He didn't know when it started.
Maybe that was a lie. Maybe he did know—maybe it was the night after Merlin revealed himself. Revealed that he wasn't just some talented oddball cadet who talked too much and smiled too easily. No. Merlin was something else entirely. A being of magic and myth, a dream-cloaked figure from another time and place—a half incubus, a mage, a seer.
Not human. Not quite.
Levi remembered sitting in Erwin's office, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as Merlin showed them an illusion of what he later learned was the Garden of Avalon. The explanations of what he knew and the burning certainty in his voice when he said the word "island."
And Levi remembered, most of all, how quiet he felt when Merlin said his theories of what he guessed Levi's family was, what they all were: prisoners.
He should've questioned it. Should've been angry and suspicious. But, Merlin kept coming to his office after it was over. With tea. With soft steps and tired eyes. Like nothing had changed. Like he still wanted to be there.
And Levi… let him.
The silence between them now had weight. Not distance, just gravity. The kind that only came when two people had seen the worst of each other and chose not to flinch.
That should've been it, but it wasn't.
Levi wasn't sure when like became something else.
He tried to track it. The first time he offered Merlin the couch? Maybe. Merlin had smiled at him like he'd just offered him the world then. Or maybe one of the times they'd sparred, and Merlin grinned wide mid-dodge, eyes gleaming like starlight, laughter curling out of him even as Levi swept his legs.
Levi had told himself it was admiration. Respect.
Then he started waking up hard after the days they sparred, and he cursed himself silently, told himself it was nothing. Just reflex. Just the product of someone too pretty for his own damn good, continuing to look beautiful even with the grime from their sparring.
But then came the guilt. Not because Merlin wasn't human, but because Merlin trusted him. Sat across from him every night, hands wrapped around a cup of tea, talking softly about futures and failures and the weight of his magic. He looked at Levi with open trust, a kind of warmth Levi hadn't known in years. Maybe ever.
And Levi?
He was dreaming about his mouth whenever the weight of his head on his shoulder pressed against him. He dreamed about the curve of his neck when he stretched. And wondered how he'd sound if he broke—not in pain, but in pleasure.
Damn it.
It didn't help that Merlin had this way of existing that made everyone want to get close—without even trying. And when he did try… Levi still remembered the hooded eyes when Merlin said he hadn't tried to charm him yet. That day he revealed himself was one that fueled his dreams, as he remembered how soft his lips had looked when he smiled at him.
That had been a joke, but it hadn't been nothing.
And now, Levi caught himself watching him constantly. Watching the way Merlin stood, the way he ducked his head when he was flustered, how his laugh started quiet before it spilled over, how he spoke softly to the horses like they were old friends.
It was becoming… a problem. Not only because Levi wasn't good at softness. Wasn't good at admitting anything he felt. But also because when he looked at Merlin now, he felt something he couldn't name. Not just attraction. Not just guilt.
Something deeper and steady. Like a promise he hadn't made yet, but already meant to keep.
He didn't know what to do with that. So, for now, he let it sit. Let it breathe as Merlin still came every night. Sometimes with tea, sometimes just with his presence. And Levi let him.
Maybe one night, he'd do more than that. Maybe one night, he'd ask what it meant when Merlin's smile faltered, or why his hand lingered when it touched Levi's sleeve.
But not now. For now, he'd continue to pour the tea and try not to look too long at the man who was slowly becoming the only constant Levi looked forward to.
.
A month ago, Levi had realized he might be in trouble.
It wasn't the first time he'd looked at Merlin and thought pretty. Or dangerous. Or too damn bright for someone like me. But it was the first time he looked at him mid-laugh—hair half-tied, dust on his collar, eyes squinting up at the sun—and thought I want to kiss him.
And almost did.
The thought, the want hit like a punch to the gut, worse than any wound he'd taken in battle.
He didn't act on it, luckily. Of course he didn't; he stopped midway before committing. But since then, he did… experiment. Because Merlin, for all his elegance and charm and endless curiosity, was an enigma.
He was touchy—but with everyone. He laughed easily—but didn't flinch when someone got too close. He'd sit with Levi for hours in silence, but Levi couldn't tell if that meant anything more than friendship, or if Merlin just liked the quiet.
Levi could tell Merlin liked him. But how much? And, in what way?
So Levi tested the waters in the only way he knew how: contact. A brush of the shoulder when they trained. A ruffle of hair when they returned from a safe expedition. A light touch to his wrist when Merlin handed him tea.
Subtle. Small. Intentional.
And Merlin… responded. He didn't lean away. He didn't ignore it. His smile would soften just a little and his gaze lingered a second longer. Once or twice, he'd even leaned into it, as if savoring the contact.
It gave Levi hope. Or made him reckless. Hard to say.
He still wasn't sure if Merlin knew, though he was too observant to not do so. But he didn't think Merlin understood what Levi was doing—what he was offering, in his own quiet, awkward way.
That morning, on the eve of the 56th expedition, he found out.
Merlin had gasped awake on Levi's office couch after he tried to awaken him, mostly because he was still asleep when he needed to get ready. The blankets tangled around his legs and he was breathing harshly as he'd said a name—Eren—with something close to wonder in his voice. Not the first time Merlin had reacted this strongly to a dream, but something about this one hit differently.
Levi felt the flash of something ugly—jealousy, maybe. The name wasn't his. And it had left Merlin's lips like a prayer. But then he saw the tremble in Merlin's hands and the quiet panic behind his eyes.
So Levi did what he always did now—stepped forward and ruffled Merlin's hair to calm him. He meant it as a grounding touch, something steady. Familiar.
What he hadn't expected was Merlin reaching up, gently guiding his hand and pressing it to his cheek, asking for more.
And Levi froze because Merlin didn't ask for things like that, not outright. Not with this quiet need. But now—now he leaned into Levi's palm, lashes fluttering close, breath unsteady, like the contact alone was holding him together.
Levi's chest tightened as he let his hand linger. Brushed his thumb across Merlin's cheekbone. Jaw. Lips. Slow and careful. And when Merlin kissed his palm—light as a whisper—it felt like Levi's world tilted on its axis.
He'd wanted confirmation. He'd wanted something real and that moment had been more than enough. Even if it got interrupted, afterward. Even if the day moved forward as if nothing had changed. Something had. Between them.
And now, Levi didn't feel reckless.
He felt… patient. Because whatever this was—whatever it was becoming—he'd wait. Wait for the next time Merlin reached for his hand first.
Afterward, he hadn't meant to linger, but his eyes didn't listen. Especially not when Merlin stood with his back to him, pulling his shirt over his head in a practiced motion, the fabric sliding up and revealing pale skin, smooth and unmarked. Too smooth. Too unscarred for someone who trained like a soldier and moved like the wind. And Levi stared.
He shouldn't have, but he did.
There was something reverent in the way Merlin moved—like every gesture was for an unseen audience. Except there was no audience. Just Levi, standing next to his desk in his own office, frozen.
He should have turned away. Should have said something.
Instead, he watched.
He watched the slow arch of Merlin's arms as he stretched into the sleeves of his uniform jacket. The dip of his waist, the soft line of his spine. Every inch of him was made for a stage—and yet there was something real there, something that ached beneath the beauty. Something that made Levi's chest feel too tight.
Then Merlin looked over his shoulder, eyes meeting his with too much knowing.
The bastard knew.
His motions didn't slow—but they shifted as he put the ODM gear. Became aware. Not quite teasing, not overt… just deliberate. Polished like performance, but aimed directly at him.
"You were doing it on purpose," Levi muttered when he trusted his voice not to crack. It still came out lower than he wanted, rougher. He cleared his throat, looking away from how the straps of the ODM enhanced Merlin's ass.
Merlin smiled, not his usual grin. Not the polite softness he gave others. No—this was something else.
A promise.
He walked over slowly, the last of his gear settling against his hips, cloak still hanging loose around his shoulders. When he reached him, he leaned up on his toes and pressed a kiss—gentle and slow—to Levi's cheek.
Levi didn't move. Couldn't.
"Something tells me," Merlin murmured, "we won't get the opportunity again for a while."
Levi blinked. He hadn't expected—that.
"What does that mean?" he asked, voice quiet and unsteady.
Merlin's expression didn't falter—but the corners of his mouth turned down. Just slightly. "I don't know," he admitted. "And it… scares me."
Levi saw it then. The shadow behind the glamour. The fear Merlin didn't usually let bleed through.
Without thinking—without hesitating—he stepped forward. One hand came up to Merlin's jaw, thumb brushing lightly over the corner of his mouth. Then, just as gently, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Merlin's.
A kiss.
Just that.
No heat, no hunger. Just the weight of being here.
And Merlin leaned into it, responded a little bit with slowness. When they pulled apart, it left Levi a little breathless. It wasn't a deep kiss, he didn't want to make it so when he had soldiers to get to. He still had an image to present… And he didn't want others to see Merlin with flushed cheeks and red, kissed lips.
He didn't say anything for a second, regaining his breath.
"Then this one," he said, voice low, "will be for luck."
And before Merlin could say anything else—before Levi could see the look in his eyes and do something reckless—he turned, opened the door, and walked into the chill morning air where the squad waited in formation, his cloak snapping behind him like a banner.
His ears were definitely warm.
And he didn't even care.
.
.
I'm tired af
Work had been hard lately with not many of us workers and more clients coming. My sister, the one I live with, has gone on a month long trip to our home country and I have to take care of her cat (name: Snoopy), so yeah, this has not been my month, at all.
I tried to write when I could but... well, I've not been really succesful. Let's hope September is easier on me now that my sister returns in two days and I don't have to take care of everything.