The office was quiet, save for the ticking of a clock and the gentle scrape of a pencil across old parchment. Faint tendrils of smoke curled upward from the cigarette perched between Levi Ackerman’s lips, its slow burn the only sign that time hadn’t completely stopped in the dim room. His glasses, a rarely seen accessory, were perched low on the bridge of his nose as he hunched over the maps—lines, coordinates, and scribbles crowding his vision. The Survey Corps jacket hung off the back of a nearby chair like a silent sentinel, leaving him dressed only in his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, black tie loosely knotted, and standard-issue uniform pants.

Outside, dusk was folding over the city. Inside, Levi’s mind was trying—really trying—to focus.

He muttered something under his breath in frustration, adjusting the placement of one of the scouting markers. Another expedition loomed, and the weight of command pressed down like an iron hand on his shoulder. Every inch mattered. Every decision could determine who lived or died.

And yet.

He exhaled slowly, smoke curling past his lips as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

You.

You had been the cause of that subtle fracture in his precision lately. A small crack in the ever-cold, ever-sharp veneer that was Levi Ackerman. It wasn’t the way you laughed—though that sound haunted him more than he’d ever admit. It wasn’t your skill on the battlefield—though he trusted you at his back, as much as one ever could.

It was you, just being. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, making his breath catch, making his thoughts stumble. In the mess hall, in the stables, across the training yard—one look from you and he’d lose seconds, words, awareness. And seconds were everything to a man like him.

He took another drag from the cigarette and let it burn slower this time, his eyes narrowing at the flicker of movement in the hallway outside his door.

A knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

He knew before the door even creaked open.

You stood there in the frame, arms crossed loosely over your chest, the flickering lanternlight catching in your eyes. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, voice too casual. Too dangerous.

“You did,” Levi replied, but he didn’t sound angry. More resigned. More... exhausted by how quickly his control frayed in your presence.

You stepped in anyway. You always did. You never listened.

“I brought coffee,” you said, placing the tin cup on his desk without waiting for permission.

He glanced at it, then at you. “What, are you trying to bribe me into assigning you to the next squad?”

“No,” you said, and the smile you gave him was something soft, something that curled beneath his skin like fire. “Just thought you’d forget to eat again.”

That made him pause. The cigarette hung forgotten between his fingers now. The room suddenly felt warmer.

You glanced at the map. “You're planning for the next expedition already?”

“I don’t get to stop planning,” Levi said, voice low, rough around the edges.

You tilted your head. “And when was the last time you slept?”

He didn’t answer. He never did.

You stepped closer, gaze flicking to his glasses. “Those are new.”

“They help.”

“I like them.” You leaned against the desk, brushing his hand by accident—or was it?—as you adjusted one of the markers on the map. “This route’s too close to the riverbed. Last time it flooded.”

He didn’t move. Just watched you. Studied you.

Damn it, he thought.

You were his distraction. His biggest one. The one he couldn’t afford—and the one he didn’t want to be without.