I Don't Belong Here (Levi x reader)

The Door

About two weeks has pasted since Mikasa has been training me. I learn it quickly, the step movements and how to control the blades through the air. I learn to block and throw a punch and a kick. Levi would be proud, if only he were ok with this. Maybe I could show him how good I've gotten, and then he'll be more understanding. Probably not, though.

It's nearing nightfall and I run a bath for myself. I've been training hard and decided to give myself a break. After all, there's only so many cuts and blisters my hands can take.

I step into the steaming water, and slowly submerge myself completely. I let my hair float under the water as I run my hands through it, untangling the knots gently with the tips of my fingers. I come up and rest my head on the side of the tub. I sigh, closing my eyes. My hands sting from the hot water on the tender blisters and semi open cuts, but I relax into it. Soon I've dazed off, not a thought in my mind.

I'm startled by a knock at my quarter door, and quickly get out to dry off. "One minute!" I yell to the knocker, then slip into a short bathrobe that I tie around myself and fasten with a sash. My hair is still slightly dripping, so I ring it out over the bed of water in the tub; I'll drain it later.

"(L/N)!"

My face goes pale, my stomach turns. It's Levi, and he sounds angry.

"I... I need just one more moment, hold on."

"(L/N) open the door." He says, a little more calmly but still as angry somehow. Almost desperate.

"Captain I-" I say, trying to stall him as I rummage around the room for something more appropriate for an audience with Captain Levi.

"Don't make me come in there..." He warns. Fuck it. I tighten my sash and whip the door open. He lets himself in, not breaking eye contact with me as he stalks into the room. He slams the door shut behind him and I nearly bump into the little table beside my bed.

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice trembling. I hope Mikasa didn't fold and tell him.

"Hange told me she saw you injured."

"I-injured?" I ask, tilting my head to the side in confusion. I feel fine. Or so I thought, until he looks me up and down intensely and grabs my wrist, almost seeming angry at the blisters and cuts I put on my own hands.

"Who did this to you?" He asks, a growl behind his voice. My stomach tightens. Why does he care? What would he do to them if someone really had done this to me?

"Nobody..." I say, trying to release my hand from his grasp.

"I don't believe you. Tell me who hurt you, (L/N)." He says, his face going from furious to concerned.

"Captain, really, it's not what you think. I'm fine, I'm just clumsy..."

I try to lie but of course I can't fool him. He takes a sigh, then exhales defeatedly. He looks back up at me, finally letting go of my wrist. It's cold all of a sudden from where his hands were a second ago. It shocks me, how my skin wishes it was still touching his. I tremble at the next thing he says to me.

"Sit."

"Huh?"

"Well if you're not going to tell me what happened, the least you can do is let me clean you up and bandage you properly."

"Oh... thank you, Captain."

I sit down in the chair beside me, and he goes to the bathroom sink to get a clean bowl of water and some rags. When he returns, he sets them on the table and scoots the chair under his seat and sits right in front of me. His shirt folds around his thin waist and his collar loosely hugs his collarbone. his knees brush up against mine, sending electric shocks across my bare skin. I get goosebumps when he doesn't change positions to avoid touching me.

I take a deep breath in as the hot water on the rag meets my skin, and wince at the sting. He pauses a moment, lifting the rag and looking at me to make sure I'm ok. I try to relax my face and give him a look that says to keep going.

His hand is soft and gentle while holding my wrist, being careful not to squeeze. A huge difference from when he first held it. He squeezes some of the hot water into the palm of my hand, letting it drip over the swollen scrapes and cuts on the tender part of my fingers. I sharply inhale and wince again.

He sets the rag down and strokes the inside of my wrist with his finger tip. "I know it hurts. Take a break for a moment."

I shut my eyes. Why is he being so gentle? So... careful and... touchy? I exhale slowly while he continues to draw circles on my wrist.

"Captain?" I ask after a moment, almost at a whisper. He seems to suddenly realize what he's doing, as if snapping out of a trance. He quickly dips the rag into the warm water and starts back up on my other hand.

"Don't." He says, referencing to the soft touches he was giving me.

Quietly, I ask, "Why not?"

"I shouldn't have done that."

"Then why did you?" He looks at me, his eyes unreadable.

"Are you going to tell me what happened to your hands?" He returns to.

"No." I say quietly, looking down at my clean hands, now puffy and pink from being so warm for so long.

"Then I guess neither of us are getting the answers we want." He says, standing. "I'm going to your medicine cabinet in your bathroom. Try not to move your hands."

He turns to do as he said he would, leaving me at the table for a moment. What was that? It's almost like he forgot who he was, who I was. Like it was just us and there was no tension or status difference. Like it didn't matter.

He returns with topical medicine and some bandages, and begins dripping it into the cuts on my hands to heal them.

"L... Captain?" He looks up at me but doesn't say anything. I take in a deep breath.

"I'll tell you what happened if you tell me why you became so intimate with me for a moment."

His lips part slightly, taking in a small sharp breath. He nods at me, leaning forward a little.