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Levi never wanted to get married.
He doesn’t like promises cast in expensive metals, cake that costs more than his paycheck, suits so fitted that they seem fit for a casket.
“Smile!” The photographer is deafening as Levi sits awkwardly in the emptyimg reception hall, scowling at the white tablecloth. He thought this would be a quiet place to think.
“It’s your wedding day, the happiest day of your life!”
Snap, snap, snap.
He resists the urge to curse.
“I am happy.” He turns away from the camera and looks toward the distant lake. “I just don’t smile much.”
The photographer is about to say something else until a person passes by with light footsteps and laughter.
“He’s just cranky.” Isabel appears in the doorway and tugs the photographer into the hallway. “Come upstairs. His mother is ready and she looks beautiful.”
The footsteps recede and Levi blows air between his teeth, desperately wanting a cigarette for the first time in a long time; he scowls at the floor now instead of the table.
All things considered, the venue is beautiful—a historic house converted into an opulent bed and breakfast with French doors that open onto a lakeside view—elegant and tasteful.
Levi has no idea what he’s doing here.
“I like the breeze.”
Erwin laughs softly, sinking his fork into one of the pieces of cake and offering it to Levi.
“You’re not feeding me fucking cake.” But he’d accepted the bite anyway, then paused, chewing. There was a moment of silence, until he conceded defeat. “Okay, it’s good.”
“Don’t you like the breeze?” Erwin had asked, inhaling the scent of fresh water. “It smells like a
new season.”
“Levi.”
Levi turns sharply when he hears his mother’s voice. Kuchel looks radiant, and for one surreal moment, he wonders what she would have looked like on her own wedding day if she’d ever had one. He knows she never did.
“Don’t I look nice?”
“Yeah,” he grunts with a slight shrug. But then he glances down again. “You do look nice. Thank you for coming.”
Isabel is standing behind her, hands clasped as if she’s about to play flower girl. Levi scowls at her in annoyance; she immediately scurries away and he shakes his head.
“Where’s Erwin?” Kuchel asks, walking forward to pull out a richly upholstered chair and settle next to Levi, placing her purse on the table. The hall is prepared for guests who will sit here after the ceremony, shining silverware laid out on white linen napkins.
“Upstairs, I think.” He flexes his knuckles, staring down at his hands now rather than his mother. “He’s probably posing for the photographer and flexing his muscles or something.”
Kuchel laughs softly and reaches out to touch Levi’s shoulder; it’s hesitant, new, since they’ve gotten to know each other again in the past year, but he allows it.
“He doesn’t seem like the vain type.”
Levi snorts, sighing. “He’s not.”
“You look nice, too,” she says, smiling even as his eyes narrow at the compliment. “Gray suits
you. It always has.”
“I look like I’m going to a fucking funeral.”
Kuchel gently taps his shoulder, motherly and rebuking, and he allows that, too. She’s a rather unexpectedly gentle person despite the general disposition of the Ackerman clan.
“Kenny didn’t make parole?”
She doesn’t respond right away but her eyes dart toward the beaded clutch bag sitting innocently on the table. “He wrote me a letter. ”
“I don’t want it.”
She nods once, but clears her throat. “He did make parole. He said he’d show up but I don’t think he will. Who knows what he’s up to these days…”
Levi hesitates, exhaling silently before turning to face her. He knows their eyes are the same color—gray, to match his funeral suit—a color Erwin had mentioned when they looked for wedding attire.
They both jolt as a loathsomely familiar voice exclaims: “The groom and mother!” What a lovely scene. Smile?”
Kuchel is much better at posing as a happy family than Levi, and does as asked, putting a small hand on Levi’s shoulder. It’s awkward, and he can’t help the way his shoulders stiffen.
“Perfect!” Snap, snap. “Your friends and family will love these.”
The photographer mercifully disappears and they just sit there, caught in stiff silence.
The French doors that lead out onto the back lawn suddenly swing open and the room fills with fresh air. “Is that guy serious?” Farlan materializes in the doorway, rolling his eyes. “Get a life.”
His sheer exasperation makes Kuchel laugh softly, and then Levi smiles a little, too. Thank god for fucking Farlan.
“I need air.”
He follows Farlan out toward the lake, bypassing the wedding aisle that’s been set up outside with rows of chairs and a trellis wound with white roses.
“I don’t want flowers, okay?”
It’s raining, and Levi is upset.
“Okay.” Erwin’s arms around him are strong and resolute. “No flowers.”
Levi growls but he allows the embrace, staring out into their backyard. He feels foolish, needlessly angry.
“Isn’t this enough? Just a shitty, muddy backyard?”
“This lake is something else,” Farlan marvels as he lights up a cigarette, darting a glance back at the venue as if he’s a truant schoolboy, inhaling nonchalantly as he looks out over the water
“Give me one of those,” Levi grunts, staring at the pack.
“Fuck, no,” Farlan grunts back, rolling his eyes. “You quit. Stop being a juvenile delinquent. You’re about to be a married man.”
They look at each other, and then Farlan laughs as he hands Levi a cigarette. “One more.”
“One more,” Levi echoes.
They smoke together next to the lake. It’s better than any stupid bridegroom’s speech could ever be.
“You want to hear my speech?” Farlan asks.
“Shut up.”
Farlan laughs until Isabel finds them and admonishes them for smoking, tugging at Levi’s sleeve.
“They need you for pictures!” She smiles radiantly, excited and glowing in the same type of silvery dress that Levi’s mother is wearing. They look more like brides than anyone else; but they both love the dresses, so he allows it. He doesn’t even have the heart to tell her he’s reached his limit for pictures.
He follows her up the embankment, wishing suddenly he had gum—isn’t he supposed to kiss Erwin after they recite their vows?—and hopes desperately the photographer has found someone else to torture.
“The perfect charcoal suit for this lush backdrop!” the photographer exclaims.
Kuchel is there, immediately sniffing the air with a frown as Levi gets closer. He can sense her disapproval and looks at the ground.
Weddings are supposed to be clean. They’re for regular people who smile for pictures and obey the tradition of not seeing the bride or groom before the vows. Weddings are for people who can wear rings without feeling like they stole them, who can wear a fitted suit that looks perfect against a lake in an expensive venue and not feel like they’re going into a coffin instead.
“Stand there, arm around the mother of the groom!” Snap, snap.
“I thought you quit,” she remarks quietly when the photographer is busy with Isabel, exchanging enthusiastic anecdotes about weddings and photography.
“I did,” he says simply.
“Do you smoke?”
Erwin is propped up against the headboard, looking inordinately pleased with himself and apparently ready for a post-coital smoke. And really, Levi can’t blame him, since the orgasm is still tingling through every part of his body. Erwin Smith knows what he’s doing in bed.
“Yeah,” Levi replies as he leans down to fish out a cigarette from his pants, hastily discarded as they’d stumbled into the house. He hands it over to Erwin with a lighter, who flicks it to his lips elegantly, flame licking the end.
“Not good for you, you know,” he remarks, inhaling, before leaning down to put it between Levi’s lips where it belongs.
“So I hear,” Levi retorts, smoking the entire thing out of spite. “Not like I do anything that’s good for me, so whatever.”
“Was this not good?” Erwin asks, and there’s something about how his smile is smug, but also warm, that makes Levi just stare at him.
They don’t sleep that night, and in the morning, Erwin makes him tea and tells him to quit smoking because it really will give him cancer.
And Levi finds out that Erwin is actually sort of a dork who spends all his free time reading and barely ever smokes despite being very good at projecting the persona appropriate for the time and place.
But a week goes by, then a month, and Erwin tells Levi he likes him far too much to try and be anything but himself; but that if he likes Erwin, the non-smoking, home-owning, rather boring rarely-does-one-night-stands despite his confidence, then Erwin would really like to get to know him.
And Levi says yes, much to his own surprise.
“So, the brat really is gettin’ hitched.”
Both Levi and Kuchel swing around in surprise at the familiar voice, and there stands Kenny, staring at them from the doorway.
“Kenny,” Kuchel warns, narrowing her eyes, “what are you doing here?”
“I ain’t here to make a scene,” he replies irritably as he stares at his sister, unimpressed. Levi has to admit that her scowl is as formidable as Kenny’s.
Nonetheless, he turns to Levi, taking in the suit and raising an eyebrow. “I think that suit’s worth more than your skin, kid.”
“Maybe,” Levi replies, refusing to react. He stares Kenny down, and Kenny stares back.
But it’s a strange stare; the stare of someone who sheltered but also abandoned him, who Levi never wanted to show up to his wholesome, normal wedding, with wholesome, normal Erwin Smith.
“She takin’ your last name?” Kenny laughs after a minute, taking two steps forward to look out over the lake warily. His eyes dart around the manicured lawn and pristinely tended flowerbeds, taking it all in. “Nice place. I’ll have to help myself to one of those place settings on my way out. Definitely real silver. Maybe a fruit bowl, too.”
“He,” Levi interjects flatly. Levi could give two shits whether his criminal uncle swipes a place setting from his wedding but he’s not going to hide his life. He never has.
That earns Kenny’s attention, and he cocks his head to the side, obviously surprised. “Is he taking your last name?” he finally asks. The question is so unexpected, Levi actually snaps his mouth shut. They just stand there for a moment in tense silence, until he chuckles with a shrug. “Guess that runs in the family. Sorry, kid.”
And just like that, he turns in the other direction and saunters out the door. “Congrats,” Levi thinks he hears, but it could just be the wind.
“What the fuck was that?” he murmurs to himself, staring at the ground, his heart pounding.
Adrenaline roars through his body and he tries to catch his breath.
“Levi?” Kuchel’s voice is worried as she taps his shoulder. “Baby?”
“Don’t call me that.”
She recoils immediately, murmuring an apology, and Levi takes a deep breath in.
“You want to go see a movie? Can I say ‘baby’ at the end just to be an asshole?” Erwin’s voice is teasing and light, but Levi cringes, his shoulders going tense.
“Don’t call me that.”
There’s a pause, and Levi scrubs at the dishes he’s in the middle of doing viciously.
“I’m sorry.” The apology is sincere, and Levi turns his head slightly to look at Erwin. “I won’t say it again.”
He’s standing in the corner of the kitchen, his expression openly surprised since he’d been reading the newspaper; Levi immediately feels stupid.
He sighs heavily, turning to face Erwin still wearing dish gloves. “I just hate that shit,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “And...”
His mother used to say it, when he was very young, before she left.
“You don’t have to explain.” Erwin lays the newspaper on the table and crosses the kitchen. “I won’t say it again.”
There’s no pity, nothing except sincerity in Erwin’s voice.
“Thanks,” Levi grunts, turning around abruptly as he attacks the dishes.
Erwin’s presence is still hovering there, and then he presses up against Levi’s back, gentle and undemanding.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, two large hands landing on Levi’s shoulders.
“I’m doing dishes,” Levi replies flatly.
“How about here?” Erwin murmurs, bending to kiss Levi’s neck. Soft blond hair brushes Levi’s ear, and he shivers slightly, forgetting about the running water.
“That’s okay,” Levi breathes.
Erwin’s lips find his neck, hair, temples. The tap is slammed off and Levi can’t stop his
heart: please stay, stay, stay.
“It’s time!”
Isabel is frighteningly energetic as she bounds up to Kuchel and Levi, ending the tense moment, grinning. “It’s time to start receiving the guests inside!”
The guest list isn’t long.
There’s Hanji, donning a tuxedo that’s potentially more formal than Levi’s suit, tugging along Moblit, their best-friend-no-one-knows-what-else with them.
Then there’s Mike and Nanaba, Erwin’s friends from college. Back then, they were both wary of Erwin’s new taciturn friend.
Now, Mike brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles broadly when he sees Levi. “Congrats,” he says simply. “Lake smells good this time of year. Is that vanilla cake?”
Levi feels at ease for the first time.
Nanaba rolls her eyes good-naturedly, but pulls Mike along, smiling.
A few more of their friends pass and he can feel Kuchel’s surprised eyes on him as he greets each one: Nile, Petra, Eld, Oluo, Gunther.
“I didn’t know you had so many friends,” she remarks quietly.
He shrugs. “They’re good people.”
“Hello again!” comes the voice that Levi has quickly learned to hate. The photographer. “Mom, it’s time for your baby to walk down the aisle!”
Snap, snap. “Great candids!”
“Levi!” Kuchel says, caught up in the photographer’s excitement. “I’ll go, just like he says. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.” Her voice is teary now, and Levi hates it, hates all of this more than fucking dishes or pet names or any other thing that is not him.
“See you on the other side!” Farlan says as he jogs past.
“I’ll see you down there!” Isabel echoes, following.
The photographer wanders out into the hallway, snapping pictures of what can only be Erwin’s friends or other people Levi doesn’t know, and he collapses into a chair.
He doesn’t want to be here. He hates the lake, hates the fact that he smells like tobacco, that Kenny came here, that his mother calls him names she doesn’t deserve to, that Erwin has had to make concession after concession to love him.
The tie around his neck is too tight.
He struggles with normally deft fingers that now feel weak to pull it off, undo the knot. He has to get out of here, leave, escape; there might be tears in his eyes, but he’s not sure.
“What are you doing?” The photographer is standing in the doorway, sounding absolutely riveted, the first time he’s paid actual attention to Levi’s responses to his question.
There’s a creak in the chair next to Levi, and he pauses, feeling like an idiot as he registers that there are actual tears on his cheeks.
He looks down, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he says, forcing his voice to be steady. “Just nerves.”
It’s an excuse, so he can leave.
But unexpectedly there are lips pressed to his forehead, an achingly familiar scent of shampoo, and words: “I’m sorry if this is too much.”
Levi clings onto him like an octopus, totally out of character, but necessary; and Erwin doesn’t question it, pulls him close.
“How lovely!” The photographer is about to snap again, but Erwin calls him off like he does when needed.
“Wait in the other room, please.”
There’s a quick shuffling of feet and then the French doors close quietly. Erwin rubs his hand up and down Levi’s back reassuringly, then up into his hair.
“I didn’t want to ruin it,” Levi says softly, but then laughs a little.
“I’ve never known you to care otherwise,” Erwin replies, his thumb stroking over Levi’s cheekbone where tear tracks probably are still visible.
“This is different.”
“Do you want to marry me?” Erwin’s voice is soft, but he doesn’t sound sad or pitying; just honest.
Erwin is the only man Levi can be honest with.
“I do want to marry you,” Levi replies.
“Then why are you taking off your tie?”
“I feel like I’m suffocating.”
Erwin pulls him close, fingers stroking through his hair. “Let’s just sit here a while then.”
“I hate getting dressed up,” Levi spits venomously, throwing down the third tie he’s tried on to the bed. “Why am I doing this?”
“Because,” Erwin says, lounging on the bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking over the top of the book he’s been reading as he watches Levi, “you said you wanted to look nice for your students’ graduation.”
Levi has been teaching a self-defense class at the local community center. Even though his background could probably lead him into a field where he’d adopt a fake name and visit many foreign countries, he likes the teaching and civilian lifestyle.
More to the point: he likes Erwin.
“I hate ties.”
Erwin stands, surveying Levi’s semi-formal attire, and stops at his throat. “I know,” he says, reaching into his top drawer where the other ties had come from Levi rejected. “Wear this.”
“A cravat?” Levi had scowled. “Are you fucking serious?”
Nonetheless, It became Levi’s permanent go-to formalwear.
“I know you hate ties,” Erwin’s voice is gentle when he finally speaks. “Why aren’t you wearing a cravat?”
“I wear it every time we have to go somewhere formal,” Levi replies, shrugging. “I’m already fucking this up.”
Erwin pulls him closer, and Levi relaxes as he feels a hand smoothing down his back tenderly. “You’re not. You’re here.”
“You think I wouldn’t be here?”
“Not that,” Erwin replies, rubbing his cheek against Levi’s hair. “I just feel lucky.”
“That’s…” Well, Levi doesn’t quite know what to say about that.
“You want to leave? Just elope?” Erwin asks. Levi knows he’s completely serious and he re-focuses to take Erwin in.
He’s wearing a blue suit that sets off his eyes and his hair is coiffed back from his face; he’s even wearing a flower in his lapel, and his eyes are soft as he meets Levi’s.
“I love you,” he says frankly. “Since you said yes, I hope you love me too.”
Levi raises himself on his toes to press their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “Of course I do, you jackass,” he murmurs, reaching up to squeeze Erwin’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Erwin says, his voice still quiet, “then let me put your tie back on. We’ll go through the motions, say the vows, and then, there’ll be cake. That’s it.”
“There are flowers on the trellis,” Levi blurts out, feeling absolutely ridiculous, but somehow it feels acceptable to say it to Erwin.
“I took them down.”
“What?”
Erwin kisses Levi’s head again, his voice still soft. “I know you said you didn’t want flowers, so I took them down. I saw them, too, when you were smoking with Farlan.”
“You saw me?” he asks, suddenly surprised, then regretful. “I did quit.”
“I know.”
“So you ripped a bunch of flowers off a trellis?”
Erwin chuckles. “Yes.”
Suddenly, there are footsteps pounding down the stairway and Isabel appears; she’s clearly not expecting to see Levi clutching Erwin, his face red from tears, and she freezes. “Um, there’s music, and…”
“Thank you, Isabel,” Erwin says smoothly, and Levi can hear the smile in his voice. It’s pleasant and smooth, and Levi relaxes when he hears it. “I’m just helping Levi with his tie.”
“Okay,” she murmurs uncertainly, trailing off, but then turns away when Levi jerks his head at her in the universal movement of ‘get out.’
“I like your hair this way.”
Erwin looks over in surprise as he’s lathering his hair, Levi standing in front of him, enjoying the hot water they’re sharing.
“What?”
“I like your hair like this,” Levi repeats, reaching up to run his fingers through the blond hair.
Erwin isn’t often anything except put together outside of their bedroom.
“Soapy?” Erwin chuckles as Levi starts to lather it for him. He bends a little to compensate for their difference in height.
“No,” Levi snorts. “Messy.”
Erwin looks amused, the corner of his mouth raising. “Am I too clean for your liking?”
Levi rolls his eyes. “No. You’re just always so...” he frowns mildly, looking for a word that describes his thoughts. “You’re always buttoned-up,” he finally settles on. “Inside a suit. Maybe just inside yourself.”
The corner of Erwin’s mouth falls. He looks serious now as he catches Levi’s hands, pulling them out of his hair even as soap drips into his eyes.
“You’re right,” he agrees. “I don’t let many people in.” He doesn’t let go, clasping their hands together.
The shower pounds down and the soap and water rinse down the drain. Somehow, it seems like the conversation could just as easily do the same; but Levi doesn’t want that.
So he reaches up and grasps the back of Erwin’s neck tightly; not the soft, tender touch of a lover.
Erwin bends into the brute force. Their lips meet but for some reason, this is tender. It’s almost uncomfortable. Levi isn’t used to soft touches, tender kisses, sweet nothings. Not a single moment with Erwin is something he’d describe as a “nothing,” but sometimes it’s simple. It just is. It is as nothing ever has been.
“Sorry,” Erwin whispers as the kiss breaks, “but I’m in love with you.” He’s squinting as he says it, the shampoo stinging his eyes and Levi’s stinging for another reason.
Their shared shower ends and they towel off in silence. Erwin stands in front of the mirror and combs his hair back. Levi clears his throat, slinging his towel around his shoulders and peering back at Erwin’s reflection in the mirror.
“I love you too.” He averts his eyes, staring at the wall before he can watch Erwin’s reaction. “You know, just in case that wasn’t clear.”
“Marry me.”
Levi continues to stare at the same spot on the wall. “Why?”
“Because I want to. Do you want to?”
“You really like traditional shit, huh?”
“You like to mess up my hair and I like my hair neat,” Erwin retorts in kind, turning on his heel unexpectedly and embracing Levi. He stares down at him, and Levi’s knees go a little weak in that way he hates but also kind of loves. “Quid pro quo. Now answer the question.”
“Yeah,” Levi replies, pushing his face against Erwin’s bare chest, “okay. I’ll marry you, you weirdo.”
There’s a chuckle, then fingers smoothing through Levi’s hair.
It’s unbearably tender; but Levi bears it, loves it.
“I do love you,” he blurts out. “I have for a long time.”
Erwin’s throat bobs hard even as he retains that perfectly serene, calm expression Levi is so used to.
And then he undoes his own tie, locking eyes with Levi, pulling it loose. Before he can set it aside, though, Levi catches it in his hand. The silk is warm from Erwin’s neck.
“If we’re both going to the gallows,” he whispers, his lips twitching in a macabre smile, “I’d rather wear your noose than mine.”
Erwin raises an eyebrow, but then the corner of his mouth upturns. He slides his blue tie around Levi’s neck properly, knotting it at the throat and fastening the collar buttons to secure it.
“Do you want me to wear a cravat?” he asks, smoothing down Levi’s shirt gently.
“I’m not that much of a sadist.” Levi finally feels like smiling, so he does. It’s because Erwin is there with his loose collar and unkempt hair. Levi realizes right then that Erwin’s hair only looks out of order if he chooses it, running fingers through it, tired and unsure of what to do.
So Levi reaches up to smooth Erwin’s hair back, tidying it.
“You’re the only one allowed to do that,” he says softly, catching Levi’s fingers between his own. “Off to the gallows we go, then?”
Levi finds his footing, brushing the wrinkles out of his charcoal suit and gently feeling the shape of the knot at his throat. He can breathe.
“Yeah,” Levi replies. “Let’s go face the fire.”
Erwin nods and straightens his loose collar. They’re in this together.
Always together.