Chapter Text
“Eren. Enough. You’re dismissed from today’s training,” a gravelly voice shouted. Levi could barely recognize himself yelling, his voice gritty and brazen from lost sleep. A sulky Eren left the grounds, a glare from Mikasa left in his wake.
Let her pick a fight. I need something to do. Levi’s body hummed with a quiet irritation, meeting her gaze with one of an equally chilling sharpness. Despite herself, she kept quiet.
Training the recruits was hell. A new day, a new squad, new people. He dismissed himself as soon as he had the opportunity– he wasn’t in the mood to rub elbows or make friends. Not again. The recruits were too scared of him and too tired to complain about calling quits early.
Levi found himself trudging to Erwin’s office, an action that had become routine when he was looking for a fight. He needed things out of his system, and the commander was stubborn enough to fall for bait. His meticulously shined boots were silent against the stone floors as he approached the office he knew too well.
“Your choice was reckless. Now I’m left to train a hotheaded recruit,” Levi grumbled upon approaching the commander’s desk. Erwin didn’t blink an eye, let alone look up from his paperwork. It rubbed Levi the wrong way.
Erwin only smiled. It pissed Levi off more.
“He’s an asset. We need this for humanity,” the commander spoke as if things were simple.
For humanity, my ass. Levi’s mouth went bitter at the comment, a feeling he couldn't quite name settling into his throat. His hand moved with its own will to Erwin’s paperwork, shoving it off the table before he knew what he was doing.
“You’re arrogant. You think you know everything,” Levi grunted, his hand forming into a fist on the empty desk. Look at me, his mind begged, though he’d never mutter the words aloud. Let him see how broken I am.
“I know many things. I know you’re here to pick a fight,” Erwin said with an amused hum. His blue eyes finally worked their way up to Levi’s.
He hated the way the commander could predict him. He was supposed to be a captain, an unshakable man, not a routine.
“Maybe I am. It’s not like you’ll push back,” Levi barked as he snatched up the commander’s bolo tie. He was testing the waters, as if testing a rope to check its tension. After all, he needed to see if Erwin would pull away, or sit taller with resistance.
Erwin did exactly as Levi had expected– he gently removed Levi’s hand, rubbing gentle circles into the wrist, which resulted in a growl from the shorter man. Levi didn’t bother pushing again. The commander was relaxed as ever.
“You need an outlet. Go fight with someone. Get it out of your system,” Erwin said with a glance at Levi's posture. He was wound tight, tenser than normal. A flicker of something similar to concern got caught in his throat. I can't afford a broken captain, he told himself, but something else he wouldn't dare speak lingered under that.
Levi's hand shifted to the commander's wrist, gripping too tight.
“You don't own me. I'm not a dog to be controlled. You're the pushover,” Levi spat. Cruel, yes, but he was desperate to get under the commander's skin.
“You have the blood of dozens on your hands, and you sit here on your high horse, doing paperwork.” The insult was sharp and ugly, just like Levi’s thoughts. The commander, again, gently moved to Levi's wrist, rubbing the arteries with the gentleness you'd use on a stray animal.
Erwin kept silent before replying, looking over Levi. His words screamed anger, but his posture, the eye bags, whispered defeat and distress.
“I do. You're right,” Erwin simply agreed. He knew better than to argue; the captain was partially right. He hadn't seen the light of the field since the massacre. He knew he had this coming.
“Sit down, Levi,” the blonde said with a gentle tone. Catching the tension, the hesitation in Levi's body, he continued. “It's not a suggestion.”
Similar to a well trained dog, Levi sat. He considered the alternative, but he was tired. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. Levi didn't come to argue verbally, like he claimed. The commander could read that in the way Levi's eyes wandered, never focused for too long. He was in his own head.
“This is what war is. It's brutal, and unfair. You know this better than anyone,” Erwin spoke softly. Levi was unwavering, a constant in the chair across from Erwin's desk. His shoulders tensed, and the commander paused, watching his reaction. He, too, was testing, waiting for a movement, a jab, anything, pleased when he saw the tension. He filed it away for later reference.
He's listening. He hears me, even if he doesn't acknowledge it.
“You're tense, Levi. What can I do to help you?” The blonde asked, waiting to get another reaction or shift. When Levi looked at his feet, the commander kept watching. Waiting.
“You're watching me. What do you want?” the ravenette muttered. A real question, wrapped in bluntness. Erwin was reading him, trying to analyze the meaning of every movement.
“I want you to reconsider the walls you built around yourself. What good does it do to punish yourself?” Erwin asked rhetorically.
The silence was deafening. It was a shield for Levi. Erwin had long known this, but had never had the opportunity to observe. He didn't bother waiting for Levi to respond.
“You didn't answer my question. What can I do to help you?” Erwin repeated, pushing the walls that Levi had haphazardly built. If he pushed enough, they'd crumble. Persistence is key, he reminded himself.
“I'm tired of watching over brats. Give me something to actually do,” Levi muttered. I don't want more control. Levi would never speak that aloud, though.
The request was quiet, spoken without venom for once. Erwin considered the statement, letting it sit heavily in the air. He watched Levi's downturned graze grow distant, a silent tell from the prickly man in front of him. The commander mulled this over, considering the subtext.
“You don't want control, do you, Levi?”
The question hung in the air, unwavering and honest. A pale hand moved to pick up the papers messily scattered from the floor from his outburst, his hands stacking them neatly as he returned them to Erwin’s desk. A silent surrender and apology, stacked there on the corner of the mahogany wood, even if it was never explicitly said. Erwin noted this too, letting the silence linger.
“I’m tired. I’m leaving,” Levi replied, standing up and swiping invisible dust off of his uniform pants.
“I know, Levi,” Erwin replied quietly, content to watch. The air had shifted from a palpable tenseness to something gentler. A silent vow of understanding settled in as Erwin watched the shorter man leave.