Requited Love

He strides towards them with enough menace on his face to scare each and every green behind the ears cadet. Hange, however, answers his grim expression with a grin.

“Levi!” they exclaim, their voice loud enough to not just rival the thundering rain all around them, but to carry through several floors of Survey Corps’ HQ. “Whatcha doing here?”

To that, Levi’s reply is a single raised eyebrow. “I should be the one asking that. Death by Titans got too predictable for you? Decided to drown instead, four-eyes?”

Hange cackles, perhaps, a bit too loudly, considering it’s nearing midnight, and most of their dear comrades must be already embraced if not by comfort – then, at least, warmth of their beds. Judging by the rapidly darkening – seriously, how can he do that? – expression on the face’s of Hange’s beloved shorty, he thinks so too.

They clear their throat, and do their best to make their voice at least a little quieter. “As much as I would have loved to confirm your suspicion about my rapidly deteriorating mental state, this time it’s Commander’s orders. Erwin needs me in the capital first thing in the morning.”

“And you’re riding out? In this weather?” Levi tilts his head, pointing it towards the storm that’s raging in the courtyard, as though somehow Hange had missed it.

Hange looks out too, lets their gaze linger on the too heavy raindrops, then turns to Levi with a shrug, repeating, “Commander’s orders.”

Levi’s tsk is a loud, nearly tangible sound – Hange oh so wishes that harsh wind hadn’t snuffed out all the torches in the corridor, so they could not only hear Levi, but see him too.

The face he’s making must be priceless. Amusing to the point of laughing, and even if not that - it’s definitely cute enough. Levi’s face always is. 

“At least, put this on,” he mutters, and before Hange can react – laugh it off, squeal with delight or wrap their arms around him and hold him against their chest for all eternity – Levi takes a step forward, pulling the hood of their cloak over their head with surprising gentleness.

“There,” he whispers, his voice nearly getting lost in the rumbling of cold and heavy rain. The lightning strikes – instant and so sudden, and for less than a heartbeat it illuminates Levi’s face – unguarded, vulnerable and so unexpectedly soft that it steals Hange’s breath away.

Their gasp is stolen away by the thunder.

They don’t react in any other way, in any of their usual way – they don’t smirk, don’t make a smart retort, they only search for Levi’s hand in darkness, and once they find it, they give it a single, gentle squeeze.