Chapter Text
Down to his last can of beans, his canteen half empty. It’s been a while since he’s come across a water source. Every store and home he searches is picked clean. He hasn’t hunted since he was a child—back when his father was still living. An in-depth book on hunting and setting traps is near the top of his priorities now, as he trudges his way through city after city, some small, some far too big. He believes he’s gone too deep now, strayed too far from any place once populated by humans. He’s mostly checking gas stations now, the occasional cabin, gun store, even the ramshackle shops that advertise boiled peanuts. But they’re all void of a single peanut. Seems they’re hot this time of year.
Desperation licks at his heels like the outreaching flames of hell, the scraping grip of the devil just waiting for him to drop, to yank him into the depths once his spirit has given up. Not yet. Not yet.
The sun is unforgiving the day that he’s run out of water, hungry since two days ago. He’s stumbling along at this point, as listless and heavy-footed as the dead that follow him in the shadows of his mind. The promise of death is close yet somehow less frightening. Death… Death… The release of existence, of suffering. And in existence, what does he find? Hunger. Exhaustion. Lonesomeness. Chased by his loved ones in the back of his head, those hands gripping at his ankles, his wrists, his clothing. Tighter and tighter those lifeless fingers become, more insistent, more stubborn. They want him to go, too. They want him to join.
At the end of the day, all things go to sleep, all things cease. The sun is leaving him. Its descent bears angry oranges and reds, blinding him as he shambles along the road which weaves through the endless trees. Trees, trees, brush, flowers. He comes across a creek. He drops to his knees and drinks until his stomach is too full to consume further. Ten minutes on his back, and then he rises. He continues on. His spirit isn’t ready to go. He isn’t willing to let it go.
An hour passes of walking in darkness, using his nearly-empty oil lantern as guidance, kept masked under one of his shirts to prevent attention. Just enough to see his feet, the road. It’s there that he trips a wire, and a row of empty cans ring his presence. A cacophony of sound that pierces the unnerving silence of the forest area—it makes him jump.
A moment of silence, and then suddenly, lights flash on. Blinding him. He shields his face with his arm, grimacing as voices yell.
“Are you armed?!”
“Who are you?!”
“Are you alone?!”
Wearily, Erwin lowers his arm and squints through the flood lights. He hadn’t even noticed the high wall. The powerful gate, the guard posts high above. About seven meters—twenty feet—from the wall, Erwin realizes his surroundings are outfitted heavily in noise traps. They’re strung between cars, between trees. Ignorantly, he walked into it. Beyond the blinding illumination, Erwin barely sees the shapes of men, of guns pointed at him. He holds up his hands in surrender, the handle of the lantern hooked on a thumb.
“Answer the fucking questions!” one voice screams at him.
“I’m...” says Erwin, voice hoarse, unused. “I have a pistol with no bullets. If you’ll let me, I’ll remove it from my belt and throw it towards the wall.”
He can’t see well past the lights. He just closes his eyes, tired, exhausted.
“Do it!” the voice snaps. Erwin slowly lowers his hand, calm, and slips the empty pistol from his belt. As he promised, he tosses it in the direction of the beams of light, the armed people. It clatters noisily.
“Are you alone?” another voice demands, deeper than the other. Erwin nods.
“I am. Do you have any food?”
“Why are you here?” the same voice ignores his question to provide their own.
“Food,” answers Erwin. “I’m looking for food.”
“How did you find us?”
“Walked.”
“...Are you with a group?”
“I believe I said I’m alone.”
He hears those voices mutter together, quick, hissing discussion.
“I’ll do whatever you require of me,” Erwin begins, “to prove you can trust me. I can work. I-I just can’t travel alone anymore.”
A moment of silence. This time, a woman’s voice.
“What do you have on you? Anythin’ of value? We can’t just let you in because you asked. That’s how it works now. Tradin’.”
Erwin cracks his eyes open. The light is still blinding but he tries to see. High up on the wall, four figures stand. One is noticeably shorter than the others, but they’re all shadows, vague shapes beyond the blast of lights.
“Just my gun,” Erwin says weakly, hoping so strongly they’ll accept him, so desperate at the thought of safety that his heart is racing. “I… I have nothing.”
A long, heavy quietness passes and Erwin feels his chances dwindling. Will they shoot him here and now, deeming him a waste of time, effort? The voices begin talking again, soft, hushed back and forths that Erwin cannot distinguish. They become harsher with anger, impatience. He catches the word ‘food’, his senses latching onto it like the word itself would fill his belly. Then the deep voice speaks again. Beyond the floodlights, Erwin sees the shorter shadow lowering its gun.
“You don’t have nothing,” it says, that tone of voice low and dangerous. “People always have something. And I know what you can offer.”
The others are silent. Erwin nervously flicks his tongue between his lips. His arms are getting tired, keeping his hands raised. Confusion settles over him, but his intelligent mind struggles when hunger is this overwhelming.
“I can work. I can provide, I can—I can d—”
“Shut up,” the deep, smooth voice interjects, cutting him off calmly, confidently. “We’ll search you first, then let you in. We have food.”
A pause, an exclamation of irritation from another voice. A feminine voice.
“What the hell, Levi? He said he doesn’t have anythin’!”
“I know his value. Suck it up, and let him in. If you have something to say to me, you can say it from where he’s standing.”
Silence. The shorter shadow—Levi, Erwin thinks—turns and leaves, stepping down from the guard post, disappearing behind the towering wall. The other three guards keep their rifles trained on him. The gate begins to part, a new opportunity, a new chance at life opening its doors to him in a great scrape of metal against pavement, the clunking of a functioning pulley system breaking the cold quietness of the night.
He waits for permission before he makes a single step. Guns are kept fixed on him.
It’s a compound. An old lumber mill, it seems. Trailers are scattered throughout the dimly lit area. There’s a center fire pit, a spit, multiple fire grates, pots. Stacks of lumber, of logs. Erwin quickly scans and counts about two dozen people before he’s manhandled by the guards; he’s kicked to his knees, and pat down by two sets of hands. He goes down heavily, nearly falls onto his side from his lack of strength. He rights himself purely based on pride. His bag is yanked from his shoulders, searched. He doesn’t argue. They toss his shit out of the bag—camping materials, his empty canteen, various things that won’t mean anything if he couldn’t get some food.
Heavily, he lifts his head to find two rifles pointed at him, the guards stepping back. They’d taken his knife. There’s six more men and women stationed around the gate, all armed, all watching him. The gate begins closing behind him with a grind of metal, and settles into place with a resounding clang. The floodlights are flicked off. The glow of the campfire and numerous lit torches takes over. A gentler illumination on Erwin’s eyes.
A shorter man is stepping past the shoulders of the other guards. Through the dim, flickering light, Erwin immediately takes notice that his hair is cleanly cut, like it was trimmed the day before. He even has an undercut, the underside closely cropped. They’re that settled here, that comfortable, to take the time to cut hair? Erwin had given up on his beard, and his own undercut has grown out, his longer hair on top now pulled back into a short, unruly ponytail. It’s been months since he last bothered, since it last was a priority. Seeing the neat and tidy state of this intimidating man who stares at him with blades in his eyes gives Erwin hope.
The stoic expression on his face teeters closer to disdain than indifference. He stands before the kneeling Erwin with a pistol in one hand, and—an apple in the other. Erwin stares at the apple, its red skin gleaming under the dancing light of the flames.
“Which one will it be?” this man asks him. The same deep voice. He stares down at Erwin with a blackness in his eyes, an emotion Erwin can’t quite name. He’s too hungry to think properly. To scrutinize, to figure out what they want from him.
“You have three options here. Leave if you can’t meet my conditions, try to negotiate—which won’t work—or, you can agree and eat this apple right here and now. Then we’ll take you in to feed you some more, give you a shower, and a shave.”
Erwin warily glances at the various guns pointed at him. There’s a red-headed woman next to the short man, glaring at Erwin, and to her side is the tall brute of a man that searched him, his bangs obscuring his eyes, a mustache perched on his upper lip.
“What are your conditions?” Erwin asks with a level voice, training his anxious, hungry gaze on the man before him. The stony expression on the other man’s face does not change. He steps closer to Erwin, tucking his gun into his belt. He leans in close enough that the red-headed woman takes a step closer, readjusts her grip on her gun pointed right at Erwin’s head. Erwin stares up into the enigmatic silver of his eyes. A very faint smirk twitches at the corner of the man’s lips. He’s so close, his trimmed bangs are nearly touching Erwin’s forehead.
“Sex,” the man answers calmly. His voice is low, a smooth threat between them, traveling in an uneasy shudder down Erwin’s back. His eyes are boring into Erwin’s, showing a hunger unlike his. “After you eat, after you shower, after you shave, all you have to give me is a night in bed. And then you can stay.”
The crackling of the lit torches and the campfire prevails while silence lingers. Erwin stares unwaveringly into the penetrating gaze of his dubious savior. While this is a price Erwin didn’t anticipate coming from this man, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him. Those in advantageous positions always want something. Whether it’s food, money, guns, flesh, there’s something they want. There would be worse things to ask of him, he supposes. Trading his body for safety and food is a first for him, personally.
“It depends what you had in mind,” says Erwin quietly. “I’m not much into certain things, honestly.”
The other man straightens up, laughs under his breath. The faintest grin that pulls at his lips is… handsome. It softens his eyes slightly, shedding that predatory stare. But he still looks very smug. Erwin finds this man quite deplorable—demanding a trade such as this, putting him in this position—but he cannot deny that he is attractive, objectively. The man tosses the apple hand to hand, leveling him with a cold stare beyond his black fringe.
“What’s your name, Blondie?”
“Erwin. And I take it you’re Levi?”
He pauses, and then looks at the red-headed girl. She has the decency to look guilty. He sighs, looks at Erwin, nods.
“Yeah. So, what’s it gonna be?”
He holds up the apple between his thumb and forefinger, displaying it. Erwin’s empty, clenching stomach is speaking louder than the coherent, right side of his mind. He needs food so badly, or else he will die. He knows he won’t last much longer if they pushed him back out those gates. Hell, they might even just shoot him in the head—he knows where they reside. They don’t know what he’s capable of.
Erwin flicks his tongue between his lips, warily glances among the group of armed survivors. He meets Levi’s hard gaze again and murmurs, “Alright. Fine.”
Levi tosses him the apple. Snatching it, Erwin curls in over himself while shoving the fruit into his mouth. He devours it, dripping juices all over himself and into his beard, uncaring of how desperate he appears—because he is, he is desperate, and he needs to survive.
Soon he’s led by Levi and the big, mustached man to one of the trailers. The tall one has him by the arm, an iron grip that he doesn’t bother to fight. He knows when to pick his fights, and now isn’t the time. He needs a night’s rest and food before he makes any moves.
“Mike, take a walk a second, but don’t go far,” Levi instructs, glancing up at the large fellow. “I got him.”
Mike, it seems, grunts at Levi and lets Erwin go. He leaves them at the door of the trailer. Erwin stands there, shaking, his body overwhelmed by the rush of sugar from the apple. Levi stares at him for a moment, arms crossed.
“Don’t try anything. I won’t hesitate to break your fucking arms if you try to get the jump on me, or your legs, if you try to run. Got it?”
Indifferent, Erwin nods. He blearily blinks at him. The taste of food had unleashed his overwhelming hunger, and he can barely focus. He just wants to eat. Levi is watching him quietly, face unreadable. Then he reaches out to grab the handle of the trailer door, snaps it open. He gestures for Erwin to enter with a nod. Erwin turns to the trailer and steps in, uncaring what lays within. He just wants food. Looking around, he takes notice of the lit lantern on the lone surface against the far wall. The small crank windows—too small for him to fit through. The cot made up with a pillow and blankets. A stack of books rest on the table.
“Your momentary lodging while we figure out if you can be trusted, or if we have to kill you,” Levi’s smooth voice surrounds him, regaining his attention. “If you try to escape, we’ll find out, or find you. Don’t fuck around, and you’ll fit in fine here.”
“I thought that’s precisely what you wanted of me,” Erwin says, turning to look at him. Levi stands at the entrance, arms crossed, eyes far from amused. He sneers at Erwin.
“Well, aren’t you funny? Sit down. I’ll bring you your dinner, then we’ll talk.”
Nodding dimly, Erwin drops onto the cot, letting his bag and unlit lantern rest on the floor. Levi leaves the trailer, shutting and locking the door behind him. Lowering fully onto his back, Erwin sinks into the comfort of the poorly padded cot, closes his eyes. He’s so exhausted.
What exactly does Levi expect of him? Why, of all things, would that man want sex from him? Slim pickings around here, or what? That is Levi’s greatest concern at this moment in time: sex. Meanwhile, Erwin has seen so much death in the city. So much suffering. It’s astonishing to him.
He falls asleep soon after resting his head down in a relatively safe location.
He’s jolted awake when his cot is kicked. Flying up into a seated position, he blinks widely to find Levi standing over him. He has a plate in one hand, the other wielding a cup.
“Had a good dream?” he asks sarcastically, though not unkindly. He holds out the plate and cup. Erwin tiredly reaches up to take both. There’s a sandwich on the plate, alongside what seems to be a squash of some kind, sliced carrot. They’ve been sautéed. His mouth floods with saliva. He glances up at Levi, amazed. The other man turns away, walks across the trailer to drop into the folding chair by the table.
“They happened to be frying some squash or whatever out there. Stole some of it for you,” announces Levi as he throws one leg over the other, draping his arm along the back rest. “Otherwise you would’ve gotten just some dry ass sandwich. I’m a gentleman, I know. It’s a part of my wooing process.”
“Squash… A natural aphrodisiac, so I’ve heard,” Erwin mumbles wryly. Levi snorts. He has no clue why he’s joking about this shitty situation. Maybe it’s just easier to crack jokes to cope with whatever Levi has planned. Erwin doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s hungry. He grabs the sandwich and crams it into his mouth.
Levi just sits there in silence, gazing out the window as Erwin eats. Occasionally casting glances towards the seated man, Erwin takes notice of how he’d removed the black jacket he was wearing earlier, exposing the form fitting black cotton shirt he wore underneath, joined by a shoulder harness. There’s another gun in an underarm holster. His arms are thick with muscle, though not obscenely. He has a broad chest, shoulders tight with strength. Erwin cocks a brow. Must be how he passes the time. Working out.
“You into men at all?” Levi asks him out of the blue. Erwin has to swallow that mouthful down very thickly. He clears his throat, lowers the plate to balance it on his lap. Levi is watching him through the soft light of the lantern. Erwin can’t recall the last time he’d been asked that so boldly.
“Yes,” he mumbles. He has a feeling it wouldn’t have mattered if he lied and said no. Levi probably would’ve said ‘sucks, then’ and still went along with whatever he has planned. Based on superficial first impressions, anyways. He doesn’t know anything about this man except that he’s demanding sex for safety and food.
“Hm,” provides Levi, and nothing else. He goes back to staring out the window. Erwin notices the obvious lack of utensils. He quietly picks up the sliced squash and carrot, places them in his mouth. He appreciates the taste of the sautéed vegetables, amazed that they’ve been seasoned with salt.
“How… how did this place get to this point?” Erwin finds himself asking, unable to restrain his curiosity. The state of things out there, in the cities… It’s so chaotic, the idea of a group of people coming together and creating such a well-organized and established compound seems impossible. Levi shrugs.
“People are stubborn to survive. Some are willing to do anything. To sacrifice anything.”
Erwin stares down at his empty plate, at the last few crumbs from the bread. An elusive response. Everyone knows that. Erwin doesn’t push it. He drinks from the cup. It’s water. He downs its entire contents before realizing he probably shouldn’t have done that. Levi could’ve drugged it. Erwin stares down into the empty cup and wonders if he’d even have the means for that. During a disaster like this, surely Levi’s priority wouldn’t be pocketing his Rohypnol?
Looking up, Erwin sees the other man dragging his folding chair forward, positioning it in front of Erwin, though not in his personal space. Levi leans forward, bracing his forearms against his knees, hands linking. He stares into Erwin’s eyes. Erwin places the cup and plate aside, folds his arms loosely. Levi taps his fingertips together, as if contemplating, searching Erwin’s stoic face.
“So, what exactly do you want from us? Just a place to live? Something to eat? Do you want to stay long-term? Short-term?”
“Long-term,” Erwin answers, voice low, eyes downcast to Levi’s booted feet. “I need someplace to stay. I can’t be out there any longer.”
“…How long were you alone? Traveling.”
“Too long. It’s still… it’s still rough in the city. It’s been difficult finding food because of that. I-I’ve been meaning to learn how to hunt.”
“We have a hunting team,” says Levi, earning a glance of tired blue eyes. “They can teach you. Have you tag along whenever you’re rested up and ready to go.”
Erwin blinks. Another spark of hope tickles under his sternum. He searches Levi’s expressionless face, disbelieving.
“You… would really have me? Why not just put a bullet in my head, wouldn’t that be easier on all of you? I’m a risk. An extra mouth to feed.”
“You are,” Levi agrees. “But we haven’t gotten snuffed out—yet—from letting one man join us, so we’ll give it a shot. If you were with one other person, that would’ve been different. More measures would’ve been taken. We most likely would’ve just shot you. But you don’t have shit. You’re more helpless than an animal out in the wild. At least they can feed themselves.”
Erwin nods a little. He’s not wrong. He has nothing left.
“You can stay with us long-term. But you know the conditions,” Levi continues firmly, gaining Erwin’s wary gaze. “You have to earn our trust. You have to prove your worth. And, we’re still going to fuck. If you changed your mind with the clarity of a full stomach, you can still leave. But I don’t think you did, and I don’t think you will.”
Taking a moment to absorb this, Erwin averts his gaze from Levi’s and ponders the dread that sits heavily in his gut. Sex is something he hasn’t had since this all began. It wasn’t exactly a concern of his. But being put in this position, having really no choice but to give Levi want he wants—it doesn’t sit right at all with him. That being said, it’s not that Levi is unattractive to him… No, in fact, he is Erwin’s type, certainly. The lack of choice is what he loathes.
“I didn’t change my mind,” murmurs Erwin. “I just don’t understand why. Why would you want that from me? Don’t you… Wouldn’t you want to be with someone you trust? You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Levi is silent long enough it has Erwin peeking up at him. He’s immediately pinned by the powerful stare of those steely eyes, made intimidating, purposeful in the dim light of the trailer. His voice emerges low and smooth, a sound Erwin must admit is quite nice.
“Because you’re my type. The men here are all woefully straight, or just not good enough for me. And, if you tried anything, I know I could kick your ass. That’s about it.”
Without waiting for a response Levi stands, snatching the cup and plate from beside Erwin. The floor of the trailer creaks noisily under his boots when he paces over to the door. Erwin gapes, watching him open it and push it out. He meets Erwin’s bewildered gaze.
“We’ll do it tomorrow. For now, sleep. You can take your shower and shave tomorrow morning. See you later. If you ever gotta take a dump, knock on the door. There'll be a guard posted.”
Then he steps out and snaps the door shut, locking it as he did before. Erwin sits there in silence, stunned.