Chapter Text
Armin sat hunched over a coffee table with a somber expression, mumbling under his breath as he scribbled notes furiously along sheets of paper. His left hand brushed against the intricacies of a broken pocket watch the blonde had been intending to fix. He glanced at the metal framework briefly, rolling his pen between his fingers. He was pressed against Jean’s side, he could feel the taller man’s eyes boring into his work from where he watched from over Armin's shoulder with curious eyes.
It was late, it was a wonder he was still awake. The anxious feelings stirred by the papers and work in front of him were the only thing keeping him awake. The room was softly lit by three dim lamps and a stretch of bleeding moonlight from a low window, mixing with the comfortable orange glow of the artificial light. It mixed over the papers beneath Armin's hands, illuminating the penmarks and scarred etching into the documents. There was a soft humming that came from the vents marked high in the room's corners, they mostly went unheard over the low music that played from a phonograph and the smooth rumble of waves against the side of the docked boat.
Jean kept glancing back between the work on the table and the teacup in his hands, eyes quick and averting. Armin knew he was trying his best to avoid being roped into actually doing their job as ambassadors. But the tea must be cold by now, their cups had been poured by Reiner an hour ago. Jean hated tea, Armin didn't understand why he asked for a cup to begin with. The taller man was distractedly shifting in his spot on the couch, casually swirling the ever-cooling liquid at the bottom of the cup, eyes darting around the room.
Armin rested his pen on the documents, abandoning his work. A small group of former soldiers sat around the living area, too engrossed in their own boredom to say much of anything to each other, content with their own devices. Besides Jean, who was still trying to peek over Armin’s shoulder to see what he was writing.
Reiner sat in front of a projector that faced the only empty wall in the room, a large white sheet hung up with mismatched pins. He was sifting through a box of slides next to him, switching them in and out of the projector seemingly at random while jotting down notes and the like in a small notepad he had resting on his knee. It wasn't dark enough in the room with the lamps and lights that the man had to lean forwards to see the wisps and fragments of photos on the tarp. Pieck was sprawled on the other couch across from Jean and Armin, reading a newspaper she held loosely in her hands. The ex-shifter looked bored, and didn’t seem to be actually reading the inked letters, occasionally reaching next to her to mess with the blonde who was fiddling with the projector. Reiner would every so often reach back to slap Pieck hand away from his hair, no real malice behind his attacks. The cart titan never took the hint and continued to flick a stray strand of blond hair that stuck up near the back of his head.
It was a rather open living space, with two couches facing each other only separated by a small wooden coffee table Connie had insisted they needed. He told the group that decorating their space would make it feel more like home, as such, every corner was filled. Books spilled out of throwaway shelves and stacked atop various stools and chairs collected by those who brought them home. The old couch Jean and Reiner had dragged onto the ship, a broken recliner Connie insisted they could fix and two bean bag chairs held together by numerous odd path jobs.
The coffee table in front of Armin had two teacups on it, neither of which using the coasters Pieck bought four days prior at the newly arisen local market. Various magazines, newspaper clippings and loose notes were spread across the small table, hiding the old varnished wood from prying eyes. An empty cup on a heavy book filled with various bookmarks and dog-eared corners rested in front of where he was staring at the old hollowed out pocket watch next to his unfinished work.
Their only working phonograph sat precariously atop a stack of books and journals of various colors and sizes, and the other placed on the floor next to it, the horn was nowhere to be found and there was a small bin of loose parts that rested on top of the turner. Armin had insisted on keeping it, repeatedly telling the group he could fix it. It had been sitting in the room for nearly six months. An overflowing bucket of mismatched spoons sat next to the phonographs. It was the only one of Connie's “collections” that had withstood the latest cleaning spree. Armin had tried moving the bin into the kitchen on a multitude of different occasions, but it always ended back in the living room.
An old piano was pressed against the far corner, although the only one who ever used it was Annie. Connie tried to mess with it, wanting to learn how she made the out-of-tune ivory keys sound like a song, but grew bored after Annie tried to explain to the circle of fifths.
The walls were no exception to the maximalism, posters from movies and plays they had seen were pinned sporadically around. Large maps of the world took up most of the room, smaller less intricate maps of the various countries and regions they’d been to encircled the larger ones. Art hung in frames, portraits and drawings scattered around the maps and posters. Some were painted, others merely graphite. It seemed as though Jean had drawn everyone they used to know. (Although Ymir’s portrait was safely tucked away with a crumpled letter in a certain queens bedside dresser)
Armin had become well aware of the adherent lack of gloomy blonde over the course of the boring evening. A postman had dropped off a letter with Annie’s name on it early this morning, the return address had been from Paradis, a place near the capitol. The former titan shifter hadn’t left her room since she opened the letter, it was troublesome to say the least.
He assumed the letter was from Hitch, the MP always wrote to Annie; Annie never wrote back. It was a wonder Hitch kept writing to her at all, although Annie had given the MP plenty of practice with having a conversation with someone who never responded.
Armin usually took it upon himself to write back to the women, telling her everything they’ve been up to and making sure she knows Annie’s okay. Jean and Reiner usually sent photos and small water paintings with the letters, while Pieck and Connie would throw some random trinket they found laying around in a box into the mix. More often than not, the single letter Armin was sending to the MP turned into a care package for their friends left on the island.
Distant clicking filled the room, a pair of heavy footsteps hitting the metal floor of the hallways. It was loud enough to draw Armin’s attention away from his surveillance. Jean turned his eyes as well, setting down his already cold cup of tea on the messy coffee table. Armin made a mental note to remind himself to clean later.
Connie paraded through the open door with a crate lodged between his arms. His gait was heavy as his shoes tapped against the carpeted floors, walking behind the couches and towards their small kitchenette. He held his buzzed head high, appearing as though he had won a prize of some kind.
Glass clinked against glass, the metal table that separated the living room and kitchen giving a chilling creak under the weight of the wooden crate, earning the attention of the others in the room.
“Whatcha got, Springer?” Pieck's dark disheveled hair appeared over the back of the suede couch, downturned sullen eyes brimming with curiosity at the man sifting through glass bottles of various shapes and sizes.
“Anything good?” Reiner stood up from his position behind the projector. He stretched his hands above his head with a short grunt before making his way towards Connie, who had yet to lift his gaze from whatever gauged his interest.
Armin’s eyes were on Connie as he rifled through the contents of the time pressed wooden boards, who was seemingly unbothered by his friends' questioning. Whatever his friend had brought into the kitchen worried him. Armin had wanted to finish with his work before they left for Paradis tomorrow, but it was starting to look like chaos was about to unfold.
Jean took the opportunity to stand up and stretch as well, focus now trained towards the table Connie and Reiner stood around. He tousled Armin’s hair before walking past him and towards the others. Armin was quick to follow, abandoning his work and the ticking pocket watch, not wanting to feel left out.
Connie cackled loudly as he pulled a large bottle of alcohol out of the crate. “Bada boom! Jackpot!”
“This old guy gave me shit ton of alcohol.” Connie had already started explaining what was in the box by the time the others stood in front of the table. “I guess there’s some kind of prohibition thing going on in this town. Him and his buddies didn’t want to get caught with it so now it’s ours.”
Armin didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“And you think we want to get caught with it?” Reiner muttered, peering into the contents of the crate over Connie’s shoulder.
“We’re leaving tomorrow anyway, it'll be gone before we wake up.” The man with the overgrown buzz cut didn’t seem bothered, reaching back into the wooden box.
Armin, on the other hand, was skeptical. Scratching the side of his head as he looked at the label pasted to the side of the bottle. “This is a lot of alcohol Connie.” Armin wasn’t finished with his mock-up of the speech they had to present to Historia, he had no time to deal with drunk friends tonight.
“So what I’m hearing is we’re getting plastered tonight.” Pieck grinned, biting her bottom lip as she looked around the table.
“No.” Armin corrected, picking up one of the bottles Connie laid out on the counter to read the label. It was a cheap vodka, not exactly Armin’s drink of choice. “We can’t afford a hangover, we have work tomorrow.”
“Most of the day we’re going to be on the boat.” Reiner pointed out, “We just have to check in with Historia when we get there, which isn’t going to be until well past midnight.”
Pieck pointed towards the other warrior in agreement, “And the pardoning ceremony isn’t until Wednesday.”
“It’s an important enough event that we really shouldn’t be drinking.” Armin set the bottle back down, already trying to move back to his work on the coffee table.
“Oh come on,” Connie groaned childishly, wrapping his arm around Armin’s shoulders. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“We are quite literally trying to stop a war between worlds, it’s a pretty big deal.” Armin lifted Connie's wrist back over his head, shuffling away from his friend. He looked over towards the dark doorway that opened into bedroom hallways, where Annie was still holed up in her room. Maybe she could reason with them.
Reiner uncrossed his arms, letting out a deep rooted sigh as he scratched the back of his neck. “Armin’s got a point.”
“It’s Sunday.” Pieck rolled her eyes towards the taller man. “We have four days until the pardoning, and we’ve technically already been pardoned- this is just a public thing for the people. One night of drinking isn’t going to kill us.”
Connie nodded eagerly, still taking clinking glass bottles out of the crate. “Exactly. Historia already said we can come back anytime.”
“Under MP or Jeagerist supervision.” Reiner corrected. “What we did isn’t exactly a popular choice on the island.”
“The severity of this meeting isn’t up for debate. The rest of the world off Paradis is counting on us to reason with the Jeagerists.” Armin argued, slowly making his way back over to the living room, waving his arms around wildly. “We can’t afford a night off, we have to know what we’re going to say.”
“We tend to do our best work under pressure. What better pressure than a time crunch.” Jean added unhelpfully, sifting through the alcohol in front of him.
“We are trying to broker a peace treaty, if we mess this up it could very well be the next rumbling. We have to convince everyone of this treaty with everything we’ve got. Because the fate of the world is resting on our shoulders!” Armin spat out the words with as much venom as a wet napkin. He wasn’t mad or angry at his friends for the suggestions, just worried. And where the hell was Annie’s voice of reason when he needed it?
Armin threw his head forwards into his hands, letting out a loud groan of frustration. His glasses pushed into the edges of his eyes tightly, giving him a bigger headache. Maybe he did need a night off, alcohol sounded pretty damn good when they started talking about the peace treaty.
“Okay wow, slow down man.” Connie laughed dryly, putting his hands up in mock defense. “You’re even making me stressed, damn.”
“Good. You should be,” Armin removed his face from his hands, running his hands through his shoulder length blonde hair. “We should all be.”
He blew his bangs out of his eyes with a harsh breath. Mikasa had always cut his hair, it’s not as though he didn’t trust his friends to cut it, it was just Mikasa’s thing. They didn’t have many of those anymore, things that were just the two of them. Armin made another mental note to ask his friend to cut it when they got back to Shiganshina.
Jean smiled softly at Armin, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “Maybe we do need that night off after all. By the time we see Historia again, you’ll have grays Armin.”
Armin let out another heavy sigh. A night of drinking with his friends didn’t sound like a horrible idea, although things tended to get out of hand rather quickly.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?”
Annie’s voice cut through the commotion of the sparsely lit living space. She was leaned against the doorway leading into the hall, hair laying loose around her shoulders and eyes looking heavy with ink stained bags. Whatever had been in that letter didn’t look like it treated Annie kindly.
She fiddled with the thin chain around her neck, her silver thorny ring hanging on the metal strand. Her knuckles looked bruised and busted, bandages tightly wrapped around her wrists and hands in a half-assed attempt to cover whatever training she had done to cool off.
“We’ve been working hard lately, I think we all could use the break.” Pieck seemed unbothered by the amount of alcohol Connie had procured seemingly out of nowhere, pushing herself up to sit on the counter.
Armin pulled his glasses away from his face, rubbing his eyes forcefully, he recalled Hange doing the exact same thing. Ignoring the impending deja vu, Armin turned his attention back to Jean, who had grabbed an armful of various mugs and glasses from the cabinet. “We’ve done nothing all day.”
“Not true.” Jean pointed out, ignoring his friend to watch Reiner pick up and read the label on one the bottles Connie set down. “You fixed a pocket watch.”
Technically he didn’t fix the pocket watch. It wasn’t broken, Armin had pulled it apart and put it back together twice to distract himself from doing any actual work. The only thing “broken” about it was the missing hinge.
“That sounds like a whole lot of nothing to me.” Annie muttered, pulling herself off the doorframe and meandering towards where Armin stood in the living room.
Pieck pulled the bottle out of Reiner’s hands, bringing it close to her face. “Where the hell did you find this stuff anyway?”
“I told you,” Connie sounded annoyed to be explaining it again. “Some old dude pulled me into an alley and told me to take it.”
Jean tightened his lips together, clicking his tongue. “That’s suspicious.”
“It’s probably poisoned.” Annie grumbled, walking past the blonde man. Armin shot the woman with a concerned look that went widely ignored.
“He seemed like a nice guy.” Connie defended earnestly.
Reiner sighed. “It’s definitely poisoned.”
“Hand me that, please and thank you.” Pieck spoke in a half sing-songy voice as she motioned for one of the shot glasses that were placed in front of Jean.
Jean passed the glass over the table, continuing. “That’s bullshit. Did you buy all of this in town today?”
“With what money?” Armin mumbled, confused as he cautiously watched Connie pull more alcohol out of the crate. Maybe an old man had given Connie the alcohol, although it was highly unlikely. But he supposed weirder things have happened to their friend group.
Pieck sniffed from the top of a bottle she had just opened, inhaling deeply. “Doesn’t smell like poison.”
“How do you know what poison smells like?” Connie questioned, cocking his head to the side.
Pieck shrugged half-heartedly. “Oh y’know.” Armin didn’t think he knew, he would have also appreciated an actual answer.
Annie scoffed, crossing her arms as she rested her head against Reiner, leaning in between the other two warriors to get a better view of the contents on the table. “Are we actually drinking this? Don’t we have shit to do tomorrow.”
“You missed that conversation.” Reiner put a hand on the blonde's shoulder.
“I mean you don’t have to drink anything.” Connie passed a bottle to Jean, wanting him to open it.
“We don’t leave until tomorrow morning,” Pieck pointed out, already pouring herself a drink. “Let’s live a little.” Armin didn’t trust how full she poured the tiny glass, half expecting the alcohol to spill over the rim.
Annie blinked slowly, standing on her tiptoes to peek her head over Pieck’s shoulder, peering at the alcohol in her hands. “I feel like we’ve lived too much already.”
The dark haired warrior hit the bottom of the glass off the table before emptying it without much of an afterthought. Annie and Jean both rolled their eyes as Pieck licked her lips, smacking them together for dramatic effect. “It’s not bad, strong, but not bad.” She handed the shot glass back to Jean. “I don’t think it’s poisoned.”
Armin sighed before grabbing a glass of his own. If they were going to drink tonight, he definitely wasn’t going to be the one that played babysitter. Annie could handle it, she never drank with them. Armin smiled to himself at the thought of Annie trying to corral their group of delinquents around the ship before swiftly swallowing the alcohol in his glass. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he had anticipated.
Jean grunted as he reached into the crate, grabbing the neck of the first bottle his hand touched. “You sure you didn’t steal this?”
“Positive.” Connie didn’t bother glaring at the taller man, instead taking another wax tipped bottle out of the crate. “Oohhh wine!”
Reiner’s eyes lit up, looking contemplative as Connie poured Jean a hefty glass of the red wine he pulled from the box.
“You wanna sip?” Jean spoke after a quick drink, motioning the glass vaguely towards the Armored Titan.
He nodded, slipping the drink out of Jean’s hands and pulling the rim to his lips. “It’s good.” Reiner handed it back to his friend, grabbing the wax sealed bottle as he poured a glass for himself.
“Damn straight.” Connie smiled gleefully as Jean silently handed him an overflowing cup. Armin knew he was right about his earlier suspicions, he definitely was not getting that paper written tonight.
“Annie.” Connie raised his head to look at his friend, motioning towards the alcohol on the table as he finished off his drink. “Want anything?”
Annie shrugged, still holding the bored look on her face. “Not really an alcohol fan.”
“Are you done with that already?” Jean gaped incredulously, sending Connie a “what the hell” type of glare. Armin watched Connie grab the bottle again, eyeing the empty glass suspiciously.
The shorter man with the buzz cut nodded as he started pouring another drink, “Hell yeah man, I want to get shit faced tonight.”
Armin understood where his shorter friend was coming from, they were up for a very stressful week. But it was almost midnight already, and they still needed to sail the ship in the morning. Armin could work on his speech all day tomorrow, that didn’t bother him. What he didn’t want to deal with was a friend group that had a collective hangover.
“Jeez just stop chugging that shit, I don’t want to clean up puke.” Jean grumbled, sipping from the red wine he poured himself.
“Okay!” Pieck clapped her hands together loudly, gaining the attention of the squabbling party members. “I don’t know about you guys, but how about we move this to the couches, yeah?”
Before Armin could collect his thoughts or attempt to protest the situation to any greater extent, the group was sprawled across the living room again. Reiner had taken his spot by the projector, sitting on the same pillows and using the metal device as a stand to hold his drink.
Pieck and Annie sat across from Jean and Armin, Pieck pestering the blonde as she tried to go back to their shared room. Pieck was opening a mason jar with crystal clear liquid inside, offering it to Annie with a nudge.
An array of cups and glasses were positioned across the coffee table, no one had bothered to move the earlier tea cups and mugs. Jean and Connie had carried out some bottles from the kitchen, two had no label and the third was the same red wine Jean and Reiner were currently drinking.
Armin had a ceramic mug in his hands half-filled with some of the mystery alcohol on the knee-height table. He was fairly certain they had bought glassware specifically for drinking, but he liked the feel of the handle over his knuckles so he didn’t complain.
Connie had flipped the vinyl from earlier, dancing in place. Armin vaguely recognized the song that played from the horn.
Jean gasped with an obnoxious volume level, practically jumping to his feet. “I love this song!” He threw his head back in a melodramatic fashion as he mumbled along to every other word. For claiming to love the song, he didn’t seem to know many of the lyrics.
“C’mon.” Jean grabbed the mug out of Armin's hands and set it not-so gracefully against the cluttered coffee table, pulling on the sleeve of the blonde’s jacket as he hoisted his friend up. “On your feet, I want to dance.”
Armin laughed softly as he repositioned the drinks away from the edge of the wooden board. “You don’t need me to dance with you Jean. Besides, there's barely any room.” As much as he loved to dance with Jean and play into his antics, their living space was rather cramped and stuffy with the amount of people occupying it.
Jean let go of Armin’s wrist abruptly, crouching down to move the short table as the wooden legs scraped against the carpet with a loud creek. “There.” He straightened, wobbling for a moment as Armin rested a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Now there’s room.”
“You almost spilled the drinks.” Reiner pointed out gruffly, taking another dainty sip from his wine glass.
Connie threw his hands up over his head, hanging an arm over Armin’s shoulder for the second time that night. “WOOH! Party space! So much room for activities!”
“Activities you say.” Jean smirked, raising a mischievous eyebrow towards the blonde. Armin felt heat flush over his face, he pulled his hair into a ponytail before rubbing the tops of his ears. He felt warm. He needed to take his jacket off.
“Room strictly for dancing.” Armin corrected, still smiling as Jean grabbed his hand and spun him around the room.
Teeth showed through Jean’s quirked lips. “Well you’re no fun.”
Armin grinned back broadly, he felt a rush of air drag the strands he couldn’t pull into the ponytail across his face as Jean attempted to dance with him. Armin was confused by the bubbling feeling in his chest. He’d have to talk to Annie about them later, for now he decided to keep swaying with his taller friend.
“What is this?” Armin drew his attention back to the couch behind him. Annie had cautiously allowed Pieck to pour her some of whatever was in the mason jar.
Connie shrugged half-heartedly, wandering over to the vinyl cabinet as he poked and prodded through records Armin wasn’t confident he could differentiate between. “Don’t know, didn’t have a label on it.”
“Smells like Vodka.” Pieck stuck her nose into the top of the jar, inhaling deeply as she set the glass back on the side table.
“Annie, You’re Russian right?” Reiner spoke up for the first time in minutes.
The blonde woman brushed her hair out of her eyes as she sat up straighter, still holding the glass in front of her. “I think.”
Reiner stretched, rolling his shoulders as he uncrossed his legs. “Doesn’t vodka like, run through your veins or something. You shouldn’t have a problem with it.”
“That’s a stereotype-” Armin attempted to correct the man, but was quickly swept back up in the tumultuous dancing.
“Just take it like a shot, don't be a pussy.” Jean barked, doing a poor job at mimicking a ballroom dance as he shuffled along the carpet, his hands still pressed against Armin's sides.
Annie rolled her eyes as she swiftly swallowed the drink. Armin wasn’t surprised to see her expression virtually hadn’t changed. Pieck slapped her hands against her knees abruptly, jumping to her feet and spinning around in a dramatic fashion as she shrugged her shoulders suggestively in Annie’s direction.
“No.” Annie shook her head, waving her hands in front of her.
“Don’t be such a priss.” Pieck giggled, running her hands through her hair as she grabbed the hood of the other warrior's jacket.
Annie didn’t seem to put up much of a fight aside from the heavy roll of her eyes, rising to her feet on her own accord as Pieck dragged her into the center of the room with Jean and Armin. Annie stood pin straight, arms awkwardly stiff at her sides as she watched Pieck dance chaotically in front of her. The bright song ended with a cat-scratch halt as Connie tripped over Reiner's leg, knocking into the gramophone with an expletive followed by laughter.
Armin's paperwork lay long forgotten when Jean attempted to dip him after the song came to a sudden end. It was a valiant effort on Jean’s part, but Armin's back came crashing into the carpet below, the taller man quickly dragged down as well.
Connie cackled, trying to set the pin back on the vinyl while he watched Jean and Armin attempt to detangle themselves from each other.
The blonde man’s shoulder ached at the weight on top of him, but he smiled anyway. Too enraptured by Jean’s howling laughter to be angry in any important sense. Armin raised his hand that wasn’t clutching Jean’s shirt towards Annie. She lifted him up from the floor without any issue.
“It’s too warm in here to be dancing.” Armin appreciated Annie's thoughtfulness, but he wasn't quite ready to stop the blush from rising to his ears. He had hoped to blame it on the alcohol but he was positive he hadn’t had enough of that yet to do so.
“Fine then, we’ll dance outside.” Jean declared, stumbling to his feet, his face was a warm shade that matched Armin's. He was confident Jean’s blush could be blamed on the alcohol.
Without any time for complaints or further suggestions, Jean had shoved Armin in front of him as they marched around the couches and towards the door. The colossal titan laughed, managing to grab his drink before allowing himself to be pushed out of the room. Maybe he’d let himself get drunk after all. Pieck was right, they had four days until the Pardoning Ceremony. Armin still had plenty of time to revise his speech.
Connie cackled, grabbing his glass off the adjusted coffee table before racing after them. “Wait up! I wanna dance outside too!”
Pieck nodded around the glass currently pressed against her mouth, waiting until she had finished off her second drink before speaking. “I’ll get the lights.”
“Reiner grab the booze!” Armin heard Reiner and Annie acknowledge Connie’s yell with various sassy comments and eyeroll filled groans. He looked over his shoulder to see Reiner grabbing whatever bottles were scattered on the floor and table before rushing out the door after everyone else. Annie followed with a long dramatic sigh, taking another swig from the glass Pieck gave to her before walking out into the crisp night air with the others.
The deck was nearly pitch-black as Armin and the others navigated the boat. Connie ran ahead of the group, lapping up the cool salty air as he skipped along the wooden floorboards, seemingly unbothered by the darkness.
“Stop running.” Armin heard Reiner's voice behind him. “You’re going to fall on your ass.”
“Again with the ass jokes.” Jean quipped, tripping over his own feet.
Once he confirmed they were a safe distance into the main deck, Jean grabbed Armin's hands again, tugging the shorter man forwards into another dancing motion.
“We literally can’t see each other's feet, Jean.” Armin laughed, if he strained his eyes he could see the outline of Jean’s grinning face. Armin felt his shoes roll over something, catching himself before he toppled into Jean. “I definitely just stepped on you.”
Armin could feel Jean furiously shaking his head in childish denial. “Didn’t feel it, didn’t happen.”
“You’re an idiot.” He could feel the boat sway softly gently, it reminded him of Reiner and Annie’s motion sickness. “We’re probably going to fall over the railing.”
“Night swimming!” Connie burst out loudly, whooping as he danced loosely by himself. “Fun. Fun. Fun.”
An electric buzzing vibrated the still air before the deck flashed to life. Pieck had turned the string lights on, which now illuminated the boat brightly.
“Let there be light!” The group could hear Pieck’s celebratory holler, and the pounding of boots on metal paneling before she came running onto the main deck, still holding her drink in clasped hands. “That was literally so impressive. I went all the way to the control room, in the dark might I add, and turned on the lights for you guys. If that doesn’t scream bravery then I don't know what does.”
Annie rolled her eyes again, Armin thought he should start keeping count. “So dramatic.”
“Of course.” Pieck spun around, her long skirt flowering around her. “That’s what I’m here for.” Her monotone voice didn't match the enthusiasm her words implied.
“It’s so much easier to dance when I can see my partner! Who knew!” Jean gaped, tilting his head as he stared down at Armin. The thought that he resembled a puppy crossed through Armin’s mind.
Pieck grappled with Annie, latching onto her waist and spinning her around wildly, the shortest warrior pounding her fists against Pieck's arms, trying not to spill the drink in her hand. “No. Absolutely not.”
“What?” Pieck pouted playfully as she stopped swinging her friend around, downturned eyes bore into Annie's. “Am I not a good enough dance partner?”
Annie finally pried herself free from the cart titans grasp, awkwardly brushing off her shirt with her free hand. “That wasn’t dancing.”
“The only person Annie wants to dance with is Hitch.” Jean's teasing voice rumbled through Armin's head. Armin quickly shushed his dancing partner, smacking his shoulder.
Fuck. They’ve barely had anything to drink and Hitch was already getting mentioned.
The alliance had agreed not to bring up Hitch around Annie; it was one of their forbidden subjects, on par with Eren and Marco, it was just someone they didn’t talk about. Whenever the MP was mentioned, they’d get gloomy Annie again, and they had worked hard enough to get her out of her shell, it just wasn’t worth their efforts to mention the peppy MP Captain.
The deck had fallen into an awkward silence save for Connie's hushed comments. “Ouch, low blow.”
“Damn, a Hitch comment this early into the night. We might be in for a doozy.” Reiner whispered next to Jean, repeating the blonde's thoughts verbatim. Armin questioned for a moment if he had spoken out loud.
This was usually when Annie stopped drinking. If Hitch got mentioned that was when she tapped out for the night, went to bed early or left to work out in her room.
But Annie laughed the comment off; sort of. She chuckled halfheartedly before raising her glass back up to her lips, her breath fogged the glass as she took a sizable sip of the remaining alcohol. “Whatever you say Jean. I’m gonna go uhh… refill my drink.”
She finished off her drink with a hefty last gulp of the clear liquid before exiting the deck and walking back into the door leading out into the dark hallways. Armin sighed, watching her go- although he didn’t know what he expected, this always seemed to happen.
“Hey!” Connie cupped his hands over his mouth. “We moved the drinks out here Annie!”
The woman didn’t turn back around.
“She’s not coming back out.” Reiner sighed heavily, watching after his friends with worried amber eyes that seemed to glow underneath the string lights cast around the overhang. “At least we tried.”
Armin tightened his lips, exhaling. “She’s been weird all day.”
“I wonder what was in that letter.” Jean chimed up, taking the drink out of Armin's hand and nodding over his shoulder at the dark hallway. “Go talk to her.”
Armin’s eyes widened, and he grappled in mid-air as he tried to snatch his drink back. “Why me?”
“Because you two are friends, I think.” The taller man stepped back, raising his hand and keeping the glass out of Armin's reach. “You guys are close, figure out what she’s so pissy about.”
Connie nodded eagerly, the edges of his eyes pinching as a wolfish grin stretching over his face. “Yeah! And come back and tell us about it.”
Reiner and Armin both shot the shorter man a glare.
“What? I’m curious!” He defended brashly, voice rising to a falsetto.
“It’s just not helpful.” Reiner explained while Pieck nudged Armin forwards with a similar grin etched into her sullen features.
“Just go talk to her, lover boy. I’m sure even the Savior of the World is curious.” Armin could feel the cart titans breath on the back of his neck as she pushed him further away from Jean, effectively cutting off access to his drink. “I don’t even know who this Hitch guy is and I know this whole moody-gloomy-stormcloud shit is about him.”
No one had ever explained it to her. It’s not like they knew the story in full, but everyone knew bits and pieces. Armin doubted the full story even existed between Annie and Hitch themselves. As nosey as the blonde was, he wasn’t keen on getting involved with the sapphic pining when it was just Hitch. Now that it was both of them? Armin was tired of the yearning and utter lack of communication; most of which could be solved with one hastily written letter from Annie.
Armin liked to think he was easy to get along with, he tended to make friends and acquaintances rather easily. Hitch was no exception to that. After all of their conversations with an unresponsive Annie listening in, he was confident she was one of the many he considered an ally.
Hitch wrote to Armin rather often, sending him letters of regards from the Queen and wondering how his trip was going. He loved when she wrote him letters. Historia and Mikasa were always so stern and their letters were no different, but Hitch told him about the various drama and gossip around the MPs and other units. By the time they got back to Paradis tomorrow, Armin was fairly certain he would be caught up in all of the most recent news.
Even in the dim light of the basement, it was easy to tell that Hitch was rather fond of Annie. She wouldn’t have volunteered to be her keeper if she wasn’t. Armin knew a lot about Annie, not because she ever told him anything important about herself, but because Hitch couldn’t seem to stop talking about her once she started. How she was in the MP’s stories about their little group of four and how they used to try to make Annie laugh, or race Marlow and Boris to dinner. He liked hearing about Annie in the MP’s, it made her feel more… human, less like she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
Armin took another drink from his cup after Jean stopped spinning him in figures. He stared at the darkened doorway Annie disappeared into, taking in a determined breath of air.
___
Armin knocked on the metal doorframe, standing in the doorway as he stared into the dimly lit room. Annie was sitting cross-legged on the cot furthest away from the door, a port-hole hanging just above the bedding. She was hunched over a note Armin could only assume to be the letter she received this morning, a box was at her side, filled to the brim with other pieces of parchment paper and ripped open envelopes.
“Hey, you okay?” He knocked again, hoping to get her attention- she didn’t look up.
Annie didn’t pull her eyes away from the letter in her hands, she was gripping the edges so tightly Armin thought the paper would rip in her hands. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Everyone’s asking about you.” Armin didn’t move from the doorway, he knew the woman liked her space, and he’d hate to intrude where he wasn't welcome. “They’re worried.”
Annie huffed, rolling her eyes and setting the note down in the box on top of the other letters. “No they’re not, they’re pestering- same as you.”
“We’re curious, but can you really blame us?” Armin chuckled, leaning against the frame and letting the cool metal seep through his white button down. Annie finally looked up, meeting his questioning blue eyes.
She sighed heavily, tilting her head to the side. “You can come in.”
“Are all of those from Hitch?” He pushed himself off the doorframe, cautiously and curiously wondering about the wooden box on top of her covers. He didn’t think he’d ever seen it before, and it was obvious they were from Hitch. It’s not like anyone else wrote her letters; but it was interesting that she kept them.
Annie didn’t respond, although her ears burned red in the lowlight from the lamp at her bedside.
“It’s cute that you kept them all.” Armin sat down on the bed at a careful distance away from the other blonde.
“No, it’s unnecessary.” She sighed heavily, toying with the thin chain around her neck that held her fathers old spiked ring. “It’s not like I'm writing back to her.”
Whenever Hitch sent a letter everyone knew about it, because Annie would hole up in her room for days and the trash cans would get filled with crumbled pieces of paper and broken pens. Annie would sit hunched over a paper pressed over a book acting as her makeshift desk for hours, writing and rewriting letter after letter in response to the other woman. She never sent any of them out.
Armin and Reiner would sometimes pick through the remains of the writer's weekend and peel apart the crushed half-finished letters to reveal the words of someone Armin thought to be a poet. The words they would read were heart wrenchingly pretty and devastatingly eloquent. She worried and fretted about what she should write and what Hitch would want to hear, anxiously pouring her heart out to the woman a sea away.
“Are you going to let her read your poetry?” Armin pulled his knees close to his chest, resting his chin on his covered legs as he watched Annie through the light refractions in his glasses.
Annie huffed, readjusting her legs so she was turned towards the man. “I don’t even let you read my poetry.”
“I’m not Hitch.”
Armin let the words sink into the shadows of the room before continuing. “We’ve literally saved the world, if you can fight hundreds of colossals and the goddamn founder at once, you can talk to the girl you're crushing on.”
“I'm not crushing on Hitch.” Annie snapped, corrected the man with a roughness to her voice he had come to expect this late into the evening.
They were shrouded in an awkward silence. Armin watched Annie toy with the ring around her neck with calloused hands and bandage wrapped fingers. She had her hoodie pulled up around her neck, chin pulled into the worn gray fabric. It was her old hoodie, the one she wore whenever she received a letter from the MP an ocean away. Armin knew it smelled like Hitch, it had the same earthy-flowery warmth that the soldier used to have.
Armin and Reiner had heard tipsy Annie talk about the perfume Hitch used to wear enough times that Armin had asked for the MP to send them a bottle. Annie told stories of how Hitch used to take her hoodies and spray her own perfume on them before she gave them back to Annie when they were in the MP’s. Annie talked as if the action pissed her off, an annoyance she had no control over, and yet years later she still talks about the smell of the cotton.
The bottle Hitch sent them was sitting on the small crate next to Annie’s bed. Armin and Reiner played it off as if they bought it for Pieck and she hadn't liked it. Even though they had never seen Annie use it, Armin knew she did, the smell was subtle and dull, but still present. It existed on very few of her clothes, but it was still there, like a ghost of someone's soul she had collected.
“She wants to see me.” Annie’s small voice split the silence, it was shaky and vibrated deep in her throat, like she was fighting to keep something else down. “When we go back tomorrow, she wants to talk to me.”
Armin hesitated, mulling over the words. “That’s… good?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed, looking defeated. She ran her fingers over the letter in hands once more, rereading the words Armin knew she had read a hundred times before. “The ‘we have to talk’ conversation is never a good one.”
The ambassador tightened his lips, humming. “This time could be different.”
Annie puffed out a breath of air, the blonde bangs in front of her face swaying out before falling back into place. “I doubt it- she sounded mad.”
“Can I read it?” Armin held his hand out gently, coaxing the paper out of the other's grasp. Annie didn’t have fullproof tone indicators, he certainly hadn’t known one of Hitch’s letters to sound upset.
Hesitant hands letting go of a paper that already looked worn and well-read. The letter was short and straight to the point:
To my gloomy roommate,
Queen Historia tells me you’re going to be back on the island soon, I’d love the chance to catch up- to see you in person instead of in the pages of the newspaper. I’ll be at the docks with the other Military Police Officers when you all arrive, see you then.
With Love,
Hitch Dreyse X
“She’s not really giving you much of a choice in the matter, is she?” Armin chuckled. Although the letter was unusually short for the MP, it didn’t sound angry, it sounded like an order, like she was telling Annie what was going to happen and when it was happening.
Annie threw her hands over her face, groaning into her wrapped palms. “I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was low and had an almost whine to it, something Armin found to be oddly endearing.
“Well you’re going to talk to her obviously.”
“But what am I going to say?” She choked the question out, looking lost and worried as her brows knitted tightly together. “What is she going to ask?”
Armin smiled sweetly, handing the simple letter back to Annie. She took it with shaking hands and blue eyes blown wide, rereading the careful calligraphy-pen strokes. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow- or today? What time is it?”
Annie didn’t tear her eyes away from the paper, the edges crinkling in on themselves as she gripped it tighter. “I’m worried, Armin.”
“Of what? Hitch?” Armin tried to keep his tone of voice light, hoping to calm his anxiety riddled friend. “It’s not like she’s going to bite you- unless you want that to happen.”
Annie blushed bright and harsh, red tearing down her neck and turning the tips of her ears pink. “Why the hell would you say that?”
“It was a joke. You were supposed to laugh.” Armin hadn’t meant for his words to be taken in that context, and he ignored that that’s where her thoughts were immediately drawn.
“No I- ugh.” She threw her head forwards in her hands and groaned low and long, taking a deep slow breath before raising her head to meet his stare again. “I thought maybe as time went on my feelings would change or go away- it’s this heaviness that I thought would lighten but it just hasn’t.”
Armin readjusted his glasses, pushing them further up his nose. “And it won’t until you talk to Hitch.”
“No. Armin-”
“I know that’s not what you want to hear-”
“No it’s not.” Annie snapped, blue eyes seething with fury and pain and her whole body was taught and tight with the anxiety to defend her wants and needy reasons. “I want you to come up with a way to avoid it.”
“You don't even want to try to talk to her?” Armin tried to reason, desperately grasping at heartstrings he knew she was trying to bury alive.
Annie huffed, shoulders hunched and posture still brimming with worry and a fierce silent love. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Obviously she does-”
“She shouldn’t.”
“Enough with this self-deprecating, nihilistic bullshit.” Armin snapped, voice raising enough to finally gain her attention without any arguments and cutoffs for a moment. “Hitch, the girl you’ve been ignoring, wants to talk to you face to face. If she gets mad at you it’s honestly kinda deserved.”
Annie looked back at the paper in her hands, the edges crumpled up with a force that made Armin wince. “If I knew she hated me and wanted to curse me out I’d be happy to stand there and take her anger, but I know that’s not going to happen.”
“What’s going to happen?” He tried to figure out her assumptions, what she thought she already knew from a vague letter. “Are you scared she’ll confess? It’s not like she hasn't already.”
“No. She’ll tell me she found someone else. Someone who loves her as much as she deserves.” The paper was bunched up again, Armin wanted to pull it away before she ripped it. “And I can't even be mad about it, because what the hell was I doing about it? Ignoring her fucking letters, ghosting her for three years? Hitch deserves someone who’s kind to her, someone’s who’s actually fucking there.”
Annie balled the paper up, smashing it in on itself and crinkling it as small as it would go. She threw it at the opposing wall, towards Pieck's unmade bed. Armin watched it hit the metal floor with a soft twup .
“So you’re scared.”
“No-”
“Yes you are.” Armin stood up, walking over towards the other ambassador's bed. “You’re scared Hitch doesn’t love you. Even though you know she does.”
Annie sighed, it sounded desperate and it caught in her throat. She threw her head in her hands, “I don’t want her to.”
“Yes you do, or we wouldn’t be here right now.” Armin picked up the wadded mess on the floor, pulling and prying it apart and smoothing the paper out in front of him, trying to dispel the crackling creases and jagged tears at the edge.
“I can’t love her like that.”
Armin walked back over towards Annie, holding the unknotted letter gently in front of her. “You’re not even going to try?”
“No.” Annie ignored him waving the paper.
“You just want to live with that- what- that weight on your chest forever?” He pressed, voice dropped back to the careful tone he took on earlier, keeping the letter still raised towards Annie.
Annie finally looked up, pulling her red face from her bandaged hands. She tried to ignore the letter, opting to stare up at Armin. “It’s better than telling her. What if she’s moved on?”
“She hasn’t.” He waved the letter again, drawing her attention down to his hands.
“But what if-”
“Annie.” Armin sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Hitch wants to see you, and you want to see her, whether you admit it or not. Just talk to her, please.”
Annie went quiet, eyeing the letter directly in front of her. She took it with shaking hands and stiff shoulders, delicate with it this time as if she was scared she’d rip it up again- ruin Hitch’s most recent words to her. Her hands were gentle with the paper, trying her best to unfold the mangled mess she had created.
“So.” Armin interrupted her reunion with the letter. “Do you want to rejoin the group and drink our worries away with probably poisoned alcohol?”
Annie laughed something airy and familiar, her shoulders didn’t look as heavy with the letter in her hands. She stood up, setting the paper on top of the pile in the box. “I guess that beats rereading this damn letter. Barely.”
“Finally.” Armin let out a sigh of relief.
___
Almost an hour after Connie had walked in carrying a crate of alcohol, the moon sat high in the sky, illuminating the group in their drunken stupor as they sang and danced without so much as a care in the world.
They stumbled around, laughing in the soft glow of the string lights, faces flushed as they joked with boisterous intent, not bothering to control their ever growing volume.
A folding table had been moved onto the deck, along with three chairs and an assortment of whatever blankets and pillows Connie and Pieck could get their hands on. Jean had insisted the phonograph be moved out as well, he wanted to hear the music when he was dancing. Bottles and glasses of various sizes were scattered across the section of the deck their little party had taken over.
Jean’s foot caught on a blanket as he tripped forwards ever so slightly, Reiner had thrown an arm out to steady the shorter man. “Shit.” Jean mumbled incoherently as the alcohol he was pouring sloshed over the brim, dripping onto the deck.
Armin and Annie were both balanced on the guard rail, giggling and mumbling in hushed tones as they butted heads, shoulders touching every so often. Annie was no longer in her pleated pants and hood, now perched on the metal bar in a pair of athletic shorts and a white tank top. She had Reiner's jacket tossed loosely over her shoulders, the older man had claimed she looked cold and now that they couldn’t heal themselves, he was worried she’d freeze to death.
He had done the same with Connie and Jean, insisting they put on a jacket or wear a blanket shawl like Pieck was doing. Only Armin took him up on the offer, wrapped in the thick comforter from his bedspread on the railing.
At this point Jean had finished his dancing and was now sitting cross legged in the metal chair he dragged over. Pieck sat next to him in an identical chair, passing whatever she was smoking over to the dish-water blonde.
“That stuff smells like ass.” Reiner grumbled, flaring his nostrils as he started fake gaging.
Pieck raised an eyebrow, blowing smoke out of her nose. “How do you know what ass smells like, Reiner?”
Annie snapped her fingers before pointing in their direction, still holding her drink close. “Ad infinitum.”
“What?” Reiner and Pieck looked thoroughly confused. Armin vaguely understood what she was trying to say, commenting on the repetitive jokes Reiner had been making all night.
“There is no way you just broke out that vocabulary while drunk.” Jean set the bong on the floor of the deck next to him, settling back into his chair with low eyelids. “Someone hand her another damn drink.”
Pieck raised herself up out of the chair, handing the near-empty bottle of alcohol that sat next to her across the walkway to the other woman. Annie took it without complaints as she filled her glass.
After Pieck had started mixing drinks with the various juices they had stored around, Annie and Connie were pounding drinks back like it was nothing. Although Armin didn’t really know what he expected, Annie liked sweets.
He wasn’t worried about Connie, he’d drink too much, act like an idiot, and then have a hangover he cured with whatever breakfast Reiner made for them. Armin didn’t think he had ever seen Annie drink enough to outwardly appear tipsy, let alone drunk. But a dangerous blush had crept its way up the other blonde's face.
Armin thought about saying something before any more drinks were mixed. They weren’t titan shifters anymore, he was barely used to being one in the first place. But to the other three who have been able to heal themselves on command since they were nine years old, even after three years of no powers, he knew they struggled to fully comprehend it. Their bodies now healed at a normal rate a human would, they could no longer disperse the alcohol in their body fast enough to keep them sober. If they drank the same amount they used too, this could turn into an issue.
He let out a short puff of air from his nose, still holding onto the whiskey glass in one hand. Armin decided they were now adults who could make adult decisions. If they wanted to drink enough alcohol to knock out a titan, be his guest.
___
Another hour later Armin and Pieck had begun to loudly argue over the logistics behind deep sea divers, waving their hands wildly around as they presented their cases. The majority of the alcohol had been consumed, the only liquor remaining being the few bottles left on the kitchen table and whatever still sat in the pre-poured drinks.
Armin had grabbed a book from his oceans collection immediately following the first minute of the argument. “It says right here “There is no generic term for the combination of suit and breathing apparatus alone. It is generally referred to as diving equipment or diving gear along with any other equipment necessary for the dive.””
“With that logic a pocket watch the diver forgot to take out of their coat could be classified as diving equipment.” Annie had joined in with their antics, trying to piece together what exactly they were arguing about.
“It would be! It helps the diver tell time! It’s a diver’s equipment!” Armin had raised his voice several octaves, taking another large gulp from what was left in the glass still pressed firmly in his hand. His thoughts felt slow, like they were stuck to a glue trap, while his mouth was running a mile a minute. He wasn’t acknowledging the words that he was saying until he had already said them. Maybe he needed to take a break, he lost count of how much he had almost three drinks ago. Armin was already dreading the hangover he was going to have. He inwardly questioned where the water Reiner handed him a while ago was.
“Oh my fuck!” Pieck passed the bong back to Jean, leaning forwards in the chair. “You are not a diver, Armin! Your watch is not classified as divers equipment!”
“But it could be!” Armin hollered, smiling as he attempted to plead his case, blush rising to his ears as he pulled the ends of his blanket closer around him. “It says it right here.” He motioned towards the open oceanography book in front of him. When did he grab this from his room? He couldn’t be bothered to try to remember.
“You’re delusional if you think I’m sober enough to read that.”
“Hydrate.” Armin passed her the water that was in his hands. (So that’s where it was.) Pieck took it without missing a beat, twisting the cap off.
Armin thought she resembled a toddler as she tilted her head back to try and get more of the quick emptying plastic bottle. He reached up to pull the bottle away from her before she drank it all. “My turn.” Armin could feel the chapped dryness of his lips pull at his teeth. He downed the rest of the remaining water before Pieck could argue.
Armin gasped as he finished the water, he tried to put the cap back on before remembering it was still Pieck's hands. He was pretty sure there was a phrase for drinking after other people. He'll remember it tomorrow.
Connie was staring up the main mast, mumbling incoherently as he tilted his head back at an angle great enough that it threatened to send him falling over. “I think that’s called an indirect kiss. Do you think I can climb this?”
Armin had never seen Reiner shoot to his feet at a greater speed. “Connie, NO.” The warrior was marching towards their short friend, who had started to shimmy up the bottom of the wooden pole.
Reiner had taken the role of their guardian of sorts after about three rounds of drinks, not bothering to drink anything else and instead focused on keeping his friends on the boat and their antics contained. That had resulted in the multitude of blankets and jackets, bottles of water that still sat mostly ignored, and various comments about how Armin and Annie shouldn’t be hanging off the railing. Jean started calling Reiner their self appointed babysitter. Which Armin was grateful for after watching Annie do a round of shots with Connie. She usually never drank, he wondered what the occasion was. It was probably something to do with that damn letter.
Annie was never the babysitter per say, she was just usually the sober one that made passive aggressive comments at the dumb ideas her drunk friends brought to attention. She never went out of her way to stop them, she just hoped her mean comments would deter them enough to not do the idiotic things their drunk minds conjured up. Which Armin was always grateful for.
“No no, let him try. I wanna watch him fall on his ass.” Annie remarked, a snarky grin present on her face. This was not one of those nights.
“Be nice.” Armin shoved Annie’s shoulder harder than either had anticipated, resulting in the blonde losing her balance.
Annie jerked her arm, motioning in Armin's direction before slipping off the railing. “Shit-” She yelped before the sound of splashing water cut off her words.
“Did she just fall in?” Jean sat upright abruptly, eyes wide as he stared at the empty space next to Armin.
“She’s fine.” Armin felt strangely unbothered, not even turning his head to look over the side. If Mikasa couldn’t kill her Armin highly doubted salt water could. “Although, I think I underestimated how drunk she was.” Armin muttered, finally peeking his head over the side of the boat as he watched Annie glare up at him, flipping him off. Pieck cackled brashly, only ending in a coughing fit as she struggled to regain her breath, too bad she already drank Armin's water.
“She did have a whole costume change.” Jean pointed out, before Connie dashed past him, hauling himself over the railing.
“CANNONBALL!”
“Connie NO-” Annie was cut off as Connie crashed into the dark water. He came to the surface sputtering, throwing his arms above his head.
“Fuck! It’s cold!”
Reiner let out a loud sigh as he looked over the guardrail, watching Connie splash water at a brooding blonde.
Armin pulled his head back, shrugging off his blanket and handing it over to Jean. “Hold this.” The Eldian shifted back on the rail, not bothering to look over his shoulder before tilting his body backwards and plunging into the water with Connie and Annie.
Connie was right, it was cold. The water clung to Armin's clothes, threatening to pull his head beneath the ever present ripples of water that came from under the boat. He was just glad he had remembered to plug his nose before diving into the water. Maybe he was drunk as well. He underestimated how drunk Annie was, but it was starting to prove that he had underestimated his own level of sobriety as well. Sober Armin didn’t jump into the cold ocean in the middle of the night. He was someone who was rational and thought things through. But he was also someone who was now probably going to wake up in the morning with a hangover and a cold.
Annie’s hair was pulled out of her hair tie from the fall, she treaded water with her arms wrapped around herself. She looked cold, Armin vaguely recalled that she was wearing a jacket before he pushed her into the water. He assumed it was long gone by now.
“Hell yeah Armin!” Connie whooped, still splashing around childishly as he started to doggy paddle around the other two. “Come on Jean! Don’t be a pussy!”
“Get out of there!” Their mullet haired friend yelled back, hands gripping the railing tightly as he leaned over the side of the boat. “You’re going to catch a cold and we have shit to do tomorrow!”
Annie rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. “So now you’re worried about our responsibilities.” She hadn’t said it with much mirth, eyes bright as she smiled up at the crew still left on the boat. They were lucky it was a small boat, or the fall down would have hurt way more than the cold chill.
“Hell no!” Connie cackled, swimming around sporadically, still keeping close to the boat. “It’s starting to warm up to me!”
Armin thought he was delusional.
Twenty minutes had passed by before Armin could even begin to process the chill that had begun to sink into his bones. At this point almost everyone was off the boat. Reiner and Jean were trying to coax Connie out of the water, Reiner was soaked after pulling Armin and Annie out, but Jean stayed relatively dry. Jean stood on the beach, trying to bribe Connie with the miscellaneous sugary snacks they still had on the boat, while Reiner was wading in the water, trying to grab Connie. Armin was too cold to worry or wonder where Pieck had run off to.
It was a comical instance, whenever Connie would float within grabbing distance, he would somehow break free of the older man's grasp. Flopping around like a fish out of water before tumbling back into the salty waves.
Armin and Annie sat on the edge of the docks, feet dangling over the easy churning water. Armin watched Connie resurface after face planting into the ocean, yet again escaping from Reiner's grip. He came back up coughing and sputtering like an idiot, laughing as he batted Reiner and Jean away.
“I hate this.” Annie mumbled under her breath, barely heard above their yelling friends. She had her elbows resting on her knees, staring down at the dark water beneath them.
Armin managed to miraculously tear his eyes away from the scene on the beach. “The cold? Or the water? I’m not entirely fond of either myself, I didn’t expect the ocean to be nearly as cold as this-”
“No-” Annie groaned in frustration, motioning her hands in small muted gestures. “They’re all just having fun. We’re just getting wasted and high to avoid thinking about our actual responsibilities. Because then we have to remind ourselves of what we had to do to get this far, how many people don’t get to do any of this anymore.” Annie sniffed loudly, she had goosebumps over her arms. “Fuck- I’m not good at this. I tried Armin, I really did. But it’s been three years and I’m still so bad at this.”
Armin thought she looked agitated, but her voice cracked and her words slurred enough that he knew he was right on the earlier assumption that she wasn’t nearly as sober as he had originally thought. If she reread that letter from Hitch right now it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.
“Wow- okay ummm.” Armin scratched the back of his neck, his brain still felt slushy and slow, definitely not sober enough to deal with an existential crisis.
Annie ignored Armin and continued with her rant, absentmindedly cracking her knuckles. “When we were sent to that island we were just fucked up kids. And it’s what- ten years later? And we’re still fucked up about it! Who the hell sends children to fight a war. That’s so fucked up. Who let them do that? Why the hell did we go along with it? It’s fucking bullshit.”
She threw herself backwards onto the waterlogged docks, her arms open and starfished as she continued with her rant. Armin lifted his legs from dangling over the water, tucking them against his chest as he turned to watch Annie.
At this point Armin had fully registered that Annie was drunk ranting, and showed no signs of stopping. But she had listened to his problems and drama for almost four years without any complaints, and he figured he could at least do the same. If it was truly a serious conversation they needed to have, Armin hoped she’d bring it up again when they’re both unintoxicated.
“We became child soldiers for a country that hated us, we killed for people that wanted us dead. And what the hell were we supposed to do about it, we were fucking eleven. The only thing that should’ve been making us stronger was vitamins and milk, not turning us into skyscrapers.”
Armin didn’t know if she wanted any acknowledgement to her words or not. He came to the conclusion that this was just something she needed to get off her chest; so he chose to stay silent.
Annie groaned loudly, hitting the back of her head against the boards beneath her. “It’s all bullshit. And now I’m making damn excuses for everything. That’s bullshit too.”
She was enunciating far too heavily on the expletives for a drunk Armin to take what she was saying seriously. They sat in silence. Armin had hoped Annie would keep ranting, he didn’t have enough mental stamina to hold up an actual conversation right now. He watched Pieck finally walk off the boat, tossing Reiner's jacket on Annie, covering her face before jogging towards the edge of the beach where Reiner and Jean were still tangling with Connie. She did so without so much as a glance towards the two blondes.
“Pieck was right.” Annie's slurred voice finally cut through the awkward silence, she dragged the jacket off her face with a sluggishness Armin didn’t think he’d ever seen from her before.
“About what?” Armin felt himself slowly sobering up after the chilly plunge off the boat, but he definitely wasn’t present enough for a continuation of her previous tirade.
Annie let out a long sigh, sitting up and pulling the oversized coat up her shoulders. “I wanted to dance with Hitch.”
The blonde rubbed her eyes, half-hiding her face between her hands. “She loved dancing. She used to invite me out with her friends. I never went, it’s not really my thing. But she said she wanted to dance with me.”
Armin had a hunch Annie was tearing up and was pretending to rub her eyes to hide it from Armin. Annie was obviously still worked up about Hitch’s letter, having to see her and talk to her as soon as they docked on the shore of Paradis. He figured she had already run through hundreds of scenarios in her head since she read the calligraphy-style letters on the tri-folded page.
He didn’t know how to word this without making his drunk friend more upset. “Annie, again- Hitch is literally in love with you.”
“I know,” Annie lifted her hands from her face, finally putting her arms through the sleeves of the jacket. It was too big on her, Armin had the nagging thought to roll up the sleeves for her. “But I left her,”
Tears that had been threatening the corners of her eyes finally spilled over. “And I didn’t write back to her, like at all. She probably hates me now. No one’s ever cared about me the way Hitch has, love was always conditional, but not from her. She loved me and I don't know why, I don't know how she did it. And I worry that I'll never be loved the same way she loved me again.”
Well shit.
He pushed his glasses up his nose awkwardly, running his hands through his tied up hair again. Armin didn’t know how to respond to the action, or what procedure to take. This kind of thing didn’t happen. Annie wasn’t an emotional drunk, that was Reiner’s forte. Although, Armin had never really seen Annie drink before tonight, so who knows.
This situation with Hitch was definitely well past pining by now, this was uncharted waters Armin didn’t know how to navigate. And their friend group didn’t exactly have a great track record when it came to sapphic relations.
“You’re spiraling.” Annie sniffed, nudging Armin with the outside of her knee. “Stop it.”
Armin nudged her back. “Sorry, I’m thinking.”
Armin truly didn't know where this conversation had taken him, and he really didn’t know what to say to help Annie’s situation.
“So, girls huh?” The blonde man picked at the skin around his nails, anything to distract him from the other blonde's blue eyes.
As if he didn’t already know that fact about her. He used to like her, a sweet and innocent crush that had his heart fluttering. When he bucked up enough courage to confess, Annie revealed her attraction to the same gender. Not like he minded or was upset in any way, he wanted Annie to keep being Annie- and that wasn’t liking him. He much preferred her as a friend anyway- it was simpler like that.
Annie shrugged again, wet tear tracks still over her cheeks.
“Sorry, I'm not trying to make things awkward, I uhh I like guys too- sometimes.” Armin raised his eyes finally, watching Annie fiddle with a small piece of wood she pried from the worn docks.
“I know.” Her eyes didn’t move from the sliver she rubbed between her fingers. “We’ve talked about this before. And you keep flirting with Jean.”
Now that was unexpected. Armin felt heat rise up neck and press a deep red hue into his face. “It’s not like that at all! Jean just wanted to dance, and I was the nearest person!”
Annie finally looked up from the fragment of wood. “Right.” She didn’t sound convinced, but her short lived tears had stopped.
“Like you wouldn't be flirting with Hitch if she were here.” Armin muttered, taking the wood chip from her hands and tossing it over his shoulder. Maybe he was being harsh, but he really wanted her to ignore the Jean comment.
She blinked. “You think I’d flirt…with Hitch?”
“Sure.” Armin sighed, releasing the breath he held, relieved she didn’t start crying again. “You’ve been pining for years. I get that you’re not the type to start a conversation, but with some alcohol, I think you’d be fine.” He backpedaled, feeling as though he was digging a hole for himself. “Maybe not as much as you’ve had tonight, just something for your nerves- liquid courage.”
Annie furrowed her brow, “I don’t pine.”
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news Annie, but you are.”
“I am what?”
“Pining.” Armin clarified for his drunk friend. “You’ve been pining for her for years now. It’s pretty cute actually. You get so soft when you talk about her.”
Annie pouted, looking away from Armin as she rubbed her eyes again. “I’m not soft. And I don’t pine.” She sniffed again, rubbing her arms. “I just liked talking to her. She made everything not terrible. I didn’t care what anyone else talked about, they were always blaming all of their problems on me. As if everything would be right if I hadn’t done the things I did. They all liked to blame the world's problems on someone they could fight and take their anger out on. But Hitch, she just talked to talk. She would ask how my day was and tell me about the things that weren’t important. But I’d listen and try to remember as best as I could because it was important to her. I was important to her.”
“Whenever Hitch would come and talk to me about the boys she fucked or the girls she went on dates with, there was this weird feeling in my chest. And whenever I think about it too hard, that feeling comes back. It’s horrible, suffocating. I didn’t mind the crystal, I don’t like talking and it was quiet in there. Quieter than any other dream I’ve ever had. But when she brought up those people I just - I don't know.”
Armin wasn’t sure he was following anymore, Annie seemed to have gotten sidetracked along the way, but now he was definitely sure of one thing.
“You were…jealous of the people Hitch was seeing.” Armin treaded carefully, spacing out each word so he would have enough time to try and properly articulate what he was about to say. “So, you’re in love with her.”
Annie stopped, frozen. She pulled the jacket sleeve away from her face and blinked slowly, brows knitting together as she turned towards the blonde with wide eyes. “What.”
“Oh! I thought you knew that.” Jean’s voice sounded from behind Armin. He was too distracted with the Annie situation to hear the others clamoring up onto the dock with them. Reiner held onto Connie's arm tightly, keeping him firmly pressed in place so he wouldn’t go parading back into the cold waters.
Reiner scratched his stubble with a free hand. “I don’t know if I’d say Annie’s in love with Hitch.” He paused for a moment as if to regain his thoughts. “But I think Annie likes the idea of someone seeing all of the bad in her and still falling in love with what they find. Which is, in this situation, exactly what Hitch did.”
That might have been one of the most well-formatted sentences Armin had ever heard from the man. But he could also just still be heavily intoxicated. Any sentence structure with proper grammar and a mediocre vocabulary sounded like poetry when he wasn’t sober.
“Pretty sappy if you ask me.” Jean chuckled, holding a hand out to help Armin to his feet. Armin accepted the offer, getting pulled upright by the taller man. Annie stood up in tandem to the other blonde, brushing off her shorts deftly as she started back towards the docked boat.
Connie gasped loudly, slack jawed as the rest of the group started after their blonde friend. “Wait the MP? Annie’s old roommate?”
“Who? Hitch?” Pieck was just as lost as Connie was, she placed a hand on the railing as she walked up the ramp to the boat. Armin put his hand on her back while Pieck swayed harshly to one side, nearly toppling over.
Connie laughed as he jumped onto the deck of the boat, throwing his arms out to balance himself. “Oh my God! Is that who we’ve been talking about!?”
“Who’d you think we were talking about?” Jean muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the railing.
He shrugged with added indifference, “I don’t know Mikasa?”
“Mikasa?” Armin mumbled under his breath, confused. Annie and Mikasa, that was a new one- although he vaguely remembered Ymir and Mina teasing Annie about something to do with Mikasa in the cadet corps. He couldn’t be bothered to remember. He picked up the blanket he dropped onto the deck earlier, wrapping it snuggly around his shoulders once more, back where it belonged.
“Yeah, they were pretty flirty.” Connie double downed on the idea, making his way towards the hallway door. “Sasha used to tell me about how they would get right up in each other's face and just stare all mean-like, real intimidating shit.”
“Wait, is Hitch a girl?” Pieck was finally putting two and two together, pointing an accusing finger in Annie’s direction. “Do you like girls?”
“I like Hitch.” Annie corrected, following Connie towards the hall. Armin followed suit, they could take care of everything they left out on the deck tomorrow, he was too tired to carry anything but his blanket right now.
“Now you’ve got us all curious-y, Annie.” Pieck whined as the group meandered inside the living room. Reiner collapsed into the couch with a sigh, closing his eyes almost immediately. HIs babysitter duties seemed to have thoroughly drained his stamina.
Connie spun around theatrically, tilting his head down to stare at the shorter woman. “Do you just like girls, or do you like boys too? Sasha liked both, she was a bicycle or something”
“Bisexual.” Jean corrected aptly, yawning loudly. He made a bee-line towards the doorway adjacent to the kitchen, heading in the direction of the bedrooms. Armin assumed he was calling it a night before the group started talking again. He wanted to do the same.
“Goodnight, Jean!” Pieck hollered into the void of darkness that encapsulated and surrounded the hallways into their sleeping quarters. Jean only yawned in response, barely raising a hand over his shoulder to wave at the crew before disappearing into the abyss. “Asshole.” The warrior grumbled, rolling her eyes as she wandered past Armin and into the kitchen.
Annie picked her way through the mess of the living area to reach the couch Reiner was on. Armin watched her trip over her own feet before crashing into her friend's side with a groan. He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her as she set her head on his shoulder.
“Are you cold?” Reiner mumbled under his breath, talking to Annie who had her face buried in his side. Armin could see the goosebumps running up her arms from where he stood. He could’ve swore she was wearing a jacket a few minutes ago.
Annie nodded, grunting noncommittally as she burrowed deeper into Reiner's shirt. Reiner rubbed his hand along her bare arm, pulling her closer and tucking her head under his chin. “You should probably change. You’ve got goosies and you’re shaking like a little purse dog.”
She didn’t respond, although Armin agreed with the older warrior, those who jumped off the boat should probably change into something that wasn’t getting water on their carpets, himself included.
Pieck hummed to herself, picking at the fruit that was on the counter. Armin assumed Pieck had what she and Connie liked to call “the munchies”. Her eyes were still red rimmed as she sifted through the fridge, looking for something in particular.
Armin bit back a yawn, dropping onto the floor near the coffee table. He grabbed the pocket watch with clammy hands. 2:46, Monday morning. Armin pulled the blanket tighter around himself, resting his face against the papers on the table. He read a few words from the ink out of the corner of his eye. It was his notes on the treaty Historia needed to approve. He'll look it over tomorrow, he was too tired to focus on anything at the moment.
Connie had settled on the floor, somewhere along the trip onto the boat, he had procured Reiner’s jacket. He had it shoved under his head, using it as a pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. “Y’know, I'm pretty sure it’s called bicycle. NO! It’s bipedal.”
“Connie I can assure you it is neither of those things” Pieck mumbled around the unpeeled orange in her mouth, she was wrestling with a bottle of water in her hands, struggling to twist the cap off.
“I really miss her.”
Armin raised his head off the knee-height table, squinting in the direction of Connie. “Who?” He had lost track of who was missing who, he was still in the Hitch and Annie mindset.
“Sasha.” He curled in on himself, sniffling obnoxiously loud.
Oh. This wasn’t going to end well. Where the hell was Jean when they needed him?
“Reiner?” Connie rolled over, looking up at the couch Annie and Reiner were currently occupying.
“Yeah.” He craned his head to look at Connie, arm still firmly placed around a shivering Annie.
Connie blinked harshly, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. “Do you miss Berthold like how I miss Sasha?”
The room went deathly quiet. Armin wished he followed Jean back to their shared room, there is no way in hell he wanted to deal with this.
Reiner shook his head. “Uhhh, I don’t- I don’t know, Connie.”
“You don’t know if you miss Berthold?” Annie blinked her eyes open to stare up at Reiner, she still looked fairly disorientated. Armin assumed she was close to falling asleep.
“No I do, I miss him.” Reiner corrected quickly, swallowing hard. “I just think how I miss Berthold is… different than how you miss Sasha.”
Connie sniffled again. “How come?”
Reiner clicked his tongue, eyes locking with Armin's. He looked as though he was frantically searching for an answer, he looked lost. “I miss Berthold-” He started carefully. “-like how Annie misses Hitch.”
Pieck spit her water out, sputtering as she tried to catch her breath, seemingly caught off guard.
“Ohhhhh.” Connie nodded, the loose tears subsiding from his eyes as he sniffled a final time. “Yeah no Sasha and I never kissed. That wasn’t our thing.”
Annie sat up, still looking dazed and sleepy. “Connie, I never kissed Hitch.”
That caught Armin's attention. “You’re telling me, that you’ve been pining for this girl for this long and you’ve never even kissed her?” He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. Why did all of their Sapphic friends never get to kiss their lovers? This was ridiculous.
Water dripped from the back of Pieck's hand as she rubbed her bottom lip, breathing still labored and eyes watery after her spit-take. She stared with wide eyes at Reiner. “You had a thing with Berthold?!”
“That’s old news, I was third-wheeling for years.” Annie shifted in her spot, sitting up a little straighter against Reiner, her eyes were locked with Connie. “Why the hell did you think I kissed Hitch?”
Connie shrugged sluggishly, eyes sliding closed as he yawned, showing his unusually pointed canines. “Dunno. I thought you were in love with her or something.”
“I love Hitch.” Annie corrected, crossing her arms. Whether it was a nervous tic or she was still cold, Armin couldn’t tell. “I’m not in love with Hitch.”
“But you want to kiss her.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and Armin already knew the answer. Annie was more talkative than usual, they may as well make the most of it- finally get some damn answers.
The blonde cracked her knuckles again, there was no popping noise. “Sometimes.”
“So you are in love with her.” Pieck plopped down on the couch next to Annie, picking at the orange slices in her hand. She passed Connie the peel as he reached up for it, the man shoving it in his mouth immediately. Armin thought he resembled a dog chewing on a bone.
“I-” Armin swore he saw tears prickling the edge of Annie’s eyes for the second time that night. She threw her hands over her face again, leaning back into Reiner, who was fighting to stay awake. “I don’t know.”
Armin looked at the watch again; 3:02. They needed to get some sleep before they left later today. Connie crunched loudly on the orange, gnawing at the peel while laying on his back, eyes trained to the metal ceiling. Armin thought he might choke if he kept it up. Mrs. Springer would kill them if they let her son die from an orange peel.
“Hitch,” Pieck peeled off another chunk of the fruit in her hands, setting it in one of the coffee cups on the coffee table. “What’s she like?”
Pieck now had Annie’s full attention. Well as full as she was going to get with a still very drunk and sleep deprived soldier. Armin didn’t get up just yet, he liked hearing Annie talk about Hitch. Her voice got lower, softer, and her eyes crinkled just enough to resemble a smile if you looked hard enough.
“She’s uhh, well she was always lazy when we were MPs together.” Annie shifted away from a half-asleep Reiner, eyeing the orange in Pieck's hands. “Couldn’t take her job seriously to save her life. She was hopelessly optimistic and immature, but she meant well. She acts like an air-head but don’t believe her, she’s smarter than everyone gives her credit for. She was funny, sometimes. It was fun to listen to her, Marlow and Boris bicker over stupid things at breakfast. I know she’s different from when we were in the MPs, she’s a captain now, which is - so, so cool. I guess she’s doing good things for the Military Police, helping Historia with the new Royal Guards and all that.”
Annie took an orange slice, popping it into her mouth without missing a beat. “Sometimes I miss those guys, Hitch more than the other two. Well not really miss them specifically, I just liked the simplicity of the MPs.” She swallowed the fruit slice as Pieck handed her another one, listening intently. “If only it wasn’t so corrupt. Most higher-ups were worse than I was, and I was a damn titan.”
Armin didn’t think he’d ever seen Annie talk with such a tenderness in her eyes. She seemed to have a soft spot for the MP that far exceeded Armin's original theories.
“I miss her, Pieck.” Annie rested her chin on the palm of her hand, staring at the orange slice she had yet to eat. “I miss her stupid wavy hair and stupid green eyes and stupid freckles and her stupidly pretty smile. I miss her. I really miss her.”
Pieck tossed another slice into her mouth. “It sounds like it.”
“But I just left her there.” Annie was starting down this spiel again. She got mad at Armin for spiraling earlier, but here she was, doing the same thing he did. “She didn’t have to help me, but she did. And what did I do about it?”
“You ignore her letters?” Armin hoped his input would help speed up this near identical rant.
“I ignore her goddamn letters.” Annie shoved the orange slice in her mouth, cheeks puffed as she chewed intently. She crossed her arms with a huff, blowing hair out of her eye. “I don’t even think she likes pie.”
Connie spat out the orange peel he had been munching on. “Sounds like a bummer.” He held the lopsided orange pulp he had pulverized up to the light, giggling to himself. “I made it look like a brain.”
Armin stood up, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. He felt like he’d seen enough, and he was far too tired to listen to another one of his friends drunk ranting. Reiner and Jean were both asleep, Pieck seemed to have Annie handled, and Connie was… being Connie.
He shuffled around the man who was sprawled over the floor. “Throw that out before you go to sleep.”
Connie waved him off, putting the orange glob back into his mouth.
Pieck grabbed the sides of Annie’s face. “Woah ohh– you are such a pretty crier. Has anyone told you that before?”
Annie looked over at Reiner, whose head was tilted backwards and snoring softly. His arm now hung loose at Annie’s side. “No?” She sounded just as confused as Armin felt, mostly because she hadn’t cried since they were out on the docks.
“Well they should because your eyes are soooo blue.” Another orange slice was shoved into the cart titans mouth. “They’re like, pow! Blue! Armin, come look!”
Armin rubbed his face, leaning in to see what Pieck was talking about. They looked the same shade of blue like they always did, although Pieck was still relatively high, so he didn’t find the need or want to correct her.
“I don’t usually cry in front of people.” Annie took another orange slice from Pieck's outstretched hand, picking at the white pith that tore at the edges of the fruit.
Pieck stood up, using the top of Annie's head to steady herself. Annie's eyes followed the taller warrior. “Well maybe you should start because you’re gorgeous.”
Armin yawned again, grabbing the last orange slice from the cart titans open hand. “I’m going to bed. Turn the light off before you leave.” About damn time, his bed had been calling his name for the past hour.
“M’kay.” Pieck stretched her arms over her head, pulling Annie to her feet for the second time that night. The blonde warrior lurched forwards before Pieck steadied her with one hand. Annie batting it away while suppressing a heavy yawn.
As Armin walked out of the living room, he half considered helping Reiner and Connie to their own room. He didn’t think about it too hard as the lights from the living room dimmed, casting the hallways into shadows.
Armin opened the room he hoped to be his and Jeans before flopping down into the nearest empty bed. The comforter encased him in a cocoon of warmth comfortable enough that he knew he would have a hard time getting out of it in the morning.
Before he could remember to change out of his wet clothes, sleep dragged his thoughts down through the floors and towards the sea floor. He’d worry about it when he woke up.
___
Armin glanced down at the pocket watch in front of him; 10:25. He inwardly sighed, tapping his fingers against the metal kitchen table. They should be up by now. He knew they’d most likely sleep in, but this was getting ridiculous.
Reiner and Armin had both woken up a little past seven to set sail for their journey. By the time Connie had sat up from his spot on the floor, everything that was on the deck from the previous night was back in the living room, and Reiner had started cleaning the kitchen to make breakfast. Armin was fairly certain the mention of bacon had awoken the man.
Pieck crawled out of bed about an hour ago, hair tangled into more of a mess than usual. Armin had wanted to go over his notes with Annie before he started writing, but the woman had yet to show her face, so he had resorted to Pieck.
She laid on her stomach sprawled across the floor between the kitchen and living area, a pillow shoved under her chin as she read from Armin’s journal and took notes in her own. The warrior kicked her feet back and forth, a coffee mug sat in front of her on the floor, hot steam rolling out of it.
Pieck had been reading over and editing her speech for the pardoning since she woke up; they all had their own speeches and presentations and were doing roughly the same thing- all except Annie. It was a general unspoken consensus that Annie would remain silent during everything. Although the woman was a writer, Reiner’s speech was second only to Armin's' because Annie wrote it, but she herself wouldn’t be the one to deliver it.
As much as Armin hated to admit it, and as mean spirited as it felt, Annie wasn’t good at being an ambassador. She was brilliant and intelligent and had an innate understanding of what needed to be done and when; but she wasn’t a public speaker, she wasn’t a people person, she wasn’t a socializer. Annie was quite possibly the worst choice for an ambassador there was, and she herself knew it. It was one of those things everyone tiptoed around, something no one brought up and yet they all knew.
Historia purposefully left out a place for a speech from Annie in the itinerary she sent out. And no one batted an eye. Armin felt for his friend, really. This was the one thing they could do to try to make up for everything that had happened, to try and fix their broken world, and she was terrible at it. She was tired of fighting and yet it was the one thing she was good at.
Armin had been anticipating for Annie to wake up late, it was a nightmare trying to get her up anytime before 8 when she wasn’t previously intoxicated, but Jean? Armin expected better from the man that went to bed the earliest. He sighed again, rolling his shoulders.
Waves rocked against the side of the boat, lulling Armin's distress. He glanced towards the living area, watching Connie pack away the breakable items carefully into boxes. They never said the living room décor was practical, it was just charming, homey. Although their trinkets were usually put away before they set sail, they were behind schedule this morning. Armin had wanted everyone to be up and dressed by this time, but nothing ever seems to go according to plan.
Only Armin and Reiner were dressed in their ambassador uniforms. Sort of. After getting the boat ready to set off, and moving everything around, both of them had opted for just their slacks and button ups.
The white sleeves of Reiner’s shirt were rolled up, and his shirt half-way unbuttoned underneath the apron he sported. He stood in front of the stovetop, working his way through making the group breakfast, which Armin appreciated greatly.
Armin's own blazer made a home on the back of the chair he was sitting in, the top button of his collar popped as he slouched forwards, elbows resting on the table.
Pieck was wearing her recognizable long skirt and ruffled blouse, although still not the right uniform but it was dressed enough that Armin didn’t care. Connie on the other hand, was clad in a pair of striped boxers and a tank top that typically went under their uniforms. He moved around the living room with a purpose, humming as he put more things in boxes.
As much as Armin wanted to scold his friend's choice of attire, he stopped himself. Connie had taken care of the glass bottles from last night and washed the mugs that were on the table even before they started drinking.
Reiner sighed, gaining Armin’s attention. “Well I’m just about done with the food, so someone go wake Annie and Jean up.”
Connie and Pieck brightened instantly, eyes shooting to find each other.
“I’ll do it!”
Connie set down the box he was holding on the couch and Pieck jumped to her feet, scampering away from the kitchen. Both skid over the tile flooring in their socks as they barreled into the hallways leading to the bedrooms, shoving each other through the doorways.
“I call Annie!”
“You got Annie last time!”
“Tough titties! You snooze, you lose!”
It was already ten in the morning, closely nearing midday, but Armin would have argued that it was still too early for their shenanigans. Those two were the only one’s willing to wake Annie up, Pieck almost seemed to take pride in tearing the covers off the unconscious blonde every morning.
“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” Armin and Reiner shared a look of amusement as they heard Pieck's cry echo through the boat. Not a moment later, the rumble of Jean’s tired voice yelling at what was assumed to be Connie, who’s loud tea-kettle laughter sang through the corridor.
Connie came sliding back into the living room, his socks propelling him forwards along the cool tiled floors. He launched himself into the recliner he had just cleared off moments ago, grinning as he stared at the doorway to the halls. Jean came stomping out of it, t-shirt wrinkled and pajama pants sideways as he stretched loudly. Armin chuckled at the man's bed-head.
Annie was shoved past him by Pieck, the blonde having equally messy hair to the ravenette. Bags hung under Annie's eyes as she bit back a yawn, blinking heavily. She appeared to be half-asleep, running her hands through her unkempt hair and shuffling towards the table. She was still dressed in the same tank top and shorts from last night, but was sporting a cream cardigan with rolled up sleeves that most likely belonged to Pieck.
The blonde sat down in the open chair next to Armin, resting her forehead on the refreshingly chilly metal of the table in front of her.
“Someone looks tired.” Armin looked up from the words he was reading.
Annie groaned, not raising her head as she threw her arms over her hair, attempting to cover her face from prying eyes.
“Awww, does someone have a hangover?” Pieck mocked her shorter friend, pulling on one of the rolled sleeves to her borrowed cardigan. “What’s that thing you always tell me?” The black haired warrior scratched her chin in a fake thoughtful motion. “Walk it off?”
She had moved the coffee cup and paperwork from its spot on the floor, resting it on the space opposite of Armin. Armin considered pouring a cup for himself, the steaming mug smelled fantastic.
“I’m never drinking again.” Jean groaned, rolling over the back of the couch and flopping face first into the cushions. He grabbed the blanket that was hung over the side, wrapping it around himself again.
Reiner chuckled, continuing with whatever he was making over the stove. Armin thought he smelled pancakes. “You said that last time.”
“This time I mean it”
“I think you’re full of it.” Connie rocked forwards on the recliner, reaching for his own coffee on the small table in front of him.
Jean covered his face with the blanket, voice muffled by the fabric. “Shut up.”
Pieck opened the fridge while swaying her hips, Annie groaned at the light cast from the refrigerator, pulling her sleeves further over her eyes. “What do you want to eat?” Pieck tossed the question over her shoulder, ignoring Annie’s discomfort.
“If I eat anything I’m going to puke.” Annie’s response was muted, face still pressed between the metal table and the knitted sweater.
“Tough shit, you’re eating something.” Reiner didn’t sound nearly as sympathetic as he did last night.
Armin reached over to take the notes Pieck had made, eyeing the female titan cautiously. “How are you feeling Annie?”
“Like I want to sleep for another four years.”
Connie cackled loudly from the other room, waking over to join the group at the table. Armin didn’t think the comment was nearly funny enough for that kind of response.
Pieck flattened a piece of blonde hair that stuck out sideways, kissing the crown of Annie's head. “Some food might help with that.”
As if on command, Reiner set a large plate down in the center of the table, “Bon appétit.” Stacks of fluffy pancakes were piled on top of the plate, steam rolling off the pastry discs in waves. Another plate quickly joined, clad with crispy bacon that made Armin’s mouth water.
“I’m making more, this is just the first batch, so eat whatever you like.” Reiner flattened out his apron before returning to the stove, grabbing his spatula to flip the remaining pancakes in his cast iron.
Annie finally raised her head, blinking bleariness from her eyes as she inhaled deeply. She rubbed her eyes with a yawn before reaching in front of her to take the pancake on the top of the pile. Of course she wakes up at the smell of food.
“I thought you said you couldn’t eat anything?” Pieck finally closed the fridge, carrying over strawberries they bought at the market the previous morning.
Annie didn’t answer, biting into the pancake with a sleepy face. Connie dragged one of the mismatched chairs back, throwing himself down in it, eyes locked on the food now in front of him.
“Get a plate.” Armin finally closed the journal he was reading from, slapping his friend's hand gently as she raised the pancake to take another bite.
The shifter ignored her friend while Connie grabbed a strawberry, tilting back in his chair and popping the fresh fruit into his mouth.
“We should get these more often.” He shoved another past his lips, rocking the chair on its back legs.
Pieck set five plates and a handful of silverware on the table, pulling a face at the other Eldian. “You know you’re not supposed to eat the green part, right?”
Connie swallowed loudly. “Yeah I know that.”
“Then why’d you eat it?” Reiner raised his spatula towards Connie, stacking another few pancakes on the table.
“I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“Nah uhh,” He argued childishly. “I didn’t eat the green part, because strawberries are red.” He stuck his tongue out in triumph, intertwining his hands over the back of his neck, stretching backwards again.
“You ate the stem.”
“And the leaves.”
Armin folded two pancakes on his plate, stabbing at the bacon with a fork. “It’s not like it’s going to kill him, it’s probably good for you. And now he’s not wasting any of it.”
“See? Armin gets it.” Connie ate another strawberry whole, chomping loudly in Pieck's direction.
“So you admit you ate it?”
Annie grumbled again, rubbing her face with the side of the cardigan sleeve. “It’s too early to argue about this.” Armin was impressed she finished her pancake so fast. She reached forwards to grab another, Pieck sliding a plate over without so much as a word.
“If you throw up I’ll kill you.” Jean had gotten off the couch and joined the group in the kitchen, resting a hand on Armin's shoulder as he grabbed a strawberry.
Annie disregarded his words and took another large bite from the pastry, not bothering to use the plate Pieck had supplied her.
“I got you a fork and a knife for a reason, Annie.” Pieck set the cutlery on the plate with a clatter, moving the butter from the fridge to the table. “Use them.”
Reiner flopped another few slices of bacon onto the plate before sitting down as well, shoveling pancakes onto the platter Pieck set in front of him. Connie had three pancakes stacked together, drowning his butter slathered breakfast in maple syrup.
“Don’t use it all.” Jean grumbled, taking the tube away from Connie and handing it to Armin.
Armin grimaced at the sticky sides of the bottle, pouring syrup over his own breakfast, although not nearly as much as Connie had. While Jean pulled one of the clean coffee cups from the cabinet, reaching towards the pot of coffee on the counter.
No one said much of anything for a while, all silently enjoying Reiner's food. Annie had started sipping out of Pieck's coffee after the second pancake, the cart titan let her without much of an argument.
“So,” Connie swallowed the food he had shoved into his mouth, finally finishing his breakfast. “What time are we getting there?”
Armin had already started stacking the empty plates on top of each other, “Well since we left late, probably close to midnight.”
“So I have time to go back to bed?” Jean grumbled into his coffee, the plate in front of him empty.
Armin set the dishes in the sink, where Reiner was already washing his own plate. “No, we still have things to do before we get there.”
“Like what?” Jean picked at something in his teeth, putting his chin in the palm of his hand.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe writing the treaty that will stop another war.” A loud huff of air followed by the clattering of porcelain. Armin shot Jean a pointed look, taking the man's plate and adding it to his growing pile. “We are ambassadors for peace Jean, It’s kind of our job.”
Jean carefully avoided eye contact, “Okay yeah, good point.”
“I thought we already wrote our part for that?” Pieck chirped, visible confusion creasing her eyebrows. “I was just checking for like spelling and vocabulary stuff in my speech, I didn’t know I was supposed to be writing more stuff. ”
“Oh my god.”
“You’re so fucking stupid, Pieck.”
“Someone needs to go back to bed.”
Armin slapped Connie, making the man choke momentarily on the food he was scarfing down. “Don’t be rude! Have you even finished writing your own speech?”
“Nah. But I’ll get it done.” Connie coughed, eyes watering as he swallowed down the food he had just choked on. “Scouts honor. Shinzou sasageyo or whatever.”
“Oh Eldia is so screwed.”
Jean folded his hands in front of his face, laughing. “There’s no way Paradis’s signing this treaty.”
Reiner shrugged his shoulders, looking over from where he had started to wash dishes in the sink. “My speech is done.”
“That’s because Annie wrote yours.” Pieck snapped.
Neither Annie nor Reiner denied the accusations.
“Are we having dinner on the boat, or when we get home?” Connie leaned back in the chair again, stretching his hands over his head.
Pieck took Connie's plate, joining Reiner at the sink. “We’re not having dinner at midnight, Connie.”
“How are you already thinking of food, we just finished eating?” Pieck took her cup back from Annie, staring in bafflement at the man. Connie shrugged, leaning back in his chair again, tipping it from post to post carelessly.
Annie pulled herself up out of the chair, tying up her unkempt hair in her signature tight bun. Armin didn’t really think she could call it her “signature style” anymore after the undercut Connie gave her, and the fact that Armin had started tying his hair up as of recently too.
She blew her bangs out of her hair, Armin deemed it unnecessary as they floated back into the same position they were moments prior. “I’m heading outside, call me when you want me to read over something.”
No one stopped her from exiting the room. Another heavy wave rocked the ship as the group passed each other a shared look.
“Go talk to her.” Reiner took the rest of the plates from Armin's hands.
Armin sputtered, reaching forwards the grasp at the dishes again. “What, no. I talked to her about it enough last night. It’s your turn.” He really didn’t want to start another Hitch conversation so close to the last one. He was going to have enough problems to deal with when they got there, he wasn’t too keen on getting an early start.
The taller shifter held the dirty platters high above his head and out of Armin’s reach. “She won’t talk to me about it.” Reiner's face twisted into worry, brow tightly knitted. “And I know she’s upset, last night proved that. So could you just talk to her about it, give her one of your heartfelt speeches or something.”
“I haven’t seen her this mopey since she was trying to kill us.” Jean pointed out, opening the fridge to put away the strawberries and butter. Pieck hummed in agreement, drying off a freshly washed plate.
Armin sighed heavily, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Fine. But I can’t promise it’s going to help with anything.”
Connie gave him a thumbs up, “Good luck man.”
Pieck tipped the back of his chair, setting it on all four legs once again. “Go put on some damn pants.”
Armin paced out of the room, trying to come up with a good way to bring up the ever present conversation at hand. While Connie groaned, leaving in the opposite direction and heading towards the bedrooms.
A gust of salty wind almost threw him back into the hallways, unimpeded bright light nearly blinding him. Armin pushed his glasses up against the warm breeze, vision blotchy as he opened his eyes once more.
Annie stood at the bow of the ship, elbows pressed firmly down into the railing, leaning forwards as if to breathe in more of the fresh ocean air. She was gripping the letter again, ignoring the wide expanse of water that lay in front of her and rereading Hitch’s words with the same conviction and longing as she had last night.
Armin scuffed his boots along the wood as he joined Annie at the helm, gazing off into the water.
The ocean never failed to amaze and astound him, no matter how many times he saw it. He read every book of ocean life in his collection more times than he could count, and yet he still knew so little. Never in a hundred years did he imagine the world beyond the walls was this big.
“Sooo…” If they didn’t start talking now, they never would. “How’s that hangover treating you?”
Annie groaned loudly, resting her forehead against the railing. Her hair was still all over the place, spilling out of the hair tie, the wind whipping past them didn’t help her case. “Don’t even get me started.”
Armin chucked to himself, breathing in the fresh mid-morning air. He finally pulled his eyes away from the unfathomable crystalline waves, now drawn to the cardigan that was wrapped around his friend. “Are you going to change or…”
Annie looked down at her outfit, pulling at Pieck's cardigan. “What’s wrong with this?”
“You really want to see Hitch wearing a cardigan and athletic shorts?” Starting off strong, as usual.
She wrapped the knitted sweater snug around herself against the stiff wind, pulling the letter closer to her chest. “I think the cardigan’s growing on me.”
“You’re starting to sound like Reiner.”
Annie still had the look of general disinterest. “Okay that’s too far. I’m hurt, truly.”
Armin tightened his mouth before sputtering out a laugh, as much as he missed his banter with Mikasa, there was something about talking with Annie that always seemed to make him smile. She had opened up in the past few years, that was fairly obvious. It had become less of a chore to try to get a string of words resembling a conversation out of her.
“Do you really think we can pull this off?” Annie pulled Armin out of his laughter, elbows against the railing once more.
Armin breathed in deeply, salt air filling his lungs once more. “I think so. I haven’t failed you guys yet, and I don’t intend to any time soon.”
“I’m really bad at this, Armin.” Annie sighed. “I tried. I really did. But fuck- it’s been three years and I am still not good at this.”
He really didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Of course he knew, and she already knew he did as well. "At least you're still trying."
Their conversation fell into an easy silence, only broken by crashing waves and far-off cries of gulls. Both parties went back to staring across the sea, enjoying the view.
“I’m scared, Armin.” Annie started hesitantly, pulling back into their exchange. The smile on her face was short lived.
The last time he heard her say that was in Stohess, before all hell broke loose, the end of an era. Armin tore his eyes away from the ocean; he watched Annie struggle to find the words he already knew.
“I’m scared to see Hitch again.”
Armin nudged her gently with his shoulder, shifting to watch an arrow of birds in the distance. “Well, whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, you’ve still got us, right? I know these past few years have been… different, but we’re not enemies anymore. Whether you talk to her or not, you still have people to fall back on, no one’s going to leave you alone again. Although, you will get bullied relentlessly by the others if you bail out on the whole Hitch thing, Pieck and Connie will make sure of that.”
“Yeah I figured.” She sighed heavily, pushing bangs behind her ear. “And thank you Armin, I’ll try.” Her voice was monotone, unbothered. But Armin could hear the shakiness in the back of her throat.
Armin didn’t think he was worried about the coming problems anymore. Connie was right, a night off had cleared his head, it was just what he needed. Their end of the treaty was already finished and approved, sent off to Paradis months prior. All that was left was to finalize their personal speeches, they weren’t nearly as behind as he was panicking about last night.
His words had never failed him, everything always had a way of working out for the better. Historia would agree with the terms, he knew she would. She was a kind person, had a good heart through and through. She wasn’t going to allow another war for Paradis, not while she was in charge.
Armin smiled to himself, gazing out across the water. It was almost as though the ocean breathed, the waves rising and falling into the sides of the ship with rhythmic ease. It calmed the aching doubts and anxieties in his mind. Armin hoped he was right. He hoped the three years this ragtag group spent traveling a world after the rumbling hadn’t been for nothing.
Maybe after their alliance conference succeeded, he'd allow himself to play matchmaker. After everything that happened, at least one of them deserved a good ending. Meddling with something he knew was bound to happen eventually didn’t seem nearly as stressful as the rest of his worries.