𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚔//ᴍᴏʙʟɪᴛ ʙᴇʀɴᴇʀ

1. Wednesday

"Ah, Mrs Berner? Do you have time for a drink?"

Being a waitress at one of the most popular bars in Wall Rose meant many things; it meant that there was never a moment's rest, it meant that there was never any silence, and it meant that you had to be prepared for just about anything someone who's had a bit too much to drink could throw your way.

And while you had grown to be exceptionally good with that third part, it still surprised you when someone gently grabbed onto your hand, calling out your name as you were starting to head your way home for the night, 'I really hope they're not the type to get physical or upset easily,' you told yourself, already feeling your headache -that had settled in throughout the course of your prior shift- nearly double at the thought, 'That's the last thing I need right now.'

Putting on the best fake smile you could conjure, you turned to the person and tried to lightly tug your hand out of their hold, "I'm sorry, bu-"

'What...?'

It startled you to see that sitting at the table, instead of some regular or stranger that you had never seen before, was your husband of a year -an almost knowing look on his face as he looked to you with a small grin, "Don't you have any time for me?"

You had to blink once or twice before you could return the male a curve of your own lips, "Actually, I believe I do. Besides, it'd be nice to sit at a bar instead of working at one all the time." you giggled slightly, pulling out a chair at the same table and opting to sit across from him, "How's your day been?"

The man partially grimaced as he recalled how his day had gone, verbally wincing as his eyes smally squinted, "I won't lie to you, it's been stressful... Hange's been trying to get closer to those titans everyday to try and figure non-contact ways to kill them, I don't even want to think about how many grey hairs I have just because of them." Whether or not he was aware of it, his right hand trailed up to his caramel locks and slightly tousled them, his brows knitting together just as he thought about the squad leader that had supposedly given him multiple near-heart attacks -based on the stories he's told you, "And not only that, but they're also talking about getting more titans for experimentation, and I don't know if I can handle another Sonny And Beane-"

As he started to talk more, his eyes widened smally and his speech picked up in pace -a clear sign to you that the man was stressed out- and you, not wanting to see your husband in such a state, gently put your one hand on top of his as you stopped his rambling with a gentle smile, "Mob," you addressed him, calling him by his nickname and pausing slightly before picking back up your thought, "It's ok, you'll be fine, and they'll be fine."

"Yeah..." he trailed off, tenderly taking your hand into his bigger one as he gave a nervous grin, "I suppose you're right, I just get so caught up in all of it sometimes."

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" came a voice, one you recognised sounded from a fellow college once you turned your (E/C) hues up to theirs -someone who you didn't know well, but vaguely recalled running into them once or twice while on shift.

"No, no," you reassured, turning to them partially as you watched them then flip through one of their notebooks they -and all staff- carried on them to take orders, "Now is perfectly fine, right Moblit?"

"Certainly," he spoke, a closed-eye curve present on his lips before he answered the servant's unspoken question, "I'll take a Whiskey Sour, if you don't mind."

"Of course, and you miss?

"I'll just take water, please."

"Ok..." they replied as they scribbled it down on paper, the sound just reaching your ears through all of the chatter that was echoing about the tavern, "Is that all?"

Your partner sent you a look, wordlessly asking if you wanted anything else to eat or drink -and he only responded to them once you shook your head smally at him, telling him that you were fine with just water, "Yes, thank you."

"Thank you sir, miss, I'll have your drinks ready in a moment."

They pocketed their journal and pencil in their apron's pocket -the article of clothing matching on that you had very recently worn yourself- before they headed off, either to deliver the order to the baristas, or to prepare the drinks themselves.

You only remembered that Moblit was still holding your hand when he gave it a light squeeze, capturing your attention when you faced the honey-haired male, "Are you feeling ok?"

"Hm? Why?"

"You usually get something alcoholic to drink, even if you don't finish it all." he noted, looking at you in a small concern that made your heart melt.

"Well, my head hurts a little. I think I'm just tired, but I'd rather not drink while I'm not already feeling that well."

"Do you want to go home early?"

"Nah, it's not that bad." you assured with a sourire.

Wednesday he had surprised you at work.

Ehhhhhh, here's my second attempt at writing something here you go lmfao