Chapter Text
You need money. Urgently.
It’s embarrassing, facing constant rejection from almost every job you apply to. And if it’s not an outright rejection, it’s dead silence from any potential employers. You aren’t sure why it’s so hard to find a job, even the minimum wage positions haven’t responded with any offers.
You really don’t want to tell your roommates that you may be late with your portion of the rent again. Eren and Armin have already compensated for you more than you could repay them for. They allowed you to rent out the bedroom of the previous tenant, Mikasa, as she moved out to study abroad in Japan. You met her through a mutual friend, Ymir, who recommended you to her to rent the empty room. The apartment was a fair size for three people, and even though your room was small, Eren and Armin adjusted your portion of the rent accordingly.
Despite your current financial difficulties, you don’t regret moving out of state to go to school. It was still worth being able to get out of your hometown, expand your horizons and press the reset button on your life. While you did miss your family, you realized you needed to leave to really grow as a person.
But fuck, college is expensive. Even without the pressure for paying for a lot of the tuition, food costs and rent are hemorrhaging your funds. You’ve tried to be frugal and smart about your spending, but your savings ran out much quicker than you anticipated. You didn’t want to burden your parents with all of your expenses since this was your decision, and you really hated depending on them for money. So you decided that you needed to figure out your financial situation by yourself.
With a sigh, you reluctantly knock on Eren’s door, bracing yourself to bring the bad news. Eren opens the door, concern immediately spreads on his face when he notices your anxious expression.
“What’s up?” He motions for you to come in and you plop down on his bed in defeat, sighing as you stare up at the ceiling.
“Look, I’m not sure I’m going to have my part of the rent in time…” you start, letting out another exasperated sigh, “Job hunting is so hard. Can’t we just go back to the bartering system? I hate it here.”
Eren snorts, a sympathetic look on his face as he leans back in his chair, “If you need the money, you know I’m good for it.”
With a dramatic groan, your head shakes as you drag your hands down your face, “Absolutely not. I can’t owe you even more money.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about that? Just focus on keeping some kind of cash in your account. Let me handle it-”
“Eren.” You interrupt him, kicking your dangling legs off the side of his bed, “Please. You’ve already helped enough. I’ll figure out something.”
The brunette pouts, honoring your request not to offer again and opting to change the topic instead, “Armin mentioned there’s a café near his work that’s hiring. Maybe you can try applying there?”
Café, huh? You really want to avoid going into customer service jobs. They’re emotionally exhausting, having to always bring up a bubbly façade for people who treat you like dirt. Though at this point, do you even have the luxury of a choice? Not really. It couldn’t hurt to try, at least just temporarily until you find something closer to your career goals.
“Hey, you listening? Hellooooo?” A foot nudges against your leg, bringing you out of your thoughts.
You reach to grab one of Eren’s pillows and throw it at his head and he yelps, indignant. “Hey! Don’t fuck up my hair, it took me a long time to nail the perfect bun today.” Despite his tone, he’s smirking as he throws the pillow right back at you while you sit up, giggling.
“Your bun is stupid,” you stick your tongue out at him but he only returns the gesture, “I guess I can take a look at this café. Send me the address, will you?”
“Sure thing.” He says with a laugh.
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You’ve walked into god knows how many establishments prior to this café, yet the anxiety that pours onto you like a bucket of ice water never recedes when you have to ask for an application. You take your usual deep breath before pulling open the door and stepping inside.
The storefront is quaint and cozy, contrasting wildly against the modern high rise skyscrapers that tower over you in the outside plaza. The wooden-trimmed walls are decorated with an assortment of plants that also dangle from the ceiling. There’s a few large windows, allowing for the sunlight to seep into the main seating area. A couple of small wooden tables are scattered throughout the room, each bearing a centerpiece consisting of flowers filling glass jars.
There’s a bar with a few stools and a waiting area at the end of it, which you assume is where the drinks are called out for customers. The menu is printed on the back wall, clear and concise. There’s a comforting aesthetic in this place, which you feel doesn’t belong next to such a dismal row of corporate buildings that lie adjacent to it.
Three employees stand behind the counter, all conversing with each other. The male employee is significantly taller than his female counterparts, bearing an undercut and fierce eyes as he towers over them. He points to something on the register while speaking to the blonde next to him. Her eyes catch your attention immediately, a piercing blue that meets yours as soon as you walk in.
“Hello, welcome!” She greets, instantly perking up with a sweet grin.
You return the greeting, and introduce yourself before asking for an application. The blonde averts her gaze to the man behind the counter who you assume is probably the manager. As he hands you the application pulled from under the counter top, he introduces himself as well.
“I’m Jean, shift manager. This is Historia,” He says, pointing to the blonde, “And this is Sasha.” The brunette offers a polite wave. “We’re looking for someone with a relatively open schedule, something to keep in mind.”
You nod in acknowledgement, glancing briefly over the paper, “Would you like a resume as well?”
Jean seems a little surprised at your question, and you wonder if many other people ask about turning in a resume, “Uh, yea sure if you want.”
You didn’t really expect to get a call back, especially the next day. Of course you wanted to hope for a call but after all of the rejections lately, you realized cautious optimism would be best.
Jean called you to come in for an interview the next week. You figured you’d wait until you actually got hired before passing any news on to Eren and Armin.
Despite your nerves at the beginning of the interview, Jean was surprisingly easy to hold a conversation with. It flowed fairly naturally as he asked the typical interview questions. Though you could see after some time he was getting restless, as he started fidgeting as the interview progressed.
“Okay look, I know I should be more formal but frankly I don’t think I need to ask why you’re here today. It’s a job, the economy is shit and everyone needs money. Your application and resume look solid and you seem like you’d be a good fit compared to everyone else I’ve interviewed lately,” he rants and you can only stare in mild shock at how quickly he’s dropped the professional façade, “So, when can you start?”
“Anytime you need me! I can start as soon as possible.” You say before he can change his mind.
He looks relieved, but also tired. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been conducting interviews all day and settled for you. The tension disappeared from his face as he stood up and shook your hand.
“Thank you so much, Jean. Seriously, you have no idea how grateful I am,” you feel as though a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders, at least now you’ll have a reliable income to cover your rent and even pay Eren back.
He scoffs, “It’s just a shitty minimum wage job kid, nothing special. See you next week,” his tone is sarcastic but you can see he’s satisfied with your enthusiasm.
-----------------------
You come home bursting through the front door, declaring your victory in finally landing a job after months of endless searching. Armin bolts upright from his seat at the kitchen table, once intently focused on the screen of his laptop, now throwing a celebratory cheer as you dance clumsily around the kitchen.
“Congrats! I’m really glad the suggestion worked out for you.” Armin says, leaning his chin in his palm with a proud smile.
“He called so quickly, and the interview? God, he straight up asked when I wanted to start, can you believe that? Bless his soul!” sighing in relief, you lean against the counter still beaming at Armin when Eren appears through the doorway with his eyebrows raised at you.
“I’m assuming your crazy ass got the job?” he asks, an arm propped up on the doorframe as he tilts his head. He cracks a grin once you give him an enthusiastic nod, “We should celebrate! Nothing like celebrating a new job like spending your whole first paycheck on stupid shit, am I right?”
“Eren! I haven’t even gotten paid yet,” You say indignantly.
“Come on, we haven’t gone clubbing in a while. Pleeease?” He puts his hands up in a prayer mockingly and you debate on saying no just to get a reaction out of him, “Don’t worry about the cost, we can cover you. Don’t you wanna see Armin smashed again?”
The blonde stands up, flustered, “I did not get smashed last time! I was just a little tipsy. Besides, even if I did happen to get a little more than tipsy I wasn’t sloppy!”
“Oh please, you’re telling me you would’ve been sandwiched between two girls on the dance floor sober? Or just tipsy ?” Eren accuses.
Armin’s silence has you two bursting out laughing, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.
“I do miss dancefloor master Armin, actually…” You trail off as he shuts his laptop wordlessly, face flushed with embarrassment, “Alright, fine. But after my first shift! It doesn’t feel real yet.”
-----------------------
Training wasn’t too difficult for you to get the hang of, as this hasn’t been your first food service position. You learned that the café was understaffed, hence Jean’s hastiness to call you in for an interview so quickly after giving your application, and even his eagerness to hire you.
You note that Historia tends to handle most of the customers on the register, her bright and sweet tone offer for a welcoming environment that gives a pretty good impression on anyone walking in. Sasha walks you through most of the job duties, constantly asking if you have any questions and if you’re taking in the information well enough. She’s explaining the basics of using the register as Historia kindly greets the man walking through the door.
Sasha points him out as she serves him, “Oh, that’s Mr. Ackerman. He’s really close friends with the owner here, and a regular. He only gets tea, but he’s super finicky with how it’s prepared. Jean should teach you his order before you help him, he can be… scary.”
Her voice has dropped down to a shaky whisper as she stares at this Mr. Ackerman with what you sense as… fear?
You’ve dealt with picky customers before, but you can’t imagine he’d warrant such fear with employees who have to deal with him everyday, especially if he’s a friend of the owner, right?
Your eyes trail over his frame, he’s not very tall but the expression he wears is sour, a scowl that silently says, don’t approach me . He appears to be older than you, but not by much. He wears a fitted suit that looks more expensive than all of the clothing you own combined, even his watch is probably worth more than what you have in your bank account right now. His hair is neatly trimmed, just barely falling over his gray-blue eyes.
He’s kind of pretty, you decide. In a subtle way.
Even if he does seem to be in a bad mood.
As Historia hands him back his card and receipt, his eyes dart straight to yours, locking for a brief moment. A sharp pang of anxiety rings through you as his gaze flits up and down your figure similarly to how you were just a second ago. You freeze, unable to even react quick enough before he swiftly turns away, striding towards the bar to wait for his drink.
Okay, the fear in Sasha’s eyes certainly isn’t unwarranted.
Your thoughts linger on that moment of eye contact for the rest of the day, hardly retaining any other information Sasha that dumps on you for the remainder of your shift.
-----------------------
You finally concede to Eren’s request for a celebration a few days after your first shift. And though it’s only a weekday, the bars and clubs are fairly packed. There aren't any significantly long lines, but the dancefloors definitely aren’t lifeless. The later it gets, the more people filter in over time.
You even texted one of your closest friends, Ymir, if she was available tonight. She mentioned she’d meet up with you three later. There’s a low chance she’d pass up the opportunity to go out with you, taking any opportunity to drink and party for the “true college experience”, as she had put it so delicately.
The first bar you enter isn’t crazy crowded, and the three of you manage to find a spot near the center of the counter. Eren waves over the bartender, ordering three shots right off the bat.
You were hoping to start off light with a beer, but apparently, the brunette aims to get all three of you intoxicated much quicker. With all glasses raised, Eren clears his throat in anticipation of a toast for you.
“For landing a job in this shitty economy!”
You and Armin laugh before downing the shot, coughing as your hands search out for some kind of chaser. Eren passes over the other drink he ordered as you and the blonde desperately take turns chugging it.
Your eyes widen, but before you can say anything Armin shouts, “Jesus Eren, is this more alcohol?”
He doesn’t respond. Simply smirking at the two of you then scanning over the dance floor. The drinks are already hitting you hard, and the “chaser” you downed didn’t serve to cushion the blow of the shot. Heat spreads across your face as you giggle.
“You sure seem eager to party tonight.”
“Maybe I am,” Eren glances over at you, a mischievous glint in his eye.
You shake your head in mock disappointment, “Such a delinquent.”
He merely chuckles as you shove at him. Both of you look over at Armin, wondering if the shot was already enough to tear down his usual reservations on mingling on the dancefloor. And before either of you can say anything he already knows.
“It’s going to take more than that to get me sloppy you guys!”
“Is that a challenge?” Eren grins.
“Absolutely not! When did this turn into a mission to get me hammered?” Armin looks indignant but his tone is playful and light.
You grin, patting his shoulder, “Let’s just consider it a part of my celebration, hm?” You turn, grabbing both of the men’s arms and pull them towards the dance floor.
The three of you dance in a small circle amongst yourselves, getting into the groove of the music. The bass booms throughout the bar, vibrating through your body and sending shivers down your spine. Alright, definitely getting tipsy now, if not a tad more than that.
You brush up against Armin with a snicker and he plays along. His face is more flushed than yours, being much less tolerant of alcohol. Though Eren has both of you beat there. When you look for him, he's already headed back to the bar for more drinks.
You take Armin’s hands and intertwine your fingers, swaying his arms around as the song’s tempo builds. You’re both laughing and jumping up and down as the beat drops into the chorus, loudly singing along with the rest of the crowd.
Eren returns holding three glasses, luckily this time they’re mixed drinks as opposed to actual shots. Both you and Armin grab the glasses, clinking them together in another toast as you all take a swig.
Eventually, the songs start blending together. Vocals mesh in what sounds like a never-ending tune. You three bounce around enthusiastically with everyone else around you. Every time a familiar song plays, you're singing along—not very well, but good enough. You take turns halfheartedly grinding on each other, thoroughly amused at the sight of Armin and Eren shaking against each other while cackling.
It’s the first time you’ve felt carefree in a while, the pressure of getting a job has lifted from your shoulders. Which allows you to truly enjoy yourself in the moment. After finishing the rest of your glass, the appeal of fresh air calls to you. The warmth of the booze is a little overwhelming, overloading your senses the hotter it gets in the crowd. With a slight stumble, you move to the outdoor smoking area, appreciating the crisp coldness of the air outside. It sobers you up a bit, and you pull out your phone, checking for a response from Ymir.
On the way. Don't get too fucked up without me :)
That was twenty minutes ago. You scan the inside of the club, searching for any sign of her.
The sound of your name being shouted from the smoking area causes you to whip your head around to find the source. It’s Ymir. A brisk few steps later with a grin plastered on her face, she's in front of you. A cigarette sits in her hand. She’s wearing a black lace top and tight leather pants, sporting a simple makeup look. Something she usually goes for on nights like this.
“There you are!” Ymir tackles you in a hug, smothering you fondly while she ruffles your hair. “Congrats on the job girlie! About time.”
“Hey! Shit, you’re certainly dressed up for the occasion,” you note with a grin after giving a brief hug, “Thanks for coming out.”
“Of course, you know I’d never miss out on a chance to party with my girl. That and I haven’t danced with cute girls in for-fucking-ever. Have you gotten a drink yet?” She asks.
“Eren already got us a few. But I’m starting to feel awfully sober,” You taunt, Ymir nudges you towards the bar with her hand on your lower back and a sly smirk.
“You don’t look nearly sober at all, but I’m not opposed to buying you a drink anyway.”
The two of you lean against the counter of the bar, flagging down the bartender and Ymir orders two shots for you to down together. She casually flirts with the bartender as she pours the drinks, playful banter bouncing between the two of them as you watch in amusement.
You admire Ymir’s shamelessness and boldness when it comes to speaking to people. You always loved the way she was never afraid to be herself no matter who she interacted with. A lot of people tended to shy away from her brashness, but it was something you appreciated. Even Eren and Armin respect her fearlessness.
For a while, you two catch up. You explain your troubles with finding a job since you moved, and the bizarre manner in which you were hastily hired at the café. Per Ymir’s request to know if there were any cute girls that worked there, you give a vague description of your coworkers. She perks right up when you talk about Historia, clearly very interested once you tell her how gorgeous she is. Perhaps you could introduce them, if she’s even into girls. Ymir has a weak spot for blondes.
“Y’know…” Ymir starts, sipping at the beer in her hand and staring up at the screens above the bar, “I could’ve helped you with rent if you were having such a hard time. Seriously, why not hit me up?”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Shit. I get you hate asking for help but it’s better than being in debt, or fucking homeless. I could’ve at least given you some pointers on making some quick cash!” Ymir exclaims.
Curiosity washes over you as you lean against her shoulder, looking up at her with a grin, “I mean, I’ll still take the pointers, just in case.”
She snickers, chugging at her drink, “You could always get a sugar daddy.”
You nearly spit out your coke and rum at her suggestion, “Sugar daddy?! I don’t know about that. I can’t even use shit like Tinder, Ymir.”
“It’s different from Tinder. You don’t even necessarily have to sleep with anyone. Maybe they just want attention, and a dinner or something. You can make a ton of extra cash from it.”
“And you know this, how exactly?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.
“I might’ve tried it, back in the day,” she doesn’t look at you but she’s smiling knowingly, “Look, I’m just saying! I know you have a job now but if things get difficult it’s an option. It’s not as scary as you think. Sometimes they’re hot, even. I’ve gotten money for doing the most mundane things.”
“I’m not judging! I just… I don’t know. I think this job should be enough for me. At least for now,” you finish your beverage, noticing Eren and Armin breaking away from the dance floor and approaching the two of you.
“If you say so. But if you ever decide to go for it, I don’t mind helping you out,” she says as she moves to greet them with a hug.
As they catch up, you suggest hopping to another bar. Ymir mentions one a few blocks down the street, it’s slightly more upscale but none of you seem to mind. The four of you drunkenly make your way towards the second bar, noticing the longish line that stacks against the wall. She promises it’s worth it though, and with the group consisting of two girls now, you’re more likely to get in faster.
You’re not completely fucked up yet, but you’re getting there. It’s difficult for you to stand upright on your own so you settle for leaning on the wall of the building as you wait. Ymir and Armin are discussing something but you can’t quite make out the words they’re saying. You know it’s something funny, as Ymir is laughing and patting the blonde on the back, who flinches at the rough contact.
Ymir always does that, hitting just a little too hard when she laughs. You smile fondly at the two, the delightful heat that alcohol usually brings you tingles throughout your whole body.
Something brushes against your left arm. It’s Eren, leaning against the wall next to you. His eyes meet yours, amusement coloring them as he sends the same mischievous grin he wore when you arrived at the first bar.
“Having fun?” He asks, his hands in his pockets. His hair is messier than earlier, strands straying from the bun he worked so hard to keep in tact when you left the house. You nod happily, and he chuckles.
“You look like you’re up to no good,” you mutter, suspicious of him. He’s shifting around too much in his pockets for you to not notice.
“Guilty,” he replies with a sly smirk, pulling out an electronic vape pen from his pocket and placing it between his lips, inhaling slowly. He exhales away from your face, smoke covering your peripherals. You sniff, realizing it’s not a typical vape as he offers it to you, “Want a hit?”
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Maybe.”
You scoff, snatching the pen from his hands as he snickers. You inhale, dragging in too much too quickly in your drunken eagerness, and as you exhale a violent cough hacks out. Ymir and Armin whip around in concern and they both take note of the pen in your hand. Eren pats you on the back gently, “Sheesh, take it easy.”
You let them know you’re okay, but the high smacks you in the face. Only further amplified from your previous drinking. You don’t smoke too often, at least not as much as Eren who seems to always have some form of weed on his person. Though you don’t say no to a little bit of a high when partying, it helps your nerves. It generally made things fun for you, and with Eren’s seemingly endless supply, why not take advantage of that once in a while?
Armin’s asking you a question but you’re incredibly lightheaded now, failing to register what he’s saying. Eren waves gives a nonchalant wave, assuring him that you’re fine as you take a deep breath. Ymir takes a hit from the pen as well, expertly avoiding the coughing fit you subjected yourself. Armin passes, he never smokes.
You suppose it’s better that way, at least one person should be somewhat coherent.
The line moves quickly after that hit. Time moves much quicker in general. You find yourself suddenly on another dance floor that’s significantly larger than the last. Much more crowded than the last. There’s another glass in your hand, and you faintly remember drinking a shot when you entered.
The four of you are in a small circle again, dancing under the strobe of LED lights that flash to the beat of the song. Female vocals echo in your ears, cruising through your veins as the bass trembles through your limbs. Your body moves against Ymir’s slim tall frame while her hands on your hips guide you to the beat of the music briefly. Armin takes your drink from you, stealing a sip with a grin.
Reality fades in and out and before you know it, Eren is in front of you now. You can’t hear a word he’s trying to tell you over the music. He takes your empty glass you forgot you were holding. You’re grateful for the gesture, not knowing how much longer you could hold something without dropping it in your current state.
Eren then clasps your hand, similarly with how you and Armin did just a short while ago. He moves to spin you around and pulls you into his chest for a loose embrace. His body radiates warmth and you lean into it, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.
“Whaaaat, you wear cologne?” You look at him with mock surprise.
“Of course I do, I’m not trying to be musty,” he says with a laugh.
“I don’t know, that beard phase you went through kinda told me otherwise,” you jest, and he glares down at you.
“Fuck off, the beard was cool!”
“You looked like a hobo.”
“No I didn’t!”
“You did! And I bet Mikasa was the one who told you to shave that shit off.”
He grumbles incoherently, embarrassed. And you can only burst out laughing in response as you send a light smack on his chest. Eren pulls in for another hug, and even though the two of you only stay this way for a couple of minutes, your heart’s racing. You chalk it up to being fucked up, ignoring whatever the feeling is that rises in your chest. You tend to play around with Eren like this a lot, it’s no different than the other times you’ve crossed the physical touching barrier with him.
Eren taps your arm with the metal end of his pen; a silent question if you’d like another hit. A slow nod sends him moving towards the balcony near the entrance of the bar, motioning for you to follow.
Once again, you find yourself in deep appreciation for the cool air that nips at your skin, forming goosebumps on your forearms. You hunch over one of the bar counters with a satisfied sigh.
Eren’s inhaling from the pen again, closing his eyes with an exhale as his back is pressed against the same counter you’re leaning on. There’s a light sheen of sweat that’s covering his skin, you notice.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks, handing over the vape.
You’re much more cautious this time as you draw in a breath from the device. You’d rather not cough up your lungs again.
“Faaaaaaantastic,” you say with an obnoxious declaration, legs growing wobbly once the second wave of the high washes over your senses.
“Easy there,” the brunette grins, pulling up one of the bar stools next to you and guiding you to sit on it.
You easily plop down, grateful for the extra support. You lean your face into both of your palms, smiling up at him, “Heeeeeey you!”
Eren chuckles, pen placed between his lips, “Hey yourself, weirdo.”
“You know, I used to think your hair was ridiculous. But now? It’s kinda hot. Especially when it’s messy,” you say, swaying side to side to the faint music playing inside. He simply rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead playfully.
“Ow!” You rub your head, sending a pout in his direction.
“You’re cute when you’re fucked up, you know that?” Eren scoots a little closer next to you, completely ignoring your backhanded compliment.
“Excuse you,” you hiccup, raising a finger up towards his face, “I’m always cute.”
He chortles, eyes alight with amusement. His hair is only halfway up now, you observe, eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed similarly to yours. He smells of alcohol and weed, but for some reason you enjoy it.
“Thanks, Eren. For all of this, really,” you mumble happily.
“Don’t mention it. And don’t stress about paying me back, I refuse to accept any money from you,” Eren says softly, passing the pen back to you.
“What?! You’re taking my money. My first paycheck is going to rent and then straight to you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“ Why?!”
“I don’t want it.”
“Booo. I’ll find a way to give it to you whether you like it or not,” you poke his cheek and he swats your hand away.
“God, you really hate owing anyone anything, huh?” He sighs, ruffling your hair..
“So do you. You always hate when people help you,” you sit up with a pretend glare on your face, pulling back your hair to imitate Eren’s bun and lowering your voice mockingly, “ I don’t need anybody’s help. Especially not Mikasa’s. I don’t need to be babysat. I’m a MAN.”
Eren narrows his eyes, sheepish as he folds his arms clicking his tongue, “Pft. I don’t sound anything like that! And you have no idea how overbearing Mikasa used to be! I’m surprised she even left for Japan at all.”
“You just have too much pride for your own good,” you attempt to stand up and prod at his chest, stumbling and bumping into him. With a firm grip on your arms he stabilizes you as he scoffs.
“I’m pretty sure that’s just you projecting,” He deflects, refusing to look at you.
“For someone who complains about people trying to help you too much, you sure do try to help me a lot, Jaeger,” you chide, pinching his cheeks. He leans away from your hand with a slight grumble in his voice.
“Alright, I think you need a break from the drinks. And the weed,” Eren changes the topic as you huff, proclaiming that you’re absolutely fine only to slip again, giggling. His grip on your arms tightens when he sits you back down on the stool.
“You need a break from the man bun. Seriously, your hairline is receding.”
“You just said it was hot!”
“Yeah, I lied.”
Eren simply rolls his eyes, giving you a gentle shove to your arm. He always appreciates your playful banter, especially when you are considerably fucked up. He thinks it’s cute, the way you slur your words and blurt out things you normally wouldn’t say.
He stares at you for a while, but you can’t read the expression that’s settled on his face. Before you can ask about it though, Armin and Ymir have caught up with the two of you.
Eren might've previously declared no more alcohol, he still buys you a few more at the last bar you four mingle to. The night carries on in a blur, filled with more dancing and nonsensical conversations and giggling. It’s only when the bars close their doors at two in the morning that you all decide it’s time to hang it up for the night.
After you see Ymir off, the three of you head home, grateful for the easy access of third-party drivers in the middle of the night in a college town. Armin heads straight for bed, knocking out from pure exhaustion.
Eren makes a beeline for the fridge, finally caving in to the late night craving that weed usually brings when he smokes. He searches for the first thing he can eat easily when you wander into the kitchen, laughing profusely. You’re absolutely hammered, delirious almost. He finds it fucking hilarious, the way you mumble to yourself incoherently, eyes completely unfocused.
“You should drink some water, future you will thank you for it.” Eren says, pulling out a container of ice cream.
“That’s a problem for future me, present me finds water boring,” you slur out, leaning your elbows on the counter next to him. Realization spreads across your face as you see him dive straight into the ice cream container with a spoon, “Hey, wait! That’s my ice cream! At least ask first!”
“You always eat my stuff!” Eren laughs, clutching the ice cream to his chest when you try to reach for it.
“Get a bowl or something, I don’t want your germs on my shit!” You huff, attempting to pry it out of his hands.
“You used my vape earlier, what’s the difference?!”
“Give it!”
“I’m gonna eat it all if you keep trying to take it away,” he grumbles, raising a spoonful up to his face tauntingly.
“ Eren! ” You manage to steal a bite of the ice cream from the spoon that’s merely inches from his mouth, leaning against his chest. Though, a little of the cream spills down the corner of your mouth, “My ice cream, jerk.”
You shoot him a victorious smirk, but the amusement on his face has melted into something else entirely. His eyes are trained on your lips as you lick the ice cream off, completely distracted and unable to even bother responding to what you said.
“Eren…?” You tilt your head, voice barely above a whisper.
He shouldn’t do it. He knows that. He’s faded, you’re drunk. Neither of you are coherent enough to make a rational decision. But the way your tongue moved, the playful look in your eye, the fucking smirk on your face as you licked your lips, it's attractive.
You were flirting with him the whole night, granted he knows it’s platonic. Always has been. But tonight, you were a little more adventurous than usual, calling him hot, staring at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.
And so, like a fucking idiot, he kisses you.
But you’re not protesting, you’re even pulling him in more, deepening the kiss. He leaves the ice cream on the counter, completely abandoning it as he cups your face, turning his head to get a better angle on you. When a faint moan leaves your mouth in response, he pushes you against the counter with a grunt. He can’t help himself. And neither can you, apparently, crashing right into him. His nerves wash away and are replaced with the rush of adrenaline that fills him as he grinds against you haphazardly.
You’re both sloppy, mouths clashing in a drunken attempt to pull each other impossibly closer than you already are. Eren grips your hips, easily lifting you up to sit you on the counter as he pushes himself between your legs. You’re grabbing at the front of his shirt, mind completely hazy as his mouth moves down the span of your neck. You spend only a second questioning your decisions only for it to be shoved to the back of your mind as Eren breathes hotly against you, fingers digging into the skin on your waist harshly, as if he’s restraining himself.
But Eren’s inhibitions are slowly melting away, it’s near impossible to keep himself composed at all with the noises you’re making, with the tugs on his hair as he nips at your collarbone. His fingertips crawl under the hem of your shirt, tracing up the length of your sides and venturing towards your bra. He makes a note of how soft your skin is, how hot it is under his hands, and just slightly covered in a sheet of sweat from all of the dancing throughout the night. He notes the way you pant out his name breathlessly when he grazes along a sensitive part of your skin, storing these intimate details of you to keep locked away in his mind.
He’s always been attracted to you, enjoying the banter and silly quips that you always direct at him for seemingly no reason other than to fuck with him. But there’s always been that unspoken rule, being roommates. Don’t fuck your roommate. It’ll get messy. There's too much that can go wrong and too many situations in which things could get awkward. But he can’t bring himself to care right now, completely faded from smoking way too much after downing who knows how many shots over the last few hours.
Eren’s squeezing at your breasts eagerly, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of your tits filling his hands as he’s kissing the top of them. You let out another groan, tilting your head back and wrapping your legs around his waist. You grind yourself against his crotch, a gracious moan filling your ears in response. You’re hardly breathing now, heat drowning out all of your senses and already leaving you a heaving mess.
It’s wrong. This is so wrong. So why does it feel so good?
“Is everything okay? I heard yelling - Oh!”
Armin’s tentative voice rings through your ears, especially when he yells out in surprise at the scene before him. You two, practically latched onto each other with your shirt halfway above your chest. Armin stands there for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights, before immediately scurrying off back to his room muttering an apology.
His door slams shut, leaving you two to be ripped back into reality from the heat of the last five or ten minutes. And just like that, all of those thoughts that were drowned out from arousal spring back in full force at the realization of your positions.
Eren’s still staring off at the spot where Armin stood, as if he was still there. He’s too afraid to look back at you, too afraid to acknowledge that you two may have just fucked up the entire dynamic of your friendship.
The sound of you clearing your throat forces him to turn around though. Your legs have unwrapped themselves from his waist, and you’re pulling your shirt back down, face colored with embarrassment and shame.
“Shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair as he chews the inside of his cheek, “I’m sorry.”
“Um…” You’re at an utter loss for words, how do you recover from this? You look everywhere but Eren, searching for some excuse in which you can dip out from the situation, “It’s late, I’m- I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Right…” Eren trails off, backing away as you slink off towards your room hurriedly.
You have a hard time sleeping that night, all of the alcohol and weed in your system fading as you replay those brief heated moments through your mind, regret with a tinge of arousal flooding through your veins.