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It's cold, the dead of winter, and Levi is trying not to visibly shiver.
The Underground was always cold but not like this; the wind blew up dirt and rancid smells, but there was no such thing as wind chill or whatever it is that top dwellers call it.
He's doubled up his cloak and covered his face to avoid the biting cold as he gallops forward on his horse, thudding against the frozen ground like a slowing heart beat.
His reconnaissance mission had gone well—unofficial as it was—to confirm that the Titan bodies they'd slain the day before were gone, wasted away into steam. The melted areas of snow and ice had confirmed it. He knows Hanji can use this information, that it's valuable.
But that Erwin will also be pissed. Probably.
Because Levi wasn't ordered to do this, wasn't directed, didn't fall in line with Erwin's command given to the Corps: Stay in tonight, it will be cold and we can't risk anyone's death after yesterday.
Levi has never been one to follow orders, though, if it means he can help and survive.
When he slowly clip-clops back into the barracks, he sees one of the cadets waiting for him to dismount and lead his horse back to the stables. There's no question about where he's been, no surprise at his return, just a simple switching of reins and his horse letting out a whinny of breath that turns white in the air. It seems they were both holding their breath.
"Captain Ackerman," the cadet says, looking a little nervous at addressing humanity's strongest, "Commander Smith asked me to take your horse and—"
"I'm already on my way to his office," Levi grunts. "See that my horse is properly fed and insulated. It was a cold ride back."
The cadet salutes stiffly, the motions of a kid still breaking in the uniform before he breaks his bones, and Levi nods.
The ground is still rock-cold, mud frozen like a pond—another thing that Levi had only heard stories about before he actually saw one—as he makes his way to Erwin's office.
Erwin is a strange man when he's angry, because instead of letting that anger show, he just smiles. He smiles through everything: pain, pleasure, anger, joy.
Levi raps his knuckles against the familiar door of the office twice in quick succession, waiting for the word to enter.
He gets it and pushes the door open, ready for a confrontation about where he's been; but instead, Erwin is simply sitting at his desk, studying a map by oil lamp with tired EYES.
Levi has been under this bizarre man's command for only a year now; only a year since he watched his friends, his family, succumb to the horrors on the other side of the wall. He hated Erwin for a time until he started to invest confidence in his official Commander without even realizing until it was too late.
He doesn't wait for instructions of where to go and settles himself in the chair opposite the large, oak desk stained with years worth of ink by the soldiers who sat there before Erwin Smith.
"You went out," he says without looking up. His white shirt is unbuttoned, wrinkled, and the bolo tie is nowhere to be seen.
"Yes," Levi replies, studying Erwin as he removes the scarf from his face.
"What did you find?"
"The Titans' bodies did completely disintegrate," he confirms. "They steamed for a while because the ice was melted, but they were gone by the time I got there."
Erwin grunts, finally sitting up straight to peer straight into Levi's soul. His eyes are sharper than any blade Levi has ever wielded.
"And why did you decide to defy my orders?" he asks placidly, leaning back and steepling his hands, assessing.
Levi scowls at him and looks away, not willing to meet that cutting stare.
"Because I knew I could find out more and survive," he finally says.
"What you found was indeed useful," Erwin acknowledges. "However, I wish you would trust me enough, Levi, to accept that I have a bigger plan and listen to my instructions."
Levi looks up in surprise and immediately gets caught in that glacial stare; then finds he can't look away. He does let out a dismissive sound but doesn't argue, letting Erwin skewer him through with those icy eyes.
"On a more important note," Erwin continues smoothly, "you look very cold."
Levi blinks at him and then immediately recoils into himself defensively, scowling. "It's really fucking cold up here. I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can," Erwin says, rising to his full height and stepping from around the desk a few paces away from where Levi is sitting pretending not to still shiver. "But do you want to?"
"I don't really have a choice of whether I want to freeze my ass off," Levi hisses, feeling more defensive than usual to feel so small underneath Erwin's impressive build. "I'm not working in a cushy, heated office most of the time."
That earns a crooked smile out of Erwin that dispels the tension and Levi replies with a dismissive but softer sound.
Erwin moves away but doesn't immediately retake his seat, turning his attention to the teacups that live behind his desk. The teapot is steaming and Levi realizes he must have just made a fresh brew.
"Tea?" he offers. "It's peppermint." As if he doesn't already know what Levi's preferred flavor is.
"Thanks," Levi agrees with a nod.
As Erwin prepares two fresh cups of tea, Levi registers that the office somehow feels just as cold as the outside. There's no windcchill, but the stillness is almost worse.
"Here," Erwin says, interrupting Levi's thoughts as he holds out a steaming teacup.
"Thanks," Levi replies genuinely as he takes a cautious sip, correct about how hot it really is.
As expected, Erwin returns to his chair, settles into the aged leather with a creak—another hand-me-down from commanders past—and refocuses his gaze on the map.
Levi just studies him and takes another sip of hot tea; it warms his bones. But Erwin still hasn't touched his own and somehow that bothers Levi.
There's so much ice in the room: Erwin's eyes, the air, the cold creeping in as the oil lamp burns down to the wick.
"Erwin," Levi says, standing up gracefully as he sets his cup down. "Drink your damn tea before it gets cold."
Erwin just looks at him, gaze uncharacteristically surprised in a way that makes Levi feel powerful.
"I could say the same to you, Captain Ackerman," he replies, glancing at the teacup Levi has set down. "You're the one who was out on a horse in the dead of winter to find steaming bodies."
Levi snorts and stands up, making his way around the desk to settle his unwavering stare on Erwin.
"So?"
"So, aren't you cold?" Erwin retorts. Now he's forced to look up from where he's still seated and Levi cages him in, crowding his space as he slots right between his legs, looking down right into Erwin's blue eyes—water, melting, mortal.
When they kiss, it goes like a song Levi knows, something he'd hum when he's working or riding or not thinking. It's as natural and familiar as the stomp of hooves over frozen ground, the knowledge that death is only one snowy day away, that warmth is something to be studied from afar for survival.
But as Erwin pulls Levi into his lap with a sigh, his eyes half-lidded and tired, he's flesh and bone and warmth. A cold man in a worn-out chair that heroes are supposed to inhabit.
Levi kisses him back, reveling in the heat of lips, and he believes for a moment that warm spaces on the ground don't always equate to death. He believes that Erwin's plan could end in melting snow. He believes that hope is possible.
And they sit there for a long time, unspeaking, two men enjoying each other's warmth under the encroaching cold from behind the door.