Work Text:
The slow, melodic tune of a 70's ballad emanates from the little speaker atop the counter nearby. Your hands are warm and a tad sudsy between each clean dish Levi passes to you, but you don't mind that much. You even find yourself humming a little; you love this song, your stomach is full and warm, and Levi is a constant presence at your side as he diligently scrubs each dirty dish until they shine.
And this new nightly routine is nice, you think. You and Levi don't even need to carry that much conversation between the two of you for things to feel natural. Occasionally, you can sense him grace you with a brief, fond look, and your hands will sometimes linger between passes. It's nice. A smile accompanies your humming now.
The dirty dishes pass you by quick, and then Levi's forearm- slick with soapy water- enters your peripheral vision. You scarcely have the split-second to squeak before the garbage disposal roars to life, a grating scream. It's like dragging the prongs of a metal fork across a fancy plate; you flinch as your expression twists into a cringe, and you drop the clean glass.
Maybe it's the sound of the monstrous thing, or the image you can see in your mind's eye of two-dozen tiny blades grinding who-knows-what into bits at the speed of light. Hardened grease, bits of food, fingers -
The garbage disposal stops abruptly the same moment you hear Levi's abrupt curse and his strong arms capture your waist, all to lift you away from the broken glass scattered across the hardwood like bits of razor-sharp glitter.
"You idiot ," Levi seethes, and jerks back a bit from where he's cradling your trembling body to his chest. Your feet brush carpet, and the song is still playing, droning on and on. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Levi," you gasp, eyes widening like saucers. "Your feet-"
It occurs to you, neither of you were wearing socks just then, and it's your fault. You only moved in with Levi a month or so ago, so how could he possibly have known about that specific, terribly fear among your millions and billions of others?
"It doesn't matter," Levi grunts, and hefts you up on the countertop like you weigh nothing at all. It's only then that the knot in your throat snaps, and you shudder out a sob.
-
Another time- after enough months had passed for Levi to get comfortable teasing you as the biggest scaredy-cat he knows- you lay together, basking in afterglow.
"You're a mess," Levi retorts, to your tired moans to stay in bed. His palm drifts over your belly, stopping at the slickness at your inner thighs.
You squirm, then tease, "and whose fault is that?" before regarding the dark hickeys littering Levi's chest and thighs. It's as if you're high- either on the little death, your fiancé, or both- and that feeling makes you giggle at Levi's playful scoff before he swoops in and lifts you off the messy duvet.
A small squeak leaves your lips, but you're too swamped to struggle or put up much of a fight this late at night, especially after so much sex. Levi is strong, warm, and you press kisses to the crook of his neck, where the musk of pine needles and arousal is the strongest.
Now, you aren't that frightened of darkness, not really. It's dark bathrooms . Specifically, mirrors. Maybe it's your superstitious nature, or needlessly frightening stories you've picked up on over the years, but mirrors in pitch-black darkness? The fear is paralyzing.
But Levi knows this about you, as he does most other little tidbits or factoids that make up who you are. And after what happened, he had you make a bulleted list of every silly, irrational fear you have stewing inside your head.
So he knows now, and when you duck your head into the crook of his neck at the first glimpse of darkness, he huffs in amusement before deftly flicking the light switch with his elbow.
-
Levi- both reclined and relaxed- glances over his book through his veil of bangs. Behind the coffee table, along with his mug of tea, you're teasing your cat, Peter. He’s a mischievous little fluff-ball you and Levi inherited not long ago from Hange. They have four cats, not one of them fixed, and, well.
Peter hates being held. He also has ‘fucking razor-sharp claws’ as Levi puts it.
“Careful,” he advises you then. “He’s scratched you before."
“Mm, it’ll be alright,” you say, brushing him off. Again, you creep your hand forth as bait, and Peter’s wide eyes track your movements like the master hunter he is. They look like that of black holes, almost.
Levi looks over his book at you and rolls his eyes, "right. Keep messing with him and it won't end well for you one of these days. Emergency rooms annoy the shit out of me."
At this, your expression immediately twists. Something like roadkill is what that feeling is. You blink rapidly and go still, both Peter and your game effectively forgotten.
“Hey,” you say- a bit quickly- and look over at your partner. Levi regards you with a troubled frown. “You can’t do that. Don’t take me to hospital, not ever, okay? At least not one of the big ones-”
Levi stops you there with a catch of your name, and places his book aside in favor of padding over to your side. He knows your current demeanor, what it means. Levi knows it better than you know it yourself by now.
“Don’t take me to the hospital,” you tell him, somewhat hysterically, and you shake your head. Hysteria, if such a thing could sit still, solid and heavy. “You can’t , just don’t.”
“Okay, we won’t. Not if I can help it- I promise, alright?” Levi frowns deeply, and furrows his brow through his bangs. You don’t seem to quite hear him. Your eyes are wide, breaths drawn and heaving as if you’ve been caught in fight-or-flight.
It’s not anything he’s never seen from you before, except below, the nail on your pointer finger is digging into the flesh of your thumb. When Levi moves into action- snapping your name, seizing your hand- you continue to tremble. Even in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” you scramble to apologize, “I’m sorry- it just reminds me I’m not there anymore; I know I shouldn’t do it. I’m sorry …”
And Levi’s eyes are wide as he holds you because you doing that , that’s something he’s never seen you do. The thought of you inflicting pain on yourself for your own sake makes his blood run cold.
You both stay like that, you think, for some time. Your joints are aching and there are pins and needles in your legs once you’re calm enough to realize how you reacted.
Your first instinct is to curse and berate yourself. Of course, Levi is there instead to lock his arm around your waist while he brews you both a calming tea. You explain, and here, he makes you remember.
What happened then isn’t now, and Levi wouldn’t ever do a thing to intentionally harm you. You know, and yet the reaction was innate, then harshly visceral. A raging, uncontrollable leviathan.
Out of the countless small things you’re afraid of- the garbage disposal, bathroom mirrors- those are nothing like that. Still, you remember.
You are still here, and Levi is now too. You're going to be alright.