Don't Move

Don't Move - Oneshot

Why do I keep putting myself in situations like this? How do I keep ending up here, with him, those thoughts swirling around in my head like an unrelenting storm?

Wow, Levi. Way to wax poetic about a teenaged boy. Ugh.

It's not exactly that I choose to be in these situations. It's more like I don't stop them when they happen. I have the power, the authority, to make him do what I say. I'm not sure if it's respect or fear (why do I so badly hope it isn't fear), but the Brat does whatever I tell him, and probably would even without my rank.

So, if I have the means to escape this, to stop this, why do I constantly allow it to happen? I even have the desire to make it stop (shut it, I'm not in denial), so why do I let it go on?

Why do I let that Brat do this to me?

Training today had been rough. Not really, not for me, but for everyone else it had been. Some of the soldiers have actually been progressing, as surprising as that might be, and they were starting to make it more difficult to kick their asses.

More difficult. Not hard.

Regardless, I managed to finish the training session with a few scrapes. I'd be mad if I wasn't actually impressed that anyone had really managed to land anything on me (and we're brave enough to actually do it). I had made my way back to my office and taken off my cravat and shirt to clean myself up. The Brat had suddenly burst in with some important message from Eyebrows, but he had stopped short when he saw that Captain Levi of the Survey Corps was actually capable of bleeding. Surprising, I know, since that means my blood can't be as cold as everyone thinks it must be, and I must have a heart (of some sort) to pump it through my body.

So, once he regained command over his body and the ability to move, he rushed over and started fussing aver ever little scrape. Even if it wasn't bleeding it needed a freaking bandaid.

Naturally, being the manly man that I am, I couldn't just let the Brat patch me up. If he was going to fuss, so was I. So I fussed right back. I pulled away and swatted his hands and insulted him and cursed worse than a sailor (whatever that is), but the Brat would not give up. He'd just say, "Don't move, Captain," and get back to it. Why does the kid always have to be so darn stubborn?

Still, if someone thought I was just going to let him do it just because he told me not to move...

They'd be right.

Yeah, I know. Weak. But I don't care. I just can't help it. His hands are warm, and his pouty little concentration face is adorable, and he is so focused on me, and his body is so close to my body. How the hell am I supposed to resist that?

Exactly. I'm not. You couldn't have either.

I don't really get it. Under any circumstance, I always have full control over myself. My anger, fear (not that I get that feeling often), annoyance, hatred, or any other emotion is easily dealt with. Even when fighting Titans I still do perfectly fine. I don't freeze up and I don't panic and I can still think and move and fight and plan, etc.

So why, all of a sudden, do I lose the ability to so much as think when Eren - the Brat, Jaegar, whatever - is touching me? Why do I get butterflies in my stomach (ugh, so cheesy)? Why do I lean in to his touch, and crave it when it's not there? Why do I want to be nice to him (heaven forbid I ever actually am nice)? Why do I want to lock him in my office and keep him all to myself, regardless of how illogical that would be? Why do I want to abuse my power and authority and the obvious respect (or fear) that he has for me to get something more from his touch than treatment for a few minor cuts?

Shit.

I know exactly why.

My head jerks when the thought - the realization - comes to me. The damp towel draggs on my scraped skin. The Brat - Eren - hisses and gives me a look of exasperation. "Don't move, Captain."

I can't help it. "I have to."

He gives me a strange look. "What do you mean, Heichou?"

Stop, Levi, you shouldn't. "I have to move, Eren."

His eyes widen when I say his name. "Why?"

I lick my lips. Why am I doing this? Ruining this- this whatever it is that we have? "Because if I don't move I can't do this."

I wrap my fingers around the wrist of the hand he is using to clean the scratch on my cheek, pulling slightly so he moves it away, and my other hand comes up to cup the side of his head. My forehead leans on his and I look back and forth quickly between his lips and his beautiful, expressive, green eyes. I've done all of this so fast, so fluidly, that he hasn't even had time to notice anything has changed. The shock, and potential horror, that is soon to come hasn't entered those eyes yet and it's beautiful.

"Don't move, Eren," I whisper.

Then I kiss him.

He is frozen for a moment before he closes his eyes. He drops the towel and I hear it hit the ground, but only faintly. It is vague and far away because now Eren is kissing me back. His lips are moving against mine and his fingers are sliding against my undercut, the tips wrapped in strands of my hair, tugging lightly.

I can't remember why I was trying to stop myself earlier. I don't know why I didn't do this sooner. I know it has to be a secret, because no one can know about this - they wouldn't let us stay in the Corps - and I know that it won't be easy. I know that I'm a hard person to be close to, and I know that I won't make it easy on Eren, no matter how much I love him (shit, did I just use that word? Oh no, I did). But from the passion he's kissing me with, I think he doesn't mind. I think he doesn't care. I don't care either. It doesn't matter how hard it all will be, not in this moment, because in this moment I am kissing Eren and Eren is kissing me.

And it's so worth it.

I pull away because we both need to breathe and he looks at me with wide eyes, an expression of awe on his face. "C-captain?"

I almost smile. I stop myself, not because I don't want to but because I can't remember how, but I let my eyes and my face soften as I search his eyes. With the slightest twitch of my lips, I bend over and pick up the towel he had dropped. I hand it to him and he takes it, confusion still marring his features (I say marring, but really it just looks so cute).

Before he can get back to it, I quickly lean up and kiss him again, the slightest, shortest peck, and then I'm still again, waiting for him to continue.

He raises an eyebrow for a second before he surprises me by smirking. He looks away and shakes his head slightly, a small smile and quiet chuckle the only thing telling me I didn't screw up. He sighs and looks back and me before lifting the towel again. "Don't move, Captain."

I nod.

He smirks again and leans forward. I think he is getting closer so he can better see the scrape on my cheek, but at the last second he changes direction and he's kissing me. Now I'm kissing back and I'm breathless because he takes my breath away so easily.

We're still kissing and the towel is on the floor again. His arms are around my neck and mine are around his waist and we are so, so close.

Don't move, I whisper against his lips before trailing mine over his jaw.

Don't move, he says shyly as he starts unbuttoning my shirt.

Don't move, I saw as I pick him up easily and carry him into the connecting room where my bed is.

After, we lie there together. I sigh contentedly, but he takes it differently. He starts to get up, to leave, thinking that was all I wanted.

I wrap my arm around his waist and pull.him back to me. He looks at me with confusion, but I have him lie back down and hold him tighter. Now both my arms are wrapped around him, my leg thrown over both of his, and my head rests on his chest.

Don't move, I whisper. It's more of a request, a plea, than anything else. He seems to understand this and he smiles warmly and nods.

We don't move again for a while.