Chapter Text
Zeke is fucking persistent, Eren will give him that much. In the two months since Eren was first contacted by the guy, he’s gotten more offers to move to Marley than he’s ever received words of praise from his coach. Zeke even promised that Eren could still skate for Paradis. To be fair to Zeke, Levi is exacting in his corrections and his sparse compliments come in the form of appreciative grunts and begrudging, “not bad, kid,”’s.
Not like he’d ever want to leave. Eren considered it, for a brief, two-day period, of an illustrious career with Marley’s finest and reconnecting with his dad’s side of the family. But, Eren has a lot to lose. His partner, for one, and his childhood home. Also, Marley’s pair skating energy is all divested into their shining couple, any other pairs trailing far behind in skills and funding. Men’s, sure, women’s definitely, but looking for a skating partner in Liberio who’s not already with someone? Not a chance.
Figure Skating Updates @fsupdates Jul 18
Eren Jaeger spotted with Zeke Yeager outside Warrior Arena
ALT TEXT: Two men are hugging one another. Eren Jaeger has shoulder-length, brown hair and has his back facing the camera. Zeke Yeager is facing the camera. They are standing in front of the Warrior Arena.
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anya @yeagerisms Jul 18
no way this is realhitori | suffering from hiatus @jaegrmns Jul 18
i'm actually so?????
daily warriors @warriorsdaily Jul 18
i'm not supposed to reply with this acc but i'm so in shock LIKE WTF
piecko solos @haranguan Jul 18
ALT TEXT: Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej are sitting at a table. Shane says, "I've connected the dots," to which Ryan says, "You didn't connect shit." They both point their fingers accusatorily.
Carl Wheasty @Carl4012467 Jul 18
you guys are actually delusional 🙄piecko solos @haranguan Jul 18
ratio
lina cw: hotd @argtoorus Jul 19
Proof Eren Jaeger is switching to Team Warriors: a 🧵
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Eren turns off his phone with a sigh, trying to ignore the countless articles of speculation and gossip that pop up when he puts his name in the search bar. The articles are all sensationalism, and every bit of so-called evidence was an incident beyond Eren’s control. Well, not entirely beyond his control. He chose to go to Liberio with his parents for a brief vacation, staying an extra two days as his parents took the train into the heart of Marley. He chose to meet his long-lost half-brother at the rink he works at. The worst is, he chose to give him an uncomfortable bro hug outside.
Somehow, a fan on Twitter both spotted and recognized Eren hugging Zeke, a smidgen of information enough to cause international uproar in the figure skating fandoms. Eren thinks they’re all fucking nuts. Still, with his and Mikasa’s virtually non-existent social media presences, there’s nobody to correct the rumours flying about.
Speaking of, Eren’s got a bone to pick with Erwin. Erwin heads the main Paradisian club, the one that churns out stars. Levi might be their coach, but Erwin is responsible for every other detail that gets them to the national and international stages. Meaning, Erwin is the one who banned Eren from ever having an official account, so the only thing he’s got access to is a private BeReal and an Instagram under an unrecognizable username. Something about being “too opinionated” and “scaring off sponsors.” A load of bullshit is what it is.
Point is, Eren’s angered a lot of people. Crazy fans and crucial sponsors alike, and he doesn’t have any public platform to fix this. Which leads him to Erwin, who is a supreme pain in the ass and refuses to take him to Zackly, head of the PSF.
Erwin says, “Eren, the Paradisian skating Federation is too busy to deal with your fuckups.”
Eren is so close to tearing out his hair. “But how am I supposed to deal with it if you won’t let me have a—”
“Eren, don’t worry. We’ll find a solution to that.” Erwin is unsmiling but his eyes aren’t unkind. The man is kind of insane, so Eren has faith at least that he’ll pull something out of his ass.
What Eren doesn’t expect is the meeting between Erwin, Levi, Mikasa and him after practice two days later.
Erwin and Levi look at each other, silently passing messages before Erwin breaks eye contact to address Mikasa and Eren. “After much consideration, we’ve decided that you will be allowed an Instagram account. Mikasa, I know you don’t want one, but you’re required that or a Twitter at least. Unfortunately, we need to prove to people that Eren isn’t going to ditch us for Marley without management interfering. If we say something, it seems forced or like we’re covering something up. Eren, you can post candid photos up to twice a week, but nothing too ugly.”
Eren’s done a pretty good job at staying neutral throughout this frankly humiliating talk-down, but at that, he can’t help but grimace. Who does Erwin think he is? Eren doesn’t plan on purposefully sabotaging his career with ugly photos of his nostrils. He’s smart enough to leave those for the private Instagram.
Also, Mikasa with a Twitter? Erwin knows she values her privacy, and Eren knows how Mikasa can let the onslaught of opinions from every corner of the internet cut deeper than she’d care to admit. Not about her skating, of course, Mikasa is the best and she knows it. But about other things, her stature, her hesitance in interviews, all the things that make Mikasa “unmarketable.”
“This is my problem. Mikasa doesn’t need to get involved,” Eren retorts, slightly harsher than he meant if the frown Mikasa makes is anything to go by.
“Kid’s not wrong, Erwin,” Levi finally says. Whatever Erwin is plotting must be headache-inducing if Levi isn’t blindly following his every word.
“I know, but we’re presented with a golden opportunity to shift the narrative about you two. The stoic, professional, façade off-ice coupled with your technique and skill on-ice worked as an angle for a while, but with others so quickly to interact with fans and divulge about their lives, their accessibility makes them more popular than you.”
“What he’s saying is you’re boring motherfuckers that people find easy to hate.”
“Fine! I’ll do your stupid schedule.” Eren gets up to leave, eager to head home and forget about this disaster he accidentally caused. Mikasa must be angry with him for being forced into this position.
Levi looks away as Erwin gestures for Eren to sit back down. “We’re not done here. Part of the reason we need both of you active is that you are going to be the next Virtuemoir.” Mikasa pales, her hands clenched in her lap, small tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Eren sees red. Mikasa is being punished for his mistake and the fans’ delusions. She’s already established how he feels for him as a friend, a brother, anything but romantic, and Eren can’t act. They’re not Virtuemoir, far from it.
“Actually,” Erwin clarifies, “we need you to be more than Virtuemoir. We’ll book you for interviews, and when they ask, which they will, you don’t deny. Your accounts are for dropping hints. Never confirm, never deny.”
“No, I don’t get it. I understand changing things up, I get that I need to solve my problems, but we don’t need to fake a relationship. What if we meet someone we actually want to date?” Eren certainly doesn’t — a string of failed relationships with “Mikasa” or “skating” being thrown around in the breakup-inducing fights was enough to turn him away for life — but Mikasa deserves to find someone who makes her happy. “We chose to skate. All this bullshit is for Hollywood, not us.”
Eren reaches his hand out towards Mikasa, seeking some semblance of comfort, of agreement that they wouldn’t take this laying down, but he finds none. She keeps her hands in her lap, her head hung. Slowly, she raises her eyes to stare at Erwin, a silent challenge Eren has no part in. Every piece in this machine of a plan keeps him in the dark, as even Mikasa, his partner, knows more than him. He’s infuriated.
Mikasa asks, “What do we get from this?” Then, and only then, does she take Eren’s hand.
Erwin smiles for the first time all meeting. “Sponsors, fans, people willing to buy merch and watch interviews and videos. It gives us enough to renovate and more, enough that you each get twenty percent of the profit from any additional sponsors beyond our regulars.” Mikasa’s eyes widen, the traitor.
Eren tugs her out of the locker room to where the buzz from the vending machines drowns out any chance of them being overheard. “I can’t believe you’re even thinking about this,” Eren pleads. “We can’t just lie to people for money, and I don’t want to fuck things up even more than I have.”
Mikasa smiles, a soft one that barely reaches her eyes. “I’m not worried about that. It’s Levi.” Mikasa shudders and now as Eren looks, properly looks, he sees that she’s been holding back on him. “You know he goes on the ice less and less. He wears extra layers because of how the cold hurts his joints. Erwin told me he needs surgery but keeps putting it off. Turns out all the money he made ran out getting us here.” If it involves Levi, Mikasa will do anything.
Eren won’t, can’t, say no, as much as this scheme goes against everything he believes in because Mikasa never asks for anything, never complained when Eren said he wanted to go competitive, when Eren got them wrapped up in this in the first place she said nothing. She’s been holding everything back from the moment they met, and only now does she ask for something. How can Eren deny her, turn away from her soft-spoken request and trembling fingers?
So, he kisses her forehead and says, “Okay, I’ll think about it,” even though he knows what the verdict will be.
They return to the locker room and Eren says nothing. Mikasa asks for two days to consider and Eren says nothing. Eren’s keeping his mouth shut, for her sake, for his coach’s sake, for Erwin’s so he can get them their cash without fuss.
As Eren heads out, Levi stops him for a moment. Judging by the regretful look Levi gives him, he’s not exactly pleased by this news either. Eren bites his tongue, trying not to shake some sense into man and make him realize that Erwin and Mikasa are doing this for him.
“Hold the excuses, Levi,” Eren says.
“I wasn’t going to make any. I trust Erwin and I know Mikasa can pull this off. Can you?” In moments like these, Eren remembers just how much he can despise Levi, that he hates how Levi underestimates him at every turn. Eren doesn’t scream subtle, but there’s a lot at stake.
Eren opens his mouth to argue as Levi cuts him off, “I don’t mean it like that. You’ve got shit for brains, but I know you want this to work. I saw it in there.” Levi gestures vaguely to the locker rooms and the ice. Quietly, he continues, “It’s not easy pretending, that’s all.”
Eren tries to ignore the roil of his stomach and the almost pitying way Levi looks at him as he says that because Eren stopped thinking about what could have happened between Mikasa and him a long time ago. Dwelling isn’t a good idea for anyone, and Eren knows that trying anything between them could end their partnership, their careers, and possibly their entire friendship.
He brushes off Levi’s careful hand on his shoulder and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” closed off and bitter, which betrays the fact that Eren absolutely knows what Levi is talking about.
Eren gets home, dropping his bag in the garage meant for two cars without bothering to take his still sweat-covered skating clothes inside. Gross, Eren is well aware, but he’s had a really long fucking day, so cut him a little slack. The house is too big for two people, even if one of the two is someone as messy as Eren. Armin is a good roommate, which makes their lives easier but also a lot emptier without familiar clutter bunching up in corners of the house. Really, Eren’s at fault for insisting his parents not sell his childhood home. Instead, they left it barren in Eren’s hands.
His parents are spending a year abroad before buying an apartment downtown, with more walkability and less driving around. Eren plans on seeing them both in Odiha for the Grand Prix Marley, but right now, they’re enjoying an empty nester and remission celebration holiday around Marley. When Eren found out at fifteen the extent of his father’s life before marrying his mom and before his mom’s oncologist finally cleared Carla for remission at eighteen, he would have never thought it possible. They deserve it, Eren knows.
Another part of moving on, “letting go,” was supposed to be selling the house, which stung too much for Eren. He gets it, that the house is haunted by the lingering of chemo treatments, the drains still damaged with the clumps of hair washed down there. But, Eren argues, it’s the home he was brought back to after being born, still pink and ugly the way all newborns are. He’s held birthday parties and suffered through study sessions and measured his height against the walls. It’s home.
When Eren heard the news, he immediately contacted his university to drop out of residence, and he convinced Armin to move in with him too. It would save them both the costs of residence, which Eren knows is the reason Armin is attending the University of Shiganshina on a full tuition scholarship rather than the more prodigious universities in Stohess or Mitras, both considerably more expensive. Living in a literal house should have made Eren the Party Guy™, but between skating and school and his job, Eren hasn’t been able to have the full university experience.
Well, sacrifices must be made if Eren plans on graduating and making it to the Olympics.
Eren stuffs one of his notebooks and his laptop into his backpack, home for barely an hour before leaving for his shift. Sure, he could have stayed at the rink or clocked in early, but after a melodramatic exit Eren would only look stupid sitting in his car, waiting for the right time to leave. Besides, today is a Saturday, so he didn’t bring course notes with him or other schoolwork to the rink. Armin works both afternoon shifts on Saturdays and leaves early enough to make it to his next job. Armin is a little crazy, but if he wants to get out of the swirling vortex that is Shiganshina, then he must be. Eren likes his Saturdays, as hectic as they are, for the brief overlap he has with Armin. For two guys working at the same coffee shop, their shifts don’t often align, Eren’s daytime practices on the outskirts of town taking up most of his days.
Armin used to live in the apartment above the coffee shop with his parents, then grandpa, but now Eren’s physiotherapist and Armin’s best friend lives up there. Armin first met Marco during the sale of the apartment, when Grandpa Arlert was moved to a nursing home and Armin into Eren’s house, and he was later surprised when Marco and him were in some of the same biology classes.
Eren should be jealous of Armin and Marco’s close relationship — sometimes, he still is, like today walking in for his shift and seeing the two of them poring over a project or article Eren is way too stupid to understand — but he’s Armin’s childhood best friend, and that comes with dirt that Marco can never uncover.
He changes into his work uniform and wraps the apron around his waist tight enough to make himself suffocate. Eren pretends it gives him good posture rather than squishing all his organs. Eren’s worked at the café for almost a year and he has no intention of losing his job. Its location is hard to beat, close to campus but not so close that Eren’s forced to serve the idiots in his classes. And Ness, the owner and manager, is a chill guy who’s more than understanding of Eren’s erratic schedule.
“Hey, guys,” Eren says, breaking up Armin and Marco’s huddle behind the counter. Today seems like a relatively slow afternoon, a relief for Eren’s aching feet.
“Hey, Eren.” Marco smiles at Eren warmly. Fuck. Eren can’t even be tired anymore. Somehow Marco’s positivity spreads to everyone around him, making him an absolute saviour during busy hours and when dealing with nightmare customers.
Eren decides that Marco is a pretty reliable guy and is probably too nice to tell Eren the blunt truth about his predicament. So, he’s the perfect candidate for appeasing Eren in this situation. “Marco, how do you feel about figure skating scandals?”
Surprisingly, Marco pales. He says, “No thanks. I’ve had enough of those for a lifetime. I’ll take my break now.” Marco walks out back as fast as possible without running.
Weird. Armin and Eren side-eye each other before deciding to postpone speculation on whatever that was in order to tackle Eren’s shit.
“Remember my major fuck up?” Eren asks.
“There have been many, Eren. Be more specific.”
Eren scoffs in mock hurt. “Rude. I mean, the most recent one.” Armin’s eyes light up with understanding. “Basically, Erwin wants me and Mikasa to fake date and become media darlings to win a bunch of sponsorships.”
Armin laughs, “Oh, I know. Mikasa already called and told me.”
Eren groans and hangs his head. Sometimes, his two best friends have a freaky psychic connection. “I hate it when you guys do that.”
“Well, how else were we supposed to check up on you during your emo phase?”
“Dark times.” As much as Eren wants to forget the period when he exclusively listened to Imagine Dragons and Twenty-One Pilots, fucking Armin will never let him.
Armin disrupts their moment of silence, the one that occurs after every mention of the Dark Ages. They’re held in awe of Eren’s sheer angsty teen energy and shame that they were all subject to those crimes against humanity.
“So, what’s the move?”
“I think—I think I want to do it.” Eren’s voice is meek at the admission only Armin seems to pull from him.
“I knew you’d say that,” Armin says eventually, “but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
Armin places his hand on Eren’s shoulder, letting that familiar weight steady Eren enough for him to find the words to explain. “I mean, I’ve got bills to pay and I can’t exactly afford to be flying across the world all the fucking time. Mikasa did the math, and she thinks that twenty percent of profits could be up to forty grand. That changes my fucking life.”
Eren fiddles with the strings of his apron then turns to steam milk. The routine of practicing latte art is almost therapeutic, a small way of keeping his hands distracted. Eren then realizes he can’t really think over the sound of the milk steamer, so he has to just stand there and force out all of these feelings and thoughts to Armin. He becomes acutely aware that they’re standing in a public space, even though customers are seated far from hearing range. Eren’s trying, okay? He really is.
Armin fills the gap. “You still wouldn’t agree if Mikasa hadn’t asked.”
“Yeah.” Eren swallows. “You know how she is. This is important to her.”
“Do you want me to talk you out of it?”
“No. I don’t know. I feel crazy. I shouldn’t even be considering it.”
Armin shakes his head. “I think you don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Wow. Thanks, man.”
“Let me finish. But I get why you want to. Just, call me man? When you’re off in Russia or whatever and you need an out, I’m only a phone call away.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Eren pulls Armin in for a hug. This brief moment is quickly interrupted when Marco returns, wringing his hands.
“Sorry, it’s just that Hannes is out back and you guys know him a lot better than I do.”
“Cool,” Eren says, pulling himself together. Dealing with Hannes is a task Eren usually takes up, having known Hannes through his dad for years. He also has a lot less remorse about kicking Hannes out of the back parking lot reserved for deliveries and employee breaks should the situation call for it.
Hannes is sprawled across the small stoop. Eren searches for the bottle Hannes is inevitably holding. “Hey, man. Time to get up.” Eren shakes Hannes gently before starting to push him upright. Hannes blinks slowly, life returning to his dull, hungover eyes. 6 p.m. on a Saturday is a pretty pathetic time to end a bender but it’s been Hannes’ routine for as long as Eren’s worked here.
“Eren! Good to see you, kid.” Hannes uses Eren’s arm as leverage to get himself upright.
“It’d be nice to see you when you’re not drunk,” Eren retorts. Eren hauls Hannes inside and to the break room. “You’re lucky it’s not busy today.”
Eren grabs a mug and fills it with water. Hannes takes it gratefully, trying to stave off his ensuing headache. “How’s life?” Hannes asks.
“Not bad. How’s yours?” Eren winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. There was a period when Hannes recovered, got his six months sober chip, then one year, then two. Eren remembers his heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach when he heard that Hannes fell off the wagon.
“Oh, well. My buddy’s gotten real serious about this girlfriend of his, so I’m looking for a new apartment starting in August.” Judging by the liquor expenses Hannes has no doubt racked up, finding an apartment within budget will be no easy task. Shiganshina’s recently become the latest victim of a series of government improvement projects, which means a lot of gentrifying with the same small city problems. Wait…
“Why are you staying at a friend’s?”
“Jeez, kid. Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Eren thinks about how Hannes hasn’t mentioned his wife in ages, instead hovering around Eren and Armin’s work like they’re his only real friends and it all clicks. How did Eren miss so much happening in his life?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t blame you. You must be pretty busy being an international superstar.” This gives Eren pause. Sure, he’s busy, but he’s never thought about Hannes more than fleetingly this past year. Now, Eren remembers how Hannes always drove Eren to practice when his parents were at the hospital or made sure Eren wasn’t drowning during his miserable teen years. Hannes is good to Eren, even when he’s a noisy old drunk.
Armin will be gone in over a month, off to Mitras as a second-year transfer student. And the house has three bedrooms anyway. What can go wrong? “Hannes,” Eren starts, “do you want to stay at my place once the month is up? Just until you get on your feet and maybe earn a nine-month chip.” Besides, with Eren’s new source of income, he should be fine without a renter. That and the ad that’s been up for over a year on Craigslist still hasn’t gotten any takers.
“Really?” Hannes breaks out into his easygoing smile, a real one. “You’d do that for an old man like me?” Hannes exaggerates. He’s barely over forty.
“Sure. A college guy and an old man is definitely a sitcom plot.” Eren checks the clock hanging in the break room and swears. “I’ve been back here too long. Stay there until you feel better then go home, you hear me?”
“Yessir.” Hannes mock salutes and Eren turns to go, entirely surprised by this turn of events. All he needs to do now is tell Armin about their soon-to-be surprise roommate. And then Eren remembers the hornet’s nest of problems he needs to clear away before causing new issues. Oh well. He’ll tell Armin another day.
Practice the next day is undeniably awkward. The chill of the rink cuts deeper than usual and everything is distracting. Eren often feels Mikasa’s stare linger on the back of his neck, but when he turns to look at her, she seems to be paying attention to everything but him. Their lifts are atrocious, so Levi doesn’t even bother getting them to try throw jumps and twist lifts, both because they would be “a fucking eyesore” (Levi’s words, not his) and because they would be a threat to his and Mikasa’s safeties.
When Eren tries to remove one of his hands to switch to the second pose in their lift sequence, Mikasa continues to grip his shoulder He loosens the hold of his hand once more, but Mikasa doesn’t budge, risking falling onto Eren’s head.
“Mikasa, I’m going to put you down now,” Eren says. The trick to lifts is the momentum in the entry, dynamic and explosive. Eren isn’t actually strong enough to hold Mikasa in the air for extended periods of time, like the near minute she’s been stuck in that position.
“Eren, wait!” Mikasa pleads.
Eren grits his teeth, hoping through sheer force of will that his arms won’t give out under her. “I can’t lift you forever.”
“Fine, okay!” She swings her legs up and shifts her weight into her shoulders, making for an easy dismount despite the horrible lift itself. Eren doesn’t get what Mikasa’s move is.
After that trainwreck, Levi shouts from the megaphone he adores carrying that their lifts are absolute dogshit and that he has better things to do, leaving Mikasa and Eren staring dejectedly at his retreating form. Words of encouragement are rare treasures at Scout Arena, but it’s been a long time since either of them have performed so poorly as to be deemed dogshit in Levi’s eyes. Mikasa is probably taking this worse, since her no-fucks-given attitude doesn’t extend to her cousin and only family.
Eren gives her a way out. “Mikasa, can we just skate in circles?”
He watches as she swallows, ducking her head as if she’s still wearing her scarf. Eren doesn’t consider it his, he hasn’t for many years. Mikasa nods wordlessly, reaching her arms out towards his.
“Why are you avoiding me, Mikasa?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. And what the fuck was up with that lift?” His hold on Mikasa stays firm as he questions her. They should probably be having this talk in the locker room, but Levi’s long since abandoned their fruitless practice, no doubt bitching about it to Erwin in his office. The rink is empty and Eren is very much in favour of trying to get a little bit done, even if it is the very simplest of pair figure skating concepts.
Mikasa still skates steadily as she stumbles over her words. “I want to turn down the offer,” she says, as if that explains everything.
Eren stops suddenly, letting her words turn over in his head. “What the fuck are you on?”
“I just—I feel guilty. I know you don’t want to, and I can’t make you lie like that.” Mikasa sniffles, the tears in her eyes conveying the words she sometimes struggles to put together. “You’re a really honest person, Eren. I know you don’t like lying and I know that even if people want way too much from us, you still don’t think they deserve to be lied to. I don’t want to turn you into something you’re not for money.”
Oh, the glances and the mess-ups and the avoidance make a lot more sense now. Eren cups her hands and moves them away from her face. “I want to do it. For my sake,” Eren lies. “Besides, you can’t make me do anything, anyways.”
They both laugh, relieved their dynamic’s gone back to normal. “My parents can’t travel forever and they lost all the money they thought they’d get from selling the house, so I could actually really use it. If there’s anything left over, then I guess it helps cover the figure skating costs.” At that, Eren smiles ruefully. It’s not his fault the sport they’ve dedicated the rest of their lives to costs a damn fortune, but it makes his life needlessly complicated.
“If you say so, Eren,” Mikasa says tentatively. She smiles and takes his hand. “Now can we try that lift again?”
“Why do you want to get it so badly? We’ve done it every other day just fine.”
“I—It’s stupid, really.” But Eren sees Mikasa’s clenched fists, her determination and grit for something inconsequential in the long run, and he realizes that it’s not just about the lift. Not for Mikasa.
“The lift’s not a metaphor. Our whole scheme isn’t going to crash and burn because of today,” Eren says.
Mikasa bristles at Eren’s suggestion before her cheeks pinken with embarrassment. It’s not often that Eren catches her off guard like this. “I know that Eren. I really, really need this to work. Figure skating is the one thing I know how to do. I don’t know what I’m doing with fans and relationships and everything else, Eren, and I need to be confident that I’ve still got something.”
Mikasa is a lot of things — capable, kind, smart — but even she gets wrapped up in her own head at times. “With all due respect,” Eren says, “that’s the most bullshit thing I’ve heard in my life. You are the champion of pair figure skating and that doesn’t change because we decide to look kissy-kissy on camera. And if you’re so stressed, why do this? We can get sponsors just by existing on the internet without all the extra publicity.”
Eren brushes her bangs away from her face. “It’s okay to be selfish, Mikasa. You don’t owe Levi your life.”
“That’s not who I am, Eren. I can’t watch him suffer and do nothing.” Mikasa is doing this for the right reasons. Not for her own financial gain. Eren has no right to do anything less than support his partner. “Don’t you want to do this, too?”
Eren stands up straight, having forgotten his earlier lie. “Yeah, I do. That doesn’t change anything.” Eren turns his head away, stubborn in his defense. Eren regrets saying anything. He knows Levi is a soft spot and he knows that Mikasa has a complicated relationship with owing people, but he chose to say that shit anyways. It’s a tired argument, one that’s caused fights across the years that usually have Mikasa going to Armin and them being mad at him until everything cools down a few days later.
“I’m sorry Mikasa,” Eren says eventually. He’s not sorry for saying what Mikasa needs to hear, but he hates making her feel defensive around him. “We’ll talk to Erwin tomorrow and get everything in a contract. If we have to do all this then we better get our money.” Mikasa takes Eren’s hand and leads them off the ice. They’ve spent too long arguing and getting nothing done.
“We’re not very good at being in love,” Mikasa laughs. “Hot chocolate truce?” While the rink’s hot chocolate machine is nothing special, it’s the highlight of after-practice breakdowns and make-ups and gossip sessions. Sometimes, Eren forgets people use the machine other than them.
“Thanks, I owe you.” Eren slings his arm around Mikasa. Ever since his growth spurt, Eren’s found every opportunity to lord their seven-centimetre height difference over her.
“You owe me a lot more than a hot chocolate,” Mikasa teases. “You’re the biggest hot chocolate leech in the history of ever.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Usually, Eren makes a little jab about how much Mikasa loves him, which she must if she puts up with him like she does, but with the looming fake relationship it feels wrong.
They quickly clean their skates and pack up, eager to head to the heated parts of the arena now that they’ve cooled down. Levi and Erwin are in their secret lair and Hange’s got everyone else working in the off-ice studio, so the arena feels empty. It’s Eren’s and Mikasa’s, pretty much.
The little machine beeps with the strong hot chocolate first, Eren’s favourite, then Mikasa puts in another fifty cents for hers. They let the whirr of the machine fill the comfortable lull their conversations tend to head towards before Eren says suddenly, “We’ve got this. We’re gonna be the best fake couple the world has ever seen.”
Mikasa giggles and holds up her pinkie, ready to make the deal official. Eren loops his with hers, their seal now unbreakable. Eren doesn’t delude himself about the challenge of this elaborate lie, but he and Mikasa have done far harder things.