“This is just a quicker way to heat water,” you tell him as you carry the device to the sink. “All you have to do is set it back on its base and turn it on.”

You supplement your words with the coinciding actions. A light on the handle glows a bright blue when you press the switch down, indicating power, and Levi studies it.

“Once the water reaches a boil, it will shut off on its own,” you continue. “So there’s no serious risk of you doing it wrong and setting anything on fire.”

Levi’s eyes skip between you and the kettle with rapt attention. A small blue ceramic mug waits on the counter near his elbow, along with the box of tea that you’d purchased for him the day before.

With nothing else to do while you both wait, you busy yourself by wiping down the kitchen countertops. You can feel Levi’s watchful eyes on you, which feels a bit odd, but he just crosses his arms, unmoving from his position leaned against the opposite counter. You get halfway through before he speaks up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

You pause and look over your shoulder. “How the hell am I doing it wrong?”

With a stern frown, Levi marches over and pulls the damp wipe out of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that he’s taking the task seriously by the look of concentration on his face as he begins to go back over the counters in tight, circular movements.

Slowly, he goes over the entire kitchen and the residual liquid that’s left over dries and disappears, leaving it just as spotless as it was before.

You look over the counters, then back to Levi.

“Did your journey to the future also give you some sort of vision that allows you to see stuff I can’t?” you ask in a flat tone. “Because that looks exactly the same.”

Levi rolls his eyes before abandoning the wipe on the counter and returning to his original spot. ”You’re the one who decided we needed to clean this morning.”

“I needed to clean,” you quickly correct, pointing to your chest. “I didn’t ask you to help.”

“Learn to do it right and I won’t have to.”

You resist the urge to reply and choose instead to sit in a chair at the small dining table, surveying the kitchen for any unfinished work. Thankfully though, most everything has already been done.

The satisfaction of completed chores tempers your ire a little and you glance at your phone. In large boldface type, the time takes up most of the top half of your screen, and underneath it sits a text message notification from Allie. You must not have heard it go off earlier.

[Allie]: Hey! I’m doing the final count for seats next weekend. You’re coming right?

Oh, shit. Allie’s engagement party. With everything going on the last few days, you’d forgotten it was coming up.

A renewed feeling of dread curls up in your stomach at the idea, followed immediately by guilt. You should be happy for her—and you are—but this party has felt like a dark cloud hanging over your head ever since she first told you about it.

Realistically, there’s no way out of attending. As a bridesmaid, you’re more or less required to show up. The only problem is so are the groomsmen.

You sigh to yourself and chew thoughtfully at your lower lip, trying to come up with a decent response. If you were being honest, you’d tell her that you’d rather streak naked down main street during rush hour traffic, but you get the sense that she already knows by the second message that quickly appears on your screen.

[Allie]: I’m having the seats assigned, so don’t worry about it.

You huff another sigh and drop your phone back down onto the table.

“Something wrong?”

You nearly jump at the sound of Levi’s voice, forgetting for a moment that he was there. When you look up, he’s seated across from you with a now-steaming cup of tea held precariously by the rim.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if the uneasiness you feel now is from the text or the way he’s holding his cup, and shake your head. “I’m fine.”

God, what are you even going to wear to this thing? You don’t have a single article of clothing that even feels remotely suitable for an engagement party. What do people even wear to those kinds of events? Something reasonably formal, you’d assume. So, a dress. When’s the last time you even wore a dress?

Unfazed by your silent dilemma, Levi lifts his mug to his lips. To your horror, he does so exactly as you expect him to: with the rim of the cup carefully secured by the tips of his fingers, ignoring the handle.

It’s so.. natural, the way that he does it. Just like the way he cleaned your countertop and carefully makes his bed every morning to remove any creases…

“Are you hungry?” you ask suddenly, your pitch a little high as you try to force several trains of thought away at once. “It’s a little late for breakfast, but I could make us something.”

Levi meets your gaze with a dubious lift of his brows. “If your cooking is anything like your cleaning, I’m not sure I want to.”

You stare at him for a moment, beginning to wonder if he’s always so crabby in the mornings, when you notice the smallest hint of something much lighter in his expression.

For some reason, you feel the urge to smile. “Oh, you’re joking,” you realize. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” You get to your feet. “I’ll make eggs. How do you want yours?”

He turns his gaze towards the window when he says, “I don’t care.”

With free reign over the food, you get to work. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortable. You’re used to the silence and Levi seems comfortable with it. You keep expecting him to eventually wander into the living room when it becomes obvious you’re preoccupied, but he doesn’t. He just sips his tea and occasionally looks out of the window.

He must not mind your company then either, if he’s willing to share the space.

Pretty soon, the smell of cooked onions and toasted bread fills your apartment. The sound of the sizzling pan entices Luna from her hiding place, and you spend a few minutes filling her food bowl before dividing out two plates of food with fluffy scrambled eggs, toast, and some sliced fruit.

You carry them over, placing one in front of Levi before sitting down.

“We should go out today,” you tell him.

Levi looks up. “And do what?”

You glance out of the window. Outside, the sun has reached its peak, bathing the city in a golden glow. With all of your errands done, you can spend the rest of your days off doing whatever you’d like. But you have some more practical ideas for today at least.

“We could get you some clothes,” you suggest, turning to look him over. He’s dressed today in the white button down and trousers you found him in. While they’re freshly laundered, there are still signs of wear. Frayed edges around the cuffs and a small split in the shoulder seam.

Plus, if anything is going to trigger any lost memories he might have, it would be interacting with the outside world.

He must think you have a good point, because he doesn’t immediately respond with something sarcastic.

Instead, he gives you a flat look and says, “I don’t have any money.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So, no.”

You frown. “Oh, come on. You can’t just wear the same outfit every day.”

The frown on his face that appeared the moment you suggested it doesn’t budge, but a thoughtful little crease forms between his brows that wasn’t there before. You have a point and he knows it.

“I’m not suggesting an entire wardrobe. Just a few things,” you say, using his uncertainty to your advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you add, “I said I’d help you.”

He pokes a bit passively at his food with a fork. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You don’t actually. Not that he needs to know how clear your schedule is outside of work. But even if you did have a thriving social life, you can still recognize that he’s clearly in an unfamiliar situation. Time travel or not, it would be beneficial to him to have your help.

You take a deep breath. “Let's say hypothetically that you did travel through time,” you tell him, pausing to take a bite of a strawberry. “Do you really want to try to figure out how the world works now on your own?”

After a moment of deliberation, he shrugs. “I’m sure I could figure it out.”

You frown. Clearly this wasn’t going to be so easy. What happened to ‘there are worse things in the world’?

“If you don’t want my help, just say so,” you say.

“I just don’t understand what you stand to gain from it,” he counters.

Ah. There it is: distrust has reared its ugly head once more.

Your shoulders drop as you stab into your eggs next. “The honor of experiencing your sparkling personality, clearly,” you grumble.

Levi raises his brows. “Oh, you’re being funny now?”

“There’s no reason I can’t be both altruistic and funny.”

“Don’t forget annoying.”

“It’s better than being Mr-Mysterious-Cool-Guy who doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Fine.” He scowls and you blink, surprised by how quickly he changed his mind. Like it pains him, he clarifies quickly, “But just a few things.”

***

Once you’ve both finished your food, you head out together.

Predictably, the main retail street is packed with people—businessmen in expensive suits, tourists walking with their phones out, locals with their heads down to keep from looking like easy targets for pickpockets.

You lead the way through the crowds until you make it to the stretch of clothing stores that line both sides of the street. Large signs illuminate the facades of buildings; advertisements flash and shift along their quick electronic script.

Levi takes it all in slowly.

You think you’re getting better at decoding his microexpressions. The subtle downward turn of his lips and his widened eyes look a bit like wonder.

A cheerful young woman greets you as you walk inside one of the more reasonably priced shops. She waves from her spot where she seems to be folding and arranging sweaters on a small display table, and you veer left around her toward the men’s section.

It strikes you that you’ve never really shopped for another person before, and you slow your pace.

“Well.” You stretch out your arms as if to gesture to the racks and shelves of clothing before you. “I guess just look around and see what you like.”

It certainly doesn’t look as if Levi is keen on the idea. His mouth forms a thin line as he scans over the displays.

With his arms crossed, he steps toward the aisles. You let him go and look around the brightly lit showroom. It’s been almost a year since you’ve done any sort of shopping for yourself. All of the advertisements along the walls are gearing up for the fast approaching fall season, displaying smiling men and women in warm shades of orange and red.

You glance at Levi again. He’s sorting through a stack of shirts nearby with halfhearted interest, but at least he’s trying. In one hand, he holds a thick green sweater made of cable knit cotton. In the other, a cream-colored turtleneck.

“Those are nice,” you comment, joining him at the display table. You reach to test the quality of the fabric between your fingers and another thought occurs to you. “Hey, you’ll probably need to buy a coat too. It’ll be getting pretty cold soon.”

Levi grimaces. “I’ll be fine.” He moves to another rack and you follow.

A few minutes pass while he skims through a few different types of shirts. You stay quiet in an attempt to allow him to concentrate, but you also get the sense that maybe he thinks you’re being overbearing. A feeling that is all but confirmed when he speaks again.

“Do you have anything you need to buy?” he asks suddenly.

You shrug, then remember Allie’s text. “Actually, yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “You should go look then.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes.” He hisses, not leaving any room to misinterpret him. “I can choose my own clothes. Go.”

You leave him with a quick reminder to find you when he’s done and head to the opposite side of the store.

The dress section isn’t as amply stocked as it might be in the summer or spring, but there are still a few options available that you find while skimming through the racks: a long, ankle-length periwinkle dress embellished with floral print and a dainty lace collar, a shorter green a-line dress with drapey, off-shoulder sleeves, and a baby pink dress with a quaint little bow on the front.

You take a look around for a mirror once you’ve gathered them all in your arms. This would be easier if you had a friend here with you to get an opinion. Are any of these even appropriate for an engagement party? Is ankle-length too conservative? Off-shoulder too casual? 

The green dress is the softest material—something you could see yourself feeling comfortable in during a long dinner event—and it’s also a nice, calf skimming mid-length that doesn’t feel too casual. 

You glance towards the men’s section, but quickly give up on the idea of asking for Levi’s opinion. He’d probably just say the first thing that gets you to leave him alone the fastest.

You wish you knew how to get him to trust you a bit more. For a moment this morning, it seemed like he was actually letting his guard down a little, but he’s right back to acting as if you’re an inconvenience.

With a heavy sigh, you drape the green dress over your arm and shove the other two dresses back onto the rack. It would have to do.

By some miracle, you manage to convince Levi to leave with three shirts, two pairs of trousers, and a decent coat.

It isn’t that expensive, but Levi still follows you back out onto the street with a mumbled promise to pay you back. Knowing that he doesn’t have the means to uphold that promise, you simply nod and lead the way back to the metro.

And maybe it’s your overzealous drive to be helpful or perhaps some subconscious desire to get on Levi’s good side, but when you see him looking around at the city again, you get an idea.

“Do you want to go up?”

He looks over at you, still walking. “Up where?”

“To the top of one of those.” You point to the nearest building, its highest level disappearing into the clouds. “There’s an observation tower in one of the tallest buildings in the city. Bit of a tourist trap, but it has a really nice view of everything and it’s not far from here.”

Levi’s eyes widen just a fraction and he looks back up. “You can go up there?”

“Yeah.” Taking the initiative, you start leading the way with purpose. “It’s just two stops away. Let’s go.”

It takes less than fifteen minutes to get on the metro and walk to the observation tower. 

Levi follows beside you closely, silent but watchful as you lead the way to the desk to pay for tickets. As you’re led to the elevator with a group, he reads each placard on the wall dictating the history of the building and its construction.

“It says the view is over 400 meters above street level,” Levi comments as everyone climbs into the elevator. It’s a tight fit with everyone, and you do your best to not encroach on Levi’s personal space much. 

“Mhm,” you confirm, tensing a little as the elevator rumbles to life. The uncomfortable swoop of your stomach makes you take a slow exhale before continuing. “It’s one of the tallest buildings in the country.”

A mother standing in front of you readjusts her child’s stroller, forcing you to take a step into Levi’s personal space. Others chat excitedly amongst themselves and you try to keep yourself evenly balanced as the elevator continues to sway.

You quickly glance at the display in the corner, watching the number tick up as the elevator continues to climb. Ten, twelve… Only a hundred more to go.

“Are you okay?”

You turn to see Levi watching you closely, that thoughtful curiosity now turned onto you.

You nod, but he’s not buying it. “You look a little sick.”

You feel a little sick. Every subtle jolt of the elevator sends your stomach into a somersault, and it doesn’t help that everyone is crammed so close together. You’re sure you could count each of Levi’s eyelashes if you really wanted.

You look away, back to the digital display at the front. “I’m just… not fond of heights.”

“Then why did you suggest we go up over 400 meters?”

You shrug a little weakly. “You looked really curious about the buildings. I thought you might like it.”

Levi sighs, but he doesn’t argue further. The most you get is a mild look of annoyance and a firm hand on your back when you manage to step on his shoe as the woman in front of you moves again.

It’s a little better when you finally get to the top floor. The elevator empties and you exit slowly, letting the large families with children rush ahead. 

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” Levi says, frowning before clarifying. “Put others before yourself.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to the crowd of people or the idea of coming up here despite your fear of heights, but maybe that’s his point.

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’ve been up here a few times before. I’ll just sit down away from the windows anyway. You can go ahead if you want.”

Despite your encouragement, he keeps pace with you down the short corridor until the area opens out into full floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city sprawls and spreads out, stretching to each end of the horizon as far as the eye can see.

Once it comes into full view, Levi slows until he’s stopped in the middle of the room. The expressions on his face are unmistakable this time: Surprise. Shock. Awe.

Less surprised, you walk on wobbly legs to an unoccupied bench and take a seat. Small children do a little to block the view, pressing their tiny hands to the glass and standing on their tiptoes as if that will give them a better look below.

Eventually, Levi joins them at the windows. You watch him, avoiding looking directly at the windows. It’s cute, you briefly think, how in some ways his amazement mirrors theirs. His eyes, normally a stormy and skeptical grey, are now full of curiosity. They linger over several familiar landmarks: Freedom Park in the heart of the city, the curve of the river as it disappears over the horizon towards the sea, the jagged silhouette of the distant skyline.

It’s exactly the reaction you were hoping for.

You sit and wait as Levi takes his time looking at the view. His surprise turns contemplative before gradually smoothing out into something more neutral again. When he turns and makes his way back to where you’re sitting, he stops to look at one of the large information bulletins on your right.

“There are more buildings like this one?” he asks softly.

You hum at his question, then turn to see the map he’s looking at. At various points across the country, there are buildings marked with their locations and heights. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure there are.” You study it for a moment and point between two points. “We’re here, and that one is in another city.” Then to another. “This one is in another country. It’s even taller.”

His brows furrow at the new information. “And it’s not… dangerous?”

You think for a moment, wondering where his thought process is going. “Well, no. Not really. Structurally, they’re pretty safe. It’s not like it’ll collapse on its own, and they’re designed with the weather in mind.”

Before either of you are able to speak again, your phone goes off in your hand with another bright chime.

When you bring it to eye level, you see that it’s Allie again. You had forgotten to reply earlier.

[Allie]: Let me know when you can!

“What is that thing anyway?”

You look up. “This?” you ask, twirling the device in your palm. “Uh, it’s a phone.” When that explanation doesn’t seem to work, you add, “You can use it to talk to people. Either by calling them or sending them messages.”

“Is that why it’s been making so much noise?” Levi asks. “You’re talking to someone?”

You nod. “My friend, Allie.”

He turns back to the map for a moment. “People usually look happy when talking to a friend.”

You have to stop yourself from cringing. Had you really been that obvious?

“I am,” you sigh. Thinking about it makes you anxiously twist your finger around the handle of your shopping bag. “There’s just this party she wants me to go to, and I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“So, don’t go.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it would be to him.

“I don’t really have a choice,” you explain. “It’s an engagement party.”

“Why don’t you want to go?” he questions.

You pause for a moment. “My ex is one of the groomsmen.”

Realization settles into his expression. “So, he’ll be there,” he supplies for you.

You nod.

There’s a beat of silence, and Levi turns once more to the map.

“Haven’t moved on?” 

Your eyes go wide. “No, no! I have, it’s just…” God, how do you explain it without sounding pathetic? You take a breath and try again. “I don’t want to look like a complete loser. After he broke up with me, he got this huge promotion and he has this new girlfriend and they travel all the time. We just never did stuff like that together.” You chuckle, the sound a bit bitter before continuing, “And here I am, still working long hours at the hospital and bringing homeless men back to my apartment.”

Levi watches you as he listens, but his expression remains entirely unreadable. 

You sigh again and look away. “Sorry. I know you don’t really care.”

“I never said I didn’t care,” he’s surprisingly quick to say.

“Yeah, but what’s a stupid engagement party to a thousand year old time traveler?” you chuckle, trying to shift the mood to something a bit more lighthearted. “You don’t need my sob story.”

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions.”

You give him a playful grin. “So, you’re not a thousand year old time traveler?”

That seems to break the tension a bit at least. Levi rolls his eyes and takes a seat next to you. For a long moment, it’s quiet save for the excited screeching of children. 

“Have you ever heard of Paradis?” Levi suddenly asks. “Or a place called Marley?”

Just that question alone is enough to send your stomach flipping again. The worst part is how genuine he sounds when he says it.

Actually, no. The real worst part is how you think you’re starting to believe he really could be Levi Ackerman. Maybe. Just a little.

You try to keep your voice casual when you look over at him. “Is that where you’re from?”

He nods. “I think you do know,” he says before you have a chance to really answer. “Because that’s the only way you would have known I’m a Scout.”

You blink. “What are you talking about?”

“The night you brought me back to your place,” he reminds you. “You recognized my uniform. And ever since I got here, you’ve looked at me like you already know who I am.”

Damn. He’s more observant than you’ve given him credit for. It’d almost be impressive if he wasn’t glaring at you with such a guarded look on his face. But you suppose that might explain why he’s been so irritable.

It’s so frighteningly familiar. So very… Levi of him.

But how are you going to look him in the eye and explain that the person he was dressed as is fictional? You get the sense that he’ll probably just think you’re crazy, and he wouldn’t be unreasonable to think so. It’s part of why you haven’t brought it up yet, but another part of you is worried how he’ll react. You think you’ve been around him enough by now to assume he won’t be angry, but this is a highly unusual situation.

Only one way to find out, you guess.

You sigh, resigning yourself to whatever happens next. “I think it’s better if I just show you.”

Xavier's tongue was tracing the edge of his knuckle where your first release had coated him. His eyes had gone almost entirely black, pupils blown so wide there was barely any color left, every bit of that darkness was fixed between your thighs.

Behind you, Zayne exhaled, low and unsteady, the sound catching in his throat before it reached your skin. He hadn't moved back. He had moved closer, pressing his hard cock between your ass, the friction made it clear his medical textbooks hadn't prepared him for how much he actually wanted to ruin you right now.

"That requires an entirely different approach," Zayne's voice was thicker and rougher than it had been. His hands tightened on your waist before he said anything else. Then he bent his head, lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear.

"Are you alright with this? Do you want to show them?"

Your head had already begun to fall back against his shoulder and the whimper that came out of you wasn't something you'd planned.

"Yeah"

His patience didn't leave exactly, but it changed shape, it became something slower. His hand moved from your waist, sliding up until his palm curved around your breast again, broad, warm and unhurried. His thumb found your nipple without searching for it and he began to roll it between his fingers with a steady pressure that sat right on the edge of too much and didn't waver.

"The G-spot," he said, his voice settling back into something that almost resembled composure, "isn't about surface stimulation. It isn't about rhythm either." He pinched your nipple lightly, and your breath caught. He continued as though he hadn't noticed, or perhaps because he had. "Squirting isn't something you can rush. We've spent nearly twenty minutes on foreplay and that's perfect because the entire pelvic region needs time to fill with blood, to become fully engorged. Without that, it won't work."

His thumb moved in a slow circle around your nipple, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.

"The targets are the paraurethral glands. Small, about the size of a pea, sitting on either side of the urethra, close to her G-spot. Most people don't know they exist. Most people don't know what they're capable of." A pause. "You're about to learn."

Xavier's voice came quiet and low. "I want to try."

Whatever remained of the quiet, compliant boy from freshman orientation—the one who'd handed you a campus map and apologized for bumping into you—was gone. Completely. He moved forward until he was wedged between your legs, his thighs pressing firmly against your calves.

A cold spike of something, fear, want, the particular overwhelm of both arriving at once, shot straight down your spine. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, a reflexive flinch against the intensity of his gaze, the nearness of him and the reality of what was about to happen. Your knees had barely begun to move before something stopped them.

Caleb moved to the edge of the mattress and closed his hand over your right knee. Not gently. He pressed it down and out over Zayne's thigh, his grip immovable, the kind that didn't invite negotiation. You weren't going to close yourself off. He'd made that clear without saying a word.

Rafayel took your left. His fingers found the inside of your knee and held on with trembling pressure.

You looked down at them through the blur of whiskey and heat.

Caleb's jaw was locked, a muscle jumping in his cheek like he was chewing through something. The flush on his neck had darkened to something almost bruised, creeping up toward his jaw, his breath coming in audible hitches he wasn't bothering to hide anymore. Rafayel had his bottom lip caught between his teeth hard enough to drain the color from it, his eyes tracking every shiver that moved through your body like he was trying to memorize them.

And then lower.

A small, damp circle had bled through the gray of Rafayel's sweatpants. The front of Sylus's pants were pulled tight, a matching wet spot darkening the fabric, spreading slightly every time he exhaled.

"Keep her steady." Zayne's hips kept moving, that same slow roll against you, while his fingers worked both of your nipples at once, rolling and pinching until heat shot straight down through your stomach and didn't stop.

"Xavier." His tone shifted into something clinical "Two fingers, palm facing up toward her navel. Her arousal is sufficient as a baseline, but you need to use the lubricant on my nightstand. I don't want friction, I don't want any tissue irritation." A pause, weighted. "Once you're inside, feel along the anterior wall. There will be a ridge, different from the surrounding tissue. Think of the roof of your mouth."

Xavier reached for the lubricant and coated his fingers slowly, his hands were shaking. Then he brought them to your entrance, just the tips at first, barely making contact, and paused there for a breath that felt longer than it was.

He pushed in slowly.

Inch by inch, the stretch of it opening you around him, his fingers pressing through the heat and slick of you with patience. His eyes had gone wide by the time his fingertips swept up and found it, the ridge Zayne had described, unmistakable, exactly where he'd said it would be.

A cry tore out of you before you could stop it, fractured and too loud. It rang off the walls and you knew without question it had carried straight down the hallway outside.

Sylus shadow fell over you before he leaned down, face unreadable, there was a particular stillness of someone exerting tremendous control. His thumb caught your chin and pressed your jaw down, and then his fingers were in your mouth, muffling whatever came next. You closed your lips around them without thinking. Your tongue found his knuckles and you pulled him in, sucking hard, needing the solid reality of him to hold onto, something grounding while everything else was coming apart.

"Keep it down, sweetie." he said. Low. Almost gentle.

"Like this?" Xavier's voice came from below, strained thin.

He had begun to move, curling his fingers up, knuckles dragging against your entrance with every stroke while his fingertips pressed into the ridged wall above. He went deeper with each repetition. Not faster. Deeper, the hook of his fingers catching on the sensitive texture inside you and holding there just long enough before pulling back and doing it again.

"Slower."

Zayne's breath was scorching against your neck, his fingers never stopping, working your nipples with a precision that had stolen most of your ability to think. Behind you his hips pushed forward, heavier than before, a frustrated grind that he didn't bother to disguise.

"You're skimming the surface," he said. "Press into it. Maintain the motion and add external pressure to the clitoris, combine both. Increase as the tissue expands." His voice dropped slightly. "Can you feel how she's changing around you? How she's pulling you in?"

Xavier made a sound low in his throat, almost involuntary, his head dipping forward. His thumb came down against your pelvic bone and he adjusted his angle, pushing deeper until his knuckles were completely slick. His strokes slowed and firmed, each one pressing up into you with a patience that was clearly costing him something.

"It's getting tighter," he said, voice fraying at the edges. "It's... it's pushing back. She's so hot inside."

"She's engorging, the fluid is building in the glands. You cannot break the rhythm, not now, not for anything. If you ease up even slightly, the accumulation dissipates and you lose everything you've built."

He said it like a warning. Like he was saying it to himself as much as Xavier.

It was nothing like before.

Not the sharp, electric jolt of Zayne's thumb. this was something else entirely. Deeper. Heavier. A fullness that built with every stroke and didn't recede, coiling low in your abdomen like pressure with nowhere to go. Every time Xavier's fingers found that spot and pressed, a wave rolled through you, enormous and terrifying, making you want to beg for something you didn't have words for. You bit down on Sylus's knuckles without meaning to, eyes losing focus, your whole body tightening around a point you couldn't reach.

On either side of you, Caleb and Rafayel hadn't moved. Couldn't. Their knuckles had gone white where they held your legs open, and their eyes were fixed on Xavier's hand, on the way his fingers disappeared into you and came back slick, on the wetness that had gone past the point of containment. It was pooling at your entrance, spilling over and running down Xavier's wrist.

It was Rafayel who broke first.

"Zayne." His voice came out cracked, barely holding together. He swallowed hard, his gaze still locked on the fluid stringing between your skin and Xavier's hand, his body giving him away beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. "She's...fuck...it's leaking. Is she close?"

"She's almost there."

Zayne's voice had lost everything clinical about it now. Whatever composure he'd been maintaining had come apart completely, leaving only this—his fingers digging into your nipples, pinching hard, driving the sensation past the point of bearable while his hips pressed into you with desperation.

"Xavier. Fast circles on her clit, other hand, now." A beat. "Force it."

Xavier looked up at your face instead.

Your eyes had gone hazy, barely tracking, tears gathering at the corners from nothing but sheer overwhelm. Your lips were still wrapped around Sylus's fingers, your chest heaving in ragged pulls, small broken sounds escaping around his knuckles every time Xavier moved inside you. You were completely undone. Anyone could see it.

Xavier saw it too.

He didn't raise his hand to your clit. Something shifted behind his eyes, a flash of something reckless and deliberate, the look of someone who had been quietly calculating this exact moment and had finally decided to take it.

"You said anything I can do with my hands," he murmured, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper, "I can enhance with my mouth, right?."

His blonde hair fell across his forehead as he leaned down.

"Xavier—" Zayne's voice came sharp with warning.

Too late.

Xavier buried his face between your thighs.

The heat of his mouth hit you without warning.

Xavier's tongue sealed over your clit and the sound that came out of you was strangled, swallowed by Sylus's fingers, barely contained. He didn't tease. He remembered every word Zayne had said, flattened his tongue broad and wet against you, using the full weight of it to meet the pressure building from inside, while his fingers hooked harder and began to move in a rhythm that was merciless and gave you absolutely nothing to brace against.

"Breathe." Zayne's lips found your temple and pressed them there, warm and close. "What you're feeling, the fullness, the urgency, it will feel exactly like a need to release. That's correct. That's exactly right." His breath shook against your skin. "Don't fight it. Bear down. Let your pelvic floor go completely. Let it happen."

You stopped fighting.

You exhaled and let go. Your pelvic floor released and you bore down against the hook of Xavier's fingers, against the wet relentless press of his tongue, and for one suspended second everything went very still.

Then your body locked.

Every muscle seized at once, thighs convulsing against Caleb and Rafayel's grip. They leaned their full weight into your knees and held. Caleb let out a breathless "fuuuuck look at her". You bit down on Sylus's fingers hard enough to feel his knuckles against your teeth, vision narrowing to nothing.

It came in a rush, clear and forceful, spilling over Xavier's chin, across his cheeks, soaking into the fabric beneath you. His fingers stayed where they were, buried deep, riding out every contraction as your body clenched around him in waves that didn't stop, that pulled at him and wouldn't let go.

He didn't pull back. His tongue kept moving through it, his jaw working, his nose pressed to your skin while you sobbed through the aftershocks, open, head falling back against Zayne's shoulder again, with the full dead weight of someone who had nothing left to hold onto.

The room went quiet before you heard the slow, wet sound of Xavier withdrawing his fingers. Sylus drew his hand from your mouth just as slowly, his thumb dragging across your lower lip, catching a smear of saliva and wiping it away. He didn't look away from your face. The darkness in his eyes hadn't lifted. It had settled into something that made it very clear this wasn't over.

Xavier raised his head.

His face was flushed deep, his lips wet, a streak of fluid catching the lamplight as it ran down the line of his jaw and dripped onto his collarbone. He looked up at Zayne.

He looked like someone who had just discovered something he couldn't un know.

"Like that?" Xavier asked. The smugness in his voice was not even slightly hidden.

Zayne didn't answer right away.

He was staring down at the space between your thighs, at the soaked mattress, at the evidence of everything his careful, clinical framework had produced. His chest rose and fell hard against your back, his breath coming uneven against your neck, and you felt it before you fully understood what it was, a spreading warmth behind you, seeping through the fabric of his trousers, pressing into you. Unmistakable.

"Yes," Zayne said finally. His voice was stripped of every careful layer he'd spent the entire evening constructing "Exactly like that."

Perm tag: @thealunari @i-idk-i-guess @hopelesslala @pearlescenthoney @stillseiims @xavisastrophil @thelastpolarbear @groovyravenagain @nanaminsmuse @darkairenkagamine @lunahaswings @ks-collection @calebunny @aweebs @crimsonrubie @lemurian-girl @aiycnlyme

Tags for this series: @maescorners @bitterprincipality @cordidy @everythingistaken00 @weirdothatwrites @someonestopsoren @linearrr @space-grl02 @ahandacrossspace @fiyoripim @colonelkaboom @emmyemmaemmity @darkangeloftartaraus @zayniesnowangel @imsearchingforwords @kivvy-ryt-here @prchiquita8

Soooo, there will be more of this...if I forgot to tag someone I'm so sorry. Let me know if you want me to tag you on the next part.

Chapter 3:Rafayel

Chapter 4: Xavier

Chapter 5: Caleb

Chapter 6: Sylus

“This is just a quicker way to heat water,” you tell him as you carry the device to the sink. “All you have to do is set it back on its base and turn it on.”

You supplement your words with the coinciding actions. A light on the handle glows a bright blue when you press the switch down, indicating power, and Levi studies it.

“Once the water reaches a boil, it will shut off on its own,” you continue. “So there’s no serious risk of you doing it wrong and setting anything on fire.”

Levi’s eyes skip between you and the kettle with rapt attention. A small blue ceramic mug waits on the counter near his elbow, along with the box of tea that you’d purchased for him the day before.

With nothing else to do while you both wait, you busy yourself by wiping down the kitchen countertops. You can feel Levi’s watchful eyes on you, which feels a bit odd, but he just crosses his arms, unmoving from his position leaned against the opposite counter. You get halfway through before he speaks up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

You pause and look over your shoulder. “How the hell am I doing it wrong?”

With a stern frown, Levi marches over and pulls the damp wipe out of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that he’s taking the task seriously by the look of concentration on his face as he begins to go back over the counters in tight, circular movements.

Slowly, he goes over the entire kitchen and the residual liquid that’s left over dries and disappears, leaving it just as spotless as it was before.

You look over the counters, then back to Levi.

“Did your journey to the future also give you some sort of vision that allows you to see stuff I can’t?” you ask in a flat tone. “Because that looks exactly the same.”

Levi rolls his eyes before abandoning the wipe on the counter and returning to his original spot. ”You’re the one who decided we needed to clean this morning.”

“I needed to clean,” you quickly correct, pointing to your chest. “I didn’t ask you to help.”

“Learn to do it right and I won’t have to.”

You resist the urge to reply and choose instead to sit in a chair at the small dining table, surveying the kitchen for any unfinished work. Thankfully though, most everything has already been done.

The satisfaction of completed chores tempers your ire a little and you glance at your phone. In large boldface type, the time takes up most of the top half of your screen, and underneath it sits a text message notification from Allie. You must not have heard it go off earlier.

[Allie]: Hey! I’m doing the final count for seats next weekend. You’re coming right?

Oh, shit. Allie’s engagement party. With everything going on the last few days, you’d forgotten it was coming up.

A renewed feeling of dread curls up in your stomach at the idea, followed immediately by guilt. You should be happy for her—and you are—but this party has felt like a dark cloud hanging over your head ever since she first told you about it.

Realistically, there’s no way out of attending. As a bridesmaid, you’re more or less required to show up. The only problem is so are the groomsmen.

You sigh to yourself and chew thoughtfully at your lower lip, trying to come up with a decent response. If you were being honest, you’d tell her that you’d rather streak naked down main street during rush hour traffic, but you get the sense that she already knows by the second message that quickly appears on your screen.

[Allie]: I’m having the seats assigned, so don’t worry about it.

You huff another sigh and drop your phone back down onto the table.

“Something wrong?”

You nearly jump at the sound of Levi’s voice, forgetting for a moment that he was there. When you look up, he’s seated across from you with a now-steaming cup of tea held precariously by the rim.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if the uneasiness you feel now is from the text or the way he’s holding his cup, and shake your head. “I’m fine.”

God, what are you even going to wear to this thing? You don’t have a single article of clothing that even feels remotely suitable for an engagement party. What do people even wear to those kinds of events? Something reasonably formal, you’d assume. So, a dress. When’s the last time you even wore a dress?

Unfazed by your silent dilemma, Levi lifts his mug to his lips. To your horror, he does so exactly as you expect him to: with the rim of the cup carefully secured by the tips of his fingers, ignoring the handle.

It’s so.. natural, the way that he does it. Just like the way he cleaned your countertop and carefully makes his bed every morning to remove any creases…

“Are you hungry?” you ask suddenly, your pitch a little high as you try to force several trains of thought away at once. “It’s a little late for breakfast, but I could make us something.”

Levi meets your gaze with a dubious lift of his brows. “If your cooking is anything like your cleaning, I’m not sure I want to.”

You stare at him for a moment, beginning to wonder if he’s always so crabby in the mornings, when you notice the smallest hint of something much lighter in his expression.

For some reason, you feel the urge to smile. “Oh, you’re joking,” you realize. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” You get to your feet. “I’ll make eggs. How do you want yours?”

He turns his gaze towards the window when he says, “I don’t care.”

With free reign over the food, you get to work. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortable. You’re used to the silence and Levi seems comfortable with it. You keep expecting him to eventually wander into the living room when it becomes obvious you’re preoccupied, but he doesn’t. He just sips his tea and occasionally looks out of the window.

He must not mind your company then either, if he’s willing to share the space.

Pretty soon, the smell of cooked onions and toasted bread fills your apartment. The sound of the sizzling pan entices Luna from her hiding place, and you spend a few minutes filling her food bowl before dividing out two plates of food with fluffy scrambled eggs, toast, and some sliced fruit.

You carry them over, placing one in front of Levi before sitting down.

“We should go out today,” you tell him.

Levi looks up. “And do what?”

You glance out of the window. Outside, the sun has reached its peak, bathing the city in a golden glow. With all of your errands done, you can spend the rest of your days off doing whatever you’d like. But you have some more practical ideas for today at least.

“We could get you some clothes,” you suggest, turning to look him over. He’s dressed today in the white button down and trousers you found him in. While they’re freshly laundered, there are still signs of wear. Frayed edges around the cuffs and a small split in the shoulder seam.

Plus, if anything is going to trigger any lost memories he might have, it would be interacting with the outside world.

He must think you have a good point, because he doesn’t immediately respond with something sarcastic.

Instead, he gives you a flat look and says, “I don’t have any money.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So, no.”

You frown. “Oh, come on. You can’t just wear the same outfit every day.”

The frown on his face that appeared the moment you suggested it doesn’t budge, but a thoughtful little crease forms between his brows that wasn’t there before. You have a point and he knows it.

“I’m not suggesting an entire wardrobe. Just a few things,” you say, using his uncertainty to your advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you add, “I said I’d help you.”

He pokes a bit passively at his food with a fork. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You don’t actually. Not that he needs to know how clear your schedule is outside of work. But even if you did have a thriving social life, you can still recognize that he’s clearly in an unfamiliar situation. Time travel or not, it would be beneficial to him to have your help.

You take a deep breath. “Let's say hypothetically that you did travel through time,” you tell him, pausing to take a bite of a strawberry. “Do you really want to try to figure out how the world works now on your own?”

After a moment of deliberation, he shrugs. “I’m sure I could figure it out.”

You frown. Clearly this wasn’t going to be so easy. What happened to ‘there are worse things in the world’?

“If you don’t want my help, just say so,” you say.

“I just don’t understand what you stand to gain from it,” he counters.

Ah. There it is: distrust has reared its ugly head once more.

Your shoulders drop as you stab into your eggs next. “The honor of experiencing your sparkling personality, clearly,” you grumble.

Levi raises his brows. “Oh, you’re being funny now?”

“There’s no reason I can’t be both altruistic and funny.”

“Don’t forget annoying.”

“It’s better than being Mr-Mysterious-Cool-Guy who doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Fine.” He scowls and you blink, surprised by how quickly he changed his mind. Like it pains him, he clarifies quickly, “But just a few things.”

***

Once you’ve both finished your food, you head out together.

Predictably, the main retail street is packed with people—businessmen in expensive suits, tourists walking with their phones out, locals with their heads down to keep from looking like easy targets for pickpockets.

You lead the way through the crowds until you make it to the stretch of clothing stores that line both sides of the street. Large signs illuminate the facades of buildings; advertisements flash and shift along their quick electronic script.

Levi takes it all in slowly.

You think you’re getting better at decoding his microexpressions. The subtle downward turn of his lips and his widened eyes look a bit like wonder.

A cheerful young woman greets you as you walk inside one of the more reasonably priced shops. She waves from her spot where she seems to be folding and arranging sweaters on a small display table, and you veer left around her toward the men’s section.

It strikes you that you’ve never really shopped for another person before, and you slow your pace.

“Well.” You stretch out your arms as if to gesture to the racks and shelves of clothing before you. “I guess just look around and see what you like.”

It certainly doesn’t look as if Levi is keen on the idea. His mouth forms a thin line as he scans over the displays.

With his arms crossed, he steps toward the aisles. You let him go and look around the brightly lit showroom. It’s been almost a year since you’ve done any sort of shopping for yourself. All of the advertisements along the walls are gearing up for the fast approaching fall season, displaying smiling men and women in warm shades of orange and red.

You glance at Levi again. He’s sorting through a stack of shirts nearby with halfhearted interest, but at least he’s trying. In one hand, he holds a thick green sweater made of cable knit cotton. In the other, a cream-colored turtleneck.

“Those are nice,” you comment, joining him at the display table. You reach to test the quality of the fabric between your fingers and another thought occurs to you. “Hey, you’ll probably need to buy a coat too. It’ll be getting pretty cold soon.”

Levi grimaces. “I’ll be fine.” He moves to another rack and you follow.

A few minutes pass while he skims through a few different types of shirts. You stay quiet in an attempt to allow him to concentrate, but you also get the sense that maybe he thinks you’re being overbearing. A feeling that is all but confirmed when he speaks again.

“Do you have anything you need to buy?” he asks suddenly.

You shrug, then remember Allie’s text. “Actually, yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “You should go look then.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes.” He hisses, not leaving any room to misinterpret him. “I can choose my own clothes. Go.”

You leave him with a quick reminder to find you when he’s done and head to the opposite side of the store.

The dress section isn’t as amply stocked as it might be in the summer or spring, but there are still a few options available that you find while skimming through the racks: a long, ankle-length periwinkle dress embellished with floral print and a dainty lace collar, a shorter green a-line dress with drapey, off-shoulder sleeves, and a baby pink dress with a quaint little bow on the front.

You take a look around for a mirror once you’ve gathered them all in your arms. This would be easier if you had a friend here with you to get an opinion. Are any of these even appropriate for an engagement party? Is ankle-length too conservative? Off-shoulder too casual? 

The green dress is the softest material—something you could see yourself feeling comfortable in during a long dinner event—and it’s also a nice, calf skimming mid-length that doesn’t feel too casual. 

You glance towards the men’s section, but quickly give up on the idea of asking for Levi’s opinion. He’d probably just say the first thing that gets you to leave him alone the fastest.

You wish you knew how to get him to trust you a bit more. For a moment this morning, it seemed like he was actually letting his guard down a little, but he’s right back to acting as if you’re an inconvenience.

With a heavy sigh, you drape the green dress over your arm and shove the other two dresses back onto the rack. It would have to do.

By some miracle, you manage to convince Levi to leave with three shirts, two pairs of trousers, and a decent coat.

It isn’t that expensive, but Levi still follows you back out onto the street with a mumbled promise to pay you back. Knowing that he doesn’t have the means to uphold that promise, you simply nod and lead the way back to the metro.

And maybe it’s your overzealous drive to be helpful or perhaps some subconscious desire to get on Levi’s good side, but when you see him looking around at the city again, you get an idea.

“Do you want to go up?”

He looks over at you, still walking. “Up where?”

“To the top of one of those.” You point to the nearest building, its highest level disappearing into the clouds. “There’s an observation tower in one of the tallest buildings in the city. Bit of a tourist trap, but it has a really nice view of everything and it’s not far from here.”

Levi’s eyes widen just a fraction and he looks back up. “You can go up there?”

“Yeah.” Taking the initiative, you start leading the way with purpose. “It’s just two stops away. Let’s go.”

It takes less than fifteen minutes to get on the metro and walk to the observation tower. 

Levi follows beside you closely, silent but watchful as you lead the way to the desk to pay for tickets. As you’re led to the elevator with a group, he reads each placard on the wall dictating the history of the building and its construction.

“It says the view is over 400 meters above street level,” Levi comments as everyone climbs into the elevator. It’s a tight fit with everyone, and you do your best to not encroach on Levi’s personal space much. 

“Mhm,” you confirm, tensing a little as the elevator rumbles to life. The uncomfortable swoop of your stomach makes you take a slow exhale before continuing. “It’s one of the tallest buildings in the country.”

A mother standing in front of you readjusts her child’s stroller, forcing you to take a step into Levi’s personal space. Others chat excitedly amongst themselves and you try to keep yourself evenly balanced as the elevator continues to sway.

You quickly glance at the display in the corner, watching the number tick up as the elevator continues to climb. Ten, twelve… Only a hundred more to go.

“Are you okay?”

You turn to see Levi watching you closely, that thoughtful curiosity now turned onto you.

You nod, but he’s not buying it. “You look a little sick.”

You feel a little sick. Every subtle jolt of the elevator sends your stomach into a somersault, and it doesn’t help that everyone is crammed so close together. You’re sure you could count each of Levi’s eyelashes if you really wanted.

You look away, back to the digital display at the front. “I’m just… not fond of heights.”

“Then why did you suggest we go up over 400 meters?”

You shrug a little weakly. “You looked really curious about the buildings. I thought you might like it.”

Levi sighs, but he doesn’t argue further. The most you get is a mild look of annoyance and a firm hand on your back when you manage to step on his shoe as the woman in front of you moves again.

It’s a little better when you finally get to the top floor. The elevator empties and you exit slowly, letting the large families with children rush ahead. 

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” Levi says, frowning before clarifying. “Put others before yourself.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to the crowd of people or the idea of coming up here despite your fear of heights, but maybe that’s his point.

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’ve been up here a few times before. I’ll just sit down away from the windows anyway. You can go ahead if you want.”

Despite your encouragement, he keeps pace with you down the short corridor until the area opens out into full floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city sprawls and spreads out, stretching to each end of the horizon as far as the eye can see.

Once it comes into full view, Levi slows until he’s stopped in the middle of the room. The expressions on his face are unmistakable this time: Surprise. Shock. Awe.

Less surprised, you walk on wobbly legs to an unoccupied bench and take a seat. Small children do a little to block the view, pressing their tiny hands to the glass and standing on their tiptoes as if that will give them a better look below.

Eventually, Levi joins them at the windows. You watch him, avoiding looking directly at the windows. It’s cute, you briefly think, how in some ways his amazement mirrors theirs. His eyes, normally a stormy and skeptical grey, are now full of curiosity. They linger over several familiar landmarks: Freedom Park in the heart of the city, the curve of the river as it disappears over the horizon towards the sea, the jagged silhouette of the distant skyline.

It’s exactly the reaction you were hoping for.

You sit and wait as Levi takes his time looking at the view. His surprise turns contemplative before gradually smoothing out into something more neutral again. When he turns and makes his way back to where you’re sitting, he stops to look at one of the large information bulletins on your right.

“There are more buildings like this one?” he asks softly.

You hum at his question, then turn to see the map he’s looking at. At various points across the country, there are buildings marked with their locations and heights. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure there are.” You study it for a moment and point between two points. “We’re here, and that one is in another city.” Then to another. “This one is in another country. It’s even taller.”

His brows furrow at the new information. “And it’s not… dangerous?”

You think for a moment, wondering where his thought process is going. “Well, no. Not really. Structurally, they’re pretty safe. It’s not like it’ll collapse on its own, and they’re designed with the weather in mind.”

Before either of you are able to speak again, your phone goes off in your hand with another bright chime.

When you bring it to eye level, you see that it’s Allie again. You had forgotten to reply earlier.

[Allie]: Let me know when you can!

“What is that thing anyway?”

You look up. “This?” you ask, twirling the device in your palm. “Uh, it’s a phone.” When that explanation doesn’t seem to work, you add, “You can use it to talk to people. Either by calling them or sending them messages.”

“Is that why it’s been making so much noise?” Levi asks. “You’re talking to someone?”

You nod. “My friend, Allie.”

He turns back to the map for a moment. “People usually look happy when talking to a friend.”

You have to stop yourself from cringing. Had you really been that obvious?

“I am,” you sigh. Thinking about it makes you anxiously twist your finger around the handle of your shopping bag. “There’s just this party she wants me to go to, and I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“So, don’t go.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it would be to him.

“I don’t really have a choice,” you explain. “It’s an engagement party.”

“Why don’t you want to go?” he questions.

You pause for a moment. “My ex is one of the groomsmen.”

Realization settles into his expression. “So, he’ll be there,” he supplies for you.

You nod.

There’s a beat of silence, and Levi turns once more to the map.

“Haven’t moved on?” 

Your eyes go wide. “No, no! I have, it’s just…” God, how do you explain it without sounding pathetic? You take a breath and try again. “I don’t want to look like a complete loser. After he broke up with me, he got this huge promotion and he has this new girlfriend and they travel all the time. We just never did stuff like that together.” You chuckle, the sound a bit bitter before continuing, “And here I am, still working long hours at the hospital and bringing homeless men back to my apartment.”

Levi watches you as he listens, but his expression remains entirely unreadable. 

You sigh again and look away. “Sorry. I know you don’t really care.”

“I never said I didn’t care,” he’s surprisingly quick to say.

“Yeah, but what’s a stupid engagement party to a thousand year old time traveler?” you chuckle, trying to shift the mood to something a bit more lighthearted. “You don’t need my sob story.”

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions.”

You give him a playful grin. “So, you’re not a thousand year old time traveler?”

That seems to break the tension a bit at least. Levi rolls his eyes and takes a seat next to you. For a long moment, it’s quiet save for the excited screeching of children. 

“Have you ever heard of Paradis?” Levi suddenly asks. “Or a place called Marley?”

Just that question alone is enough to send your stomach flipping again. The worst part is how genuine he sounds when he says it.

Actually, no. The real worst part is how you think you’re starting to believe he really could be Levi Ackerman. Maybe. Just a little.

You try to keep your voice casual when you look over at him. “Is that where you’re from?”

He nods. “I think you do know,” he says before you have a chance to really answer. “Because that’s the only way you would have known I’m a Scout.”

You blink. “What are you talking about?”

“The night you brought me back to your place,” he reminds you. “You recognized my uniform. And ever since I got here, you’ve looked at me like you already know who I am.”

Damn. He’s more observant than you’ve given him credit for. It’d almost be impressive if he wasn’t glaring at you with such a guarded look on his face. But you suppose that might explain why he’s been so irritable.

It’s so frighteningly familiar. So very… Levi of him.

But how are you going to look him in the eye and explain that the person he was dressed as is fictional? You get the sense that he’ll probably just think you’re crazy, and he wouldn’t be unreasonable to think so. It’s part of why you haven’t brought it up yet, but another part of you is worried how he’ll react. You think you’ve been around him enough by now to assume he won’t be angry, but this is a highly unusual situation.

Only one way to find out, you guess.

You sigh, resigning yourself to whatever happens next. “I think it’s better if I just show you.”

“This is just a quicker way to heat water,” you tell him as you carry the device to the sink. “All you have to do is set it back on its base and turn it on.”

You supplement your words with the coinciding actions. A light on the handle glows a bright blue when you press the switch down, indicating power, and Levi studies it.

“Once the water reaches a boil, it will shut off on its own,” you continue. “So there’s no serious risk of you doing it wrong and setting anything on fire.”

Levi’s eyes skip between you and the kettle with rapt attention. A small blue ceramic mug waits on the counter near his elbow, along with the box of tea that you’d purchased for him the day before.

With nothing else to do while you both wait, you busy yourself by wiping down the kitchen countertops. You can feel Levi’s watchful eyes on you, which feels a bit odd, but he just crosses his arms, unmoving from his position leaned against the opposite counter. You get halfway through before he speaks up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

You pause and look over your shoulder. “How the hell am I doing it wrong?”

With a stern frown, Levi marches over and pulls the damp wipe out of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that he’s taking the task seriously by the look of concentration on his face as he begins to go back over the counters in tight, circular movements.

Slowly, he goes over the entire kitchen and the residual liquid that’s left over dries and disappears, leaving it just as spotless as it was before.

You look over the counters, then back to Levi.

“Did your journey to the future also give you some sort of vision that allows you to see stuff I can’t?” you ask in a flat tone. “Because that looks exactly the same.”

Levi rolls his eyes before abandoning the wipe on the counter and returning to his original spot. ”You’re the one who decided we needed to clean this morning.”

“I needed to clean,” you quickly correct, pointing to your chest. “I didn’t ask you to help.”

“Learn to do it right and I won’t have to.”

You resist the urge to reply and choose instead to sit in a chair at the small dining table, surveying the kitchen for any unfinished work. Thankfully though, most everything has already been done.

The satisfaction of completed chores tempers your ire a little and you glance at your phone. In large boldface type, the time takes up most of the top half of your screen, and underneath it sits a text message notification from Allie. You must not have heard it go off earlier.

[Allie]: Hey! I’m doing the final count for seats next weekend. You’re coming right?

Oh, shit. Allie’s engagement party. With everything going on the last few days, you’d forgotten it was coming up.

A renewed feeling of dread curls up in your stomach at the idea, followed immediately by guilt. You should be happy for her—and you are—but this party has felt like a dark cloud hanging over your head ever since she first told you about it.

Realistically, there’s no way out of attending. As a bridesmaid, you’re more or less required to show up. The only problem is so are the groomsmen.

You sigh to yourself and chew thoughtfully at your lower lip, trying to come up with a decent response. If you were being honest, you’d tell her that you’d rather streak naked down main street during rush hour traffic, but you get the sense that she already knows by the second message that quickly appears on your screen.

[Allie]: I’m having the seats assigned, so don’t worry about it.

You huff another sigh and drop your phone back down onto the table.

“Something wrong?”

You nearly jump at the sound of Levi’s voice, forgetting for a moment that he was there. When you look up, he’s seated across from you with a now-steaming cup of tea held precariously by the rim.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if the uneasiness you feel now is from the text or the way he’s holding his cup, and shake your head. “I’m fine.”

God, what are you even going to wear to this thing? You don’t have a single article of clothing that even feels remotely suitable for an engagement party. What do people even wear to those kinds of events? Something reasonably formal, you’d assume. So, a dress. When’s the last time you even wore a dress?

Unfazed by your silent dilemma, Levi lifts his mug to his lips. To your horror, he does so exactly as you expect him to: with the rim of the cup carefully secured by the tips of his fingers, ignoring the handle.

It’s so.. natural, the way that he does it. Just like the way he cleaned your countertop and carefully makes his bed every morning to remove any creases…

“Are you hungry?” you ask suddenly, your pitch a little high as you try to force several trains of thought away at once. “It’s a little late for breakfast, but I could make us something.”

Levi meets your gaze with a dubious lift of his brows. “If your cooking is anything like your cleaning, I’m not sure I want to.”

You stare at him for a moment, beginning to wonder if he’s always so crabby in the mornings, when you notice the smallest hint of something much lighter in his expression.

For some reason, you feel the urge to smile. “Oh, you’re joking,” you realize. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” You get to your feet. “I’ll make eggs. How do you want yours?”

He turns his gaze towards the window when he says, “I don’t care.”

With free reign over the food, you get to work. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortable. You’re used to the silence and Levi seems comfortable with it. You keep expecting him to eventually wander into the living room when it becomes obvious you’re preoccupied, but he doesn’t. He just sips his tea and occasionally looks out of the window.

He must not mind your company then either, if he’s willing to share the space.

Pretty soon, the smell of cooked onions and toasted bread fills your apartment. The sound of the sizzling pan entices Luna from her hiding place, and you spend a few minutes filling her food bowl before dividing out two plates of food with fluffy scrambled eggs, toast, and some sliced fruit.

You carry them over, placing one in front of Levi before sitting down.

“We should go out today,” you tell him.

Levi looks up. “And do what?”

You glance out of the window. Outside, the sun has reached its peak, bathing the city in a golden glow. With all of your errands done, you can spend the rest of your days off doing whatever you’d like. But you have some more practical ideas for today at least.

“We could get you some clothes,” you suggest, turning to look him over. He’s dressed today in the white button down and trousers you found him in. While they’re freshly laundered, there are still signs of wear. Frayed edges around the cuffs and a small split in the shoulder seam.

Plus, if anything is going to trigger any lost memories he might have, it would be interacting with the outside world.

He must think you have a good point, because he doesn’t immediately respond with something sarcastic.

Instead, he gives you a flat look and says, “I don’t have any money.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So, no.”

You frown. “Oh, come on. You can’t just wear the same outfit every day.”

The frown on his face that appeared the moment you suggested it doesn’t budge, but a thoughtful little crease forms between his brows that wasn’t there before. You have a point and he knows it.

“I’m not suggesting an entire wardrobe. Just a few things,” you say, using his uncertainty to your advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you add, “I said I’d help you.”

He pokes a bit passively at his food with a fork. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You don’t actually. Not that he needs to know how clear your schedule is outside of work. But even if you did have a thriving social life, you can still recognize that he’s clearly in an unfamiliar situation. Time travel or not, it would be beneficial to him to have your help.

You take a deep breath. “Let's say hypothetically that you did travel through time,” you tell him, pausing to take a bite of a strawberry. “Do you really want to try to figure out how the world works now on your own?”

After a moment of deliberation, he shrugs. “I’m sure I could figure it out.”

You frown. Clearly this wasn’t going to be so easy. What happened to ‘there are worse things in the world’?

“If you don’t want my help, just say so,” you say.

“I just don’t understand what you stand to gain from it,” he counters.

Ah. There it is: distrust has reared its ugly head once more.

Your shoulders drop as you stab into your eggs next. “The honor of experiencing your sparkling personality, clearly,” you grumble.

Levi raises his brows. “Oh, you’re being funny now?”

“There’s no reason I can’t be both altruistic and funny.”

“Don’t forget annoying.”

“It’s better than being Mr-Mysterious-Cool-Guy who doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Fine.” He scowls and you blink, surprised by how quickly he changed his mind. Like it pains him, he clarifies quickly, “But just a few things.”

***

Once you’ve both finished your food, you head out together.

Predictably, the main retail street is packed with people—businessmen in expensive suits, tourists walking with their phones out, locals with their heads down to keep from looking like easy targets for pickpockets.

You lead the way through the crowds until you make it to the stretch of clothing stores that line both sides of the street. Large signs illuminate the facades of buildings; advertisements flash and shift along their quick electronic script.

Levi takes it all in slowly.

You think you’re getting better at decoding his microexpressions. The subtle downward turn of his lips and his widened eyes look a bit like wonder.

A cheerful young woman greets you as you walk inside one of the more reasonably priced shops. She waves from her spot where she seems to be folding and arranging sweaters on a small display table, and you veer left around her toward the men’s section.

It strikes you that you’ve never really shopped for another person before, and you slow your pace.

“Well.” You stretch out your arms as if to gesture to the racks and shelves of clothing before you. “I guess just look around and see what you like.”

It certainly doesn’t look as if Levi is keen on the idea. His mouth forms a thin line as he scans over the displays.

With his arms crossed, he steps toward the aisles. You let him go and look around the brightly lit showroom. It’s been almost a year since you’ve done any sort of shopping for yourself. All of the advertisements along the walls are gearing up for the fast approaching fall season, displaying smiling men and women in warm shades of orange and red.

You glance at Levi again. He’s sorting through a stack of shirts nearby with halfhearted interest, but at least he’s trying. In one hand, he holds a thick green sweater made of cable knit cotton. In the other, a cream-colored turtleneck.

“Those are nice,” you comment, joining him at the display table. You reach to test the quality of the fabric between your fingers and another thought occurs to you. “Hey, you’ll probably need to buy a coat too. It’ll be getting pretty cold soon.”

Levi grimaces. “I’ll be fine.” He moves to another rack and you follow.

A few minutes pass while he skims through a few different types of shirts. You stay quiet in an attempt to allow him to concentrate, but you also get the sense that maybe he thinks you’re being overbearing. A feeling that is all but confirmed when he speaks again.

“Do you have anything you need to buy?” he asks suddenly.

You shrug, then remember Allie’s text. “Actually, yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “You should go look then.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes.” He hisses, not leaving any room to misinterpret him. “I can choose my own clothes. Go.”

You leave him with a quick reminder to find you when he’s done and head to the opposite side of the store.

The dress section isn’t as amply stocked as it might be in the summer or spring, but there are still a few options available that you find while skimming through the racks: a long, ankle-length periwinkle dress embellished with floral print and a dainty lace collar, a shorter green a-line dress with drapey, off-shoulder sleeves, and a baby pink dress with a quaint little bow on the front.

You take a look around for a mirror once you’ve gathered them all in your arms. This would be easier if you had a friend here with you to get an opinion. Are any of these even appropriate for an engagement party? Is ankle-length too conservative? Off-shoulder too casual? 

The green dress is the softest material—something you could see yourself feeling comfortable in during a long dinner event—and it’s also a nice, calf skimming mid-length that doesn’t feel too casual. 

You glance towards the men’s section, but quickly give up on the idea of asking for Levi’s opinion. He’d probably just say the first thing that gets you to leave him alone the fastest.

You wish you knew how to get him to trust you a bit more. For a moment this morning, it seemed like he was actually letting his guard down a little, but he’s right back to acting as if you’re an inconvenience.

With a heavy sigh, you drape the green dress over your arm and shove the other two dresses back onto the rack. It would have to do.

By some miracle, you manage to convince Levi to leave with three shirts, two pairs of trousers, and a decent coat.

It isn’t that expensive, but Levi still follows you back out onto the street with a mumbled promise to pay you back. Knowing that he doesn’t have the means to uphold that promise, you simply nod and lead the way back to the metro.

And maybe it’s your overzealous drive to be helpful or perhaps some subconscious desire to get on Levi’s good side, but when you see him looking around at the city again, you get an idea.

“Do you want to go up?”

He looks over at you, still walking. “Up where?”

“To the top of one of those.” You point to the nearest building, its highest level disappearing into the clouds. “There’s an observation tower in one of the tallest buildings in the city. Bit of a tourist trap, but it has a really nice view of everything and it’s not far from here.”

Levi’s eyes widen just a fraction and he looks back up. “You can go up there?”

“Yeah.” Taking the initiative, you start leading the way with purpose. “It’s just two stops away. Let’s go.”

It takes less than fifteen minutes to get on the metro and walk to the observation tower. 

Levi follows beside you closely, silent but watchful as you lead the way to the desk to pay for tickets. As you’re led to the elevator with a group, he reads each placard on the wall dictating the history of the building and its construction.

“It says the view is over 400 meters above street level,” Levi comments as everyone climbs into the elevator. It’s a tight fit with everyone, and you do your best to not encroach on Levi’s personal space much. 

“Mhm,” you confirm, tensing a little as the elevator rumbles to life. The uncomfortable swoop of your stomach makes you take a slow exhale before continuing. “It’s one of the tallest buildings in the country.”

A mother standing in front of you readjusts her child’s stroller, forcing you to take a step into Levi’s personal space. Others chat excitedly amongst themselves and you try to keep yourself evenly balanced as the elevator continues to sway.

You quickly glance at the display in the corner, watching the number tick up as the elevator continues to climb. Ten, twelve… Only a hundred more to go.

“Are you okay?”

You turn to see Levi watching you closely, that thoughtful curiosity now turned onto you.

You nod, but he’s not buying it. “You look a little sick.”

You feel a little sick. Every subtle jolt of the elevator sends your stomach into a somersault, and it doesn’t help that everyone is crammed so close together. You’re sure you could count each of Levi’s eyelashes if you really wanted.

You look away, back to the digital display at the front. “I’m just… not fond of heights.”

“Then why did you suggest we go up over 400 meters?”

You shrug a little weakly. “You looked really curious about the buildings. I thought you might like it.”

Levi sighs, but he doesn’t argue further. The most you get is a mild look of annoyance and a firm hand on your back when you manage to step on his shoe as the woman in front of you moves again.

It’s a little better when you finally get to the top floor. The elevator empties and you exit slowly, letting the large families with children rush ahead. 

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” Levi says, frowning before clarifying. “Put others before yourself.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to the crowd of people or the idea of coming up here despite your fear of heights, but maybe that’s his point.

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’ve been up here a few times before. I’ll just sit down away from the windows anyway. You can go ahead if you want.”

Despite your encouragement, he keeps pace with you down the short corridor until the area opens out into full floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city sprawls and spreads out, stretching to each end of the horizon as far as the eye can see.

Once it comes into full view, Levi slows until he’s stopped in the middle of the room. The expressions on his face are unmistakable this time: Surprise. Shock. Awe.

Less surprised, you walk on wobbly legs to an unoccupied bench and take a seat. Small children do a little to block the view, pressing their tiny hands to the glass and standing on their tiptoes as if that will give them a better look below.

Eventually, Levi joins them at the windows. You watch him, avoiding looking directly at the windows. It’s cute, you briefly think, how in some ways his amazement mirrors theirs. His eyes, normally a stormy and skeptical grey, are now full of curiosity. They linger over several familiar landmarks: Freedom Park in the heart of the city, the curve of the river as it disappears over the horizon towards the sea, the jagged silhouette of the distant skyline.

It’s exactly the reaction you were hoping for.

You sit and wait as Levi takes his time looking at the view. His surprise turns contemplative before gradually smoothing out into something more neutral again. When he turns and makes his way back to where you’re sitting, he stops to look at one of the large information bulletins on your right.

“There are more buildings like this one?” he asks softly.

You hum at his question, then turn to see the map he’s looking at. At various points across the country, there are buildings marked with their locations and heights. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure there are.” You study it for a moment and point between two points. “We’re here, and that one is in another city.” Then to another. “This one is in another country. It’s even taller.”

His brows furrow at the new information. “And it’s not… dangerous?”

You think for a moment, wondering where his thought process is going. “Well, no. Not really. Structurally, they’re pretty safe. It’s not like it’ll collapse on its own, and they’re designed with the weather in mind.”

Before either of you are able to speak again, your phone goes off in your hand with another bright chime.

When you bring it to eye level, you see that it’s Allie again. You had forgotten to reply earlier.

[Allie]: Let me know when you can!

“What is that thing anyway?”

You look up. “This?” you ask, twirling the device in your palm. “Uh, it’s a phone.” When that explanation doesn’t seem to work, you add, “You can use it to talk to people. Either by calling them or sending them messages.”

“Is that why it’s been making so much noise?” Levi asks. “You’re talking to someone?”

You nod. “My friend, Allie.”

He turns back to the map for a moment. “People usually look happy when talking to a friend.”

You have to stop yourself from cringing. Had you really been that obvious?

“I am,” you sigh. Thinking about it makes you anxiously twist your finger around the handle of your shopping bag. “There’s just this party she wants me to go to, and I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“So, don’t go.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it would be to him.

“I don’t really have a choice,” you explain. “It’s an engagement party.”

“Why don’t you want to go?” he questions.

You pause for a moment. “My ex is one of the groomsmen.”

Realization settles into his expression. “So, he’ll be there,” he supplies for you.

You nod.

There’s a beat of silence, and Levi turns once more to the map.

“Haven’t moved on?” 

Your eyes go wide. “No, no! I have, it’s just…” God, how do you explain it without sounding pathetic? You take a breath and try again. “I don’t want to look like a complete loser. After he broke up with me, he got this huge promotion and he has this new girlfriend and they travel all the time. We just never did stuff like that together.” You chuckle, the sound a bit bitter before continuing, “And here I am, still working long hours at the hospital and bringing homeless men back to my apartment.”

Levi watches you as he listens, but his expression remains entirely unreadable. 

You sigh again and look away. “Sorry. I know you don’t really care.”

“I never said I didn’t care,” he’s surprisingly quick to say.

“Yeah, but what’s a stupid engagement party to a thousand year old time traveler?” you chuckle, trying to shift the mood to something a bit more lighthearted. “You don’t need my sob story.”

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions.”

You give him a playful grin. “So, you’re not a thousand year old time traveler?”

That seems to break the tension a bit at least. Levi rolls his eyes and takes a seat next to you. For a long moment, it’s quiet save for the excited screeching of children. 

“Have you ever heard of Paradis?” Levi suddenly asks. “Or a place called Marley?”

Just that question alone is enough to send your stomach flipping again. The worst part is how genuine he sounds when he says it.

Actually, no. The real worst part is how you think you’re starting to believe he really could be Levi Ackerman. Maybe. Just a little.

You try to keep your voice casual when you look over at him. “Is that where you’re from?”

He nods. “I think you do know,” he says before you have a chance to really answer. “Because that’s the only way you would have known I’m a Scout.”

You blink. “What are you talking about?”

“The night you brought me back to your place,” he reminds you. “You recognized my uniform. And ever since I got here, you’ve looked at me like you already know who I am.”

Damn. He’s more observant than you’ve given him credit for. It’d almost be impressive if he wasn’t glaring at you with such a guarded look on his face. But you suppose that might explain why he’s been so irritable.

It’s so frighteningly familiar. So very… Levi of him.

But how are you going to look him in the eye and explain that the person he was dressed as is fictional? You get the sense that he’ll probably just think you’re crazy, and he wouldn’t be unreasonable to think so. It’s part of why you haven’t brought it up yet, but another part of you is worried how he’ll react. You think you’ve been around him enough by now to assume he won’t be angry, but this is a highly unusual situation.

Only one way to find out, you guess.

You sigh, resigning yourself to whatever happens next. “I think it’s better if I just show you.”