Alcohol had never been good for Reiner—not that he had much experience. Wartime hadn’t allowed him many moments to celebrate, or any moments for a clouded mind. Not that he needed much help with the latter point, ever since returning from Paradis it felt as if he were in a haze. Somewhere between a dream and nightmare, between hero and villain.
Or perhaps it had been Paradis that was the dream, one where he could have joined the military police, stayed safely distant from the walls and the danger beyond it. A dream where he wouldn’t have worried for his father’s approval, his family’s acceptance. Where he wouldn’t have been forced so young to feel the stones of hatred thrown, the responsibility thrust onto his adolescent shoulders.
“Shit,” he finally spoke after what must have been almost a half an hour of stumbling around Liberio. They had only just arrived that morning, preparations underway for the festival the following day. He should have slowed down, learned from Colt’s painful hangover earlier that day not to drink too much. But where Colt had drank from joy and excitement, Reiner had clutched onto his bottle as his only hope to return somewhere else. Somewhere better.
Leaning up against the alley wall, Reiner’s focus drifted.
“Fuck yes!” The morning sun was just beginning to rise as Eren yelled. Still hanging upside down, his wires taught between two branches, he looked like an angel. His hair fell tousled by gravity, eyes made only brighter by the sunrise behind him, grin lopsided and yet so very true to himself.
“Alright lets get you down,” Reiner laughed, eyes still trailing as Eren flipped out of position and safely back onto the ground. He’s a devil, remember that.
It was hard to remember, though, when Eren clapped him on the shoulder with a honest, “Thanks.” It was even harder to remember it when Eren looked at him with a innocent smile and flushed cheeks from hanging upside down.
Honestly Reiner had been surprised Eren asked his help with ODM gear again. After all, he had mastered the balancing and anyone within earshot of Jean Kirstein’s bragging knew that he was better with swinging around than nearly anyone else. But Eren had still asked him, wanted to spend time with him.
Surely there had been a reason that all these years later had slipped from Reiner’s mind. Because in the end, the reason wasn’t important. What had been important was feeling Eren’s joy and determination, far worse and far more important was feeling something tug in the pit of his stomach.
He wanted to hold this moment in his hands and cherish it, cherish Eren. If only he could do that, shove aside his orders, his responsibility, his guilt, in favor of trying to love this other boy.
Because if Reiner was truthful to himself, and he rarely ever was, that was what he craved. He longed to give into the teenage fantasies of romance that he thought would never be possible. The warrior wanted to love and be loved in return, for someone to see past all of the flaws that so glaringly stuck out to him.
So if he noticed how Eren’s hand lingered on his jacket for a moment longer than it should have, could he be blamed? It was the exact gentleness he hopelessly wanted.
“You probably shouldn’t fall asleep here,” a voice woke him from his stupor. A familiar voice that sent fear and comfort straight through Reiner’s heart.
But no, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t meant to be here—he had no way of getting here undetected, right? This had to be some trick of the mind, deluding him once again. It wasn’t the first time like this had happened and it wouldn’t be the last.
“No I guess it isn’t,” Reiner finally looked at the man that had spoken. At first glance, he seemed as broken by the war, tattered clothes, a missing leg and shoddy crutches, long hair covering the bandages where an eye presumably had been.
But he wasn’t broken—Reiner could see as much when he met that familiar eye, steadfast and afire with the will to survive. The eye glinted off of the rising sun in a way that shouldn’t have sparked something inside Reiner but it had.
But still. It couldn’t be.
“Shouldn’t the Vice Chief get some rest?” the question should have sounded well meaning and innocent but all it truly had done was twist the knife in further.
Reiner chuckled hollowly as he shook his head, “The Vice Chief should do a lot of things. Haven’t been able to manage most of them.”
“Is that right?” the voice was closer now, needling into the blonde’s psyche. Why couldn’t he just let it go, let go the feelings he had held all those years ago, let go of the confusion that it was Eren beside him now? The fantasy was too intoxicating, though, the pull of it too strong.
Reiner Braun was not known as a man of good ideas. His hand could reach out now and lay flat on the stranger’s chest, feeling the steady heartbeat and rhythmic breath underneath his palm, “Yeah.” He swallowed audibly before continuing, barely above a whisper, “You know, you remind me of someone I knew.”
“Do I?” The stranger leaned into his palm until nearly all of his weight had moved from the crutches and toward Reiner.
Up close, the eye was no longer slightly familiar, no, it couldn’t be anyone else’s. The fire behind his eyes all those years ago was a vision seared into Reiner’s mind.
He opened his mouth to speak, to scream, to cry, to do something. Before he could, the all-too familiar voice spoke again, “Took you long enough. I knew you weren’t always the brightest, but I didn’t think you were that stupid.”
“Hey,” Reiner frowned, the alcohol dulling the real dread that he should have been feeling with Eren so near to him. It made it easier to pretend.
Eren’s expression softened at that, only slightly, but still enough that Reiner had noticed. It didn’t last long, though, until the cold mask was back on, “Why haven’t you tried anything yet?”
“Why haven’t you? I deserve it,” Reiner’s gaze dropped to where the crutch had clattered on the floor and where Eren’s hand now pressed into his chest. Vaguely, he could feel the wetness on his chest, where Eren had inevitably cut himself in case the worst happened and he had to transform. He should have been more concerned about that but emotions won him over.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“You’re crying.”
“Oh,” Reiner blinked, “Am I?”
“Yeah,” Eren’s voice should have been laced with hatred or disdain, but all Reiner could hear was pity.
Tilting his head back up, Reiner tried to speak again, ask Eren why he hadn’t tried to kill him yet—the Eren he had left behind on Paradis would have already been strangling him at this point or already transformed into his titan form.
Once again, Reiner was interrupted, “I’ll explain later. We can talk later.”
“Then what about now?” Reiner’s brow furrowed as he tried to glean some indication from the other man’s expression.
Silence sat with them for longer than Reiner was comfortable. But he didn’t even know what he would say to break the silence, feeling more certain now that any apology would be pointless. So he waited for Eren to speak.
He watched as Eren was suddenly closer, falling further into his palm. Reiner simply watched as Eren snaked his hands to rest on his shoulders, the blood staining the tan of his jacket. It was only when he heard Eren’s voice, soft but gravely finally say, “We pretend,” that Reiner knew what was coming.
Eren’s lips were dry and chapped, though Reiner figured his weren’t any better. It didn’t matter all that much to Reiner, not when remembered who it was he was kissing, who it was that was his first kiss. Guilt and joy mixed inside of him with equal measure as his mouth moved against Eren’s.
If he let his eyes stayed closed, he could pretend that instead of a back alley in Liberio they were instead back within the walls. Pretend that this softness came after weeks of shy glances during training, sitting too close together in the mess hall, after fumbling teenage confessions. Pretend it was a love story.
Reiner let himself be handled, let Eren guide his arm and body closer, forcing Reiner to hold him up. He deserved this after all, hadn’t he? He deserved for the man he had always wanted to treat him this way. Reiner knew he was not worth any kind of love from Eren, taking whatever these scraps, not expecting anything more.
The kiss that had started so awkward and tentative tipped into messy and desperate quicker than either intended. Reiner’s hands tried to hold as much of Eren’s back as he could, tugging him closer until all of his weight was onto Reiner. Practical reasons aside, Reiner wanted this, wanted to envelop him and care for him. In response, he felt Eren’s hand snake up to rest on his cheek. It would have been incredibly sweet were it any other situation. But instead, the gentleness made Reiner want to break down again, the blood only a reminder of what this actually was.
He pushed past it though, if only to keep holding Eren close. They would never have a moment like this, not again, and Reiner was not going to add something else to his long list of lifetime regrets. Not when it was in the palm of his hand like this.
Reiner pulled away for only a moment, taking in a shuddered breath as he saw Eren again with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Slowly, he let his own lips trace down from Eren’s cheek to his neck, sighing as he felt Eren’s body relax in his hold.
“I wanted this for a while,” Eren admitted quietly as Reiner continue to mouth at his neck, savoring the way his skin felt. Who knew when Eren would be this honest again, and selfishly Reiner wanted to listen.
Eren continued, “Wanted you, I mean. At first, it was hard to know if I wanted to be you or be with you. You always seemed to have everything under control, you were strong and certain. I know now that none of that is true,” Reiner couldn’t even feel hurt by his comment. In fact, he knew Eren was right, knew that in Paradis he only tried to be the man he aspire to be, not who he was. His palms covered Eren’s back, pressing into the toned muscle beneath the oversized uniform, silently begging Eren to say more.
A long sigh escaped his enemy’s lips as Reiner let his mouth work a mark onto Eren’s throat. Finally Eren spoke again, his cut hand now threaded through blonde strands, an inevitable hassle to clean in the morning, “It wasn’t until you revealed yourself I realized what I had really wanted from you. And it hurt knowing I’d never get it.”
A sharp tug to his hair made Reiner look back up at him, Eren’s stoicism cracking for just a moment with a quiet, “You owe me this Reiner,” before he connected their lips again.
Reiner still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it all, what this meant. All he was certain of was that the feeling of Eren’s tongue against his was addictive. So was the feeling of Eren’s body pressed against his—how he had grown and yet still seemed so much smaller in Reiner’s arms. If he were thinking clearly, thinking the way he had trained to, he would have taken advantage of this situation, take the founder back. But Reiner just accepted how lost of a cause he was, lost to the need to have someone want him and care for him. Perhaps especially from the man he had hurt the most.
After what seemed like ages, lips left his and Reiner panted trying something to say only to end with “I wanted you too.”
“Clearly,” Well, it was good to see Eren was still as smug as ever. Perhaps despite it all, they both really were just the same fumbling boys playing around with ODM gear.
“Yeah,” Reiner responded simply, trying to settle his breath and his heart as he looked at Eren again. Maybe he could try his luck, “Suppose you aren’t going to let me take you into custody are you?”
For the first time in so many years, Reiner heard Eren’s laugh again, surprisingly soft and high pitched, a sound that pierced through Reiner’s heart in equal parts shame and joy. “I don’t know if I ever appreciated how funny you were Reiner.”
He was certainly being made fun of but Reiner couldn’t mind, taking the moment to kiss the corners of Eren’s mouth. “I know I’m not.”
“No you aren’t but that’s okay,” Eren’s face seemed to light up at the softness of the gesture, a tinge of shyness and embarrassment trickling in, “You can take me, but not into custody.”
Now it was Reiner’s turn to blush bright red, the implication clear and almost exactly what Reiner craved. But he was not someone who was given gifts like this without a price. This had to be a trap—as soon as he left the alley with Eren to return to his apartment, his former comrades would descend on him with thunder spears again. It had to be a trap because otherwise—
“I’m the only one here,” of course Eren knew what he had been thinking. They were both trained soldiers, being on high alert was a normal as breathing for the pair.
“What do you want then?” Reiner looked down at the deep stains of Eren’s blood covering his shirt and jacket—a reminder of what Eren could do at any moment.
“I want you,” Eren’s voice was direct and clear, honest to a fault, “But I also want you not to tell anyone I’m here.”
Now it was up to Reiner to decide—but it wasn’t really a decision. Not when Eren could transform at any second, no, this was a chance for Reiner to admit to what he wanted. A chance for Reiner to betray Marley in favor of this pure physical desire.
Would he do that all just for the chance of holding Eren through the night?
When the sun woke him up the next morning, Reiner was alone. Looking around, he tried to will his pounding headache to stop, but unfortunately all the liquor he had the night before caught up to him.
Blood stained his bedsheets, the only remnant of the night before, the only evidence of the choice he had made. It would be a secret that stayed between him and Eren, just as Eren’s existence in Liberio. Reiner would stay quiet, if only for his own guilt and the brief reprieve of happiness the night have given him.
It’s not as if he had much time to report it, anyway. With Tybur coming in today for the festival that evening, the Marleyan military was busy enough.
They couldn’t be bothered by Reiner and Eren.