#mobulev

(also on ao3)

~~~~~

There weren’t many things that surprised Moblit anymore. Working under Hange had made him immune to the shock of the uncertain and unknown. But that didn’t mean there still weren’t some things that managed to catch him off guard.

Like when Levi said

“Sure.”

Moblit was joking when he had asked if Levi wanted to go out drinking with him. He expected a curt “No”, accompanied by a disgusted scowl, as that was what anyone else ever got. Even Erwin, on those rare nights he wasn’t cooped up in his office, was rebuffed time and again.

“…Really?”

“Yeah. I could use one.”

Moblit bought the first round - a double shot of whiskey that slid down his throat like gravel. Levi bought the next and this one went down a little easier. They continued like that back and forth until Moblit had lost track of whose turn it was, too invested in the conversation. Which there was much of. Another surprise.

“Hey.”

And yet another one.

People said Levi didn’t get drunk. Those people must have been very unobservant. Or Levi had managed to drink them under the table long before they noticed what whiskey did to him. Thankfully Moblit had a strong tolerance for alcohol, or else he would have been there, too, and he would have missed this.

Pink cheeks. Wide, glassy eyes. Hair slightly ruffled from where he kept running his hand through it.

“Hey,” Levi repeated when Moblit didn’t answer.

“Yeah?”

“This stuff’s starting to taste like piss.”

“Yeah.”

Levi bought them one more round anyway, and they slammed it back before standing on wobbly legs and wandering back to headquarters.

Moblit thought that would be the end of it, but before he could say goodbye Levi grabbed his hand and drug him up to the roof of the barracks, where he was deposited roughly on the ground next to the parapet. Levi took a seat next to him.

“Now we drink the good shit,” he said as he gripped the edges of one of the stones and lifted it to reveal a small hollow, inside of which was a flask.

“Where’d you get that?” Moblit asked.

“Pixis,” he answered, untwisting the cap and taking a swig. He let out a sigh and passed the flask to Moblit.

It was mead, floral and sweet, and much smoother than the whiskey.

“It’s good.”

They passed it back and forth the rest of the night, taking small sips. There was no talking this time, just a comfortable silence as they stared at the walls in the distance, eyelids getting heavy but neither of them moving to go to bed.

“Don’t hog it,” Levi said after some time.

Moblit hadn’t realized he had gone into a sort stupor. Levi elbowed him insistently and Moblit passed him the flask. Levi put it to his lips and tilted it up, then he tilted his head back, then he leaned his entire body back, hand clutching at Moblit’s shoulder to keep from toppling over. He sat up after a few moments, confused frown on his face.

“There’s nothing left.”

“Guess I finished it all.”

Levi shoved him, then grabbed him roughly and spun him, yanked him forward by the collar.

And kissed him.

Levi’s lips were sweet like the mead, but burned hot like the whiskey, and, without really thinking about it, Moblit pressed into them. He opened his mouth and let Levi swipe his tongue in, shivered when Levi traced the roof of his mouth. Then, just as quickly as he had kissed Moblit in the first place, Levi pulled away.

“Tastes better like that,” Levi hummed.

“Want more?”

Levi’s eyes flashed and he watched intently as Moblit leaned forward to kiss him. He missed Levi’s mouth and ended up hitting him in the space just below his nose instead.