi chuckled slightly against his lips before opening his own.
He moved his tongue against Levi’s, exploring the inside of his mouth, over his teeth, grazing his own against Levi’s bottom lip. It felt like he captured the thousands of words Levi held back inside his mouth. The flowers Eren was chasing bloomed between their lips; the sweetness of elderflower, the tang of lime, the bitter bite of tonic. All there whispering a gentle message to him: maybe I’ve been distant because I knew this would happen when we collided.
Slim fingers slid over the buttons on Eren’s shirt before slowly undoing them, one by one. Eren pressed forward, and Levi slid beneath him, tipped until his head rested on the arm of the couch. He swung his other leg up and hooked it across Eren’s back, and Eren fell against him, hips grinding together, close enough to feel Levi’s heart pounding in his chest.
The first secret Eren unlocked: he made Levi nervous. That, above all else, was extremely unexpected.
Normally Eren would be one to move his hands all over, but he wanted to cup his hands around Levi like he was water, at risk of slipping away. He pressed one palm to Levi’s cheek, kept the other on his hip, and memorized the shape of him.
Levi’s kisses were desperate, demanding, somehow still sweet and intoxicating. Must’ve been the gin. Like finishing his sentences, Levi took over the role Eren had vacated. He slid his hands underneath Eren’s shirt, traced the planes of his back, skated over his hips and ass.
At Levi’s touch, Eren felt himself shaking ever so slightly. Or maybe that was just his arms, from propping himself up on this tiny couch. When he attempted to shift his weight, he ended up grinding his hips against Levi’s so intensely that they both moaned, and the sound of the other man’s obvious desire broke the last of his resolve. His arms gave out, and he nearly fell sideways off the couch.
Levi caught him with one arm. Much stronger, more muscular than Eren would’ve ever guessed. Secret number two: Levi was strong beneath all the starchy dress shirts and jackets.
“We spend enough time around teenagers. We don’t need to act like them. Can we move somewhere a bit bigger than the couch?” Levi said.
Can we move. Not we should stop. Interesting. Laughing, Eren pushed himself to his feet. “Is my room okay?” he asked.
Levi smirked. “Trying to get me in bed?”
“Maybe,” Eren shot back. Definitely. Even though it was such a bad idea. Right? He shouldn’t fuck his co-teacher.
Right?
Levi stood, pressing in close and curling his fingers around the collar of Eren’s shirt. When Levi stood on his tiptoes to kiss him, Eren placed his hands firmly on the other man’s hips and lifted him up to meet him. Taking the cue, Levi wrapped his legs around Eren’s waist. Without breaking their kiss, Eren walked them to his room. He nearly lost his way a few times, or crashed into corners. Levi moving his lips to his neck was just a little distracting.
Eren kicked open the door to his room and threw Levi down onto his mattress.
The dark-haired man propped himself up on his elbows, panting for breath. His lips were so red and parted, moist from kissing, a little swollen. For the first time, Eren was seeing his black hair unkempt, loose from any gel or precise combing. It hung across his forehead and over his ears. It was…so hot.
“This is probably a bad idea,” Eren said, shedding his unbuttoned shirt.
“Probably,” Levi agreed. “Do you still want to?”
“So badly.” Eren blurted it out before he could stop himself. Thank god it made Levi grin. Eren crawled up over him, framing Levi’s narrow waist with his knees. “Do you?” he asked.
Levi nodded hurriedly. His hands came up and caught the back of Eren’s neck, pulled him down so their chests were flush. “I knew this would happen when you got me alone.”
Levi surged up to kiss him after this confession, but Eren put a finger between their lips. “Hold on,” he said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He felt the brush of Levi’s teeth as he bit his own lip. Maybe he regretting admitting so much. “That I’m tired of resisting you.”
Secret number three was probably Eren’s favorite. He kissed Levi again, until he stopped biting his own lip and met Eren’s instead. “It only took me asking once to break your resolve? Good to know.”
“Don’t be a brat about it,” Levi grumbled, but Eren could feel the smile curving his lips.
It was then that being this close was not close enough for Eren. He wanted—needed—more. “Too many clothes on,” he managed. Words were hard.
Levi sat up, nodding in agreement. While Eren worked on his own belt and pants, Levi took his time unbuttoning his shirt with care, as if each were as delicate as glass, or spun sugar.
“Are you just trying to tease me?” Eren huffed.
Levi slid out of his shirt and began to fold it.
He had tattoos. Like, a lot of them. Black ink that wove like vines over his arms, that outlined where his collarbones ended, that trailed beneath his undershirt.
Oh, fuck. As if he couldn’t get any hotter.
Seeing Eren’s open mouth, Levi rolled and flexed his arms. “Oh. Yeah. Forgot you hadn’t seen these.”
Eren approached like Levi was an altar. Maybe he was, and Eren’s heart was the living sacrifice. His hands skimmed the ribbed hem of Levi’s undershirt. Without breaking the blistering eye contact, Levi lifted his arms, and Eren hiked the shirt up and over his head. Fuck carefulness. He flung it across the room, earning a scowl that only made him smirk back.
“You’ve still got more clothes on than me.” Eren slid his hands along the waistband of Levi’s pants, palmed over his crotch. Levi moaned appreciatively and tipped his head into Eren’s shoulder. “Fine, fine, I get it. I’ll hurry.” He pushed Eren off him, stripping off his pants, folding them in half, and draping them over the desk chair near Eren’s bed.
Though the action didn’t take long, Eren used it to admire Levi’s body in fresh relief, realizing then that maybe he had been crushing on this man for longer than he thought. He was certainly muscular, not overly so, more so a naturally lean build that fit his small frame. He had a collection of scars on his forearms, usually covered by long-sleeved shirts, and intertwined with the scars was the beginning ribbons of black ink. His right arm depicted a swirl of feathers that led up to a bird, bursting free from a cage. In between the scars on the left, the broken blade of a Japanese katana sword. There was a moon on his right shoulder, the cresting waves of the sea on his left, the foam ending just at the edge of his collarbone. A few words marked up his ribs, but Eren couldn’t make them out before Levi was up close and pushing him back against the pillows.
“I’ll tell you about them sometime,” Levi said. “Right now, I’d rather have my mouth otherwise occupied.”
*
It was about damn time Levi used his mouth for something other than spilling all his secrets.
He was never one to show his hand to anyone—not friends, not family, and certainly not sexual or romantic partners. Maybe he just needed to swear off gin from now on.
But there was an intimacy that sharing so much space, so much time with Eren had created, that the usual barriers Levi put up were long dissolved. How could he bite back words, smother his feelings? Eren already knew how he liked his coffee and what his favorite book was and how he listened to jazz while he graded essays and how leaving the windows open at any temperature below fifty made his fingers too numb to hold an Expo marker while teaching.
How could he hide from someone who already knew every bend and curve of him?
Levi locked his lips onto Eren’s neck, kissed and grazed his teeth against the sensitive skin until Eren was panting and trembling, then his mouth wandered down Eren’s chest. Once on a territory that work clothes could cover, Levi set to marking Eren’s skin with bright red hickeys. Eren fisted his hands in Levi’s hair, the tugs sending electric shocks of pleasure over his scalp.
“Eren,” Levi muttered, his lips brushing against Eren’s skin, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”
“So take me then,” Eren strangled out.
Levi’s grey eyes flicked up to him. He smirked. He’d never, ever let himself consciously indulge in fantasy of what it would be like to be with Eren. The one time his subconscious betrayed him and he had a sex dream about Eren, he called into work sick the next day so he wouldn’t have to face him right away. He forced himself to forget it entirely and returned perhaps even more distant than before.
But this…this was that dream, that fantasy times a thousand. Because Eren was real, his body warm, the touch of his fingers like flying sparks, his lips as sweet as the spring air.
Taking all of Eren was a request he couldn’t help but grant.
Levi yanked Eren’s boxers down and brought his lips to the head of Eren’s cock. It took all his willpower to go slow, to not try to undo Eren with his hands as quickly as possible.
Slowly, he hollowed out his cheeks, moved his mouth down, took Eren in until the tip of his nose brushed Eren’s skin.
A high, sharp whine escaped Eren. His breath jagged. His hands scrambling over Levi’s shoulders, searching for a place to hold on.
If this went further than blowing each other—if this went all the way—Levi wasn’t quite sure who would be the dominant one. He’d topped and taken the submissive role in sex plenty of times, and he really didn’t have a preference. Either way, he had a way of maintaining his control over the other person, from whatever position.
But Eren was different. Eren was a force of nature—a wildfire he couldn’t quite predict, a tsunami whose tide he couldn’t control. Levi had a feeling he would sweep him off his feet, knock him flat on his back, but how?
There was a tug on his hair, a whimper, and he remembered he still had his mouth on Eren. Right. Situation at hand. Based on the trembling of Eren’s thighs, he was getting close.
Levi swiped his tongue over Eren’s length and made him shudder. He gripped his hips with more force, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. He moved his mouth up and down and twisted his tongue all over Eren. Every wrecked moan that Eren let out only spurred him on.
Then—right as his thighs were tensing and the muscles in his core clenching—Eren pushed roughly at Levi’s shoulders. “Stop, stop, stop,” he gasped out. “I can’t—and I want—,”
Levi sat up and arched his eyebrows as he wiped the spit off his lips with the back of his hand. Eren croaked out something guttural at the sight.
Struggling to regain control over his breathing, Eren eased himself up into a sitting position. “I don’t want to come, yet,” he managed. “Would rather do that with you.”
Levi’s neglected cock throbbed, straining against the elastic of his underwear. Fuck. Was it possible to come from words alone? If so, Eren was getting him dangerously close.
Eren’s flushed chest, his messy brown hair, sweaty pieces around his temples and sticking to his forehead, his sparkling green eyes that were so full of lust, every perfect muscle and stretch of skin exposed—it wasn’t an image he would forget any time soon.
It must’ve been seeing him like that—yeah, it must’ve been—that made Levi say, “You can have me however you want me.” Jesus. Way to play your cards close, idiot, he chastised himself. He bit his lip.
“I, uh…” Eren rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed. “Do you have a preference?”
In that moment, Levi had never wanted to be fucked so badly in his life. His eyes dragged over every inch of Eren, but admitting that felt like a step too far, an admission too vulnerable to say. So he just shook his head.
Eren let out a breath. He crawled over to Levi, cupped his cheek in his hand. “Thank god,” he whispered, his breath whispering across Levi’s ear. “Because I want to be inside you so bad.”
Desire melted Levi’s bones; he dissolved into nothing against Eren.
Eren swept an arm around Levi and pressed him down onto his back, making his body buzz with anticipation. “Are you very noisy in bed?” he asked.
Levi’s mouthed tilted in a thoughtful frown. “I don’t think so?”
Eren squirted lube onto his fingers. “You will be,” he said.
It took all of two, maybe three strokes of his finger to tug a moan out of Levi. Small, stuttering. But definitely a moan. That one sound was clearly all Eren was looking for, and he chased it. He pressed against Levi’s walls, urging more sounds out of him, offering praising kisses to his hips when Levi let them out.
“Oh. Oh, fuck, Eren. Shit.”
Okay, maybe he did have a preference. And that preference was Eren, Eren’s hands, Eren’s mouth, everything that was Eren. Maybe he never wanted to be in control again, if it meant he was surrendering it to Eren.
“You can do better than that,” Eren whispered. He lowered his mouth to Levi’s cock at the same time he slid in a second finger and scissored him open.
“Ah!” Levi threw his head back onto the pillows. To say he was reacting like this against his will was both an exaggeration and an inaccuracy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it’s that he did it before he could even think what to do. It was something instinctual. It was a sort of pre-will, something he did without himself rather than in spite of himself. The instincts of his body became something of and for Eren instead.
Eren pulled his mouth away, but his fingers didn’t stop moving. “Tell me how it feels, Levi. Tell me how I make you feel.”
“Fuck,” Levi breathed. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his senses working. All that remained was touch; everything else was fading away. “Fuck, so good.” He gritted his teeth against saying more, but Eren hooked his fingers and stroked along his prostrate, and that broke down a whole dam of words. “S-so fucking good,” Levi stammered. “Oh, please, right there. You’re so good. So much better than I ever imagined.” What was he saying? And why? He could barely care.
But Eren caught the words. “Oh, you’ve imagined me, huh?” He licked up Levi’s length torturously slow, pressed a kiss to the head.
Levi nodded and cinched his eyes shut. He already felt so much closer than he ever expected, and this was just supposed to be the prep work.
“How?” Eren asked lowly. He slid his fingers out only to add in a third. When he pushed them in, it seemed to knock the breath right out of Levi’s lungs, and he gasped.
“Ah, hah, oh, oh, Eren, Eren.”
Eren just thrusted his fingers deeper against Levi’s sweet spot.
“Inafuckingdream,” Levi choked out. “Just once, but it was enough, and please, shit, I’m too close, stop, stop.”
Eren pulled away and sat back on his heels, grinning deviously. Levi flopped backwards, fighting his body back from tipping over the edge. “You’ll have to tell me about that dream sometime.”
Seeing as Eren was basically recreating it now, but better, Levi just blushed in response.
Eren moved close then, gathered Levi in his arms, and peppered his face with kisses. Somehow, even in their few minutes apart, Levi felt desperate anew for the feel of Eren’s lips, the taste of him. Then he broke away, to put on a condom and apply more lube. When their eyes met again, he draped Levi’s knees over his shoulders with a burning look. The green of his eyes was like the sky before an electric storm.
He caught Levi’s chin with a strong chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, Levi,” he whispered. “I still want to hear you.” And then he pushed in.
The cry that broke out of Levi was louder than anything that could contain words, more riddled with want than syllables. It was pure, undiluted need, coming straight from the center of him.
“Mmm,” Eren grunted as he bottomed out. “Yeah. Just like that.” One hand knotted in Levi’s black hair again. The tugging was…very hot. If anyone had ever pulled Levi’s hair before, he didn’t remember it, feel it, like he did for Eren. Apparently, everything about Eren came with much stronger feelings than Levi was used to.
His thighs shook from the stretch of Eren being fully inside him. He dug his nails into Eren’s shoulders and breathed deeply through his nose.
“I won’t move until you tell me,” Eren said. His voice was sweet, but Levi could hear the thinly-veiled lust. More like I won’t move until I hear you beg for it.
Levi shifted his hips, adjusting to the size of Eren. His breath hitched, eased. Eren ran his hands up and down his arms, fingernails scraping gently. “Need to feel you,” Levi said. Both a genuine need, and his requirement if Eren wanted him to keep talking. Go ahead and make me beg for you. Maybe even a challenge.
One he prayed Eren would accept.
Eren smiled, and rutted his hips slowly. The measured thrust sent a wave of pleasure rolling up through Levi, and he moaned. He wrapped his hands around Eren’s biceps and arched up into him, searching for more friction, for deeper contact, if that was possible.
Instead of meeting him, Eren pulled back slowly, almost all the way out. Just to thrust back in at full force, so hard Levi’s teeth clanked together and he almost bit his tongue. “Fuck!” The curse tore from his throat, and he felt the reverberations of Eren’s movement running up and down his spine. “Again, please, shit, need to feel you.”
Eren framed Levi’s face with his elbows, pressing even closer than before. He arched to pull out, then slammed in again. Levi’s body automatically found his way against Eren’s, pressing as tight as he could go, face against Eren’s shoulder to muffle the cries of pleasure coming from him. It was fucking pitiful. He was a gasping, whimpering mess after all of two thrusts from this man. He didn’t know how long he could last.
He said as much, sucking in a sharp lungful of air to catch his breath. “I’m not going to last if you keep this up.”
Easing up again, Eren rolled his hips at a steadier pace. He stroked Levi’s trembling thigh with his fingertips. “This better?”
More bearable, but also making the feeling of electricity shocking his body more consistent. He managed a nod.
Eren kissed his forehead approvingly, brushed Levi’s hair out of his eyes. Somehow the tender brush of his fingertips seemed to be everywhere at once, and that alone felt like more than Levi could stand for long, in the best way. Eren was just like the stupid little gin and tonics he made; sweet, with a twist, and each sip of him made Levi feel like he was falling deeper into oblivion.
God, it was embarrassing how much he liked this man.
The tight, coiling heat in Levi’s lower half, once spiking and receding, was now just mounting slowly, brewing and nearly boiling over in him. “Eren, I—,” what was he saying? Levi honestly had no idea where this sentence was going. His mouth was acting of its own accord. “I want this forever.” Fucking hell. “But I—I’m so—,”
Eren smiled sweetly, shifted his hips to be closer. “I know. Me too.” He didn’t ask Levi to say any more; he just picked up the pace and shifted his angle slightly until he found Levi’s prostate again.
“Oh. Eren, don’t—don’t stop,” Levi choked out. His throat felt too tight to speak, and yet he wanted nothing more than to say what Eren wanted to hear.
Eren set a bruising pace, driving into him over and over, nearly lifting Levi off the bed.
And Levi had never, ever been the type to be noisy in bed. And he could’ve held out; he could’ve proved Eren wrong, stayed quiet. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to call out Eren’s name, over and over, didn’t want to bite back the words tumbling from his lips.
So he didn’t.
“Eren, Eren, please, right there, I’m so close, god, you feel so good, oh, oh, yeah, Eren, please, I—I’m so close, I—Eren!” With a final gasp of his name, Levi came, spilling between their chests, and Eren followed close behind.
“Levi,” he whispered, his voice low and needy. He collapsed on top of him and caught his lips in a kiss.
The world was oblivion. Eren was all he ever wanted.
*
After cleaning up, Eren collapsed back beside Levi, and the smaller man immediately tucked himself against Eren’s chest. “We can’t let things get awkward between us,” he sighed. “That was way too good.”
“Catching feelings for each other while ninety middle schoolers look on? What could go wrong?” Eren joked.
Levi tilted his chin. “Catching? I think you mean caught.”
Eren smiled and kissed his forehead. “Fine. Trying to hide our obvious feelings from ninety middle schoolers, then.”
“That’s more accurate.”
“You’re a bit better at hiding, though,” Eren said. He traced his forefinger over the waves that crashed into the hollows of Levi’s shoulder.
“Not exactly. I think you were just too dumb to notice.”
Eren cast him a pretend-indignant look, and Levi kissed him, laughing.
“So…what. You’re telling me you’ve had a crush on me since…?”
“Since the first time we met,” Levi finished.
Eren’s heart stopped for a split second.
“I remember that you showed up at our classroom with a huge box of decorations and you were all sweaty and your hair was messy. But the sunlight hit you just right and you stuck out your hand, nearly dropped the box, and said, hi, Levi. It’s me, Eren. And…yeah. You were.”
Again, like there was a hook at the back of his throat, Eren’s words caught, held back by his breath. He kissed Levi slowly, softly, cherishing the press of his lips and the slide of his tongue, the way he tasted.
“Does our school have rules against dating?” Eren whispered.
“Dating?” Levi echoed. “You’re planning on buying me dinner, Jaeger?”
Eren knocked their knees together gently, and Levi grinned. “A lot of dinner dates, Mr. Ackerman.”
Levi arched to kiss the top of Eren’s head; Eren tucked his head into the crook of Levi’s shoulder, the waves tattooed there splashing against his cheek.
Levi’s encircled him in a loose hold, thumbs tracing over his ribs. After a moment of silence where their breaths automatically matched and their eyelids grew heavy, Eren dragged out of himself, “Tell me what they mean?”
Levi’s fingers stilled in their mindless path over Eren’s skin. “You’ll have to sit up.”
Eren eased himself up, his tired muscles protesting. The clock on his bedside table glowed nine p.m.—the teacher witching hour—but only the beginning of his night with Levi, he could sense.
Levi leaned back against the headboard, his posture perhaps the most relaxed Eren had ever seen. He stretched out his right arm first, and Eren caught their fingers. Maintaining the loose hold, Levi began to speak.
“A lot of them relate to the same thing. I had a rough childhood. My parents died when I was young, I was on and off the streets, shuffled around group homes and a stint in juvie. I don’t think I felt anything at all, and so I let violence be what woke me up.”
Secret number four clicked into place: how Levi was so good with the kids who thought acting tough or picking fights was cool. He’d been there. He’d lived it. And gently, calmly, he had a way of evening them out, soothing the flames burning in them.
“The scars are from a bad knife fight I got into when I was seventeen.” Levi lifted his left arm and showed that the words on his ribs encircled a larger scar. “They’re mostly on my arms because that’s all I had to defend myself. But some of them, I put there myself.” Levi’s eyes flicked up to him. “I haven’t told anyone that before.”
The air between them settled, stilled.
Eren squeezed his fingers.
Levi cleared his throat. “So the feathers…the bird…I think it’s obvious. Breaking out of that old life. I think it was a cage I grew a little too comfortable in. I started to think I belonged there, or I deserved it there. Lost some feathers along the way, but learned how to fly.” He pushed a hand through his dark hair, cheeks reddening. “Sounds fucking cheesy when I say it aloud.”
“It’s beautiful,” Eren said. His voice was hushed, and he didn’t know why. Maybe Levi was a secret he wanted to keep all to himself, and he didn’t dare breathe it aloud. “You’re beautiful, Levi.”
Levi scoffed, his cheeks only getting redder. His eyes cut away from Eren. “Uhm. Well, the katana was to fill the space on the left arm, and I’m half-Japanese, so…”
“Why is it broken?” Eren asked.
“Because I am,” Levi said. “But the shards are still weapons of their own. They can still have power. And so do I.”
Eren let his fingers slide up Levi’s arm. He kissed each feather, each broken shard of sword, each ribbony scar. Though he only saw in stolen glances, he heard Levi’s lips part, saw his eyes shining with awe.
This room, this bed, was suspended from the rest of the world. Or maybe the world had shrunk to contain only them, there was only Levi in the entire earth.
Of their own accord, Eren’s fingertips found their way to the words encircling the deep scar on Levi’s ribcage. When Levi lifted his arm, Eren ducked his head to press his lips to each dark, curling letter.
The words came into focus before his eyes: dedicate your heart, or give up your dreams.
Pulling away, Eren slid sideways and laid his head on Levi’s thigh, face pressed to his stomach. He didn’t need to ask for Levi to explain.
“It’s a choice I was faced with. A…version of what my social worker told me, actually. That I could fight all my life, but it was clear I was fighting to be loved, and I would never find it in my fists. So I had to dedicate my heart to healing instead of fighting, or I would die from my stupid dreams.”
“What did you dream of?”
Levi tilted a shoulder. “Revenge. Justice. Love that could be won—it can’t, or it’s not real. Purpose. Balance.” He tapped his forefinger to the moon tattoo on his shoulder. “The moon controls the tide. Constant push and pull, endless balance. I hoped if my heart was between them, I could find some peace.”
Eren traced his thumb over the shape of the moon, the curve of the waves. “And did you?”
Levi exhaled heavily. He cupped Eren’s cheek. “I hope so,” he said.
There was a hush in the room. Eren kissed Levi once more, and closed his eyes. The night wrapped around them like a blanket, and they fell into sleep.
In the morning, when Eren’s school alarm went off, the bed beside him was empty and there was a text on his phone from Levi: I’m sorry, I’m a little more married to my morning routine than I am to you ;) I made a pot of coffee before I left. Hope that’s okay.
Much more than okay. His day at school started with a quick kiss from Levi, the taste of coffee still on both of their lips.
It took the more observant students—their favorites, that is—all of one morning to pick up on the shift between their two favorite teachers.
From Hange: “Are you tired, Mr. Ackerman? You look tired. You too, Mr. Jaeger. Were you both up late...grading?”
And during lunch with the lonely-hearts club, when Conny started a conversation about tattoos and how many they wanted, Eren made the fatal mistake of saying, “Mr. Ackerman has tattoos. You should ask him about them sometime, Conny.”
To which Conny said, grinning deviously, “How do you know that, Mr. J? I’ve never seen them.”
Well, at least evidence had proven that the students shipping them wasn’t the worst thing in the world.