Chapter Text
If Rivaille was good at anything, it was anger. Once, it had been the quiet kind of anger. That kind of restraint had left with his death and rebirth into demonhood, though perhaps Levi held onto that trait? Rivaille’s anger was white hot and quick in coming, now. But blind rage, while immensely satisfying in the past, would not prove to be anything but damaging now. Eren, stupid as he was being lately, did not deserve Rivaille’s anger.
He deserved Rivaille’s help.
But anger was all Eren would get if Rivaille didn’t get some air, some space, some something to remove himself from the reality of it all.
Titans, again. They spoiled everything. Rivaille had tried to hate the titans of his previous life, but they had not known any better. His memory of death was horrific, but quick. Fear as the inevitability of death made itself known, the sudden dank and stinking darkness of a titan’s mouth, plunging into further gloom as the gaping maw snapped shut. One crunch of massive teeth, the grind and snap of bone, and several, awful seconds of the worst pain he’d ever known. Then nothing. It was over in the blink of an eye.
He’d been nothing more than a passing snack to a desperate creature that longed for freedom from its own, fleshy body. But shifters were hard to come by, and any human was a target if they weren’t fast enough. Rivaille had not been fast enough then. Quick enough to save his own skin, but not quite fast enough to save himself and Eren. And so, he’d just saved Eren. Surrendered himself to oblivion.
At least that’s what he’d thought then. But fate had other ideas, and a nasty sense of humour, for here they were…about to face titans again.
Devouring was just what titans did. It was their nature, but the titans of old had not been evil.
This time, the titan Eren wished to face was evil. A boiling mass of hatred for all lifeforms that weren’t itself, or its spawn. A thing of endless hunger and a terrible vision of the two worlds laid in ruins at its feet. This was a creature that Rivaille hated. More than hate, he feared this thing. Not some niggling worry, but a terror that resided in his very bones. Maybe deeper than that. If a titan of Hell consumed you, there was no escape, no rebirth, just endless suffering and the screams of billions of others trapped with you, screeching in your ears. Forever. Awake and alert and in agony, without end or relief as long as you were a part of that being. That suffering only ended if a titan was defeated, and it had happened so few times. Eren believed that they could do it…take down this titan. Rivaille was not so sure, and he’d always been a little pessimistic. He was not eager to be consumed. Condemned. He’d only recently gotten some sort of grasp on sanity and it would all be for nought if he was just going to get tossed into a new torment.
If he helped Eren, and they failed…
The wraith seethed, wishing not for the first time to be joined with his twin. Together, they had been more. Cowardice was overcome by duty. Courage was dragged up from beneath the depths of despair, in the face of awful odds. Levi was lucky. He must have almost all of their courage if this was the limit of Rivaille’s bravery. Give him any other scenario and he would succeed. He was stronger now, faster, more than he’d ever been in his time as a human. And yet…somehow, he was also so much less.
Titans had killed him in the previous lifetime, and Rivaille couldn’t shake the fear of a repeat incident. But amplified. Not just a few, awful seconds of suffering this time. An eternity of agony and failure.
The very meaning of Hell.
If Eren knew what was going on in Rivaille’s head, the mess of fear and doubt, he would probably understand. But they’d never really, honestly spoken about it, the fact that they both knew. More of a recent discovery on Rivaille’s part, though he should have just asked outright. Or maybe not. Things might have ended terribly differently if he had. The Rivaille of then hadn’t thought twice about outright eating any of his old comrades if they remembered, taking their suffering as his own. Sacrificing company and the chance at a shared loss. Horrific, maybe. No, definitely. But to spare them the existence he’d come to know, it had been the only way. And if Rivaille had asked, if he’d known that Eren was entirely aware of their previous existence, they’d never have gotten this far. Eren would never have been able to dream up his crazy scheme.
And maybe…the walls between the living and dying worlds would have fallen without a fight. Eren might be the only one of them crazy enough to even try to pull this off.
Maybe it was the burst of temper at Eren’s insane tactics, but Rivaille had a sudden, near-overwhelming urge to march back into Castle Jaeger and demand that they talk. About everything. Eren would be mad. No time, he’d say. There was never enough time, even if they should have eternity to drive each other crazy. Well…crazier. Eren had his own personal brand of shattered sanity, though if he was full of two lifetimes’ worth of memories then that wasn’t shocking. It was…obvious in some ways; some silent secret, shared only in glances. The ghosts in teal eyes and the impossible memories reflected in a silver gaze – a spark of recognition, connection. They should really talk about it.
But if they talked, Eren would somehow manage to talk Rivaille into the whole, insane plan and…
…and Rivaille didn’t think he’d be able to say no.
He needed to think. But Hell was not the place to do that.
Rivaille fixed his thoughts on the living world, seeking a certain mortal with a very particular demonic charm on his person. It was always an unpleasant search, at least physically. Easier with a physical part of him in the living world; Rivaille barely grimaced when he felt his temples begin to throb as an image came into focus in his mind’s eye. A familiar little upstart and, of course, the charm that Rivaille had left in their possession.
The claw still hung from a cord around Hunter’s neck. The boy had indeed followed Rivaille’s instructions and kept it close, just as they had agreed.
Now, the charm would finally serve its purpose.
Rivaille had a little trip to make in the realm of the living. Call it a vacation. Maybe even a mission. Regardless of the labels, it was a trip that he needed to make without alerting the attention of a certain mate of his. Eren was suspicious enough of Rivaille as things stood currently. More than that, Eren couldn’t afford the distraction. He’d set his heart on war and having his attention split more than it already was would spell Eren’s demise. Rivaille had failed to protect Eren from his own determination once before, the memory of another lifetime haunting Rivaille to this day. If Eren carried on with this reckless scheme, he’d be the one to die first this time.
Silver eyes closed tight, worry and anger and seething determination burning him up inside. Even in this life, it seemed like Eren would be the death of him.
But that would be okay…as long as it was never the other way around. That, Rivaille would not stand for. Not even if it killed him. Not even if what it got him was worse than being dead. But Eren wasn’t likely trust him to help, especially given Rivaille’s poor reaction to the news.
For now, Rivaille would make his own moves in secret, as poor and obviously suspicious an idea that would be. For that, he needed a little help of his own.
If Rivaille focused, he could make out the room in which Hunter stood. There was a long stretch of bench against one wall, two sinks, and a wall of cupboards. A kitchen, then. The boy must be home where Rivaille had last left him. Old Granny What’s-her-name’s place. Hunter stood, elbow deep in suds, scrubbing calmly away at dishes while more than one feline coiled happily about his ankles. It was a nice little scene, filled with the clink of crockery and quiet, happy purring of pestering cats. The boy seemed to have settled into his pseudo home nicely.
Unfortunately, Rivaille had to pop this serene little bubble of existence.
“Look alive, twerp.” Rivaille said quietly, his eyes closed to preserve the scene in his head. “I need a favour, and your dishes can wait.”
Hunter heard him loud and clear.
The boy jolted out of his relaxed slouch in an instant, his head whipping around but finding nothing out of place. Rivaille watched Hunter squint, recognition crossing his youthful features. He knew that voice, and there was only one person it could be. Hunter groaned.
“Rivaille?” He asked the empty kitchen, receiving several meows in response. Hunter flicked suds from his arms, wiping wet hands on his pants as he crouched to pat the crowding cats in an effort to hush them. When the meowing ceased, he tried again. “Hey, if it’s you don’t just leave me hanging. What’s going on? Is it ghostly pull time?”
Hunter had handled the sudden surprise well, Rivaille thought. He got straight to business.
“I need you to find a mirror,” the raven stated plainly, “the sooner the better.”
The brunet raised an eyebrow at thin air, rising out of his crouch despite the insistent nudging of whiskered faces against his legs.
“Okay? There’s one in the bathroom.” Hunter supplied, still searching the empty room with no small amount of confusion. “Will that do?”
“Any mirror, just hurry.” Rivaille prompted, the beginnings of a frown tugging at his brows. “I’m having a very bad day and I’m not in the mood for the headache this link is giving me.”
“Righto.” Hunter nodded quickly and hurried off.
The instant response soothed Rivaille’s irritation a little. At least he wasn’t going to deal with stubbornness on both ends of the Eren scale; Hunter was at least proving agreeable today.
Rivaille let his focus wane a little. He didn’t need a perfect vision of what was happening, just a secure link, and the throbbing in his head faded a little. It was only a brief mercy. Hunter’s voice soon cut through Rivaille’s short-lived relief. The boy was standing in a bathroom in front of a small, wall-mounted mirror when the wraith checked.
Hunter frowned at his own reflection, tapping the glass. “Hello? Testing? Demon hotline, do you read me?”
“Do you have the token I gave you?” Rivaille asked, knowing the answer was yes.
Hunter’s brows pulled together in concentration and he plucked the charm from beneath his shirt by the cord. “Yup.”
“Hold the claw in your hand, fingers closed is best, and place your other hand to the glass with your palm facing the mirror. Do not remove your hand from the glass until…well, you’ll know when.”
“That’s really not very reassuring.” The brunet rolled his eyes.
Hunter followed the instructions anyway, grasping the claw and placing a tentative hand to the silver glass of the mirror. There was the barest hint of a shock, gone before Hunter knew if he’d felt it or not. The hairs on his arm stood on end. Rivaille felt it the moment a secure connection was established – a physical part of Rivaille still existed within the living world. And a living mind, willing and uncorrupted, was standing by to invite him across. Eren would be furious if he ever found out. But Rivaille was currently furious with Eren. As far as he saw it, a little righteous anger from his mate would see them even. If the brunet discovered him at all.
Hunter jumped a little when Rivaille’s face swirled into being in the mirror, though for the moment it was just an image. The boy’s hand remained on the mirror. Good.
“Don’t panic.” Rivaille said, and his likeness on the silver glass vanished.
Hunter had little time to react, but as the room was filled with a brilliant light he thought briefly that Rivaille was often telling him not to panic. Usually right before the bastard did something panic-worthy.
And then the demon was there, bursting from the mirror’s surface in a rush of searing smoke. It stung Hunter’s hand, but not enough to have him pull away. Within seconds, there was a being assembling itself from the smoke and Hunter figured that was as good a sign as any to pull his hand back. Hunter inspected his hand, palm and fingers only a little reddened from the sudden heat. Not burned, though. He shook off the tingling feeling, flexing his fingers with a little grimace at the numbing heat. Deeming himself okay, Hunter turned to look at Rivaille.
The last wisps of smoke seemed to seep into Rivaille’s body as he stood there, cracking his neck to one side with a kind of seething relief. Nostrils flared in agitation, tension leaving him in a staccato of motion. Twitching, disjointed like he was forcing himself not to hate every last sensation in the world. Silver eyes snapped open, the pupils shrinking small in the harsh white of the bathroom’s overhead tube light. For a second, Hunter wondered if he might be about to become a human piñata. And then Rivaille yawned, and the predatory illusion was shattered. Left in its place was a tired man holding years of weariness, a plethora of unsolved problems that was a clear weight on the raven’s shoulders. Rivaille glanced Hunter’s way, finally. The demon had a sour expression twisting his face, but it looked more like discomfort than anger.
“Hey.” Hunter greeted, only a little wide-eyed. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing too drastic.” Rivaille gritted out, eyes closing as if in pain, and he lifted a hand to press against his temple. “Only my fated rushing to his death for the sake of noble causes. You know, the usual ‘saving the world’ crap.”
Then again, maybe there was a little anger mixed in there, too.
“Demon husband troubles?” Hunter guessed.
“That’s generally what one signs up for.” Rivaille commented, almost wry.
He couldn’t quite overcome his own frustration to be playful. Hunter could only wonder at what new worries had sprung up for Rivaille, for his partner, or their world. Clearly, it was just as complicated as ever.
“That sucks, man.” Hunter attempted to console.
Rivaille’s sharp gaze was on him, and clearly the demon didn’t appreciate the bid for support.
“I didn’t come here so that you could state the obvious.” The raven said, borderline snappish.
Hunter raised his eyebrows, though for once his short temper was nowhere to be seen. They were all tired, in their own way. Hunter had his own problems to worry about, and if Rivaille didn’t want his help then he wouldn’t bother wasting the effort.
“Fair enough.” Hunter said, gesturing to the bathroom door and the hallway beyond with a tilt of his head. “Well, go about your business, just be quiet about it. Mrs. Norman is only halfway through her afternoon nap and she didn’t sleep well last night.”
Hunter turned without another word, knowing all too well that their interaction was as good as done. Rivaille was no friend, after all. His very first thought had been to kill Hunter when they had met, after all, and only an afterthought had stopped him. A coincidence had allowed Hunter to live that day. Not kindness, not friendship. A coincidence then, and convenience now. Demons always had their reasons for playing nice, and Hunter knew he was but a useful pawn in a game far bigger than he was probably aware of.
Rivaille watched the boy head back for the kitchen. Soon enough the clinking of dishes bumping together in soapy water could be heard – Hunter delving right back into his chores. No questions, no demanded answers.
Something was wrong, especially if Hunter of all people wouldn’t bring it up outright.
It was none of Rivaille’s business. The wraith made to leave. He had a lot to do, and only a little time to do it in, but his feet wouldn’t carry him past the door.
Hunter’s tone had been clipped, and he’d left in a hurry. The standoffish behaviour wasn’t all that strange, except for the almost too-loud scrubbing, reminiscent of some sort of wordless tantrum.
Clearly Hunter wasn’t too impressed with the wraith’s manners. Unsurprising; Rivaille knew he was an awful guest.
With a silent sigh, Rivaille swivelled on the spot and headed for the kitchen. He’d prefer not to be hated by the only human in this world who would help him, and Hunter could easily decide not to let Rivaille through the next time. Unless Rivaille made some sort of effort. It was clear, even to Rivaille, that Hunter was troubled. That in itself wasn’t strange. The boy’s life was vastly different from the way it had been before, torn out by the roots and overturned, and the reality of that must have sunk in by now. He’d attempted to reach out, even with vague comfort, and being shut down had obviously offended the brunet.
Hunter did not jump when Rivaille appeared suddenly in the kitchen, though the brunet’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened briefly.
For a long moment, neither said anything. But Rivaille had little patience for evasive silence.
“Settling in, are you?” Rivaille asked, his eyes glued to the sloshing dishwater.
Hunter didn’t look at him, though he did answer.
“Well enough.” He said.
It was a start, Rivaille decided. They weren’t on entirely bad terms and none of the plates had started to fly just yet.
“Does it confuse the old girl to find all her dirty dishes cleaned?” The raven pressed. “Surely she’ll start to believe there are ghosts about.”
Hunter shrugged, setting another plate on the rack to dry. “If she notices, she’s good at pretending she doesn’t. Technically I live here too, now. I’m not just going to let the dishes pile up like a jerk, especially when my housemate is basically a hundred years old. Mrs Norman has never said anything about the extra food I leave in the fridge, or the suddenly mopped floors, or when there’s food left out for the cats. It’s the least I can do.”
“A teenager willingly doing chores.” Rivaille shook his head. “And I thought I’d seen it all.”
Hunter rolled his eyes, but his shoulders sagged a little. “It’s not so much of a chore, and it gives me something to do. Kind of reminds me of home.” Hunter sighed and his shoulders drooped further. “I miss home.”
Ah, Rivaille thought. The real problem revealed itself.
Hunter was homesick.
“We all leave home at some point.” The raven murmured, quiet as his mind drifted through the variety of places that he’d come to call home over the course of his existence.
Sometimes home wasn’t a place, and Rivaille found himself drawn back, always, to the same boyish face and those stubborn eyes. To Eren. Briefly Rivaille wondered which home Hunter was missing. The physical place, or perhaps the people that he’d been forced to leave behind?
“I was thinking…” Hunter said, his voice small but still enough to pull Rivaille back to the present, “maybe…I could go back?” Hunter did look to Rivaille then, the dishes momentarily forgotten and a sudden hope in green eyes. “Just for a little while? I mean I’ve got this weird…demon invisibility cloak or whatever, maybe I could just go and see how they’re doing-”
The words cut off when Hunter noticed Rivaille shaking his head.
“First of all, it’s not invisibility.” The raven said. “You can’t be seen because of an aura that makes people not want to look your way; in person, in a photo, even on a camera. Human minds are easy to trick. They’ll lie to themselves to keep a hold on normalcy, anything that tells them they’re safe. Secondly, the magic is simple; anyone who has been around enough unearthly influence would easily be able to overcome it.”
Hunter’s mouth turned down, the frown disheartened, but there was still a stubbornness in his eyes.
“But my parents haven’t had anything to do with demons, or magic, or anything like that.” He tried. “Doesn’t that mean they wouldn’t see me?”
Rivaille felt a tug of sympathy seeing the light of desperation beginning to swim in Hunter’s eyes. It was the people that Hunter missed. His friends, his family. Presences in his life that were now out of reach.
Rivaille sighed. “I can’t guarantee that your parents would be fooled by my spell, since they witnessed your lack of a reflection for more than a moment. They know it’s unnatural. It’s highly unlikely that you would be safe if you returned home.”
“Can you…cast a stronger spell?”
It was Rivaille’s turn to frown. “I could. But strong magic is easily traceable, and not by anything that you’d want to meet. The stronger the spell, the stronger the risk. You don’t want demons sneaking in your windows, especially not if you’re alone. I doubt you’d like any bodyguard I could assign to you, and that’s the only safe option for what you’re suggesting. You can’t go home, Hunter. As harsh as that reality is…it’s still reality.”
It was the bitter truth, but Rivaille didn’t regret saying it. Hunter would have easily convinced himself to go back without confirmation of the danger he could be in. Knowing the limitations of his protection would keep him safe.
But not happy.
Hunter glared Rivaille down for a brief moment, but ultimately his face crumpled in defeat.
“I should have known, I guess.” The boy said, glum. “Getting to go home would’ve been too good to be true. I just…it would be nice to see mom. To know if dad is still angry, or if he’s worried since I just disappeared. Everything is such a mess. Sometimes it’s fine, sometimes I’m alright with it. Sometimes I just really want my mom’s hugs.” Hunter let go of a massive sigh, seeming to accept his lot in life. “I guess it’s just been that kind of week.”
Rivaille could relate to that. Things were messed up alright, and they weren’t about to get any better.
“I’d hug you if I thought it would make you feel better.” Rivaille offered, about as comforting as he could get.
Predictably, Hunter snorted and scooted a little further away. “Yeah. No thanks. I mean, thanks for offering. But really, no thanks.”
The amusement, however fleeting, was worth being laughed at. Rivaille rolled his eyes, but it was far from derisive. Hunter did jump a little when Rivaille flickered into being on his other side, closer, and ruffled the boy’s hair before darting away to hover by the door.
“If we make it through the craziness that’s coming, then it’ll be time to think about home and other problems.” The raven said. “Until then, be patient. I do have to go.”
Hunter was still fixing his tousled hair when he looked up, the fleeting annoyance morphing into curiosity. “What craziness?”
“Oh just outright war.” Rivaille huffed, the words ending on a growl as his frustration resurfaced. “But you don’t need to worry about that…unless we lose. In any case, I have business to get to, you’ll be alright here?”
Hunter shrugged, looking bemused. “I guess so.”
At the very least, he wasn’t on the verge of tears anymore.
Rivaille gave a nod, pleased enough with the answer. “I can find my own way back to Hell, but I will need your help in making it here when I wish to return. Is that acceptable?”
The boy only offered another shrug. “You’re not sticking around for long, then?”
“It would be easier,” Rivaille said with a small sigh, “but ultimately the longer I’m gone, the more suspicion grows around my disappearances. I’ll be returning, but the visits must be short.”
“Should I ask what it is that you’re doing?”
A little smile curved Rivaille’s lips, though the expression held little real humour. “Oh, a little cleaning up. A little not-so-harmless fun.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “So, murder. Basically.”
“Call it what you will; as far as I’m concerned the crowds here could do with a little thinning out.” Rivaille commented, giving a sneer that was all teeth and contempt. “It’s business, this time. A strict necessity.”
Hunter scoffed, and this time he did ask. “And what kind of business does the mighty Rivaille indulge in?”
Rivaille’s eyes flashed for a moment, hot white, before they returned to silver. “The same one I’ve always been invested in. Becoming stronger.”
Levi glared at the broken cup in front of him, sitting in a pile of shards on the counter. He hadn’t meant to break it. Despite Levi’s best efforts, sometimes he simply forgot his own strength.
But a broken cup presented Levi with an interesting opportunity to test out another newfound ability. His magic.
Eren had explained demonic power as an overcomplicated thing, full of little tricks. But to wield it without having any prior experience, it was essentially a task of putting one’s imagination to good use. If you want something broken, you break it. If you want something fixed, you fix it.
If Levi could imagine something, chances were his magic could turn thoughts into reality. The more complicated the task, the more effort it took and the less likely it would be that a beginner would succeed.
So, start simple.
I want the cup to be fixed, Levi thought to himself.
He stared down the porcelain shards with single-minded scrutiny, waiting for something. Anything. Really, he was just feeling more and more like an idiot.
When nothing happened, the raven sighed and closed his eyes.
So far magic was proving to be a right pain in the ass.
Levi had succeeded in a few, little things. He’d withered a few stray dandelions in the yard out back, accidentally set fire to an ant, and managed to turn on the television from across the room. Then again, he had a remote control that could do exactly the same thing. Any impressive magic was much harder to achieve and Levi was having a hard time of it, though moving like lightning had come so easily when Eren’s little demon friend had come visiting. Maybe it was necessity based? If he really needed his strength, or speed, perhaps it would simply come to him? Perhaps magic could not be forced to cooperate?
There had been enough failed attempts for one day, at least.
With a huff, Levi had fallen onto the couch in front of the TV, which he had not attempted to turn off again. It had been a quiet form of company, just noise in the empty house. Something to make the place seem a little less lonesome, for it was too big of a place for just Levi by himself. He’d only bothered to buy it in the first place because Eren would have been with him.
That was but a lonely afterthought, now.
Levi had rearranged the furniture a hundred times by now, less bothered by it since he could carry even the heaviest objects without strain. But at last he’d exhausted the effort. Everything was in a good place, with no better options to explore.
It had been a couple of weeks since Eren had left, and Levi had heard precious little news from the brunet since then. Eren’s presence could be felt in the raven’s dreams, a careful monitoring, but Eren didn’t try to speak to him – through dreams, or mirrors, or otherwise. And so Levi had attempted to pull his mess of a life back into some semblance of normalcy. He went to work, just one day of actual classes each week. It seemed to be going well. The students were delighted, and Mike appeared more at ease than their first face to face reunion had gone. Going out, seeing people, talking to people…it made Levi feel more human than he had in so long, ironic since he was far from human now. They didn’t need to know. Other than Hanji, Mike, and probably Moblit by this point, no one was the wiser to Levi’s little secret. He hoped to keep it that way. When Levi was at home, he kept up his tutorial videos, going over the basics as many different ways as he could think of. But that still didn’t fill many hours in the day.
Things were spectacularly dull without his little troublemaker around.
And then, staring at the TV as the news flickered on, Levi felt surprise wash over his face at the stream of headlines.
A new surge of massacres, with a hauntingly familiar style. Levi sat up, his eyes narrowed at the TV screen, and his mind drifting towards a whole other troublemaker that he absolutely did not want to deal with. A newsperson onscreen read their solemn report of a plethora of deaths with no evidence of a killer other than bloodstains that led nowhere and spontaneous, freakish weather. An alleyway coated in red as though it had been freshly repainted, blood the only thing that remained of the victims.
Levi knew without a doubt that it could only be Rivaille.
He felt the fluff at the end of his tail stand on end, ridiculous and twitching errantly in his sudden agitation.
Rivaille was in the living world…and that should have been impossible.
Why was he there? How was he there?
Did Eren know? If he did, he would have said something…would have told Levi. Wouldn’t he?
The raven found himself on his feet, marching to the bathroom with purpose until he stood before the mirror there. The silver glass remained still, unmoving. Yet it held a damning evidence in its frame, confirming Levi’s suspicions that Rivaille was definitely not in Hell.
Levi had no reflection.
He hadn’t thought to wonder if that little trick would work when both counterparts were demons. Apparently that didn’t matter.
Odd, though, that Rivaille would slip up like this. Rivaille had to know that his presence would throw their reflections out of alignment, and yet he’d not bothered to conceal his presence. Levi didn’t believe that it was because he had simply forgotten.
Did Rivaille want Levi to know he was around?
“Oi, Rivaille,” Levi found himself saying aloud, rapping his knuckles against the surface of the mirror, “you menace, if you can hear me then just watch what you’re doing.”
Communication was one of the functions mirrors had, at least under a demon’s command. Levi wasn’t sure he was doing it right.
And then, movement. There was nothing to be seen when Levi looked, his sharp eyes straining and catching nothing out of place other than his own lack of reflection. But suddenly the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, a sharp tingle of awareness rocketing down his spine. Whether he could see it or not, something sure could see him. Levi knew the feeling of being watched and this was it, some unseen eyes on him.
“If you’re set on being creepy, fine.” Levi said. He didn’t care if Rivaille showed himself or not (a lie, he’d absolutely prefer not), just so long as he listened. “You’re being too obvious. Don’t screw up Eren’s plans with your stupid murder holiday.”
The glass seemed to shimmer, not quite rippling. From its glossy surface, there was an echo of laughter that came in Levi’s own voice, though he’d never heard himself sound so manic. No, this was undoubtedly the wraith.
The mirror’s surface stilled, and yet the feeling of being watched remained.
“Eren will ruin himself with no help from me. You keep to your business, Levi, and I’ll keep to mine.”
This time the voice formed words, though the dual-tone had Levi shuddering against its force. Something demanding his cooperation, and yet amused. Playful. Rivaille clearly liked making others squirm.
“Good to hear from you, little morsel. Now quiet down over there, I don’t have time to waste on the likes of you.”
Levi gritted his teeth, hoping that Eren’s concealing magic would hide the sharp edges from Rivaille’s prying eyes.
“Bastard.” Levi muttered.
“Don’t make me come over there.”
Levi thought it best to leave the mirrors alone after that.
And then, some hours after the sun had dipped low in the sky, that taunting voice returned to echo briefly in Levi’s head.
“Head’s up, snack pack. Not a word to Eren about our little chat, and I’ll forgive you this once for enjoying his company without me.”
Levi didn’t have the time to question any of that, for there was a flash of light and a commotion upstairs as something thumped into the wall. Oh Christ, he thought, before the irony of said thought followed. If Rivaille was here, he was fucked. Levi was halfway up the stairs already when he heard a muffled “ow”, the voice instantly recognisable thanks to his improved hearing, and the raven burst into the master bathroom with more force than was needed.
His eyes scanned wildly, finding the source of the noise in an instant.
The voice had been familiar, but it was not Rivaille.
Eren was still picking himself up from the floor, graceless in his arrival. A mess of awkward limbs and a tail that smacked against the floor as Eren righted himself, disoriented. Not a scrap of clothing on him. Eren looked up at Levi with an expression somewhere between sheepish and anxious.
“Levi.” Eren said, his voice so quiet.
Like he thought Levi might spook, or more likely kick him in the face. There was nothing else, no ‘I missed you’, no greeting other than Levi’s name on Eren’s lips, like the name was enough. It was enough. Levi didn’t want to hear anything that Eren had to stay this time, no answers or explanations. No doomsday warnings. If Eren could just be there, it would be enough.
“I thought you were gone.” Levi said, his voice hollow even though he had everything he needed to feel whole again in an awkward pile of limbs on the floor. “You made it sound like you would be.”
Eren stood finally, little pieces of ash and soot swirling to the floor. The pristine bathroom was spoiled, tiles smudged with ashen footprints as Eren fidgeted, looking less and less sure of himself with every passing second. Tail swishing, Eren winced as he realised the state he was in, what Levi must think. He was filthy, like a volcano had just barfed him up and spat him out of the mirror right into Levi’s bathroom. That was probably pretty close to the truth, but Levi didn’t ask. He didn’t really care. Eren was there, and Levi went to him. He pulled the soot-covered moron down into a hug, squeezing Eren tight one moment and scolding him the next.
“What kind of sick demonic rave were you at that got you this filthy? Huh?” Levi growled, yanking Eren down by the ear and inspecting the state of him, ignoring Eren’s startled yelp and stream of “ow, ow, ow,”. Levi huffed, shaking his head. “Don’t answer that, get your ass in the shower. Get in there, I said. I’ll be back.”
Eren stumbled as he was released, but his wide-eyed staring only got Levi to round on him with a stern scowl. That successfully chased Eren into the shower. Only once the water was running did Levi head out, returning with a dustpan to sweep up the mess of soot Eren had scattered everywhere.
Levi glared at the state of the bathroom so hard that when he finally blinked, the mess was gone. Now that was an odd way for his magic to work. Levi didn’t question it.
Eren looked delighted when the shower door opened and Levi stepped in. Unexpected, certainly, but not unwelcomed. Eren wasn’t quite brave enough to reach for him, though the eager twist of his tail was telling enough. But the raven wasn’t there to fool around. Levi cornered Eren, soap in hand, and had the brunet covered in soap suds and shampoo so fast that Eren just blinked at him, herded next under the spray. He closed his eyes against the rush of water, blinking once the rough, scrubbing hands had left his head. They treated the rest of him equally quickly. It was over and done with in the blink of an eye. No more suds. Eren wondered if he’d sparkle in the light now, he felt so thoroughly clean. He looked down into considering grey eyes, unsure of what to say, but the sudden press of Levi’s mouth silenced anything he might have attempted to get out. Under the heat of the water, Levi’s mouth was almost cool. The kiss didn’t last long. Levi shut off the water, all but hauling Eren out of the shower, and Eren managed a breathless laugh as he was pressed up against the bathroom sink. Still dripping, though the water slowly began to steam away.
“Well your water bills must be fantastic.” He said, catching the roll of Levi’s eyes.
Levi shut him up well enough. Nothing could get Eren to stop talking quite so well as a kiss, and Eren all but melted under the sudden barrage of unexpected affection. He’d needed to come to the living world, and naturally he entered through here. Home. Eren wasn’t about to sneak around in the living world avoiding Levi, so he’d come to confront him about his purpose here. Instead, Levi had done the confronting. And now the raven was inviting Eren’s tongue into his mouth, a hand sneaking around his back to grab at his tail, and Eren was led like a giddy little puppy out of the master bathroom and towards what would have been their bed, had Eren not needed to leave so suddenly before.
It looked like it was going to become their bed now, though, with the way Levi let himself fall back onto the mattress, Eren tumbling after him. Softness, security, Levi. It was just about everything Eren needed to feel at home. But as Levi’s arms snaked around his shoulders, pulling him down to rediscover every last detail of his mouth, Eren felt a stab of discomfort in his chest. Levi wouldn’t be so forgiving of him if Eren confessed his purpose here.
He pulled away, immediately hating himself. Levi lay beneath him, expectant with the tilt of his head, waiting for answers rather than demanding them. If Eren chose to say nothing, Levi wouldn’t pry.
But secrets hadn’t done them any good before.
“I’m not staying. I can’t stay.” Eren forced himself to say it, feeling both lighter for having told the truth and hollow in the face of what would likely become anger. Rejection.
Levi only hummed, a quiet acknowledgement, before he was tugging Eren back down.
“Wha-” Eren paused, pulled into a brief but deep kiss, and he had to take a moment to come back to himself when Levi let him lean away, “…aren’t you…angry?”
“You said you were leaving before.” Levi said. “It’s not a shock to hear it again.”
“Then…you’re not mad?” Eren watched Levi shake his head, teal eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “Are you sure? This is normally the part where you get mad, and tell me I’m an idiot.”
Levi closed his eyes, and there was that budding frustration. But Levi let out a breath, looking up at Eren until he could answer without getting snappish. He sighed.
“I’m not mad.” Levi said it aloud so that Eren would believe him, hands wandering idly to cup Eren’s face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones, just under the eyes. So gentle, claws gone. “I wish you would stay.” Levi admitted, looking tired. “I wish you’d stop having a hundred world-ending problems pop up every other minute. But that’s how it’s gotta be, and I love you, and I’m not mad.” He paused, staring up at Eren with earnest eyes in the hopes that the message would get through that thick skull of Eren’s already. “Now will you kiss me? Please?”
Eren’s mouth parted in surprise, his brows pulling together. “Don’t you want to know why I can’t stay? What I’m doing here?” He asked, thoroughly thrown by Levi’s acceptance.
“I assume it involves a lot of bullshit and some murder. Or, alternatively, a lot of murder and some bullshit?” Levi arched a brow. “Am I wrong?”
Eren blinked at him. “I mean…there is…a little murder involved.”
Levi’s brow rose further. “Oh, just a little murder?”
Eren huffed, his nose wrinkling in irritation as Levi wheedled past his vagueness . “A lot of murder.” He admitted. “But to be fair, it’ll be the murder of a whole lot of scummy people so…so that makes it less horrible, right? Yes? Levi?”
Levi only sighed, long and weary. “You know this is why I don’t ask anymore, right? If you wanted to know the reason, this right here is the reason.”
There was silence. They stared each other down a while, Eren confused, and Levi quietly amused at the frowning brunet above him.
“Okay?” Eren said finally, confused.
“Yes, it is okay.” Levi’s hands clasped behind Eren’s neck. “Now shut the hell up, get down here, and kiss me. You can murder scumbags and save the world tomorrow for all I care.”
Eren watched Levi a while longer, not quite trusting that everything could be alright. But Levi had no questions for him, no barbs to throw or comments to make, and Eren’s eyes grew a little wide as he realised there was no joke. No lie.
A little sound of disbelief left Eren’s mouth as he descended upon Levi like a man starved, welcomed against the pale body beneath him. Unwinding from whatever magic Eren kept over the raven, little changes began to appear. Not just to Eren’s clever eyes, but to the room. To the world. Magic melted away. Eren released Levi’s form slowly; there was heat in the change but no fire, for Levi would not likely forgive a burned down home. Soon Levi’s skin swam with the shadows of tattoos that seemed alive, a creeping fog beneath the skin. His tail emerged from seemingly nowhere. It had all been there, something Levi was aware of even when it was concealed. But being released, allowed free, was so good. Levi felt as though there was some weight lifted from him at being free in a more natural form, or at least…natural if one’s nature was of Hell.
Levi’s tail seemed set on twisting itself about Eren’s. It was a good thing they didn’t have to worry about undressing because Levi didn’t think he’d be letting go of Eren for quite some time.
Levi slid his mouth down Eren’s neck, out along his shoulder. He paused to suck over the skin where Eren’s mating marks were, uncaring of which belonged to him and which were Rivaille’s. All of them made Eren shake above him, stirring a deep growl in the brunet’s throat. Eren rolled his hips down and it was hot where their skin met, but Levi didn’t let up. His tongue curled over one mark in particular, right at the corner of Eren’s neck and shoulder, feeling Eren become more desperate against him.
They needed to move. Eren was fit to burst, his cock thick and throbbing against Levi’s thighs, and Levi tipped his head back as the thought of lube crossed his mind. Eren somehow managed to disentangle himself, if only for a moment, darting about the house as if reading Levi’s mind. He returned with what little was left in Levi’s possession, scrambling for the raven only to have the bottle in his hands confiscated.
Eren looked robbed of a great privilege, but Levi only scoffed at him.
So eager, there was no trusting Eren to be thorough. Levi made quick work of the task while Eren fretted back and forth, so impatient Levi was surprised he didn’t start rutting into the mattress.
Levi was all but flattened the minute he called Eren over, smothered in an enthusiastic kiss. If Levi didn’t know better, he’d suspect Eren was trying to eat him with the overzealous way he threw himself into kissing Levi half-senseless. He’d promised to do so once, a long time ago. Eren faltered against him briefly when Levi snaked a hand between them to slick the eager length trapped there. The contact made him sigh. An instant later, Levi had a leg thrown over Eren’s hips to pull him down, and Eren spared a second to align them properly. Levi stretched up to bite at Eren’s marks of claim while the brunet pushed in and it was a miracle that Eren didn’t spill himself right then and there. His hips snapped forward in surprise, a moan ripped from his throat. Levi was glad for the durability that his demonic nature granted him, wincing only briefly at the sudden breach. But then Eren’s mouth was on him again, so artless and vulnerable and wanting. There were hands in Levi’s hair, stroking his face, promising him the world if they survived, this world or the other or both as one, if Levi wished it. Levi didn’t care all that much for infinite power or ruling over worlds. All he cared about was this home and this moron currently clinging to him, his sounds of pleasure Levi’s for the taking and he gladly swallowed them down like precious secrets.
Eren’s pace was faltering and it was too soon, but Levi didn’t mind as he bit down again over another of Eren’s mating marks. This time Eren couldn’t take it. His hips jolted forward, grip tightening as Eren held on for dear life and rode out his pleasure. Levi hummed, feeling that connection between them buzz with satisfaction. Their bond sated. Though Levi hadn’t reached his own peak and he laughed quietly at Eren’s sheepish mumbles of apology, the words slurred and muffled between kisses the brunet couldn’t seem to stop giving.
The mess, Levi did not look forward to. He complained about it, but Eren only huffed amusement at him.
Before Levi knew it, he was empty and Eren had the raven’s legs hoisted in the air, his tongue delving quickly inside the newly exposed hole. Freshly seeded, but Eren didn’t seem to mind. The brunet slung Levi’s legs over his shoulders, humming in amusement at the breathless look on Levi’s face. Surprised, but not displeased.
A finger delved past Levi’s tensing rim, another following soon after. They fit in well enough alongside the long and coiling tongue that roamed about, taking care of the mess Levi claimed to be worried about getting on the sheets. Eren’s tongue remained deep within him long after said mess was gone, and Eren hooked his fingers, questing for that spot that would steal Levi’s breath away. He found it, watching Levi’s eyes slide shut. With his free hand, Eren found Levi’s cock. It jumped against his fingers, throbbing in his grip, and a few, blissful minutes later Levi let go of a deep groan as he painted Eren’s fingers in white. Toes curled, legs refusing to let up their grip around Eren’s shoulders, all Levi could do was breathe.
The pleasure faded, leaving warmth in its wake.
Eren eased his fingers free of Levi first, next his tongue. He pressed fond kisses to pale thighs, feeling the skin burn under his mouth, grey eyes on Eren as he murmured further apologies. Levi sighed, a peaceful sound, while Eren worked a careful path up the raven’s body. His mouth followed a trail of liquid pearl, not leaving a single drop behind lest Levi refuse to cuddle with him.
Despite his overeager performance, Eren found himself dragged up into Levi’s embrace. Held tight, much tighter than Levi had been able to as a human, Eren felt his chest swell with happiness so strong he almost felt sad.
As if sensing the feeling, Levi squeezed him tighter still.
“Do you need to leave right away?” Levi asked, his mind already wandering to Eren’s plans that would likely draw him away again.
Eren’s mouth turned down a little and he nestled resolutely closer.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He said, the most that he could promise.
Levi gave a little hum. “That won’t be long.” He admitted, the words quickly followed by a yawn.
“But I’ll return, if I can, between…errands.”
“Between murder sprees.” Levi corrected with a snort, his words already heavy with lethargy.
Eren didn’t try to argue with him. He pulled the raven into his arms, heaving them both up the mattress to slide Levi down between the sheets, rather than letting them fall asleep above the covers. It wasn’t any safer there, sheets were hardly armour. But the scent of Levi was strongest under the blankets and it made Eren dizzy with contentment. Eren joined Levi there before the raven could worry he might flee, pulling Levi close. If Eren had his way, he’d never leave again. But to do that…
“I need to be stronger.” Eren confided to a sleepy Levi, tucking the raven’s head beneath his chin. “It’s not going to be pretty getting that strength, and I don’t have much time to be ready. As long as I’m here, I’ll try to come and see you if I can.”
“Mm.” Levi hummed, all but dreaming at this point.
Eren worried quietly to himself in the shadows of their room, wishing that Levi would stay awake a while longer. But soon enough, the raven was sleeping. He breathed still, a human habit that would be difficult to let go of in a hurry, his scent calm. Eren held onto Levi for a few minutes longer, letting the time drag by and the bed grow warm around them. But when the minutes stretched into almost an hour, Eren knew he had to go. He took a few, careful moments reactivating Levi’s concealment spells, murmuring near-silent words into the quiet of the room. It would be a stifling existence for Levi, his true form suppressed to everyone. But it would keep him safe.
A kiss was pressed to Levi’s forehead, barely more than a dab lest the raven wake.
Like a thief in the dark, Eren darted across the room to the windows, sneaking out onto the balcony. He made sure that the windows were closed before turning to face the night, intending to be far from this cosy little neighbourhood before letting his claws run red.
He had a lot of work to do.