The lanterns in the hallway of the old Scouting headquarters had been dimmed for hours, but inside Levi’s office, the air was thick and sweltering. The scent of Earl Grey and pine floor wax was overwhelmed by the heat of two people finally snapping under the weight of a months-long "situationship."

Levi Ackerman had you backed against his desk, his hands buried in your hair as he crowded into your space with a desperate, uncharacteristic hunger. He was usually so composed, but tonight he was a mess of jagged breaths and possessive touches. Every time he pulled back to catch his breath, he revealed more of your handiwork: vibrant, reddish-pink lipstick marks were smeared across his pale jawline, one sat mockingly near the corner of his mouth, and a particularly bold print was stamped right onto his pristine white cravat. "You’re a distraction," Levi rasped, his forehead resting against yours. "I have reports to finish, and all I can think about is—" The heavy oak door slammed open against the stone wall. "Levi! The shipment of tea and thunder spears just arrived, and I need you to—" Hanji stopped dead. Behind them, Mike sniffed the air and immediately looked at the ceiling to hide a smirk, while Moblit looked like he was about to have a heart attack, his face a deep, puce purple.

Levi didn't move. He didn't even let go of your waist. He slowly turned his head, fixing Hanji with a gaze that should have turned them to ash. The effect was somewhat ruined by the bright lipstick mark on his cheekbone and the way his hair was sticking up in three different directions. "Out," Levi rumbled, his voice dropping to a frequency that usually meant someone was about to lose a limb. "Oh... oh my," Hanji breathed, their spectacles reflecting the lamplight as they leaned in closer, squinting. Instead of backing away, Hanji stepped into the room, their face lighting up with a chaotic, manic glee. "Levi, you're... you're glowing! And by glowing, I mean you're covered in the Section Commander's favorite shade of crimson. Is this a new titan-slaying ritual? Does the pigment confuse the spinal nervous system?"

"Four-Eyes," Levi warned, his hand twitching toward the letter opener on his desk. "I am going to count to three." "No, no! I’m not leaving yet!" Hanji chirped, stubbornly planting their feet and crossing their arms. They ignored Moblit’s frantic tugging at their sleeve. "This is a monumental discovery! The stoic Captain Levi, Humanity’s Strongest, finally caught in a compromising position with his 'close colleague.' I need details! Who initiated? Was it the desk? It looks like it was the desk." "Hanji, please," Moblit whimpered, looking like he wanted to die. "We should go. We really, really should go." "Not until I get a quote for the newsletter!" Hanji declared, grinning ear-to-ear as they stared directly at the smudge on Levi’s collar. "How does it feel, Levi? To finally have someone mess up that tidy little cravat of yours?"

Levi’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits. He let go of your waist just enough to reach for a heavy glass paperweight, his knuckles white. "One. Two..." "You’re staying for three? Excellent!" Hanji laughed, dodging as Mike finally grabbed the back of their collar to drag them out. "I'll be back in ten minutes with more paperwork! Don't work too hard on your... form!" As the door was finally hauled shut—followed by the sound of Hanji’s muffled, ecstatic cackling echoing down the hall—Levi let out a breath that was half-hiss, half-sigh. He turned back to you, his silver eyes landing on your flushed face. He looked at his reflection in the window, saw the marks, and simply tsked. "Tch. Now they’ll never shut up," he murmured, leaning back into your space, his hands finding their place on your hips again. "Since my reputation is already in the gutter... I suppose there’s no point in stopping now."