#violetscanfly

“Seriously, where are we going? You’re not going to tell me? Is it a secret?”

Levi finally turns the last corner and reaches his destination, stopping himself from sighing for the hundredth time in the relatively short walk from Hange’s lab to Headquarter’s kitchens. Instead, he gestures to the worn out table and chairs in the far corner of the room, at a safe enough distance from the stove he heads for himself.

“Sit,” he tries, without much conviction.

As expected, Hange hums, cheerful and intrigued, and follows him instead of doing as they’re told.

“In here? Why?” They ask, propping an elbow on the counter that separates the room.

He swears he can actually feel their curious eyes on him even as he rummages through the cupboards, but he tunes out their continuous questioning without too much effort.

Whether it’s the force of a burgeoning habit –he’s been dealing with their uniquely invasive presence for months now, after all– or that of the memory that drove him to his current predicament, he isn’t sure. Still, it’s somehow easy to ignore them and think back on the enthusiasm a meal offer from them had stirred up in Isabel –and, to a lesser and more reasonable degree, Furlan as well– even when the veteran Scout hadn’t hidden their motive to try and get Levi’s secrets to ODM gear manipulation through that proposal.

Not that it ended up mattering in the end, considering how that first expedition had ended for his associates. But Furlan’s half-joke after tasting Hange’s peace offering of treats, about how they would have paired well with something from his tea collection that would serve as payback for that promise, made a sharp return to the front of his mind today.

Sure, Hange never got to treat them to that meal after all, and Levi pointedly rejected their repeat offer once he’d returned behind the Walls on his own. However, Hange, as obsessive and weird and annoying as they can be about pestering him for ODM gear lessons and as uncomfortable as their effusive compliments always make him feel, is one of the rare Scouts who never let Levi’s attitude deter them from trying to get to know him and integrate him into the Scouts properly. Their efforts aren’t completely vain, either, as more and more people seem to warm up –or at least, silently look up– to his presence and opinions during training or on the field, and he knows both them and Erwin have been instrumental in getting Shadis to agree to give Levi his own rank and his own Squad that he’ll start forming soon.

And even if they never bring any of that up when they pester him about his abilities, it must be why, he reasons to himself as he sets the water to boil and adds in herbs from one of the pouches he always carries around, he felt the need to go and tear them out of their research lab tonight. Especially when a tiny bit of prodding on his end concluded that no one’s seen them venture out of it since yesterday morning and Berner, the one person who’s usually in charge of checking up on them, is temporarily out of commission in the infirmary after their latest mission. Levi doesn’t know if or when he’ll shake that feeling that he owes Hange something beyond that stupid offer they never even had to make good on, but he knows that locking themself in their research for so long right after coming back from an expedition can’t be good for one of the highest ranking officers of the faction he’s now dedicated to, and there’s only one way he knows how to try and help.

So, here he is, in the middle of the night, casually ignoring the needling questions of a comrade who jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him over their famously all-consuming obsession in a way that makes him feel both slightly uneasy and oddly pleased; repaying a favor he doesn’t owe to someone he’s reluctantly grown to care about probably more than he should.

“Are you cooking for me?”

He almost jumps out of his skin from how close their voice suddenly sounds, and doesn’t stop himself from shoving his shoulder into their torso to force them to take a step back from their spot right behind him.

“Four Eyes, go sit down,” he says again.

He shoots them a glare, more for show since he’s gathered from experience that it won’t work as well on them as it does on virtually everyone else, and is only half-surprised to find them stumbling for longer than they should after the light push he gave them.

“Ooh, is it an Underground recipe?” They ask as they finally regain their balance, “I’m so curious, I’m not familiar with what they eat down there!”

If it was anyone else, he would have had the urge to grab one of the knives in the drawer close to his left hand and make them repeat that shitty taunt. As it is, he doesn’t even try to stop the scoff that wants to escape him, and throws a knowing glance their way.

Hange’s excitement fizzles out of their eyes when they meet his, and they bite their own lip as they think back on their words.

“Shit, I wasn't thinking,” they admit, more strained –and angry at themself, Levi supposes– than sheepish. “Sorry.”

See? Isolation and overwork aren’t good for them, he thinks with a slight shake of his head as he turns back to the stove; it’s certainly not like Hange to be so carelessly offensive in casual conversation, especially not to him.

He hears them approach again this time, and wills his body not to tense up too much as they come to stand close enough to finally look over his shoulder at what he’s doing.

“Oh, you're making tea,” they note with a hint of awed emotion he doesn't know how to read, and he hears them stifling a yawn even as their breath tickles at his the skin of his nape. “What kind is–”

His peripheral vision catches their arm nearing the tiny stack he has left of that particular concoction, and he slaps their hand away without even thinking about the gesture.

“For fuck's sake, Hange!” He hisses, partly out of some silly sense of protectiveness over those dry leaves, partly because he can’t help but feel shaken by their proximity. “Sit!”

“Okay, okay!” They agree with an awkward laugh, their hands held up defensively.

And they do move back, thankfully, but only go and hover around the sitting area without actually obeying his order. Levi exhales, half relieved by the distance between them, half pissed that they’re still standing.

He focuses on his preparation in the following moment of quiet Hange grants him, and tries not to let the warm gratefulness he feels at the restraint he knows they’re displaying right now overwhelm him –Hange’s a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them, and the fidgeting of their fingers and the general restlessness they so often use to hide overworked exhaustion are painfully obvious to him.

“Here.”

The soft clang of the full mug on the metal counter resonates in the empty room as he sets it down, and Levi half-turns back around to fix his own even as he listens to their footsteps hurrying towards this newly presented distraction.

“Seriously though, tea, so late? Doesn’t seem like the best idea, does it?”

It’s an infusion, actually, the hawthorn and passiflora mix Levi’s mother taught him could help with sleep.

But Levi doesn’t bother explaining, because he can already hear Hange blowing at their fuming cup and taking a tentative sip. He finishes pouring his own cup to the low tune of them mumbling possible ingredients to themself, and feels a smile trying to tug at the corner of his lips.

Satisfied that both Hange’s hands and mind are temporarily busy, he tidies up the kitchen before walking around them and taking the seat they’re so intent on avoiding.

He has to hide the smirk that forces itself onto his mouth behind the rim of his cup, though, when Hange thoughtlessly, automatically goes to sit across from him at the table and starts making guesses aloud.