FicWad

1850, two weeks prior

Things were different between the two of them. It wasn't that she minded — quite the opposite, really — but even the most innocent of gestures turned heads. Scandal was bred, not from their history, but from their boldness. Apparently holding hands for all of two seconds was enough to convince the others that their relationship extended beyond the reaches of mere camaraderie.

Annie tried to refrain from wondering what they were, exactly; no need to dwell on what she and the rest of the world already knew. But she did, anyway. Lovers was too personal. Too old to describe young soldiers, with little concept of what awaited them down the line. Not applicable.

Nor were they friends — she did not have friends. Mina was dead. Hitch was most likely dead. Eren tempted fate on a daily basis.

Whatever her relationship was with him, it ran a touch deeper than mere kinship. It was not far off from it, though, resting somewhere between the former and...something else. Hopefully not quite what the others thought. There was no time for emotional attachment.

As it turned out, Hitch wasn't dead. Neither was Marlowe Freudenberg. In fact, they were both quite alive and well. Whether or not this proved to be a curse or blessing remained to be seen; the first time she ran into the two was more than enough to shut both of them up — at least, for a few days. Hitch quickly got over the initial shock of seeing her roommate alive in the flesh, and by the third day she had proceeded to resume her natural role as the older, smarmy superior, this time to the unsuspecting members of the 104th. Marlowe was just as unremarkably uptight as he had been the day she had met him.

Watching Hitch garner the interest of an unknowing Jean, Connie and Sasha brought on something Annie might've identified as pity, had she been willing to extend it to such a party.

one week prior

When their eyes met in the mess hall one sluggish July morning, the tension was a great, looming creation occupying the airspace, thick enough to cut through with a blade. It didn't really matter what the look had been intended for, or how long said contact was established; these days, it seemed that anything was enough to set her on edge.

Everything had come apart within five seconds. Perhaps seven, if she was being generous. Annie turned away quickly, leaving Eren looking confused and a little intrigued. It had been completely innocent, and yet she still found her head swimming. Hitch's knowing smirk did nothing to amend the situation; on the contrary, the sheer amount of discomfort afflicting the two of them only seemed to amuse her.

Part of her wished Mina Carolina was still alive, because it had been nice to have someone around to explain all these things, even if the girl had been anything but subtle about it. Even Hitch would be better company than her own; though Annie preferred Mina to Hitch, because for all of Mina's tendencies towards explaining concepts in uncomfortable detail, at least she wasn't smug.

Their superiors were suspiciously quiet on the matter.

Her mind turned against her in the dark. Nothing existed to distract her. Guilt had found her so often that it was almost unnatural to think of anything else. Now fear was forgotten, displaced by restlessness and an acute sense of yearning. Denying this was a lot like being tortured, but there was no interrogation to be had, nothing to avoid but the voice imagined inside her head, disturbingly reminiscent of Mina, almost a croon: What are you trying to prove? Morbid though it was, the thought kept her occupied.

Or so it should have. It did not.

She cursed, drew her arms and legs tighter about herself. Sleep would not come now; it was far too hot. Her thoughts drifted, once more, to how easy it would be to forfeit this stupid battle she wasn't even winning, which she was probably bound to lose in the first place...

Shit, she really did sound like Mina.

Thoroughly uncomfortable dwelling on the subject of dead people while struggling with her preoccupation with Eren Jaeger, Annie flitted back and forth frantically between the two diversions — though there was little in the way of contest. The latter won out.

Fine. She could compromise, remember little things. A smile or a touch, a look. The smell of him, a mingling of sweat and earth and leather masked now and again by something familiar, medicinal and sharp. Soap? Underlying this was another scent, much headier than the first.

Her thoughts manifested of their own accord and she wished she could punch something. The wall behind her seemed an obvious choice. But she could not afford to draw any more attention to herself. She sat there a little longer, felt another swell of want rise in her before she exhaled in resignation. No point in drawing this out.

Annie found that she'd never been quite so thankful for the easy access her bedclothes provided. A few buttons were undone and she lowered her hand with some hesitancy, only to find herself already slickened with sweat and desire. Too weary to be agitated, she pushed back on her heels till she was pressed against the wall.

It was slow going. She was sticky in the torrid summer air and her skin prickled like there were eyes on her, but nobody came knocking. It was easier after a little while. Still tedious, as she stroked herself absently. Soon she grew more daring. Added fingers, a little pressure and oh. There it was. Her eyes fluttered. She cursed and shut them tightly, licked her dry lips, fighting feverishly to keep her concentration. But she could not focus. She was too restless, too alert to her surroundings. Old habits never died. Annie reminded herself that she was alone, and that no one would come for her if she kept quiet. She swallowed a noise, began again, efficient now, rocking awkwardly in time with her fingers. It was not very practical, and not enough to sate her, but in spite of this she panted, body curling over empty air, nerves tingling; until her wrist twinged painfully and she remembered where she was, and how Eren's hands were broader than her own. Probably warmer. His touch would not be so sure, not rough and fraught with agitation. How was she supposed to defamilarise herself with her own body?

Dizzy with sensation and disappointment, she slumped back and tried, unsuccessfully, to ease the soreness in her wrist.

It was still too hot to sleep. And she would need a shower now.

Goddam it.

Perhaps they weren't as discreet as they could have been, what with how they circled each other like birds, or so she'd been told. Annie did what she could to save face while simultaneously attempting to reach out to him. She took care to remain astute, regardless of what level of impatience pulled at her. Surreptitious glances here and there, subtle touches, and the promise of an opportune moment sometime in the future. It wasn't nearly enough for either of them, but they made do — never mind that they might be giving the others ideas. It was likely a surprise to no one that this situation would get out of hand, especially when she was the one unable to remain inconspicuous for more than a minute or two.

Understandably frustrated, Annie took to training with a wild fervency, but her superiors would not allow her to overwork herself. She was able to keep going like this for all of two days before she cracked. And so it was in defeat, she found her way to the very last person she would ever have dreamed of talking to.

"Lemme get this straight," said Sasha Blaus. "You're comin' over t'me for advice? An' on what, exactly? I mean, I jus' figured ya' had it all sorted out, wha' with how 'ya've taken ta' watchin' one another."

She was surprisingly businesslike for a girl who had no qualms with nicking food right under the noses of their superior officers. Annie found herself at a loss for what to say. How the hell did these girls talk amongst themselves with such ease?

Blaus frowned. "Erm. Are ya' all right, there?"

The keenness of the other girl's attention was very unsettling. It was as if she already knew everything without needing to hear any words from her. Annie braced herself, then nodded stiffly to indicate she was listening. Hopefully this wouldn't be anything worse than what Commander Hange had put her through.

Sasha beamed, obviously encouraged. "All right, then!"

In the end, it was not at all as bad as she'd predicted. In fact, Blaus looked just as relieved by the end of it as Annie felt.

"If I might be honest," said Blaus, "I reckoned ya' were of th' mind to kill me or somethin'." She chuckled. "Glad t'know ya' ain't as scary as ya' look."

Annie could not resist.

"Don't push your luck."

She felt a little rush of satisfaction at the way Sasha's face paled a little.

It was summer, but the leaves were already turning from green to reds and golds. The sun was blisteringly hot overhead. Annie took to the shade of a nearby tree, though it did little to alleviate the heat.

She'd been outside for a fair amount of time when the figure approached. She straightened up, pleased to find her suspicions had been proven wrong.

"They let you off, then?" she asked, brushing sweat-streaked hair from her face.

"Not exactly. I'm supposed to wait for the results to come in, and Hange said some fresh air would do me good."

She turned. "So you thought you'd come find me."

Eren shrugged. "I like talking to you." His sincerity was infallible.

A moderate amount of scarlet was trickling from his left nostril.

"Your nose is bleeding," she said.

"Huh? Oh, this." He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "It's fine, I think. Happens most every time when I crystallize myself. Why, do you get it, too?"

"Not anymore."

"You did, then."

"I was young when it happened, Eren. I'm not sure how it works."

The words came out a little more harshly than she had originally intended. Eren sobered up.

"Didn't mean to pry," he said. "Just, um. Thought you'd know something."

She felt guilty at the speed at which he backtracked.

"It's fine," she said awkwardly. "Don't worry about it."

An intangible weight settled over their heads in the wake of conversation.

"What were you doing before I came over here?" he asked. "Training again?"

"Was. It's hot," she said coolly.

"That's never stopped you before," he said, feigning surprise.

Annie scoffed. "I don't suppose you've been in the sun all day, have you, Jaeger?"

"In and out of it. It is hot, though," he added.

Silence fell again. She glanced over to catch Eren watching her. He gave a start before looking away. And that was all she needed to see.

"What is it?" she asked, as politely as she could. No response. "Is something troubling you?" Nothing. Annie turned back to the tree. She could wait a little while longer.

"Care to spar?" he asked suddenly.

She considered this.

"Aren't you supposed to be injured?" she asked.

"It's nothing worse than what I've had before."

Annie wondered exactly what Eren was referring to when he said before.

"It's rather hot for it, don't you think?"

"I don't think Hange will mind if I get a little unclean."

She let him wonder a little while longer. Then she turned on her heel.

"All right."

It was not one of their worst fights, though private aggravation was a poor substitute for motivation, and he was perceptive to the point of distraction. It was still relatively easy to lead him through the motions — she decided to test him, leant back like she was about to kick, and he jumped back, raised his arms, eyes on her bare ankle.

"You're open," Annie advised him, and before he could reply she was advancing, turning her frustration into a cool kind of ruthlessness. She went on re-directing him. She need only wait for a mistake; a moment's hesitation, or overconfidence, and see it fixed, seize upon his imperfection with all the mercilessness she could conjure up. But Annie was more than slightly preoccupied. Little, insignificant details, ignored in any other situation, now combined as they'd done before in nighttime — becoming an unstoppable force that bubbled up to the surface of her consciousness to construct a very different beast, with a transformation that was just as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Was it her own paranoia that kept her on edge, or had he sought her out today as she had dreamt of doing before? Was he still the same fifteen year-old boy she remembered, with a head full of dreams, inexperienced and — and what, Annie? What do you expect of him?

Victory goaded her in the form of his gaze as she found an opening. She made it a point to knock him to the ground without really holding him down. His leg was situated between her calves and he was far too close.

And an idea struck her. But dare she take the risk? Why not?

"You know," she muttered, voice hushed in a precursor to breathlessness, "I think your friends have ideas."

Eren frowned up at her. "How do you mean?"

"Blaus. You'd be surprised what she knows."

He seemed taken aback by this statement. "You're friends with Sasha?"

"She's been kind enough to offer her suggestions."

Curiosity entered his voice. "About what, exactly?"

"Oh, all sorts of things." She gave in a little this time, moving near enough to brush noses, but no further. A look of understanding dawned in his eyes, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her lips curled slightly, but Annie did not move. She had to be sure. She descended to close the distance between them, slowly.

His body tensed as she kissed him, but he made no move to stop her, and when she pulled back his eyes were still open, still trained on her.

"You've been planning this, then," Eren remarked. His mouth was a little chapped.

She made a show of checking her grip on his wrists, considered if she dared push a little more, just to see what he'd do. "Do you mind it?" she asked quietly.

His grin eased her nerves more than it should have. "What is that, a rhetorical question?"

She could see herself reflected in his eyes, features concealed by shadows. She wondered if she was blushing.

"We're alone," she said simply, and leant down to him.

"Wait, am I supposed to just—" Eren mumbled, grunting when she kissed him again, "—ignore the fact that you've been planning this?"

"So you have a conscience," she said indifferently.

Her fingers danced along his stomach, grazing the waistline of his trousers. Eren gave a start, looking to her for any kind of justification, verbal or otherwise. She smiled calmly down at him, thumb dipping in the gap between fabric and skin.

"You're insane," he said, voice slightly constricted. "Absolutely insane."

"Maybe I am. But so are you."

And her hands came to rest on his stomach. Eren glanced rapidly from her face to her hands and back to her face again, his expression hovering somewhere between relief and panic. She knelt up with his legs encircling her, working with his belt.

"Help me with this," she muttered.

Eren grunted. "You have a belt. You know how."

But he seemed very much relieved when she pulled his trousers over his hips. For all of her directness, she did little more than entertain the notion until Eren opened his mouth to say something, then stopped because her hand was already half-curled around him and it was a pointless ambition to speak. When confronted, she merely raised her eyebrows before looking back down to her objective. He made a strangled noise; she increased her grip and he gasped, twitching in her palm.

"That got your attention," she mused, without looking up.

Eren had no idea how she could talk to him so unconcernedly while he was reduced to this degree of exposure. He gave a start when she took him in hand again, far more delicately than he had expected her to, maneuvering their legs and hips about until he was laid out beneath her upon the dry earth and grass, resting on his elbows, and she was almost straddling him. The tip of him pressed against her clothed stomach. He glanced down at her hand, mostly because it was very different than his own — something to keep in mind, really — then looked to her with a kind of dubiety.

"At least I'm not the one—" he began, but she kissed him again, much more gradually this time, pressing her thumb firmly against the tip of him, and that stopped him in his tracks.

Annie kept her fingers loose, just enough to hold him, and he watched her hazily, with his lips parted and his eyes lidded, green and dark like the pines on the horizon, brow furrowed, like he was straining to see her properly. Feeling remarkably pleased with herself, Annie tilted her head up, brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, smirking as he made a ragged noise against her cheek. She drew back, kissed him properly this time. Eren answered her in kind, nails biting her skin, and he lowered his head quickly to the side of her throat, finding purchase. In mild surprise and exhilaration she gasped, hand curling round his cock to hold him flush against her stomach, inviting him to move closer. He moaned a little, forehead pressing against her neck, hips rolling into her fist. When he sat up his head collided with her chin and he muttered something like an apology, cupped her face with trembling hands before he leant in to kiss her again. Her teeth grazed his lower lip in supplication and his whole body shuddered at that. There was no real order to his movements now, just a kind of desperate rocking.

"Annie," he managed hoarsely, and she knew he was close. She hummed softly, obliged him. His voice cracked. And he came across her stomach with a gasp that was almost panicked and a few, shallow thrusts under her loose palm. He slumped to her, panting shakily like he'd run a mile. Annie smiled to herself, another secret kept in the loose fabric of his shirt, waiting for him to recover.

Eventually he collected himself, glanced back down. Realisation set in.

"I—" he said, then swallowed dryly.

"There's a river nearby, you know," she said.

"Oh," he muttered. "Right."

"C'mon," she inveigled him. "It's hot, anyway."

The water was very cold and barely came up to her waist, but it was hardly an issue. It really wasn't so terrible, especially not in the blazing heat of the afternoon sun, but it was enough to get one's attention. Even so, Eren looked somewhat apprehensive when she glanced over, asking if he was going to just stand there. He joined her soon enough, leaving her momentarily alone with her thoughts.

The possible consequences of what she had just done now seemed to sink in. Over and over and over, her mind turned in circles, always coming back to dwell upon the trust which with he'd looked to her. They were nearly the same age, and yet she was both teacher and companion, a confidant in the mutual circumstance that neither had asked for...but he did not fear her. Did not avoid her, because what reason had he to fear a friend?

So she stood there, feeling very nervous, unsure whether or not she had she jeopardised this fragile connection. It didn't take long for Eren to take notice of her pensiveness. He always did.

"Annie?" His voice was low, painfully earnest. A softer flutter begot in her chest. She pretended to take interest in the trees beyond the foreground. "Are you all right?"

His hands were close. He was close, and a shiver afflicted her, unrelated to the chill of the river.

"I'm fine," she said. "Do I seem different to you?"

"Not in any particular fashion, no."

"Then what gave you the impression?"

"You seem...troubled."

"Do I?"

"A bit."

Annie steeled herself. "Well," she said, very quietly, "what would you say if I told you that you were right?"

He blinked, apparently taken aback by this unadulterated display of human emotion.

"I thought you just..." He sighed. "Never mind. What's the matter?"

"I think of you sometimes. More than I should." Annie fiddled restlessly with her hands. "I figure you've noticed by now, and...I'm not sure if I've pushed you too far, or done anything stupid, but I think about you, still." He stared at her. She kept her eyes on the river. "And I don't want to take advantage of you like this, Eren. They'll know, and it'll be on our shoulders. I don't want that to happen to you."

A small silence.

"Is that all?" he asked finally. She glanced over at him. "I understood you up until the bit about my part in this. Because it sort of is on our shoulders, in case you haven't noticed." He smiled good-naturedly. "I think about you too, you know."

Annie wondered what the expression on her face belied. Disbelief, probably. Why was he so calm?

"Look, I didn't mean to unload all this on you, it's just...on my mind." She offered him a wry smile. "You can understand, can't you?"

"I think so. And, well, with all due respect to what you've just told me, I reckon the best time to do whatever you had in mind would be at present." Annie just stared at him. "I mean, if you want to," he added.

She looked back down at her feet, torn between relief and additional, unreasonable guilt in wake of his frankness.

"You're sure about this, then," she said.

"If I recall, I came looking for you of my own free will. And I'm here, still. Pretty certain that counts for something." Another pause. "Annie, I'm fine. Really! You don't have to worry about me." She felt a smile creep across her lips despite herself. "I appreciate your concern, though," he added, as an afterthought.

And she looked at him.

"Come here?" he offered.

She found herself standing under him with her back to his chest. Annie looked up, mildly intrigued and he kissed her forehead, arms wrapped around her.

"Is this why you followed me out here?" she asked, making it a point to sound a little more unperturbed than she felt.

"In part," he replied. "You're persuasive, you know."

"Persuasive," she echoed, more to herself than anything. She smiled. "I'll have to remember that."

His hands shifted over her hips in a silent question. Annie nodded. There was the sound of rustling, a soft clink, and very carefully he tugged down her water-logged trousers to rest just above her knees. She tensed, held her breath to combat the sudden chill that afflicted her, leaving goosebumps in its wake whilst his hands found newly-bared skin, tentative but spellbound. Here was more time to explore her intricacies.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked.

"No," she replied inattentively. He cupped the inside of her thigh, moving upwards, and she let her eyes flutter shut to better focus on the feeling of him. He was warm, warmer than her, even, and there was something remarkably pleasing about the way he touched her. His hands were a little heavier than her own, slow to wander over her curves but gentle.

Eren felt his heart skip a beat when he realised how slick she really was, and he lowered his head to rest his chin on her shoulder, testing her with his hand, wondering how much the water had contributed to her readiness, then how long she'd been thinking about this in the first place. He chanced a glimpse at her. The beginnings of a flush coloured her cheeks, and she gave a start, breath light, when he entertained the notion of entrance. Annie met his gaze through the corner of an eye clouded with euphoria. She was waiting for him. It was very difficult to think about anything when she looked at him like that, so he closed his own eyes and dipped a couple fingers inside her.

A little 'oh' escaped her, of surprise and sweetest relief, and she knew then that there was no way to reproduce the way the river burnt her fevered skin with its chill — just like fire — and how his breath caught at the feel of her; because imagination had its limits, and this was surely better than what her frustrated hand could ever hope to achieve.

His mind simply stopped working for a few moments, and he went as far as he could, distantly mindful of the fact that his pants were uncomfortably tight again and she most likely knew. "You're pretty warm, actually," he remarked, almost a whisper.

"For God's sake, Eren," she rasped, slightly discontent with the difference of their position, trembling at the delight in his tone, in his touch. "I want your hands—"

He pulled her closer. She canted her hips feverishly, on her toes to accommodate him and he tilted his head to kiss her cheek.

"M'right here," Eren mumbled, circling along her oversensitive flesh with the pad of a calloused thumb. "Not going anywhere." Annie grasped his wrist and slid his fingers in again, lowering herself back on the soles of her feet. When she found what she was looking for she gave a little sigh of contentment.

"This," she said huskily, pressing into him for emphasis. "This is what I want. You understand?" He did not reply. Just drew her to him, face hidden in the curve of her shoulder. "Eren," she said, agitated now.

"Mm-hm," he hummed, rocking lazily with her. He let his free hand skim down her side, a soft groan rising in his throat when she pressed back against him. He reached for her waist, thrusting impetuously against her thigh, craving release. Annie chuckled, and when he cracked open an eye he found her watching him slyly, and he supposed that his obviousness was beside the point. Eren cursed, squeezed his eyes shut again, concealed his face in the crook of her neck and pulled her body to his, pushing harder against her, enraptured by the way she hissed and clenched around his fingers. Even her simple responsiveness was dizzying, overwhelming; he drew her up, quite happy to let her rest against him for a moment.

Annie hooked an arm around his neck and he halted, regarding her dazedly. She tilted her head, aiming to kiss his mouth but missed, brushing his jaw. He leant to her, then, and fine, maybe this wasn't the most convenient way to kiss someone, but Annie couldn't help but feel they'd managed it rather well, situation considered. It was around this point that Eren attained a better hold on her waist, started grinding against her hips with less reserve and something more like pent-up desire. Her hand fisted in his hair and she swayed with him.

"Careful," he mumbled. "Don't want to fall."

"Will you sh—" she hissed, retort cut off in a groan when he thrust more intently, a distracted kiss placed just under her jawline.

"M'serious, Ann," he panted, removing his fingers to stroke her again with his thumb, and her knees all but buckled. "Might crack my head open. Really don't want that."

She could feel him beaming. Words failed her on account of the amalgamation of emotional and sensational diversion, and she moaned, frustrated by the inability to process it all. He eased up, fingers slicked with her arousal, roaming along the path he'd taken with his thumb; Annie was twisting, pressing fervently into him.

"E-Eren," she shuddered, perched precariously on her toes again, nearly hectic with want, craning her neck to look at him, "I—" He kissed her brow tentatively, mumbled something she did not catch before lifting her leg over his, drawing her in. She laid the back of her head to rest on his shoulder, watching him. He caught her eye and exhaled, coaxing her to stand with a nudge of his leg. She did, and he took hold of her waist, angling himself hence.

Eren found himself wishing he could at least loosen his trousers a little, because he could feel her so completely it was excruciating. She was right there, tantalizingly close through the rough fabric, and he wondered if she was thinking about it as well, if it was nearly as uncomfortable for her. He got his answer when her palm brushed none-too-lightly over his groin, and he nearly lost his nerve.

"Annie," he croaked, free hand wedged inelegantly up her shirt, fingers splayed between her breasts and sternum, cock twitching when she made a soft noise — of surprise, pleasure, impatience, he couldn't tell — and he dragged his mouth to her temple, whispering hoarsely, "I can't—"

"Don't, then."

The idea of it hit him completely and he was done, arm freed hastily from her shirt to curl across her belly, practically lifting her off the ground in his fervor. She fell back into him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, tugging lazily at his hair, and Eren was shuddering, trying not to misplace his balance on trembling legs. Trying to let her down easy, because for God's sake he could just as easily crush her or something equally terrible; never mind, that was a stupid thought, of course he wouldn't crush her. Annie was wonderfully light on her feet. He embraced her, mouth brushing chastely against her pale skin in lieu of words, and her fingers caressed his scalp with a tenderness he would not normally have associated with her. He shook where he stood, dimly aware that he was not dreaming, called back to reality by the cold prickling in his legs and the weight of her against his chest. When his head cleared he was greeted by the vision of her grinning languidly up at him — the mere idea of Annie grinning was enough to make his head spin — flushed and dangerous and unspeakably beautiful in the violent light of summer. He wasted no time, buried his fingers inside her if only to hear her gasp — more like a growl — feel her arch into him, and he probably would have come again if he could have. She looked to him, deliberate in her movements, undaunted. He leant over her shoulder and kissed her, lips chapped like his own, tasting the same dryness on her tongue, unsure if the smoothness of her skin was attributed from water or sweat. Annie smirked against his mouth, pulled away, settling herself on his fingers.

"Go on," she breathed.

She felt him follow the curve of her until she grabbed his wrist, directing him urgently. He didn't stop this time, kissing her throat, her shoulder, anything he could reach, panting. She made a ragged, desperate noise, dragging his head down to her shoulder, stroking herself feverishly in time with his ministrations because it was too much and not enough at once. A few thrusts more and she came with a startled cry, head bumping his shoulder, all pins and needles.

Eren held her tightly, wide-eyed and transfixed as her back curved against his chest. Curious, he pressed his hand lightly over her nerves, and she actually snarled something like, "Jaeger, you son of a—haaaagh," and he tried to pull away but she would have none of it: "I'm fine—fine, goddam it!" she growled. "Just touch me, will you—" So he circled her as she had done herself, taking care to go slowly, and Annie was shuddering, lips parted soundlessly, curling back over him in what he figured must amount to complete elation. He watched as her shuddering lapsed into a feeble twitching of her hips against him, and then she went slack, grasped his arm weakly. "Tha-that's enough," she stammered. "S'enough."

He removed his hand from her, and she tested her weight. Good enough, she decided. At least until she tried to stand, whereupon she swayed precariously, swore under her breath and leant upon him. His arms came around her, and she exhaled when he nuzzled her shoulder wearily.

"All right?" he asked.

"...I think so," she muttered, thoroughly disheveled, but feeling strangely peaceful.

Another silence settled in wake of their light panting. Annie took notice of a faint soreness around her hips and contemplated the chances of bruising. Likewise, Eren realised that his back was uncomfortably hot from the sun, and was struck by a spell of dizziness unrelated to the comedown of sex.

"So. That was different," he said after a moment.

"Mm," said Annie. "I'd worry about yourself."

"Huh? What about me?"

"That's not your knee, is it?"

"I don't—oh."

"I could be mistaken."

Silence on his end.

"Would you rather I hadn't told you?" she asked.

Eren muttered something indistinct under his breath. He felt a simultaneous ache in his chest and his loins when she peeled herself away from him.

"How d'you you aim to explain why we took so long?" he asked suddenly.

Annie turned around. His eyes were hazy but focused intently on her. The evident dismay and unease in his expression invoked a strange desire to laugh.

"As much as I wouldn't mind continuing this," she said quietly, "we've obligations."

Eren was having trouble deciding if it was better or worse this way. They were perfectly alone, he wanted to say. Annie had turned away once more, already in the process of redressing herself. He followed suit.

She offered him a hand up. At least, that was what Eren had assumed she was doing, and even so he was caught off guard when she did. Her hand was small and warm in his, and she looked coolly up at him.

"After all," she said, "one of us can still think of something."

And with that, she let go.