Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/897338.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Armin_Arlert/Eren_Jaeger
  Character:
      Armin_Arlert, Eren_Jaeger, Mikasa_Ackerman
  Additional Tags:
      Unresolved_Sexual_Tension, Canon_Divergent, Manga_Spoilers, More_tags
      later, Hand_Jobs, Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-25 Updated: 2013-07-30 Chapters: 2/4 Words: 10394
****** On the Other Side of the Fence ******
by Homicidal_Whispers_(HomicidalWhispers)
Summary
     When Eren asks Armin to make the decision for him to leave or stay
     after he is witnessed transforming, Armin makes a different call.
     Instead of turning himself into the military, he escapes over the
     wall. But, either way, Armin won't let Eren leave him and Mikasa
     behind. Basically a What If fic
***** They Travel *****
The air is filled with dense, acrid smoke and Armin feels like he can’t
breathe. Eren and Mikasa stare at him, waiting for him to speak, putting their
fates into his hands. It is too tense and he is under too much pressure; he
can’t think like this.
He looks at their expectant expressions and thinks I’ll just have to think
while I talk, then.He cannot let them down. That isn’t an option.
“I could explain logically why you aren’t a threat, Eren,” he begins slowly.
“In fact your existence would give the military a tactical advantage. The
problem is that these people aren’t thinking rationally. They’re too
overwhelmed with fear to make the logical decision.”
Eren nods slowly, his eyes fixed on Armin’s. “I understand. I’ll have to leave
then.” His tone isn’t disappointed, only resigned. Armin doesn’t have to look
to know the expression Mikasa will have, the stubborn set to her jaw, the hurt
lurking in her eyes.
“But,” Armin continues, “you can’t leave us here, either.”
“What? You have to stay, it won’t be safe for you where I’m going!”
“Leave us behind if we can’t keep up, but we’re coming,” Mikasa snaps.
Eren opens his mouth to argue back but Armin forces his voice to be heard over
them both. “You can’t leave us behind because it’s not safe for us here.” As he
says the words, he knows they’re true. Eren looks dumbfounded, like the
possibility had never occurred to him, and Armin nods vehemently, knowing he’s
struck the one argument that can make him change his mind. Eren will not let
his friends get hurt, especially not on his behalf.
“What do you mean?” Eren asks.
“If you escape and leave us behind, the military will just capture Mikasa and
I,” he explains. “They’ve already seen us with you, they’ve seen us trying to
protect you. If you leave, they’ll try to get information from us by any means
they have available. Not even Mikasa can take down the hundreds of soldiers
they’ll send at us. Besides, you’ll become a wanted criminal. How will you get
the supplies you need if you can’t get inside the walls? At the very least,
you’ll need gas to operate your manoeuvre gear. Outside the wall is Titan
territory.”
“But how would we escape?” he asks, frustrated. “I could turn into a Titan
again, but it would make you two instant targets.”
“Your nose is bleeding, Eren,” Mikasa says. Eren looks at her in confusion and
scrubs at his face with the hem of his shirt. It comes back smeared red with
his blood. He hadn’t even noticed. Armin looks at his ragged face, his sunken
eyes, and the paleness of his complexion.
“I don’t think you could transform again right now, even if you wanted to,”
Armin says. “It’s taking a toll on your body. You need time to recover.”
“So what are we supposed to do, then?” Eren demands. “It’s the only way!”
The smoke is dissipating. Any minute it will be clear enough for the soldiers
to aim. They need to leave, and they need to leave now. Armin talks low and
fast. “We’ll use the smoke to escape before it disappears completely. They’re
going to expect us to go over the wall. Instead, we’ll follow the wall and
circle around them. The time it takes for them to realize what we did will give
us the time we need to get to one of the underground passages, which will lead
us quickly to a different part of the wall.”
“Where do we go from there?” Mikasa asks.
“There’s no time to worry about that for now, so just follow me!”
Eren and Mikasa nod their understanding. The smoke is clearing and visibility
is returning. Armin sees the captain raise his hand in signal. The soldiers
ready themselves and, as his hand falls, there is the bang-bang-bangof rapid
canon fire and the scent of gunpowder is in the air.
They are ready for it and dash away, to the side. As Armin had predicted, the
majority of the fire had been directed at the evaporating Titan body and up the
walls. It is easy to evade the rest. There is a moment of reprieve as the
soldiers reload, and it is enough for them to get away.
Mikasa and Eren stick close behind him as they rush away, trusting him to lead
them to safety. They enter the streets of the village, quiet and morose and
still in mourning. No one was prepared for the sudden breach into Trost and the
survivors are still in shock. The loud snickof their gear deploying and
rewinding and the whooshof spraying gas draws attention from civilians. They
point and even from his vantage in the air, Armin can see their fear. Behind
Wall Rose, many people have never seen soldiers at work before, but everyone
knows it is illegal to use the gear in the city unless the Titans are
attacking. He can’t stop to reassure them, though, not with the military
finally having recovered its bearings and pursuing them.
The next few moments are crucial to escaping successfully. They have a good
lead on their pursuers, but they cannot be seen going underground or they will
be surrounded when they emerge. Armin has never been the best at operating the
manoeuvre gear, but he grits his teeth and knows that if he messes up, all
three of them are done for. He pulls a tight turn around a corner and then goes
right again immediately after, so that he is going the way he just came from,
but on a different street. He lets the gear recoil and drops to the ground,
curling his body to land in a roll.
He hears two thuds right behind him, and for a moment he is elated; all three
of them made it here and landed safely. Still, he can’t stop quite yet. He
gives Mikasa and Eren a terse nod and then runs into the underground passage.
The soldiers typically use these passages to quickly transport supplies to the
walls. No one is here now, though. Everyone is at home with their families, or
dead.
Their steps echo as they walk down the dank, dark corridor. They’re too
cautious to speak, but it is quiet and there are no signs that they were
followed here. Armin’s plan, so far, has worked.
They’re lucky enough to come across a set of supplies, the condensed packages
intended for trainees going on overnight camping trips. Armin, Mikasa, and Eren
are familiar with them, having graduated not too long ago. It’s a stroke of
fortune; these things have gas canisters, food, tents – it’ll be enough to
support them for a while outside of the wall. They won’t have to venture back
inside for some time, enough time that the search for them will have died down.
There is no telling how much time has passed underground, but Armin is willing
to bet that it’s less than it feels like it has been. Mikasa edges out into the
sunlight and Eren and Armin meet eyes while they wait. She’s back soon, telling
them that there are no soldiers in sight. The three of them leave the
underground passage and are up and over the wall before anyone stops or
questions them. This part of the wall is fairly far away from Trost; far enough
that there are no Titans in sight, but not so far that they cannot hear the
sound of canons firing. Trost is lost, but thus far, the Armored Titan hasn’t
shown up and the Inhabitants of Wall Rose are safe.
“We’ll go to Tekkai, another outlying village like Trost was,” Armin explains
as he adjusts their course.
“Why there?” Eren asks.
“There’s nothing special about it,” he answers. “There’s no reason for them to
look for us there and we’ll be safe behind the walls. Even if the Armored Titan
shows up, if they continue to follow the pattern, they’ll attack Wall Rose
instead of another bait village. It’ll take a few days to get there, though, so
in the meantime we need to avoid being captured.”
“Or eaten,” Eren adds.
“Or eaten,” Armin amends.
===============================================================================
To get to Tekkai, they are forced to pass through a forest. It’s as good as
place as any; any one searching for them will have a hard time finding them in
the foliage. If any Titans come after them, they’ll have plenty of surfaces to
use for manoeurvring. Armin, as the only one who knows where they’re going,
takes the lead. He calls them to a stop quickly, though, claiming exhaustion.
Eren isn’t fooled, though. He’s seen the looks Mikasa and Armin have been
sending to each other, and he knows they are stopping for his sake. He is
reluctantly grateful for it. He’d never say anything about it, but he is very
fatigued.
They stop and set up a miniature camp. Armin goes to collect some wood while
they set up so that he can start a fire. “Should we take watches?” Mikasa asks.
Armin, ever sensible, shakes his head no. “We’d wake up from their footsteps
long before they arrive anyway.”
It isn’t quite night yet, but it has been a long day. They’ve faced down Titans
as soldiers for the first time today and they have each seen and faced death.
They have watched their comrades die. Without much talk, the three of them
mutually agree to head to sleep. They split into two tents, one for Armin and
Eren and the other for Mikasa. The separation is for space constraints rather
than for modesty, because Mikasa has none where they are concerned. These are
her brothers whom she’s known since the beginning of this new life. She’s
already taken off her jacket and is unbuckling the harnesses as she enters her
tent.
Eren allows Armin to precede him into their shared tent. It’s impossible to
sleep comfortably in the leather harnesses. They’re not necessarily difficult
to put on or take off – it’s a matter of arranging them properly and cinching
the buckles at their waist, hips, thighs, knees, and ankles – but most people
have discovered that it is certainly easier with someone else’s help. Armin and
Eren have gotten in the habit of helping each other in and out of it. Armin’s
sitting on the grassy floor, squirming as he tries to unbuckle the latches.
Without really thinking about it, Eren sits and draws him closer. He bats his
hands away and replaces them with his own, experience allowing him to deftly
find and undo the buckles quickly. Armin is obligingly still through the
process except when he moves to give Eren access to the next latch.
When he’s done, Armin shrugs out of the harness and sets it to the side. Then
he turns to Eren to return the favor, climbing astride his legs for the best
access. Armin pulls off Eren’s jacket and goes to the first buckle, at his
chest. Eren sighs, lies back and lets Armin manipulate his body. Now that he’s
finally had a moment of rest, he can recognize how truly tired he is, a bone
deep weariness from the excitement of the day and the shock of transforming.
Armin works swiftly, his movements diligent and certain. His hands remain
steady throughout. Eren has always liked his hands, their swiftness and their
accuracy. He writes like a scholar or a professional; his handwriting is much
more sightly than Eren’s chicken scratch. His hands are confident, dexterous,
nimble. They are soothing whenever they fall on Eren’s body.
Armin helps him to shuck off the gear, but he doesn’t stop there. His hands
return and begin to unbutton Eren’s shirt. Eren allows it; it’s not the first
time it’s happened and frankly, Eren feels so tired he doesn’t know if he’d
have the will to do it himself. He takes off the shirt and Eren lounges
comfortably under his friend’s gaze. Again, it is not the first time Armin has
seen this.
Armin shifts on his lap. His hands goes to his pants, undoes the belt and then
the buckle. Eren realizes absent-mindedly that he’s hard, but he can’t be
bothered to get embarrassed about it. He’s a teenager, he gets boners at
inopportune times and he’s ignored them before. Armin either doesn’t notice or
doesn’t care, but he doesn’t mention it. If Armin’s hand brushes against the
bulge while he pulls down the pants, neither of them say anything about it.
“Get some rest,” Armin tells him and it is a testament to how tired he is that
he goes to lay down instead of resisting the order. He spares a look at his
gear – it’s supposed to be re-oiled after each usage. Armin catches his look.
“It can wait until morning.” Eren nods in agreement, more relieved than
anything.
The packs they stole contain only blankets. The insulating sleeping bags are
reserved for members of the Recon Corps, who are often away for weeks and
months at a time. They need it more that trainees going on overnight trips, so
they are left with ratty blankets that don’t do much to keep out chills.
Luckily, it’s not too cold yet and it’s even better once Armin divests himself
of his clothes and adds his blanket to the pile.
Armin comes under the blankets when Eren’s already halfway gone, drifting
pleasantly on an ocean of exhausted bliss. He frowns sleepily.  “You’re cold,”
he murmurs. He draws Armin to his body, nestles his chest against Armin’s back,
wraps his arms around Armin’s front, shifts until their legs are intricately
intertwined.
“You have a fever,” Armin corrects. Still, he does not make to escape Eren’s
grasp and they are still like that when they fall asleep.
===============================================================================
They are still like that when they wake up the next morning, too, all wrapped
within each other. Eren can tell from the way Armin is breathing that he’s
already awake and has been for quite some time. It says a lot that Eren slept
in for so long; ever since his mother’s death and his father’s subsequent
abandonment, Eren has been an incredibly light sleeper.
Eren remains still for a beat longer, inhaling deeply where his head is pressed
into Armin’s neck. It’s meant to brace him for getting up, but instead he
catches a long whiff of Armin’s scent. He smells sweaty, but under that is the
familiar scent of ink and nutmeg, the new woodsy scent that came from spending
a night on the mossy ground.
Armin notices and laughs. “Good morning,” he says fondly.
“Morning,” Eren mumbles into his throat and presses an impulsive kiss into the
skin there.
Armin pats the hand wrapped around his waist. “I always liked you best half-
asleep.” He pulls himself up, ignoring Eren’s half-heartened groan of protest.
“Come on,” he says. He offers Eren a palm and drags him out of the tent. Armin
waits a beat too long before letting go and Eren suddenly realizes this is the
same arm that he lost saving Armin’s life.
Mikasa is lounging on a felled log, in just an undershirt and panties to match
the boys in their underwear. She nods to greet them without really looking in
their direction, poking listlessly at the embers of last night’s fire.
“There’s a river this way,” Armin says, gesturing. Eren has never been more
grateful for his bookish friend. There aren’t many books on geography to be
found, but Armin has devoured every one he could possibly get his hands on and
remembered it all. It has come in handy; Eren isn’t sure how he ever thought he
could survive on his own, without the two people closest to him. “We should
probably all go at once. After, we can eat and head for Tekkai again.”
Eren and Mikasa nod their approval of this plan. They return to their tents
momentarily for clothes and then they follow Armin to the river. They strip out
of their undergarments and enter the water. Eren remembers Jean’s reaction to
Mikasa, and her various suitors over the years. He doesn’t see anything that
interesting about her himself; objectively he can see that she has an
attractive body, a cinched waist and nicely-shaped tits, but he doesn’t see the
attraction. All he sees when he looks at her is a sister and is a little
weirded out by thinking of her as a sexual person.
Armin gets naked just as efficiently. He knows Armin’s body, too; they’ve been
friends too long to never have seen each other. There were communal baths at
the military training, after all, and it would be a lie to say they never
compared dick sizes. He’s aware that he doesn’t think of Armin the same way he
thinks of Mikasa. It would be false to say he’s not attracted to him, but it’s
okay. He’s never acted on it and he’s kept his hands to himself, and their
relationship has never suffered for it. He’s a teenager. He’s a little
attracted to anything and anyone.
Armin turns to him and lays a hand on his forehead. Eren feels a tug somewhere
deep in his gut. He frowns and, for a moment, Eren thinks it’s in response to
his less than appropriate thoughts before he speaks. “You’re still a bit
feverish,” he says.
Eren makes a noncommittal humming noise and turns away, heading into the water.
In his haste, he trips on a stone worn slippery smooth from years of water
running over its surface and lands face first in the river. It’s freezing cold.
It does wonders to wipe away any improper thoughts he may have been harboring
and if his fever doesn’t break after a bath in this, he’s sure nothing will get
his temperature down. Armin makes a noise that’s half amusement and half
concern and helps him up.
After they all bathe and clothe themselves, they return to their makeshift
camp. Eren and Armin bring out their gear and begin the maintenance they’d
skipped the night before: oiling the leathers, polishing the hinges, sharpening
their dulled blades, and checking over the gear for imperfections. Mikasa,
having done it the night before, slips away. She returns quickly with a couple
of rabbits. She skins them and removes the entrails and when she’s done, Armin
sets it on the fire. It’s a much nicer breakfast than military provisions would
have been.
After they eat, the next hour is dedicated to deconstructing camp and erasing
any trace that they had stopped there, just in case they are being tracked.
Then they collect some water for the trip. There’s a brief discussion over
whether they should proceed by foot or with their gear. The manoeuvre gear will
shave at least a day off of the trip, but they ultimately decide that they
should preserve the gas in case they come across Titans. Furthermore, the sound
might attract others, possible pursuers and Titans alike.
So they continue on foot, albeit wearing their harnesses so they can respond
quickly to an emergency. They leave early in the morning (although it is late
to them, having become accustomed to a military schedule) and continue walking
until it’s late in the evening. They forget to stop for food. It’s not because
they’re not hungry, but when with everyone so hungry, they have learned to keep
strict schedules where food is concerned so as to not over consume. However, it
is hard to discern how much time has gone by. The canopy of leaves above their
head is so dense that it blocks out nearly all light from the sun above.
Everything is green, green, vibrant green. The plants, the bugs, even the few
feeble rays of light that manages to get through appear green. It throws
shadows onto their surroundings, makes them see things that aren’t really there
and puts them unnecessarily on edge.
It also, Eren quickly realizes, paints the people green. Mikasa, with her dark
hair and dark eyes, gets away with only a little bit of color in her face, but
it does wonders on Armin. His blonde hair is shadowed by green and his eyes are
turned a darker, murkier shade of blue.
They finally stop when Eren confesses that he’s needed to piss for the past
several hours and everyone realizes just how late it’s gotten. There is no game
to be found tonight, so they eat the tasteless field rations and choke it down
with water. They undo their3-D manoeuvre gear and begin their maintenance in
each other’s company, playing a silly word game to pass the time.
After, they retreat back to their tent, Armin and Eren get undressed. Eren
doesn’t have the excuse of tiredness or fever to have Armin in his arms, and he
fights down the surge of longing he feels. It’s okay, though, because when
Armin joins him under the sheets, he presses himself against Eren without
comment. They’re face to face, chest to chest. Their breath mingles together
and their bare skin presses against each other in too many places. There’s no
way Armin can miss his erection this time, because each time he shifts, he is
brought into contact with it. He’s not made uncomfortable though, and he
doesn’t leave. Armin puts his arms around Eren’s back; Eren dares to let his
hands go to Armin’s tailbone, just above the swell of his butt.
Eren watches Armin’s eyes shut, concealing his brilliant gaze, and feels his
breath even out. He stares at the top of Armin’s head for a while. He cannot
remember when he falls asleep.
The next morning, after their bath, Armin continues debating the pros and cons
of using their gear. His blonde hair is still wet, sending droplets of water
cascading down his face whenever he moves. It is drying messily. For a moment,
Eren forgets himself and he leans forward to brush Armin’s damp bangs behind
his ears. He freezes mid-word and turns to look at him; Eren can’t fathom the
thoughts reflected in eyes. He carefully avoids looking at Mikasa, who has a
way of showing disapproval without saying much.
“I think we should take the chance,” he says to cover himself. “We’ll reach
Tekkai in a few hours if we use the manoeuvre gear and it’ll take us another
day and a half by foot. The choice is clear.”
“It’s been two days and we haven’t seen anyone following us,” Armin says
slowly.
“And who cares if a Titan comes?” Eren says. He grins, the slightly feral,
slightly mad look he gets whenever he thinks about Titans. “Let them come! I’ll
kill every last one of them!”
Armin looks reluctantly convinced and looks to Mikasa. “If we can’t handle it,
then we’ll just die,” she says reasonably and that, against all odds, does seem
to reassure him some.
There is a saying about famous last words, Eren reflects. He ought to have
learned by know that opening his mouth never leads to good things.
Just as Armin had speculated it would, the sound of the gear catches the
attention of the Titans in the vicinity. Soon after heading off, they hear the
pounding thuds of Titan footsteps following. Their gear is faster than they
are, so they attempt to keep ahead. If they can make it to Tekkai, they will be
safe behind the walls unless the Colossal Titan shows up.
But some of the Titans pursuing them are Abnormalities, one that runs faster
than the others and one with explosive jumps that propel him several meters at
a time. These two catch up to them first and it is either fight or be eaten;
really, there is no choice. Between the three of them, these two are quickly
taken care of, but the pause has allowed the rest to catch up.
And this is what they failed to consider. It isn’t one or two Titans after
them; it isn’t a group of them, like in Shiganshina or Trost; it is a swarm of
them. This is Titan territory. They are far outnumbered. Mikasa is an excellent
fighter and Armin comes up with brilliant tactics to hold them at bay, but they
will be overwhelmed. Sooner or later, they will run out of gas or their blades
will dull too much to be of any use and there will be still more Titans after
them.
A 15-meter class tugs at Mikasa’s wire, immobilizing her in midair. A 7-meter
class plucks her out of the air. Eren can see her eyes widen with momentary
fear before she collects herself and hacks at the Titan’s hand, allowing her to
drop to the ground. Eren slices away the nape of the 15-meter while Armin takes
down the 7-meter, giving her time to catch her breath and launch back into the
air.
That had been too close. They can’t afford another close call like that. He
puts his hand to his mouth and bites down hard, no hesitation. Thick, coppery
blood flows into his lips and over his tongue, a taste that he despises but is
beginning to be very familiar with. He waits a beat, two beats, but nothing
happens.
Armin, up on a tree branch goes still. He is surrounded – a 7-meter on either
side, a 15-meter behind him and Mikasa fighting another 15-meter in front of
him. On the ground, two 4-meter class Titans wait, pawing at the trees and
preventing him from escaping downward. Eren barely notices the Titan behind
him, breathing down his throat and jaw opening wide. All he sees is Armin,
frozen on the battlefield. He isn’t shaking, the way he was the last time, but
his eyes flicker to each side desperately. Eren knows that he sees no way out
of this.
On auto-pilot, Eren wheels around the Titan on his trail, gets behind him and
slices its neck open. Its blood arcs into the air, shimmers on his clothes and
evaporates into so much smoke. Eren roars. He has to protect Armin.
He doesn’t notice that he no longer has a human body. He doesn’t notice
anything at all. He has to get to Armin and everything else is a nuisance sent
to distract him. He will get rid of all annoyances so he can get to Armin. He
kicks aside the 3-meter clawing at his feet and advances, his eyes locked on
the tree where Armin is.
It happens in a split second. One moment he is several meters away. He sees the
15-meter open its mouth, exhale putrid breath, and reach for Armin. The next,
he is at the tree, the Titan’s head is sailing through the trees, and his arm
is smoking.
He turns to Armin and roars. Armin clings to the tree for balance, his blond
hair whipping around him in the wind, droplets of spittle landing on his
clothes. Then, cautiously, he steps off the branch. For a moment, he drops, but
he lands safely in Eren’s cupped palm. He scrabbles up Eren’s good arm, the
other still regenerating, and comes to a rest on one broad shoulder.
“Mikasa,” Armin yells. His voice fades in and out. Eren can’t quite make sense
of the words. There is something he needs to remember. What is it? “Eren will
get us out of here, come on!”
Another human lands in his line of sight. He screams at her. This is not Armin.
He feels Armin move from his shoulder and climb around to his face, hanging off
his head so they could stare eye to eye. His presence is irritating, but he
cannot bat this one away. He has to protect Armin, not hurt him.
“That’s Mikasa!” Armin yells at him. “She’s family! She’s your family.”
Eren tries to focus, tries to listen to Armin’s words, but it is like tuning
into a bad radio station; all he gets is static and confusion. “Mikasa?” he
tries.
“That’s right, Mikasa,” Armin repeats firmly. “Family. She’s your family, just
like me. The three of us, we’re a family. We’ve got no one else. Do you
remember?”
“Family,” Eren repeats. “Family.”
“You love her, just like I love you,” Armin tells him. Eren tries to focus on
his words, certain they’re important. “I love you. Do you remember that?”
Eren stares at him and then shifts his gaze to the girl. He kneels, lets his
hand fall palm up and waits for her to hop on. Then he raises himself back up,
sets her down on his shoulder. There’s something he needs to remember. He needs
to do something. He turns and looks back into the fray. There are Titans, just
like him, all around. He needs to do something. He opens his mouth and howls at
them, a roar that can be heard miles away and cows the smaller ones into
submission.
“That way!” Mikasa yells in his ear, pointing. That’s right, Eren remembers. He
needs to escape. But there are Titans in the way.
As if they sense him hesitate, he hears a series of thunks in his back as they
secure themselves to his body with their manoeuvre gear. Satisfied, he turns in
the direction Mikasa indicated. There’s a Titan in his way, but it’s slow,
stupid. He kicks it in the shin and it goes falling like an anchor in water,
overcome by gravity. He stomps on its neck; its head separates with a sickening
squelch, but Eren can’t pay any attention to that right now. There is another
in its place already.
So he kicks and he punches and he fights like he’s never fought before. At some
point, he goes crashing to the ground but he struggles back to his feet and
continues ahead. They’ve reached the edge of the forest. This is good, Eren
thinks vaguely. He’s pretty sure this is a good thing.
“They’ve stopped!” Armin shouts. Eren supposes it’s true, or Armin would not
have said it. He takes a moment to look behind him. The Titans have indeed
stopped – not a single one takes a step out of the forest. They cover their
eyes, making moaning sounds, groaning like they’re in pain, but they stay in
the forest.
Eren turns back around and continues walking, taking step after trudging step
away from the forest and the Titans and the danger. He’s got to escape. He’s
got to keep walking. He falls to his knees. He struggles to get up again, but
he cannot. His vision is blinking away, going black at the edges.
“We’ve got to cut him out,” he hears, but the voice is muddled, like his head
is stuck under several gallons of water. And then he’s gone.
***** They Talk *****
Chapter Summary
     Eren and Armin have a talk. It ends in sex.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The first time Eren wakes up, it is dark outside. He looks about the room he is
in, trying to identify his surroundings, but he doesn’t recognize the place. He
is in a bedroom, it seems, and he is lying in a bed, tucked under several
blankets. It is stiflingly hot, but when he tries to remove them, his body
won’t cooperate. In some corner of his mind, he thinks he should be more
alarmed about his inexplicable inability to move, but as it is, his mind is too
muddled for him to be more than vaguely concerned.
Armin is slumped in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, drawn as close to
the bed as can be allowed. One of his hands is clutching at one of Eren’s, his
grip firm even in his sleep. He’s not still, though; he shifts and turns,
making small noises. He’s restless; having a nightmare, maybe. Armin will
probably want to know that he is awake, but he can’t move and he can’t call
out. Soon, he drifts back to sleep.
The second time he wakes up, it is only for a few seconds. It is just long
enough for him to catch a glimpse of Mikasa’s dark hair and her eyes widening
when she sees him. “Eren?” she says.
“Mi…kasa,” he manages. The world starts to dip and spin and he struggles to
focus on her. It is no good, though. His head flops back and within moments he
is once more unconscious. After his sight has already gone, the last thing he
hears is Mikasa running for the door, calling Armin’s name.
The third time that he wakes up is the first time that he is able to stay up
for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Armin is next to him, back in the
same chair, but he stands quickly once he notices that Eren’s awake, moving
away rather than closer. Mikasa is in the room too, he sees, but further back,
like she’s trying to stay out of the way.
Eren struggles to sit up, gratified to realize that he once again can move his
body of his own accord. His throat is parched and he’s positively soaked with
sweat. He tries to shove off the excess blankets but Armin comes back and stops
him. “I know it’s uncomfortable,” he says, “but we really need to break this
fever. Leave it on for now?”
Eren doesn’t want to, but he knows that Armin is only asking him to do what’s
best for his health in the long run. When he stops fussing with the bedding,
Armin smiles and holds out the cup of water that he had gone to retrieve.
Evidently, he had known that Eren would be thirsty. Armin guides the cup to his
mouth and tilts it carefully, letting Eren drink his fill before setting it
aside. Then he sits back in the chair and clasps his hand. Mikasa approaches
quietly and sits on the edge of the bed. When Eren offers her his other hand,
she takes it.
“How much do you remember?” Armin asks him.
Eren shakes his head, trying to think back. It’s a bit of a blur, a
conglomeration of disjointed sights and sounds. He remembers Armin falling from
the tree and landing in his hand; he remembers that same hand getting sticky
with evaporating blood. He remembers Mikasa, a tiny figure on the ground, and
the terrible groaning of the Titans they left behind as they emerged from the
forest. “Not much,” he says. “I remember thinking that I had to get you out of
that tree and then not much else.”
“You got me out of the tree,” Armin agrees. “You didn’t recognize Mikasa,
though. I had to talk you out of attacking her. Then you cleared a path through
the Titans and got us out of the forest safely before you collapsed. For some
reason, the moment we were outside of the trees, all of the Titans stopped
chasing us.
“We had to cut you out of your Titan body,” he continues, leaning forward. “You
were burning with fever, so hot that we couldn’t touch you with our bare hands.
We covered you in one of the blankets and carried you the rest of the way to
Tekkai; you’d gotten us close enough that it only took another hour or two to
arrive.”
Eren nods slowly. He looks around the room, able to take in more details now
that he can move his body once more. It’s a simple looking room. It’s small,
not too different from what the master bedroom in his childhood home looked
like. Aside from the bed he is laying on, there is a small bedside table and a
wooden armoire.”Where are we?”
Armin’s gaze sweeps around the room too, like he’s never really paid attention
to it’s details before. “After the wall in Trost fell, the other outlying
villages were worried that they would be targeted next. There was a mass
migration to the interior of Wall Maria, so when we arrived in Tekkai, there
were a lot of abandoned houses. This is one of them.”
Eren looks out of the window and hesitates. It’s mid-morning, he guesses from
the lightness of the sky. The first time he’d woken up, it had been in the
middle of the night. He almost doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he needs to.
“How long was I out?”
“After you saw Mikasa, you fell asleep for another thirty minutes,” Armin
answers flatly. His words could almost be passed as disinterested, but Eren
feels him clutch tighter at his fingers. “Before that, you were unconscious for
three days. If you hadn’t woken up by tonight, we were going to risk taking you
to a doctor.”
He winces. For them to consider bringing him to a doctor he must’ve been in
terrible condition; he is a wanted criminal now, after all. “I’m sorry,” Eren
says, but Armin continues to speak over him.
“You had a temperature of 40.5 degrees. You wouldn’t move, you wouldn’t respond
to anything. For all I knew, you had fallen into a coma. Imagine that! Eren
Jaeger, defeated by a measly fever after getting eaten couldn’t keep him down.”
“I’m sorry, alright?” Eren shouts. “It was either do that or watch you die, I
didn’t have a choice! How else were we supposed to get out of there alive?”
Armin lets go of him abruptly and stands. “You must be hungry,” he says. “There
are plenty of supplies here, I’m sure I can find something for you. Don’t even
think of getting out of that bed.” Eren watches him stride out of the room, his
movements stiff and jerky.
“Eren,” Mikasa says, drawing his attention to her. He’d almost forgotten that
she was there. She hadn’t said a word during their argument. She’s looking down
to the floor as she speaks. “This is the third time you’ve saved mine and
Armin’s lives. It was because you don’t want us to die, right?”
“Of course I don’t want either of you to die,” Eren says. “You guys are my
family.” As he says it, he feels a fleeting sense of déjà vu, like he’d heard
the phrase recently. He files that away to think about later, focusing on
Mikasa for now.
“We don’t want you to die either,” she says.
Mikasa doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t need to; she’s gotten her
point across. At no point had he stopped to consider his own safety. He had
figured that as long as the other two were safe, he could deal with the
consequences. Eren imagines how he would feel if it were he in the place of his
friends, if it had been them throwing away their lives for his sake. It could
only be bittersweet if one of them died saving the others.  The three of them
have no one but each other in this world; he needs to be more careful.
Armin returns soon with a bowl of soup that he hands over. Eren tries to raise
the spoon, but his hand trembles and the majority ends up spilling. He hadn't
realized how weak he is and suddenly he understands just how bad his condition
must be. Armin doesn't say anything, just sops up the spill with a corner of
one of the many sheets. Then he takes the bowl and spoons up more of the broth,
patiently feeding it to Eren.
When he finishes the bowl, Armin makes to leave again but Eren grabs his arm
before he can get too far away. "I'm sorry. I can't say I'll never do it again,
but I'll be more careful."
Armin nods, his face finally relaxing out of the tight expression he's been
wearing. He leans forward and brushes Eren's sweaty hair out of his face. His
hands linger on his face, blessedly cool. "Get some more rest," he says gently.
===============================================================================
It’s once again dark outside the next time he wakes up. For a moment, he can’t
immediately place what woke him so abruptly, but then he feels the dip in the
bed and sees the flash of pale hair.
“Sorry,” Armin says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Eren pushes himself to his forearms. The darkness turns movement to shadows and
silhouettes; he can only barely make out Armin’s outline. “No, it’s fine,” he
says as he waits for his eyes to adjust. “I’ve had plenty of rest lately.”
“I was just going to sleep. Mikasa’s in the other room, but I could go out into
the sitting room if you’d rather?”
He frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, shifting over to make room. “You’ll
be very hot under here, though.”
Armin rests his hand on Eren’s forehead. Armin’s hands no longer feel as
refreshingly cool as they had before, but his touch is still welcome. Eren is
too drunk on sleep to stop the sigh, too relaxed to stop himself from turning
his head to press his face further into his friend’s touch. “Your temperature
has gone down,” Armin says. “You could take those off now if you want to.”
Without another thought, Eren throws them off. He is cognizant enough to notice
how thick they are; these aren’t the same ones that had been in their stolen
packs. He guesses that Armin must have found them in the house. It seems like
he made a good choice; the food, the furnishings, the comforts: he had been
lucky to pick a place that had them all. Or maybe the choice hadn’t been
random. Maybe he’d deduced somehow that the family living previously in this
house had been well off. Armin was good for making intuitive leaps of logic
like that.
Armin climbs into the bed finally and hesitates momentarily. Eren opens his
arms in a wordless invitation; in another moment, he aligns himself against
Eren’s body, presses himself as close as possible. His body is heated and when
Eren encircles his arms around his front, he feels almost as warm as he had
before he pulled off the blankets.
“How many times do I have to lose you?” Armin whispers into the darkness. In
the silence, his words are all too loud. “I don’t want you to die, Eren.”
Eren can’t think of anything to say that would reassure his friend. He knows
that any words he can come up with will only sound like empty promises because
they both know that he would do it again in a heartbeat. He’s promised to be
more careful, and he will – it was his fault that they’d ended up in that
situation. It had been he to suggest that they ignore the danger and use their
manoeuvre gear. He knows that Armin isn’t weak and doesn’t need protecting, but
if he were put in the same situation again, he wouldn’t hesitate.
So instead, he grips Armin tight, envelops him as fully as he can. He doesn’t
want to die either, he tries to convey, because he’d have to lose Armin and
Mikasa if he does. He loves them too much to let them go.
He’s not tired, not when he’s been sleeping for the past three days. Once
Armin’s breaths go slow and even, he slips out of the bed. The house he’s in is
too foreign for his comfort, but at the same time it reminds him too much of
his childhood home and of all the bad memories associated with the place. He
decides he’ll explore a bit and learn his surroundings in an attempt to relax.
He keeps one hand on the wall as he exits the room and walks down the hallway;
it is dark, and he is in an unfamiliar place. He doesn’t want to trip or walk
into a wall. The walls under his hand are smooth wood.
He finds another bedroom and considers peering in. Armin had said Mikasa was
asleep in there and she is a notoriously light sleeper; he doesn’t want to
disturb her. Eventually he decides to risk it, holding his breath as he cracks
the door as if his exhalations alone would be enough to disturb her. The room,
from what he can tell from the miniscule light that the moon provides, is much
like the other one. It’s smaller – probably belonging to a kid, judging from
the small toy box he spots.  There is also a small rug on the floor in front of
a smaller bed, another nearly identical armoire and a window facing the
opposite direction.
There’s a bathroom that leaves him momentarily stupefied. It’s not the first
time he’s seen indoor plumbing facilities, but he isn’t used to them. Only the
very rich have them and he’s heard it’s prevalent behind Wall Sina. This family
had been better off than he had originally assumed. That thought is further
proven when he enters the kitchen. Sinks and refrigerators are more common than
indoor plumbing, but they’re usually only found in large establishments. The
military training camp had used them.
Eren rummages through the fridge and the cupboards, noting how well stocked it
is. It’s like whoever had lived here had just dropped everything and ran
without bothering to pack. He’s sure that if he checks the closets, there will
be clothes left behind, too. Hopefully, they’ll be able to find something to
fit all of them.
“We’ll have to eat the perishables quickly before they spoil, but everything
else should last us for a while.”
Eren jumps, startled, and tries to cover the movement poorly by reaching for
the kettle and filling it with water from the tap. It doesn’t work if the small
snort he hears behind him is any indication. “Do you want some?” he asks lamely
and Armin nods. He checks if there’s enough water for the both of them before
setting it on the stove.
Eren migrates to the small couch in what the family must have used as a sitting
area, bypassing the wooden table. Judging by its uncomfortable appearance, that
is where Armin had procured the chair that had been at his bedside. “Í didn’t
wake you, did I?” he asks.
“No,” Armin answers as he moves to joins him at the couch. “I wasn’t asleep.”
Eren lifts his arm and drapes it around him; Armin rests his head on his
shoulder, letting his eyes drift shut. His wispy eyelashes are translucent in
the gloom, the only light coming from the fire on the stove and the lurking
moon.
“Stop thinking so hard. You might break,” Armin teases him. “Want to share with
the rest of us?”
"When I was a Titan," Eren begins slowly, "you told me that you love me."
Armin shifts to catch Eren's eyes, frowning faintly and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah, I did," he says. "That's not exactly news."
"I don't think you meant as a friend."
For a moment, Armin doesn't respond. He's not avoiding the question, just
considering how best to answer. "I dolove you as a friend," he says finally,
after long moments of silence have gone by. "You're the closest thing I have to
a brother now, and I love you that way too. And yes, I love you as more than
either of those, too." He spreads his hands and shrugs, but he doesn't tense
and he doesn't move from where his head is resting on Eren.
Impulsively, Eren catches one of those hands between his own. He thinks about
Armin, how right it feels when they fall asleep together, the sheer number of
times they've held hands or kissed innocently on the cheek, on the neck. He
remembers Armin reading to him aloud, studying together at night, their long-
winded discussions about the world at large.
Armin, next to him, looks the way he always has and smells the way he always
has. His blonde hair is just slightly mussed from the bed, but it's the same
bob he's always had, the same hairstyle he refused to change no matter how many
disparaging comments he heard about it. He smells, as always, like books and
ink and vaguely like vanilla.
"I don't," Eren starts, twining his fingers through Armin's almost absently. "I
mean, of course I love you. But I mean, I."
He gives up on speech; Armin's the one that's always been good with words, not
him. He is only good at acting, and so he acts to express what he can't find
the words to explain. With his free hand, he turns Armin's head and kisses him,
chaste and close-mouthed. He feels Armin press back against him almost
immediately and he feels something inside him flip in elation.
"What you mean," Armin says when they withdraw, damnably unperturbed, "is that
you love me, but you're not inlove with me. But you're afraid, because you know
it would be too easy to fall in love. Right?"
Eren nods, relieved that Armin understands. As usual, he knows exactly the
right thing to say. "Yes," he says belatedly, because it seems like Armin is
waiting for a verbal response.
"I know because that's how I feel, too. I'm not in love with you," Armin says.
For a moment he eyes Eren, and then he swings his legs around until he's
straddling Eren's lap. His palms go to cradle Eren's face as he leans in. "Not
yet."
Eren has never been kissed before; he had never been as fascinated by the
concept of dating and kissing as some of the other guys his age. There had
never been the time for it. Here though, and now, he can see the attraction.
This second kiss that Armin initiates is anything but chaste. He is clearly
inexperienced, but he knows what he wants and he knows how to take it. Armin
opens his mouth and exhales little puffs of air against Eren’s mouth, waiting
patiently for him to copy the motion. As soon as he does though, Armin’s tongue
is in his mouth, curled deliciously around his, coaxing and teasing. It’s a
jolt of pleasure that Eren feels throughout his body. His eyes close of their
own volition and he moans helplessly into Armin’s mouth. He laps up the sound
greedily.
It’s messy, and it’s uncoordinated. Neither of them knows what they are doing,
but they decide wordlessly that they’ll learn it together. Eren finds himself
clutching Armin’s hips when they draw back for air, with no recollection of
putting them there. Armin’s eyes glint and he rocks down against Eren’s
erection. Eren groans and hauls him forward, licking his way back into Armin’s
mouth.
Armin’s hands find their way under his clothes; his palms are cool and damp,
but this time it is Armin, not fever, that is making his body so heated. Eren
sucks on his tongue in a moment of inspiration and Armin’s hands go suddenly
sharp, his nails digging into Eren’s bare chest. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters,
breaking away.
“Don’t apologize,” he replies. With one hand, he gathers Armin’s hair into his
fist and licks a kiss into the skin of his throat, the other guiding him to
rock down again. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, but Eren
keeps his gaze on Armin. He looks too good like this and Eren knows he can too
easily get addicted to the sight.
Armin pushes him away just long enough to snag the hem of Eren’s shirt and pull
it over his head. The time it takes seems to go on forever, wasted millennia
spent not kissing, but it is worth it once it’s fully off. Armin’s hands are
free to rove over bare skin unrestricted He rolls one of Eren’s nipples between
his fingers and Eren yelps at the unexpected burst of pleasure.
“Never tried that before?” Armin whispers into his ear. “What else haven’t you
tried?”
Eren groans and cradles Armin to his body, letting gravity overtake them both
and landing horizontal on the couch. Armin grunts at the weight and then
laughs, reaching up to pull Eren down into another messy kiss. Eren can feel
the shape of his smile against his mouth as he spreads his legs so that Eren
can settle between them. The smile disappears quickly when he ruts forward,
replaced by a drawn out whine.
A sudden high-pitched wail startles the both of them into stillness. They
freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed. “That will be the kettle,” Armin says.
“The what?”
“The kettle. The tea.”
Eren tries to think back through the hazy fog of his lust-addled mind. It takes
a moment for him to remember the kettle he’d set on the stove. It seems like
such a long time ago. It seems ridiculously unimportant in the face of these
new developments, but if he leaves it whistling too long Mikasa will wake up.
The choice is obvious.
“Right,” Eren says and sighs. He pushes himself off of Armin. His eyes, usually
so light, are dark and huge, the blue of his irises almost completely swallowed
by his blown pupils. Eren can feel his gaze on him as he turns to go to the
kitchen. He’s certain he looks ridiculous with his pants visibly tented and his
shirt nowhere to be found. His hair is ruffled beyond recognition. There are
ten perfect crescent moons scored into his chest and his lips are sore enough
that he knows they’re swollen.
It takes him a moment to actually find the tea and the cups to pour it in and
another moment to wait for the tea to brew properly. By the time he returns to
the sitting room, two cups in tow, Armin is sitting up straight once more. He
hadn’t bothered attempting to make himself look presentable the way Eren had;
he’s still half hard. He doesn’t look ridiculous, though. He looks enticing.
Armin accepts his cup as Eren sits down next to him. He wraps both hands around
it and blows gently, waiting for it too cool enough for him to drink. When they
had been younger, Armin had insisted that Eren learn to brew a proper cup of
tea. It hadn’t mattered to him either way, but he is happy that he did now.
Armin savors each sip individually in a way Eren’s never had the patience to.
By the time he’s done with the hot drink, Armin’s cup is still more than half
full.
Impatiently, Eren sidles closer, his hands landing on Armin’s thigh and
trailing teasingly up and down. It’s not enough, so he presses himself closer
and sucks at his throat. Armin’s hands tremble and the tea spills just a bit,
landing with a small splash and a muffled oath. Armin doesn’t seem truly
annoyed though, more amused than anything. “Just wait until I finish my tea,”
he says, laughing. “You can wait that long, can’t you?”
Eren catches his eyes. “We’ve both been waiting too long, I think,” he says
seriously.
“Just wait,” he repeats, but his voice is softer now, fond and full of promise.
The moment Armin drains his cup, Eren is on him again; the cup falls and
narrowly avoids breaking. He presses Armin back against the couch, covering his
body with his own. He tugs at the bottom of Armin’s shirt. “Can I take this
off?” he murmurs. He feels Armin nod and raise his hands so Eren can pull it
over his head. He doesn’t know where it lands and he doesn’t care to see.
Armin stands abruptly and takes Eren’s hand, leading them back to the bedroom.
There’s a moment of awkwardness before Eren turns to flip on the gas lantern.
When he turns back, Armin’s naked. The flickers of light from the new flame
dance across his skin, simultaneously shadowing and illuminating, throwing the
barest splash of color onto his pale skin. He doesn’t look nervous and he
doesn’t try to cover himself because they both know it’s not the first time
Eren has seen him like this. It’s the same thing he’s seen so many times
before, but it is still somehow different. His mouth goes dry as he steps
closer.
Armin’s gentle hands help him out of the rest of his clothes before they topple
somewhat haphazardly into the bed. Remembering not too lean to heavily on him,
Eren settles them facing each other on their sides. Everywhere they touch there
is skin on skin contact; it’s dizzying and electrifying. Eren can’t say who
starts it, but they’re kissing again, slow and sloppy. When Armin shifts,
opening his leg just a little, their dicks brush against each other. He shifts
again, more deliberately this time, and they slip against each other, the glide
made easy by their combined precome. Eren finds himself moaning, too turned on
to be embarrassed by the noise.
“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Eren asks.
Armin’s expression goes thoughtful. “I think each couple should have their own
pace and do whatever suits them best,” he says. “It’s possible that we’re going
faster than most people do, but it’s not exactly like we have someone to pace
ourselves against.” He smiles cheekily, his hands going between Eren’s legs.
“If it makes you feel better, think of the past few years we spent dancing
around each other as dates. I figure it’s about time to put out now.”
Armin tugs on his dick, quickly settling into the motion, coaxing tiny sounds
out of Eren’s slack mouth. He feels Armin’s touch everywhere, explicitly aware
of every place that their skin meets, of their tangled legs and limbs. Dimly,
Eren thinks he should return the gesture; he needs to find a way to let Armin
feel as good as he does.
“I could,” he starts, motioning uselessly but Armin shakes his head.
“I want to make you come,” he says. There’s an excruciating pause when Armin
lets go of him, but then his hands return, slick from spit. He hadn’t thought
anything could be better than the feeling of Armin’s hand on his dick, but this
is infinitely better. The touch is slicker, wetter, rougher, hotter. His body
ruts forward without his permission, fucking into Armin’s hands. “That’s it,”
Armin whispers into his skin. He adjusts his grip, squeezing tighter. His other
hand goes to fondle Eren’s ball sac as his nails scrape over his head and into
the slit.
Eren's hands scrabble for purchase, skating over Armin's arms and legs before
catching on the sheets. He fists them, wrinkling them. He bites down on his
lips to stop the noises flooding out. "Stop that," Armin chides when he
notices. "I want to hear you." He latches onto Eren's collarbone and sucks hard
enough that Eren knows it will bruise before he bites down, hard enough that
Eren shouts.
His strokes speed up. Eren feels a coil winding in just gut, drawing tighter
and tighter, hauling him closer to the brink. He dangles on a precipice for one
agonizing moment.
"I love you," Armin reminds him and his nails dig in again, too hard. Tears
spring unbidden to his eyes. It hurts, but it hurts too good and he's coming.
He loses track of time and of himself, his vision whiting out. When he can see
again, he's lying boneless on the bed and Armin's staring at him in wonder.
"You did this to me," Eren accuses him.
"I did, didn't I?" he says in awe.
Eren allows himself several beats to recover before pushing himself to his
forearms. He kisses Armin slowly, lazily, tongue curling into his mouth and
hands roaming his body. He allows his hand to drift teasingly over Armin's cock
before he stands. He takes both of Armin's hands and uses them to tug him into
the position he wants; Armin sits on the bed with his legs thrown over the
side. Then Eren kneels between them, spreads them open further.
"You don't have to," Armin tells him. "You could just do it with your hands."
"I want to," Eren replies and bends his head to lick at Armin's cock. To his
relief, if doesn't taste like much; a little salty from his precome, maybe a
bit bitter. Overall though, there's not much to protest about. He opens up
wider, sinking as far down as he can. For a moment, he just stays there,
marveling at the velvety feel, the heaviness of Armin's cock on his tongue.
He sucks back up hard, mindful of his teeth. Armin makes an aborted sound like
a whimper, thighs trembling at the effort of keeping still. Eren goes slow,
learning his way around Armin's dick, learning that sucking on the tip makes
him groan, learning how to curl his tongue just right, learning how to relax
his throat to take him deeper.
Then, when he feels ready, he takes Armin's hands and guides them to his hair.
For a minute Armin hesitates, but then he grips tight to hold him steady and
shoves his dick in. Eren shuts his eyes, reveling in the taste, sucking when he
can. His face is wet with drool and precome, but he doesn't stop to wipe it
away. His jaw is aching from the stretch, but the discomfort is ignorable when
he raises his eyes and sees Armin’s had thrown back in unabridged pleasure.
Too soon, Armin's hips start stuttering out of rhythm, jerking in and out
unsteadily. "I'm gonna come," he warns. Eren hesitates a moment too long and
doesn't pull away fast enough. Armin's come splashes onto his face in wet
spurts.
For a moment he doesn't know how to respond, kneeling there blinking ejaculate
out of his eyes. Armin tugs on the sheet and uses it to wipe up the mess with
gentle hands before pulling Eren to his feet. Armin tilts his head up to kiss
him, tugging them backwards. They land breathless and laughing on the bed.
They squirm around each other until their heads are back on the pillows, Armin
pressed against Eren's chest. "We can do laundry in the morning," Armin says.
"But," Eren says, gesturing vaguely to indicate the come staining their bodies,
"we'll get sticky."
"In the morning," he repeats firmly. Eren can't bring himself to argue, not
when he's feeling this lazy and sated. He doesn't want to move anyway. So he
doesn't, just adjusts his position and waits to fall asleep with Armin in his
arms, where he belongs.
Chapter End Notes
     Guys, I didn't plan for this chapter to only have them establish
     their relationship and sex. I swear this fic has an actual plot.
     It will also have more porn, but that's not the point.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!