
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2158026.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Armin_Arlert/Erwin_Smith, Levi/Eren_Yeager
  Character:
      Armin_Arlert, Erwin_Smith, Eren_Yeager, Levi_(Shingeki_no_Kyojin)
  Additional Tags:
      Fluff, Humour, Awkwardness, accidental_confessions, Canon_Era, Fluff_and
      Angst, Angst, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Oral_Sex, Anal_Sex,
      Power_Play, Praise_Kink, Spanking, top!armin, Bottom_Erwin_Smith
  Collections:
      Winmin_Week_Entries_(18th-24th)
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-18 Completed: 2014-08-24 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 12690
****** Breach! and Other Stories ******
by mongoose_bite
Summary
     A collection on one-shots written for Winmin Week 2014. Mostly
     canonverse.
     01. Superior and Subordinate: Armin was conflicted. They were
     superior and subordinate after all, kept apart by rules and
     regulations and just plain common sense. But the heart wants what it
     wants, and it wasn't like there was much else that made Eren smile
     lately.
     02. Stained Hands: Armin wasn't trying to wash away the blood with
     ink.
     03. Alternate Universe: Erwin is too big for his umbrella.
     04. Role Swap: Their first night together after Erwin is rescued.
     05. Hurt and Comfort: Faded names remind Erwin of a boy he met long
     ago.
     06. (Free Slot): Breach! Armin goes to the ends of the earth for an
     interview.
     07. The End: Armin insisted on the hood.
***** Superior and Subordinate *****
Armin was conflicted. They were superior and subordinate after all, kept apart
by rules and regulations and just plain common sense. It was wrong. He was more
than twice his age. But the heart wants what it wants, and it wasn't like there
was much else that made Eren smile lately.
Armin noticed before Eren himself probably had, the way his eyes would follow
Levi around the room. Of course he'd notice; he'd picked up on all sorts of
things like that and he'd been watching his fellow cadets fall in and out of
crush with each other for years. He never talked about what he knew, or about
his own futile affections; he was pretty sure no one would get it if he did.
His crush was on Erwin. Bold, ruthless, brilliant, Erwin.
For a while Armin had been rather charmed by Eren's infatuation; it was just
something else he had in common with his best friend, after all, and when he
felt mopey (although he never said why) Armin could sit with him and say that
he understood. Eren never noticed his wandering eyes; for a start he took
several long weeks before Armin was even sure he'd realised his own feelings.
They could be hopelessly love-struck for unobtainable superiors together then,
and frankly it seemed like the safest way to be  given the odds any one of them
would still be alive this time next year.
And then, something changed. It took Armin a while to notice, because Levi was
very hard to read and was most certainly hiding his own feelings, but he looked
after Eren. Not just physically, but he did his best, quietly, to make sure he
was okay. And when he saw the three of them talking together, Levi would
sometimes smile. The first time he noticed this, Armin's stomach lurched. He'd
never considered the possibility that it would actually go somewhere.
It did.
Armin watched them grow closer, inch by inch. It was wrong, he told himself,
but he knew it was envy rather than any real  attachment  to the rules that
bubbled up in his heart. If Eren could  receive  soft smiles and quiet words,
why couldn't he?
There were books at HQ. The first books Armin had acquired access to in years,
and he spent every spare minute dusting them off and looking through them.
Technically he was out past curfew, but as long as he didn't push it too late
he could get away with it. He was heading back to the barracks, trying to
remember who was rostered on patrol that night when he heard voices from the
mess.
He poked his head around the door and saw Eren and Levi, talking. They were
sitting in their usual places; Levi at the head of the table, Eren on his left
but they'd dragged their chairs closer. They had tea cups forgotten in front of
them, and they leaned in towards each other to talk.
Levi chuckled and shook his head and Eren said something and lightly touched
his arm. It looked like summer over there. Neither of them had noticed him and
he stepped back into the hallway. He couldn't see Levi's face but he could see
Eren's, and the expression made his heart hurt. There were things he couldn't
share with his childhood friend, and he'd always known they'd be coming, but
now, already? But he looked so brilliantly happy, Armin couldn't resent him for
it.
Armin put his back to the stone wall and sagged against it. He didn't want to
see this.
He turned to go, find another route back even if he had to climb out a window
to do it. He could  not  walk through that room.
“Promise me you'll at least try and sleep, Hange.” Armin was hurrying back
along the corridor when he heard Erwin's voice, followed by the sound of a door
closing and footsteps. Shit. If he was heading to the kitchen for a late night
cup of tea he was going to walk right in to Eren and Levi's little meeting, and
Armin was quite sure their commander would be sharp enough to know what sort of
meeting it was.
Armin figured he had three options: one, climb out a window, head back to the
barracks and pretend he was never there, two: clump back to the mess as loudly
as he could giving Eren and Levi time to separate, or three: run interference
with Erwin and let them do their thing a while longer.
It was no contest, really; the third option gave him some time with Erwin, even
if all he got out of it was a dressing-down for being out after curfew.
He straightened his spine and kept walking.
“Armin,” Erwin was carrying two empty cups, presumably taking them back to the
kitchen from Hange's lab.
“Good evening, sir.” Armin saluted.
“You're up late,” he said, and the way he said it clearly required some sort of
explanation for this fact. He wasn't going to chip him just yet. He trusted
that Armin had reasons for the things he did to a certain extent.
Armin thought back to Eren and Levi and his resolve wavered. Maybe he should
try and stop this before it went too far. He didn't know. Erwin might have some
advice, if he kept it general.
“Actually, I was looking for you, sir.” In the last thirty seconds, it was
true, but it wasn't a lie. “I need advice.” He lowered his hand.
Erwin cast about and eventually put the cups on a nearby windowsill. “All
right, Armin, I'll do my best.”
“Right.” Deep breath. “The rules about fraternisation are pretty clear, in
theory. But I suppose I was wondering how they're applied in practice in the
Survey Corps.”
Erwin blinked at him. “Oh. Oh that sort of advice.” He shrugged, a bit
helplessly. “I'm not really sure I'm the right person to approach.” He thought
about this for a few moments, running through the other possibilities in his
head. “Well, I suppose you could have done worse. Armin, look, we know you're
young and under a lot of stress, and we also know rules are almost impossible
to enforce. Basically, don't get caught and we don't want to know about it.”
“No, I didn't mean among recruits, Sir. I meant.” He looked up into Erwin's
eyes, “Between a recruit and an officer, sir. I know it seems really wrong, but
if they both understood the limitations of of their roles and obviously tried
not to get caught.” He recalled Eren's expression, and Levi's soft laugh and
found himself mounting a defence rather than asking a question. “Being happy
for a little while, because they could both use some of that, I think.” He
smiled, hopefully.
The colour seemed to have drained from Erwin's face. He tried to say something
and then sighed and leant against the wall. “Oh, Armin.”
No. Wait. He'd completely got the wrong idea. Oh shit. That wasn't what Armin
had meant at all and his face felt like it was on fire. He drew breath to
explain, to out Eren and Levi if need be but the words died in his throat when
Erwin lifted a hand and brushed his cheek.
“I tried to hide it,” Erwin muttered.
“You did a good job; I had no idea,” Armin heard himself saying. He could hear
his own heartbeat.
“Brave, aren't you then?”
“No, I completely-” He forgot what he was going to say when Erwin's finger
curled under his chin, tilting his face up.
“What's one more sin?” Erwin murmured, and bent down to brush his lips against
Armin's. It wasn't his first kiss, as both Mikasa and Eren had kissed him
before, but it felt like it. It felt like something had been torn away when
Erwin straightened up again. Armin chased it. He stepped forward and put his
hands on either side of Erwin's face, and popped up on his toes and chased it,
hungry.
Erwin let himself be captured. Armin could feel his ambivalence, the way he
still held himself back, and Armin didn't push it for now, braving a taste of
his lips but no further. Erwin wrapped his arms around him and Armin sank into
his warmth. It was too new, too exhilarating to feel like coming home, but it
still was a wonderful place to be.
Armin chuckled.
“What?” Erwin asked.
“You know, I wasn't actually talking about us, earlier.”
He looked up to see Erwin frown. “Then?” His expression cleared and his lips
thinned, “Oh, I see. That half-pint little deviant. He knows the rules-”
He released Armin and made to leave and Armin grabbed his arm.
“Erwin!” He gave him a look. “That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?”
Erwin hesitated. “Where are they?”
“In the mess.”
“I suppose they can't get up to much there.” He relaxed and Armin did too. “Do
you want to?” He looked at Armin uncertainly, “Oh, I don't know, go back to the
library for a while?” He asked like he half-expected Armin would turn him down.
“I would really like that.” He didn't let go of Erwin's arm, and Erwin didn't
shake him off.
The next time Armin saw Levi, they were saddling up for more training. He
jumped when the Captain put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not bad, Armin. Not bad.”
Armin smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
“But tell our fearless leader not to leave dirty cups in weird places next
time.”
***** Stained Hands *****
Armin wasn't trying to wash away the blood with ink.
He'd articulated the idea when the three of them had stood by the ocean and
wondered 'what next?' There was no shortage of things to do, but the war was
over and they were free to choose. He wanted the truth to exist in physical
form, because he knew a hundred years was a short time and vested interests
would hijack their myth if they didn't guard against it. As soon as he hit upon
the idea he knew he had no choice but to see it through.
Eren helped a lot. He was rebuilding the Survey Corps in his own image; to
protect and guide humanity out of the broken shell of the collapsed walls and
to avoid war with the other people they now knew lived out there. No matter how
busy he got, every time Armin sent over a bundle of handwritten pages they'd be
back in a couple of days with comments and changes appended to them. Mikasa
read the draft as well, but seemed content to leave it mostly in Armin's hands.
Hange was writing their own series of books.
Levi said he preferred not go over the past, and went back to cleaning out the
Underground, hauling out forgotten children from the lightless slums into the
sun and giving them a chance at a life of their own.
The only other person Armin could have enlisted to help was Erwin, but Armin
didn't consult him. For political reasons he'd been politely exiled to the tea
plantation that was once within wall Sina, and Armin knew he was tired of
putting words in people's mouths anyway. He sent Levi tea on a regular basis,
and that was the only way they could be sure he was even still alive. He'd
looked so tired at the end; he'd forced a smile to express genuine gratitude to
the Queen when she'd pronounced his sentence, and Armin knew he thought he
deserved much, much worse for his crimes.
Armin worked day and night. Occasionally his friends would drag him outside for
a few hours, but his book consumed him. He had to get it all down correctly. It
was important. It was also secret; humanity never changed, and Armin wanted his
work complete and already distributed before the politicians passed judgement
on it. So he didn't hire one of the commercial or government printers. Eren
syphoned off some Survey Corps funding and bought an entire printing machine
for Armin instead.
Armin learned to use it himself, setting the tiny blocks of letters and
figuring out the mechanism. His hands, and quite often parts of his face, were
stained black most of the time. He gave up trying to wash it off; he ate ink-
smudged sandwiches. The cuffs of his shirts turned black. Months passed.
And when it was printed he took the folded sheets to a bookmaker, who sewed
them into leather. One for one for Eren, one for Mikasa, one for Hange, one for
the Survey Corps, one for the Queen – this first edition was only twelve
copies. Armin put the spares in a bank vault for now, and packed the twelfth
copy along with the unstained parts of his wardrobe in a satchel and borrowed a
Survey Corps horse. He headed for the interior, or what everyone still thought
of as the interior. The walls were gone, but the language was resistant to
change.
He wasn't sure what to expect, but what he found was pleasant enough. A gentle
hillside was covered in rows of tea plants, the leaves patiently plucked by
workers with large baskets strapped to their backs. The main house was still
occupied by the owner, who kept her royal appointment, and when Armin reached
the main gates he was greeted with cautious civility by the manservant and
informed that Erwin lived in a caretaker's cottage further up the hill. His
horse was led to the stables and his bags carried into the guest room, but not
before Armin unpacked the book and tucked it under his arm before following the
directions to Erwin's house.
The cottage was hidden away near a strand of trees at the edge of the property.
It was small and quiet, and Armin paused at the gate and looked in at a
slightly overgrown garden.
“Hello? Erwin? It's Armin,” he called.
“Armin!” The familiar voice was behind him, and he turned to see Erwin walking
up the slope in his wake. “They told me you were here. I was in the fields.
It's good to see you.”
“Likewise, sir.”
He grimaced. “Please don't call me sir.”
They halted and eyed each other up and down. Erwin was sporting a neat beard,
which was shot through with grey; probably easier to take care of with one hand
than shaving. He looked all right, all things considered. His skin was sun
darkened and he was wearing simple peasant clothes and a large straw hat. A
haunted air clung to him still, but whatever the state of his spirit his body
looked better nourished at least.
“They make you work in the fields?” Armin asked.
“No, a one-armed tea picker is not much use. Ostensibly my job is to supervise,
but they don't need my help. I pull the odd weed, feed the goats. You look very
pale; you're not sick, are you?” Such concern in his eyes.
Armin shook his head, “I suppose I do look pretty awful. I've been working very
hard recently.”
“Well, come inside and have a drink. It's warm out here.” He didn't ask about
the book, still smelling of glue and leather, its pages uncut. Perhaps he
should have cut them; Armin hadn't thought of that.
They sat at a wooden table and Erwin served water from the nearby stream
flavoured with some lemon from his own garden. It was too hot for tea; summer
was nearly there.
Armin got to the point. He put the book on the table in front of him, and slid
it across towards Erwin.
“This copy is yours. If you don't object, I would like to hear what you think
of it.”
The title was embossed on the cover: To You, 2000 Years From Now: A History of
the Past Hundred Years Including an Eyewitness Account of the Last Ten.
Erwin rested his hand on the cover, regarding it thoughtfully.
“I see. You've been busy.”
“Please take your time,” Armin said. “I'm planning on staying for a few weeks;
I need a holiday, some fresh air. I won't get in your way; I'll stay at the
house, of course-”
Erwin held up his hand and smiled. “I'm looking forward to it. I have missed my
old friends.”
They passed the afternoon peacefully, Armin catching Erwin up on all that their
friends had been up to. He avoided talking about politics, and Erwin avoided
asking about it. When he left at the sound of the dinner gong from the main
house, Erwin promised to start reading his book that evening.
The next morning he hurried back to Erwin's house, and found the man himself
sitting at the table, the remains of breakfast next to him as he continued to
read. He had a sharp knife next to him, and he cut the pages one-handed with a
deft flick of the wrist.
He put the knife down when Armin appeared and rose to greet him.
“Thank you,” he said softly, and Armin knew what he was referring to. The title
page had a printed dedication: Dedicated to the memory of Johannes Smith, and
to all other seekers and preservers of truth, who keep the light when all else
is dark.When he'd heard the story of Erwin's father Armin had known he would
have been a kindred spirit, and he could think of no better person to dedicate
his work to. Armin had added a personal dedication underneath in ink: For Erwin
Smith, who demanded everything for the greater good of humanity, and yet asked
nothing for himself. He'd drafted and redrafted the dedication for weeks, and
Armin still wasn't entirely happy about it, but Erwin seemed appreciative, and
that's what counted.
As much as Armin wanted to know what Erwin thought, and he was still obviously
making his way through the history part of the book. Erwin closed it and put
his dishes in the sink and suggested he show Armin around the plantation.
It became a ritual. Armin would visit after breakfast and they'd spend the
morning 'supervising' and generally lazily enjoying the sunshine, and Erwin
would make lunch in a kitchen carefully outfitted to assist a cook with one
hand, and in the afternoon he'd read in the back yard.
Armin had spent so long writing, it felt strange not to have a pen in his hand,
so he wrote letters, although he had little to say, and sketched birds and
flowers and occasionally, slyly, his companion.
They went trout fishing in the stream, now that Erwin had someone to help him
bait his hooks and land the fish. It was a  revelation , in a quiet way, to see
Erwin without the mantle of Commander. He wasn't that different in his manner,
but something had softened about him, something undefined and  restful  and
Armin was so relieved it was there. The days were  pleasant, but always in the
back of Armin's mind was the question; what did Erwin think of the book?
Sometimes he couldn't bear to watch him read it, and he'd roll over and try and
nap on the lawn. Erwin didn't mention it either.
Armin had been there nearly two weeks when his nerve cracked. They had spent
the morning climbing the hill above the plantation, and they were sitting among
the long grass and wildflowers, looking down at the workers in the fields below
and beyond them in the distance the hazy jumbled shape of the capital.
“What do you think of it so far?” Armin asked, not quite game to look at
Erwin's face. He didn't answer for a while and Armin continued. “Just what
you've read so far.”
“I actually finished it three nights ago,” Erwin said, and Armin shot him a
sharp glance. Even after all this time he played his cards close. “I wanted to
reread some parts and think about it before I told you. You should be proud,
Armin, it's a fine piece of work, and your dedication to recording events as
they happened, not as we might wish they'd happened, deserves respect.”
“Thank you, Erwin.”
“I would have expected no less from you.”
Armin flushed. Compliments from Erwin were rare, and he treasured them.
Erwin took a deep breath, apparently marshalling his thoughts.
“I know what you've done, Armin. I know what that book is. You've taken every
objection I might have raised and refuted it. I cannot call you ignorant, when
you know so much. I cannot question your judgement, when you have so thoroughly
examined all my faults. I cannot question your dedication or sincerity.”
Armin frowned and bit his lip and wondered if it would be too obvious if he
untied his hair so he could hide behind it. Probably.
“You've written the world's longest and strangest love letter, and I can only
imagine what future scholars will think of the author's heart soaring when his
inhumane commander returns to battle.”
Armin smiled a bit at that. “You're not inhumane,” he said.
“I tried to be.”
“That's over now. The book's written. Whatever happens after this, history
won't remember.”
“All you've left me is the option to accept or refuse. I taught you a lot,
didn't I?”
Armin didn't know what to say, so he merely smiled. For once his words were
failing him, but he always knew they would. It's why he wrote them down.
“I don't deserve you,” Erwin said.
Armin reached out and took his hand. “None of us want what we deserve.” He
certainly didn't. His breath caught when Erwin moved his hand, turning it over
so he could grasp Armin's in strong, calloused fingers.
“I'll try not to disappoint you, Armin.” He made good on his word by leaning
over and kissing him, and for a moment the sound of Armin's own heart drowned
out the buzzing of bees and the wind rustling the wildflowers.
***** Alternate Universe - Little Yellow Umbrella *****
It was Friday evening, and Erwin was too big for his umbrella. It had been a
perfectly sunny day when he'd left for work that morning, but all afternoon
he'd watched the clouds piling up outside through his office window with
mounting concern. It would have been fine if he'd gone home with everyone else,
but he hated having things hanging over from Friday on Monday morning and he
did what he usually did, which was knuckle down and get through it before
returning home for some well-earned pizza in front of the television.
He could only wish he was eating pizza in front of the television right now.
By the time he'd left work the skies were dark, and the thunder was loud enough
to be heard even through the double-glazed windows. There was a collection of
umbrellas that had been left in the office over the years, for emergency use
should someone be caught on just such a night, but he clearly wasn't the only
one who'd had to make use of them today.
There was one umbrella left. A bright yellow one so small Erwin suspected it
belonged to one of Erd's kids. He sighed. Better than nothing, he supposed.
At least it wasn't too windy. The rain came straight down, and the umbrella
kept his head and shoulders mostly dry as he slogged through sodden city to his
bus stop. If he'd anticipated the rain he could have taken his car as well as
his umbrella but hindsight is 20-20 and all that.
There was one other person waiting at the bus stop, a little old lady with a
bag of shopping and an enormous black umbrella; at least she was dry.
Erwin stood next to her, holding his laptop case close to his body to try and
keep it dry, and waited.
And waited.
He glanced down the street every thirty seconds, scanning the oncoming traffic
with his eyes narrowed against the glare of the headlights for the bus. He
listened to the rain pattering on the plastic of his ridiculous umbrella and
replayed the similar scene from My Neighbour Totoro in his head about fifty
times in an attempt to approach the situation whimsically.
No bus showed up, furred or otherwise. He glanced at the old lady occasionally;
she looked like she was asleep on her feet but he couldn't think of anything he
could do to help. Rainwater collected in his shoes; he was soaked from the
knees down, water was trickling down his right sleeve and he was starting to
feel thoroughly miserable.
He pictured his warm, dry apartment longingly. He was hungry, too; pizza seemed
a long way away.
Hurried footsteps preceded the arrival of a third would-be passenger, a young
man with dark hair, no umbrella, and a leather jacket.
“Hey,” he said. “How long have you been waiting?”
“About twenty minutes,” Erwin replied.
“What? They're supposed to come every fifteen!” he said in an offended tone
Erwin knew that and he shrugged, irritated. It wasn't like it was his fault the
bus wasn't here. The young man bent down to peer at the old lady.
“Is she okay?”
“She's been waiting longer than I have.” The thought guilted them both into
silence, and the young man stoically huddled into his jacket to wait.
Erwin was starting to wonder if it was worthwhile calling a taxi instead when
the young man suddenly shouted, waving his arms and stepping out towards the
traffic.
“Hey! Over here!”
Erwin looked up expecting the bus, but it was a van that pulled up. Stage Left
Theatre Co. was stencilled on the side.
“Hey Armin!” The young man grinned as the driver wound the window down. With
nothing else to entertain him, Erwin watched with interest and met the eyes of
a startlingly pretty young man with long blonde hair. He smiled at Erwin,
probably amused by his umbrella, and Erwin found himself smiling back but the
young man, Armin apparently, had turned his attention to his friend.
“Need a lift?” They were practically shouting to make themselves heard over the
sound of the rain and thunder.
“Yeah but,” the young man glanced over his shoulder. “The old lady has been
here for ages.”
The driver twisted around to look into the interior of the van. “There's no
room in the back for anyone.”
“Okay, then take her. I can't get any wetter, and besides I've only been here
five minutes. That guy's been there twenty.” He indicated Erwin with a wave of
his hand.
Armin looked at him again, and Erwin gave him a resigned smile. What else could
he do? Armin smiled back at him, and his heart thumped. Cute as hell, Erwin
thought. Go on, help the old lady then come back for your buddy; I'll probably
still be here when you do.
Armin frowned, obviously thinking.
“Okay, I got this.”
To Erwin's surprise he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the van, ducking
his head a little and squinting against the rain. He was wearing skinny jeans
and a t-shirt that was almost instantly plastered to a lean, lithe body. Erwin
appreciated the view and wondered what on earth he was up to.
“You drive the lady home, Eren. I'll wait for the bus.”
“Wait, what?” Eren looked utterly confused. The van's engine was still running
and Armin hurried over and ducked under the old lady's umbrella to explain the
situation.
“Oh yes, thank you dears. You're too kind.”
Armin lent her his arm and Eren, still looking somewhat puzzled, opened the
passenger door and the two young men helped her inside, along with her
shopping.
“I'll come back for you?” Eren asked. Erwin was by now paying very close
attention, although Armin was carefully not looking at him.
“It's fine. I'll catch the bus. You've been up since six, so go home and eat.
I'll catch you up later.”
Eren glanced at Erwin. “What if he's a serial killer?” he asked loudly and
Armin turned a deep shade of red.
“Will you just go already? I'm trying to be nice.”
“All right, all right.” He gave Erwin a stern look before hurrying around to
the driver's seat and climbing in.
Armin stood next to Erwin and waved as the van pulled away, water dripping off
the ends of his hair. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments as
thunder rolled across the sky.
“That was one of the smoothest things I've ever seen,” Erwin said.
Armin laughed, and brushed wet hair away from his face. “You think so?”
“I do. I'm Erwin.”
“I'm Armin.” He looked up at him. “I like your umbrella.”
“It's not mine.” Erwin held it out towards him a little, feeling the water line
creep further across his back as he did so and Armin stepped up next to him to
share it, for all the good it would do, still smiling shyly. Erwin realised
that his wet socks and damp hair and empty stomach weren't bothering him at all
any more, and just like that this miserable Friday night had become something
entirely unexpected.
“I thought you looked like Totoro, with your tiny umbrella,” Armin said, his
voice warm with laughter. “Um, it's from a kid's movie-”
Erwin nodded, “I know it. I was thinking about the resemblance myself earlier.”
“Really, you like it?” A pause, and a cautious look. “You don't have kids or
anything, do you?”
“I'm single,” Erwin reassured him.
Armin stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and rocked forward on
his toes, smiling. “Cool.”
“Yeah.” It had been along time since Erwin last thought of his bachelorhood as
cool, but right now it definitely was.
Armin's smile was so distracting, Erwin almost missed the bus going past. They
flagged it down at the last moment and tumbled aboard, soaking wet and
grinning. The bus pulled away and they spent the trip discussing My Neighbour
Totoro and Erwin's blu-ray collection in general. Somehow, by the time the bus
pulled up at Erwin's stop, Armin was texting Eren to let him know he'd be a
couple of hours late and would get dinner elsewhere and Erwin was asking him
what kind of pizza he liked and the rain had mostly stopped but neither of them
noticed, huddling under a small yellow umbrella and discussing what they should
watch first.
***** Role Swap *****
It was the first time they’d been alone since it had happened. A hospital bed,
a courtroom, a gallows- Armin had begun to resign himself to the fact that they
were never going to see each other again. Yet here they were.
The door closed behind them and they stared at each other for one long moment
before Armin closed the gap and flung his arms around Erwin. He pressed his ear
against his chest and closed his eyes to better listen to his breath, his
heartbeat.
“Armin.” Erwin wrapped his arm around Armin’s shoulders and squeezed him in
that manner he had in which his muscles tensed with all his strength and yet he
did not crush- it was like being hugged by a statue sometimes, but Armin
understood both the force and the gentleness.
He gazed at the stump of Erwin’s right arm, hidden within the empty sleeve of
his shirt.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Fine,” Erwin said, and Armin knew it wasn’t- knew he wasn’t, but demanding
more details of him wouldn’t help matters. “I want you,” Erwin said, his lips
pressed to the top of his head.
  “Yes, of course,” Armin breathed. He didn’t know if Erwin would feel well
enough to do anything, so he wasn’t going to push it, but he’d hoped, despite
the bruises on his face, despite the arm, that they could make the most of
whatever time they had. He tilted his head up and gazed at Erwin, so glad he
was still alive, still with them, still       himself.        Armin had seen
too much torture recently to trust that even if they got him back he wouldn’t
be...damaged somehow.
Ever since they got Eren back from Reiner, things had skidded more and more out
of control, and Armin felt himself scrambling to keep up; he didn’t have enough
pieces to put together the right plans, they were anticipated, betrayed, and
just plain wrong sometimes and he hated it. But they had Erwin back and maybe
things were going to start looking up.
“Leave everything to me,” Armin said, but to his surprise, Erwin frowned.
  “No. I mean, yes, but.” He looked away and then back again. “Don’t be
gentle.” His hand went to his throat but he wasn’t wearing his tie. Armin
understood the gesture anyway. He wanted to play       that        game? Now?
And then Armin understood. Of course he did. And Armin did too, for as much as
Erwin wanted someone else to take responsibility, Armin wanted just as much to
take control. He stepped back from Erwin, and felt the atmosphere change
between them. Normally Armin would wear his tie, a physical symbol of their new
roles, but tonight they’d have to do without a prop.
He only had one arm. No. If Armin asked too much of him, he trusted Erwin would
say something.
“You’re a mess, aren’t you?” Armin said, tilting his head back so he could look
down at Erwin despite his height.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” Armin stalked around him, looking him up and down. “At least nothing
really important was damaged.” He grabbed a handful of Erwin’s arse and watched
him stiffen in response. “Right?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Well, strip. You’re no use to me clothed. No use to anyone clothed.” He didn’t
sneer, he spoke matter of factly, and he felt a jolt in his loins when Erwin
abruptly started unbuttoning his shirt, clumsily, undoing the first two buttons
before tearing it off over his head. “Eager, aren’t you?” Armin said. “Good
boy.”
He was eager. His pants went next, and his magnificent cock was already
standing at attention.
“You’ve been neglected.” Armin ran his hand down Erwin’s spine, standing behind
him for now so he wouldn’t see the pained expression on his face when he saw
all of Erwin’s bruises. It would spoil the act, he knew. “It’s been far too
long since you were fucked, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You missed it. What did you miss?”
“Your cock, sir.”
“Where?”
“In my mouth, and in my arse, sir.”
“No one else’s will do it for you, huh?”
“I wouldn’t let anyone else try, sir.”
Armin raised his eyebrows. Erwin liked to play the cheap and easy tart usually,
anyone’s to be taken, worthless unless wrapped around a cock, but things had
changed a bit since then, Armin thought.
“You’ve been very, very good, haven’t you?” Armin stepped around in front of
him to look at Erwin’s face. His eyes were modestly downcast, but his breathing
gave him away. Armin was still fully clothed, but he wished he wasn’t. “Would
you like a reward?” Armin asked coyly, running a knuckle along the underside of
Erwin’s cock, making it twitch. Game or no game, he liked giving as well as
receiving and he’d missed the taste of him. But Erwin frowned, and Armin went
with it; sometimes it was hard to know what Erwin wanted, and they hadn’t had
time to discuss it beforehand.
“Oops, too slow,” Armin laughed, letting him off the hook. “You can wait your
turn like a good boy. Now get on the bed, on your hands and knees.”
Only now did Armin start taking off his clothes. He made a lot of noise,
clinking his harness and dropping his boots a little, so Erwin could hear what
he was doing, but couldn’t see. It was such a relief to get his cock out of his
pants at last. Erwin was mouthwatering like this, all dutiful and quiet and
pliant, and it made Armin desperate to hear him scream.
He walked around to the side of the bed. Erwin had aligned himself sideways so
Armin had a choice of his mouth or his arse; so thoughtful. And frankly it was
less awkward if Armin kept his feet on the ground; the bed was the right height
to compensate for their difference in size.
At first Armin had felt a bit silly, like he needed to grow into Erwin like a
new pair of shoes, but having this big, muscled blonde obey the lightest touch
of his hand, the quietest whisper was even more satisfying than pushing him
around. Erwin was propped up on his one remaining elbow and his bandaged stump,
and that seemed to work okay, his arse in the air invitingly.
“Look at you,” Armin said. “Exactly where you belong. And you know it, don’t
you? You were made for this.”
He approached, trailing his fingers up Erwin’s back, and digging them into a
relatively un-bruised patch of his shoulder. Erwin’s eyes were shut and his
mouth was slightly open.
Armin grinned wickedly and taking his cock in hand, pressed it against Erwin’s
parted lips.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes, sir,” Erwin mumbled, his lips catching on Armin’s foreskin. Armin could
see a smear of precome on his chin. But he didn’t move. Not going to disobey
and do something he didn’t have permission to do? But he liked punishments so
much, usually.
Armin was beginning to run out of willpower. It had been so long.
“Fucking suck it then,” he said roughly, and as he swung his hips forward
Erwin’s jaw dropped and his mouth engulfed him. Erwin squeezed his eyes shut
harder, and Armin could feel his tongue on the underside of his cock as he
swallowed. And then he sucked, his cheeks hollowing, and Armin groaned.
“You’re good at this,” he breathed, running his fingers through Erwin’s hair.
“You’re so good.”
Erwin started moving his head, his nose touching Armin’s pubic hair every time
he bowed his head down, Armin’s cock sliding down his throat. “Greedy,” Armin
panted, rocking his hips forward. “Desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” He was
beginning to forget how to form words properly and with an unhappy whine he
pulled himself free of Erwin’s willing mouth before he came and ended the game
early.
“Good, good boy,” Armin ran his thumb over Erwin’s swollen lips. Erwin nodded.
“You’re working so hard, even for a desperate, dirty little thing like you.” He
cupped Erwin’s jaw and tilted his face up. “What is it you want?”
Erwin looked at him with glazed, teary eyes. “Hit me,” he muttered in a
desperate, broken tone.
“That’s a… punishment.” Armin was confused, thrown out of the scene for a
moment. Where on earth could he hit him anyway, he was already so battered it
didn’t seem right to smack a bruise- “Oh, you want to be spanked?” he still
wasn’t certain.
“Yes sir,” Erwin whispered.
“What was that?” Armin asked. “What do you want? You’ve been so well-behaved up
until now, so answer clearly.” He was definitely going to have a word about
organising what activities were on the menu beforehand next time. But not
tonight; he understood that tonight Erwin didn’t want punishment, he wanted
praise.
“Spank me, fuck me, please. Sir.” Erwin looked up at him, desperate, but his
voice was clear.
“Oh.” He took Armin’s breath away sometimes. “Oh yes, you’ve earned it, you’ve
done so well.”
Normally Erwin would prepare himself, putting on a show while Armin told him
how filthy he was, but he couldn’t do it one-armed unless he changed position
and right now he was perfectly placed, as far as Armin was concerned.
“Don’t move,” he said. “You’ll get your reward.”
Erwin nodded, and Armin darted back to his clothes to look for the oil. This
was his favourite part; his fingers or Erwin’s, either way this was when the
older man always started coming undone.
“Okay.” Armin warmed the oil in his hands first and then started working it
into Erwin’s arse. “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “You’ll get all of your
reward in time, just be patient. Although I can see you’re not.”
Erwin made a small, choked sound in response.
“This is almost as eager as your mouth,” Armin said. “Can you feel that?” He
worked his thumb in up to the knuckle and bent it just so and Erwin bucked
against empty air.
“Yessss,” he breathed. “Sir.”
Armin started finger-fucking him in earnest, and when he’d worked out a nice
rhythm he slapped Erwin’s arse with his other hand. He didn’t hit him anything
approaching hard; the skin didn’t even redden, but Erwin yelped, and the sound
went straight to Armin’s dick.
“You don’t have to be quiet,” Armin said, readying another blow. “Just let it
all out, good boy. You’ve earned your reward.”
He slapped him a few more times and then switched hands. Erwin’s reddening arse
was soon shiny with oil, and Erwin himself writhed and sobbed, utterly lost to
everything but Armin’s fingers. Armin wondered if he was going to come just
watching him. He felt drunk on power; this was what he could make the great
Erwin Smith become. This was what Erwin wanted him to do to him.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Armin said, hoarse. “Okay.” He wasn’t sure Erwin had
heard him. “Nod, please.”
Erwin nodded. Okay.
He didn’t need to be gentle at this point. He slicked himself up and stood up-
he’d been kneeling on the bed- and took a deep breath before grabbing Erwin’s
hips and holding him still while he buried his cock in his arse.
“Armin!”
Armin stilled himself with an effort, wondering if he'd hurt him, but Erwin
merely muttered 'thank you' over and over.
“Yes, you're welcome, good, polite boy. You took that so nicely.” Armin's hips
were flush with Erwin's arse, so he couldn't keep spanking him, but he knew
what else Erwin liked. He fucked him hard, as if he didn't care about anything
but his own release, and when he felt it coming he eased off, gritting his
teeth and forcing it back. Erwin wouldn't come, he knew, until Armin stroked
him off, and in the meantime he could do as he pleased and the more selfish he
was the more Erwin would like it.
Armin's hair swung in front of his eyes and he gave up trying to tell Erwin how
good and how dirty he was because he couldn't seem to form the words any more.
But he noticed Erwin had started to twist, putting more weight on his remaining
arm. Time to wrap this up; Erwin was lost in his own torturous pleasure, but
Armin would take care of him. He reached down and wrapped his hand around
Erwin's cock, and this time he didn't back off when he felt his balls tighten
and his hips snapped forward faster and more desperately.
He felt Erwin swell in his hand, impossibly hard and he knew he was coming,
finally, yelling into the bedsheets and that was what Armin had been waiting
for, coming in Erwin's arse with a series of hoarse choked gasps. He thought he
saw stars.
As soon as he pulled out Erwin collapsed on his side, and Armin slumped over
him for a few minutes, regaining his breath. He crawled up alongside him and
cradled his face. Erwin looked almost asleep.
“Hey,” Armin said.
Erwin smiled. “Hey. I missed you. I missed you a lot.”
“Yeah, me too.” He pressed his lips to his forehead and staggered off to find a
cloth to clean Erwin up. Once he'd done so he brushed the hair out of his eyes
and told him he was facing the wrong way to get into the covers and gently
nudged Erwin in the right direction, pulling back the sheet for him so he could
crawl in.
He asked if he wanted tea but Erwin only wanted water, and Armin fetched it for
him, secretly rather glad he didn't have to put his clothes on and face whoever
might be keeping watch while he went and made tea (he hadn't asked about the
roster; hadn't cared, and he knew Levi didn't expect him to take a turn tonight
anyway.)
He crawled in beside him and wrapped his arms around Erwin's shoulders and
Erwin pressed his face to his chest, for once the shorter one.
“I'm glad we can still do this,” Erwin said finally.
“We will always be able to do this,” Armin said firmly. “If we live. Right
until we're too old to get it up.”
He felt Erwin chuckle, but drifted off before he could say anything further.
***** Hurt and Comfort *****
Erwin was twenty-two and this was his fourth expedition. The expedition was due
to leave Shiganshina half an hour ago, but some sort of screw-up he wasn’t
privy to had meant a solid two hour delay. Everyone, save for a handful of
guards to prevent any thieves getting their hands on Survey Corps supplies, was
told to amuse themselves in the meantime.
Shiganshina was nice enough, Erwin supposed, but he knew no one here and there
was nothing of particular interest he wanted to see nor anything he could
imagine wanting to buy. He saved his precious coins for notebooks and extra
food.
So he wandered aimlessly, feeling jangly and at a loose end; he’d nerved
himself up for yet another expedition and now he just wanted to go. And,
hopefully, come back alive.
The sound of children caught his attention and he noticed a ring of youngsters
chanting taunts around one of their number, a small boy with blonde hair. The
latter was crying and trying to mount some sort of defence, but couldn’t be
heard over the insults; something about his parents being crazy and air-headed.
“Hey!” Erwin strode towards them and it was enough to see an adult in uniform
paying attention to make them scatter, laughing.
He was left with the boy. He stared up at Erwin with huge blue eyes, wary and
quiet.
“Are you okay?”
He looked dusty but uninjured. He pressed his lips together and more tears
rolled down his cheeks. Erwin sighed and crouched down so he didn’t loom over
him; he couldn’t be more than about five or six. Just tell me you’re okay, he
thought, and my duty will be done. He didn’t want to draw attention, and he
didn’t know how to talk to kids; it would look bad if the boy started bawling.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He realised the boy was staring at the insignia on
his jacket. Ah, insight; the kid was old enough to realise he wasn't wearing
the Garrison insignia he'd be familiar with. “This means I’m a member of the
Survey Corps. I’m not the Military Police.”
Those were the magic words. The boy took a few cautious steps closer and Erwin
smiled at him.
“I wanna go home,” the boy said quietly, his voice hitching.
“Okay, I’ll take you home. I’m Erwin. Can you show me the way?”
The boy nodded and when Erwin straightened up and offered him his hand, he took
it. It was dusty and covered with snot, rather like the boy himself, but Erwin
was committed now and let the boy lead him through the town.
“Is it much further?” Erwin asked. He was starting to worry about the time. He
didn’t want to be late. “I have to go over the wall today. I think we should
pick up the pace.”
“Really?” The boy stopped altogether and stared up at him. “You’ve been over
the wall? Tell me what’s it’s like.”
“It’s.” Erwin was lost for words.  Terrifying. Horrible. Amazing. He wanted to
neither encourage nor scare the kid. “Look, let’s get you home fast. Come on,
I’ll carry you.” He knelt down and the boy scrambled into his arms, apparently
having decided that he was a friend. Erwin lifted him up and the boy peppered
him with unnervingly specific questions about the lands outside the wall, while
he clutched at Erwin’s cloak.
We look like father and son, he thought.
“Is it big?”
“Yes, it’s big.”
“Are there mountains?”
“I’ve seen them in the distance.”
“Are there fish?”
“Um. I suppose there are.”
“Did you eat the fish?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s my house.” He pointed and Erwin sighed with relief. “Hey, I’m home,
come and see!”
Erwin got the distinct feeling the kid wanted to adopt him like a stray puppy,
given the proud smile he had on his face when his mother appeared at the door.
“What happened?” she asked, and Erwin noted she paid close attention to his
insignia as well.
“He got a bit lost,” he said diplomatically, and the look on her face told him
she knew roughly what had really happened. The boy detached himself and went to
his mother’s arms, and Erwin was thanked and invited in for something to eat
but he had to go.
The boy waved as he walked away and Erwin waved back.
And then he forgot about it entirely; his light-hearted mood lasted only as
long as it took to rejoin the expedition, and the subsequent events drove the
inconsequential incident from his mind entirely.
Until now.
He’d been looking for Grisha. There was a reasonable chance that his activities
had drawn the attention of the Military Police at one point or another, and
Erwin was leafing through the records Levi’s squad had unearthed during their
fruitless search of the Police HQ for Eren. He hadn’t found Grisha, but he had
found George and Tabitha Arlet, and the pieces clicked into place as he
remembered a sunny morning and a child in need of comfort.
He wasn’t allowed one single thing, was he, he thought bitterly. There was
nothing in his life that wasn’t shadowed.
He slammed the book shut as his vision blurred and he covered his face with his
hand. It wasn’t a good time for anyone to intrude, so naturally he heard a
polite knock and the door open behind him.
“What?” he grated out.
“Commander Hange.” It was Armin, of course it was. “Says you’re to eat
something and I have to make sure you do, sir.”
“Tell Hange I don’t need a nursemaid,” he said, as Armin approached. He could
smell the food and he was hungry, but at the same time the thought of it turned
his stomach. Armin set the bowl of stew on the table next to him.
He didn’t remember, did he? He hadn’t mentioned it.
He glanced up at Armin through his fingers and Armin gave him a sympathetic
look.
“Did you find someone you know?” he asked hesitantly, wary of stepping over any
lines.
“In a manner of speaking,” he replied. Armin deserved to know. “I found you.”
“What?”
“‘Armin Arlet, seven years old. He is not considered a security risk and no
further action is recommended.’ I’m sorry, Armin. They killed your parents.”
“I know,” Armin said calmly. He gave Erwin a sad little smile, “I mean, I
haven’t thought they might be alive for a long time. With what we know now
about the Military Police, it’s not really a surprise. But thank you.”
He’d come a long way from the boy crying in the dirt. Now Erwin looked at him,
really looked at him, he wasn’t surprised he hadn’t recognised him; he’d grown
up and seen and suffered so much loss.
  “       I’ll tell Hange you’re eating,” Armin said, withdrawing to give him
some space.
Erwin realised he didn’t want him to go. “Do you remember the first time we
met?” he asked.
“The night we chose to join the Survey Corps?” Armin asked.
“Much, much earlier than that. You probably don’t remember. I’d forgotten it
myself.”
Armin was drifting closer again, curious. Erwin pushed the chair back a little,
distancing himself from the horrible book on the table in front of him.
“You were very small, and I was just a soldier. I was quite young. And you were
getting teased, so I took you home. I met your mother.” She would have been
dead in another year, he realised, and he wondered how the Arlets had stood to
leave their son behind. They had to have known what they were risking, just
like his father had.
Armin chewed on his lip and frowned. “I think...I think I remember my mother
telling me about it. About the Survey Corps.” His gaze traversed Erwin’s face
as he tried to remember. “That was you,” he breathed.
“Small world,” Erwin said.
What happened next he was entirely unprepared for. Armin deliberately stepped
closer and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He gave Erwin time to draw
back if he wanted to, but acted without hesitation.
“I owe you,” he said, as if that were enough of an explanation.
Erwin sat there stunned for a few moments and then he cautiously wrapped his
arm around Armin, and let his forehead rest against his chest. He smelled of
sweat and gear oil and life, and Erwin realised he hadn’t been held in a very
long time.
“It’s a miracle either of us is still alive,” he said.
“Yeah. I’m glad you made it, sir.”
“Me too, Armin. Thank you.”
Armin tightened his grip a little and Erwin let his eyes close and the stew
went cold, but he was warm and that was enough.
***** Breach! *****
“Breach!” Hange yells, and all eyes turn to the water. I can see patches of
mist that I later learn are spouts, and I catch a glimpse of the huge animal
seemingly hanging in space for a moment before it lands in the water with a
crash I can hear over the sound of the engine and the wind in my ears. It is my
first time seeing whales in the wild, and it will not be my last.
Armin sank back in his chair and reread the paragraph. His words were
inadequate; he couldn't hope to capture what it really felt like, standing on
the deck of the Indomitableand seeing a pod of humpbacks for the first time.
But he had to try; it had taken him half a year of training and researching and
begging to be allowed to join the crew of the Indomitable for a couple of
weeks, and he had to try and bring that experience back and share it with the
world.
Armin was a writer. Sometimes he felt like a blogger, and sometimes he felt
like a reporter, and sometimes he felt like a nobody, but 'freelance writer'
was the title on his business card, and he'd had articles published in the
Huffington Post and other places. He was interested in the truth above all
else.
And he was interested in the Indomitable and her famous owner; Erwin Smith.
Everyone knew the basics; a privileged heir to a shipping empire, he spent the
months of the Antarctic summer pursuing the Japanese whaling fleet around the
Antarctic, and the other eight months pursuing them in the international court
system. The man behind the cause was hard to pin down; he took mild offence at
personal questions, and every interview he'd given revolved around whales and
the other environmental projects he was devoting what had to be the majority of
his fortune to.
He'd been called an irresponsible pirate, and an inspiration, and an obsessive.
Armin wanted to see for himself. He honestly hadn't expected to get as far as
he did; he wasn't representing a newspaper after all, but last August one of
Erwin's 'people,' a personable young woman named Petra, had got in touch and
explained the training Armin would have to go through before Erwin would feel
comfortable having him on board.
Late in the year Armin packed all his winter clothes and flew to Sydney,
sweltering in the summer heat. Now he had an exclusive lined up he was able to
sell his story for an advance heftier than any he had earned before. He'd been
in Sydney only two days before stepped on board the refuelling vessel that
would meet up with the Indomitable and transfer supplies, mail, and one very
nervous young writer.
He shakes my hand briefly, but I can tell his attention is elsewhere as he
supervises the loading of supplies. He's bigger than I expect, rugged up
against the weather like everyone else, a grey beanie pulled down over his ears
and his nose red from cold. I don't feel unwelcome but I'm definitely in the
way, and I do my best to stow my gear and take up as little space as possible
as the ship is resupplied and the crew receives their mail.
The crew was a colourful collection of nationalities and personalities, and
Armin had enjoyed verbally sketching every one of them. They were mostly
Americans and Australians, but the first mate was a short, broad-shouldered
Japanese man with a  permanent  scowl who frankly frightened Armin a little. He
looked prepared to draw a knife at any time and repel boarders- or perhaps
board another vessel himself. Armin nerved himself up to try and interview
Levi  a couple of times, but he was perpetually too busy to talk and Armin got
the hint.
Hange was always happy to talk. A bona fide marine biologist cheerfully self-
described as 'gone rogue' zie would talk Armin's ear off about the whales for
as long as he could stay awake to listen.
For those first few days, Erwin merely observed him.
I sense someone behind me, and when I take my eyes off the whales Smith hands
me a pair of binoculars. Mike cuts the engine and we drift. Eventually the pod
gets close enough that I can hear them breathe, and I nearly forget to do so.
By then I don't need the binoculars; we're among them. The crew is silent.
“They're so big,” I say, for lack of anything better, and when I glance at
Smith he's smiling, as proud as if he'd hand-raised them himself. It might not
be too far from the truth; when I press him for numbers he's evasive, but he
has to have saved, at least temporarily, hundreds of whales.
They stood like that for some time, until the whales had moved away from the
ship and they started moving again. Armin handed the binoculars back to Erwin
and thanked him.
“We've got the whaling fleet on radar,” Erwin said. “We'll be escorting this
pod for a couple of days.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” Armin asked.
“Oh yes.”
Trouble arrives hours later in the form of a whale catching vessel accompanied
by a security craft. Erwin ordered Levi to the helm, and the  Indomitable began
to try and block the vessels from catching up to the whales. The addition of
the security ship complicated matters, and Armin made his way from the helm to
the bow and back again, taking photos and keeping out of the way as the crew
worked.  Hange was filming the chase, and giving a running commentary into the
mike, while Armin took photos of hir doing so.
A loud explosion made him flinch and Levi swung the ship around.
“A harpoon has just been fired,” Hange said.
The security vessel had blocked them. Another explosion and Armin felt his
stomach lurch. By the time they'd swung around the whale chaser it was too
late. The sea was red, and the wallowing corpse was being hauled against the
side of the whaler with ropes. Armin knew that the factory ship would arrive to
process the whale next. He didn't want to watch. He did.
The days are long here, and it's still light by the time we move on. I should
be keeping up with where we're going next and why, but I haven't the heart to.
We failed. Every dead whale is a failure, and it's one that I can tell everyone
else is used to. We go on, the roster resumes. The day's catch is carefully
logged, and I lean over the railing, staring out at an empty ocean and feeling
tears freezing on my cheeks. I'm not used to this. I'd seen the footage before,
but it doesn't prepare you for the smell of blood on the air, and the noise of
the engines, and once again, the sheer size of the creatures.
“I know.” Smith is a my side again; I hadn't noticed him approach. He looks
tired and sad. He's been accused many times of chasing the whalers for his own
enjoyment, for the joy of righteous piracy, but right then his disappointment
is palpable. I have no doubt that this is not just a game for him. I try to say
something and he puts a hand on my back.
“We'll try again tomorrow,” he says. He stays. He stays until I've recovered my
equilibrium, and by the time we go below deck I've fallen a little in love with
him.
Armin stared at the blinking cursor at the end of the line and let out a slow
breath. He couldn't leave that in there, but he couldn't bring himself to erase
it just now either- it had taken enough courage just to type it, and now the
phrase burned on his screen. He decided to leave it and edit it later;  give
him courage to keep on writing.
That night he hadn't been the only one crying. Hange sat at the dinner table
reviewing the footage and weeping into the fried ham and greens. And then Erd
suggested that Armin's article will lead to a movie being made, and Hange
perked up slightly.
“Yeah, but they'll probably make my character a woman,” zie said sourly.
“I could be Hugh Jackman,” Mike said thoughtfully.
“Pff. If he's wearing stilts,” Erd replied, and the fantasy casting continued.
Erwin caught Armin's eye, and rose from the table. Armin followed, and Erwin
relieved  Nanaba of duty at the helm. The interior lights were off, but the
instruments and radar panels gave off enough glow to see by. Outside, all was
finally dark  for the few short hours of the Antarctic summer night .
“They have to do that, don't they?” Armin asked. “Laugh, I mean.”
“It can be grim work.”
“Do you ever wonder if you're making it worse? That by putting pressure on the
Japanese government they'll just dig their heels in?” he asked.
“All the time,” Erwin said. “But it's not just whales. The Antarctic and Arctic
will need protecting in the future as well. If fish stocks fall too far we may
start harvesting krill and completely collapse the ecosystem here. The fight
for natural resources-” he smiled faintly. “Let's just say this is a partially
pre-emptive 'occupy Antarctic' movement.”
“Can I quote that?” Armin asked.
“Everything is on the record,” Erwin said. “I stand by what I say.”
“Why whales?” Armin asked.
“I wanted to be a whaler, when I was young,” Erwin said. He smiled at Armin's
look of surprise. “Moby Dick made a big impression on me. The battle; they took
to the open ocean in row boats and flung harpoons with their bare hands, and
many died. But now we have radar and grenade-tipped harpoons and ships with
engines powerful enough to drag a whale through the water. It's a slaughter,
not a noble hunt. The challenge lies elsewhere, in preventing it.”
“So it is personal,” Armin said.
Erwin had been watching the radar, but he turned his pale, intense eyes on
Armin. “Why are you here?” he asked. “Is it personal?”
What do I say? Why am I here, at both expense and risk? What am I looking for
that's worth all this trouble; not just an advance, surely.
“I want the truth,” I say eventually. “Not about whaling specifically, but
about the ways people might change the world for the better. We need examples.
We need to learn from our mistakes.”
“You need to know if I'm an example or a mistake.” He's smiling. “And it's
personal,” Smith says. “Everything worthwhile is.”
Armin leaned back in his chair, remembering. He hadn't recorded that first
interview, and he indulged in the fantasy of Erwin crossing the room and
telling him he could see how personal this was and then leaning down and
closing his eyes and- no, no no. More coffee, Armin thought, getting out of his
chair. Then back to work.
It was the first of a few interviews conducted after dinner by the light of the
instrument panel. Armin learned that Erwin did a lot of his thinking up there,
and that he didn't mind if they were recorded. He didn't refuse to answer any
questions, and Armin knew the article he would write would be worth the advance
he'd been paid for and more.
They had better luck the next days. They co-ordinated with the Greenpeace
vessels in the area, and Levi flung the  Indomitable  between the harpoons and
the whales  with great skill .
Armin asked him what would happen if the ship was hit by one of the explosive
harpoons.
“We'd probably get a hole in the hull and start to sink,” Levi replied calmly.
“This is an icebreaker, not a battleship.”
The danger was real, but it didn't put anyone off.
It's two days before we rendezvous with the Lamprey,  two days before I'm due
to return to dry land. We both know this will be the last interview.
“Japan could decide to cease whaling tomorrow. What would you do if you won?” I
ask him.
Smith shrugs. “Take a holiday. Somewhere warmer, I think. And then I'd get back
to work; there are no shortage of battles to fight.”
“Do you think you're being inefficient? As you say, there are a lot of battles
to fight. Almost half the year you're here or preparing to be.”
“Stalin said 'Quantity has a quality all of it's own' and that applies to money
as well. I could spend my time turning my millions into billions and make the
argument that I could channel these resources into worthwhile causes, but money
on that scale becomes an end unto itself. I grew up surrounded by people who
had more money than they could ever spend; sometimes this was because their
imaginations didn't stretch further than the next sports car, and sometimes
this was just because they had so much. It's a weight on you; a responsibility.
And I don't believe money in my hands would be any better than money in yours.
How much debt do you have?”
“A lot,” I admit.
“And how does that affect your potential as a human being? Perhaps not so much
for you; you're here after all, exactly where you want to be, but so much human
life is wasted in the pursuit of enough money to live on. And so much more is
wasted in the pursuit of more money than is needed.” He shrugs. “Besides, this
is life-threatening work, and I could not ask others to do what I do not.”
I ask the question I've wanted to ask since I arrived. It's not on my list, but
on the tip of my tongue.
“Why did you invite me on board?”
“I've read your articles. While you're deciding if I'm an example or a mistake,
I've made my mind up about you already. We need people like you. Unafraid and
truthful and eloquent. It's not enough to provide camera-phone footage; it's
important of course, but what is also needed are people who can communicate
context, who understand that cameras lie just like people do.”
He crosses the room and speaks seriously to me.
“If you ever get into trouble for the things you write, I want you to contact
me and I will pay for your legal defence. If you're who I think you're going to
be, you're going to piss people off.”
I don't think I've felt this proud since graduation.
Armin deliberately turned off the recording, and took a deep breath.
“Off the record,” he said slowly, raising his eyes to meet Erwin's. “Are you
straight?”
Erwin stepped back, putting some distance between them. “That's not the
question you should be asking,” he said. “And the question you should be asking
isn't appropriate for you to ask right now.”
“Yeah.” Armin nodded. He knew he was right. He also knew that wasn't a 'yes.'
I'm leaving. Smith is the last to see me off and to my surprise he pulls me
into a hug. With the puffy waterproof coat he's wearing it's suffocating, but I
don't want to let go. I'm going to miss these people, and I feel like I've
become one of them. I owe them a lot, and with the whales still singing in the
Antarctic, we all owe them a lot.
Armin slumped back in his chair, emotionally drained. It was too sentimental
for a proper article, but he was glad the draft was done. He was going to save
this, along with the photographs and recordings, and when he closed his eyes he
felt Erwin's arms around him.
The finished article was published some time later, and Armin was woken up a
three AM by his phone ringing. A confused babble of voices was on the other end
and it took Armin a few moments to realise he was talking to the crew of the
Indomitable  via their satellite phone.
“Why didn't you use the picture of me with the loud-hailer?” Hange asked. “That
was a good one.”
“I didn't choose the pictures-” Armin pulled the phone away from his ear as
some loud thumping noises came though.
“Well done, mate,” Mike said. Armin gave up trying to make sense of the
conversation after that, he was just glad to hear from them all, and he laughed
and accepted their congratulations.
Then the phone went quiet as it was wrestled away from the crew and Erwin's
voice came through strong and clear.
“Well done. I'm glad you made the most of the opportunity.”
“Well, uh, actually, I think I missed something,” Armin said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, a question I didn't ask.” His heart was thumping. Courage, Armin, you've
stared down explosive harpoons; this is just a question. “Would you like to go
out with me sometime?”
“Hm.” He could hear the smile in Erwin's voice. “I'll be back in the US in two
months or so. It's a date.”
Armin didn't manage to get any more sleep that night;  he was too damn happy.
***** The End *****
Armin insisted on the hood.
“He was my commander, and he's still my,” he faltered. “My friend. He has a
great love for humanity, enough that he will walk to the gallows unaided if
that is what is asked of him. So please, let his final moments be in his own
head, with his own conscience, rather than with the howls of the mob he
sacrificed so much for.”
They were going to argue, but Historia, their new queen, who so many
underestimated, said she thought it was fair. As Her Majesty wishes.
Erwin Smith was hung at noon the next day, for traitorous crimes not quite too
numerous to mention. Armin had watched, his expression as guarded as all the
others; they were veterans who kept their own counsel.
The leaver was pulled, the trapdoor dropped, and the rope creaked. Armin
breathed a sigh of relief; he'd seen enough hangings by now to know a clean
kill when he saw one. The feet jiggled, but it was just nerves; his neck had
been snapped. Fast. Painless.
“Congratulations, you're a dead man.”
The lamp flickered on the table between them.
“Who swung in my place?” Erwin asked quietly. He'd grown a thick scruff of
beard, and his hair was hanging down over his eyes. Maybe he'd be hard for
others to recognise, but Armin knew his features so well, memorised them over
many late nights like this one as they plotted and planned by lantern-light.
Erwin hadn't asked to be saved; Armin knew if he had asked Erwin would have
refused. No more deaths on his orders.
“Someone who deserved it.”
“I don't believe that.”
“No one you know then. Is that better?”
Erwin sighed heavily, “Yes, it'll do. I'll take what I can get. You organised
for him to be missing an arm as well, I suppose.”
“It wouldn't have worked if I hadn't.” Armin met Erwin's gaze boldly; Erwin
had, after all, cultivated Armin's ruthless streak like a delicate flower. It
was too late to feel bad about it. It was too late to feel bad about a lot of
things; Erwin had taught Armin that, too.
“Any news of Levi?” Erwin asked.
Armin shook his head. “We haven't found him, dead or alive. If he is alive he'd
be sensible to stay hidden.”
“I shall choose to believe he lives on, then,” Erwin said. “The man's harder to
kill than a cockroach.” He smiled faintly.
“You have to go,” Armin said. “Before it starts getting light.”
“I know. Thank you, Armin.”
“Thank you, sir.” Armin stood and saluted, one last time. “For all that you
have done.”
“Freedom, hm?”
“You won't be alone,” Armin said. “Sasha's people have already left the walls
in search of new hunting grounds. Others will follow.”
“And when will you?” Erwin asked gently.
Armin bit his lip. “I'd go with you, but.”
“I know, duty calls.”
“The three of us are planning to leave next spring. The map I gave you- I've
marked the direction we're planning to go.”
“If I survive the winter, I'll look for you.”
Armin nodded. This was the best he could do, sending a one-armed old soldier
out into the wilderness with only what he could carry and hoping for the best.
It didn't seem adequate, but it was better than a length of hemp rope and the
mercy of the mob.
Erwin got to his feet and held out his hand. When Armin took it he pulled the
young man closer, and Armin let himself be pulled, wrapping his arms around him
in a hug made clumsy by the cloak around Erwin's shoulders and the pack on his
back. Erwin smelled of the cell they'd been holding him in.
“It's going to be cold,” Erwin murmured, his arm wrapped around Armin's
shoulders. “Stay safe, Armin.” As he drew back his hand cupped his cheek
briefly, and Armin tilted his head back. Surely, now- but Erwin didn't kiss
him. Smiled at him instead, like he still couldn't believe what he was seeing.
And then he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him and Armin buried his
face in his hands for a few moments before taking a deep breath and carrying
the lantern upstairs.
There was smoke in the forests. Probably Sasha's people, but Armin had
nevertheless drawn comfort from those ephemeral spirals all throughout winter.
Spring had burst upon the countryside after months of frost and the three of
them took their leave without fuss, on horses given to them by the Queen.
They took their time, gazing about and revelling in the freedom of not being
observed, letting the horses set their own pace. Mikasa had let her hair grow
long again, and it gleamed in the sun as she took the lead, even now still
watchful for danger. Eren was practically breathless with excitement, pulling
up beside Armin and asking if he'd ever seen that particular kind of flower
before.
Yes, yes he had, but he was happy to see Eren's eyes lighting up again, and
hear him laugh.
Mid afternoon, and Armin pulled up on the edge of the forest and fired a round
of green smoke into the air. The others didn't say anything, as they rested
their horses and waited.
He fired another. And again.
“It's all right,” Armin said eventually. “You go on ahead and find somewhere to
camp. I'll stay here a bit longer.” He threw on his cloak and waited, as the
shadows grew longer around him.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
