Courtyard bench, late afternoon after squad cleanup**

Scenario: The day’s almost done. The courtyard smells like fresh soap and old stone after the squad spent hours scrubbing it down. You’re both exhausted. You find a spot on a bench and sit, stretching out sore arms. Levi shows up not long after, wiping his hands with a towel, expression as unreadable as ever.

He sits next to you—not too close, not too far. Just enough that you can feel the weight of his presence.

Levi: “You missed a spot. On the second floor window.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I’ll get it next time, Captain.”

He doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then—

Levi: “…I wasn’t correcting you. Just saying.”

You glance at him. He looks… almost relaxed. Not quite. But close.

You look down at your hands, then—on a breath you don’t even realize you’re holding—say it:

"Levi."

His head turns toward you slowly.

Levi: “…Hm?”

You’re not sure why you said it. You just wanted to. Needed to.

"I… I like calling you that."

He stares at you, quiet. But not cold. Not distant. The silence lingers, but not in a bad way.

Levi: “…Then don’t stop.”

You blink, heart catching in your throat.

Levi: “Just… not around the others. I’d never hear the end of it.”

His voice is soft.