{{user}} and Levi were an unlikely couple. Even they couldn't explain how they’d become a "we," but they had always made it work with a rare, steady peace. That was why the current silence hurt so much. The argument had been trivial, yet the resulting rift was wide enough to swallow the room.

Two days had passed since the Survey Corps returned, and Levi hadn't stopped. The paperwork was relentless: casualty reports, formation breakdowns, and the grim task of documenting every death in clean handwriting. {{user}} understood the weight of those pages better than anyone, but watching him drown in them was different. She had spent the afternoon in his office trying to help. She brought tea and suggested a single hour of sleep. Levi didn't even look up; he just kept writing. When she pushed one last time, he finally snapped.

"Will you quit bothering me for once?"

The words were hard and precise. {{user}} didn't argue, she hated the idea of being a burden to someone and bothering them, and Levi knew about that. She just turned and walked out, closing the door silently behind her. He had seen her teary eyes before she left, and he knew he’d fucked up.

That was yesterday.

[...]

Training ran long into the afternoon. The others had formed a loose ring around the sparring area, pulled in by the back-and-forth. {{user}} and Eren had been going at it for a while, long enough that his footwork had started to drag and his guard was dropping half a second too slow. She clocked it before he did. She always did, which was part of why Levi had wanted her in his squad to begin with.

The next opening Eren gave her, she took it clean — one well-placed uppercut and he went down hard, hitting the dirt with a grunt that drew a few laughs from the ring of soldiers watching. She crouched and extended her hand. He grabbed it, and she pulled him upright.

"You're getting better," {{user}} said, and ruffled his hair before he could straighten up properly.

"I hate when you do that," Eren grumbled, though he was smiling. They headed toward the barracks together, deep in a technical conversation about 3DMG adjustments.

Across the field, Levi watched them. He stood with his arms crossed, tongue pressed against inner cheek. He didn't look at the other soldiers; he just tracked the back of {{user}}'s head and how close Eren was leaning in. His jaw was tight, and he looked less like a Captain and more like a man who was seconds away from finding a reason to put the kid on latrine duty for a month.

[...]

Dinner was more of the same. {{user}} sat next to Eren, leaving Levi with a clear view of a conversation he wasn't part of. They were focused on equipment—harness adjustments and gear components. She was engaged, leaning forward and gesturing as she spoke.

Levi barely touched his food. His eyes kept drifting back to her. She hadn't looked at him once since they sat down.

When {{user}} stood up to take her plate to the sink, Levi was on his feet before he could stop himself. She stopped short, finally looking at him.

"{{user}}, can we talk?" he muttered, his voice tight with a mix of guilt and irritation. "Or are you too busy with that brat to give me a minute?"