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One night, Eren woke in the cellar to an improper burst of joy. Minutes passed, until, resigned to defeat, he succumbed to his own impulsivity and stumbled to the door.

The halls were dark and empty, but he took a fair amount of caution, anyways. In a few minutes, he'd arrived at her door. He raised a hand and rapped on the wood. Then he stood back and waited.

Not ten seconds had passed when the door opened, revealing her silhouette in the dim light from within the room. Annie looked him over for a moment.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you at this hour?"

Eren realised he hadn't exactly thought about what he was going to say to her (how did one bring up this sort of thing?) so he fumbled silently for words, unsure what it was he'd done to appear so obvious—though she seemed taken aback by the abrupt change in his demeanor. This thought reassured him a little. "I, er...wanted to see you." he stated unconvincingly.

"Really?" She was smirking, enjoying his reaction, he could tell. She regarded him in much the same way she might oblige his request to teach him a particular combat technique, but she had never quite grinned with her eyes as she did now. Warmth spread to his face, to his neck and the tips of his ears, and his ensuing response was a touch more curt than he had intended it to be.

"Yes."

There was another lengthy pause. The telltale flush that marked his mingled irritation and slight apprehension burned on incessantly, like a pyre.

Annie sighed lightly.

"Well, it's a nice surprise. Come in?"

Bewilderment overtook him for a few seconds in wake of her unflinching response, then he blinked.

"You're serious."

She shrugged, turned towards the doorway, but not before he caught her subtle, half-smile.

"Only if you want."

He supposed that was her form of an invitation. With a final glance down the hall, he stepped cautiously over the threshold, watching her warily. In response, Annie glanced casually towards the door, still ajar. Eren closed it with a swing of his heel.

Actually, that was what he meant to do—in his haste, he more or less kicked the door shut with a bang! that earned them a few drowsy shouts from across the hall. He flinched. She said nothing to this, only beckoned him closer with a nod. With a new thrill of excitement to mask his trepidation, he moved over to her, stopped when they were perhaps an inch apart. He could feel her breath on his skin, warm and slight, just below his collar. Was she just as nervous as he felt?

He looked down at her and found she had already raised her head.

There was more than amusement in her eyes—something else, light and challenging. Seldom was the time she had displayed anything more than her veneer of apathy; despite this, she relaxed the act in his company, and took this candor further still when they were away from the curious eyes of cadets.

As the luck of their privacy struck him, a new wave of nervousness fluttered in his chest. He glanced back to the door, purely to have something to do, joked:

"Do you think someone will come looking for us?" She followed his gaze.

"Probably."

When he turned to her, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and drew him down for a long, heated kiss. His noise of surprise was muffled, and he recovered, leant down, cupped her face in his hands. Annie made a quiet, longing noise in the back of her throat, threw her arms around him. His hands slid down to her neck, her shoulders, lingered on the hem of her shirt.

Annie broke off briefly to murmur: "Go ahead."

Eren soon found that unfastening buttons was much more of a challenge in near-total darkness and with her tongue prodding at his mouth. But it was also much more exciting.

He decided to humor her; she hummed her approval, contenting herself for a while and quickly leaving him light-headed and in dire need of air. So he broke away to catch his breath, felt her sigh against the exposed skin of his throat. On impulse, he leant down and kissed her back in kind, earned a low, eager noise that was stifled partially by his tongue.

She broke away, let her shirt slide to the floor behind her and could not suppress a faint shiver as he took her in.

Annie glanced back towards the cot, nerves tingling, and the only thing she could think to say was: "Come over here."

She turned and he followed her lead. She felt his eyes roam over her naked back as though she were some strange, fascinating creature. It felt better than it should. She was conscious of the fact that she fancied him as much he did her, and was still unsure how to feel about the whole matter. It was dangerous, enticing—her position of power was intoxicating. So she grabbed him by the shoulders, pushed him unceremoniously onto the cot and kissed him before he could say anything.

"You, too." He whispered. And he felt her working at his own shirt.

The ensuing minutes passed in a slow haze. It was like watching someone else's dream; the rustling of their discarded trousers around legs and ankles, then searing heat and fingers on skin, an ardency that gradually seeped into her words. He went through the motions with a frenzied, unshakable euphoria.

In the middle of this daze, Annie gripped his shoulder to get his attention.

"Now," was all she said. Eren readjusted himself and felt a thrill run through him at the warmth of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Ready?"

He grinned despite himself; he was more than ready. Annie gave him one of her fleeting smiles before she laid back, watching him languidly.

"Go on." She muttered, slightly breathless, "Or are you going to keep me waiting?"

In his enthusiasm, he gripped her waist, pushed up hard and the back of her head smacked into the wall. Her nails dug into his shoulders. They both swore—emphatically, and for entirely different reasons—and he offered a frantic apology, then realised Annie was watching him, trying very hard not to crack a smile. She exhaled slowly.

"...Just give a me warning next time."

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Several minutes before this aforementioned liaison, the boys dorm was dozing peacefully when a noise was heard—a bang! that cut through the gloom.

Jean bolted upright in the darkness.

One of the older boys shouted: "Oi! Have some consideration, won't you?" Connie stirred from the bunk beside him.

"What's goin' on?" He mumbled blearily.

"Hell if I know." Jean muttered. "Either it's morning already, or—"

"Maybe it's a thief!"

"Connie," Jean snapped, "there isn't any damned thief! Just go back to bed, will you!"

He heard Connie shift around for a full minute, then another, and he kept moving restlessly. Meanwhile, a series of noises (scuffling, then indistinguishable voices) plagued him, almost spectral in the darkness. Jean was not at all sure whether or not he was even fully awake. It was chilly in the dorm and the others were wide awake now, discussing possible explanations for the source of the noise in hushed whispers.

And then it happened again. A loud thump, muffled cursing. Connie sprung up, voice raised with excitement.

"See? I told you there was a thief!"

"Well, he's not a very good one, is he?" Jean retorted. This drew a couple laughs from the other boys, much to his annoyance; he wasn't trying to be funny, Connie was just being an arse and they thought his suggestion to be funny. He was tired and aggravated and wanted to go to bed.

One boy voiced his curiosity.

"What d'you think he's doing, anyways?"

"Who knows?" Jean shot back, trying to dissuade the mood he had created. Connie, meanwhile, was growing increasingly frustrated at the disbelief of his fellows.

"Fine!" He snapped, stormed to the door. "I'll just go report the breach to the captain, then!"

"I don't think that'll be necessary." Armin's voice announced its presence from a distant corner. Connie stopped in his tracks. "We've got guards, and if for some reason they're taken out, well...Captain Levi's probably already dealt with the problem." He sighed. "Either way, I feel pretty bad for the thief, whoever he is."

Connie stared at him. Then he traipsed back to his own bed and slumped down in defeat.

Silence fell again. The disturbances had been quelled.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning was uncomfortable, to say the least, between Jean's general snappish-ness and Mikasa's unease.

Where were Eren and Annie? Where was Captain Levi, for that matter?

The Captain, as it turned out, was on some kind of mission. If he wanted to be found, he'd have come back long before now.

As for their missing colleagues, Armin was the first (and the only one) to suggest that Commander Hange had been sent down to their cells to conduct further experiments. He stopped when he became aware of Mikasa's icy gaze on him, avoided eye contact, and looked down at his plate.

Afterwards, Jean became the butt of much ridicule, first from Connie, then a few others joined him, then Sasha observed Jean and Mikasa's temperament—"Listen, I know you're both worried 'bout Eren, but I reckon you're makin' a bigger deal out of this than ya' should! C'mmander Hange wouldn't kill 'em, they're too important!"—to which the pair glowered dangerously at her.

So a new topic of conversation was quickly invented by Historia:

"What about the thief?"

A silence descended upon the room. Jean cleared his throat.

"Well, Kri—Historia. We, uh...we caught the thief."

Connie, who had been regarding his food with disinterest, now shot forward in his chair eagerly, and his stomach collided with the edge of the table.

Sasha spoke for him. "Who was 'e?"

Jean shrugged. "No one important."

His good mood was discouraged when an older boy inquired from the back, smirking: "You wouldn't happen to know something about this, would you Kirstein?"

He rounded on him, scowling, "Do I look like I give a damn?"

Connie was about to say something, but Sasha kicked his shin under the table.

No one else felt obligated to comment further.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Something more light-hearted to keep you all interested. First time I've ever written Jean or Historia; consider that a hint of things to come in other stories! Leave me a comment — I need to know if Sasha's Southern accent was okay!
And by the way, there's a sequel: Die Kinder Im Keller.