Chapter Text
Kald.
A country with a population of 50,000. A country carved out of snow-capped mountains so tall they disappear into silver lined clouds, and smoothed by plains of rolling grassland where sky-high sunflowers shine brighter than the sun. A country where windmills turn slowly on meadows where the heady scent of lavender fills the lungs of any living creature nearby. A country that changes colours dramatically from the cherry blossom pink of spring, to the mossy greens of summer, to the warm reds and yellows of autumn and to the milky-white blankets of snow in winter. A country home to lakes of water so crystal clear they give birth to a hundred prismatic tints of colour under the sparkling light filtered by the heavy green canopy of primeval forest trees. A country where the clouds roll in low every morning, swathing hillside villages in soft white before dissipating under warm mid-day sunshine. A country rich in folklore and lost-tales of ancient times passed down from generation to generation. A country with tastes in food so diverse that there is a dish to stimulate every corner and portion of the tongue and mouth.
At least, that’s what Felipe tells them during the train journey.
When they arrive in Kald, it is the dead of night, and very, very cold. There is no moon and the sky is pitch dark. Large oil lanterns swing from the hands of shadowy figures who wait by the end of the tunnel where the train has stopped. The six of them alight from the engine room and are greeted by at least a dozen figures, their faces too blurry to properly see in the muted light.
“Welcome,” A thin man steps forward, only slightly taller than Annie herself. He raises his lantern and his features come into view. Salt and pepper hair, kindly eyes and a pleasant smile. “My name is Pekka Heikkinen, Chancellor of Kald. You must be Commander Arlert.”
“Yes, and thank you.” Armin says, his voice tired. “Thank you for providing refuge, Chancellor. We are truly glad to be here.”
“Likewise, we are honoured to have you here,” Chancellor Heikkinen bows his head deeply. “I hope your journey was smooth?”
“It was,” Armin nods. “But very long.”
“Yes, of course,” The older man nods quickly in understanding. “And so I suggest we postpone introductions until after you are all well rested.”
Annie feels the relieved slump of Armin’s shoulders beside her. “Yes, that would be good.”
“Excellent, excellent,” What Annie can see of the Chancellor’s face forms a pleased smile. “Now then, let us show you to your quarters. Please, follow me.”
“And the other refugees?”
“Not to worry, my secretary will show them to their settlement.” He turns his head and nods at another figure hidden in the dark that Annie can’t make out. “Now then, please.”
The ten minute drive to their quarters is quiet save for Connie’s poorly muffled yawns and Pieck’s chattering teeth. Reiner and Jean are huddled together, arms tightly wrapped around themselves. Annie herself is warmer than the others, thanks to the thicker material of her hoodie and she leans into Armin - whose shaky breath comes out in white puffs - to share her body heat and he welcomes her gratefully. If the others notice, they don’t say anything. With the stress needed to survive in Fort Salta no longer required, fatigue and exhaustion have crashed into their bodies and the only thing keeping them from falling unconscious right then and there is the promise of a hot bath, hot food and hot beds.
The rest of what happens is very blurry. She remembers eating. She remembers the climb to a second floor and into what her exhausted brain decides is her room. She remembers getting into a very hot bathtub and washing herself clean with actual soap. She remembers opening a cupboard where she had been told some clothes had been prepared for them. She remembers pulling on a too-large shirt and too-loose pants and climbing into a soft bed with soft blankets and very quickly falling asleep.
The next time she wakes up, it is from extreme hunger and with heavy limbs and bleary eyes, she stumbles downstairs to what appears to be the kitchen. Connie’s there, barely awake, shovelling a large plate of something that looks like long, yellow ribbon-like strings into his mouth. He nods sleepily at her and gets her a plateful too. It is dark outside and she barely registers what the kitchen looks like, except for the fact that it is warmly lit by a large overhead lamp.
“What is this?” Annie mumbles, sleepy eyes and hungry stomach fighting a vicious battle inside her.
“I don’t know,” Connie says between mouthfuls. “But it’s really good.”
“What ab-about-” A yawn escapes her mouth. “The others?”
“They’re all still asleep. But I think Armin and Reiner woke up this morning for breakfast.”
“Oh.”
And their conversation ends there. They eat in drowsy, comfortable silence, the only sounds being those of the forks clinking against the plates and the gulp of water down their throats. Whatever this food is, Annie does agree it’s delicious, but when her head hits her pillow once again, she forgets everything.
And that is how they spend the first three days in Kald. Sleeping for the most part, woken up only by the cries of their stomachs and wails of their bladders. Time no longer makes any sense, nor does it matter. Sometimes it is dark outside, sometimes it's bright. Once or twice she eats alone in the kitchen, a few other times with Pieck or Reiner or Jean. Eyes puffy, hair unkempt, and bedraggled in mismatched and ill-fitting clothes - none of them converse much, only sharing piping hot meals that are always on the dining table before going back to sleep.
When she wakes up a little after sundown on the third evening, she finds Armin in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water. There's nobody else. When he notices her, he offers her a sleepy smile.
"Everyone else just ate I think. Pieck woke me up. She knocked on your door, but you didn't respond."
"I think I heard it, but…" She shrugs.
"Mhmm." He lifts the lid off a large saucepan and frowns, blinking slowly. "I think it's a… well I don't know what this is."
Annie rounds the table and peers into it. A deep red broth with floating vegetables and more long strings, except this time they aren't yellow, but a pale white.
"Doesn't matter," She says, pulling out two bowls from a shelf. "As long as it's edible. I'm too hungry to care."
"True." Armin hums, serving them both heapfuls of the strange strings and pouring plenty of the broth and vegetables over it. Once again, it turns out to be delicious - tangy, a little spicy and full of other flavours she’s too groggy to comprehend - and Annie's stomach is grateful. They eat in a silence only punctured for persistent yawning. Somehow in her sleepy daze, she notices his dishevelled appearance - he’s wearing a dark blue shirt that’s a little too loose on him, grey trousers and his hair is sticking out in angles from heavy sleep - and it feels nice. She feels at home.
When they finish, Armin mumbles something about washing their dishes and Annie grumbles in response. It's only because it's Armin that she relents and stays back to help - had it been anyone else, she would've left them there to go back to her bed - and they get it done. He says something about not wanting the housekeeper to be burdened with the dishes too, on top of all the cooking, and Annie agrees with a tired nod. He washes, she dries and they put them away together. She wants to sleep more, but it's nice, standing next to him like this by the sink, doing something as harmless as washing bowls and spoons.
When they trudge up the stairs with full stomachs, sleepier than ever, she takes his hand in hers and with a warm smile, he tugs her closer. She glances down at their feet, climbing the steps in tandem with each other, his right foot and her left foot together, making the floorboards creak. She yawns loudly and that sets him off into a big yawn of his own.
The boys have their rooms on the first floor while the girls occupy the second floor, so when he walks with her all the way across the boys' corridor and to the foot of the stairs to the second floor, she gives him a questioning look.
"Wanted to spend some more time with you." Armin chuckles bashfully.
And it warms Annie’s heart so much that she climbs two steps and kisses him.
He responds immediately, pulling her against him and slanting his head deeply to kiss her better. It is sleepy, lazy, uncoordinated - but it still sets off sparks inside her body. Her hands tug on his neck and he climbs the two steps she's on to press her against the wall and lick her bottom lip. With a tongue set on fire, she eagerly invites him in, but when another yawn slips past her mouth into his, he smiles against her lips and pulls away with a chaste peck on her nose.
"You should go back to sleep," he murmurs, stepping back down. "Goodnight, Annie."
"Goodnight." She says, disappointed with her tiredness and watches him cross the corridor and disappear into his room.
Annie lies awake in bed and her eyes have been blinking at the ceiling for an hour now. It’s four in the morning and sleep has left her system entirely. She’s tried tossing and turning and even visited the bathroom, but to no avail, she can’t fall asleep anymore.
With a sigh, her legs swing over the side of the bed and she stands up. The floor is cold even under her socks and she shivers. The window is shut tight so she pulls the curtains open and unlocking the glass pane, sticks her head out.
Freezing cold air hits her squarely in the face but she doesn’t move, letting a breeze blow through her hair. This house seems to be on the side of a sloping hill, she notes, her eyes following a trail of small street lights along a spiralling path moving away and downwards. The rest of the view is dark so she closes the window and decides to take a walk.
Opening the small wooden cupboard, she studies the clothes hanging inside. The night they had arrived, she had chucked her hoodie and pants somewhere in the bathroom before taking a bath, but she hadn’t seen them since. In front of her, hanging neatly on wooden hangers are several moderately thick flannel shirts and some pairs of trousers and she doesn’t have to take them out to know they’re all too big for her, just like the shirt she’s wearing. Anyway, she has no other option. She pulls out two shirts and layers them over herself and steps into a thicker pair of trousers, rolling up the ankles.
Annie closes the door to her room and softly pads across the corridor. Pieck’s room next to hers is quiet and still dark. She descends the stairwell to the first floor and crosses the boys rooms. Reiner’s room is dark but noisy - he’s snoring like a wild animal - and she clicks her tongue. There’s light snoring and a flush of the toilet from the next two rooms - Jean’s and Connie’s. Armin’s room at the very end is silent and she pauses for a second too long in front of his door before she descends the next stairwell.
The house is too dark to explore and Annie doesn’t want to knock into things and wake everybody up. She crosses the kitchen and a sitting room before finding the main entrance where she stops. She has no shoes. Her boots - where are her boots? Oh, but she has to go through the trouble of lacing them up so she abandons her search when she spots several pairs of slippers by a shoe cabinet. Slipping her socked feet into a pair, she unlocks the door and heads out.
Oh it’s cold. It’s so cold, and Annie wraps her arms around herself as she steps over the threshold of the garden bordering their quarters. There’s a cobblestone pathway curving downwards into a gentle slope and she almost loses her balance, still groggy from several days of sleep. Steadying herself on the closest stone wall, she slowly begins her morning walk.
There are wooden houses on either side, neat and clean and picturesque, decorated with hanging plants and trimmed trees and bushes. Some of them are dimly lit within and she supposes the inhabitants have just woken up and, as if to confirm, wispy smoke begins to rise from chimneys. Every inch of land without a structure is densely packed with trees and flowers of all shapes and sizes. The satisfying slap of her slippers against the stone path accompanies her walk and soon, the houses give way to quaint looking shops; none of them are open, but their colourful banners flutter in the mild breeze. Here, glass wind chimes sway and tinkle pleasantly from the low branches of trees that line either side of the street. The storefronts are pebbled and tidy and Annie slows her pace to squint at the signs. Several are grocers, if the drawings of fruits and vegetables on the banners are anything to go by. An array of shops that sell clothes, judging from the mannequins behind locked glass windows. A hatter, with a large straw hat above the storefront serving as a sunshade. Some coffee shops, she guesses, with small tables and chairs by the entryways. A shoemaker - this must be Felipe’s family business store. And then her nose picks up the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread and she halts. Bakeries. Lots of them.
Her last dose of sugar had been the pie on Paradis. Annie wonders what kind of sweets these bakeries sell. There are posters stuck on the walls but she can't understand any of them. Oh well. Maybe she'll come back later when they’re open and find out.
A little further down and once crowded buildings grow farther and farther apart, just as the dense shrubbery gives way to a vast and soft expanse of grass, and soon it becomes clear why. She hears the gentle ripple of water before seeing it - a beautiful, clear lake stretching far and wide into the darkness. Dense fog obscures her view of the sky above her, but she just about makes out the enormous dark shadow of a great landmass on the other side of the lake - mountains.
And by the foot of those mountains - several brightly lit cottages. The settlements. Her father. Pieck's father. Reiner's mother. Muller. Everyone from Fort Salta.
The biting cold nipping at her exposed neck causes her to turn on her heel and begin the slow climb back up to their quarters. She'll come back when it's brighter and go see her father, but for now, she really wants to be in a warmer place. The climb is exhausting and when she reaches the hedge bordering the house, she pauses to look at the dark scenery below - the crisp, fresh air fills her lungs with the realisation that she's alive, in this breathtakingly beautiful village.
When she returns, the house is as quiet as it was when she left. A glance at the clock in the sitting room tells her it’s a little over 4:30 a.m. She crosses into the homely kitchen where a basket of fruits catches her eye - her stomach growls - so she picks up a knife and three apples and climbs the stairs back to her room.
Lost in thought, she’s surprised to find herself idling outside Armin's room, listening to nothing but silence. He must be a very quiet sleeper because she hasn't heard him snore even once during their three days here. Her hand rests on the doorknob.
Should she? Should she not? She shouldn't. She should. She should. He had an unfair advantage over her - he had seen her with her eyes closed for four whole years and then watched her sleep on plenty of occasions on Fort Salta, while she had only watched him sleep once - she should.
The door creaks open and when she steps in, the first thing she notices is how much warmer it is compared to her own. It doesn't really make sense, but her flustered heart - as it always is, whenever Armin is the sole subject of her thoughts - accepts that it's because he is warm, he makes people feel warm and everywhere he goes becomes warm.
She closes the door behind her. It's so dark in here, she can't see anything except a large lump on the bed - and when her eyes adjust to the lack of light, it becomes clear why the lump is so big - there are two blankets on top of him.
But in this darkness, she’s virtually blind - her mission is as good as failed. Without a sound, she rounds the bed to the dresser and strikes a match to light a stumpy candle. It fills the room with a dim glow and it's not as bright as she’d hoped, but it's enough for what she wants to do. The knife and three apples are put down on the dresser and she turns.
There he is, fast asleep, but all she can see is a tousled head of gold, some forehead and half an eyebrow - everything else is concealed under the blankets and out of her sight - and she frowns. This won’t do. Kneeling by the side of the bed on the floor and regarding the sleeping bundle before her, she wonders if she can pull the blankets away from his face, just enough so she can see. Surely, it won’t wake him up?
So she does, and she does it carefully. By one fingertip, the blankets begin their descent. The bridge of his nose climbs in a gentle upward curve - he's sleeping on his left. Eyelids closed in deep sleep, fringed with a set of dark blond eyelashes. They look longer than hers, she thinks. Boyish cheeks and cheekbones, one set sunk so deep into the pillow she can't see. Now the tip of his nose, and she bites back a smile - it's always, always, a little red. A little further and the cupid's bow of his lips makes its appearance. The blanket falls away from his face and she sighs. His lips are parted and Annie finds her gaze lingering on them longer than necessary. She still remembers what it felt like for the first time, to intrude into that gap between his lips and into the space beyond.
Arms crossed on the edge of the mattress, cheek against her forearm - she watches him sleep deeply and peacefully. Four years. Four years he had spent tortured in the agony of talking and talking to a mute crystal rock. It must have been nightmarish, she imagines, to live without the knowledge of when, if at all, someone would wake up. The twinge of guilt in her heart is soothed only by the selfish personal relief and reassurance she finds in the realisation that she’s staring at his closed eyelids with the full knowledge that they will flutter open in a few hours when the sun rises. She’s lucky. She’s the luckiest girl in the world.
What’s left of the world will never cease to talk about the carnage that will now forever be etched into the blood-soaked pages of history - but at the end of it all, she still has him, safe and sound.
Unbridled happiness wells up inside her and a smile breaks through the stoic surface of her face.
She spends what seems to her like an eternity, lost in the invisible waves of air that enter and leave his nostrils, several thoughts in her mind that take long, meandering paths with unexpected turns - when her reverie is broken by the insistent and urgent growl of her stomach. Sighing, she picks up an apple and the knife and cuts it into large cubes, twisting away from the bedside to lean against the dresser and popping them into her mouth one by one. The apple is sweet and it melts on her tongue. The candle flickers and long shadows dance across the walls and ceiling. Annie eats in contentment. This is nice. This is better than her room which is far too big for her, in which she has to sleep alone - and she’s spent far too much time alone - and he is a comforting presence even if asleep.
But apparently, she’s miscalculated the effectiveness of her stealth because a rumble of quiet laughter erupts from the bundle of blankets and she jumps out of her skin.
“S-sorry,” Says the sleeping figure which is no longer sleeping and Annie stares at him, unblinking. Armin’s sleepy grin and groggy morning voice adds more warmth to her skin. “I wanted to be very quiet but I couldn’t help it. You really like to stuff your cheeks.”
Annie colours in mortification. As if being seen after four years with pie packed into her cheeks hadn’t been enough embarrassment, now he had to see her cramming apples into her mouth. Again. But he isn’t mocking her; if anything, the smile on his face is full of love and adoration.
“I woke you up,” She mutters, swallowing her mouthful. “Sorry.”
“No, no,” He shakes his head. “It was such a nice way to wake up - to you.” Annie looks away, unsure of how to deal with his compliments. It will probably take her a very long time to get used to it. “But why are you up so early?” He questions, squinting at the bedside clock. “It’s not even five.”
“I was awake in bed,” She wipes her lips, sitting up straighter. “And then I went out for a walk.”
Armin blinks. “At this time?”
Annie nods. “Yeah. But it’s very cold out. And when I came back… I–I don’t know, I just…” She trails off. What? Wanted to watch you sleep like a creep?
Rustling sheets and the creaking of the bed draw her attention back to him and she swallows nervously - he’s lifting the blankets open and patting the space next to him. “What?”
“Come here," he bows his head in a beckon. "Isn't the floor cold? And-" His drowsy blue eyes study her bulky outline in amusement. "You can take off all the ten layers you're wearing."
"Three," Annie corrects him and he laughs, rubbing his eyes.
"Alright, three. These blankets are warm." He pats the space again, looking at her expectantly.
Taking off her extra clothes isn't as simple a task as he makes it sound - and both of them are bright red in the face by the time she unbuttons the first shirt and drops it to the floor. She’s not even getting naked, but her fingers take far too long to unbutton the second shirt and it only gets worse when the cold hits her like a blizzard. Annie avoids his bashful stare when she pulls loose the strings of the extra trousers and they pool around her ankles. Now she’s left dressed in her last layer of a thin shirt and pants and because it’s too cold to keep standing, she awkwardly climbs into the bed where he pretends to not have stared at her efforts to undress this whole time.
Under the sheets, a new wave of embarrassment washes over them. They are so close. Armin tugs the blankets up to their chins and adjusts the pillow so she has more of it than him. If Annie points her feet forward, they'll touch his, and she's sure there's only less than 15 centimetres of space between their bodies. In the incandescent glow of the candle, his eyes, puffy with sleep, stare into hers, and her eyes, wide awake, stare back.
“It’s warm,” Annie murmurs, quickly losing herself in his soft blue eyes.
“It’s hot,” He responds, staring at her lips.
The collar of his dark blue shirt sticks out under the blankets and with a sudden urge to touch it, Annie finds her fingers reaching out to him. He watches her face as she tugs his collar out, pushing the blankets down to their shoulders in the process.
"Annie?" He whispers, half of the syllables lost in a quiet breath. "Can I… hold you?"
Annie chews the inside of her lip before nodding against the pillow. "Yeah."
The blankets slip further down when his shoulder shifts, arm extending to place his hot palm over the dip of her waist and she blinks rapidly. The thin shirt does nothing to reduce the heat his fingertips press into her skin. His palm comes to lay flat before his fingers splay out wide and when his little finger catches beneath her shirt and brushes against bare skin, Annie sucks in a sharp breath.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't m-mean-" Armin panics, pulling away, but she stops him with a hand around his wrist.
"Can you… keep it there?" She asks, breathless.
His eyes are wide open, all signs of sleep long gone, and they drop to her parted lips before meeting her eyes again. "Are you sure?"
"Mhmm."
She notices his nervous swallow before he settles his palm on her waist again, except this time, his fingers push her shirt up and slide slowly against her skin. Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp - his fingertips are burning fire into her skin and he watches her with enraptured eyes.
"Are you sensitive here?" He questions softly. His fingers don't move and she's thankful for it because just the sensation of his skin directly on hers is so strong, she's having trouble breathing evenly. "I noticed it earlier too, you seem to like it when I… touch you here.” The pads of his fingers dig gently into her waist as if to emphasise where, and Annie almost jolts her body forward in shock.
“I-” She’s trying not to squirm. “Yes, I– Yes.” Armin’s eyes keenly study her every reaction and the steady burn of his gaze over her face causes new heat to pool into her stomach.
If she doesn’t have something to focus on, she’ll combust. His hand isn’t moving - and while she’s grateful for it, it also frustrates her. Her eyes focus on the first button of his shirt - that will have to do - so she pushes forward, raising her trembling fingers to his shirt collars, and focuses on bringing her breathing back to normal with undoing and redoing the first button.
She doesn’t look at him, keeping her gaze resolutely fixed on the round metal slipping into the hole and out of it. Buttoning - inhale. Unbuttoning - exhale. Until right above the button, she sees his throat bob and her attention is drawn away from the rhythmic work of her fingers and to the expanse of skin of his neck.
“Y-you’re going to tear the button out, like that,” Armin’s light chuckle is drenched with nerves. His fingers flutter ever so slightly against the skin of her waist and she draws another sharp inhale.
“I need something to focus on,” Annie replies in an embarrassed whisper. “I… I can’t breathe.”
“Neither can I. Your skin is so… soft.” Without warning, his thumb strokes a languid circle very close to her navel and Annie’s back arches forward with a whimper ripped from her throat. But of course, this brings her even closer to him and it’s a split-second too late when she realises her chest, waist, hips and thighs are pressed up against him.
“A-ah, Annie-!” She raises her eyes to look at his face and – what a sight. His jaws are clenched, eyes shut tight and his ragged breathing fills the minimal space between their lips. They’re so close that if she leaned forward just an inch, she could kiss him. Their legs tangle together and when he opens his eyes, blue and wide and swimming with desire, she urgently pops off the second button of his shirt and smooths the neckline open. His collarbones come into view and she can see the beginning of the defined curve of his chest line.
“Wait-” Armin calls again but the wild thoughts flying around in her head drown him out - her momentarily distracted attention is pinpointing toward the fact that all of her is pressed up against all of him.
His body is hard. Gone is that frail boy from her older memories. She can feel the planes and ridges of lean muscle definition under his loose shirt. Oh he had filled out, and far more than what she had imagined - and it feels so good against her. So good, that fireworks begin to set off inside every part of her that’s touching him. She shifts against him slightly and draws a strangled groan from his open mouth. He looks pained, exhaling hot air against her forehead where it bathes her in a wave of goosebumps.
“C-Can I… touch you?” She asks in a low voice.
Armin bites his lip, eyebrows slanted with the prospect of what he has coming. “Yeah.”
Annie props herself up on her elbow and he rolls onto his back. Shivers wrack her spine as he maintains his firm hold around her waist, digging gentle grooves into her skin. Her other hand presses against the hot skin of his neck and Armin’s breath hitches. She can feel his pulse racing under the heel of her palm. She then slides her hand further beneath his shirt, along the top of his firm and broad shoulders. His skin is smooth and deliciously sensitive, if his erratic breathing is anything to go by. But there's something that's really caught her attention and her head dips.
His Adam's apple. She presses a feather light kiss on it and watches him tilt his head back into the pillow. Blowing on it makes him inhale a shaky breath. A harder kiss rewards her with a rough sigh and punishes her with a quaking spine where his palm slides up with delicious pressure. And finally, what she's wanted to do for a long time - a scrape of her teeth against the delectable protrusion - and the rumble of pleasure in his throat travels down her body and to the junction between her legs. She sighs against his neck in ecstasy when his other hand threads through her hair and combs away the curtain it has formed around her face.
Annie moves down and along the side of his neck. She remembers how his lips felt against her neck back on Fort Salta and attempts to imitate what he did. Heated, open mouthed kisses pepper his skin and the breathy call of her name falling from his lips registers at a place between her legs she's thought of more than once in the last three weeks. His skin is so hot, but she’ll burn him before he burns her. She presses herself further against him, chest to chest, waist to waist, hips to hips and almost loses her balance from how good the friction feels.
Armin's fingers in her hair are gentle but also carry an insistent weight when he tugs at it slowly - twice - and tries to shift his hips away from hers. "Ah… A–Annie wait -"
But she's too focused on his collarbones. She didn't have a chance to see it properly back in his tent. Annie doesn't waste any time - her lips press lazy kisses along the lengths and dips and grooves they create, nudging open the unbuttoned collar of his shirt aside with her nose and chin. His fingers climb up under her shirt to between her shoulder blades - she’s not even wearing a bra - and she whimpers against his chest with an achingly pleasurable curve of her body into his own. His fingers have no business making her body react like this. So she nibbles on the bump on this throat in retaliation.
"A-annie," He struggles to sound normal. "No fair," a pained half-laugh. "I didn't bite your neck you know…"
Annie pauses to look at him. He meets her gaze with heavy lidded eyes and harsh breaths escaping from the gap between his lips. His cheeks are dusted a violent red and the flush creeps down his neck with each rise and fall of his chest.
"You can bite mine too," She finds herself whispering against his lips - and notes him freeze. "If you want."
When she pulls away further, he's wearing a frown, lips pursed, tongue poking a bump in his cheek in consideration of her words. Her confidence wanes.
"S-sorry," She retracts, pushing her weight on her elbow again. "Maybe you don't want to-"
"I do," He murmurs and his firm undertone makes Annie's stomach flip in anticipation. "But do you want me to?" He asks her, albeit a little nervously.
Does she? Isn't the answer clear? And he seems to realise as much, when, the next thing she knows, her elbow gives and her back squarely meets the soft mattress. Her heart hammers away at her chest when she catches a glimpse of his blue eyes, dark and fervid with desire. Elbow propping him up, he leans down and trails a line with the tip of his nose from her temple to her ear and she can't help but squirm. The hand on her back disappears, only to cradle the side of her head when he decides to pepper butterfly kisses along her forehead and down to her jaw. Annie whines under his caresses, rubbing her thighs together - he's not pressed against her anymore, and she hates it. Her fingers find purchase around his shoulders and she tries to pull him against her again, but he carefully keeps his body away from her.
"At least kiss me," she mutters in annoyance and feels his lips form a smile against her ear.
"Impatient?" His low whisper washes into her ear and Annie’s heart skips several beats. He kisses the shell of her ear and she twists her head to try and kiss him but he pulls away with a chuckle that makes her skin tingle in anticipation. Annie bites her tongue to contain her excited nerves - is this how it will be? If she teases him enough, will he return it with twice the passion?
"You know," Armin's breath is hot under her ear and she’s this close to snapping at his torturously slow touches. "I've been wondering about something for a while now."
"What?" She asks, her annoyance forgotten when the hand cradling her head retracts to press a fingertip against the hinge of her jaw. Her lips fall open when it drags a pressurised path down to the pulse point in her neck.
"You told me you're not ticklish," His voice is soft. Her eyelids feel hot and they fall closed.
"I'm not," She breathes.
"Then why-" The finger travels further down her jugular and her neck lifts off the pillow. "Do you shiver so much when I touch… here?" It presses into the base of her neck and her body proves him right, shivering feverishly under his ministrations.
She isn't going to make this hard for him, not when she’s dying to have his weight pressing her into the bed and his lips between hers. So she lifts her chin to meet his intense blue eyes and cups his jaws, bringing his face closer.
"... Because your fingers feel good." The needy admission ghosting on his lips pulls a satisfied grin out of him and Annie finds that it only makes her feel even hotter all over. "Kiss me." she urges, tugging his face down.
"Where?" He raises his eyebrows innocently.
"Quit teasing," She glowers despite her embarrassment.
"Oh, but you teased me just a few minutes ago?" Armin looks like he's enjoying himself and she watches him with a racing heartbeat. He looks so good, with the candlelight highlighting his still-red cheeks and his hair falling over his eyes.
"I'm not as slow as you," She complains and he nods solemnly.
"Well that's because-" and Annie's spine arches off the bed when he slides his hand once again under her shirt to squeeze around her waist, and this time, his thumb presses into her rib-cage. "I discover things about you when I take my time," Her hands grab fistfuls of his shirt behind his back. "Like where you're sensitive…" His nose brushes the side of her neck and she gasps.
"And right now-" He blows on her throat. "I'm going to discover something new."
And like that, his teeth are dragging down her neck. Her hips shoot off the bed, heels digging into the sheets and toes curling. The golden crown of his head brushes her cheek and she cradles it between shaking hands, breathing whimpers of pleasure into his hair.
"A-armin…"
"Hmm?" He hums from a gentle kiss at the base of her throat before another nibble at her neck.
The soft and hard sensations of his lips and teeth make Annie dizzy and delirious; incoherent whispers and whines pour from her mouth. Locks of his hair thread between her restless fingers and her body won't stop squirming in the electricity sparking every nerve ending inside her. And then, he kisses downwards from under her ear to the junction where her neck meets her shoulder and a particularly hot firework explodes in her lower belly.
"O-oh!" She cries out.
He pauses.
"Here?" His murmur fanning her skin sets off more fireworks behind her eyes.
"Y-ye-s," Annie stammers. She doesn't have to say more because he's back there, kissing, sucking and nipping at that delicious spot that's making Annie see stars behind her closed eyelids. It's too much, it's way too much, she needs to feel his weight on her again - so she throws a leg over his waist and yanks him down against her - and they both freeze.
Oh.
So that's why he…
She tilts her chin down. His pants are loose and it’s dark so she can't see anything but it's there. Pressed up against her inner thigh. Hard… very hard. And, she gulps down a set of nerves, he's… much bigger than she had imagined.
Armin isn't breathing above her. Blue eyes blinking wildly, his jaws are clenching and unclenching. The arm bracing himself over her is trembling. When her eyes meet his, he closes them and exhales shaky, heavy breaths through his lips.
"Y-yeah, that's why I told you to wait," His light laugh is forced. "I, uh…"
Annie's brain is short circuiting with just a single thought repeating in rapid fire.
"You want me." She whispers, wide eyes transfixed on his face.
His heavy breathing slows and his voice is soft and gentle. "Of course I want you, Annie."
She reaches a hand up to touch his cheeks and he turns his head slightly to kiss the inside of her palm.
"I… I want you too." She stammers. The space where he's pressed against her, there, it's beginning to go up in flames, and a certain other place is starting to pool wet.
He squeezes his eyes shut and groans under his breath. "I-I know. But… we can't, right now."
Her body goes cold from the unexpected rejection. "What? Why?"
"Uhm," Armin chuckles nervously, extricating himself from the vice grip of her leg - and she’s too shocked to stop him - and collapses on his back next to her. "I'm not uh– ready."
Annie cocks her head, thoroughly confused. "What? You said-" She rolls over on her side to face him. "You said, that after a bath and eating food that we can- I mean-"
"I did say that," He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "But I don't remember what kind of washing up I did, I was so tired and-"
"You're worried about that? " She stares at him incredulously. "That you're not squeaky clean?"
He turns his head to meet her baffled expression, looking nervous and apologetic. "I don't want to be unpleasant for you Annie."
She scoffs, still staring at him with wide eyes. "I don't remember how I washed up either, you know."
Armin laughs, shaking his head at her. "No, you're fine."
Annie glares. "You're doing it again, putting yourself down! I told you not to do that."
He blinks. "Uh, I don't think so-"
"Okay then, how about this?" She huffs in exasperation. "We both need to have a squeaky clean bath. That way we're both putting in equal effort. And maybe then you'll be ready."
"Okay," he whispers, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry. Are you disappointed?”
Her scowl softens a little. Yes, but also… no. He’s putting so much consideration into this while she’s sure most others wouldn’t have cared. She thought she didn’t care either, but when she really thinks about it, the whole act is quite… intimidating to picture. It does sound nice to be a little prepared before… well. With a faint blush, she shakes her head no and he looks relieved.
Satisfied despite the disappointment, she scoots close to him and he extends his arm under her neck, and she rests her head on his shoulder. He's staring up at the dancing shadows on the ceiling and she watches the profile of his face curiously.
"Is that it though?" She asks. "Having a proper bath?"
"Yeah. And… well, a few other things."
"Like what?" She pokes a finger into his cheek and he suddenly seems very uncomfortable.
"Actually it's nothing, just the bath." Armin's trying hard not to panic and she can tell.
"You just said 'a few other things'," Annie raises her eyebrows. "What are they?"
"Annie, I-"
"Hmmm," She squints at him. "Maybe I should just do this again…" She brushes her thigh against his and makes to straddle him when Armin yelps, clamps down on her knee and gently keeps her away from the tent in his pants.
"Okay! Okay, just don't do th-that, right now, please-"
"Then tell me." She smiles at his terrified expression in victory.
"Uh… well I have to trim my nails… and some other things," Armin mumbles, avoiding her scrutinising eyes.
It takes her a minute before the implications of his words strike her.
Butterflies explode inside her body and she has to furiously bite down on her cheeks to keep her composure. Armin was thinking of more things than she had even expected, and a part of her isn't even surprised. He had always been this way, a strategic tactician, and here he was, putting it to use even in the bedroom.
But he's so much more flustered than her and his bright red face makes her want to tease him to hell and back.
"Why?" Annie tries to mask the growing smile in her voice.
"I think– well, I just need to."
"Hmmm," She hums and raises their entwined hands over their heads. Spreading their closed fists open, she studies his slender fingers threading alongside her own. "Your fingers are long. Is there something… you have to use them for?"
She grins into his shoulder when he pinches the bridge of his nose in embarrassment and groans in dismay. "What exactly are you thinking of doing," Annie whispers into his ear. "Ar–min?"
And he shuts her up with a firm kiss which she can't help but giggle into.
"Stop teasing me," he mutters, frowning when he pulls away.
"Oh? But you teased me just a few minutes ago?" She retorts defiantly and he exhales in defeat.
"We have to talk about something else or I'm going to find this very very painful." He mutters with scarlet cheeks, rubbing his nose.
"Alright," Annie relents. It's painful for her too, if she pays attention to her screaming thighs and the wetness between them. She drops their outstretched hands on his chest where he squeezes her fingers and lays still, relishing in the caress of his other hand on her hair. "Want to know what I saw on my walk?"
"Please," His tense shoulders relax under her head and she laughs quietly.
"Well, firstly it was very dark. I think the people here wake up very early, because a few chimneys were already smoking, and I could smell food cooking," She pauses to stretch her legs and notices that he's listening attentively to her. "I saw some shops. Many grocers, a few clothing shops, some odd shops like shoemakers and hatters and a few, uh," She stalls, knowing full well he's going to tease her if she actually says it. "Shops."
His curiosity is piqued at once and she curses under her breath. “What shops?”
“Just some shops,” She shrugs, looking away. “I don’t know, I couldn’t see properly.”
“Oh?” She can almost feel the playful smile in his voice. “So you saw the grocer and the clothing store and the shoemaker and the hatters and then just some… shops?”
Annie begins to squirm away from him and he bursts into laughter, quickly grabbing her waist to prevent her escape. “Oh no no, you’re not running away now.”
“Stop laughing,” She hisses but it makes him laugh harder, only quieting down when she settles on turning her back to him.
“I’m sorry,” He doesn’t sound the least bit sorry. Annie huffs, arms folded on herself. “But, by any chance, do those shops sell sweet bread and cakes?”
She’s quiet and decides to remain so - but loses the fight when she feels him hug her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle. His nose buries in her hair. “Or maybe… doughnuts and pie?”
“If you’re going to make fun of me-,” She begins, annoyed, but Armin shakes his head, kissing the side of her head.
“Never, Annie,” She can’t see his eyes, but the sincerity in his voice makes up for it. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”
They fall quiet for a few seconds before she speaks. “Remember the sugar buns we got to eat before we joined the regiments?”
He smiles against her hair. “Mhmm.”
“Did you ever get them again? After… you know, after I…”
His head shakes. “No. Those were the last times.”
“Oh.”
There’s a beat of silence before he asks. “Do you miss them?”
Does she miss them? She does. In the end, the bloody mission she had been sent on proved to be some of the best years of her life. She missed the barracks, the silly camaraderie, the rigorous training, the food, the occasional sweets, even the cook-off between Sasha and Jean… and everyone on the 104th.
“Yeah.”
“Want to visit the bakeries this evening?” His question takes her by surprise and she twists to look back at his face.
“You want to go?” His smile is relaxed and affectionate.
“Yeah,” She nods, unable to hide a smile of her own and he looks delighted, pecking her fondly on the corner of her lips.
“Okay, actually, we can all go,” Armin decides. “If the others are feeling better by today, we should meet the Chancellor in the morning. Then we can go and look around the village the rest of the day.”
“Sounds good,” She smiles into another sweet kiss and he grins ecstatically. And then she notices the thin line of rose-gold bisecting his face in half.
“Oh, looks like the sun is coming up,” He says, eyes cast to the front where a chink in the curtains glows a soft pink.
“Want to watch the sunrise?” She offers, turning away from him to glance at the growing light outside the window. “It’s the sort of thing you like.”
“I do like it,” He admits with a boyish grin and pats her shoulder as he sits up. “Okay, come on.”
The minute the blankets leave her body, the icy air chills her bones - but she doesn’t have to feel cold for long. Armin draws the curtains aside and pushes the glass window open and then beckons to her, holding the blankets around him open. Annie crosses over and slips inside. With a deep and contented sigh, he crosses his arms - and the blankets - around her middle and they feel the freezing morning breeze blow into their faces and hair.
“This is nice,” He murmurs, resting his chin on the top of her head.
The village stretches out below them and Annie finds herself proven right - they are on the top of a hill. Mist hangs low in the atmosphere and the cobblestone pathway cuts through the side of the sloping hill in gentle spirals and turns, decorated with colourful trees and shrubbery throughout. The shops and storefronts Annie saw in the darkness are bright and noisy and the miniature figures of people waking up for daily life in Kald flit across the grey pavements. Unintelligible calls of greetings and good morning wishes are carried to her in staccato bursts of sound. Far away in the distance, the dull silhouette of several snow-capped mountains floats into view intermittently through the dense fog.
“It looks stunning," Armin says. “I can’t wait to go see all of it.”
She smiles, her hands covering his beneath the blankets.
“I’m glad we’re here.”
