Return to sender

Significance

Thursday arrived with wind and rain, sideways droplets pelting your coat as you rushed back from an early lunch break, hunger not allowing you to wait until midday. The boys didn't mind, way too busy in the back room doing whatever the fuck they did in there and you shook down once inside, water spraying in all directions as you hung your outerwear on a peg, tangled hair run through before eating. At the desk which no one normally used, one which had become your kind of base now, the sandwich was unwrapped and you ate with urgency, stomach thanking you as the latest letter from Levi lay in front of your gaze. It arrived this morning but the instructions on the back demanded no opening until lunch had been had, orders queried by text. All that resulted in was a smug sense of knowing from the man and you gave up in the end, turning to your usual chat instead.

Swallowing the last bit down, you swiftly tore into your missive and read with as much speed as your meal had been dispatched, eyes starved and needing to see what awaited.

'Dearest (F/N),

I did understand what you meant about the rain and it wasn't crazy, was actually kind of sweet and trust me, I never call anything fucking sweet so feel honoured. Also, may I say it was equally enjoyable spending that day with you, and all the other times we've spoken since, even if you did hug your laptop *cough weirdo cough*'

His little doodle appeared to be a laughing face but again, it wasn't entirely discernable and you smiled, tracing the lines in unintentional imitation of his own actions when your last letter had reached him.

'Moving on, thank you. You have no idea how much of a blessing your gifts were. That pissy little office has never smelt so delicious or tasted so good, and I have no trouble telling you that I almost ate the whole pack in one go. I know I thanked you already, but my actual speech is perhaps a little less eloquent in comparison to when I have the time to think and write before shit comes out. And (F/N)? I know you have your own little stash of that tea, sneaky devil.

So my next 'gift', if you see it that way, is this - on the back, you'll find a list. A shopping list to be more precise. If you're free on Saturday night (which I know you are because I already asked you), would you care to cook dinner with me? I can show you some moves, introduce you to your kitchen again because (F/N)? The only thing I've seen you eat was fucking abhorrent and for that, you deserve punishment - a master class with the grumpy ass chef himself.

Yours with unending gratitude for not calling the police on the weird stalker who keeps bothering you,
Levi

PS when I say 'tomatoes', get some good fuckers. None of that cheap shit. Nice big round juicy tomatoes.'

Giggling at his enthusiasm over a salad item, you turned the sheet to see what awaited you, comprehensive list annotated with more instructions around purchasing the correct produce. Some scribbles suggested the exact colour for certain things, others apologised for the cost, only top grade ingredients need apply. A herd of butterflies invaded your stomach, spilled upwards until your chest felt like it would explode in excitement - this would be incredible.

Bangs and the sound of a strained machine filtered through, Eren's shriek of rage accompanying the deafening noise and Jean emerged, head shaking slowly but smile on his face.

"(F/N), you'd better get in there. I think he's gonna punch it."

"No worries. You get off, you've got an exam to do!" All of his studies were coming to a head, coursework completed and the final test was almost upon him, day up until now spent as normal to try and allay any nerves. As usual, your friend waved it off, fear or trepidation dismissed with a superior air.

"Ha, I'll ace that shit. Just you see."

"I know you will Jean. But being late won't help! Now go! Scoot!"