Chapter Text
This semester, I should point out, is almost at a close. Winter break is fast approaching, and I have deadlines to meet, which is why (for the next like week at least) I plan to sit my ass down in the library and study like my life depends on it. From the look on Armin’s face as I tell him said plan, it appears I’m not the only one aware of the rapid passage of time, and I also may not be the only one willing to spend the next week of their life trying to actively do something about that.
For three days solid I wake up at an ungodly hour, jog across campus in the dark (whilst avoiding patches of ice, which takes some skill I might add) and then hole up on the third floor of the library as the world outside gets lighter and lighter and the essay I’m typing gets longer and longer. I break to go to class and eat and stretch my legs, but other than that I am library-bound.
I make good use of the resources available, make better use of the café to maintain a constant state of caffeinated fervour (which I think freaks out my Tuesday morning lecturer, but so what), and make Levi buy me lunch like he promised he would. And then each day, after lunch, he sits across from me at the table and works on his own essay, tapping gently on keys and humming ever so slightly as he flips through his immaculately organized notebook, until the world turns dark outside and I have to call it a day.
I manage, for three whole days, to keep a good rhythm. I complete the first draft of my first essay and give myself a pat on the back for my troubles.
And then on the fourth day I get about two sentences into an introduction for my second essay, and promptly pass out on my laptop.
I wake to the feeling of fingers carding gently through my hair, and freeze, wolf still and spring-loaded. I take a breath, recognise the scent.
“Levi,” I mumble.
He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t stop the slow and steady push of his fingers through my locks. It’s nice – unfairly nice – and my wolf whines a little as I sit up and dislodge his hand, blink at the vamp where he’s perching on the edge of the table.
“You’re here early?” I say, and it isn’t meant to be a question, but I also don’t know how long I was napping for. “How long was I napping for?”
Levi shrugs and pushes out the chair beside me with his foot, dropping into it in such an elegantly, indolent, Levi way. He sighs and stretches, like he’s the one that’s just woken up. “I’ve only just got here, but judging from the marks on your face I’d say you were out for a while.”
The marks on my…? Oh. Yea. I’ve been lying on my keyboard. I pull out my phone and use the screen to catch a glimpse of myself and yep. There certainly are marks on my face. Brilliant.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the library,” I say in defence of myself as Levi gives me his best unimpressed look. There’s a little smile dancing in the depths of his eyes, and I rub at the side of my face sullenly so I don’t have to see that smile bloom into something more mocking.
“And I didn’t mean to get stuck on werewolf-sitting duty, but here we are,” he bats back. I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him. I think he knows I want to. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Have you eaten yet today?”
“No,” I say, and then, “oh wait yes.”
“Right,” he deadpans. “Well, it’s good to know you’re completely incapable of answering simple questions after waking up from a nap.”
Again, I don’t rise to his bait no matter how much my wolf tells me I should.
I check the time. 11:30.
“I could eat now, if that’s what you’re asking?” I offer, ever hopeful that if Levi’s here and it’s midday, I’ll be getting lunch bought for me again.
“I’m sure you could,” he says, and I only feel slightly judged. “What’s your schedule like today?”
I shake my head. “Don’t have one. No lectures today, so I was going to make the most of it studying.”
“You mean sleeping,” Levi corrects, and stands, smoothing out the front of his sweater. It’s dark purple, almost black, and tailored perfectly to show off his narrow waist and broad shoulders. It looks like it cost more than every item of clothing I own combined. As he leans forwards to flick the lid of my laptop shut with a slender finger, it rides up just ever so slightly, exposing pale skin at his waist. I’m hit with an animal desire to reach out and brush my fingertips across that strip of bare skin, to feel the delicate heat of him.
I swallow around the uncomfortable tightness in my throat at the thought, and stand instead. Shove my notebooks and laptop in my bag, and my wolf to the back of my mind. If my movements are a little on the rough side, Levi doesn’t deign to comment.
“Come on,” he says, as he hands me my coat. “I’ll treat you to lunch in the city today. I’ve got a couple errands to run.”
If I spend the rest of the day helping Levi squander his money (and getting very little work done as a result) no one can blame me.
After a (mostly) full week of studying and writing, drafting and editing, I emerge triumphant from my academic isolation with two completed essays and a bunch of betas in need of some attention.
I haven’t spent time with them in a while (and I must admit I am feeling a little guilty about it) so when Jean messages me on Saturday and asks if I want to go for a run, I agree immediately. I don’t even bother asking Connie and Sasha if they’re up for it (I know they aren’t doing anything special today) and just tell them I’ll be picking them up at 13:00 so they better be ready.
When I pull up to the curb out the front of their house, they’re already outside and waiting, and I can sense the electric excitement in the air around them as they pile into my truck. Jean (who I gathered on the way down here) silently left the front seat free for Connie, and I can tell my Second is smug about it. Idiots.
“Where are we going?” Sasha wants to know as I wait for them to strap in.
“Cedar Parks, for now,” I tell them cryptically, and pull away.
“For now?” Connie prompts. I smile.
Back home, I explain to them as I drive, we used to play a game. Sort of like hide-and-seek. My uncle would run out into the wilderness around our town, and the rest of us would have to track him down using our wolves’ senses. Sometimes we’d work in teams, to get used to each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and sometimes he’d make us run solo.
“It’s a good way to strengthen Pack bonds,” I tell them as they listen. “And it gives your wolf a focus so you can stay in control.”
“How are we supposed to track you with the weather like this?” Sasha asks, squinting out the window. It’s true that the weather today sucks – visibility is particularly poor thanks to the heavy snow, and the winds that blow it in from the north mean that scent trails will be virtually impossible to follow. I’m reminded that Connie and Sasha are from further south, and don’t have as much experience of harsh conditions like these. Even Jean is looking uncertain, the eager edge he’s been carrying all day dulled at the prospect of an impossible game.
“You won’t be tracking me by scent,” I tell them, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “This isn’t about using your nose to track your prey; this is about strengthening our bond as a Pack. Alpha and betas. You can trust your wolves to find me – this might be the first time we’re trying this, but you’ll be surprised by how far the bond can already stretch.”
I take the turning off the main highway and into Cedar Parks. The snow is piled up along the edges of the road, but the tarmac itself is mostly clear. I can’t imagine there’ll be hikers out here today, so a mid-afternoon run should be no trouble for us.
“I’ll drop you guys off here,” I tell them as I pull into the parking lot. “Wait for half an hour and then come and get me. Work as a team and see how long it takes you to track me down.” I can scent the anticipation running high between the three of them – their wolves must be eager to get this game started, and I must admit my own is wide awake right now.
“Wait for half an hour and then come and get you,” Connie repeats back to me. “Got it.”
“It shouldn’t take you longer than an hour to track me down,” I say, “but see if you can do it in less than that.”
“Less than an hour?” Jean muses, and he’s grinning. Oh yea, he’s enjoying this. “Sounds doable for us.”
I give him a look that says oh you think? and then gesture for them to get out of the truck.
“Connie,” I call to my Second as he jumps out. He looks up at me, a question in the tilt of his head. “Keep them in line,” I say. He nods. “And don’t show off.”
He grins.
I throw my truck into reverse and head out to Karanese forest, the strong wind from the north buffeting me along the way like so many snowflakes. I think back, as I drive, to simpler times – Pack games like this one were so commonplace back home, and as a group we were strong, our bonds tried and true.
I miss it. I can’t wait to see them all again over Christmas break, and fall back into their way of things.
Spending my formative wolfy years learning how to function as an Alpha living under another’s rule was tough, but navigating my teenage years after my mum’s death and my dad’s abandonment, all whilst suddenly having this other thing living at the back of my mind – this power beating away in my heart, constantly demanding I listen to it, give in to it, let it out—well that nightmare was only made bearable by my uncle’s steadfast determination, and the solid care and support of those who looked up to him.
I lost one family but gained another, you might say. It could have been a lot worse.
I hope that (for the next few years at least) I can encourage that sort of trust and love within my new Pack. I hope I can be the kind of Alpha for them that Hannes was for me. Now that the stress of recent months is over, I have time to settle into this role, and help the others grow stronger in turn, and I’m hoping that if everything goes the way I except it to today, we can do a lot more exercises like the ones Hannes had us doing back home.
My wolf rumbles his agreement in my chest, and I smile for the both of us. I can’t believe I spent years telling myself I didn’t want to be a proper Alpha. Now I’ve got the job, I don’t wanna quit.
Ridiculous.
Half an hour after I dropped the guys off, I turn off the main road. It’s bitterly cold, but that doesn’t stop me from jumping out and pulling off all my clothes. The warmth of my wolf as he pushes up from deep within me, taking control of my body, twisting us, shifting us into what he wants, is enough to keep the cold at bay, and I welcome it.
Our breath mixes with the snow, the flakes that land on us melting instantly as we stretch out our limbs, revelling in the freedom the shift always brings. Claws dig into the earth beneath our paws, and we throw back our head and howl. The sound is swallowed by the wind, ripped from us as soon as it’s born, but we know our betas would have heard it. Felt it. We can sense the pull of those Pack bonds connecting us, the power that we have as Alpha flowing outwards toward them as it should. The sensation sharpens, like strings pulling taut, and we know they’re starting to seek us out.
The game has begun.
We move.
The path my wolf takes us on is winding. We run fast, muscles burning, lungs working hard as we race across the frozen ground. The barren trees whip past us, low branches snatching at our fur but unable to catch us as we twist deftly through the forest, our supernatural agility and heightened reflexes carrying us effortlessly through the maze of trees.
We relish this feeling. The lupine grace and unrestrained power that fills us up as we run together, human and wolf in a perfect balance of trust and faith, makes us feel invincible. Unstoppable. Like we can withstand anything this life throws at us.
Our betas are gaining ground now, we can tell. There are miles between us still, but our bonds are steadily pulling tighter as they close in, and I let my eyes shut and give my wolf a hint more control as he continues to run, focusing myself on the feeling of the others chasing us down through the forest. They’re playing the game well, that much is clear; the eagerness, the determination, fresh and unrestrained, is sparking across the bonds we share, carried to me in waves as they work together. Our Pack harmony is healthy and strong, and my wolf is all fierce pride about it. We can’t wait to shower them with praise later for how well they’re doing, we really can’t.
The trees begin to thin around us, the edge of the forest approaching, and as we bound out from the treeline and into the snow-covered fields, our front paw catches on a loose root and we stumble. Our forward momentum does the rest, tipping us muzzle first into the freezing snow, and we roll over and over in a flailing pile of limbs until finally we still, lying on our back, blinking up at the sky in bewilderment, the wind thoroughly knocked out of us.
Well. So much for lupine grace.
I let my wolf pick us up and shake the water from our fur, and try not to let his hurt pride ruin my good mood from a moment ago. He huffs, breath steaming up around us (note: pride definitely hurt). In the forest at our backs, we hear the distant call of our betas barking, their excitement echoing down through the bond between us as they home in on our location. I tell my wolf to run already – every second we sit here is a second closer to this game being over.
I force us to our feet again.
Back on all fours, we race across the open field. The horizon is empty, the white of snow laden clouds above merging into the white of the open plane below, the details blurring and merging into one. We run, a flash of colour against this empty backdrop, veering east to run parallel with the treeline, and then plunge back into the dark of the woods. Our path arches east, north-east, and we can feel the bonds of our individual betas now as they close the distance. Connie and Sasha are the most noticeable, our connection with them the strongest as we’ve spent the most time together; they feel alive and warm and welcoming, and my wolf acts like that’s all thanks to him, the idiot. Our link with Jean feels fainter in comparison, on account of him still being new to the group, but the point of this exercise is to help change that after all (and by the feel of things, it’s working).
Between the three of them we can feel the hazy hum of another in our Pack – maybe Levi, or Mina, the distance making it hard to tell – and our deep, deep connection to Hannes lies dormant underneath it all.
Leaning into the sensations of this – the cold in our lungs as we pant in the air, the burning of our muscles as we push on through the trees, the beating of our heart as our paws thunder across the earth, and the electric pulse of the power that connects us all to one another – I can acknowledge that it’s been a goddamn while since I spent time with my wolf like this, and I’ve fucking missed this feeling. Every time I’ve had to shift recently has been out of necessity; either due to the phase of the moon or for survival (mine or someone else’s), and I can tell that my wolf has needed this chance to be let loose. He should be thoroughly exhausted by the time this game is over.
He pushes his agreement into my mind, and then his attention is caught by movement behind us. The sound of footfalls. Paws pounding. Panting breath.
Our betas race out of the trees behind us, yipping in keen exhilaration as they all converge.
Sasha reaches us first, barrelling into our side and sending us rolling muzzle-over-tail for the second time today. We push her off us, start to stand, and then we’re sent sprawling yet again as Jean tackles us from behind, barking at Sasha to come help him.
Between the two of them, they pin us down, and my wolf lets them, enjoying their playfulness with a fraternal fondness that might genuinely give me cavities. He heaves them off us, and then retreats within me a little, giving me more control now that we have them all here. I make good use of the extra control, and smoosh Sasha’s face into the frozen dirt.
She yelps, wriggling out from under me as Jean nips at my forearm, nothing but playful. Connie barks at them at once, moving over to stand beside me, and Jean and Sasha back off whining, bellies to the ground. I give Connie the best eyeroll I can in wolf form, and he lowers his head a little, sheepish. I try to convey that there’s no need to admonish them for playing – after all, today is about fun and family. We should be encouraging them, not denying them. They’re just pleased that they caught me (although I am fairly certain it took them longer than the allotted hour).
I don’t know if he manages to get all that from whatever facial expression I’m pulling, but he butts his shoulder against mine and jumps a step backwards, tempting me to chase him, and the others take that as their cue to start back up with their bullshit.
For the second time today, I find myself running through the woods with them following, but this time I have no intentions of maintaining any distance – instead, I keep them close, nipping at their ears and shoving into them, showing them the affection I feel in the way that wolves recognise.
We hunt together, the four of us working and moving as one. Sasha leads, her sharp sense of smell proving superior even in a December snowpour. Jean loops around us, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of danger, periodically bounding away through the trees and then darting back again. I think it’s endearing. It’s obvious that he’s the protective type we were missing from our Pack dynamic – he’s greater in size and strength than Connie in wolf form (but only just) and it’s clear that he only thinks to use his strength to the advantage of others.
It makes sense. Watching him pad alongside Sasha for a moment, and then move away again, I can see plainly how protective he’s become of her – how he watches out for her, but will still bow down to her if she tells him to. If our Pack were a real family, he’d be the doting big brother that would always let his siblings win in a fight against him, but whom no outsider would ever stand a chance of beating.
My wolf, watching through our eyes, has to agree. We both know we got lucky with him, that’s for sure.
We come across a pack of real wolves after a while, and Jean alerts us to the potential danger before we see it for ourselves. There are six of them – their bodies smaller than ours, and their formations tighter as they eye us up. We stop and watch them from a distance, wondering what they’ll do.
They know we’re not like them, I can tell. They can maybe sense it in the way that wild animals can, and they instinctively treat us as if we’re a danger, although we don’t provoke them in any way. They turn tail and run after little hesitation. Jean growls in warning after them, but before he can move to chase them, Connie is blocking his path, making it clear that they’re not our quarry nor our worry. Jean tilts his head, like he’s thinking about it, but then huffs and bounds off again, wolves forgotten.
My Second moves back to my side again, and we weave through the trees together, with Sasha leading the way once more. And what a good Second Connie is. He’s calm, logical; he knows how to keep the others in line without being overbearing. His control is impeccable (and what else could you expect from a born wolf?). He backs my decisions when he needs to, and challenges me when he should, and he supports the others too. Jean really hasn’t been with us that long, but already he defers to calm and patient Connie, respecting him and his wolf in equal measure.
And then there’s Sasha. The newest to this life out of the four of us, and the newest to this kind of Pack dynamic as well, but she’s taken everything in stride like a proper little trooper. She’s the smallest in stature, but with her bounds of energy she can keep up with the rest of us, and stand beside the others on equal footing. She’s the heart of the Pack, there’s no denying that – I can tell from the way Connie and Jean dote on her, and how she always manages to get her way without even seeming to try. There’s an edge to her innocence though – a cheekiness to her charm – and if I allow myself any time to think about the future of this little Pack of ours, I can see her growing into her wolf with ease. Will she become as protective of the others as Jean is? Will she grow tall and certain as Connie has? Or will she forever be a bright-eyed, floppy-eared ball of crazy energy, ricocheting between the rest of us?
I know one thing for sure: I can’t wait to see.
I drop the three of them off at Connie and Sasha’s place so I can head on back up to campus alone, much to their disappointment.
“But why can’t you have dinner with us?” Sasha whines as she clings to my arm (my mistake for getting out of the truck to give them all hugs). It’s cold out still, but after the shift we’re all running hot enough for it not to ruffle us much. Connie and Jean are on the lawn, playfully shoving each other as they bicker about something I’m not following, clearly feeling the benefits of a little Pack bonding time.
I pat the back of Sasha’s hand and smile down at her. “Because I can’t,” I apologise, as gently noncommittal as I can be.
“Eren’s got a hot date,” Connie says with a grin, and Jean does a double take, mid-shove, giving Connie the advantage.
“What, seriously?” Jean sounds entirely too shocked by the prospect of me dating in any regard, as he bats away Connie’s attempt at unbalancing him. His attention is focused on me in severe astonishment, and honestly? That’s kind of disheartening actually.
“Hey,” I protest, definitely not pouting even a little. “I could totally have a hot date! I’m very datable.”
Jean gives me a once-over and pulls a face, his contest with Connie seemingly forgotten as he rounds his judgement on me. “Well sure, if you like tall, dishevelled young adults with bad time-management skills and a limited grasp on personal boundaries, fashion sense, self-care and—”
“Okay, Jean,” I cut him off. “Point made. I need a bit of work, but you know what?” I gesture at myself. “Once I figure out how to function as an adult, you guys are so screwed.”
Jean scoffs at me, rolls his eyes, but I can scent the amusement rising from him, betraying the act.
“So, if you’ve not got a hot date, what are you so busy doing that you can’t spend the evening with us?” Connie cycles back round to the previous conversation, as he jogs over to me and attempts to pry Sasha’s limpet grip off my arm. The attempt is not successful.
I take a breath. Say; “I’m going out for dinner with Levi,” and watch as Connie’s eyebrow twitches, Jean’s face screws up, and Sasha drops my arm in outright indignation.
“What?” they all say as one, with varying degrees of incredulity.
“Uh,” I manage, realising that perhaps I should have lied and told them I was hanging out with Armin and Mikasa instead. “Levi’s taking me out for dinner?”
“You’ve kept this very quiet,” Connie accuses, narrowing his eyes at me. Suspicious of my motives, I can tell.
“Uh,” I say again. In truth, he only made the offer this morning, and it hadn’t really come up in conversation yet. Yea, it’s not like I was trying to keep it secret from them. Totally wasn’t doing that. I go to say as much, but Jean beats me to it.
“You’re not dating that self-absorbed shortass, are you?” he asks, sounding disgusted, and I forget what I was about to say and splutter instead. Veeeery eloquent, Jaeger.
“He’s not self-absorbed,” Sasha says for me, rounding on Jean as I continue to struggle with the English language. “He’s just different.”
“He’s overrated,” Jean counters, crossing his arms. “Eren can do way better.”
(Eren would very much like to exit this conversation now.)
“Hey, you were literally just saying that Eren is a hot mess that can’t take care of himself,” Connie points out. “Now you’re saying he can do better?”
“Yea? Obviously? Just cos Eren’s a complete disaster it doesn’t mean he can’t do better than Levi.” And yea, Jean and Connie are actually arguing over this as if I’m not standing right here with my own set of opinions and no idea how to voice them.
I sigh and admit defeat; don’t bother defending myself – I know I’m indefensible.
“Alright, if you guys are going to get into this, do you mind if I leave? Kinda wanna have a shower before I meet up with my totally platonic friend for a meal I don’t have to pay for,” I say. Connie and Jean spare me a glance. Connie smiles.
“Yea, sure man,” he says. “Have fun tonight.” Then he goes back to glaring at Jean.
“You can do better,” Jean tells me. “But yea, have fun I guess.” He, too, goes back to facing off against Connie, and the two of them start up their bickering again.
“Okey dokey then,” I say. I open my arms for a Sasha hug, and she immediately obliges.
“Say hi from me,” she says. I plant a kiss on the crown of her head.
“Will do. Make sure those two idiots don’t hurt each other too much.”
“Ay ay, Alpha.” She gives me a toothy grin that doesn’t fill me with confidence, but I have her word and I’ll take it.
As I climb back up into my truck and buckle in, Connie rugby tackles Jean to the ground and Sasha cheers. I have to laugh, and that feeling stays with me all the way back up to campus.
Okay, so here’s the thing. Dinner with Levi tonight? Not a date.
Definitely not a date.
Nope.
Just two guys going out for some good food together in a slightly-too-expensive restaurant in the middle of the city on a Saturday night because they enjoy each other’s company. Platonically. As friends.
Yea.
“Oh, it’s totally a date,” Mikasa says when hears. “No doubt.”
I roll my eyes. Not her too. “Yes doubt,” I say, pointing a finger at her in warning. “I’m not dating Levi, I’m not going on a date with Levi, and I don’t understand why everyone seems to think otherwise today.”
“It’s because you’re both conventionally attractive men with clear chemistry,” she tells me. “And because no one here has anything better to do with their time than speculate on why you’re still single.”
“Well that’s…” I don’t actually know what to say to that. “Sweet but not true?”
“Uh huh.” Mikasa isn’t convinced by my feeble attempt to dispute her. “Sure hun. You all showered and moisturised? You need help picking your outfit? Need me to artfully tousle your hair for you?”
“Oh fuck you,” I huff, and go knock on Armin’s door instead, don’t bother telling her that I had to shower to get rid of the dirt and sweat from my run, and not because I wanted to look good for meeting my (and I yet again have to stress this apparently) totally platonic friend.
There’s the sound of rustling from the other side of the door, like Armin’s climbing out of bed, and I worry for a moment that I’ve woken him up. Then I realise that it’s 18:30 and that’s ludicrous.
Armin opens the door a crack, and I catch a whiff of the strawberry bodywash we both use (it was on offer and we do our grocery shopping together these days) and the white chocolate cookies he made with Mikasa earlier this afternoon. Under it all, however, is the unique scent of self-pity that often hangs around students when they’ve not been studying like they should.
He peaks out at me from behind the half-open door, looking a little sorry for himself with his hair all amess.
“You good?” I ask him. He nods slowly. Mutely. Morose.
So that’s a no, then.
“How’s studying going?” I try instead, because I imagine that’s what his sullen mood is resulting from. His face scrunches up into the perfect picture of despair, and I prod the door open the rest of the way and pull him forward into a hug. “You’ve got this, buddy,” I say, rubbing little solidarity circles between his shoulder blades.
“I absolutely haven’t, but thanks,” he mumbles into my shoulder, leaning into me.
“Want to help me pick an outfit to go to dinner in?” I offer, hoping that’ll cheer him up, or at the very least distract him. He nods against me. “Okay then, here we go.”
I walk us backwards across the hall to my room, bearing the majority of Armin’s weight as he continues to lean against me. He’s really playing up the self-pity party, but that’s fine. I’m used to his dramatics by now.
I deposit him on the edge of my bed, and he tugs my duvet up around his shoulders like a cape as I open my wardrobe and peer inside.
“I don’t have much to work with in here, if I’m being honest,” I tell him over my shoulder. Plenty of hoodies and t shirts and jeans, but nothing that’ll make me look like I’m not a soul-weary student leeching a free meal off an older guy. And I would dearly love to not look like that for at least one day this week.
“Where are you going?” Armin asks me, standing and shuffling across to appraise the situation over my shoulder, duvet still wrapped around him. I make an I dunno noise and shrug.
“I forgot,” I explain, “but it sounded fancy.”
Armin tuts at my clear incompetence as he nudges me aside with his hip and starts riffling through my clothes. “You didn’t plan this?”
“Nope.” I pop the word, and smile at him. “I just said yes.”
That gets a laugh out of him, and some of his low mood begins to dissipate. “Well, maybe Levi spending his money on you isn’t such a bad thing – at least you’re eating proper regular meals now.” He pauses and straightens up, holding two pairs of almost identical black jeans. “I assume that it’s Levi you’re going with?” he checks. I nod, trying not to make it seem like a big deal, in case he starts up with the is-it-a-date-date? bullshit like everyone else. “So that means he’s paying then.”
“Hope so,” I say, with a lop-sided shrug, although from his tone of voice Armin already seems certain. “I kind of agreed to this on the basis that he would be.”
Armin gives me a funny look. “You wouldn’t go out with him otherwise?”
I blink. Not what I said, or implied.
“Well, of course I would,” I defend. “It’s just a bonus that I’m not the one planning, organising, or paying for anything today. I can’t tell you the last time I actually just let someone else decide things for me.” I sigh and take a seat on the edge of my bed, stretch my arms out.
And perhaps I’m being a bit too honest here, but that is the truth of it. Since moving up here and starting uni, I’ve been completely independent – and more than that, I’ve had other people dependent on me. Back home, my uncle took charge, both as my guardian and as my Alpha; he took care of me, kept me from making (too many) mistakes, made sure I paid attention in school and had enough outlets for all my energy, and at the end of the day he made sure I knew there were people around I could rely on. He didn’t have to put as much effort into my upbringing as he did, but I certainly benefited from his example.
For the past three months, I haven’t had that. I knew that leaving home would put me squarely into Fend For Myself territory, but I didn’t anticipate having to fend for others as well. With Connie and Sasha and Jean has come a level of responsibility I wasn’t prepared for. For the past three months, I’ve essentially been living in the ghost of my uncle’s footsteps, allowed a taste of what life as an active Alpha is really like. And boy, if it ain’t half tiring.
It’s been great, don’t get me wrong! As I mentioned earlier, I won’t be quitting any time soon, but still. When Levi text me this morning to ask if I had plans later, and if he could take me out for dinner to celebrate me officially getting my shit together and submitting an essay or two? Yea, that felt nice.
It was surprisingly easy to say yes, to let him call the shots and boss me around a little. My wolf had acceded with little complaint, letting me follow the lead of another for a change.
New ground for the both of us, that’s for sure.
(Still not a date, though.)
“It’s not that I think you’re bad at taking care of yourself—” Armin pulls me out of my thoughts somewhat abruptly as he throws a pair of jeans at me and gestures for me to put them on. (I oblige.) “—but you definitely have your moments that make me doubt you’re a real human being sometimes.”
“Ha, yea.” Am I that obvious about it?
“You should go easier on yourself. I can tell you take on more than you should from the people around you, and I worry that you’ll burn out by the time you’re thirty at this rate. Letting someone else take care of you for a change is good.”
“Wow,” I say, deadpan. “How totally non-hypocritical of you.”
“One of us has to be,” Armin says with an innocent smile that tells me he doesn’t want to focus on his own personal life right now thank you very much, and then he throws me a crewneck I haven’t seen in, well, months. It’s slate grey, and soft to the touch. Still has that “new clothes” scent lingering. This must have been one of those things I’d bought before coming to uni, and then promptly shoved into the back of the wardrobe and forgotten about. I hope it fits.
“Thanks, Armin,” I tell him sincerely. He unfurls my duvet from around his shoulders and tosses it back onto my bed. It mostly ends up on the floor, but bless him for trying.
“Any time,” he tells me magnanimously as he heads for the door, job here clearly done. (I know he’s not joking – he doesn’t trust me to dress myself most days.) “Please do something about your hair before you leave. And please don’t stay out too late, or you’ll make Mikasa worry.”
“Yes mom.” I roll my eyes.
With a final warning of “Don’t drink and drive,” he sweeps out of my room, closing the door behind him. I hear him pad across to the kitchen, where Mikasa is prepping her food for tomorrow, and I listen to him tell her that there’s hope for me yet. I snort, and then tug off the shirt I’m wearing and slip into the crewneck Armin selected.
It does fit, you’ll be happy to hear. And, as I appraise myself in the mirror, I’m pleased to inform you that it fits well. Now I remember why I bought it. (Listen, I’m not vain, I’m just aware that I have what some may consider to be a Good Figure. The ol’ supernatural lifestyle is certainly good for your physique, I can tell you that.)
As Armin instructed, I attempt to do something with my hair that makes it look neater that its usual bird-nest (the attempt is semi-successful) and then realise that I’m going to be late if I stay here any longer, and book it out the door.
I park up in Westgate and head into the city centre. Levi text me whilst I was driving to say to meet him by the clock tower, which is very considerate of him as I definitely can’t remember where we’re heading to eat, but I do know where the clock tower is. (It’s dead centre between the shopping and food districts, and a very useful landmark when you’re lost, I might add.)
I cross the plaza, reach the bottom of the clock town but can’t see Levi. Do a loop around the structure just to make sure I’m not missing him somehow in the gently falling snow, and then take a seat on one of the sheltered benches that line the edge of the plaza to wait. I’m sure he won’t be long.
Usually, being made to wait would put my wolf on edge, but right now he’s all worn out and fast asleep at the back of my mind – too tired after using so much energy on a mid-month run earlier. it’s kind of nice actually, not being forced to contemplate the worst-case scenario just because company is running a little behind schedule. Maybe I should put him through his paces more often.
I take a deep breath of cold night air with my very human lungs, and taste the night around me; the sweet smell of roasting pork from the restaurant to my right, the bitter scent of mud worked into the snow and ice underfoot by busy shoppers earlier today, the acrid coil of cigarette smoke from someone smoking somewhere in the dark.
But no, it’s not dark. There are Christmas lights strung up all around me, blinking yellow and red and white light through the snow fall. I cock my head to one side as I try to think just how long they’ve been up for. When did the city install them? How did I miss that? Was I seriously that caught up in my own personal struggles recently that I didn’t notice the city being buried under this sparkling layer of festive decoration?
“I need to get out more,” I mutter to myself.
“Are you only just realising that?” Levi says from my left, and I certainly do not jump at the sound of his voice. “Did I make you jump?”
“No,” I stubbornly tell him, not looking at his face because I can hear the shit-eating grin he’s wearing.
“Pity. I’ll try harder next time,” he says with a sigh, and I blink at him as my brain stumbles to a halt before the words next time. Next time what? Next time he offers to take me out to dinner? Next time he tries to sneak up on me at night in a city plaza, under the blink of a thousand Christmas lights as the snow falls softly down around us? Next time I see him after this, which will be….when, exactly?
Levi clears his throat, and I realise I’ve just been sitting here staring at him like an idiot. He raises an eyebrow. “You good, mutt?”
“Oh—uh, yea,” I manage, somewhat weakly, and clamber to my feet. I can tell my cheeks are heating up from embarrassment at my own awkwardness, but I hope he assumes it’s just from the cold. For the second time this evening, I’m glad my wolf is fast asleep. If I had to deal with his shit on top of my own stupidity right now, I might not make it through this evening. I swallow. “Um. I don’t remember where we’re going.”
Levi smiles up at me softly, like he knows me, and it’s such an unsuspected little thing that I can’t help but mirror it. He shakes his head. “I figured that would be the case. Come on, this way.”
He leads me through the night to the restaurant he booked for us, and he opens up the door for me, and then he actually takes my coat from me, and I don’t say a word the entire time.
Glancing around the inside of the foyer (yes, there’s a foyer with a cloak room, I don’t know what I’m doing here) I can see marble floors and crystal lights and a subtle art deco twist to the design of it all, and I feel entirely out of place and very much alone.
And then Levi is by my elbow, guiding me forwards with a hand at the small of my back and Jesus actual Christ I might die here tonight.
“Is this the right place?” I hiss as discreetly as I am able. The waiter (Maitre d’? Fuck, I don’t know, “waiter” doesn’t sound fancy enough for this guy) leads us across the expansive floor of the restaurant to a table by the window, and Levi takes a seat without bothering to answer me. This is clear answer enough.
I sit down opposite him, and try to keep my facial expression as neutral as possible until the waiter finally, mercifully, walks away. (He may have taken a drinks order, or he may not have. I really can’t focus on anything that’s happening around me right now.)
Levi kicks his leg out under the table with a sigh, and taps the toe of my shoe with his.
“You look like you’re going to pass out,” he observes. Doesn’t sound particularly bothered by it. “I am paying for tonight, or did you forget?”
Oh yea, like that’s my big concern here.
I try (very hard) to piece together a coherent string of words that might explain what I’m feeling right now. I manage; “This too fancy.”
Levi snorts. Leans forward with his elbows on the table. Bare elbows. He’s wearing a crisp, midnight blue shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up, displaying his toned forearms. I watch the muscle flex under pale skin as he shifts his position.
“You can handle one evening here, I’m sure,” he says, voice low with something lacing the edge of it. I squint up at him, trying to figure out if he’s using that vampire mid control trick on me. “It’s called persuasion,” he tells me languidly, “and no. It doesn’t work on you.”
“Because I’m a—me?” I ask, distracted by the notion that I’ve been evidently narrating my thoughts aloud again, that I almost slip up and declare I’m a werewolf in public. Even in the noise of the restaurant where I’m sure I won’t be overheard, it’s still a reflex not to say it.
Levi’s lips twitch into a smirk. He rest his chin on his right fist and says nothing. Just watches me with those deep grey eyes of his. He must be thinking I’m an absolute idiot. (What else is new?)
I huff.
“Fine.” I glance over my shoulder at the rest of the room – fully booked and oh so warm compared to the night outside. The layers of scents from the food around us are overlapping, making me realise I’m pretty damn hungry, especially after that run. It smells good – it feels good, actually, now that I’m getting over my initial shock at the level of Formal this place exudes. This is so far from my usual comfort zone, but you know what? I can give it a try I guess. Levi’s buying; what have I got to lose?
“Are they going to make me eat tiny portions?” I ask, because actually, that’s a serious matter. The plates of food I can see don’t appear any smaller than an average restaurant might serve, but I need to be absolutely certain because I’m not a small portion kinda guy.
I tell Levi as much, and he gives me another hint of a smile.
“No small portions,” he assures me. “Come on, mutt. What do you take me for? You really think I’d drag you out to somewhere like that?”
“You dragged me out to somewhere like this,” I don’t hesitate to point out. I look down at the table between us, take note of the careful arrangement of apparatus. “There’s enough sets of cutlery here for six meals, Levi. Six. What am I supposed to do with all of this?”
The asshole actually laughs at me, and leans back in his chair again. Picks up the tiniest of forks.
“This one is for salads.”
“I—wait, is it? Seriously?” I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me or not.
“This one is for potatoes,” he says, moving on to the next fork along. Yea okay, he’s fucking with me.
I growl a little under my breath out of pure frustration, and give up. I can already tell that his high spirits and ever-present need to rile me up are going to be an exceptionally dangerous mix tonight.
I’ll be shocked if he manages to hold a serious conversation with me for more than five minutes.
How in the hell could anyone assume I would actually go on a date with this guy?
We do, in the end, manage to hold a serious conversation for more than five minutes.
Throughout the course of dinner (or all four courses, I should say, because Levi sure isn’t skimping on the fine stuff) we fall into a comfortable back-and-forth, dancing between topics that we usually don’t touch on at all whenever we hang out. It’s like the very Grown Up setting of this particular restaurant is making me feel more mature and able to openly discuss things I don’t typically give much mind to – like my plans for the future both immediate and distant, or how much I miss my family and friends back home, or what Levi’s own plans will be once his degree is done with next year. I ask him why he even bothered with a degree anyway; he’s thousands of years old right? Why would he bother going back to school, that’s just ridiculous.
“I’m hundreds of years old,” he corrects me, like there’s really any difference, “and I want to specialise in art history. Figured a degree would help me, and I kind of have to go to university to get one. I thought you knew how that worked?”
I roll my eyes at his sarcasm.
“Okay, point. So what, you wanna be an art dealer or something? You don’t paint.” I frown. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t paint. I don’t think he wants to be an artist, unless I’m missing something obvious here.
“No, I don’t,” he agrees with me. “I can’t draw for shit either, and I utterly despise sculpture, but I’ve always been interested in what other people can do, and why they do it. Art has been a form of human expression since the beginning. It might have changed a bit along the way, but its value and its meaning stays the same. I can respect that.”
“That’s…” I don’t really know. Pretty deep? Way more personal than I thought he’d get?
“That’s my way of saying I have lived through whole generations who will not be remembered by anything beyond the marks they’ve left behind, and I will live through many more. Finish your drink. I’ll get the bill.”
And there’s nothing I can say to that, after all.
On the way back through the quiet city, we walk side by side. Our path is slow and meandering, the two of us seemingly content to just enjoy the quiet buzz of the nightlife around us, the lights that line every street twinkling in the light snowfall. There aren’t many people about, but those who are seem to be enjoying the ambience as much as we are. Couples walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, boots crunching in the snow and ice and grit, and laughter filters out to us from the packed bars and restaurants of the city centre.
Levi asks about my plans for Christmas as we wander with no clear destination in mind – a continuation of an earlier conversation that we got distracted from by dessert.
“I’m heading home,” I tell him, and just saying it fills me with relief. “Going back to spend time with my uncle and my old Pack. I haven’t seen them in months, ya know? Kinda miss ‘em.”
“And Mina will be there?” Levi prompts, and I blink at him in surprise. He tuts at me, reading my thoughts before I even think them. “I’m not deaf, Eren. I do actually hear you when you tell me these things.”
“Ah, sorry,” I apologise good-humouredly. “I’m just so used to you ignoring me or telling me you don’t care—”
“You have a point.”
“—that I tend to assume you never know what’s going in my life. But yes, Mina and Anabel will be there. They’re doing well – really well, actually. It’ll be nice to catch up in person and spend some more time with them.”
Levi’s quiet at that, and I glance down at him to gage his expression. It’s so frustrating that I can’t scent his emotions like I can with other people. (Have I mentioned that yet this evening? I’d like to put it on record for the 300th time please.)
He’s frowning. But, as I chance a second glance at him, I can tell it’s not his angry, wrathful, annoyed, or disappointed frown. No, this looks more like his thoughtful frown. Maybe. Or perhaps his “how do I say this?” frown?
Whatever. He’ll spit out the words he’s chewing on in a second.
I shove my hands into my pockets, find a pair of gloves I forgot I bought the last time I wore this coat a year ago. I’m sure they smell like home still, and my chest tightens around the knot of homesickness I’ve never quite managed to unravel all the way.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help her,” Levi says eventually, breaking me from my thoughts. “Although she probably had no clue who I was, and I’m sure me not being there made fuck all of a difference to her, I still…I regret not being able to support her when she needed support.”
“There was like five of us living under one roof, man,” I remind him, “don’t sweat it. We managed just fine, and you had your own shit to deal with.”
“Still.” He looks up. Not at me, just the darkness in front of us, seeing what I don’t know. “I should have been better than that. She went through an ordeal and I acted like my own problems were more important.”
I stop in my tracks, and he’s forced to turn and look at me. There are snowflakes melting in his hair.
I blink at him twice, slow and dramatic.
“Am I hearing this right?” I ask in mocking astonishment, and yea there’s his annoyed frown alright. I’m very familiar with that one. “Did the Great Vampire Levi, Sworn Enemy to All Werewolves, just express regret—nay, remorse over ignoring the plight of his most hated foe?”
He’s shaking his head at me, and it’s the same I’m so tired of your bullshit shake of the head that Hannes always gave me when I came home from a run dripping with mud and proceeded to track it everywhere in the house. Levi’s giving me his best unimpressed deadpan to go along with it, and I grin in the face of this, as cheeky as you like. He huffs and turns his head to the side, barely suppressing a roll of his eyes.
“You think I’m funny,” I tell him. Immediately regret saying it when his head whips back and his lips part in actual surprise.
“I think you’re losing your mind, kid,” he corrects. “There is not a single word you’ve said to me in the last four months that I would ever consider to be funny. Not one.”
Wow. What a liar. I’m wounded by this.
“I just had you laughing over dinner, like, not even an hour ago,” I remind him, “in public. There were witnesses, so quit lying to me please.” I attempt to turn on my heel triumphantly, but the ice on the path kind of ruins it for me. Still. I walk on ahead down the street, head held high in Levi’s wake. I can hear him laughing ever so quietly under his breath behind me, and that might be because I almost lost my balance and bit the curb, but whatever. A laugh is a laugh.
I say to him over my shoulder; “Quit lying to yourself, too. You think I’m hilarious, and charming, and you totally don’t want me dead these days.” He’s caught up to me now, so I bump his shoulder with mine as I tease him. “You actually like me and our little Pack. You get on with the others, and worry about what they think of you. You regret not helping Mina, and you probably want to do something to make up for that, but you don’t know what yet.”
He narrows his eyes at me, tuts like he’s about to start denying it. I stall him before he can.
“Hey,” I say, and echo his words from earlier; “I’m not blind Levi. I do notice the things you do to show you care.”
At that, he actually shoves me into the snow, and stalks on ahead, acting (or perhaps really, but I’m not willing to bet on it) annoyed. I hear him mutter “complete idiot” to himself and can’t help but laugh.
“Hey, come on!” I call after him as I struggle to my feet. I hurry to catch up, reach out for him to try and grab him and forcibly slow his furious pace somehow. “It’s icy, come on, slow down,” I warn, very logically, and finally manage to snag his arm.
He does slow down (thank fuck) but he pulls out of my grip almost immediately, and crosses his arms over his chest. It’s meant to be haughty and defensive, I’m sure, but all it really does is make me notice how red his fingers are now. I reach into my pocket and pull out my gloves, hold them out to him without comment.
He glances at them. Doesn’t take them, the obstinate bastard. I huff and step in front of him, walking backwards at pace with him, hoping I don’t crash into anything or anyone as I grab his hand, ready to physically wrestle the gloves on him if I have to. To my (probably visible) surprise, he actually lets me do it, slowing his pace to make it easier for me.
I swallow the sarcastic comment I was about to make when I feel just how cold his hands are, the humour of the situation leaving me, replaced by concern.
“We really shouldn’t be walking around out here if you’re this cold,” I say, pulling the gloves on quickly and pressing his hands together between my palms, willing the warmth to seep in. “Maybe we should find a bar to keep warm at or something?”
I bring his gloved hands up to my lips to blow hot air on them for good measure, squeezing.
Aaaand then I realise with a jolt exactly what I’m doing and to whom, and I freeze, wide eyed, staring at him over our joined hands where they’re still pressed against my lips.
Ah.
Levi is equally frozen, colour high in his cheeks from the cold, grey eyes almost black in the dark as he stares up at me. He lets out a shuddering breath, ghostly white in the chill air, and I can scent a bead of something close to alarm on it.
Shit.
I lower our hands, try to think of something to say that might explain why I clearly just overstepped a line here. I know he’ll most likely accept it if I say it’s my goddamn stupid werewolf brain making me think that manhandling people is appropriate social behaviour. And usually it is! Only, my wolf is still practically unconscious right now from his eventful day of werewolfy activity, so this one is entirely on me (and I think perhaps maybe possibly Levi can tell).
Damn. Now I’m beginning to panic.
Levi presses his lips together, and very deliberately takes one hand back from my hold, leaving me holding onto the other. He curls his fingers a little, adding pressure against my palm as if to say I’m going to need this back now, and I very nearly drop his hand like it’s burnt me.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe in a rush. “I’m sorry? I don’t really know what—or why—I didn’t mean—”
Levi raises an eyebrow at me and tilts his head, clearly trying to figure out what I’m babbling about. I shut my mouth. “Like I said,” he muses, sounding (miraculously) unbothered by the whole thing, “you’re losing your mind, kid. Let’s take a shortcut through here.”
And then he turns off the sidewalk and under a tall iron archway that reads Ilse Langnar Memorial Gardens.
The Gardens are empty this time of night, but still open to the public. Paid for by the city, they are wide and winding, set between high walls that offer inquisitive explorers a birds-eye view of the grounds below; the carefully tended lawns, rose gardens, terraces, ponds, the bandstand that sits empty at this time of year, the tall sycamore trees and the woolly firs with their boughs and trunks entwined with vines of Christmas lights. The paths are salted, and the crunch of our feet over snow and ice seems too loud in this quiet space as we cut through the heart of the gardens together. The sounds of the city fade away, all distant and muted now we’re off the main thoroughfares and wrapped up in nature.
It’s a place I haven’t been to often, what with my city trips usually consisting of shopping, workouts, or cinema expeditions, but under the cover of snow and darkness, it is completely unrecognisable to me.
I let Levi lead the way, trusting he knows where he’s going more than I do.
“How’s Armin, by the way?” Levi asks unprompted as he kicks at the fallen chestnuts scattered on the path. It’s late in the year for chestnuts, I think, but stranger things have happened. Like Levi’s sudden choice of conversation, for example.
“Uh, good?” I offer. “I mean, he’s struggling with his studying, but he’ll still get a top mark on whatever essay he manages to pull out of his ass. Me and Mikasa have got money on it.”
“I meant with his parents,” Levi specifies. And ah. Right.
I sigh.
“Not gonna lie to you, I haven’t heard anything. I don’t know if they’ve seen his post yet – although personally I find it hard to believe that no one’s mentioned it to them, considering how many likes and comments it got from his friends back home. You’d think someone might have mentioned it to his parents or something, but whatever. He hasn’t spoken to them, as far as I’m aware.” And I know that he wouldn’t keep something like that quiet, no matter the outcome.
“Is he upset by that?” Levi asks, and again, I don’t know what’s prompted this line of conversation, but I remind myself that Levi actually knows Armin, and likes him too; he’s worried about our friend and the bullshit said friend might be dealing with right now. I indulge his curiosity.
“Yea, I think so,” I admit. “Again, he hasn’t said anything to me outright, but he’s been quiet this week – and not just because he’s been studying. He’s nervous, anxious. He’s sort of backing himself into a corner mentally, I think, and it sucks cos there’s not much that can solve that one except him hashing it out with his folks.”
Levi nods, blows air into the night in a hot stream of a sigh. “So he’d have to open up that conversation himself—”
“Which is what he wanted to avoid in the first place,” I point out.
“—or he just has to wait for them to make the next move, and hope it pans out alright.”
“I think even if it doesn’t work out okay, that’s probably better for him than the not knowing,” I say. We sigh in stereo.
“Shit,” Levi says.
“Pretty much,” I agree. I swallow, and figure hey! if we’re already walking this path of conversation tonight, I might as well get it all out there. “I’m sort of worried about going back home over winter break too. Like, as much as I miss my family, I also kinda consider Armin to be family too now. I don’t know if he’ll be able to go home, and I don’t like the thought of him being stuck here by himself, you know?”
Levi hums, thoughtful, and looks up at me, raises an eyebrow.
“Why don’t you just take him back to stay with you?” he suggests. I blink. What? “I seem to remember something about Packs being an excellent support system for those in need; welcoming, understanding, accepting of others struggles, yada yada. I’m sure your uncle wouldn’t mind you bringing a friend home for Christmas. At least that way you know he won’t be alone, or in a shitty family situation.”
“Levi,” I manage to say, before the surprised laughter bubbles up and out into the night. I shake my head at him in disbelief. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“Why is that funny to you?” he asks, offended-but-not-really. I laugh again, and he stops in the middle of the path, bathed in lamplight. “No, seriously. Are you trying to tell me I can’t have good ideas?”
“Well usually your ideas involve maiming or day drinking, so…”
He puts his hands on his hips. “Your point?”
I laugh again (can’t help it) and sling my arm around his shoulder, using the momentum to get him walking once more. He slips a little on the icy path, and pinches my ribs in retaliation, making me squeak and stumble backwards, almost winding up with my ass in the low hedge that lines the edge of the pathway.
He openly laughs at me, tells me it serves me right, and then we continue like that as we meander through the park, lightly teasing each other about the clearly stupid and reckless things we’ve done in the time we’ve known each other, and all the poor consequences of those decisions that we totally deserved.
As we’re passing by the bandstand, we hit a particularly slick spot of ice (hard to spot in the dark until Levi almost loses his balance, and grabs my arm in an attempt to stay upright that nearly sends me sprawling) and we have a moment of struggle that genuinely makes me glad there are no witnesses about right now, and no cameras to catch our embarrassingly uncoordinated flail of limbs. We cling to each other, laughing hard at our own complete lack of grace, the laughter threatening to unbalance us all over again as we slip and slide our way the next few feet until finally we clear the most treacherous part and take a moment to catch our breathes.
My heart is beating heavy in my chest, the small hiccup of adrenaline from the whole affair threatening to wake my wolf, but failing. My throat hurts from the cold, from laughing so much, and I cough and wheeze as Levi’s deep, genuine laughter falls around us like the snow.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe (with feeling) when I can, and level a good-humoured glare at my friend. “Did you have to wear those ridiculous shoes tonight? I know you’ve got boots with more grip on them somewhere.”
Levi’s bent almost double, hands braced on his thighs as he catches his breath, but he cranes his neck up at me and there’s a smirk dancing on his lips. “I wanted to look presentable when I took you out to dinner,” he says matter-of-factly, and then stands straight, smooths down the front of his jacket with his glove-covered hands. Cocks his head to one side with an anything-but-innocent look. “Is that a crime?”
And well. If the look he’s giving me is making me feel warmer than I should by rights be on this cold November night, he doesn’t need to know. I clear my throat, still dry from the cold air, and try to come up with a response that won’t give him exactly what he wants.
Levi waves a hand, stops me before I’ve started.
“But you’re right,” he tells me, “these shoes are a health hazard, and the weather is shittier than I planned for.” He gestures on ahead of us, where we can see the gates at the other end of the gardens gleaming under the distant lamplight. “My place isn’t far from here. Want to come in for a drink?”
Levi turns his gaze back to me, and oh okay. That’s really not the sort of look you give to a totally platonic friend as you ask them over to yours late at night for a drink after taking them out to dinner. If it were anyone else, I’d be expecting this night to end hot and heavy, just from that look and offer alone. (I sincerely hope that the blush spreading across my cheeks can be mistaken for the cold and nothing else.)
But then I think; this isn’t anyone else, is it? No. This is Levi we’re talking about. He’s always toed the line between suggestive and dangerous; he’s always pushed buttons and tempted and teased (in a number of ways, really), but he never actually means any of it, and I think even he would draw the line at propositioning a werewolf like that.
I swallow, and try to ignore how much it tastes of disappointment.
“Sure,” I say. Try to sound unbothered – nonchalant, even. “Totally. That’s super chill, I can do that.”
“Well look,” Levi says, clearly reading my attempted at nonchalance for disinterest. “If you’ve gotta get back to your pups, we can always just call it a night. I’ll understand if you’re sick of me.”
I want to kick myself. Would if I thought I could do it without ending up on my ass again. Why am I always such a mess? (Jean was right, goddamnit.)
“No, I want to come to home with you,” I say, and regret my word choice immediately as I see Levi’s eyes widen in surprise.
Too much, Jaeger, too much. Pull it back!
“I mean, I don’t have other plans tonight, so I’m all yours til tomorrow if you want me.”
Jesus Christ stop talking.
Levi’s smiling now though, a proper smile, so it kind of makes up for the fact that I hate myself in this moment. I scent a hint of something real and alive and eager coming from him, and my stomach does this weird little dance as I see a familiar desire flaring in the dark grey of his eyes, and my breath catches in my throat.
(On second thoughts, maybe I was wrong about where Levi’s metaphorical line in the sand is these days when it comes to propositioning werewolves late at night.)
I lick my lips, the cold air making them tingle. When did we get this close?
We’re standing in each other’s shadow, blocking out the light around us as we hang in this moment. I can feel Levi’s warm breath ghosting against me as he grins up at me. Can smell the cologne he’s wearing, the gin he’s been drinking. Beneath it all I can smell Levi and Pack, and it makes me chest feel tight.
The desire to lean down and taste it all and kiss away that grin of his hits me like a freight train.
(Oh this isn’t good.)
Levi takes a step closer – impossibly closer – and my body moves on its own, following the movement, caught in this gravity. I lift a hand, brush my thumb across his cheekbone, catch a snowflake that hasn’t melted yet. He stills under my touch, lips parted, pupils blown, and the scent that still lingers around him tightens into hunger as he watches me.
(Oh this isn’t good at all.)
I cup his jaw with the palm of my hand, feel his pulse, wild and warm. I dig my thumb in, tilt his head up, the snowflakes melting in his hair catch the light as he lets me, and I lean forwards.
He tenses.
I stop, instantly afraid that I’ve misread this somehow, that this isn’t what he wanted, and I pull away.
“I’m sorry—” I start to apologise, try to salvage this somehow because the last thing I want is to upset him here, but then a chill drops down my spine, and the words die in my mouth. My wolf stands bolt upright, and I realise with sickening dread exactly what had made Levi so tense.
It wasn’t me. No. Not me at all.
There’s another supernatural being nearby, and they’re closing in on us.