Archive of Our Own

T e n s i o n    a t    L o c k o u t

by Safire Lupe

Tension at lockout - the moment at the top of a lift where you stand erect, with knees locked, shoulders back, bar motionless; Control and intensity distilled into one decisive second.

At lockout, everything must hold:

muscle, breath, and want.

When he'd pushed open the door, the last of that evening's clients had just begun to trickle towards the shower rooms, practically dragging their legs after their coach forced them through the last grueling set of Bulgarian split squats – a routine that even the likes of Levi Ackerman hated with a passion every leg day.

The overhead lights in the spacious hallway gleamed over the grey linoleum. Levi paused before the office door to look at the streaks left behind by rubber soles, layered over each other from maybe hundreds of feet crossing the floors all day. He frowned in disgust, mentally shaking his head at how anyone would think to walk into an indoor gym wearing the same shoes they wore outdoors. Dirt, sweat, and god-knows-what else tracked into a place where people dropped to the ground for push-ups and planted their palms on that same surface. He himself only switches into his trainers once he's inside the gym. They were shoes meant for this space and for this space only. However, the majority did not share the same mentality. And Levi, once again, is left to mop all those disgusting streaks several times tonight, as he had been doing so every night for the past five years.

Fortunately, the deep nights didn't bring with them lots of people to add on to the invisible layers of sweat sprayed into every damn surface. He mostly manages to clean through every machine, dumbbell, bar, and weight plate without much disturbance within the ten hours he has to work here, although he usually stays longer. It wasn't exactly a problem, considering he lives in the apartment two floors above the gym.

For Levi, his day begins just as the sun sets.

The sight he'd open his eyes to would almost always be the thin streaks of orange light of dusk seeping through the narrow gaps of his blackout curtains against the darkness of his bedroom. He'd rise and push open those blinds just to catch the last several minutes of the day's light, and then fix himself with his ritualistic first cup of black tea and a quick high-carb meal that involves a store-bought toasted bagel, whilst the sky was still in a muted purple afterglow. He'd shower quick, change into his usual attire of a plain black shirt and grey joggers, grab his phone and wallet, and slip his socked feet into a comfortable pair of slides while he carried his training shoes hooked on his fingers.

He'd leave his flat just as the evening turned dark, and use the stairs of the emergency exit to make it down to the back door of the gym located on the first floor. He didn't need a big ass gym bag or anything. All his stuff for training was at the gym administrator's office, in a locker by his desk – a desk he sat less often, considering that he spends more time in the actual gym space to wipe off the day's faint grime with a trusty rag and lime scented disinfectant. With how meticulous he was, people assumed he was the janitor. They always looked stupidly surprised when they found out he co-owned the place with the imposingly tall, bushy-browed blond gym manager and the loud, annoyingly eccentric physical therapist with slightly crooked glasses.

Said blond manager and annoying PT were behind the glass door of the administrator's office, already halfway through packing their bags while chatting in muffled fragments behind the frosted wall. Their voices drowned beneath music blaring through the speakers – an upbeat pop song with painfully cheesy romantic lyrics. Unusual for these walls. Not unusual for the date.

"What the fuck is this music, Erwin?" Levi grumbled as he pushed into the office. The high notes of Beyoncé's "Love on Top" slipped in for a second before the door swung shut and mercifully muffled it.

Erwin looked up from behind his desk, one hand on the zipper of a brown jacket that didn't look like his usual hoodie. Levi even noted that he had changed into a more casual attire of dark jeans and a buttoned-up shirt under the jacket.

"It's Valentine's Day," The taller male said, like that alone explained everything. "I thought a more festive playlist was appropriate."

On the other side of the room, Hange slung their duffel bag over one shoulder, a toothy grin plastered on their face. "This was the least we could do to mark the occasion since someone–" they gave Levi a pointed look, "–was violently opposed to decorating the lobby with glitter hearts."

"Because it's a gym, Four-eyes. Not a kid's craft fair," Levi deadpanned as he crossed behind his own desk, slipping open a drawer to throw in his wallet and keys before flopping down on his chair. "Besides, I didn't want to scrape fucking glitter out of the turf for the rest of the month, like last year."

The memory of that red-and-pink disaster made him scowl, and he dropped his trainers by his feet with more force than necessary. The glitter had spread past the lobby and into the workout floor; even after he scrubbed the place clean, he still found remnants of the shit in nooks and crannies. Sometimes, it is wedged between the pulleys of the cable machines.

Erwin chuckled. "For the record, I did think your decorations looked nice, Hange. But I agree with Levi about the mess. So I figured music was a safer compromise to keep the spirit of the occasion alive."

"Spirit of the occasion," Levi repeated flatly before giving a snort. He slipped off his slides, pushing them on a space under his desk, before bending down to pull on his trainers, fingers yanking the laces tight. "Valentine's is just another corporate marketing scheme dressed up as a holiday." He tugged the knot into place, then looked up with a scowl, eyeing the glass wall that faced the turf space to watch the last client wave to his coach before finally exiting through the front door.

"Besides, it doesn't even fit a business like this," he continued. "Half our members are probably here because they're alone and heartbroken and trying to deadlift their feelings into the damn floor."

Hange gasped theatrically. "Like you?"

Levi shot them a sharp look. "I'm good being single, thank you very much."

"Sounds super convincing, Shorty."

"Like either of you is any different," he shot back.

"Actually," Erwin said, reaching for his bag, "I do have a date tonight."

Levi paused mid-reach for his other shoe and stared at him. He raised a brow, looking at his best friend in silent incredulity. Erwin's response was silent in kind, with a small shrug and a sheepish smile to highlight that he wasn't kidding.

Levi merely rolled his eyes as he turned back to slipping on his other shoe. "No wonder. I knew something smelled off the second I walked in. That sickening perfume gave you away, Eyebrows," he said, gesturing vaguely in Erwin's direction, nose crinkling to emphasize how the strong musk grated on his olfactory nerves.

"It's Tom Ford, Levi."

"Disgustingly expensive for a disgusting smell," Levi muttered.

Hange barked a laugh. "My, aren't you extra grumpy tonight. What is it, Levi? Valentine's got you bitter and alone because you're spending it glued to the gym?"

He gave them a flat look as he double-knotted his laces. "I'm not bitter. I'm on shift. Same as every other night." He finally straightened, leaning back on his chair. "This place is open twenty-four hours. Someone has to keep it running while you two go off and waste your time dressing up for dates."

In fact, Levi was all the more looking forward to a night like this. Holidays often meant that the grand majority of their members spent more time with other people, celebrating the occasion at home or in other places. Working out would be the least of their priority in times like these, unless they were one of those powerlifters eager to keep their training as consistent as possible. Then again, as a former professional powerlifter himself, Levi knew most of them trained in daylight hours, making sure they got enough sleep before doing it all over again the next day.

And the evenings were mostly for people who only had an hour or two after their day jobs, or introverts experienced enough to train alone without asking for coaching beyond the occasional request for a spot. Those night owls usually trickled in from seven to midnight. After that, the gym goes quiet – a good window for Levi to do an initial sweep and wipe-down, run through his own training routine that could stretch up to two hours, then clean the place thoroughly again before the first regular showed up just before dawn.

Levi technically didn't start his shift until eight, when Erwin and Hange clocked out. But he usually saw the same faces as soon as he left his apartment, often still mid-workout. He'd expected tonight to be slow, though. The usual pre-midnight crowd wasn't around at all. The last one had already left, and only Miche, one of their instructors, remained on the turf, finishing a few sets of bicep curls.

Erwin shook his head with an unimpressed smirk. "You do realize we also handle finance and payroll, supplier contracts, and most of the coaching for our daytime members."

Levi clicked his tongue. "And I handle the part where this place doesn't smell like a boys' high school locker-room graveyard before sunrise."

At least today, he could start cleaning early. That was the only good thing this stupid holiday had going for it.

Erwin gave a small shrug and crossed the room, pausing by the door to glance into the gym through the glass wall. Someone familiar had just walked in, beelining straight for Miche.

"What's Nanaba doing here? Doesn't she work out in the mornings?" Levi asked, recognizing the newcomer as one of their longtime regulars. She'd been a member since he, Erwin, and Hange opened the gym, and knew them well enough now to count as a friend rather than just another client.

Though, in Levi's defense, he didn't spend much time with her compared to the other two. He didn't really spend much time beyond the gym or his flat. He has a car, but only ever uses it for personal errands or when visiting his mom. So many times, his two partners had to pry him from this space just so he could see society again. Not like he was interested.

"Didn't you know?" Hange chimed in, stretching their arms. "Miche asked her out a few months back. They've been dating for a while."

Levi turned to them with a scowl. "So we're letting our coaches date our members now?"

Hange huffed a laugh. "Oh, relax. Nanaba's technically a friend at this point."

Erwin nodded once. "And Miche isn't her coach." He adjusted the strap of his bag, voice even as always. "He handled her programming during her first year, yes. But she stopped paying for coaching a long time ago once she got experienced enough to train independently."

"So there's no active professional arrangement," Hange added, wagging a finger at Levi. "If there's no money changing hands, then there's no ethical boundary crossed."

Erwin looks back at Levi, still with that sheepish smile. "If it helps, we've already talked to Miche about boundaries. No personal drama while in the gym, especially. Although I doubt that would ever happen since they technically don't come in the same time, since Miche's shift starts late in the afternoon and Nanaba prefers to train in the mornings."

As if on cue, Nanaba appeared behind the office door. She knocked on the glass in three quick raps before Erwin opened it with a polite smile. She popped her head through without stepping all the way inside.

"Hey, guys. Happy Valentine's." She smiled at all three of them. Only Erwin and Hange greeted her back.

"Yo, you two ready for your date?" Hange grinned.

A faint blush warmed Nanaba's cheeks. "Miche is still changing in the locker room. We'll head out after." Then she turned to Erwin. "Hey, I wanted to ask about another member. She's a friend."

One of Erwin's thick brows rose. "I guess it depends. What's it about?"

"Well, she used to come around the same time as me, but I haven't seen or heard from her in a while. We follow each other on Instagram, and she used to post from here all the time, but nothing lately." Nanaba's brows knitted together, concern plain on her face. "She mentioned she was going through some personal stuff. I just wanted to know if she's okay, or at least still coming in."

"I see," Erwin said softly, nodding. "I haven't received any recent membership cancellation requests. It's possible she just changed her training hours. I can check the log tomorrow, Nanaba. Text me her name."

"Sure. That would be great, Erwin."

Miche came in from the locker rooms right on time, already changed into casual clothes. His dirty blond hair was still damp from the gym showers – showers Levi refused to use himself. No way in hell was he sharing a bath space with that many people cycling through all day.

The two lovebirds said their goodbyes and left quickly, probably trying not to miss their late-night dinner reservation at some restaurant Levi didn't care enough to hear about. He was already out of his chair, turning to the cabinet behind him to grab his lifting belt, wrist straps, and a clean towel.

"By the way, Levi," Hange said between a yawn, "your nine o'clock still isn't here."

"Doubt Eren's coming today," Levi replied flatly as he set everything down on his desk. "Brat's out on a date with Mikasa."

"Your cousin?"

"Unfortunately," he sighed.

Levi didn't take many coaching assignments, and the few he did usually bailed once they got a taste of his regimen, then requested different coaches and schedules. The Yeager kid was currently the only one paying him for coaching, and Levi had only accepted because his younger cousin insisted. Those two had been neighbors since childhood. Levi knew exactly how deep Mikasa's crush on the boy ran, and she'd been practically vibrating with excitement when Eren finally asked her out a few days ago. He still found them an odd pair – Mikasa in her all-black, silver-skull goth aesthetic, and Eren just being… plain Eren. Long hair past his shoulders, old joggers, the same worn hoodie Levi had been telling him to wash for weeks. That thing reeked of accumulated sweat.

"Speaking of dates, I'll be late for mine if I don't leave now," Erwin said, glancing at his wristwatch. He looked over his shoulder at Levi, hand already on the door. "I'll leave the gym to you."

"As always," Levi muttered, barely looking up as he sat and clicked through the office desktop, opening Spotify to finally shut up the playlist blasting outside. It was stupidly labeled Leg Day Love Songs.

As soon as Erwin left, Hange hitched their duffel higher on their shoulder, yawning wide and stretching their legs. "Well, unlike Casanova over there, I've got a date with my bed. I'm dead after today's clients."

Levi glanced up at them, expression unimpressed. "And you call me bitter because I'm alone on Valentine's."

Their grin went wide and toothy. "Can't be bitter when you've got the sweet company of a very reliable vibrator."

Levi shot them an appalled look. "You're disgusting, Shitty-glasses. Get the fuck out of my gym."

They laughed as they opened the door. "Ah-ah-ah, Shorty. It's OUR gym," they sing-sang, much to his dismay, as they crossed out the office.

But before the door fully closed, Hange popped their head back through the gap. "G'night, Levi. Don't be a stranger," they said, softer this time, with a friendlier smile.

Levi answered without the bite from earlier. "Night, Hange."

Once his best friends had finally cleared the premises, he scrolled to his usual playlists and clicked one on. Then he stepped out of the office and headed straight for the supply closet, pulling out the mop.

He'd shut off a few overhead lights, letting the gym settle into a softer glow. No point keeping every bulb blazing when there was barely anyone else around.

With no other bodies moving under the soft amber fluorescents, Levi started his routine – wiping dried sweat marks and shoe streaks off the floor that had bothered him since he came in – while the patterned beats and vocals in the intro of "Follow You" by Bring Me The Horizon rolled through the speakers around him.

[My head is haunting me

and my heart feels like a ghost]

Prior to the stroke of midnight, only one other member had shown up: a tall, freckle-faced brunette teen who spent most of her sessions on the treadmill before doing a few sets of walking lunges across the floor. A runner's routine. She kept to herself through the hour, chunky noise-cancelling headphones over her ears. Since she stayed in the cardio area, she wasn't in his way while he finished wiping down the last of the dumbbells in the free-weights section.

By the time the other soul in that large space had left, Levi was done with his initial cleaning. After returning the supplies to the closet, he went back to the office for his towel, wrist wraps, and an insulated bottle of water from the pantry.

He set everything on a bench and faced the full mirrored wall, now spotless after he'd scrubbed off all the dried sweat spray and palm marks from whoever thought it was a good idea to do wall push-ups against a mirror. He exhaled deeply, inwardly satisfied enough with the result of his chores to finally start his program, because no way in hell was he starting a training block while imagining someone else's filth still clinging to every dumbbell grip.

Today was an upper-push day. Chest, shoulders, triceps. Probably his favorite split. So much so that he did it twice a week. Sometimes thrice, if he was up for it. Staying consistent was easy when he practically owned a gym and lived above it, and after more than a decade of training, his thirty-year-old body barely registered soreness anymore. He'd been active in sports as a kid, but only got into lifting at eighteen, dragged in by Bushy-brows, who figured it would help them through the stresses of college – prevent Erwin from drowning in business management requirements while at the same time pull Levi away from under a stack of textbooks. They met Hange a year later when she was a PT student interning at the same gym. Somehow, the three of them got along – strangely enough, for Levi – to the point of dreaming about opening their own fitness center one day.

Simple physique building suddenly evolved to powerlifting after Levi met Miche shortly after finishing his physical education degree. For a man of his height, he was absurdly strong – and got stronger absurdly fast. After only two years of training, he won gold in his weight class in both local and state competitions twice. His best numbers were a 250 kg squat, a 190 kg bench, and a 310 kg deadlift. A total of 750 kg – a mark that still hadn't been broken since he retired five years ago.

The prize money from those meets wasn't much, but it was enough to add to the start-up capital he pooled with Erwin and Hange. They rented the vacant commercial space on the ground floor of his apartment building, each of them quit their day jobs, and five years later, the business was thriving. Scout 24/7 Fitness stayed open even on holidays – something very much needed in Trost, a bustling business capital where someone was always awake at every hour and eager to work out.

Well, maybe except for tonight.

Levi rolled his neck once, twice, until the faint stiffness at the base of his skull eased, before starting with his routine upper body warm-up. Dynamic shoulder work – large arm circles with controlled swings across his body until his chest and rear delts loosened. From there, he went into scapular push-ups, then thoracic rotations followed, then inchworms across the turf, palms pressing into rubber flooring that was finally clean enough for him to tolerate. He finished with alternating lunge-and-reach stretches, opening hip flexors while priming his upper back and core.

Only then did he glance at the clock, tap a timer on his phone, and hop into three straight minutes of jumping jacks until his heart thudded fast enough to kick the rest of his body fully awake. The gym's speakers were still looping the series of metalcore songs from the playlist he'd chosen. The classic rock beat in Halestorm's Everest was steady enough to help him keep the tempo of every jump.

When the timer chimed, Levi stopped, bent at the waist with hands on thighs for a few breaths, then stood and exhaled long through his nose. He took a slow pull from his bottle, wiped his brow with the edge of his towel, and got to work.

He wheeled a flat bench toward the squat racks so he could bench inside the uprights. Safer that way when no one else was around. The steel legs scraped softly against the floor before he angled them into position and checked alignment by eye.

He loaded one red plate on each side of the 20 kg Olympic bar. Twenty plus twenty-five plus twenty-five. Seventy kilos total. After snapping the collars on, he gave each plate a firm shake to confirm they were secure, then rolled his shoulders one more time and tightened his wrist wraps. He lay back on the bench, eyes directly under the bar, then scooted an inch until the bar was aligned over his collarbone line. Both hands closed around the knurling, a little wider than shoulder width.

When he felt ready, he pinched his shoulder blades down and together to engage his lats, then lifted his chest until a controlled arch formed through his thoracic spine. With core braced and feet planted flat and firm into the floor, he unracked the bar and held it steady over mid-chest for a beat. Then began pressing.

The fair set moved fast, almost insultingly light by his standards. But that was the point. He needed to wake up his nervous system. Let his joints remember what they were built to do. He re-racked, breathed, added weight, and went again. Set after set, the load climbed. Small plates, then larger ones. His tempo stayed strict. Each descent of the bar was controlled, pausing briefly to hover a touch above his chest, then pressing it back up.

By the time he reached his final working set, the bar sat at 130 kg. It was just seventy percent of his old best. But that was enough. Levi had stopped chasing the numbers the day he decided to stop competing. He now only lifted to maintain what he'd built, keeping strength and structure as is while still leaving enough in the tank to do again tomorrow.

His pectorals had started to burn by the fourth rep, and by six, his triceps were starting to bite him. By rep seven, the bar speed slowed enough for him to feel every centimeter of the press. He could've pushed for one more on ego alone, but ego was stupid, and no one was around to spot him if he got pinned.

He took the rep anyway.

That final ascent wobbled halfway up, his elbows shaking as his arms fought for leverage. Levi gritted his teeth, huffed hard through his nose, and kept the bar moving out of sheer stubbornness. The plates rattled faintly. He locked out with a final, shaky extension and guided the bar into the hooks with a loud iron-on-steel clash.

He stayed there a second, arms still extended, making sure both sides were seated. Only then did he let go, and Levi sat up with a deep exhale, forearms resting on his thighs while he caught his breath. Sweat rolled from his hairline down the side of his face. He wiped it with his towel, chest still rising and falling hard from the set.

It took him a moment to notice the silence had changed.

Not true silence – a Dayseekers song he'd forgotten the title of was still played low through the speakers. But this was a particular kind of quiet that came with another person standing still and watching.

He looked up.

A woman stood at the archway between the lobby and locker hall, paused mid-step.

She was petite, probably just under his height, wearing a zipped gray hoodie and black leggings. A large, pink duffel over one shoulder, and a full-face white helmet carried on one hand. Dark combat boots were on her feet, which was an unusual thing for someone to wear together with yoga pants. But then, Levi sees what looks like a shoe bag hanging over her arm, with the outline of a pair of trainers in the semi-transparent fabric.

Her hair was copper-colored, cropped to her chin, slightly ruffled at the crown, probably because of the helmet. She must have driven here on a motorcycle.

Her amber, doe-like eyes were fixed on him.

Levi was used to being stared at after a heavy set. Usually, it came with obvious reactions that ranged from being impressed, intimidated, curious, and occasionally annoyed.

This was different.

She looked like she was studying him.

Levi didn't know how long they'd been staring at each other, but it seemed to eventually register to the woman how awkward the exchange was. She finally pulled her eyes away from him, continuing her earlier path at a brisk pace and with a clipped expression.

Levi followed her with his eyes until she disappeared around the corner. She was unfamiliar to him, but he did not think she was a new member, seeing that she knew where the locker area was.

He glanced up at the digital clock in one corner of the room. 2:26 AM.

Whoever she was, she wasn't a regular of this hour.

Levi finally stood up, his breathing now even, and reached for his water bottle to take a long swing. Afterwards, he began to pull the bench away from the rack. He had a smaller disinfectant spray and rag nearby, and he took a quick moment to wipe his sweat from the bench's surface. Then he turned back towards the racks to begin restacking the plates he used. He moved the bar on the hooks higher on the rack, just at the height of his shoulders, then reset the bar with just one plate on each side. Just 70 kg for three sets of shoulder presses. Maybe he'd add a fourth one if his delts didn't fail him early.

He was halfway done on his first set when the ginger-haired woman left the lockers and was now on the turf. Levi could see her reflected in the mirror in front of him. She had slipped off her hoodie and was now wearing a sensibly designed deep red sports bra. Her boots are now off and replaced by cream-colored trainers. Levi was at least thankful that there was finally someone who understood that wearing the same shoes outdoors into the gym was as good as a public health hazard.

He finished the set and re-racked the bar, then leaned against the cold iron uprights to catch his breath. Eyes fixed on the mirror ahead, he watched the newcomer's reflection as she moved through a series of dynamic warm-up stretches at the yoga area. There was another wall-length mirror there, and even from that far corner, he could still catch his own reflection ghosted beside hers.

Levi went back to work, finishing his second and third sets in quick succession. Again, in the mirror in front of him, he caught her. She had moved to the free-weights section beside his rack, scanning the dumbbells that he'd lined up meticulously by weight.

He pushed into a fourth set, but his attention kept drifting. In the reflection, she picked up an 18-kilo dumbbell and gave it a small test lift, as if judging the load in her hand, then set it down and took one of the 12s instead. By then, Levi had lost track of his reps.

Didn't matter. He could keep pressing until the bar stopped moving.

His shoulders were burning by the time he finally re-racked it.

Levi stripped the plates off the bar one by one, metal clanking against metal as he restacked them by the rack. He sprayed the shaft, wiped down the knurling, then ran the rag over the uprights where his palms had been.

Only when he was done did he look at her again, but this time from the corner of his eye.

She was in the middle of a goblet squat set, both hands cupping the 12-kilo dumbbell at her chest. Her form was fine. Better than fine, actually. Chest up, heels planted, knees tracking cleanly over her toes, no ugly spinal collapse at the bottom.

Still, the reps were too easy. Quick down, quick up. No grind. No shake. No real fight in the sticking point. To Levi's eye, that weight wasn't demanding enough to force tension. The 18 she tested earlier would've challenged her more, enough to make each rep mean something.

He pretended to focus on folding his towel, but his gaze kept returning to the mirror. She powered through another handful of reps at the same pace, controlled but light, like she was warming up and forgot to progress the load.

Coach instinct prickled under his skin annoyingly. If she stayed at 12, she'd finish the set breathing hard, maybe, but not taxed. Not the kind of work that built anything except sweat.

Levi turned away from her reflection. She moved like someone who knew what she was doing, and unless she asked for input, or unless her form crossed into injury territory, he had no reason to interfere.

He made his way to the cable station and started his accessory block. First with cable flyers, then single-arm chest presses. Weights lowered, but movements still controlled. Both were just meant to correct any imbalances, targeting smaller muscle groups.

He kept his eyes mostly on his own form in the mirror, but brief glances kept slipping her way.

She'd moved through more legwork. Another round of squats, then curtsy lunges that looked noticeably wobbly, knees fighting for alignment on the cross-back step before she corrected mid-rep. After that, she transitioned to the vertical leg press, loading light and moving with high reps. Everything was light. Everything was twelve reps. Twelve on one exercise, twelve on the next, twelve again.

Levi didn't know why he kept counting. It was distracting enough that he lost count of his own sets twice. He'd been running AMRAP on his accessories, pushing each set until the target muscles gave out and his speed died. Still, the fact that he was tracking her numbers more cleanly than his own annoyed him more than it should have.

He shook his head, mostly to himself.

Last round in his routine: lateral raises. Three sets. Then done.

That meant moving to the free-weights area.

Levi grabbed his bottle and towel, then crossed the floor and chose a bench with deliberate distance from the copper-haired woman. He set his things down, rolled his shoulders once, and stepped toward the upper row of dumbbells. His hand reached for the 18s–

–and another hand came in at the same time, catching the back of his with a light slap.

Levi turned his head. His steel-blue eyes met amber, and neither of them moved.

Up close, she looked even more stripped down than in the mirror. No makeup, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, sweat beading along her temples and upper lip. A warm flush colored her face. From exertion, maybe. Possibly from embarrassment.

The lower lids of her eyes were a little swollen too, tinged pink and inflamed with a faint bruised purple beneath. Poor sleep, Levi guessed.

"Sorry," she said softly, cautious, withdrawing her hand first. "I didn't mean to–"

"You need these?" Levi cut in, nudging his chin toward the 18-kilo pair.

She blinked once, then nodded. "Yeah," she replied, voice almost quiet.

Levi paused a fraction. After watching her stick to 12s all night, he hadn't expected her to jump up now.

"Take them," he said.

He shifted one slot over and wrapped his hands around the 20s instead. Heavy enough that his shoulders would probably bitch at him in the morning after everything he'd already pressed tonight. Fine. He could handle it.

Without another word, he carried the dumbbells back to his bench, kept a clear stretch of space between them, and started his first set of lateral raises. His eyes stayed on his own form in the mirror, but her reflection lingered at the edge of his sightline.

She'd moved on to dumbbell Romanian deadlifts.

This time, Levi caught a form break. It was small enough that most amateur gym-goers would let it slide. Big enough that, to him, it made the whole movement miss its point.

Her knees bent too much on the descent, turning the pattern into something halfway between a squat and a hinge. Then, on the way up, she rose straight through her torso instead of driving her hips back under her and finishing the hinge properly. The dumbbells traveled, but the load kept leaking away from her posterior chain.

He watched her finish the set like that, jaw tightening.

By then, he'd lost count of his own reps again.

Levi cursed silently and forced himself through AMRAP with the heavy 20s anyway, rep after strict rep until his lateral delts burned hot. He lowered the dumbbells, sat back on the bench, and let his forearms rest on his thighs while he caught his breath.

His shoulders felt like fire. He was already considering ending the final round right there if he still wanted to lift his arms tomorrow.

Beside him, she'd reset her stance and started her second set.

First rep, same problem.

Then again, in the second rap, and the third...

"Hey," Levi said, voice cutting through the music. "You're squatting your RDL."

She paused mid-hinge and looked over, breathing a little hard. No offended glare. No defensive snap. Just a brief blink, like she was processing what he said.

"I am?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." He stood and stepped closer, but still kept enough distance not to crowd her. "Too much knee bend on the way down. Then you're standing straight up instead of finishing your hips through."

She shifted her grip on the dumbbells, attentive. "Okay…"

"Soften your knees. Don't keep bending them like that. Freeze that angle." He tapped his own thigh lightly. "Then push your hips back. Back. Not down. Like you're trying to close a door with your ass."

He paused after the word, jaw tightening as his mouth snapped shut. Erwin had told him more than once to watch his language around clients and members whenever they asked for help. But Levi had always been a foul-mouthed bastard, and reining it in didn't come naturally. Besides, some people only listened when the truth hit hard enough to crack through their thick skulls.

But this girl didn't look a bit offended by the word. Instead, she started adjusting her stance.

"Like this?" she asked.

"No, you're still squatting a little at the end. Here..." He took one of the 18s from her hand, then demonstrated one clean rep for her.

"See?" he said. "This is a hinge. Not a squat."

Her amber eyes tracked the movement closely. "Got it."

"When you descend, keep your spine neutral. You don't have to keep the dumbbell going down further beyond your knees. Just enough until you feel the stretch on your hamstrings," he continued. "On the way up, don't lift your chest first. Drive hips forward. Stand tall at the top. No need to squeeze your glutes. Most of the tension's at the bottom of the movement anyway."

She nodded again, more certain this time.

He handed her back the dumbbell he had taken. It was heavy enough that he had to maintain hold on it while she wrapped her hand on the grip, their fingers touching in the process.

Levi let it go and took half a step back.

"Go."

She reset her feet and tried the next rep. Better knee control, cleaner path, still a little tentative through the bottom.

"Again," he said.

The second rep was better.

"Keep your ribs down. Brace your core."

The hinge was cleaner at the third rep.

"Good," Levi said. "Now keep the dumbbells close. Drag the line down your thighs."

She did. Her pace slowed, more controlled now, and her torso stopped jerking upright out of the bottom.

"Yeah," Levi said, short and approving. "That."

She finished the set and straightened, a little flushed, breath unsteady but smiling now. It was small and colored with surprise.

Levi tilted his head, watching that smile for a beat.

"Feel it in your hamstrings now?" He asked.

Her smile widened further, relieved. "Yes. Actually, yes."

"Good."

She rolled her shoulders back and adjusted her grip. "I always felt this in my lower back before. I thought that was normal."

"It's common, but not the goal." He gestured at her midsection. "Brace harder before you descend. Keep your core tight and stack your ribs. If you keep dumping load into your lower back like earlier, you're going to piss it off one day."

There he goes again with that fucking mouth of his.

But like before, whether she was offended by his crassness at all, she didn't let it show.

She flashed him a toothy grin, eyes brighter than before. "Okay. I'll remember that."

Levi lifted his chin once, then stepped back toward his bench. "Do two more sets like that. Controlled reps."

He picked up the 20s he left behind, tested the weights in his hands again, hesitating to go on.

Then beside him, she spoke again, her voice quiet. "Thanks for correcting me."

He shrugged like it cost him nothing. Then he got into form, with the dumbbells in each hand, and restarted his lateral raises.

The first rep hurt. The second even more. The rest felt like someone had lit his left delt with a match.

But in the mirror, he could see her setting up for the next set. Knees soft, hips back, dumbbells tracking close to her legs. Then a quick, clean hinge.

Levi didn't say anything else. He just kept lifting, counting his own reps this time.

Another Bad Omen's song played in the background. Drifting between them were the notes of a softer ballad, vocals thin and melodic…

[If you wanna know, it depends who's asking

Who, who are you?]

Three soft knocks on the office glass door made Levi look up from his phone. He'd been sprawled almost lazily on the sofa, right arm crossed over his chest while his left hand kneaded the soreness in his shoulder – his weaker side, always the first to bite after he overdid push work.

Behind the frosted glass, he could make out a short silhouette and a blur of copper hair. A smaller clock on the shelf beside the door glowed 4:02 A.M.

Two more quick knocks followed, and he finally pushed himself off the couch.

He opened the door just enough to face the only other soul on the entire floor.

Levi had finished earlier while she was still in the middle of her last RDL set, and instead of cooling down with stretches, he'd decided to leave that for later – after she was gone.

She looked about ready to leave now, helmet and bags in hand. Her hoodie was back on, and she'd swapped her sweaty leggings for a pair of red joggers. The combat boots were back on her feet, too.

Her short ginger hair was still damp with sweat, pushed behind her ears. She didn't look like she'd used the shower.

Good. Levi still had to clean it.

"Um… hi," she started slowly.

"Hey," he answered, flat as ever, leaning against the doorframe. "Need something?"

She adjusted the duffel and shoe bag hanging from one arm before continuing. "Are you one of the coaches here?"

He shrugged, and the movement lit up the soreness in his shoulder again. "Yeah. I coach a little. Co-own the place too."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She shifted where she stood, like she was choosing her words.

"Well… your name is Coach…?"

"Levi. Just Levi. No need to add the coach part."

"Oh. Okay. Well," she mumbled nervously, "I was wondering if there's… a fee… for you correcting my form earlier."

Levi raised an eyebrow at that.

"No need," he said. "It was one form correction. I didn't program your whole routine."

She blinked, visibly surprised. "Really?"

"Really."

For a second, she just stood there, then nodded as she accepted it, only to immediately start fumbling through her bag anyway. Levi watched her juggle the duffel and the shoe bag against one arm while trying to dig around with the other hand. The helmet tipped dangerously when she finally yanked something free.

He shifted, half-ready to catch it, but she straightened herself with a stubborn little jerk and crouched to set the helmet by her feet first.

Then she stood and held out what she'd pulled from her bag.

Levi looked down, mildly thrown off. It was a microwave-safe plastic container.

"Would you… Take this instead?" she asked, shy again.

Before he could answer, she popped the lid open.

Inside were cookies.

Heart-shaped.

"They're peanut butter protein cookies," she said, voice small but earnest. "I made them myself."

Levi stared at the shapes for a damn moment. The whole thing actually smelled really good, and his mouth had begun to water immediately. But it was the stupid shape that made him frown.

"Why do they have to look like that?" he grumbled.

She gave a small shrug. "It's Valentine's."

Of course.

He sighed through his nose. "You really don't have to pay me anything for a quick form fix."

"But… It's not payment if it's food," she said, and nudged the container closer to him.

Levi found that logic ridiculous.

Yet, she continued to push it towards him again, standing a little closer than before.

He let out a long sigh and reluctantly took the container from her hand. He glanced down at the cookies in silence. They were too neat, each heart evenly edged. It really did look like someone who made these put in time and care. More than what someone would do for a post-workout snack meant only for herself.

He pinched one heart-shaped cookie between his fingers, turning it slightly.

In a moment of curiosity that felt strange even to him, he asked, "Your boyfriend won't complain that his Valentine's snack ended up with some guy who corrected your hinge?"

The shift in her face was immediate.

It wasn't a dramatic change, just subtle enough. The shy eagerness in her eyes stayed, but something behind it dimmed.

She lowered her gaze for a beat, then looked back up.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said softly. A tiny pause. "Not since yesterday."

Damn.

Levi was right after all. Anyone who bothers coming to the gym in the dead of the night on Valentine's really is single and heartbroken and deadlifting their sorrows away. Although the Romanian version of the lift wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but it was close enough.

For a moment, he just stood there by the glass door, cookie in hand, with no smart remark sharp enough to throw back at that.

So he glanced down at the cookie between his fingers, then, slowly, took a bite.

The edge gave a light crisp before the middle softened, dense but not dry. Peanut butter came through first. And it was an actual, natural nutty flavor, not that fake sweetener shit. It didn't have a powdery aftertaste. It didn't taste like fucking cardboard despite clearly being based on oatmeal flour.

Levi chewed, and that was when he noticed she was staring at him. Quiet, almost tense, like she was waiting for a verdict.

He swallowed and met her eyes. Her irises gleamed tints of gold under the low lights.

"It's good," he said.

She blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He lifted the half-eaten cookie slightly. "Doesn't taste bland like most protein cookies. Thanks."

The relief on her face came quickly and warm. She smiled, small but real. "I'm glad you like it."

Levi gave a short nod. "Mm."

She shifted her bags again. "Anyway... I should go. Thanks again for the help earlier." She bent to pick up her helmet.

"Sure."

He was already turning back toward the office when he stopped himself and looked at her over his shoulder. His next words caught her – and him as well – by surprise.

"Your ex must be a dumbass," Levi said. "Could've had this and still messed up. His loss then."

She blinked. Her face warmed visibly.

And then she started laughing under her breath. The sound was strangely comforting, Levi oddly realized.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I guess it's his loss."

A silence passed between them; only the ambient sound of the air conditioner hummed in the background. Levi had long turned off the music connected to the speakers.

Levi cleared his throat, breaking the quiet, and lifted the container a little. "I'll wash this. You can pick it up from the office anytime."

"Sure."

"In case I'm not here, I'll leave a note for my co-owners to hand it over." He tilted his head. "If they ask who it belongs to, what do I tell them?"

She adjusted the strap of her duffel and gave him one last smile.

"Tell them it's Petra's."

Petra left through the front door a few minutes later. Levi watched from the lobby window as she swung onto a white motorcycle, helmet hiding the copper of her hair. She revved out of the parking lot, yellow headlights cutting through the night.

In the hours before dawn, Levi settled into the second cleaning ritual of his shift. There wasn't much point to it, really. Only he and Petra had been around to add a fresh layer of sweat and dead skin cells to the place. Still, powered by force of habit, Levi went through with another sweep and mop.

At some point, just as the sky began to bruise gold, he spotted a strand or two of copper hair on the floor near the free-weights area. For once, he wasn't nearly as bothered by it as he usually was.

The early birds had begun to trickle in by the time the clock read 6 AM. An hour later, Hange and another coach had timed in to replace him in the shift.

By the time Levi got back to his apartment, he'd showered and fixed himself a meal that was mostly scrambled eggs with a couple of boiled broccoli. Breakfast and dinner in one. He wasn't exactly a good cook, but this was easy, hearty, and provided him with enough protein to maintain his physique and strength. And that was good enough for him, even if it always tasted bland.

But the container of her protein cookies sat on his kitchen counter. Sweet and guilt-free.

He reheated them in the microwave, ate a few more, and kept munching while he washed the dishes.

She was back again two nights later.

Petra arrived later than she had the last time. The digital clock had just turned 3:00 A.M. when she pushed through the front door. Two other post-midnight regulars had been around before she came in, but they were already packing up.

Levi saw her through the mirror while he was crouched at the deadlift platform, sliding another 10 kg plate onto each side of a bar that was already loaded to 180 kg. She headed straight for the locker rooms without acknowledging anyone, even as one of the men passed her coming out of the male side. Although she did – and maybe Levi probably imagined it – throw one quick glance his way before turning the corner. His back had been to her, but he caught the flick of her eyes in the reflection.

He was halfway through six reps when she came back out. She passed behind him just as the bar hit the platform with a heavy thud. He'd been keeping a steady tempo - pull, controlled descent, reset - but when she sauntered off toward a machine, he took an extra second at the bottom to re-brace his core before starting again.

When he finished the set, plates rattling against the mat by his feet, he straightened with a hard exhale and then unclasped his thick belt with a quick flick of his thumb.

He kept his gaze lowered to the cold bar brushing his shins, but caught her in the mirror through his periphery. She was on the shoulder press machine.

Petra was doing a series of quick, lightweight reps on the machine. Probably a warm-up set. Her eyes were slightly downcast, too, and Levi finally looked at her reflection full-on. Biker shorts tonight. Dark blue. For a top, a fitted black jacket, fully zipped to her neck, with long sleeves with thumb holes.

As if she sensed it, she glanced up. Levi was a little too late looking away, and Petra caught his eye in the mirror.

She paused her reps. "Hi," she said shyly with a small smile. "Good evening."

It took him a second before he glanced back over his shoulder. "Morning," he greeted back flatly. Then, after a second, he muttered, "It's… technically morning,"

Still smiling, she gave a short nod and went back to her reps. He turned forward again, facing his own reflection.

Levi stared down at the bar, trying not to keep watching her and make things awkward. Normally, he was excellent at ignoring people unless they approached first. Maybe he just wasn't used to having another person around at this hour. After five years of night shifts, he knew the deadest hours were usually between three and five in the morning, give or take thirty minutes between the last regular leaving and the first early bird logging in before sunrise. It was exactly why he chose that window of time for training, so that there wouldn't be anyone in the way to break his set just to ask for help for a spot.

Although it wasn't like Petra was disturbing him or anything. He worked through another, heavier deadlift set while she moved through two more stations: pec fly, then triceps pushdowns on the cable stack. Upper-body night for her.

He was loading his final plate to total the entire thing to 230 kg – his intended max working weight for tonight. He could go heavier, really. But his left shoulder was still slightly off from that AMRAP-heavy push day two nights ago, and he had no intention of making it bite harder when he planned another upper split tomorrow.

Levi straightened after locking the collars and flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fists. His palms were red where the knurling had rubbed. Years of pulling had built thick calluses there, but long heavy sessions could still make his grip fail before his legs were done. He didn't like using chalk to support his grip – the white dust flew everywhere, and it'd be a bitch to clean.

He did have lifting wrist straps. He normally only used them if he was planning to deadlift heavier than 250, but tonight he didn't feel like letting grip ruin the point of the set. So, he loosened his weightlifting belt, dropped it on a nearby incline bench, and headed toward the office, throwing a brief glance at Petra in the mirror on the way. She'd left the machines and was moving to the free weights.

Inside the dim office, he fished through the cabinet behind his desk. He'd left the office lights off, so the only illumination came from the gym floor bleeding through the glass wall. He found one strap and tossed it onto his desk. It landed right beside a clean plastic container with a Post-it stuck on top that said For Petra.

He stared at it for a second. She hadn't picked it up yesterday. And she hadn't come in last night.

Once he found the other strap, he picked up its pair, along with the container, and wordlessly headed back towards his bar on the deadlift platform. He planned to hand it over to her after he finished his final working set, but then halted when he saw her begin lateral raises in front of the mirror, a 5 kg dumbbell in each hand.

He pressed his lips into a thin line as he studied her form.

Levi changed direction and approached the free-weights area, stopping slightly behind and to her side, far enough that her dumbbells wouldn't clip him at the top, but close enough that she'd see him in the mirror. She noticed him but didn't stop her reps.

"Petra," he called, watching her eyes fall to him in the reflection. She still continued her reps, but had her attention on him. "Lean your torso forward a little."

She blinked at the sudden instruction, but did as she was told, leaning just enough that her earlier erect stance was now at a slight angle.

"Angle your arms forward too, but keep the lift outward."

She adjusted mid-rep, lowering to her thighs before raising again with the corrected line.

"At the top, rotate so your pinkies tip slightly up," he added. "Like you're pouring tea into a cup."

She laughed softly, then followed it exactly. "I actually do that a lot. So that's easy."

"You like tea?" he asked, mildly curious.

Her reflection smiled as she nodded. "Earl Grey. Oolong. Darjeeling." Each tea name landed with a clean rep.

The corner of Levi's mouth twitched so faintly she might've missed it. "Good choices."

She finished three more reps in better form. The last one didn't quite reach full abduction, delts likely fatiguing after ten-plus reps, then she set the 5s down on the bench across from her with a small huff.

When she straightened, she crossed her arms and rubbed her upper arms.

"Feel that in your shoulders?" he asked, head tilting slightly.

She turned to him, still smiling, kneading her side delts. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Good." He finally looked at her directly instead of through the mirror. "Nothing was wrong with your earlier form. You were still hitting side delts. But the lean and wrist angle usually biases it better. Makes it more of a challenge."

"I see." She nodded, bright and earnest. "Thanks for the tip."

He gave a short nod, then glanced away from her smile. His eyes landed on the container in his hand.

"By the way," he said after a moment, lifting it toward her. "You didn't pick this up. Thought I'd hand it over before you forgot."

"Oh. Right. Thank you." She took it and set it on the bench beside her phone and dumbbells. "I had work yesterday, so I couldn't stop by. Plus, it was my rest day."

"I figured."

When she turned back, her smile was smaller now. She held his gaze for a second or two, then looked away. Her eyes flicked briefly toward his bar several paces behind him before returning to his face.

"Anyway," she said, "I'll let you get back to your training."

"Yeah. I'll let you get on too."

She nodded.

He nodded.

And then they parted ways, with Levi returning to the platform and Petra turning back to her dumbbells. Which wasn't really that far. The deadlift zone sat directly across from the free weights, and they ended up with their backs to each other as they continued their routines. But with mirrors spanning both walls, each could still catch the other in reflection.

Levi reached for his belt and cinched it tight around his waist, one notch firmer than comfort. The leather bit into his abdomen the way he liked for heavy pulls, restrictive enough to force a proper brace, but not so tight he'd black out before lockout. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, then looped his straps around his wrists and let them hang while he stepped up to the bar.

He took his stance and stilled.

In the mirror, Petra was still at the free weights, now halfway through her second set of lateral raises. Her form was cleaner this time: slight forward lean, arms angled just enough in the scapular plane, pinkies turning up near the top as he told her. He watched one rep, then another. All well controlled. No flailing. On her last few reps, her arms started to tremble, delts burning through the final inches.

Only then did Levi drag his focus back to the bar. He inhaled through his mouth, deep and sharp, filling his belly against the belt until his core went rock-hard. With hips hinged and hands down. He wrapped the straps fast, one side then the other, knurling, biting into the sore skin of his palms as he locked the bar into his grip. Lats on. Chest set. Shins just grazing steel. Then, pulled.

The bar broke from the floor and climbed tight against his legs, plates humming as they rose past his knees. He drove his hips through and stood tall at lockout, glutes squeezed. One rep. Controlled descent. Reset. Another pull. Two reps. Reset again, breath hissing between clenched teeth. Third rep up, slower.

He reloaded his breath at the bottom, eyes flicking once again to the mirror.

Petra had finished her last set and dropped onto the bench beside her, forearms resting on her thighs while she caught her breath. A flush on her cheeks from the exertion.

He looked away immediately.

Levi only planned for three reps on that final, exhausting set. But he felt like he still had a little bit more left in the tank for one more. So, he braced again and pulled.

This one moved like war. The bar peeled off the floor by stubborn millimeters, his legs shaking under the load as he dragged it up his shins and through the sticking point. His jaw tightened. He forced his hips through and locked out fully, trembling but steady. He held the top for a hard three seconds, then lowered the bar under control. Even so, the weight hit the platform with a thundering rattle that shook through the mat and into his bones.

He straightened with a rough exhale, unclipped his belt, and let it drop beside his feet. He stood there breathing heavy, hands on his hips, sweat running down the side of his neck and on the V-neck collar of his white shirt.

"You're pretty strong."

Levi turned his head over his shoulder at the sound of her voice.

Petra was still seated on the bench, facing him. She looked impressed as her wide amber eyes flickered between his face and the bar by his feet.

He looked back down at the loaded bar. "I guess," he said, breathy and nonchalant, as he nudged the stack of plates on one end of the bar with the tip of his shoe. It barely shifted on the mat.

"That's 210 kilos, right?" she asked.

"Two-thirty," he corrected, catching her reflection in front of him. "You forgot the bar."

"Oh. Right," Petra muttered under her breath. Then, after a beat, she asked, curious, "Is that your PR?"

He turned to her, chest still rising as he caught his breath, one brow lifting. "You know what PR means?"

"Yeah. Personal record." She shuffled on the bench to face him fully, offering a small, sheepish smile. But her eyes lowered; her brows furrowed slightly. "My… ex-boyfriend… kind of dabbles in powerlifting."

That genuinely surprised him. Though it explained the protein cookies as a Valentine's gift.

Levi stepped back and dropped onto the incline bench, grabbing his towel and slinging it over his shoulder. "This isn't my max," he said, wiping the sweat from his neck. "My PR is 310."

Petra's mouth parted, almost comically. "That's… really heavy."

He shrugged like the number meant nothing. In truth, he hadn't touched it again in years. Closest he'd gotten lately was 290. He'd tried a few times. He could still really max his squats and bench, but the bar wouldn't break the floor with the deadlifts. He'd brought it up as due to his age, maybe. He'd been twenty-five when he pulled that 310 in his last meet. Now that he wasn't competing, he wasn't aiming for anything more than that weight. Still, he sometimes missed the high of locking that weight out.

He didn't realize how long he'd gone quiet until he noticed the gym had gone silent. He'd queued an alt-rock playlist earlier and must've forgotten to set it on loop.

His breathing finally settled toward a warm-up pace. He pushed off the bench, glancing toward the office to restart the music, when Petra spoke again, voice shorter this time.

"Could you… Teach me how to do it?"

Levi paused and turned back, one dark brow raised. "Teach you what?"

"To deadlift."

He blinked. "You want to learn deadlifting?"

She looked down at her shoes, dragging the rubber soles softly against the floor. "Yeah… and bench. And back squats too," she said carefully.

He narrowed his eyes, studying her. "So basically, you want to learn powerlifting."

"I've been interested for a while. You don't think I can do it?" Her words came out more like a statement than a question – like she'd heard doubt before.

He shook his head. "Didn't say that. Anyone can do it. It just takes discipline and consistency." He sat back down, turning to face her fully, elbows resting on his knees. "And proper nutrition, too."

"I'm good with all three, actually," she said, a little more eager now. "I cook too. I'm a licensed nutritionist."

That impressed him. Also explained why those cookies were actually as good as they were healthy.

"I'm just wondering why," he said. "You already know how to work out. You mostly needed form adjustments. You know nutrition. Regular resistance training would still do a lot for you. Powerlifting isn't easy, and it can beat up your body when you're starting."

He paused, watching her expression turn pensive. Then a thought surfaced.

"You said your ex was into this. How long were you even together?"

She hesitated, then answered, "Three years."

"And how long have you been working out?"

"Two years."

"I'm surprised he didn't teach you, if you were that interested."

"Yeah, well…" She gave a tiny shrug. "He wasn't exactly keen on it."

"What do you mean?"

"He said I shouldn't lift heavy or I might… bulk up too much."

Levi's eye twitched. "You mean... he didn't want you to look like a man?"

Petra looked down, embarrassed. "I guess."

Levi scowled.

Sexist motherfucker.

"You do realize that's just a stupid myth," he grumbled as he straightened to cross his arms over his chest. His forearm muscles flexed at how stiff he held himself due to irritation. "Unless you're chugging down steroids, women don't 'bulk up' too much. You girls naturally have lower testosterone than guys, so that kind of mass gain is far less likely. You don't get too huge. If anything, lifting heavier is gonna make you stronger and tighter."

Petra stayed quiet, but awe flashed plainly across her face. Maybe she was surprised he was talking this much. Levi had always been a 'do more, say less' guy. But when the bullshit came from misogynistic thinking like that, it was really hard to keep quiet.

"If your ex actually told you that, then he's one insecure bastard. You're better off." He huffed, still irritated. "How much does he even weigh?"

She blinked at the abrupt, almost random question. "Uh… not sure. Maybe around 90 kilos? He's 5'9."

Tall motherfucker.

"What's his deadlift PR so far?"

"I think around 110."

Levi rolled his eyes. "Tch. Rookie numbers for that weight class. You could probably surpass that."

Her amber eyes lit up. "You really think so?"

"Yeah." He leaned back on the incline bench, breathing easier now. "I think you could."

"Does that mean you'll teach me?"

He paused for a long moment, eyes tracking her from head to toe.

Then he exhaled. "No."

"No?" Petra's face fell. "But I thought–"

"I'm not teaching you now," Levi cut in, sitting up, arms still crossed. "You trained legs last time you were here. After that RDL correction, your hamstrings are probably still sore as fuck."

He knew he was right when Petra immediately dropped a hand to her thigh, sliding it down from her quad to the back of her knee. Her shorts had ridden up from walking and training earlier, exposing pale skin scattered with freckles.

Levi glanced away immediately. He shouldn't stare.

"You're doing upper-push tonight, right?" he asked, softer.

She blinked twice. "Yeah."

He grabbed his belt from the head of the incline bench and hooked it over his forearm. "I can start you with bench press, if you're up for it."

Petra's smile came back wider than before. "I am."

Levi glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Set up at the rack. You know how?"

She nodded, still wearing that eager grin. Then she turned immediately, picked up the 5s she'd used, and returned them to their exact slots in the dumbbell line.

By the time she started wheeling a bench toward the squat-rack area, Levi was already heading back to the office, still intent on killing the silence with music. With mild amusement, he noticed she'd chosen the same rack he used the other day.

Now that he thought about it, no wonder she'd been staring so intently while he benched that night. She'd been interested – at least in what he was doing.

Levi dropped his belt and straps on the desk as soon as he stepped into the office, turned to the computer, and switched on a different playlist this time. More classic rock. A second later, the opening guitar of "Kryptonite" by 3 Doors Down spilled through the speakers.

[I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon,

After all, I knew it had to be something to do with you.]

Petra was a lot stronger than she looked.

At first glance, people wouldn't assume it. She was short, slender, and sometimes shy. But Levi learned a long time ago to never judge a book by its cover, especially when it came to strength.

He himself had been a victim of wrong first impressions. When he joined his first powerlifting meet, he was underestimated by many of his competitors. Even after years of training, Levi was built leaner than bulky, muscles showing only when he flexed – a physique made more for function than aesthetic. So the sight of him looking so lithe among a lineup of huge men was almost funny. But no one expected a five-foot-three, quiet, grumpy asshole like him to outlift the entire weight class.

He always credited part of that to judo. His uncle had been a brutal coach and started training him practically the moment he could stand upright. Since the old bastard lived with him and his mother until he was thirteen, Levi got dragged into training well beyond normal after-school hours. He'd mellowed out of the sport eventually, but the years of repetition had built endurance and sharpened his coordination. By the time he entered powerlifting, he learned fast.

He already knew Petra had enough gym experience to handle herself, but when she benched an impressive 30 kg as her top working set on that first night, he couldn't help asking if she'd been sporty growing up.

"I was a gymnast since elementary school," she'd said with a shrug from the flat bench, still a little winded after that last heavy set. "Being on our local varsity helped me get through high school and college on scholarship."

"Rhythmic or acrobatic?" he'd asked when he handed her a water bottle.

She'd taken a swing from the tumbler before she responded. "A bit of both, but mostly acrobatics. I only stopped after graduation, when I moved here from Calaneth for my first job." Then she turned to him with that bright grin. "I can still do handstands and flips, though. I can even do pull-ups. Wanna see?"

Levi didn't let her. The gym floor wasn't exactly padded for failed handstands. But she did knock out a few clean bodyweight pull-ups that night.

Hidden in the very fibers of her muscles was a foundation of strength that was just begging to show its potential – if only some fucking incel hadn't spent years feeding her bullshit about how women were "supposed" to look. Levi kept wondering how long Petra had lived under that projection of insecurity. It wasn't hard to see that it had a lasting effect on her. Petra was incredibly doubtful of the capabilities of her own body. That first bench session was basically Levi repeating, over and over, that the bar wasn't going to "fall on her face" because her "arms were too skinny."

Because they weren't.

She's lean, with just enough body fat in all the right places where women naturally should carry more body fat. But Levi could see how toned her arms and back were when she trained in just a sports bra – not that he was paying attention.

Hell, she's got a flat stomach and strong legs with good structure.

Again – not that he was paying attention.

The insecurity lingered into the following weeks. Not all the time, but it surfaced whenever the load climbed, and her muscles began to show the kind of visible changes that came with training under real intensity for the first time. Early on, when he started teaching her proper back squats and told her to drive through her quads, she'd asked in a small voice if it would make her "thighs look too wide" when she was "already so short." It was followed by that same hesitant look she'd wear in which Levi has since associated with her thinking of her stupid ex again.

That one annoyed him. Mostly because he wasn't exactly gifted in the height department either.

So he told her, equal parts to shut down the whining and get the point through, "If your thighs get bigger, they'll be strong enough to squat more than half the idiots in this gym. And being short just means less distance to move the bar. Now quit overthinking and squat."

And that made her hide a smile behind her hair.

She also managed to hit a PR of 65 kg immediately after that. For someone only a month into proper powerlifting training, that was impressive.

More impressive, though, were Petra's deadlifts.

She took to it fast – faster than bench and squat. In the first week he started teaching her, she pulled a solid 55 kg. By the end of month one, she was at 65. Tonight, already three months in, she hit 77.5 kg without even using a belt. Years of acrobatics had given her a brutally strong core and excellent leg control, and it showed every time she set up over a bar. Her squat was already at 70 kg, while her bench was at 40.

Although she did try for an ambitious 80 on her deadlift, too. The plates came maybe two inches off the platform before her hamstrings and grip both gave out, and the bar dropped back to the mat with a hard metallic rattle.

She pouted the entire way to breakfast – or whatever the hell you call a meal at three in the morning.

"Your legs were already shaking on that PR, Petra," he mutters flatly, stabbing his fork into a fat piece of chicken. "Your muscles were fatigued. Let them recover, and you'll probably hit 80 next week."

They were on the floor beside the deadlift platforms, seated cross-legged on yoga mats across from each other with their backs leaning against the side of a bench, eating grilled chicken with quinoa salad and avocado from bowls Petra had packed herself. At this point, aside from the first thing he ate after waking up, Petra had basically been feeding him for the last three months.

That first night, she'd asked how much she owed him for teaching her bench and for saying yes to the whole powerlifting thing. But Levi refused to let her pay a cent except for her regular monthly gym fee. Paid coaching meant creating a full program, and he already had enough of that headache with his cousin's brat of a boyfriend. He was only teaching her the big three: bench, squat, deadlift. She was already logging her progress on her own anyway. He can leave the rest of her block to her, since she clearly knew enough to build her own training around it. And if she decided powerlifting wasn't for her after all, at least she wouldn't have wasted money on something she didn't keep.

She'd been very adamant that she'd pay him, but he was equally as stubborn in trying to convince her that he didn't need her money. He just wanted to see her dedication to it.

Eventually, she relented.

Or so he thought.

Before she'd left that night, she handed him another plastic container. Not cookies this time, but a full fucking meal: lime-marinated pork, roasted cauliflower, mashed potatoes. It was apparently her breakfast, and when he tried to return it, she said that it was fine since she had more at home owing to her meal prep business.

It was technically a transaction in trade – Petra's high-protein meals in exchange for Levi's coaching and powerlifting experience.

He still felt vaguely awkward every time she handed him warm food before leaving, or when she'd stop by on her rest days just to make sure he had something to eat during shift. But after a while, he accepted she wasn't stopping.

And honestly, her cooking beat the bland shit he usually made for himself.

There was variety in his meals now, and they were way more nutritionally balanced than anything he'd bothered to plan. The results were apparently showing too. Hange noticed first. When he ran into them in the office before shift a few hours ago, they squinted at him and asked if he'd started taking supplements, because his pecs and shoulders looked like they were "about to burst through the seams of his cunty little shirt."

His shirt was fucking fine. It was just a slim dri-fit shirt he'd brought recently.

Levi's reverie broke at Petra's dramatic sigh as she scraped up the last slices of avocado. Her bowl was nearly clean.

"I was stuck in the seventies for a whole month, Coach," she said, still pouting. "If this keeps up, I won't hit a hundred kilos by next month."

Levi frowned at the title. "Stop calling me that. I'm not your coach." He leaned forward and dropped the biggest piece of grilled chicken from his fork into her bowl. "Eat this. You need it more than me if you're this dead set on hitting triple digits that fast."

Petra blinked down at the chicken, then up at him. "You really think I'm rushing?"

"Yeah." He stabs at the last few bites of his quinoa, tone flat. "Chasing numbers too fast is stupid. If you miss the target, you get disappointed. If you get too excited, you start ego lifting. Then you tweak something on your back and spend weeks whining while you recover."

She went quiet.

Levi kept going, keeping his head down to view the contents of his bowl. "You're progressing fine. Better than fine. You pulled more than your body weight in three months. Most people I've known can't do that without wrecking their form." Barely lifting his head, her glanced at her, his steel-blue eye peeking beneath his dark fringe. "Plateaus are normal. Everyone hits them. Just keep your routine consistent, recover properly, and the numbers are gonna move again. Keep at it long enough and, yeah, you'll be pulling triple your bodyweight one day."

Petra's pout softened into something smaller, more thoughtful. She took a bite of the chicken he gave her and chewed slowly.

"...Thanks," she said after a moment. "I really needed to hear that."

"I'm just telling you the truth. Nothing more." He points his fork at her. "And you should still be proud of what you pulled tonight."

Her smile came back, small but sweet. "Okay. I am."

They finished eating in companionable quiet, the low hum of the gym and distant music filling the gaps. Petra had mentioned one time that she wasn't really into metal before, but the ones in his playlists weren't so bad. They managed to find a common ground in music tastes, as she was fond of indie rock and alternative R&B. Joji was the artist of choice for them tonight.

Levi stood first and took her empty bowl from her hands. "I'll wash this. Start unracking your plates and return them. I'm mopping the platform again."

Petra laughed under her breath. "You're such a clean freak."

"It's your fault," he shot back. "You sweat like a broken faucet."

She stared at him, mouth opening in an expression that was both aghast and amused. "That's not true! I barely sweat. Besides, you used this platform too. You got your sweat mixed here with mine."

"Still too much," he muttered.

He turned to walk off, bowls stacked in one hand.

Then Petra suddenly called out.

"Levi. Look here."

He glanced back over his shoulder.

Petra was facing the mirror by the deadlift platform, phone raised in one hand. She snapped a mirror selfie just as he looked back, catching both of them in the reflection: her in front with the loaded bar in front of her shins, and him glancing back behind her with that unimpressed expression he always wore.

Then she turned around, grinning, and waved the screen at him. "Is it okay if I post this on Instagram later?"

Levi knew she filmed parts of her training sometimes, and he'd caught her taking mirror shots of herself more than once. He didn't know if she posts her progress like some people. He doesn't even know what her account is. But if she was going to post it, this was probably the first one with him in frame.

He gave the photo a brief glance, then shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

Petra's smile widened.

"Great! What's your account handle, by the way, Coach?"

He rolled his eyes. "Stop calling me that." He muttered under his breath, then he shook his head lightly. "It's just Levi."

Petra chuckled at that, then she dropped her phone back onto the bench and started clearing the plates from the bar. Levi headed to the office sink with the bowls, and a minute later, the sounds of metal clinking into racks and running water blended into the same rhythm they'd somehow settled into together, whilst the smooth, atmospheric beat of "Afterthought" played low from the speakers.

[Please stand with me after dark

I'll stay in the limelight

Like a beautiful afterthought]

Petra left before 4:30 AM.

When morning came bright and his shift ended, Levi returned to his flat. He pulled his shirt off in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and only then realized Hange might've been right. The damn thing really was too tight across his chest and shoulders. It hadn't been like that when he bought it last month.

He was about to strip the rest of his clothes, already craving a shower to wash off the night's sweat, when his phone let out a short, high-pitched chime. He glanced at it on his bed. The screen was lit.

1 Instagram notification.

He picked it up and tapped it open. The app he barely touched filled the screen.

petraaa_ral started following you.

How the hell did she find his account?

Then again, he had said he was "just Levi."

And his handle was, literally, @justlevi.

He huffed something that almost sounded like a laugh.

He tapped Follow.

Then he tossed the phone back onto the sheets and headed for the bathroom.

When Levi came out several minutes later, towel slung low on his hips, black hair still damp, and skin finally cooled, his phone pinged again with the same sharp tone.

1 Instagram notification: petraaa_ral tagged you in a post.

He opened it and found the same mirror photo Petra had taken earlier. Raw, unedited.

She was in front, flushed and smiling proudly, wearing a lavender halter-type sports bra and purple shorts that accentuated the lines of her quads. He was in the back, turned halfway over his shoulder like he'd been caught by accident. Tight ass-shirt and shorts, all black.

Beneath it, the caption read:

Small steps, big win: 77.5 kg PR on deadlift today. (Thanks, @justlevi)

He dropped onto the edge of his bed and stared at the photo for a long moment.

Then he tapped into Petra's profile and scrolled through her feed.

It was mostly shots of her cooking, aesthetic close-ups of meal preps, random cats and dogs she greeted during walks, selfies with herself and a few female friends, most often with another redhead. Scattered among her posts were mirror selfies taken in the familiar background of his gym, though the light spilling from the narrow high windows told him those were daytime sessions.

He clicked on her last upload before tonight's post. Gym again, morning light, posted February tenth. After that, nothing for a while – until this one.

Levi noticed, with a quiet flicker of interest, that despite him being only in the background, this was the only photo on her feed where she was in frame with another man.

"You didn't tell me you took on another member for coaching," Erwin said when Levi came in before the night shift.

Levi was bent over, tying his laces. "What are you talking about?"

"Nanaba said she saw you on Instagram. You were in a photo with a friend of hers."

When Levi finally looked up, Erwin's phone was suddenly inches from his face. A chat with Nanaba was open, filled with screenshots. Erwin swiped through them one by one.

First was the mirror selfie Petra had tagged him in. The one from a little more than a month ago.

The second was another shot where Petra leaned against the upright bar in the squat rack, camera angled just enough to catch his reflection while he loaded another 5 kg plate onto the 70 kg she'd squatted two weeks back.

Third was a low-angle selfie with Petra on the floor, smiling and flashing a peace sign while he stood on the deadlift platform, setting his stance for 82.5 kg – her PR last week, a warm-up weight for him.

The last one – one Levi took a moment longer than necessary to look at – was a closer selfie of both of them on a bench, Petra leaning back just enough for her shoulder to touch his. Levi had turned his head toward her phone while she smiled into the camera, cheeks flushed. That one was from three days ago – the day she hit a 45 kg bench PR.

Under the screenshots sat Nanaba's message bubble:

is levi coaching petra??????

"I'm not her coach," Levi said nonchalantly, but a bit exasperated at having to repeat that line constantly. He leaned back in his chair and tested the fit of his shoes, tapping his heel against the floor. "She wanted to learn powerlifting. I'm just giving tips."

"Isn't that basically coaching?" Hange chimed in from the office sofa near the door.

"I said I would give her tips. I don't write her program. She's not paying me." At least, not in cash.

Hange hummed, staring at him inquisitively beneath their glasses, while they leaned back to rest their crossed ankles on the armrest, socked feet pointed straight at him.

Levi scowled. "Get your disgusting feet off the sofa. I can smell how filthy it is from here."

Hange didn't move. They just wiggled their toes inside the socks with a shit-eating grin.

Annoyed, Levi turned away and skimmed through his notes for Eren's program instead, one where he was actually paid to make. The kid was planning to enter a local powerlifting meet – the same annual competition Levi had won years ago, at least in his class. Eren had been itching to compete the second he turned legal age.

He was taller and heavier than Levi, meaning he'd compete two classes above him. And apparently, it's the same one Zeke Yeager had won silver the other year. It made Levi wonder if the brat had signed up just to attempt at beating the record of his older half-brother: that blond, bearded ape who trained at old Magath's dusty iron dungeon across town. Levi had met the hairy bastard a few times and disliked him instantly. So, whether or not that was Eren's real motive, Levi intended to help him win at least.

He had a decent shot at silver as well. Maybe gold if he pushed. The problem was, the idiot had been too busy dating Levi's cousin lately, and his usual four training days had dropped to three. If he wanted gold, Levi would have to crank up the intensity and force faster progressive overload. It doesn't help that Eren had been scrawny when he started at fifteen. At eighteen, he was stronger, bigger, better. But he still didn't have the endurance Mikasa – who was into calisthenics – had. Nor does he progress through plates as fast as Petra.

In any case, the meet was three months from now. He'd have time to put some sense into that idiot.

Levi glanced up again when he saw Erwin rise from his seat, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. He and Hange should have ended their shift an hour ago.

"You know I don't really care who you take on or don't. You're a co-owner, Levi. You're allowed to make that call." His mouth then tipped into an amused smile. "I was just curious why you suddenly took an interest in helping a regular when you usually leave members to sort themselves out."

Levi only grunted, eyes dropping back to his notes. He flipped a page, scanned the next block of Eren's percentages and rep ranges, then shrugged like the question wasn't worth answering.

Truth was, he'd been asking himself the same thing for weeks. It had been five months since Petra first asked him to teach her, and she'd long since gotten competent enough to train without him hovering over every set. He knew that for a fact. On the few nights he handed his shift to another coach so he could visit his mother across town, Petra still came in and trained exactly as scheduled. She lifted, logged her weights, and progressed consistently. He had stopped fixing her form by month two, and only ever helped her spot when she was attempting a new PR, or if she admitted to him that her body was more tired than usual and might need a little help. He only kept training with her simply because he was already there in the gym by necessity. Their routine split had aligned so much that it always ends up that both were training for the same thing. By all logic, he could've stepped back the second she found her rhythm.

But maybe he hadn't because of what he learned in pieces over those months – how her ex had spent the last year of their relationship, maybe longer, tearing her down with constant comments about her body until her self-esteem was barely hanging by a thread. Then cheated on her a day before Valentine's. In a fairly recent conversation with her while having their post-workout meals, she'd told Levi the reason she'd moved her workouts from late mornings to nights… Apparently, the bastard was also a regular at their gym, but trained during the day. That still pissed Levi off more than he liked to admit. That the insecure, cheating asshole walked the same floor, breathed the same air, touched the same bars. He'd been wiping the entire gym equipment harder ever since.

Half the time, Levi wanted to cancel the fucker's membership and ban him from ever setting foot on his turf again. But personal drama wasn't grounds for that, and Erwin and Hange would probably skin him alive if he tried. Whatever. In the end, it stopped mattering. Watching Petra get stronger under the bar, in both body and spirit, was enough. If he had to name the exact moment she started to truly build her confidence back, it was probably the day she posted that first mirror selfie after three months of silence. Her chin lifted, impressive PR in the caption, like she was finally taking herself back.

The other reason, though, was harder to face.

Because denying it was getting impossible: he was starting to see Petra as more than just another regular. More than just a friend. It wasn't hard to see that Petra was, well… pretty. It was one word that had been lingering in his mind even back on the night he first met her.

Levi wasn't exactly the type of guy who was easily into anyone based on physical aspects alone. As someone who literally lives and works in a gym, he'd been surrounded by men and women half-dressed constantly, many with firm bodies sometimes sculpted like Roman gods and goddesses. He was so used to it already that maybe it had desensitized him from seeing anyone as physically attractive.

But somehow, he finds Petra pretty.

Scratch that.

Petra was hot.

And as each week progressed, as the number on the weight she pulled and pushed climbed higher, her body was growing hotter.

She was already well-toned to begin with, but the longer she trained, the more her old gymnast foundation started to sharpen into something stronger. Denser. Her shoulders rounded, her back carried more definition down her lats and spine, her arms were lithe when at rest but then the shadows of her biceps and triceps would appear when she flexed them under the light. Her legs grew firmer from hip to quad, and her glutes rounded up, perked, and gave her that graceful curve on her back when he'd take a glimpse of her profile. But even as the muscle came in, she kept that fluid, almost effortless grace in how she moved between sets.

Her figure tightened and filled in all the right places like her body was finally showing what it had always been capable of. Even her posture improved. Better stacking through her ribs and pelvis. Core switched on immediately when needed. Chest naturally lifted along with her confidence.

Her lower back had gotten stronger from how cleanly she hinged and how stable she stayed under load. Yet there was one session not so long ago where she almost lost it. When she had pushed eighty on squat, her brace had started faltering halfway up the rep.

It was a good thing he spotted her back then. The moment he saw her tip forward, and her back began to strain, He was behind her in an instant, guiding the bar safely back into the hooks before she could tweak her lower back. He cut the set right there, then told her flat-out it was time to get a weightlifting belt.

Then he'd pulled her aside and taught her how to hold a brace longer with external pressure against her abdominals. He couldn't lend her his own belt; it was already screwed and adjusted to fit his torso, which was wider than Petra's waist, and re-adjusting it would've been a waste of time.

So instead, he had her stand in front of him and, after asking for consent, placed his palms lightly at the sides of her waist, thumbs angled forward, fingers spread just above her hips where a belt would've sat, and then he taught her how to sustain the brace.

"Take a deep breath. Low. Into your belly and your sides, not your chest," he'd told her.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, but her shoulders rose with it.

Levi clicked his tongue at that. "No. That's a panic breath. Fill your belly and push it into my hands." He pressed his fingers a little firmer around her waist… and Petra had let out a tiny squeaky laugh.

She was fucking ticklish.

And Levi thanked whatever god watched over him that night that her eyes were still closed, because she was close enough that he could see the shimmer of her tinted lip gloss, and he swore his face had gone hot.

"Don't laugh, brat," he grumbled, which only made her giggle again. But she eventually followed his cues, and he had her repeat it over and over until her breathing steadied. Until the warmth of her bare waist matched the heat in his palms.

She bought a belt the very next day from the shop he recommended. Same brand as his, mint green to match his forest green.

And he was glad that she did, because the memory of her face being inches away from his, eyes softly shut, lips parted on a breath while his hands held her waist... it was starting to bother him while he lay alone on his bed.

She's pretty. She's hot. She's strong and soft and stubborn and sincere, and she could cook a mean steak. And she is even more.

And Levi is having a hard time fully admitting to himself that he really, really, likes her.

"–Do you like her?"

He looks up suddenly, attention aimed at Hange whose face was now facing him instead of their smelly socked feet. They had their chin resting on the ball of their hand while their elbow rested on the arm of the sofa. Their legs swung behind her like a child. Meanwhile, Erwin had already crossed the room, standing next to the sofa, body halfway towards the door, yet paused to look at him. Levi must have been too lost in his head for so long to fail to notice them move.

There was a look on their faces that was amused and curious at the same time as they patiently waited for his response.

His jaw tightened, and he gave them both a hard look. But he did not – could not – say a single word.

"Oh." Hange's grin widened like a Cheshire cat. "You like her."

Levi clicked his tongue.

"I don't."

"You look like you do," Erwin teased.

"I don't," Levi said, more firmly, but the bite on his words was missing a notch. "We're friends, that's all." He turned his head away from them and eyed the turf through the glass wall of the office as the doors opened and a familiar brunette brat wearing a familiar sweat-stained hoodie sauntered in.

"You should ask her out, Levi." Hange snickered.

"No. I will not."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said through gritted teeth. "I teach her how to bench-squat-press. And she's a member of a gym I co-own."

"So?" Erwin raised a brow at him. "You yourself said you're not her coach."

"I'm not."

"And she doesn't pay you directly."

"She doesn't."

"Soooooo…" Hange dragged the word on with a playful lilt. "That means… there's no active professional arrangement."

Erwin smirked. "And if there's no money changing hands–"

"–then there's no ethical boundary crossed." Hange finishes enthusiastically.

Levi grumbled under his breath and shot up from his seat. He began crossing the office, shoving himself lightly against the side of Erwin's tall frame, and headed straight for the door with heavy steps.

He shoved the door open so he could head over to where Eren was waiting at the turf. It was still 8:45 PM. But for once, he was fucking glad the brat arrived earlier than his scheduled session.

"Fuck you both," he muttered harshly without looking at them.

Erwin: "Sure it's just us?"

Hange: "Bet you wanna fuck her more."

He turned quick and threw them all a murderous look, but the way they both laughed must have been because the tips of his ears had turned a bright red.

"What the actual fuck, Four-eyes."

He was so glad Petra was having a rest day tonight.

When Levi started teaching Petra, he asked if she had specific PR goals in mind. He made it clear those numbers weren't hard limits. She wasn't supposed to stop progressing the moment she hit them, unless she wanted to. But he'd learned that setting target PRs helped keep people consistent, gave them something concrete to chase, and made training exciting while they built a real foundation. Once they reached that step, they could learn to pace better. Give themselves more time, more grace, and focus on maintaining strength that would last for years.

He'd even told her his own competition PRs had been accidental – every ten kilos above what he'd actually trained for. He retired from powerlifting after that because, for him, those numbers were already beyond what he'd once imagined possible. He'd reached them. He could dial things down and still know he could work his way back up if he wanted.

Well, except for the 310 kg deadlift.

When Petra asked why he wouldn't go for that number again, he simply said that if he could pull it, he'd pull it, and if he couldn't, he couldn't. Doing it once was enough. No point blowing his back over a number. Besides, who the hell was he trying to impress?

"I dunno," Petra had said with a shrug. "You always tell me not to do this for other people or to prove a point. That I should do it for 'me.'" She tilted her head, smiling softly. "So… don't you want to impress yourself again?"

That shut him up for a long moment. Then he shrugged it off and asked again for her goal PRs.

For squat, bench, and deadlift, she settled on 95 kg, 65 kg, and 110 kg, respectively. Hopefully, before the year ended.

Originally, she wanted 100 for deadlift.

Levi told her to add the extra ten.

"That's roughly around your stupid ex's PR, right? For his size, that number's just a speck. For someone your size, pulling twice your body weight is a huge deal. Once you can take that heavy, another five kilos will feel like lightweight."

"You said I shouldn't be trying to prove a point," she replied, laughter tucked in her voice.

"I know, but that one's more for me than for you," he'd told her, then he grumbled under his breath, yet still loud enough for her to hear. "Fucker thought he could keep you looking like a weak-ass kitten. Tough luck. When I'm done with you, you'll look like a damn panther instead."

He hadn't meant to sound crass. Then again, he was always crass. Still, maybe he should've chosen his words better. Petra had blushed so hard her face went nearly as red as her hair.

But she smiled anyway, and her laughter rang across the gym.

Now, just eight months later, Petra was about to attempt that first goal PR.

In deadlift – her favorite.

Erwin had a phone stand that he always left in the office since Bushy-brows liked to film himself giving body-building tips for online viewers who were suckers for his looks. Levi had taken it from his locker after Petra had expressed that she'd wanted to record the attempt. And now, Levi was crouched a couple of paces from the deadlift zone, setting up her phone on the stand and making sure it was angled just right to capture every detail: the bar and the stack of plates on each end, her stance, her face, which was probably the most serious he'd ever seen on her. Amber eyes focused on her reflection in front of her. Her breathing controlled. Her copper hair had lengthened within the months he had known her, and she tied it up in a short ponytail, though her fringes were still too short and were framing her face.

Once Levi deemed the angle and lighting were suitable, he hit record.

Then he straightened and set his place two feet behind Petra. There really wasn't a practical way to spot someone doing a deadlift. The most he could do was tell her to drop the bar once he'd notice her form failing before she'd hurt her back. And if she does pull it successfully, the sudden drop of blood pressure can make her pass out. Levi had seen it happen many times. So he'd stay behind her and catch her in case she fell backward.

"It's on," he said as he nodded at her through the mirror.

She inhales deep, not to brace, but to simply breathe. Then she exhales it in a long stream.

She reached for the mint belt at her waist and wrapped it around, but she didn't cinch it yet. The matching mint straps were already looped around her wrists, hanging loose against her palms like she was gearing up for battle.

Levi watched her through the mirror and kept his instructions short, clipped, and rapid.

"Keep the bar close."

She nodded.

"Pull the slack out before you break it off the floor."

Another nod.

"Lats tight. Chest set. Don't rush the first inch."

Nod.

"Drive through your legs first, then hips through. No jerking."

Nod.

"And keep tension at lockout. Don't go soft at the top."

"Got it, Coach." That was the first time she spoke.

"I'm not your coach." Levi's said, just as serious. Then, after a beat, his voice dropped steadier. "This is your one-rep max. Whenever you're ready."

He'd turned off the speakers earlier, per her request. No music. No beat to chase. Just silence and breath.

For what felt like almost a full minute, Petra stood there staring at her reflection, hands hanging at her sides, jaw set. Then she moved.

She pulled the belt tighter in one smooth tug and locked it. Checked it once with her fingers. Set her feet under the bar in a conventional stance – legs hip-width apart, toes slightly out, laces under the knurl line. She rolled her shoulders back once, inhaled deep into her belly, then braced the way he taught her: a full, hard 360 expansion against the belt.

No shoulder rise. No panic breath.

Good.

She hinged down, reached for the bar, and wrapped it fast, tightening each with quick turns of her wrists to make sure the steel rod and her hands moved as one. She set her back, packed her lats, drew in another breath, then glanced up through her fringe at the mirror.

Then she pulled.

The bar broke from the floor slowly, but clean. It scraped up her shins, plates humming under strain. By the time it climbed toward knee height, her legs had started to tremble.

Levi's voice cut through the silence, louder than usual.

"Keep it up. Don't stop."

The bar drifted another inch.

"Stay with it."

Her jaw clenched; her whole frame shook.

"Up, Petra. Up."

It passed her knees. She started hinging through, shaky, fighting for every centimeter. The bar slowed again, almost stalling mid-thigh.

Levi barked sharper now, volume rising with the effort on her face.

"Keep it moving. Don't you fucking quit, Pet."

Her elbows stayed straight. Back stayed set. The bar crept up.

"Come on. Up. Up."

She let out a strained sound through gritted teeth and forced her hips forward. The bar climbed the last brutal inch–

–and she locked out.

Fully upright. Shoulders back. Knees set. Bar motionless in her hands, tension held exactly like he told her.

He counted it in his head.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Down, baby," Levi ordered.

She controlled the descent as long as she could before gravity took the last part. The plates hit with a hard metallic rattle that shook the platform.

For a second, she stayed folded over the bar, hands still strapped in, breathing as she'd run through fire. Then she unwound from it, stood, found her balance, and unclasped her belt with one quick flick, letting it drop to the mat.

When she turned to him, the look on her face was the brightest he'd ever seen.

110 kg – new PR.

Levi felt something in his chest loosen.

A small smile broke despite himself.

"You fucking did it," he said.

Before he could blink, she launched at him.

Levi had caught heavier things in worse positions, but the speed still surprised him enough to force a step back. He recovered instantly, braced, and spun her once from momentum before setting her feet steady on the floor while his arms locked around her waist.

She was laughing and half-squealing into the side of his neck, words tumbling out in breathless bursts.

"Oh my God. I did it. I did it. Oh my God."

Levi stood there holding her, equal parts proud and awkward, heart still beating hard from watching that pull. Her joy came off her in waves. Hot, bright, and impossible to miss.

Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him, cheeks flushed, eyes shining.

"I did it," she said again, almost breathless, grinning like she still couldn't believe it.

His voice came quieter, the ghost of that smile still there. "Yeah. You did." Then, even softer: "And I'm damn proud of you."

Color deepened across her face. The grin turned shy at the corners. She glanced down, suddenly aware of how close they were, and gave a tiny, awkward laugh before trying to step back.

Levi didn't let go.

His arms around her waist neither loosened nor tightened. Just enough to keep her there for a second longer.

That made her look up at him slowly.

His expression had gone still, but not hard. The sharpness in his gray-blue eyes had softened as they held hers.

He could've released her then. Should've, probably.

But he didn't want to.

They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, just breathing, looking. He felt the tension in her shoulders gradually ease beneath his hands. She didn't pull away. If anything, she leaned a fraction closer.

Levi dipped his head, giving her every chance to stop him.

She didn't.

So he angled in and kissed her.

Just one firm, quiet press of lips that made the whole silent gym seem to hold its breath with them.

He could finally taste the fruity gloss on her lips.

And when she kissed him back, his hands slid across the bare skin of her back, fingertips catching the thin sheen of sweat and the firm muscle beneath, still warm from the exertion in that lift. One hand climbed higher, up the slope of her neck, then settled at her jaw to tilt her just right so he could deepen it, slipping his tongue in between the silent gasp she made when his fingers combed through the side of her head.

Petra's hands stayed planted on his chest, fingers curling into the stretch of his black shirt. He could feel the tremor in them. Could feel his own pulse hammering under her palms.

He'd never felt his heart kick this hard before.

Not even with the heaviest bar in his hands.

They broke for air eventually, though their foreheads hovered close, noses brushing, breaths mixing while they stared at each other in the quiet.

Levi opened his mouth, about to say something… when suddenly, the front door of the gym clicked open, and a draft of cool night air slipped in.

He let her go fast. Took two sharp steps back on instinct, quick enough that Petra rocked on her heels for a second before catching herself.

Levi stood stiff, but his eyes flicked to the mirror and found the newcomer's reflection: the tall, freckle-faced, brown-haired teenager who usually did runner drills. He glanced at the digital clock.

4:38 AM.

That kid normally came in before midnight. But he remembered hearing about an early morning marathon next week. It was likely that a runner like her was joining and probably shifting her schedule to acclimate.

Past four-thirty was late for Petra, too. She normally left at four if she still wanted sleep before work.

The teen passed by with barely a glance at them and headed straight for the treadmill line, headphones already on.

Levi looked back at Petra.

Her head was lowered, flushed high on her cheeks, and mostly hidden behind loosened copper strands. Strands his fingers had just run through.

His jaw tightened once. Then his gaze drifted to the tripod near the platform.

Her phone was still there. Still recording.

Wordlessly, he moved first. Crossed the platform, crouched, and tapped the screen to stop the video. The red dot disappeared. He slipped the phone off the stand and walked back until he stood in front of her.

He held it out.

She kept her eyes down for a beat before taking it with both hands.

"It's past four-thirty. You've got work later." He tipped his chin toward the bar. "You can go ahead. I'll handle the rerack."

She nodded.

"...Okay," she whispered.

A small pause passed. He watched her thumb hover over the phone screen without actually unlocking it.

Then he asked, quieter still, meant only for her, "It's technically Friday now. You're taking a two-night rest, right?"

She nodded again.

"So you won't be here."

Another nod. It was slow and hesitant.

Levi paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"There's a local powerlifting meet on Saturday," he said, keeping his voice low, almost a whisper. "One of the brats I coach is competing for the first time." He glanced away, then back. "You wanna come with me?"

That made her look up immediately.

Her amber eyes were wide.

"…What?"

He frowned, already irritated at himself. Maybe he was too quiet. "I said there's a meet on Sat–"

"I heard what you said," she cut in softly, still blinking at him. "I just… wanted to check if... You were asking me out on a date."

Levi frowned awkwardly. "I don't know if it counts as that. I have to be there so that idiot doesn't do something stupid and get disqualified."

The second it left his mouth, he knew it sounded dumb as hell.

But when he looked back at her, Petra was still flushed and shy, but there was this hopeful eagerness in her face he hadn't seen before. Not this openly.

Levi swallowed once.

Then, slowly: "Do you want it to be a date?"

Her smile started small, then widened. Almost as wide as when she realized that she just reached her goal PR for deadlift.

She said yes.

Working night shifts for years, Levi always tried to be asleep by 1 PM and get at least four hours in. Five, if he was exhausted enough. His sleep schedule used to be worse than this, but lately he'd been catching up on rest, either because he'd been training harder than usual or because he'd been eating better than he had in years.

He shut the thick blackout curtains against the blaring afternoon sun, getting ready to sleep a little later than usual. Like Petra, he was taking the next shift off so he could wake early for the meet. Although Eren's weight class wouldn't start until the afternoon, he'd told Petra to meet him at a café near the venue at 10 AM.

So, essentially, he had to wake up early for a date.

Levi wasn't a stranger to dating, though it happened rarely. He never cared much for the whole scene and had long been content with a habitual, lonely life, maybe even dying a bachelor. That had always been fine with him. At the very least, he wouldn't leave this world a virgin.

But this… this felt different.

Petra Ral was different.

Levi lay there for a moment, staring into the dark ceiling, replaying what happened that early morning.

Petra's focus. Her determination. Her strength. Her beauty. Her pure, blinding joy.

Her touch.

Her kiss.

Her body.

Her.

Just as he closed his eyes, his phone chimed with that short bell notification. The screen lit up on his bedside table, flooding the pitch-black room with harsh light.

He rolled to grab it, then flicked on the lamp so his eyes didn't have to fight a single bright source in the dark.

1 Instagram notification: petraaa_ral mentioned you in their story.

He tapped it open.

It was the video of her successful deadlift attempt earlier. Just one minute long.

He knew the recording had run longer, but Petra had trimmed it. It featured just her setup, her brace, the slow grind of the pull, and the controlled descent. It caught the exact moment it registered on her face that she'd hit her goal PR, and the way she turned toward him right after.

Then it cut. Right before she jumped into his arms.

She'd muted the original audio too, layering it with "Feel Invincible" by Skillet – one of the tracks he looped way too often on the gym speakers.

He smirked. Proud as fuck.

Before he could close the app, another notification popped up. This time, a direct message from Petra.

But when he checked, it was the same video…

No.

It's the actual recording.

No filters. No cuts. Audio original.

He watched it start to finish with the volume up. He heard himself barking cues at her to keep pulling, heard the strain in her voice as she forced the hip drive, and then, after three breathless seconds at lockout, he heard himself say something he never thought would come out of his mouth:

"Down, baby."

Then he watched her drop the weight, gasp loudly, turn, and launch at him.

He watched himself catch her, spin her, hold her, and, after those few silent seconds, kiss her.

And he kissed her harder, his hands roaming her back.

Levi swallowed.

Fuck.

He watched it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

It's been a while since Petra had been kissed.

Even when she was still with Franz, they had barely touched each other in the last two months of their relationship. They shared a bed, lived under the same roof, and moved around each other like two separate entities forced into the same space, breathing the same air. Petra hadn't even realized how long she had tolerated the stench of him and everything toxic that came with him. Maybe she clung to it for the sake of their years together, for the genuinely happier times that only really existed during the honeymoon phase. Now, with eight months of distance to look back on it, she could admit that phase had probably lasted just the first year. Everything after that was mostly blissful ignorance.

Her own fault, really. She had ignored the signs her friends had been pointing out for so long. She had been stupid enough to keep pushing, keep justifying, keep hoping it would "go back to how it was," until it finally took finding another woman asleep on her side of the bed to make her end it.

She had left that stifling place since then, quickly packing everything she had of value and moving to stay in her best friend's cramped apartment. It was hard to find a new place on such short notice, but Nifa didn't mind. Letting her stay for as long as she wanted, or at least until she could get herself back on her feet. Nifa had no qualms about it, so long as it meant she'd never return to the toxicity of a man who treated her more like a convenient cook than a partner. A guy who ate her food and never once complimented it. Never appreciated her. Never really saw her for what she liked, what she wanted, who she was. It only ever mattered what he liked. And he liked her enough to fuck. Liked her enough to parade around and impress his friends. Liked her enough to keep her looking like something he found presentable – a short, quiet, fragile, eye-candy beside a tall, muscular man.

"He's an arrogant son of a bitch," Levi had grumbled during one of their late-night sessions back in June. They'd known each other four months by then, and he'd heard enough scattered stories about her ex-boyfriend that, on the eve of what should've been her fourth anniversary with him, Petra had finally told Levi the whole thing.

He was seated on a flat bench still set for bench presses, forearms resting over his knees, a towel hanging around his neck, while Petra sat cross-legged on a mat with a protein shake in hand. His face had gone darker the longer she talked.

"Cheating's already trash," he said flatly. "But cheating on you in your own place? On your bed? He's probably done it far more often than you thought." His lip curled in disgust. "That's not just a bastard. That's a spineless little cunt."

Petra had let out a weak laugh at that, though she kept her eyes on the bottle in her hands. "Yeah. I know."

"And you–" He had pointed at her with the neck of his water bottle. "You put up with too much shit."

That stung, mostly because it was true. Petra's shoulders had slumped. "I know that too."

"I'm not saying it to be an asshole," he muttered, though he absolutely sounded like one. But that was just Levi being Levi. His bluntness was something Petra had grown accustomed to over the months and even looked forward to it every night. God knows she really needed someone like that.

"I'm saying it because you keep talking like this happened because you weren't enough. That's bullshit." He leaned back a little, eyeing her with that sharp, cutting stare of his. "You cooked for him. You made a home with him. You bent yourself into whatever shape he wanted, and he still acted like a dog. That's on him, not you."

Petra had gone quiet then, throat tight.

Levi looked away first, like he was annoyed by the weight of what he was saying. "Good that you left," he grumbled. "Should've done it sooner, but at least you did it. I'm glad you did."

Petra had stared at him.

Levi kept going with a scowl, but his eyes had softened. "You're smart, you work hard, you can cook better than any restaurant around here, and you've got more discipline than half the people in this gym. If he still chooses to act stupid, then he's just stupid. You deserve better than some idiot who can't recognize when he's already got someone worth keeping."

She remembered blinking hard, fighting against the burn of tears threatening to form in her eyes while also calming the rush of heat painting her cheeks a bright red.

There was always something in the way Levi talked about her that always knocked the breath out of her lungs.

Maybe it was because he never dressed his words up just to sound nice. Levi is incredibly honest, often much too honest for his own good. He said things like facts. Like he meant them. Like he looked at her and actually saw what was there.

Maybe it's just Petra. She had gone so long without hearing anything like that. Franz had complimented her, sure, but only in ways that made her feel ornamental. Always something that was enough for him. Pretty enough. Cute enough. Hot enough when it benefited him. Nothing about her effort or her grit. Nothing about the way she thought, or worked, or built things, or kept going even when she was exhausted.

With Levi, however, even his roughest comments somehow landed deeper. He'd call her stubborn, then say it like it was strength. He'd scold her form, then follow it with a curt, "Much better," in a tone that made her chest go warm. He'd point out what she did right with the same seriousness he used when correcting what she did wrong, and every single time, her heart did that stupid little skip in her chest.

At first, Petra had dismissed her attraction to him as timing. She'd noticed he was attractive from the beginning. It was hard not to, really. But he wasn't exactly the type she usually went for. He was too sharp around the edges, too foul-mouthed, too intimidating when he got quiet. She told herself it was just the aftermath of the breakup. She was just lonely and touch-starved and emotionally wrung out and projecting onto the first man who was kind to her.

But that night in June, something shifted, and Petra stopped pretending all of these feelings were just the result of a passing crush.

It doesn't help that somehow, after that, Levi's comments only got worse. Or better. Depending on how unfairly her body reacted to them.

From a simple "There you go" after she held her brace properly, to a flat "Good girl" back when she managed to shakily lockout a heavy bench press without his help – that one had trailed a shiver down her spine.

Even his occasional, absent-minded observations about her body in training – how her back looked more stable, how her shoulders were capping better, how her legs were "finally learning to do the work they're supposed to"...

It left her flustered for hours afterward.

It was ridiculous how he could say one short sentence in that rough, unimpressed voice, and Petra would feel like someone had struck a match under her skin.

She didn't quite have a name for why his praise, especially when he sounded like he didn't mean to praise her at all, hit her in such a way. She only knew that it did.

She didn't just like Levi Ackerman.

She liked his voice in her ear when she was under a heavy bar.

Liked the way he watched her closely enough to catch every mistake and every improvement.

Liked the way he remembered things she said in passing.

Liked the way he acted irritated whenever he cared too much.

And best of all, she liked how he made her feel strong, even on the days she felt anything but.

"…And I'm damn proud of you."

He'd said it in the softest voice that night, pride swelling beneath the words. Her phone's mic had still picked it up, even though he'd spoken low enough for only her to hear, mere seconds before he dipped his head and stole her breath with that kiss.

The ghost of his lips still felt warm against hers.

It lingered in a way that was impossible to ignore, the memory of that warmth spreading from her mouth to the rest of her body, settling low and hot and restless.

It was why, on Saturday morning, Petra lay on the couch that served as her temporary bed in Nifa's apartment. Fresh from the shower, still wrapped in a towel, short copper hair damp at her shoulders, watching that video again.

Nifa had already left for her 8 AM teaching shift. The apartment was quiet.

Quiet enough that Petra could hear her own breathing, soft at first, then heavier as she touched herself beneath the towel, already flushed from nothing more than the sound of his voice in the recording and the memory of his hands roaming over her sweat-warm skin.

She sank deeper into the cushions, the back of her neck pressing into the armrest. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, then closed slowly as a long sigh slipped past her lips. Her phone rested loosely in her other hand over the valley of her breasts, the recording looping again on the screen as Levi's rough voice came through the speakers.

"Keep it up. Don't stop."

And her fingers continued to move in faster circles against the swollen bud, spurred on smoothly by the sleekness of her digits as she coats them with her juices. A coil of fire surged low in her core, building itself into a boil. Petra lifted a leg, letting her ankle rest on the backrest, all to widen her legs so that she could make room for two fingers to slip in between her folds. Each pass of her hand made it harder to think past the sound of him. Levi's voice. Levi, in her head and under her skin all at once.

"Stay with it."

His order reaches her ears, the words vibrating from her phone and to her chest. Her fingers pushed deeper inside her, her hand moving in slow, back-and-forth thrusts. All to keep the coil turning inside her. Every nerve in her body tuned to his voice like he was right there beside her.

"Up, Petra. Up."

She curls her fingers up, the tips grazing her warm walls, at that patch of rough texture that made her gasp and see colors in the darkness of her eyelids. And the lingering heat flared brighter, stronger, threatening to explode. The pleasurable sensation was overwhelming, powered further by the sound of his voice.

"Keep it moving. Don't you fucking quit, Pet."

And she doesn't want to quit. She wants to reach further to that blissful state that she'd deprived herself of for so long. So her fingers kept their rhythm inside her, faster and faster, until she thought they weren't her fingers anymore. That the palm grinding against her clit was larger and stronger, the fingers inside her were longer, reaching deeper, the pads of the digits more calloused as they pressed against that sweet spot that made her vision spark and her pussy gush.

And when Petra opens her eyes, she is faced not with the ceiling of Nifa's living room, but with the hardened face of Levi Ackerman. Hovering over her, dark fringe damp with sweat, those sharp gray-blue eyes fixed and focused the way they got when he watched her under a bar.

Her pleasure climbs higher and higher, like when she had pulled that bar up her legs, the pressure building, the tension holding like a held breath at the lockout point.

Then she imagines him lowering down to her, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. His breath hot and escaping his parted lips in puffs as he commands her…

"Down, baby."

The release hit her all at once.

And she moans just as loud as the sound of the weighted plates meeting the floor, the tension exploding in a flash of white. Her breath escaped her like the shudder of a successful lift. The heat of it all was spreading out from her in waves that left her palm and the towel beneath her damp.

For a few seconds, she could only lie there and breathe.

She barely registered the vibration of her phone against her chest until she finally dragged in a fuller breath and realized it was ringing.

Petra jerked upright with a startled sound, the phone slipping from her hand. She fumbled through the couch cushions, still shaky, and grabbed it.

She looked at the screen.

Levi A. calling...

Her heart stuttered.

She sat there for a second, trying to steady her breathing before she answered, but when she finally swiped, her voice still came out a little shaky.

"H-Hello?"

There was a moment of just silence and the sound of sheets. Then Levi's voice came through, rough with sleep and mildly annoyed. "Hey."

Petra held her breath at the huskiness of his voice. She made sure he could hear the smile in her tone at least. "Good morning."

"Mornin'…You already ready?"

Petra awkwardly lowered her leg from the headrest of the coach and fixed her loosened towel around her bare chest. She swallowed. "No. Not yet. Just – getting ready."

"I just woke up. It's already nine." He exhaled like he was irritated with himself. "I'm not used to waking up at this hour, you know."

She smiled. "I know."

"I'll try to get ready quick. Might still end up a little late, though."

"It's okay. I'm not done preparing yet anyway."

Another pause. She could almost picture him on the other end, half-dressed, hair messy, scowling at the daylight.

"You do take your time with things," he muttered sleepily.

Petra's smile faltered for a split second, but then he added:

"Usually turns out good when you do."

And heat rushed straight back into her face.

On the line, she heard the rustle of fabric and what sounded like a drawer shutting. Then Levi spoke again, voice a little clearer now. "You want me to pick you up?"

Petra blinked. "What?"

"I don't know where you're staying," he said. "But if you want, send me the address."

Her chest tightened at the offer.

"That's okay," she said quickly. "We can just meet at the café."

"You sure?" She hears the soft padding of his feet across the floor. "You taking your motorcycle?"

"No." She tucks a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

"Why not?"

"I'll be wearing a dress," she admitted, then immediately wished she'd said it less shyly. "Doesn't seem like it would be a good thing to ride the bike with it. Besides, the place's not that far from where I am anyway. I could use the walk."

There was a small pause on his end. "...A dress, huh."

Petra stared at the floor; suddenly, she was very glad he couldn't see her face. "Is it too much for a first date? I can always change into some pants."

She hears him click his tongue. "That's a stupid question." Another pause, a bit longer this time. And then, briskly, he adds, "I'm sure you'll look great either way."

There he goes again.

Petra had to bite down on her lower lip to stop herself from making a noise at his words. The heat was still there between her thighs, and this guy was already making it boil again.

"Anyway," he said on the other end of the line. "I'll be at the café as soon as I can." And then his tone shifted to something quieter, breathier, "Don't rush on my account."

That did not help.

"I won't," she said, trying to sound normal.

"Good."

The line went quiet for a second, neither of them hanging up.

Then Petra said softly, "See you soon, Levi."

A pause. "Yeah. See you."

The call ended.

Petra lowered the phone and sat there for a long moment, staring at her reflection in the black screen, cheeks flushed and pulse still unsteady.

She let out a long breath and pressed the heels of her palms to her face.

"Okay," she whispered to herself.

Then she stood, tightened the towel around her chest, and finally went to get ready.

The café was surprisingly less packed than Petra expected for a Saturday morning. Then again, it had been a while since she'd come here this early.

Since her breakup last February, she made a dynamic shift in her daily schedule. Mornings were for sleep now; she usually woke just before noon, then headed to the rented kitchen where she took over the dinner meal-prep shift after her co-business partners, Eld and Gunther, handled the breakfast and lunch batches. She'd cook through the afternoon and into the evening, then list down the ingredients they needed for the next day or help with the customer service aspect of their business with Eld's wife. After which, she stayed behind to clean the kitchen while the guys handled deliveries and did the groceries. From Mondays to Saturdays, work for her always ends at midnight, and only then does she leave to go to the gym, carrying with her two extra packs of a three-course meal – one for herself, and one for Levi.

She had managed to clear her Saturday for today.

Not without teasing, of course.

Eld and Gunther had given her hell the moment she told them that she couldn't be around, though they'd looked more delighted than annoyed. Truthfully, they seemed almost relieved that the reason she was asking for time off was that she had an actual date.

"It's about time, Petra. Really. I'm glad you're dipping your toes into the dating scene again." Eld had said yesterday. The guys were very much aware of the whole ordeal between her and her ex. They were good friends, going way back since college, and they had been one of the many voices who had told her how horrible Franz had been treating her through the years. She still somehow regrets not listening to them to this day.

Gunther had chimed in as well. "Took a while, though. I was even starting to think you and that gym of yours were in a committed relationship."

"Forget the gym. We all know she means that coach." Eld glanced up with a smirk. "What's his name again? 'Just Levi'?"

Petra had nearly dropped the container she was sealing. "I do not talk about him that much."

"You brought him free meals for months!"

"That was trade," she'd argued, cheeks burning. "He was helping me train."

"Sure," Gunther said. "Nothing romantic about sharing a meal you cooked yourself with a grumpy, strong man at three in the morning."

Eld barked a laugh. "Hopefully they won't spend the whole date just talking about their next PR goals."

Gunther snickered. "Hey, if he's the right guy, he'll find that hot."

That had made Petra hide her face behind both hands while the two men laughed like idiots across the kitchen.

And now, sitting in the café with a warm cup of tea between her palms and her pulse still a little too fast for someone who had arrived a little early, Petra could still hear them.

It's about time, Petra.

Maybe they were right.

Levi arrived twenty minutes late.

Petra had chosen a table by the window, so she saw him the moment he pulled into a parking space. She wasn't aware that he owned a car – a sleek black Audi that looked far more pristine than the other vehicles lined up beside it.

She also wasn't prepared for the sight of him.

For eight months, she had only ever seen Levi in activewear: a black or white shirt paired with grey joggers or black shorts. On rarer nights, he'd wear a black tank top that showed off the hard definition of his shoulders, arms, and his lats spreading like wings whenever he'd hop up an overhead bar to do some pull-ups. Whenever he did, Petra would end up hiding in the locker room for a few extra minutes, forcing herself to think of anything else just to calm the heat rushing into her face.

But this was different.

He looked different in a way that felt both unfamiliar and deeply, unfairly right… and Petra ended up swallowing a mouthful of hot tea before she even registered the taste.

He walked through the café door in an all-black ensemble that somehow looked casual and refined at once: a dark button-up shirt with a faint sheen to it, tucked neatly into dark jeans, and black leather sneakers. Everything fit him too well, tracing the breadth of his well-defined shoulders and narrowing cleanly at his waist. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, strong forearm muscles flexing when he slipped his hands from his pockets. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and Petra caught the brief line of his collarbone.

He looked criminally hot.

So incredibly hot that Petra couldn't believe she fucked her fingers earlier in the day to the image of this man.

And while she tried very hard not to squirm in her seat, she became suddenly, acutely aware of how simple she must look next to him. She was wearing a dress, just as she'd told him she would, but it was a plain, deep green midi dress that fell a little above her knees. Sleeveless, with thick straps, though the weather had been chilly enough that she'd hidden her arms beneath a black cardigan. On her feet were her usual black combat boots.

Nifa – far too enthusiastic that her best friend was finally going on a date – had spent most of last night trying to convince her to borrow a pair of heels from her collection. Petra had declined. They were still going to a powerlifting meet after lunch, and heels in a gymnasium felt ridiculous.

But watching Levi cross the café toward her now, Petra had to admit… he looked a little overdressed, too.

But he looked hot, and somehow that makes up for it all.

"Did you wait long?" he muttered as he slid into the chair across from her. His head was slightly lowered, as if avoiding her gaze.

Petra shook her head. "No. Not long."

He lifted his eyes at last, though his line of sight landed somewhere over her shoulder instead. "Sorry," he said, brows drawing together in irritation. "One of the coaches who was supposed to cover my shift later had a family emergency. I had to call around and see who could sub in tonight that actually knows how to clean the damn place."

"Oh." She blinked. "Any luck?"

He gave a short shake of his head, a frustrated sound leaving his throat. "None. Which means I'm taking the night shift after all."

Then his eyes dropped to the second cup beside her, still warm and steaming. He stared at it for a second before finally looking at her.

"That for me?" He tipped his chin toward the cup.

Petra smiled and nodded, gently sliding the saucer toward him. "Earl Grey. I ordered ahead. I had a feeling you skipped your first cup after waking up, since you sounded like you were in a rush."

"Damn right," he muttered.

He lifted the cup in that strange way of his – fingers hooked over the rim instead of using the handle. Petra had seen him hold his protein bottle like that more than once. She hadn't expected him to do it with delicate teacups, too, but she supposed it was just another one of Levi's odd habits, along with wiping every surface three times before trusting it was clean.

"So…" she began carefully, curling both hands around her own cup. "You're okay with that?"

Levi glanced at her over the rim. "Okay with what?"

She shrugged lightly. "Having to take the night shift tonight, when you're already up earlier than usual. You said the meet won't end until around five, right? Will that still give you enough time to sleep?"

"Not enough," he said plainly. "But it's fine. I'm not training tonight anyway. My lifts feel like shit when I'm groggy."

He paused, gaze dropping to the tea in his hand, expression turning thoughtful.

"Honestly," he said after a moment, voice lower now, "I'm more pissed that I'll have to leave early because of it." He took a longer sip, then added, almost too casually, "I was hoping we'd make it to dinner or something."

Petra blinked, heat already rising into her cheeks. She managed a small laugh. "It's okay. We're having lunch together already."

He looked away with a shrug. "Yeah. I guess I'm just used to eating with you."

He said it so nonchalantly that Petra had to focus very hard on keeping her face from going fully red.

"In any case, it's not an excuse for being late." Levi went on, setting the cup down and leaning back in his chair. His eyes drifted to the people moving past the window. "I make it a point to be on time. Would have woken up sooner, but it took me a while to get some sleep last night." His voice lowered further, trailing behind in a tone that had a slight hint of embarrassment. "I had to do… something."

Petra tilted her head, curious despite herself. "What were you doing?"

His sharp gray-blue eyes shifted from the window and fixed on her.

He held her gaze for far too long. Long enough that Petra was the first to look away, suddenly very aware of the warmth in her face.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, lifting his tea again. There was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice now. "We should order."

Lunch went more easily than Petra expected.

After they ordered, the conversation slipped into a rhythm so familiar it almost made her laugh at herself for being nervous earlier. They talked first about training, which was expected, really. Levi asked what she planned for her next lower-body day and immediately started picking apart her sequence with that blunt, practical tone of his, telling her she was stacking too much fatigue too early if she insisted on pushing heavy squats before deadlift accessories. Petra argued back, lightly, that she recovered fine if she managed her volume. Levi rolled his eyes and told her that recovering fine and recovering well weren't the same thing. She rolled her eyes back, and he looked almost pleased that she did.

From there, they moved to Eren.

Or, more specifically, Levi complaining about Eren.

Petra had met the kid once a few months ago, when she had managed to finish cleaning the kitchen a little earlier and arrived at midnight instead of her usual 2 AM session. Eren had just finished a late training session with Levi when she entered the gym. The kid was shy but enthusiastic to meet "the other one who Levi coaches" before Levi once again remarked out loud how he isn't her coach.

Levi goes through lunch talking about how Eren had been extra impossible all week. He'd been restless, overexcited, and too eager to "test" his strength before the meet instead of tapering properly. Petra laughed into her tea as Levi described him with a flat, long-suffering look, calling him a reckless brat with no patience and a hero complex. But then she softened when Levi quietly admitted that the kid had worked hard for this and did have a real shot if he kept his head on straight.

That led naturally into Mikasa.

Levi spoke about his cousin with the same roughness he used on everyone else, but Petra could hear the fondness beneath it. He called her intense, stubborn, and "too good for that idiot," but also said he expected her to be at the meet later, probably looking calmer than Eren while being twice as ready to fight anyone who stressed him out before his lifts. Petra found herself smiling at that image before she even met Mikasa.

Their conversation eventually drifted into softer things. With Petra talking about her childhood home. She told him about learning to cook by hovering around older relatives and being trusted first with washing vegetables, then chopping, then finally being allowed near the stove.

Throughout it all, Levi listened. He didn't interrupt much except to ask short questions here and there in that clipped way of his. But every question landed in a way that made it easy for her to keep talking.

And, in turn, he spoke about his mother. Not a lot, but just enough. Enough for Petra to understand the shape of her in his life: hardworking, tired, fiercely loving in quiet ways. Enough for Petra to see where some of Levi came from – his discipline, the sharpness, the habit of noticing what needed doing and simply doing it.

He talked with that same dry, restrained tone, sometimes veering crass, sometimes brushing close to something tender before stepping back from it. But he kept the conversation going with a steadiness she'd never have expected from someone who so often came off aloof.

By the middle of the meal, Petra realized with some wonder that this felt almost no different from the nights they shared food on gym mats or benches between sets. The same easy bickering, the backs-and-forth. The unexpectedly thoughtful moments escaping from Levi's mouth, before realizing what he said, and then looking mildly irritated about it.

The only real difference was the setting and the hour.

No mirrored walls. No clank of weight plates. No fluorescent lights and rubber flooring. Just daylight through the café windows, warm dishes between them, and people talking around them while she sat across from him in a simple dress instead of leggings and sweats.

For eight months, Petra had told herself the small bubble they shared in the dead of night was enough. That she could live with the quiet crush, the glances in mirrors, the praise that made her chest flutter, the meals, the training, and the unintentional touches.

But now, sitting across from him like this, outside the world where she first knew him, she found herself thinking that this was something she could absolutely get used to.

It was only near the end of the meal, when their plates were nearly empty, and the conversation had fallen into a comfortable lull, that Levi gave her the first compliment of the day that didn't sound like his absent-minded quips.

He looked at her across the table, voice lower than usual when he said, "You look really nice."

Petra blinked, then immediately tucked a lock of ginger hair behind her ear, ducking her head to hide the heat rushing into her face. She had been blushing far too much this morning already.

She let out a small, anxious laugh. "I think I'm wearing something too plain, really."

Levi grumbled under his breath, brows pulling together.

"Stop selling yourself short," he said. His eyes stayed on her, steady and sure. "You always look nice."

The sound of the chattering of other people in the café seemed to have quieted in that very moment, though no one seemed to pay them any heed. The only eyes on her were Levi's. And the only voice she hears is his amidst the gentle rhythm of the guitar of MINOVA's "I Want You."

[The sight that I would see of who you are with me,

It's often a sight they wouldn't see

If you were less, it's me, the only]

Levi and Petra arrived at the gymnasium shortly before the call for the afternoon session began.

They had lingered far longer at the café than either of them intended, both of them losing track of time until Levi checked his phone, swore under his breath, and immediately stood. Fortunately, the café was just across from the venue, and they made it inside with only enough time for Levi to start scanning the crowd for Eren among a sea of broad backs, tight singlets, and chalked hands.

The indoor gym was stifling with bodies, and Petra had to slip off her cardigan almost as soon as they entered, baring her arms to cool her skin. The air smelled faintly of chalk and iron, layered over with the sweat of lifters warming up and the packed crowd gathered around the platform. Levi, unsurprisingly, complained under his breath within the first minute, muttering that this was the exact kind of atmosphere he did not miss from his competition days.

It was Eren who found them first. The brunette lifted a hand high over the crowd and waved when he spotted Levi, and the two of them made their way over through the cluster of spectators and lifters. Levi kept a steady hand around Petra's wrist as they navigated the crush of bodies, guiding her through without looking back.

"Squats first, right?" Levi asked the moment they reached him, tipping his chin toward the makeshift platform at the center of the gym.

Eren nodded from where he sat on one of the lower bleacher levels, tugging a tight knee sleeve higher up his calf. He was already in his black singlet with a red shirt underneath, his shoulder-length hair pulled half-up into a messy bun Levi had criticized earlier at the café. Beside him stood a tall girl with a chin-length black bob, striking East Asian features, and an all-black outfit softened only by the red scarf draped around her shoulders.

Seated next to Eren was another boy around the same age, blond and wearing thick-rimmed glasses, hunched over Eren's belt and adjusting the screws on the clasp with a focused look. The boy dressed more like he was headed to a comic shop than a powerlifting meet. Petra assumed this was Armin, one of Eren's "brat" friends that Levi also spoke about.

Only the girl looked up at them first. Her gaze landed on Levi with a questioning lift of her brow, then shifted to Petra, and her expression warmed into a small smile.

Levi cleared his throat. "Mikasa. Petra." He introduced them curtly, still not quite looking at either woman. Then, after the briefest pause, he added, "Petra. My cousin."

"Hi," Petra said with a shy smile. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Mikasa."

Mikasa's smile widened, dark lipstick stretching over white teeth. "Me too. Levi's talked about you."

Petra blinked, then turned to Levi with open curiosity and a hint of amusement. "He has?"

Levi very pointedly kept his attention on Eren, who was still fighting with the last few inches of his knee sleeve. He wore an almost offended pout.

Mikasa gave a soft laugh. Tiny silver chains from her earrings clinked when she tilted her head. "Of course. It's not often I hear him mention a girl this much."

"I don't talk about her that much," Levi muttered, tone edged with irritation.

"You're not exactly talkative," Mikasa replied calmly. "So a few words from you about her already means a lot."

Levi looked mildly affronted. "What are you talking about? I'm always talkative."

Petra had to bite back a laugh.

Eren jumped in, voice strained as he dragged the sleeve the rest of the way up his leg. "I'm more surprised he even asked you out, Miss Petra. Didn't think he had it in him to date any – Ow! What the hell?"

Levi had kicked him in the side of the thigh. To anyone else, it might have looked like a sharp nudge with the tip of his shoe. Petra, who knew about Levi's judo background, was pretty sure there was far more force packed into it than it looked.

"Shut up and hurry up, brat," Levi grumbled. "They're about to fucking start."

Mikasa shot him a sharp glare. Petra, meanwhile, couldn't help noticing how similar the cousins looked when annoyed.

Right on cue, the announcer called the start of the 83-kilo weight class – Eren's division.

By the time Eren finally got both sleeves in place and Armin handed him his belt, all five of them were moving. They descended from the bleachers and made their way toward the competition platform, weaving through loaders, spotters, and competitors rotating in and out of the warm-up area. At the back of the setup, the lifters in Eren's flight waited near the staging zone, listening for their names and attempts. Since the order was running alphabetically, Yeager was still several names down the list, which gave Levi enough time to do what Petra had quietly expected him to do.

He started coaching Eren. But he didn't do it the way he coached her. With Petra, Levi's corrections could be blunt, yes, but there was usually a certain measured patience beneath them, especially when he was trying to make her feel a movement. With Eren, he was all hard edges and clipped commands, one after another, delivered like he was trying to hammer the instructions straight into the boy's skull before he stepped on stage.

"Chest up. Don't dive into the hole like an idiot."

Eren rolled his eyes and checked the tightness of his belt. "I know."

"Then act like it," Levi shot back. "Brace before you unrack, not after. Get your feet set and stay set. Hit depth, drive up, and don't rack until they tell you."

"I said I know."

"If you knew, I wouldn't have to repeat it."

Petra stood a little off to the side with Mikasa and Armin, listening with quiet amusement. It was strange and almost entertaining to hear Levi coach someone else for once. His tone was harsher with Eren than with her, rougher around the edges, but she could still hear the same directness in every reminder. Levi was, as always, deeply invested, whether he admitted it or not.

Around them, the platform moved steadily through the first names in the flight.

Bars were loaded and unloaded in a swift, practiced rhythm. The metallic clank of collars and plates mixed with the announcer's voice and the occasional bursts of cheers from the crowd when a heavy attempt moved well. Every few minutes, a lifter would come off the platform flushed and breathing hard, and a coach would step in close with quick words, water, or a slap on the shoulder.

Petra found herself watching everything with growing fascination.

Then one of the officials at staging called Eren forward and told him he'd be up after the next lifter.

And then Mikasa moved. She stepped in front of Eren, rose onto her toes, and planted a quick, flat kiss to his lips. Eren kissed her back just as easily, one hand briefly touching her waist before she pulled away.

Beside Petra, Levi crossed his arms over his chest and let out an audible, disgusted grumble.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes so hard Petra thought he might strain something. He looked away with a scowl.

And Petra really laughed this time, head tipping back, eyes falling shut as her shoulders shook with it. She was still smiling when she looked back at him, already ready with some snide remark about how dramatic he was.

The words died before they reached her mouth.

Because Levi was looking at her.

His eyes were still intense. Levi's eyes were always intense, really. But in that moment, they softened, fixed on her face in a way that made her breath catch.

They held each other's gaze for a moment.

Then Levi looked away first.

Without a word, he reached for her hand, closed his fingers around it, and tugged her forward through the crowd toward the front, where Mikasa and Armin were already waiting at the cordoned edge of the low stage.

By the time Petra found her footing beside them, Eren was stepping under the bar, hands setting wide on the knurling as the spotters took their positions.

Every lifter had three attempts for a one-rep max. The weight climbed with each round, each competitor trying to outlift the rest. The current best squat in the division, set by an earlier lifter, stood at 155 kg. Levi had told her Eren's latest PR was 157.5 kg.

And sure enough, Eren matched that same PR on his second attempt.

The crowd erupted. Petra cheered too, clapping hard enough that her palms stung, though her applause was swallowed by the louder reactions from Mikasa and Armin at her sides. Levi, meanwhile, only gave a single nod of approval. But Petra caught the way the hard lines of his face softened, the same way they had when she hit her deadlift PR two nights ago.

She tried not to think about the kiss that followed.

But it didn't help that he was standing so close. Their shoulders brushed every now and then when the crowd shifted and pressed in tighter, and each accidental touch made her acutely aware of the solid line of his arm beside hers, the flex of muscle beneath his rolled sleeves whenever he crossed his arms or moved.

Eren called for a third attempt, the loaders adding smaller plates to bring the total to 160 kg.

Beside her, Levi frowned at once and muttered under his breath that the brat hadn't touched that weight in training yet. The extra 2.5 kilos sounded small, but Petra knew by now how much that could matter under a bar, especially under lights, with a crowd breathing down your neck.

And sure enough, Eren missed the lift. His legs stalled, trembled, and gave way just enough that the spotters had to catch the bar and guide it safely back. A disappointed sound rippled through the crowd, followed quickly by applause all the same. Eren Yeager had still posted the heaviest successful squat so far, and there was only one lifter left after him.

When Eren strode back toward the waiting area at the side of the gym with a disappointed furrow of his brows, Mikasa and Armin were already moving, hurrying through the crowd to meet him.

Levi watched them go, but stayed rooted beside her. Petra could see it on him, though. He looked like he wanted to follow, but was making himself stay.

She reached up and tugged lightly at his sleeve. He turned to her at once.

"You should go," she said, smiling. "I'll stay here and save the spot."

Levi looked conflicted. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Go check on him. You're his coach. Besides, I wanna see how the last lifter does."

He hesitated another second, then nodded once. "I won't be long," he said in a lower voice, before turning and slipping through the crowd.

Petra watched the dark crown of his head disappear among taller men and raised phones, then turned back to the platform just as the last lifter stepped up for his first attempt.

Petra found herself watching more than just the weight now. She watched the tiny rituals every lifter seemed to have before they unracked. A tap on the belt. A shake of the arms. A stare into the middle distance, as if they were trying to force their own body into obedience.

It fascinated her.

This was only the men's division, but she'd overheard earlier that the women's meet would be held the following week. The thought had been sitting in the back of her mind ever since.

She was nowhere near ready for something like that, really. Her numbers weren't there yet; her technique still needed polishing under heavier loads.

Still, as she watched the next attempt go up, heard the crowd rise with it, then break into cheers when the lifter locked it out clean, Petra felt something bright stir inside her chest.

She understood now why people chased this. Not just the numbers. But the rush of it. The pressure. The split-second silence before the lift, then the explosion after. The way a whole room of strangers could roar for you when you moved something your body had no business moving. The look on a lifter's face when they realized they'd outdone themselves, if only by a kilo or two.

Maybe... she could try this out someday.

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the side where Levi had gone, and she found herself thinking that maybe she could ask him. Not now, but later, when they were back in their own space, and the noise was gone.

The last lifter missed his second attempt, then made the call to repeat it on his third. He managed that final lift with the crowd breaking into applause. Still, he only managed 155 kg. Eren still held the top successful squat in the flight. If he could keep pace with bench and deadlift, he really could take gold.

Petra smiled to herself, already turning to head toward the waiting area where Levi, Mikasa, Armin, and Eren would be gathering before the bench press session.

"Petra?"

The voice came from behind her, half-lost in the crowd noise but unmistakably familiar.

She turned sharply.

Her eyes widened at the sight of a tall man with pale, dirty-blond curls and a long face lined with wrinkles too deep for someone close to her age.

Surprise flickered across her features, followed by a half-formed smile. "Oluo?"

Oluo had been a friend since high school, one who followed her all the way through college, where he took up Physical Education – the same degree Levi had, though Oluo eventually decided he was better suited to wrangling elementary school kids than coaching aspiring powerlifters. For a while, he had helped Petra, Eld, and Gunther with deliveries for their meal-prep business while he waited to land a proper coaching job. Last she heard, he'd been hired by a school to handle their football team, a sport he'd always been good at.

He approached with that same stupid grin she remembered. "Damn. It really is you. I thought I was hallucinating from all the chalk in this place."

Petra let out a short laugh despite herself. "And you still look like a forty-year-old uncle."

Oluo clutched at his chest in mock offense. "How dare you. I'm as young and handsome as ever."

"Young, sure. But it looks like the stress of handling a bunch of rowdy children had done absolutely nothing for your face."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, but his smile was softer. "True, true. Still, the job's rather fulfilling. So, I guess it's all worth it."

She smiled at that, clutching her hands behind her back. "I'm glad it is Oluo, really."

He paused for a moment and dipped his head, his wrinkly smile turning more genuine. "Anyway, you look good, Pet. Been a while."

"Yeah," she said, shoulders easing a little. "It has."

They traded a few more quick lines in their familiar old banter. He asked how the meal-prep business was going, how the guys were doing. She asked how many children under his care had nearly driven him insane this month. He told her he was at twelve and counting.

And then Petra had a thought.

If Oluo's here, then that meant...

As if summoned by the realization, another voice cut in from just behind him.

"Petra, it's really you."

Her smile dropped instantly. Her posture went rigid before she could stop it.

Franz.

He and Oluo had always been close, and it was one of the few things Petra, and frankly, the rest of their friend group, had quietly resented Oluo for after the breakup. Even after hearing what Franz had put her through, Oluo still lingered in his orbit. Petra tried not to hold it fully against him. He'd known Franz longer than he'd known her. And she had heard, here and there, that Oluo was trying to distance himself. But Franz had always been good at keeping people where he wanted them. He'd done it to her for three years. Why would a lifelong friend be any different?

Franz stepped in before she could move, loomed high enough that he nearly blocked her view of Oluo.

He was a tall brunette, green-eyed, lean but muscular in that self-satisfied way of men who spent more time admiring themselves than actually training. His height cast a literal shadow over her, and with it came that old, sickening feeling crawling under her skin. Petra fought the urge not to shrink.

Only then did she really notice that he was wearing a lifter's singlet.

Her eyes flicked over the competition attire, surprise cutting briefly through her dread. She hadn't even known he was competing. She hadn't even known he had the intention of joining from the very start.

But Franz, arrogant as ever, mistook the look for something else.

A cocky grin split across his face, something dark and pleased flashing in his eyes. "How'd you know I'd be here, sugar?" he asked. "Didn't realize you found out I was competing."

Petra physically cringed at the pet name. It was a harsh reminder of what she was to him – a mere indulgence.

Her brows pulled together. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "I'm not here for you."

"Really?" He tipped his head, feigning innocence. "Funny place for you to end up, then. A powerlifting meet?" His gaze dragged over the platform and back to her, smug. "Didn't think you were into this stuff."

She let out a sharp breath through her nose. "I always was. You just never cared enough to listen to anything I liked."

Behind him, Oluo reached forward and clasped a hand on Franz's shoulder, expression tightening. "Bro, come on. Leave her alone."

But Franz shrugged him off without even turning. "Relax. We're just talking."

Petra knew that tone. The one that always sounded harmless and playful to outsiders. But deep down, he hid a blade beneath the words.

Franz looked her over again, slowly. From head to toe, then back up, his mouth curving at one side.

He stepped closer. "You look… different," he said, drawing the word out. "A little bigger." His eyes dipped to her shoulders, her arms, the line of her waist. "Bulkier."

Petra's stomach dropped.

His smirk widened as if he'd seen the reaction and liked it.

"You working out again?" he asked. "Haven't seen you at the gym in months."

She took a step back, jaw tight. "I changed my session time so I wouldn't have to see your ugly face."

Franz laughed. It grated in her ears.

"Come on, sugar, you don't think I'm ugly."

"I do."

He leaned in like he hadn't heard her at all, voice lowering into that fake-soft tone she used to mistake for affection. "I mean… I don't really like the whole bulking-up thing on you." His eyes moved over her arms again, then lower, assessing, claiming. "But I can appreciate that it gave you curves you didn't really have before."

The words hit like a thunderbolt.

Petra felt the heat rise behind her eyes so fast it made her vision sting. For one awful second, she was right back there. Back in that apartment they shared, back under a thousand little comments disguised as jokes, as concern, as help.

She stepped back again.

Franz stepped forward with her.

Then his hand shot out and clamped around her bare upper arm.

Petra gasped. His grip was tight enough to hurt instantly, fingers digging into muscle as he squeezed.

"Damn," he said, turning her arm slightly like he had any right. "You are firm now. Feels kinda manly. But it's not so bad. Kinda like it on you."

"Get off me." Her voice came out sharper than she expected, trembling with anger. She grabbed at his wrist with both hands and tried to pry him off.

Franz's grin only spread as he let out an amused whistle. "Grip's stronger too," he mocked. "But not strong enough."

Oluo was already trying to pry him back, cursing under his breath as he grabbed Franz from behind and yanked at his shoulder. "Franz, what the hell is wrong with you? Let her go."

Franz barely budged.

And then another hand landed over Franz's wrist.

The hand was smaller than Franz's, but the grip on him was vicious. Petra saw Franz's knuckles blanch almost immediately as his face twisted, more in shock than pain at first, then both.

Petra turned to the source of the hand, although she already had an idea who it was.

Levi.

He had stepped in so fast that Petra hadn't even seen him approach.

Levi's eyes were narrowed in a way Petra had never seen up close before. Cold and focused and lethal, blue-grey turned almost bright beneath the harsh gym lights. The height difference was clear between them, but Levi kept his head neutral, neither bowing his head low nor craning his neck up at Franz. Yet his eyes flickered upwards, the intense and almost murderous gaze peaking between the dark strands of his fringe.

His voice came out low and deadly.

"Mind letting her go, motherfucker?"

Franz didn't budge. Even with Levi's grip crushing his wrist, he held on out of sheer stubbornness.

So Levi twisted. An outward rotation with enough torque to make Franz hiss and instantly release Petra's arm. Franz stumbled back three steps and crashed into Oluo, who caught him by reflex.

Levi stepped fully in front of Petra. Then, as if he'd just touched chalk instead of skin, he made a small, nonchalant motion of dusting his hand off.

"Pretty good reflexes," Levi said flatly, eyes still sharp. "But if you didn't let go, you'd be trying to bench with a busted arm. Would've been a shame. After all that work to get into this meet." His gaze flicked over Franz, cool and dismissive. "Not that you look like you're winning anything."

Franz's face twisted with anger. "I could sue you for that," he said, voice low, threatening.

Levi shrugged, hands sliding into his pockets like he was bored. "Sure. Not like half the room didn't just watch you grab and harass her."

Only then did Petra really register the crowd that had gathered around them. Faces turned. Even Mikasa, Eren, and Armin were there. Both the young couple look ready to lunge.

Franz lifted his chin, desperate to reclaim control. "She's my girlfriend," he said, looking at Petra like she owed him agreement. "We were just talking. Right, sugar?"

Petra's stomach turned. "I'm not–"

"As far as I know," Levi cut in smoothly, "she's dating me now."

Franz snapped his glare to Levi. "We haven't broken up," he said, smugness creeping back in. "Thought you should know that."

Petra stared at him, disbelief punching the air from her lungs.

Levi's voice stayed calm, which somehow made it worse. "Cheating usually counts as breaking up."

Franz scoffed. "Oh, please. She's always been dramatic." His eyes slid to Petra, then down her body with a smirk that made her skin crawl. "And look at her. Trying to play tough now–"

Levi shifted one step, blocking Franz's view of her completely. "Say one more thing about her," he said quietly, "and I'll stop being polite."

Franz's lips curled. "What, you gonna hit me? In front of everyone?" His gaze flicked down Levi's height with obvious contempt. "You're not exactly intimidating, man. You look like I could fold you easily."

Levi's expression didn't change. "Is that a challenge?"

Franz's grin widened, reckless. "Why not?"

Behind him, Oluo's face went pale. He grabbed Franz's shoulder harder, shaking it like he was trying to wake him up. "Bro. Stop. Don't. Just–"

Franz tried to shrug him off. "What's your problem?"

Petra finally found her voice again. "Levi," she said sharply, pushing past the tightness in her throat. "Don't. It's not worth it."

Levi didn't take his eyes off Franz, but his free hand came back to Petra, his fingers settling over the spot on her upper arm where Franz had gripped her. The red imprint was already visible. Levi's jaw tightened when he saw it after a brief glance.

"You okay?" he asked, quieter now, for her.

Petra swallowed and nodded. "I'm fine."

Franz laughed, loud and performative. "Aw, look at that. The pipsqueak's playing hero."

Oluo snapped then, losing patience. "Because you're about to embarrass yourself," he hissed, finally speaking up. "Do you even know who that is?" He pointed at Levi like Franz was stupid. Which he definitely is.

Franz turned on him, irritated. "Why shouldn't I challenge this small fry?"

Oluo's voice went flat with disbelief. "Because that's Levi Ackerman."

The name hit the air, loud enough to render most of the competing lifters in the room to silence.

"The Levi Ackerman," Oluo continued, louder now so it carried, "who held the highest total powerlifting weight in both local and state meets for years. Pulled almost five times his freakin' body weight in his DLs! His record's never beaten. You pick a fight with him, and you're not proving anything. I'm sparing you what's left of your dignity, you idiot."

Franz blinked. Once. Twice. The cocky grin disappeared the moment the name seemed to have finally registered in his brain.

But, as usual, still stubbornly clinging to pride, he opened his mouth, about to say something stupid.

But Levi cut him off just as she felt him pull her closer to his side, his arm sliding behind her and settling at her waist in a hold that was both gentle and protective.

"Here's some advice," Levi said, voice calm but carrying. "Petra's stronger than you'll ever be on your best day because she actually works for it, and she doesn't need to break other people to feel big." His eyes flicked over Franz like he was trash on the floor – one that he wasn't interested in picking up for once. "And you? You're just fucking loud."

Franz's face darkened, but he held his tongue at last.

Levi started to turn away, guiding Petra with him. But then he stopped, looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes went cold again.

"Also," he added, "find another gym that'll tolerate your weak ass. I'm canceling your membership at Scout 24/7."

Franz's jaw dropped. "You can't just do that!"

Levi's reply was flat and final. "I can. I own it."

Then he led Petra through the crowd toward a quieter corner of the gymnasium. They passed Eren and the others, Mikasa giving Petra a sympathetic look as Eren and Armin held expressions that were both a mix of worry and relief.

Levi didn't slow until they were out of the crush of bodies, his hand still firm around Petra's waist.

He pulled her into an empty side room, a smaller space with matted flooring and one wall covered in a full-length mirror. Probably a warm-up room for gymnasts, since the layout was familiar to Petra. Levi half-closed the door behind them, leaving a sliver open so the hallway light could spill in.

Only when the dimness settled over her did the adrenaline finally drain, and Petra's throat tightened. Her eyes stung. And then the tears came anyway, hot and humiliating, spilling down her cheeks as the weight of Franz's voice and hands and old poison caught up to her all at once.

Levi was in front of her immediately.

Both hands rose to her face, cupping her cheeks. His thumbs swept the tears away, calluses rough on spots where the bar had worn his palms raw over the years. Petra closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth without thinking.

"Hey," Levi whispered, breath close. "Are you really okay?"

Petra let out a laugh. It was light, tired, and painfully genuine.

Levi pulled back just enough to look at her, brow pinched. "What are you laughing about?" His voice stayed soft, but it was still laced with concern.

She shook her head quickly, tears still falling. "I'm laughing because… because I was so stupid," she managed through a shaky breath. "I let someone charming and cruel pull me down for years, and I didn't even realize how heavy the weight was until I finally let go."

Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to keep going, eyes still closed, forehead nearly brushing his.

"And with you," she whispered, the words catching. "You're… you're rough, and you're blunt, and you don't know how to sugarcoat anything and–" another breathy laugh "–and you're so honest. And you've only ever lifted me up."

Petra opened her eyes then, wet lashes and all, and looked at him, memorizing his face in the dim light.

"And I want that. I want this," she said, trembling. "I want whatever this is. As long as it's with you. I want it." She swallowed, voice going smaller. "S-so yeah. I'm okay. I'm okay now. I am."

Levi's expression tightened for a split second, like he was trying to hold something back.

Then he didn't.

Instead, he surged forward to kiss her.

Petra gasped at the suddenness, then melted into him like she'd been begging for it since the moment she saw him this morning – maybe since the moment she woke up.

Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric of his shirt, and settled at his neck, fingers curling there to keep him close.

Levi's mouth was firm, both demanding and gentle at the same time, as he pried her lips apart and slipped his tongue to dance with hers. His hands left her cheeks and slipped down her sides, settling at her hips, pulling her in until there was no space left to doubt.

He guided her back until her shoulder brushed the wall beside the half-open door.

Petra's breath hitched. "Levi..."

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and Petra answered with a soft, broken sound she didn't recognize as her own. His mouth moved to her jaw, then to the side of her neck, and she tipped her head back without thinking, giving him access to lap at more of her skin.

One of his hands left her side and slid lower against her thigh, only to climb back up slowly, caressing her skin with his rough fingers while hitching her skirt higher.

And in response, Petra raised that leg and locked it behind his hip, opening her thighs for him so he could push himself further into her. And she gasped at the sudden feel of him nudging against her core.

Levi was hard.

His cock strained beneath his thick jeans. The texture was rough against her panties, yet the heat from him seeped through the denim.

He kept himself pressed to her, but barely made a move.

So, with a sudden candor, Petra made a slow roll of her hips, feeling the faint outline of him against the tough fabric. The friction was enough to cause sparks to appear in her vision. The same sparks she saw this morning while she touched herself to the sound of his voice in the video recording.

"…Fuck," Levi breathed, the word rough against her skin. Petra shivered at his tone.

His voice dropped again, suddenly close to her ear. "You know why it took me so long to sleep last night?"

Petra could barely form a thought. Her hands tightened on his shirt. "W-what–"

"I was up. For hours," he murmured, kissing along her jaw. "Thinking about you. Thinking about what you can do."

Petra's breath stuttered. "What I can – ah."

The sound that escaped her throat was long and breathy when his hips rolled back to meet hers more than once. Slow and languid, yet burning her in the most frustratingly delicious way.

And then Levi paused and lifted his head just enough for their foreheads to touch, noses brushing. In the dim light, his eyes were sharp and soft at the same time – a pair of burning, icy blues.

"Yeah," he whispered, mouth hovering over hers. "Everything you can do to me. Everything your body can do to me."

Petra's chest felt too tight for air.

His mouth brushed hers again, barely a kiss, more a promise. "I want you, Petra."

No one had ever said it like that to her.

Not as a demand. Not as if she were a trophy. Not as something to be taken for granted.

Just a genuine, desperate want for her.

Petra made a breathy sound and crashed her lips back to his, kissing him long and hungry and desperate like she could erase every memory Franz ever left under her skin.

And then–

"The 83-kilo division for bench press will begin in five minutes. All lifters and coaches, please assemble in the side hall…"

The announcement blared through the hallway speakers like a slap, reality rushing back in quickly.

They froze by the door.

Breathing hard.

Foreheads still pressed.

Heat still pooled between them like a held breath neither of them wanted to release.

"Once again, the 83-kilo division for bench press will begin in five minutes…"

After what sounded like a shaky exhale escaped his nose, Levi pulled back slowly.

At the same time, Petra slowly unlatched her leg from his waist, and she tried not to audibly whine at the loss of his warmth from between her legs. Levi's hands stayed at her waist, his hold still firm while he helped her settle back on both feet again.

He kept his eyes locked with her, as if gazing into the amber highlights of her eyes.

And then his eyes cast downward to look at her arm, at the faint red imprint where Franz had grabbed her, and his jaw clenched.

"Do you still want to stay?" he asked suddenly, softly, brows knitting. "He'll still be around. I can take you home if you don't want to see him."

Petra swallowed, wiped her cheeks, and shook her head.

"No." Her voice steadied. "You're a coach here. We should stay. I want to stay." She looked up at him, eyes hard now. "I don't care about him."

Then she let out a small snicker and reached up to fix his collar, which she'd completely ruined from her gripping him closer. "Besides… I wanna see him fail his lifts."

Levi blinked, surprised.

Then his mouth twitched. And he gifted Petra with one of his very rare smiles, although this one was more of a smirk at least.

He smoothed the fabric of her dress at her waist, a quick, careful gesture.

"Trust me," he said, voice low with certainty. "He's gonna place last."

Petra's heart kicked.

Levi pulled her in one last time and kissed her again. Gentler now, yet still lingering with heat. Enough to make her dizzy. Then he rested his forehead against hers for a brief second.

"Come on," he murmured. "Let's get back."

And the hours blazed through quickly, filled with cheers and enthusiastic applause as Eren once again dominated the bench press phase. However, he lagged behind his deadlift, not even managing his own PR at his third attempt. He was likely already tired, something Levi partially blames the boy for. He'd told him all week to taper and recover, to stop trying to prove anything the day before a meet, but Eren had insisted on training anyway, so the evidence of fatigue was still present in his leg muscles.

Still, Eren performed well enough to take second place overall. He stood on the podium with Mikasa clinging to his side, while Armin took photos and laughed as the two of them made a ridiculous show of biting the edge of Eren's silver medal.

In the 90-kilo division, Petra and Levi watched from a distance as Franz failed his third attempts on both squat and bench. He salvaged his deadlift with a 120 kg pull, ten kilos heavier than Petra's PR from the other night.

She pouted at the fact that he had somehow managed to outlift her in the one goal she successfully hit first.

But then Levi leaned in, voice low near her ear again. "Remember, you're smaller than him, and you still pulled close to his class. That says a lot about who exactly is stronger between you two." His eyes stayed on the platform, but his tone became quieter. "And your pull was cleaner. His form looks like shit. You were perfect."

The breath Petra tried to take stuttered. A shiver ran up her skin and pooled somewhere deep and warm, stubbornly refusing to go away.

Levi had guessed wrong. Franz didn't end up at the bottom of his division. But he wasn't close to bronze either. And they watch him stump away with a frustrated scowl. Meanwhile, Petra saw Oluo in the distance, actually ignoring Franz this time and not following him around like a puppy for once.

When the meet finally ended, they said their goodbyes to the younger three, although Levi still pulled Eren aside one last time to tell him – order him, really – to actually take a break from the gym for once. Then Levi and Petra walked out of the gymnasium hand-in-hand, only separating when they reached his car so she could slip into the passenger seat.

The drive was mostly quiet. Petra gave a few directions to the apartment, and Levi responded with short acknowledgments, eyes on the road. Outside, the sky was a sheet of gray that made the afternoon look later than it was.

By the time he pulled up to the curb of Nifa's apartment complex, rain had started to fall, soft at first, then steadier, tapping against the windshield in quick little beats.

"There's an umbrella in the glove box," Levi said, flipping his hazards on. "You can return it tomorrow night."

Petra pulled out the black foldable umbrella, fiddled with the clasp, then looked at him instead of immediately unbuckling her seatbelt. "You know… I could still go to the gym later."

Levi's brows furrowed, though his gaze stayed soft. "It's your rest day."

"Well, yeah," she said, shifting in her seat. "But I could move it to the next evening."

"No." His voice was flat, then he sighed tiredly. "Your sleep schedule's already messed up from being up all morning. And you've had a long day." His eyes flicked to the rain outside, frown deepening as it picked up. "Besides, you're not riding your bike in this."

Petra watched the rain for a moment, the drops streaking faster down the glass. She wanted to argue, not because he was wrong, but because she didn't want the day to end yet. Still, the confrontation with Franz had taken more out of her than she'd admitted, and she felt the exhaustion of the day deep in her bones.

"All right," she said softly, turning back to Levi with a small smile while removing her seatbelt. "I'll see you tomorrow night then."

Levi nodded, slowly, eyes locked on hers.

Petra reached for the door handle...

...and froze when Levi's hand landed solidly on her thigh.

She turned back just as Levi leaned across the center console. His other hand left the wheel and slid into her copper hair, fingers curling at the back of her neck as he pulled her closer to claim her lips.

Petra made a small sound of surprise, and then she was kissing him back, hard and immediate.

Outside, the rain fell harder. The windows began to fog at the edges.

Inside, it was all warmth and breath and the steady pressure of his hand at her neck. Petra's world narrowing down to the taste of him.

His kiss deepened again, and Petra felt it in the way her chest tightened, in the way her hands found his undercut, fingers grazing the rough texture. There was a desperation in him she hadn't expected, but it was still edged with control.

When they finally broke for air, it wasn't by much. Their foreheads rested together again. Petra found she liked this feeling as much as she liked to kiss him. Just the feel of his skin tenderly pressed against hers, holding on to her like she was something precious to him.

Levi's thumb traced along her warm cheek in a slow motion before finally pulling back just far enough to look at her.

"See you tomorrow night," he murmured, voice low like a reminder he didn't want either of them to forget. His thumb swept her cheek once more before he let her go.

Petra's smile came wide and helpless against her flushed face. "Tomorrow night," she echoed.

And only then did she finally step out into the rain, umbrella snapping open above her as she glanced back one last time at him through the dark tint of the passenger window. And she thought she saw him grace her again with another small smile.

For some reason, Levi had managed to pull a 305 kg deadlift tonight.

He stared down at the loaded bar from where he sat on an incline bench by the platform, silently wondering what the hell had possessed him to stack that much weight in the first place. It had been a while since he'd touched the 300s again, and the fact that he'd managed to drag that much steel up his legs had left him in an almost speechless state.

And he still wasn't tired. He had enough left in him for another rep.

Now the only thing stopping him was the question of whether he should slap a pair of tiny 2.5-kilo plates onto each side and bring the bar to 310 – his old PR. The one he hadn't managed to pull again since the last time he stepped onto a meet platform not as a coach, but as a competitor.

Still, he sat there, debating whether the bar would even budge with that extra five kilos. Debating whether it would matter at all if he managed a clean pull or not.

"You always tell me not to do this for other people or to prove a point. That I should do it for 'me.' So… don't you want to impress yourself again?"

Petra's words from way back drifted through his head.

Did he really want to impress himself again?

Yesterday at the meet, the only reason that little bitch Franz didn't follow through on his challenge was that someone recognized Levi as that short powerlifter from five years ago who'd once posted the heaviest recorded pull in town – a number Levi himself hadn't even tried to chase in years. And though he still believed he could've folded the bastard without reaching even half his old bests (if his performance yesterday was any indication), it had gotten him thinking about Petra's words again.

The clock had just struck midnight, but the gym was empty before his shift even started. No surprise there. The rain outside had been pounding nonstop since yesterday afternoon, and nobody in their right mind bothered with a late-night workout in weather like this. Especially after Hange mentioned the forecast was warning of a storm surge through the evening.

Outside, rain and wind battered the few glass windows hard enough to make them rattle in their frames. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled low and heavy, but loud enough that Levi almost missed the chime of his phone.

He dragged his eyes away from the deadlift bar he'd been glaring at for the better part of half an hour and reached for the phone on the bench beside him.

A message from Erwin.

Close the gym for now. Weather doesn't look like it's letting up. Might lead to a power outage later.

It was one of the rare times they actually closed. Other than important out-of-town meetings or the quarterly professional deep-clean schedules Levi had demanded from the beginning, Scout 24/7 stayed open no matter what. But bad weather was one of the few exceptions after that snowstorm incident in their first year, when several members ended up stranded inside for hours. Since then, the three of them had agreed to shut things down early when conditions got dangerous and notify everyone for their own safety.

Levi pushed himself up, about to head for the office computer and send out their pre-set emergency notice, when his phone chimed again. Another message popped up in Erwin's thread.

Already sent an emergency e-mail to all members 30 min. ago.

Levi stopped mid-step. How convenient. Of course Erwin had already taken care of it.

Still, he swiped open his chat with Petra and typed out a quick message telling her not to come in because of the storm. The thought of not seeing her tonight left a small, annoying disappointment in his chest. But he'd sleep easier knowing she wasn't out in this god-awful weather on that bike of hers.

He continued toward the front, intending to grab the bolt lock on the double doors. He'd still be staying behind to finish his own training. Even if the gym was officially closed to members, he lived two floors above it and could use the place whenever the hell he wanted. At least while the power was still held.

He reached the front doors, looped the chain through both handles, and bolted them shut from the inside. Then he exhaled, tired somehow, and turned back toward the platforms, already resigned to spending another half hour arguing with himself over whether to go for 310 or scrap it and just do a few accessories before cleaning the place.

Then a loud bang slammed against the front door.

The force of it made one of the double doors jerk inwards before the bolt caught and stopped it.

Levi turned sharply, head tilting.

The door shuddered again. Someone is pushing on it hard despite the lock.

He strode toward it with a scowl, already irritated at whoever was stupid enough to come out in this weather. But when he looked through the glass, he was met with the familiar sight of Petra staring back at him from the other side, hair soaked and clinging to her face.

He fished the keys from the pocket of his shorts, unlatched the bolt, and yanked the chain free.

"Petra, what the hell?" he snapped as he pulled the door open.

Wind howled the moment the gap widened, rain hissing across the threshold before the sound dulled again when he hauled her inside and slammed the door shut, bolting it back into place.

Petra stood beside him, drenched from head to toe. Helmet hooked on one arm, gym bag over the other. Both were just as soaked. At least she'd worn that black waterproof tracksuit she always insisted on using whenever it drizzled. But this wasn't exactly a drizzle. Maybe the clothes under the suit were dry, but her hair definitely wasn't.

He turned to her and scowled at the miserable state she was in, water dripping from her hair onto the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Didn't you get the email?" he grumbled.

He'd sent her that text only a few minutes ago, so she was probably already on the road by then. But Erwin had said the emergency notice went out half an hour earlier, which was more than enough time for Petra to have seen it before leaving.

She blinked at him and lowered her helmet to the floor by her boots. "What email?"

"The emergency notice," he repeated flatly.

Petra frowned, then reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, thankfully still dry. She swiped through the screen with damp fingers, scrolling through messages and emails until she found it.

"Oh," she said after a second. "I didn't see this earlier."

Levi let out a slow, irritated sigh through his nose.

"Well, it's pointless now," he said. "You're already here." He uncrossed his arms and jerked his chin toward the front. "I can drive you home after you change into something dry. You can pick up your bike when the weather calms down."

But Petra barely seemed to hear him.

Her attention had shifted past him, toward the deadlift platform still sitting loaded under the low lights he'd left on.

She turned fully, eyes narrowing for half a second as she counted the plates from where she stood. Then she looked back at him.

"Is that a 300 bar?"

Levi raised a brow at that, impressed that she managed to sum it all up by just looking. Then again, after months of training, she could almost easily identify plate weights by their sizes and colors at a glance now.

"It's 305," he corrected, mildly annoyed. "Managed to pull that one earlier."

That only made her eyes widen, excitement flashing so brightly across her face that it nearly threw him off.

"Are you going to attempt your PR?"

The question quieted him.

He glanced toward the platform, jaw tightening.

"I don't know," he said after a beat, voice lower. "I was thinking about it earlier. But I might just leave it at 305 tonight."

Petra stared at him for all of half a second before her entire face lit up. "No, you should absolutely try. I mean, you already loaded the bar that high," she shot back at once, stepping closer. "Which means some part of you wants to do it."

"That part of me is stupid, Pet."

Petra ignored that completely. "Come on, Levi. Just give it a try."

He opened his mouth to snap something back, then stopped.

Because Petra was looking at him with a kind of eager brightness he'd only see from her when she was glowing with happiness. Just like when he had accepted to help her train, or when she successfully pulled her 110 kg deadlift PR.

Now she wants him to pull his PR. In front of her.

He clicked his tongue and muttered, "I'm not doing it to impress you."

"I'm not asking you to," she said. "I'm telling you to pull it because I know you can."

The smile stretching across her face was so open and pleased that it caught him off guard badly enough that he had to look away.

Levi pulled a deep inhale, held it for a bit, and then let out a long sigh. "Tch. Fine."

Her grin widened immediately.

Before she could take a step onto the turf, Levi called after her, voice sharp again. "Hold it."

She turned.

"You're still dripping all over the place," he said, glaring at the water already pooling by her boots. "Change out of that tracksuit and get those muddy things off first. I'm not letting you trail storm water across my gym."

That made her laugh softly, shaking her head like she expected nothing less from him.

"Yes, Coach."

"I'm not your coach."

Still smiling, Petra gathered her things and headed for the locker area, leaving a faint trail of droplets behind her.

Levi watched her disappear around the corner before slowly turning back toward the platform.

Then he made his way to the incline bench again and dropped onto it, slumping back just enough to stare at the loaded bar once more.

Three hundred and five kilos sat there in perfect, brutal silence.

All he had to do was add another five.

But Levi stayed where he was, glaring at the bar like it had personally insulted him. Maybe it had. Every attempt he'd made over the years had ended the same way, with him straining like hell just to get the damn thing an inch off the floor before failing. He still couldn't remember what had gotten into him to pull it the first time in his last meet. He only remembered shutting out the crowd, bracing, and yanking. He'd thought it was just a flat 300 when he made the attempt, and it had somehow felt lighter than expected. He only found out afterward that he'd beaten his old max by ten kilos when Hange threw themself at him with a scream, Erwin ruffled his hair, and the whole crowd exploded in applause.

He didn't know how long he sat there, stuck in his own head. Eventually, though, he caught movement in his periphery and saw Petra emerge from the locker area, heading toward the deadlift zone.

That was enough to make him look.

It wasn't like he wasn't used to seeing her in gym attire. But since that first kiss, and the far less innocent make-out sessions that followed in that side room at the gymnasium and later in his car, it had gotten harder and harder to look at her like she was something harmless.

Because there she was, stopping beside the bar he'd been dreading all night, wearing one of those sports bras that wasn't the halter kind – the type he secretly preferred on her because it showed the clean contours of her back. But this one was turquoise in color, pushing up her chest, with a zipper down the front. She'd paired it with tight shorts of the same hue, the ones with the ruched seam down the back that made her already full ass look even fuller.

Levi inhaled sharply.

Then, he immediately looked back at the bar.

Better the bar than her right now.

Better the bar because she's too fucking hot.

And the last thing he needed before attempting a stupidly heavy deadlift was to get a damn boner.

"You'll need two-point-fives on each side, right?" he heard her ask as she hinged lower to inspect the already loaded plates.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he muttered, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees, still glowering at the steel in front of him and the fact that his girlfriend (they dated only once, so can he even call her that now?) was bent over in front of him, displaying those perked up glutes.

Still in his periphery, he watched Petra cross into the dimmer end of the gym where the lighter plates were racked. She came back with a brisk stride, a small plate in each hand. When she reached the platform, she crouched and slid one onto the sleeve, snapped the collar back in place, then moved to the other side and did the same.

"There." She straightened with a small stretch through her back, then bounced once on her feet and turned to him with an excited smile. "That's 310 kilos." Her amber eyes lit up. "Whenever you're ready."

Levi finally looked at her face.

Her smile was bright. Full of trust, support, and an almost childish excitement that sat warm and unwavering in those honey eyes. He held there a second too long, enough for something in his chest to tighten.

"I'm telling you to pull it because I know you can."

It's funny. For the past couple of months, Levi has been giving words like that to Petra herself every single time she starts doubting her own strength. And yet when the same words are thrown back at him, he is stuck in doubt, when he knows he shouldn't.

At the very start, Petra had looked at him in admiration at what he was capable of doing, enough to find the courage to seek out his help for something she had longed to attain for herself. She had seen and heard what he could do, and the quiet confidence he exuded with his own strength, and that had been the catalyst for her striving to better herself – to return that self-confidence that had been broken down by the wrong man for so long. And she did. He could see in her eager smile how she had found herself again. How she managed to impress herself. He was only there to poke and prod her into that direction, and now she was here, doing the same thing to him.

"Don't you want to impress yourself again?"

Levi made up his mind.

He exhaled through his nose, pushed himself to his feet, and stripped off the hoodie he'd been wearing, tossing it over the bench. Underneath was his black tank top, the fabric clinging to the hard lines of his torso. He reached for his belt, where it had been slung over the incline bench, then grabbed his straps and looped them around his wrists with practiced efficiency.

Petra stepped a few paces off to the side, out of his path, patient and silent now as she watched him approach the platform.

Levi set his feet under the bar in a conventional stance. Hip-width. Toes just slightly turned out. Shins nearly touching steel.

And then he just stared at it. For close to a minute, maybe. Long enough that the rain hammering outside and the low growl of thunder seemed to fade into something distant and irrelevant.

He dragged in one deep breath, expanding hard into his torso as he locked the belt around his waist. Core braced. He folded at the hips, reached down, wrapped his straps tight around the knurling quickly, and fixed his grip. Lats engaged. Back set. Chest lifted.

For one sharp, clean second, everything else blurred out. He didn't even think of Petra's face. Only her words in his head.

"Don't you want to impress yourself again?"

…Yeah.

He pulled.

The bar didn't fly.

It broke from the floor by inches, no more than two at first, and stalled there in a brutal, grinding pause that made every tendon in his body feel like it was straining at the seam. Levi's jaw clenched. His legs trembled. The plates bent the bar in a shallow arc under the sheer weight of it.

Then it moved.

Slowly. Agonizingly. Steel scraped hard up his shins as he kept dragging it higher.

The bar rose past the lower line of his calves, then crept toward his knees. Every inch demanded another brutal second of force. Somewhere in the room, through the rush of blood pounding in his ears, he thought he heard Petra cheering. He couldn't make out the words, only the shape of her voice, bright and urgent and enough to keep him from dropping the damn thing then and there.

So he kept pulling. Pulled until the bar passed his knees, and only then did he drive his hips through, shaking now, every muscle in his legs and back fighting to finish what he started. His palms were already burning from where the knurling pressed against his skin. The bar slowed again, high on his thighs, but it didn't stop. Levi forced one final surge through his hips and stood tall.

And then...

...Lockout.

He'd done it.

Three hundred and ten kilograms.

And he held it there for three hard seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then he let it go.

The bar crashed to the platform with a thunderous rattle that went along with a loud roar of thunder from outside.

The plates slammed and bounced against the mat loudly. And by some odd timing, the power had finally gone out, just as Erwin had predicted would happen as a result of this crazy weather. This crazy evening.

The gym was bathed in darkness for only a few seconds before the emergency LED lights Hange had added to a few corners of the gym automatically switched on. The lumen of those lamps wasn't very high, but they were enough to make things visible under a pale bluish-white glow.

Levi stepped back, breathing hard, the world tilting just slightly under his feet. His hand fumbled at the clasp of his belt before finally unlatching it. When it came loose, he let the belt drop to the floor with a dull smack, followed by his straps after he shook them off his wrists.

He stood there panting, chest heaving, eyes locked on the bar in something close to disbelief.

He actually did it.

Again.

After five fucking years.

"Levi," he heard Petra call out, her voice breathy as if she spoke his name between gasps. "You did it."

He was still a little unsteady when he turned to her, his blood pressure not quite settled yet. But Petra had already rushed to his side, a bounce in every step, and latched onto his left arm to help steady him.

He felt the warmth of her pressed against his side. Felt her fingers circle his forearm, gripping the muscle still pumped from the strain of the pull.

She looked like she was glowing, even under the low LED lights.

"That was so cool!" Petra beamed, tugging at his arm as her grin stretched wider. "You really did it again, Levi. I can't believe it. I'm so proud of you, babe."

Levi stopped breathing hard and blinked. Once. Twice.

A few seconds later, Petra's smile faltered too.

He stared at her, his eyes still as wide as they'd been the moment he realized he'd actually pulled the weight. Only now they were wide for an entirely different reason.

Then his mouth tightened, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Did you… Just call me babe? Like… baby?" he muttered, slow and careful, like he was testing the shape of the word in his mouth.

Petra eased back just enough to fully catch his expression, her brows furrowing with sudden worry. "Um… I guess so." She blinked, then tilted her head in that way of hers that was almost unfairly endearing. "I mean… didn't you call me that too?"

"Down, baby."

Levi swallowed. His sharp eyes softened by a fraction.

Then Petra leaned into his arm again, slow this time, pressing close enough that the side of her chest brushed his bicep. The top curve of her breasts lifted higher against her sports bra.

She tipped her chin up at him. Her eyelids lowered a little, the whole of her face softening as her lips parted on a quiet breath. Her cheeks were flushed, obvious even in the pale light.

"You… don't want me to call you that?" she asked softly. "Baby?"

Holy shit.

Levi pulled his arm out of her hold so suddenly that Petra blinked, startled.

But it wasn't rejection.

He only moved so he could slide that same arm around her waist and pull her against him, closing the distance in one firm motion to slot his mouth over hers.

Petra made that soft, pleased sound he was quickly learning to crave whenever he kissed her, and it turned breathier when the tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips in silent permission, until she parted for him at last.

And then he kissed her deeper, his tongue tasting the faint trace of the tea she'd had earlier still lingering on her mouth.

Levi pulled her closer than he thought was ever possible as her strong arms slid up his shoulders and locked around his neck. A strained sound escaped him when she ran her fingers from the back of his neck – still sleek with his sweat – to his undercut and through his hair.

And he did the same, his other hand sliding up her spine, his fingers pressed to her skin to feel every bump and indent on her flexed back muscles as she clung to him. Meanwhile, the hand that had been holding her steady by the waist slid lower. His palm was feeling the delicious curve of her lower back and the gloriously firm ass that had managed to drive an impressive 110 bar up so cleanly.

Now, he wants those same hips to drive against his dick. Already up and solid and straining in his loose gym shorts with all the pent-up testosterone he had built from that heavy lift.

He settled his fingers low and gave one of her ass cheeks a good squeeze.

And Petra let out another sound, one loud enough for him to catch even over the rain hammering against the windows. It came from deep in her chest, rose up her throat, and slipped out as a beautiful moan meant only for him.

He lifted her with the one hand already firm at her hip, and she wrapped her legs around his waist at once, like she'd been waiting for him to do exactly that.

He cracked one eye open to catch the faint outline of them in the wall-length mirror to his right. Then, moving with slow, controlled steps, he backed them toward the incline bench until he was close enough to drop down. He let himself settle against the incline, drawing Petra with him so she ended up straddling his lap. The heat of him pressed snugly between her thighs.

Petra had pulled back from his lips enough to see themselves in a suddenly new position. She was still breathing heavily as she looked down at him, speechless.

Levi was looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, admiring the flush that spread from her face, neck, and collar. Watching the way her amber eyes darkened, her pupils blown from the dimness of the gym, and something else.

And then…

…Petra started to move.

Her hips rolled against his, just like back in that dark, warm-up room in the gymnasium. Only this time, the fabric of their gym clothes was much thinner compared to the fabric of the dark denim jeans he wore during their date. And Levi's breath caught when he could very much feel the faint shape of her between her legs. Feel the searing heat of her sliding up the outline of his cock beneath the material of his shorts.

His hand came up the side of her face, his thumb caressing her blushing cheeks for a moment while she continued to stare down at him, puffing out breaths like she was running the treadmill, except she was riding him slowly, building a delicious friction between them.

His fingers climbed higher on her face, fingers combing through the sides of her hair. Her copper strands were still damp from driving in the rain.

Levi let out sharp exhales as Petra continued to roll against him, a fraction faster than before. His brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched at the sensation of it all, spurred on by the sight of her above him. His eyes took in the view of the intoxicated look on her face, down to the sheen of sweat forming on the top of her breasts, down to the outline of her defined abs, and then on her hips. The fingers of his hand, still on her ass, stilled when his eyes landed on the sight of a dark patch on the gusset of her turquoise shorts as it slid against the tent in his crotch.

She's so wet for him.

And he's so hard for her.

And he wants so much more.

More of her.

Levi pulled himself up slightly so his lips were just a breath away from hers.

His groan rumbled deep in his chest.

"Fuck." He squeezed her hips. "You're so fucking hot."

He crashed his lips back to hers, eliciting another moan from her as he joined her in rolling his hips upward to help build the heat burning between them.

Petra shut her eyes, breath shuddering, as he trailed his lips and tongue from her lips to her jaw and down the column of her neck.

They continued their slow dance on that incline bench, even as his lips descended lower, kissing the plump mounds on her chest, strained by her bra. He tasted the salt on the beads of sweat forming there, before he widened his mouth and bit the flesh, gentle but still hard enough that he's sure it'll leave a slight imprint of his teeth.

Petra let out a sonorous sound at that, suddenly becoming still against him. One of her hands gripped his firm, rounded shoulders. Her other hand was somehow beneath his tank top, sliding up to his chest.

"L-Levi…" she breathed out his name beautifully.

She was still motionless as she opened her eyes to look down at him. Levi's face was still pressed to her chest. He pressed the sharp bridge of his nose on her cleavage, taking in her scent. But he also stilled and flicked his darkened eyes up at her.

"Y-you said…" Petra started softly, breath still uneven. "You were up for hours the other night. Thinking about… what I can do. To you."

Levi blinked up at her, still half-lost in the warmth of her, trying to read where she was going with that.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

Petra caught her lower lip between her teeth for a second, nerves and boldness warring in her face before she finally breathed, "Tell me… what you thought I'd do to you."

That did something to him.

Levi straightened, pushing himself up from the incline. The shift made Petra draw her hips back from his lap, settling more fully over his thighs as she sat up too, bringing their faces level.

The hand tangled in her hair slid down to cradle her jaw instead, thumb brushing lightly along her cheek.

His other hand found hers beneath his tank top and, slowly, guided it lower. Past the ridges of his stomach. Down to the heat and hardness gathered low at his waist, where he held it there, firmly, to let her feel exactly what she did to him.

His thumb traced slowly over her lower lip, still swollen from his kisses.

Then, with his mouth only a breath from hers, he whispered...

"Down, baby."

And after a heartbeat, she did.

She lifted herself from his lap and rose to stand in front of him, feet planted firmly on the floor. Then, slowly, she lowered herself again. First with the controlled descent of a weightless squat, until her knees met the rubber-matted floor before the bench.

Petra settled there in front of him, low and close, her gaze never once leaving his. The whole time, those darkened amber eyes stayed locked on him, soft and unwavering.

And Levi kept watching her in return, his breathing controlled, but heavier now, each measured breath carrying signs of restraint.

Her hand was still planted over his groin, and slowly her fingers inched up to the waistband of his black shorts, her nails scratching his skin as it dipped beneath the elastic of both his gym wear and his underwear.

Then she tugged it down.

His hardened cock sprang free from its confines, and Levi hissed out loud when the cool air of the room touched it. Then he shuddered when what followed next was Petra's warm breath so close to his sensitive skin.

Petra paused for a moment to just stare at the length of him. It made a corner of Levi's lips twitch up slightly at how she looked slightly intimidated at the sight. He wasn't exactly packing anything. He'd count himself lucky to be above average, though he's surprised to see himself looking a tad bigger than usual – Rock hard and heavy at just the mere fact that Petra is here before him, already biting her lower lip while her eyes skimmed the entire ridge and width of him.

Her fingers feathered against the heated skin from the base and then up towards the head, making him release a gasp.

And then, he watches – with utmost fascination and admiration – as Petra locks eyes with him, circles her strong yet delicate fingers around the base of him, and presses her moistened, parted lips on the tip.

He growled low in his chest, his hand flying up and lightly combing through her damp copper crown. He doesn't push her down, though; he lets his hand stay there on the back of her head like an anchor while she eases herself lower, taking as much of him into her warm, inviting mouth.

Levi leaned back when she began a slow rhythm, sliding the head of his cock and a few inches beneath it through her lips, then sliding it out, and repeating. He could feel her tongue, flat and wet and hot against the ridge, and his breath caught in his throat as he desperately held himself back from just thrusting his hips upward to chase more of the pleasure.

But then Petra loosened her jaw, angled her head lower, and took in more of him with a long sigh that resembled a cat's purr. The vibrations it made against his cock were felt like a tremor even up to his spine.

"Fuck. That's it, Pet," he hissed, letting his head fall back against the incline. "Good girl."

The sound she made in response came out strangled and soft, like it had been pulled from somewhere deep in her chest before she could stop it.

Levi looked down at her at once.

The flush across her skin had deepened. Her breathing had turned quicker, shakier. He caught the way she went still for half a beat, then melted further, like the words had gone straight through her and left a shiver in their wake.

Oh.

She liked that.

He swallowed hard.

"Petra…"

She slowed, opened her eyes, and looked up at him.

"…Stop."

She blinked, but froze. Her swollen lips hovered over his swollen head, glistening with her saliva.

He exhaled a shuddering breath at the sight.

"…Levi?" she whispered in a slightly rough tone.

He immediately leaned forward, one hand coming down to tilt her face up toward him.

"Get up," he said, quieter now.

She tilted her head at him, confused, but obliged. She slowly rose to her feet.

And while she did, Levi tucked himself back in his pants, hating the sudden loss of her warmth.

But he needed to do this.

Needed her to hear him.

He pushed himself off the bench just as she straightened. The anxious look that crossed her flushed face made something in his chest drop.

"Did… did I do something wrong?" she asked, voice small enough to be a whimper.

Levi shook his head at once and stepped in close, both hands cupping her jaw, his nose brushing hers.

"No," he murmured quickly. "No. Nothing's wrong." His mouth hovered near hers, words whispered on her lips. "You did nothing wrong. You… you were perfect."

Her breath caught so sharply he felt it.

Levi kept his hands on her face, forehead pressed to hers, and this time he didn't hold anything back.

"You're always so damn eager," he whispered. "So focused. So stubborn." His eyes searched hers, watching every tiny reaction. "You work harder than anyone I know. You listen. You remember everything. You keep showing up, even when it's hard."

Petra's lashes fluttered. Her lips parted.

Levi went on, lower now, more of his heart with every word. A heart he always thought meant for no one, for so long in this world.

"You're stronger than you think. Smarter than you give yourself credit for. Kinder than people deserve." His thumbs traced slow, grounding lines over her skin. "And you're so fucking beautiful, Pet. Every time I look at you, it's like you kick the breath right out of me."

He saw a tremor run through her. Saw the way each word sank into her, the way the praise softened her, lit her up from the inside.

And now that he knew – now that he understood what his voice did to her, he leaned closer and let it happen.

"I love how you look at me," he confessed, unguarded. "Love the way you trust me. Love the way you fight for every damn rep. Love that you still blush when I tell you the truth."

Petra made a soft sound, almost a whimper, and his jaw tightened with restraint.

"I want you," he said, leaning against her further. "All of you. Your mouth. Your hands. Your body. Your heart. I want every part you'll let me have." His breath shuddered once. "I want to take my time with you. I want to make you feel exactly how wanted you are. I want to fuck you senseless because you drive me insane."

He's talking too much, more than he ever thought he would in a day, or to anyone.

But he wants her to know it all.

She deserves it. She deserves to hear all of it.

Her hands clutched at his shirt. Small fingers trembling over the frantic beating of his heart.

"Then take me," she whispered against his lips.

That nearly snapped whatever control he had left.

"I–" Levi closed his eyes for one hard second.

When he opened them, he gave a strained huff.

His hand slid from her jaw to the back of her neck, holding her there.

"…I'm not fucking you in my gym."

For one stunned beat, Petra just stared at him.

He made a strained grumble as he pulled back. Frustrated in every sense of the word. But he really doesn't want this to be a meaningless fuck in a public place, even though they were technically closed and only the two of them were standing here in the dim space. Petra deserves better than that.

He looks at her again, noticing that she was now wearing a sheepish smile on her flushed and pretty face. A look of understanding and amusement in her eyes.

God damn. He's a goner. He's way in too deep already.

He leaned down and kissed her. Slow and sure but maddeningly brief.

"Stay with me tonight," he muttered.

Her smile widened, and she leaned back in to touch her lips against his. A quick but lingering press.

"I'm already here," she whispered back.

"That's good." He mumbled, then he pulled back enough to look at her and added, "Now help me unrack this bar."

Petra, despite the heat still burning between them, let a breathless laugh escape her.

"Stop laughing and hurry up," he ordered, though he couldn't quite hide the smirk tugging at his mouth.

She let out another laugh anyway.

Levi set both hands on her shoulders, turned her around so she faced one end of the bar, and gave her a light shove toward the platform. "Come on. The sooner we get this shit done, the faster I can get you upstairs and have my way with you."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, grin still bright and flushed. "You're so romantic, baby."

He clicked his tongue, smile only widening. "Shut up, baby."

Petra laughed again and crouched at one end of the bar. She popped the collar off and set it aside, then wrapped both hands around the smallest outer plate, ready to slide it free.

And then she stopped.

"What now?" Levi asked, still on his way around the platform.

Petra didn't answer right away.

She stayed still, staring at the plate in her hands, then at the thicker stack still mounted behind it, her brows pinched as if she were thinking hard.

Levi frowned. "Petra."

Still, she hesitated, eyes moving between the plate and the rest of the bar.

"Petra," he said again, sharper. "What's wrong?"

She looked up slowly, expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. "I… don't know if this is a bad mistake or a really good one."

That did not help.

Levi straightened, irritation and curiosity mixing as he crossed toward her side. Petra rose too, holding out the small plate for him to see.

He squinted down at it in the pale light.

Then his eyes found the stamped number.

5 KG

Levi went still.

Without a word, he bent and checked the matching small plate still mounted on his end of the bar.

5 KG

Not 2.5 KG.

"I think…I grabbed the wrong ones earlier." Petra winced a little, already talking fast. "I mean, the lights were off in that corner, and they're both the same size and color. I didn't notice... Maybe I was just too excited that I didn't notice how heavy they were. I swear I didn't do it on purpose." A tiny, helpless smile twitched at her mouth. "I guess it was a... happy accident?"

Levi stared at the plate in her hand.

Then he looked back at her, stunned.

"You mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that I just pulled three hundred and fucking fifteen?"

Petra let out a strained laugh, still half in shock herself. "Uhm... Looks like it." Then she smiles up at him sheepishly. "Congrats, Levi. You just made a new PR."

Levi just stared.

No movement. No blink. He held his breath so long that Petra must be wondering if he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Then, out of nowhere, a low, slow laugh left him.

Petra froze.

She never heard him laugh before.

He never heard himself laugh for a long ass time.

But it left him like a breath of fresh air.

It didn't last too long, though. It slowly faded in the air around them until all they could hear was the muffled sound of the rain still pouring outside.

Then Levi shook his head once and muttered, almost to himself, "Okay."

"Okay?" Petra repeated with a confused blink. "Wha–?"

Before she could finish her question, Levi plucked the 5-kilo plate from her hands, let it drop with a loud clatter beside the platform…

… and then grabbed her.

He hooked one arm around her middle, and in the next second, Petra was off the floor and tipped cleanly over his shoulder.

"Levi!" she yelped, genuinely startled, hands instinctively bracing against his back. "What are you doing!?"

He adjusted her weight like it was the most natural thing in the world and started striding for the emergency exit. "Going upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"To my flat."

"What?"

"Yes."

"What about the bar?"

"I'll rerack it later."

He pushed the back door open, leading to the set of stairs that he always took to get to and from the gym. The narrow space was also lit by emergency guide lights along each corner of the landings, casting enough pale light so he'd be able to watch his steps while he carried his new girlfriend over his shoulder like a duffel bag.

Petra twisted enough to look at his upside-down profile. "Levi–"

"You loaded the wrong plates." He cut her off, emphasizing the mistake with a slap on her ass. He delighted in the way her breath hitched sharply at that.

"That was an accident," she said, tightening her grip on the back of his tank top.

"Best fucking accident you've made so far."

He could hear the laughter in her voice. "Can you at least put me down? I do have legs."

"No." He climbed another step, and another. Then, dry as ever, he added, "I've got a better use for those legs of yours."

…

Levi didn't put her down even after they made it inside his apartment. He kicked the door shut behind him, toed off his trainers – clearly not caring for once that he'd worn his gym shoes outside the gym – and then, with one hand, tugged off Petra's shoes and socks while hitching her higher on his shoulder to keep his hold secure. She yelped at the bounce.

Then he strode down the dark hallway with Petra still laughing, half-draped upside down against his back.

"All my bloods in my head now," she complained between laughs as he shoved open the bedroom door.

"Won't be for long," he muttered, impatient.

He lifted her off his shoulder and dropped her onto the bed, where she landed on her back and bounced twice against the mattress.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows while Levi stood for a moment at the foot of the bed. Her golden eyes were half-lidded now, darkened with heat as she watched him strip off his tank top and toss it onto the chair nearby.

Petra has not seen him without a shirt on. Levi kept himself modestly covered most of the time, at least by gym attire standards. The most flesh she'd seen him in was when he wore that particular tank top with a pair of shorts.

Now that he had it off, she could see the outlines of his bare upper body even in the dark, where the only light source was the pale cast of what remained of the moonlight peeking out of the raining sky and seeping through the window of his bedroom. Still, it was enough for her to see him – all hard lines and old discipline. Broad shoulders, defined chest, arms, and torso carved by years of lifting heavy and living in that strain. Not showy muscle. Just dense, functional strength sitting clean beneath his skin. Faint veins stood out along his forearms, and the muscles in his stomach tightened and shifted when he moved.

Levi caught the way her gaze dragged slowly downward over him, unhurried, and something hot and pleased flickered low in his chest at being looked at like that.

Then he was over her, mouth on hers in an immediate, breath-stealing kiss, pressing her back into the sheets with all the impatience he'd been holding in.

Petra spread her thighs for him, letting him ground against her once more. But he was now becoming frustrated at the barrier of clothes between them.

He kissed and nipped his way down the line of her neck, moving lower while listening to every hitch and catch in Petra's breathing whenever his mouth lingered on her skin. The hand not keeping her anchored at the hip found the zipper at the front of her sports bra and tugged it down in one sharp motion.

He pulled back just enough to watch the tight material part at the seams, watching intensely as her breast spilled out. The bright pink flush along her collarbones had spread lower now, blooming across the soft curves of her skin.

Levi lowered his mouth to one of the supple flesh, bit and kissed around a tender nipple before taking it in his mouth while his rough palm kneaded the other. Petra gasped, her back arching against him, her hand gripping his hair almost painfully.

"You're so gorgeous," he muttered against her skin.

Petra whined low.

He drew back suddenly, scooting backwards until he sat on his haunches, pulling away from her warmth.

But he only did that so he'd have room to stretch out her legs, raising them by the ankles and then letting them rest on either of his shoulders, all so he could grab at the thick waistband of her shorts and peel the skin-tight fabric away from her thighs. He pulled them along with her seamless black thong, a sight that had pleased him at first, but he knew that it was just another hindrance to what he really wanted.

Petra saw her scrunched-up gym shorts and panties shoved aside, and then gasped when Levi lowered himself between her legs. He kissed slowly down one thigh, and her breath hitched every time he paused to let his teeth graze enough to startle her. Enough to make the muscle tense beneath his touch, her quads tightening hard under his hand.

"Your legs are fucking unreal," Levi muttered roughly, fingers closed around the firm line of her leg, squeezing once. "You keep building more muscle like these, and I'm not answering for what that does to me."

She squirmed. His lips were already inches away from her pussy, and now she was so desperate for some kind of friction after what he just said.

"Oh my god, Levi…" She squirmed. Her face can't get any redder than it already is. "W-why are you talking so much?"

It was a legitimate question. Because Levi really doesn't talk a lot. He's always been the quiet one.

But he knew now that his words had power over her and her body. He noticed it in the way she let out a loud, helpless sigh, suddenly shuddering beneath him after every compliment. Noticed it on how she clenches her legs – how utterly wet she gets between her thighs – with every praise that left his lips.

"Why not?" His voice was muffled against her supple flesh as he lowered even further, until Petra felt his next words breathed extremely close to her moistened lower lips. "You like it when I tell you this stuff, don't you?"

She pants. "W-what?"

Levi parts her legs further to kiss the inside of her thigh. He lowered his head enough that Petra could only see the top half of his face. His piercing blue eyes locked with hers. He was just a breath away from her core.

"When I tell you that you're strong." Another kiss to her thigh. "That you're sexy." A quick nip. "And so fucking hot enough to eat."

Petra moaned long and loudly when Levi ran his tongue flat and slow between her folds. Her hands immediately flew to his head to hold on to his silky black strands. Her grip was almost painful, but it only urged him on, sucking on her clit with wanton abandon.

The friction from their earlier desperation downstairs had left her oversensitive, the heat inside her already wound too tight, and Petra arched away from his mouth on a shaky breath. But the moment she tried to pull back, Levi let out a low, frustrated growl and caught her fast, arms hooking under her thighs and locking her in place, before he dragged her even closer to his face.

Petra saw stars behind her eyelids as her head tipped back against his pillows. Her breathing had gone uneven, her pulse wild and frantic in her chest. She was wound so tight it almost hurt, edging on to that unbearable, breathtaking high.

And then she felt Levi slide two fingers inside her, curling them up right where she wanted them to be. She'd imagined this exact scenario the other day. Imagined what his strong, calloused fingers felt like inside of her. It was even better than she ever thought.

Her climax tore through her all at once. A strangled, breathless whimper slipped from her parted lips as the pleasure hit hard, leaving her trembling.

Levi let her ride through the high, slowly pulling away from her to once again settle on his heels, his own breath catching, coming out in warm puffs of air from his parted, glistening lips.

He looked down at Petra sprawled across his bed in the dim moonlight. Naked and flushed from head to toe, chest rising and falling hard, every inch of her looking beautifully undone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was only the sound of their breathing and the rain outside – the storm weakening at last, the wind no longer battering the glass of his window.

Then Petra watched him slowly wipe her release from his chin with the back of his hand, his tongue sliding out for a quick swipe of it off his upper lip.

"You taste so damn good, baby," he whispered, sharp eyes locked with hers, unblinking.

And just like that, the heat inside her started burning all over again.

Petra pushed herself upright and reached for him, winding her arms around his neck before finding his lips once more. She tasted herself on his mouth, finding it intoxicating when mixed with his own scent and flavor.

The kiss turned deep and hungry at once, and she pulled him down with her until her back met the sheets again.

Levi went with her easily, settling over her body. His hands moved over her in slow, possessive sweeps, tracing the firm lines of muscle he had watched her build rep by rep, month by month. Every hard-earned inch of her felt familiar beneath his palms now, and he loves it. He loves all of it. Loves all of her.

Petra met him with a new kind of urgency, no longer shy beneath him. Her hands roamed across the hard planes of his back, clutching him closer, and Levi let out a low, rough sound against her mouth when he felt just how eager she'd become.

Her hands went lower, finding the waistband of his shorts. Almost impatiently, she pulled it down, even folding her legs high, ever so flexible, to use her toes to help pull it off his legs faster. Levi let out a low, amused chuckle against her skin, his mouth lingering at the hollow beneath her jaw.

Then Levi lifted his head, forcing himself to stop even as every part of him wanted to keep going. He held there over her, body taut with restraint.

For a moment, he did nothing but stay.

And Petra seemed to calm herself down so naturally, as if she had sensed his need to just be still. To just be together.

His forehead rested over hers. He liked this. He likes being close enough to feel her breath, to soak in her warmth, to simply look at her. To linger in her beauty, in the quiet pull of her presence, in the fact that she was here with him at all.

"Levi," she whispered, honey-gold eyes searching his face. "I want you."

He gave a single nod against her skin.

Then, to her surprise, he rolled off her.

Petra turned her head to follow him, confused, as Levi shifted toward the edge of the bed and reached for his bedside table. She heard a drawer slide open, then the quick, impatient shuffle of things being pushed around inside before it shut again. Another drawer opened. More rummaging. That one closed harder. Then a third.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Propped slightly on her elbows, Petra watched him with a raised brow.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice still rough.

"I'm looking–" He cut himself off, distracted by another search through the drawer.

"For what?" she asked, blinking.

"A fucking condom, Petra." He shoved another drawer shut and moved to the last one. Then, he mumbled, "Stupid Christmas present from Shitty-glasses."

Though if he was being honest, that had been two Christmases ago. And he hadn't been with anyone in years. He hadn't expected to be with anyone in years. There was a very real chance he'd thrown them out himself during one of his many cleaning sessions.

Still, there had to be at least one left. Somewhere.

"Levi," Petra called, flatteringly this time.

He squinted into the bottom drawer, still digging. "Give me a second."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not–"

"I'm on the pill."

The drawer slammed shut.

Levi turned so fast the mattress dipped beneath him.

And there she was behind him, propped on one elbow, hair mussed across the pillow, cheeks still flushed, a hand half-covering her mouth as she tried to hide an amused smile.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why the hell are you on the pill?" he asked, suspicious. "You've been single for months."

Petra's smile turned softer, but no less amused. She tucked a strand of ginger hair behind her ear and gave a small shrug. "I went back on it three months ago." Then, with a teasing little tilt of her head, she added, "Thought I'd need it again soon enough."

Levi just stared at her. The realization landed in his brain.

"You were that sure, huh?" he murmured, climbing back over here.

"Just really hopeful." Petra's grin widened as she tipped her chin up at him. Her smile turned shy at the edges, but she didn't look away. "You see, I was very attracted to my very grumpy, very handsome coach."

A low, deep chuckle broke out of him again, rough and warm and enough to make Petra's breath catch all over again.

He dipped closer, his mouth near the shell of her ear. "You don't have a coach," he said, voice husky.

Petra shivered at the sound of it. "Too bad," she whispered back, her breath brushing his skin. "Because I'd really like for him to fuck me right now."

He let out a low growl, the sound deep enough to vibrate pleasantly against her.

Then he kissed her hungrily, and before Petra could catch her breath, he had his hands on her hips and rolled them both in one swift, effortless motion until she was the one above him again, straddling his waist.

Panting and eager, she positioned herself over him, snaking a hand between them so that she holds his hard length steady to aim the head right between her moist lips.

Both of them shuddered as she sank into him slowly. Petra's lips parted in a silent gasp at the way he pleasantly stretched her.

Levi let her move at her own pace, even if it meant he had to clench his jaw hard. He braced his core the same way he would before a heavy lift, but less out of habit this time and more to keep himself steady through the strain of holding back.

And after what seemed like forever, she finally fully sheaths him.

But she didn't move yet, giving herself a moment to adjust to the size of him. She hasn't been this intimate with anyone for so long. And Levi was so thick. She felt so full.

And then, just as she was about to drive her hips, the dimness of his room was suddenly flooded in a bright amber light that came from the lamp on his bedside table – one he tended to leave on even when he was out of his flat.

The power's back.

"Perfect," Levi said, voice low and strained, a smirk tugging at his mouth as his eyes stayed fixed on her, on how the brighter light made her skin glow so heavenly. "Now I can see exactly how pretty you get for me."

And then he thrusts up once. A quick, light jerk of his hips, but it had been enough to make her cry out a soft moan. Enough to elicit a pleasant shock through his system.

Then Petra began a steady pace, just her hips rolling against him languidly as she bent forward, planting her hands on either his hard chest or his rounded shoulder.

"F-fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth, his hands on her thick thighs, fingers splayed out on the warm skin and pressing against the firm muscle underneath. Every move from her drew his cock halfway out of her cunt, only to be pulled back into her tight, velvety walls.

He dragged his palms along her hip as he guided her to increase the pace. "That's it," he crooned, "Just like that, baby. Let me see those strong thighs work."

She started driving her hips faster. Forward and back. Hinging her hips just the way he taught her. Chasing that building heat and pressure.

"You feel so good," he said hoarsely, head tilting back on his sheets, though he kept his eyes locked on her.

One hand left her thigh to roam the rest of her body, her skin shimmering with sweat, making it easy for his palms to slide up her waist and settle on her chest to knead on a tit, making her moan even louder.

"So beautiful," he said. And he felt her walls tighten around him almost immediately.

He began to meet her downward force, planting his feet flat on the mattress and then bucking up his own hips. The motion made her throw her head back, and the sight endeared Levi so much that he kept thrusting upwards, more and more. Until Petra stopped moving herself and just clung onto his shoulders while he pistoned up powerfully, burying himself inside her as deeply as he could.

"L-Levi – A-Ah!" Her moans came out in broken stutters, unable to have a moment to breathe properly with how well he was fucking her brains out. She's seen this man's routine on a regular leg day. He can rep hip thrusts more than thrice her weight. She literally watched him drive a 315 kg bar – by accident – up his thighs earlier. She, being on top of him, is a featherweight. His stamina alone will be enough to screw her stupid. And, oh, she'd let him. She'd let him fuck her raw and break her open, and she'd still come back for more.

He grabs her by the back of the neck and pulls her closer so he can give her a hard kiss.

Then moves to murmur into her ear, "Don't stop now, Pet. I know you're not tired yet."

He slowed the speed of his thrusts, and he delights in how she whined about it. But she was always so stubborn. Always up for the chase. And his slowing was enough to give her the chance to start bouncing on his cock again.

"That's my girl. Stay with it," he said when she finally managed to match his pace.

Then he went on to croon more wonderfully filthy things in her ear.

"You're pussy's taking me so well, baby. Shit. You are built so damn well. Look at you – So fucking perfect. So strong and so tight and absolutely wrecking me. Every god damn inch of you feels divine. You're driving me insane. Fucking incredible, baby."

Petra moaned, rendered dumb by his praise and that stupid little pet name. But it felt so good to hear, and he felt so good inside her. And it felt almost unbearably good to watch him watch her, to see that usually controlled face come undone as she moved above him, chasing the fire coiling tighter and tighter inside her, every shudder in her body pulling another rough word of admiration from his mouth.

Never in her life had she been so thoroughly, so honestly worshiped like this. Never by any man she'd even been with.

But Levi – likely the strongest person she had ever known – was beneath her now, looking up at her like she was the one with all the power.

It made her chest tighten, made her pulse race even harder, made every inch of her feel too warm, too wanted.

Her hands shook as they held onto him. Her breath came in broken, uneven pulls. But still she kept going, driven as much by the look in his eyes as by the molten pleasure winding through her.

"Levi… Baby," she said, "kiss me."

He rose to meet her at once, closing the distance and fusing his mouth over hers. Tongues and teeth clashing in a greedy exchange, until at last, the tension inside her wound itself too strong. Pleasure trapped in a lockout for so many seconds before finally exploding into a blinding euphoria. A white-hot wave that stole the breath from her lungs and left her trembling above him, every part of her shaking with it.

Yet she rode him still. Keeping that same motion as her walls wrapped him snug. And then she felt his cock pulse. Throbbing inside her. And Levi's hips stilled beneath her as he growled out her name between their kiss, spilling inside her in a shuddering release.

For a few long seconds, neither of them seemed capable of anything but breathing.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of it, ragged and uneven, while the rain outside had softened into a hush against the windows.

Petra sagged forward, boneless, and Levi caught her easily, both his strong arms wrapping around her before he drew her down with him onto the bed.

She went willingly, half-collapsing against his chest, their legs tangling in the sheets as he settled them onto their sides. One of his hands slid up her back in a slow, grounding stroke, the other resting heavy at her waist, keeping her close. He was still inside her, softening, yet content to be wrapped by her in every way possible.

Petra tucked herself into him, cheek pressed over the hard, damp rise and fall of his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat, still fast but gradually slowing down.

Levi tipped his face into her copper hair, breathing her in, his lips brushing once on her temple in a kiss so quiet it made her heart jump at how earnest it was.

She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were already on her, the usual storm-gray softened into a pale blue under the warm spill of light from the bedside lamp.

Then, at last, he spoke.

"Sounds weird."

She blinked up at him. "What does?"

"You calling me baby," he said flatly. "It's weird. I'm too old for that."

"You're only four years older than me."

"Still weird."

Petra snorted. "So… you can call me baby, but I can't call you that?"

"Suits you better, anyway."

She slapped a hand lightly against his chest. "I can't call you baby, and I can't call you coach."

"No."

"Then what? Just Levi?"

"Yeah."

She pouted up at him. "That seems unfair. I'm not allowed to give my boyfriend any terms of endearment?"

Levi shifted suddenly, rolling them so he was over her again.

He dipped down and kissed the pout right off her mouth.

And when he pulled back, his lips hovered just above hers.

"You can call me mine, if you want." His voice dropped lower. "I'm already yours anyway."

The words hit her all at once, and the blush that rushed into her face only made the smirk tugging at his mouth deepen.

He leaned in to kiss her again, slower this time, letting it linger until her breath turned soft and shaky.

But before he could draw away fully, Petra reached for him.

Her hands slid up his arms, then to his shoulders, and with more strength than he expected, she pushed him back down on the sheets just enough to make him look at her.

Levi stared at her with an amused look. "What?"

Petra's smile turned shy for half a second, then sharpened into something brighter. Bolder.

"I think," she said, "I'm not done with tonight's training."

She settled herself over him with deliberate slowness, dragging palms against the hard planes of his abs.

Levi gazed up at her with darkened eyes.

Then one dark brow lifted.

"Is that right?"

She nodded, the lips on her face curving as she dragged her hips, so her other pair of lips – still so warm and wet from their cum – could rut lightly against the base of his hardening dick.

"Gotta stay consistent, right, Coach?"

Levi huffed at that, but his hands were already finding her waist again, firm and warm. "I told you," he said, voice dropping, "I'm not your coach."

"No?"

"No." His grip tightened just slightly. "But I can still keep up."

Her grin widened.

"Good," she said softly. "Because I plan on doing a few more sets."

That earned her a teasing smirk. "And how many reps?"

"Hmm…" Petra tipped her head, amber eyes glowing. "AMRAP. We can take it to failure."

A rough laugh slipped out of him at that.

He loves her so damn much.

"All right, baby," he muttered, looking almost too pleased. Then he drew her in closer, mouth brushing hers as he added, low and sure, "Whenever you're ready."

For Levi, his day begins a little earlier than it used to.

The sight he'd open his eyes to would be the blinding light of noon, usually bright enough to make him frown at the world and groan his annoyance into the ceiling. He'd then turn to his side, facing the part of the bed that was away from the window to shield his face from the sun. The blackout curtains would already be drawn open, even if he remembered being the one to shut the blinds before going to bed.

Most of the time, he'd linger in his sheets for another ten or so minutes, one hand reaching out across the pillows to tangle his fingers in silky copper locks. Only then does he rise, pick up the clothes strewn on the corners of the bed, maybe slip on just his cotton pajamas, before heading to the kitchen to fix himself with his ritualistic first cup of black tea. He'd leave the kettle on warm and set another clean cup beside the tea tins, while he'd start plucking a bunch of items and ingredients from his cupboard and fridge based on a new list posted with a magnet on the door.

He'd take that piece of paper right after, wash his hands thoroughly, and start following through the meticulously outlined instructions written in that familiar, delicate cursive. Boil this. Dice that. Chop evenly. Mix those. Stir lightly. Add a few pinches to taste. He'd sometimes pause to glance back at the note, making sure he understood what was meant, before returning to doing exactly what was written.

He'd be almost done by the time she rises, often yawning loudly as she drags herself out of the bedroom wearing just his cotton shirt that looked a little too big on her frame. She'd pad into the kitchen, stretching her arms over her head, making the bottom edge of the shirt ride high. He'd tell her to put on some underwear while he concentrated on the stove, and she'd ignore it but would gravitate close behind him, where she'd lean her cheek against his bare, solid back and drowsily bask in his warmth… exactly like what she was doing right now.

"Good morning," she drawls, voice soft with traces of sleep.

"Afternoon," he says back flatly, both as a greeting and a correction, as he finally shuts off the range and lifts the lid off the frying pan, filling the kitchen space with a soft steam and a savory aroma. "We're out of cheese, by the way."

"Aww," she grumbles in mild disappointment, and though he could not see it, he could already hear her pouting. "I like it with cheese."

Levi shrugs as he shakes the cooked contents of the skillet – an assemblage of ground beef, zucchini slices, diced sweet potatoes, black beans, and bell peppers, all sauteed in a layer of avocado oil.

"Not my fault," he said as he scooped them out, transferring equal portions between two bowls lined by the stove. "I only follow what you wrote. If we don't have it, I won't add it. Besides," he turns his head enough to glance at her over his shoulder, "does it really need to have cheddar on it? There should be enough fat in the oil alone."

She made a long, contemplative hum. "Not really." She presses the side of her face further on his skin. "I just like it with cheese."

He lets out an amused huff as he returns his attention to the meal, where he garnishes the plate with chopped cilantro and showers it with a squeeze of lime, just as she had written in the note.

He turns halfway with the two bowls in each hand. He presents one to Petra, who finally pulls herself off him to take her bowl. She stares at the still steaming contents, prodding the meat and the greens with the accompanying spoon, as she takes a few steps back, stopping only when her lower back leaned against the edge of the island counter.

Levi mirrors her stance, leaning back on the counter by the stove just across her. He watches her scoop her meal, take a bite, and slowly chew her food with a thoughtful expression. Meanwhile, he reaches for his tea, lifting the cup by the rim to take a long sip.

She swallowed at last, then tipped her head up and gave him a small smile. "Not bad," she said, impressed, but followed it with a critique. "A little lacking on the seasoning, though. But overall, not bad."

"So, it's either 'not enough' or I put 'too much' seasoning then."

"Better to lack than you going too aggressive on it as usual, Levi."

"You'd know that, huh."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at him, but her smile remains wide on her face as she takes another scoop of the food into her mouth. Then she turns around, sets her bowl on the island, and leans over the counter to reach for the kettle, the tray with a selection of tea leaves, and her cup.

And Levi just stays rooted there on his spot by the stove, tilting his head to one side, his sharp eyes travelling lower to silently appreciate the sight of the bottom of her glutes peaking beneath the hem of his slightly wrinkled shirt, before he takes a spoonful of the ground pork meal he cooked into his mouth.

Petra still had her back to him, going through her meal and waiting for her tea to finish steeping.

"You know, my shoulders… they're still kinda sore." She rolls one shoulder slowly as if to emphasize it. "Is it ok if we move presses the next evening and just do a lower-body split tonight?" She leaned further over the island to reach for the salt shaker.

He raised his teacup again, eyes still very much glued to the shape of her ass and the highlights of well-defined hamstrings beneath milky skin. "Squats then?"

"Yeah." She seasons her plate lightly. "I think I can get that 120 kilos up tonight."

"You think?"

"You doubt me?"

He could hear the challenge in her voice. See the confidence in her every move.

Petra turned her head to look at him with a raised brow. She was still chewing food in her mouth, but her lips were stretched into a knowing smirk.

Levi glances up, watching now the beautiful amber sparks in her irises, and then smiles against his cup.

"Never could, baby," he said with a swell of pride and adoration.

And that's how his day begins now. To wake with her in his bed, with the midday sun warm on their bare skin. To the scent of that first cup of tea and whatever the hell Petra wanted him to learn to cook today. To banters and flirting while having brunch. To planning out the next block of workouts for later while doing the dishes. To tender, quiet moments where he showers her with love and admiration that may or may not lead to fucking her loudly in the shower.

Petra would get ready for work, leaving a little before 2 PM, and he would be sitting on the sofa, a chill playlist through his Bluetooth speakers, scrolling and scribbling through his clipboard and notes filled with a combination of routines, percentages, and rep ranges. He'd taken in three more brats to coach over the year – an unfortunate result of Eren accidentally blurting out his name in a post-meet press conference for that silver win. It had unearthed his old popularity amongst the local powerlifting community, who had, for a very long time, never thought he ever coach anyone.

His shift in the gym is a lot earlier now. He'd be out of his flat and down at the gym by five, where he'd bicker with Erwin and Hange, both of whom couldn't be happier now that they don't have to wait for the sky to go dark before they end their shifts. He'd start powerlifting blocks with Conny at six, then Eren at eight. Jean would come in at nine, or a little earlier, which sometimes meant he'd clash with Yeager a lot. Levi often ends their sessions with a pulsing migraine.

Armin logs in at ten. He had been a surprising new addition, and even more surprising was his request for a different kind of training.

Levi often wondered if every time Mikasa kissed his reckless boyfriend, she also sucks the utter carelessness of his mouth. Because his cousin had somehow blurted that he had also been a black-belt in judo, and now Armin had suddenly come to him for a mix of self-defense lessons on top of resistance training. It had been new, and he had almost declined until Petra herself convinced him to give it a go, citing that she had heard from Mikasa – again – that Armin was just too shy to ask for martial arts lessons from a blond girl he was interested in from another gym.

After that, well, he does what he always does once the night quiets down. He'd clean the place as spotlessly as he could and wipe every surface until it gleamed. At midnight, Petra would come in with her helmet, packed extra meals, and the clothes she wore when she left the apartment. There was no longer a need for her to lug around her big pink duffel – He'd already brought down her gym wear and the towel that she'd laid out for him earlier. Her mint-colored belt and wraps were already set in his locker in the office, together with his forest-green ones.

They'd train as if it had never been different before. They'd go through their routines for up to two hours, then they'd eat a post-workout high-protein meal in the office, on the benches, or on yoga mats. He'd give himself another thirty minutes to wipe down everything they'd use on the turf all over again, Petra often helping. He's counted himself lucky to land a girl who knew how to clean to his standards.

An earlier start also meant an earlier end to the night shift. The coach replacing him comes in at 4 AM now, and only then do Levi and Petra ascend the familiar flights of stairs, towards an apartment they now share for a good year and four months – where the hours that remain of their day are theirs, until sleep takes them, and they'd awake hours later to do it all over again.

Well, not always.

Their mundane days are broken only by days of rest from iron and heavy plates sandwiched within the weeks, so that they can spend periods of time bathed in the sunlight and the company of people as valuable to them as they are to each other.

Levi thinks of those people right now. There's not a lot of them on his side, really. But their overall value still outweighs even the heaviest of weights. He called his mom the other day. He wanted to hear her voice. Wanted her to know that he's all right. That he's more than all right.

"You're all quiet now," Petra asked curiously, suddenly so close, her breath on his ear. "Something on your mind?"

Levi blinked, breaking away from his reverie. He was slumped on the sofa, legs crossed, one arm draped lazily on the back of the headrest, where he had been absentmindedly flicking his pen in his fingers. The entire time, he'd been staring blankly at the clipboard on his lap. He didn't know how long he'd been thinking in the silence. His speaker was blinking on the coffee table in front of him, as if it were just waiting for a cue to start singing.

He turned to glance at her head hovering by his shoulder. She was already changed to go to work. Her copper hair, long enough now to pass her shoulders, was already blow-dried and looked silky to touch. She was wearing her windbreaker. Her white helmet and motorbike keys in one hand. Light make-up on her freckled face. Lips shimmering with a tinted gloss that Levi knew very well tasted like cherries.

She's always so fucking gorgeous. He had to take a moment to just admire.

"Levi?" She called to him again softly. "What are you thinking?"

He shook his head, groaning in irritation. "Just… wondering what kind of mess I'd see when I get down at the gym later."

She giggles, her shoulders bouncing with the sound. "Yeah, I remember seeing Hange haul something big and bright red from their car yesterday." Her grin reached her eyes. "They look so excited."

"Can't be fucking good then."

"I'm surprised you let them decorate this time. You've always been so against turning the gym lobby into something like a kindergarten art room for a Hallmark holiday."

"So long as there's no glitter involved," he said with a resigned scoff. "It's either this, or suffer another day of Erwin looping an endless abyss of nineties love songs."

Petra laughs again, and Levi closes his eyes, relishing the sound.

The laughter from her eventually faded into a contented sigh, and she finally straightened behind the sofa.

"Anyway, I'm gonna head out now. We'll probably finish early since the guys have plans tonight. "

Levi tilted his head back as far as the cushioned headrest allowed so he could look up at her where she stood over him. He gave her a flat, almost bored look. "Like us?"

"Oh, definitely," she said.

Then she bent at the waist until her face hovered just above his, lips only a breath away.

She went on in a lower voice, still threaded with eagerness and mischief. "Didn't I say I'm going to PR squats later?"

"Yes," he said dryly. "You've made that very clear."

"And if I do," Petra pressed, "you think I'll be meet-ready?"

"Only if you can do it without me spotting you."

Petra pouted at him in that unfairly endearing way of hers, and Levi lifted his chin just enough to brush that pout with his mouth.

"Meet's not until September," he murmured. "You've got time. I'm not worried. You're already strong as hell."

The compliment hit exactly where he knew it would. Pink rushed across her cheeks in an instant, and the corners of his mouth curled at the sight. Two years since he first met her, and she still blushed for him like that.

He wants to keep doing that for a very long time.

Petra closed the last inch between them with a soft sigh, pressing her lips to his. Levi's hand rose at once, slipping into her hair and guiding her down so he could deepen the kiss. Slow and lingering, then gradually becoming something richer. A kiss that made time go hazy. Even with the awkward angle of him half-reclined and her bent over him, Levi still managed to take his time with her mouth, unrushed and restless, until the two of them breathed as one.

By the time he finally pulled back, both of them were left panting.

He looked up at her.

And then, so quietly she almost thought she imagined it, he said...

"I love you, Pet."

Petra's face softened into the happiest little smile.

"I love you too, baby."

Levi snorted at the awful name, though there wasn't much bite left in it.

"You better get out soon," he muttered, voice low. "Before I end up fucking you on this sofa. Again."

That made her laugh, bright and helpless. She straightened, grabbed her helmet and her small bag, and started toward the door.

But just before she stepped out, Levi called after her.

"Babe."

She glanced back.

"Don't forget the cookies."

Petra winked at him.

"Relax. I'm making a big batch." She grinned. "Gotta feed the kids downstairs, too. That new PT Sasha's got a pit for a stomach."

And then her laughter followed her out into the hallway.

For what felt like two or three whole minutes after the door shut, Levi stayed exactly where he was, half-slouched into the sofa, eyes fixed on the closed door, waiting to make sure she was really gone.

Then he shifted on his seat.

He reached behind the back pocket of his joggers and pulled out a small item he'd been sitting on for the last half hour.

A black velvet box.

He turned it over once in his palm, then flicked it open with his thumb.

Inside sat a kite-cut emerald set between two smaller diamonds on a rose-gold band.

Levi stared at it for a long moment, watching the early afternoon light from the window catch on the facets and throw back little shards of green and gold.

He reached for his phone next. The lock screen lit up with a mirror selfie of the two of them standing between the squat racks, a barbell resting on the hooks. He was shirtless, leaning his chest and one arm across the bar, while a smiling Petra stood at his side, posing in a way that made the overhead lights play shadows on the muscles of her back and legs. She was close enough that his other hand rested at her waist to pull her close. His phone was in her hand to take the picture. The plates on the racked bar totaled 260 kg – his new backsquat PR after five years.

Then he smiled.

Slowly, he shut the ring box and slipped it back into his pocket for later.

Then he clicks his Spotify, finds the playlist he shares with Petra, and presses play.

The rhythmic strumming of an acoustic guitar fills his apartment. "So Far Gone" by Thousand Foot Krutch spills out of his small speakers as he leans back on the sofa, flicks up the pages of his trainees' progress notes, and skims across the many numbers – Total weights rising as the days go by.

But to Levi, none of those numbers meant half as much as the greatest PR of his life:

Carrying Petra, his whole damn world, in his arms.

[I know they say that the space between

Can make it stronger than we've ever seen

They might be right, but I disagree

Cause I've never felt stronger than when you're with me.]

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