Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I swear, if you get in the way of the mission, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Annie! It’s not like that,” Bertholdt pleaded, eyes wide, looking anxiously between her tense frame leaning in the doorway and Reiner’s sitting atop a crate. Both had their arms crossed, Annie glaring intently while Reiner kept his eyes on the ground. The little wood shed could hardly contain the three of them, much less Annie’s anger.

“Then what’s it like?” Reiner asked. He sounded hollow—numb. “Annie’s right. I’m a risk to the mission.”

Annie’s intensity shifted to Bertholdt. “You’re the only one who’s witnessed it. So spill. Is he gonna get us killed?”

He fidgeted with his hands, his throat feeling too tight. “No, I– He’s just, he’s still Reiner.” 

“Just on the opposite side,” Annie scoffed.

The pair of them were looking at each other—a look Bertholdt knew, one that made him queasy. Some unspoken understanding they held. Reiner looked at her with yielding trust and Annie’s parallel expression was fierce, if conflicted. A conversation he was not privy to, but one his gut told him he needed to stop nonetheless.

Thankfully, Reiner lifted his head, meeting Bertholdt’s eyes softly. “I don’t remember anything when… when I’m him. I assume it’s the same the other way around, right?”

“You don’t remember Marley, or our mission, or anything,” he affirmed, glad to offer any relieving answers. 

“How often?” she bit.

Reiner’s frown deepened. “It’s getting worse. I’m losing more and more time. And I can’t seem to keep it from happening. I blink, and then…”

“It’s pretty random. Sometimes it takes me a while to even notice, you know, whether he’s just acting or not.” Bertholdt rubbed at his neck. “I can usually talk him out of it when we’re alone.”

“Damn it. This is all because you just had to go and make friends with everyone,” Annie fumed. Straightening herself, she pushed forward into the shed, crowding Reiner. “They’re our enemies, you dumbass!”

Bertholdt stepped in between without thinking, arms up. “Wait–”

“It was my job to gather intel. Neither of you were going to play nice.” Reiner sighed. “It was fine until moving into the barracks. Without a second alone, to drop the act–” He rubbed his temples. 

“I ought to beat it out of you,” she hissed. “Move Bertholdt.”

He didn’t move, hovering anxiously. Reiner was the only one that could ever make her lose her temper like this. The rare event made his stomach churn. 

“Well, there’s not much we can do. I'm the shield. You need me for the mission. Worst case scenario, it delays our plan. You might have to knock me out and drag me back to Marley when we’re done.”

“It doesn’t stick for more than a day or two,” Bertholdt offered. 

Reiner’s brow twitched, his eyes falling close for a moment. Bertholdt bit the inside of his mouth. It was the wrong thing to say. He wished it hadn’t come to this, that he could have kept it all from him. And Annie. Handled the fallout on his own. Hide just how much Reiner was losing himself. 

Annie stepped back. “You’re blacking out for days?” 

Bertholdt softened. She was scared. He looked back to Reiner. Without him—his titan, his direction—their mission fell apart. 

The silence was heavy between them. 

It was getting more and more difficult to slip away without drawing suspicion. Meetings with Annie had become few and far between. Bertholdt had been keeping Reiner’s ‘slips’ to himself for… too long. Reiner had pieced it together slowly, as it got worse, the first to voice the horror of their situation. He had been resolute in his decision to tell Annie, but Bertholdt hadn’t been so sure—he couldn’t take another one of their brawls for dominance. 

If they could even be called that. Annie may fight him, but she was only ever satisfied when Reiner won. 

“I’ll see the mission through,” he swore, new energy revitalizing him. That air of strength and determination he wore like armor. Bertholdt recognized they weren’t really talking about the mission anymore. 

Annie studied Reiner and soon they were locked into another silent conversation. Her lips were tight and eyes questioning. Bertholdt couldn’t help but think Reiner looked powerful, meeting her stare. Whatever his answer, Bertholdt gathered she must have been convinced as she offered a small nod and shifted her attention to Bertholdt. 

“What snaps him out of it then?”

Eyes back on him, he shrugged, trying not to shirk away from the topic. “When he’s been acting too long, he’ll slip into it. Sleep mostly, is when he, uh, comes back to. Or when I can talk to him.” 

He’d rather forget the disorientation and horror that rakes across Reiner’s face, the foggy look in his eyes and the telling clench of his jaw—his expression flashing as though reliving it all each time he came back. 

“And what’s he like? How can you tell who’s in control?”

He flushed, not meeting her eyes. “Um.” Another uncomfortable truth, though he found for entirely different reasons. 

Reiner groaned. “Don’t tell me I act like an idiot.”

“You do that anyway.” Annie rolled her eyes. “ Our fearless leader. ”

Reiner’s nostrils flared at the barb, but he seemed fairly amused with her familiar choice of words. Perhaps their version of an inside joke, Bertholdt thought. No matter, he was thankful for the casual tone. 

“Um.” He scratched his cheek. “You’re mostly the same, a bit, well, happier really. Kinda rowdy. But harmless.”

“Great. He’s soft,” she muttered.

“Anything else?”

“N-no, not really.”

Annie quirked her brow. “Oh, really? You’re such a shitty liar.” She leaned in. “Well, what is it? Something embarrassing, right?”

Bertholdt swallowed, glancing back at Reiner who was only watching curiously, not reacting to Annie’s bait. Reiner rarely got in the way of Annie’s fun when it was at his own expense. 

“Oh.” Annie brightened. “Does he not kiss you the same or something?”

Reiner startled at that.

“Annie!” Bertholdt faltered, no longer enjoying her casual tone.

Eyes a bit wider, Reiner uncrossed his arms. “Do I not remember you and Annie? Our relationship?”

His words were chosen carefully. Painstakingly. They had never really discussed this. The small comforts they afforded each other. The soft touches and tender words whispered in the night. Annie may have distanced herself over their time in the cadet core, but he and Reiner had only grown more dependent. A fact Reiner disliked, and which had certainly not improved in light of this other persona.

Upon their arrival in Paradis, they had been a few scared kids living as refugees inside the walls, with nothing but each other. 

Annie had held his hand back then, protective. Reiner would clap him on the back, reassuring. They soothed each other’s nightmares and took turns guarding over each other as they slept. The two of them had always fought, challenging one other, but Bertholdt could never see them truly harming one another. He remembered how Annie used to let Reiner braid her hair. 

Bertholdt wasn’t quite sure when the line had blurred between him and Reiner. As they grew older, the touches began lingering. His admiration turned into… something else. Tolerated as long as it didn’t interfere with the mission. 

Annie had always been disapproving, maintaining the importance of distance. Warriors needed no one. Attachments were only weaknesses. She used to make Bertholdt cry with her demands: making him swear he would never care for her. A promise he could never keep, and he wasn’t so sure she could either. 

Reiner always heard out her concerns. It had been a long time since she had protested, but Bertholdt had no intention of giving her any fuel. He stepped to the side, leaning back against the shed’s walls. “We’re still friends. And you seem fond of Annie, even if maybe you don’t know why.”

“So does he still kiss you or not?” Annie asked, the teasing glint in her eye ever present. “I bet soldier Reiner’s no good at it.”

He meant to object again, but this time Reiner was staring at him intently, too. He swallowed. “Um, it’s different,” he admitted. 

Annie gave Bertholdt a discerning look that made him sweat, but made a noise he almost considered a laugh.

“Whatever, you’re not helping my curiosity. And we’re out of time.” She gave Reiner one last look, slamming the side of her fist into his shoulder, with enough strength Bertholdt knew hurt. Still, he found himself envious. 

“Keep it together.” Reiner only nodded and she moved toward the door. “We’ll talk again soon. I’ll give you the signal when I can.” And with that, she disappeared from view, heading back to base. His eyes lingered on the door. 

Reiner’s tense form dropped, leaning his arms on his knees. “I’m sorry, Bertl.”

“It’s not all bad,” he said, eager to placate.

“Oh?”

Bertholdt flushed again, avoiding his pointed look. Reiner likely wouldn’t approve of his selfish indulgences. He was supposed to be working on becoming more independent, confident without Reiner always with him. He didn’t care much for the sentiment. He didn't plan to ever be without Reiner, no matter what happened. 

He avoided: “You do seem happier, at least. You’re not so weighed down.” Bertholdt looked at him hesitantly. “You can actually take a break.”

That didn’t seem to reassure Reiner, his shoulders further tensing. He shook his head, muttering, “I can’t take breaks.” 

There was that same solemnly determined expression: I'm the shield .

He stood. “Not like that. If I’m going to be weak, I’d rather...” 

Without finishing the thought, Reiner pressed closer to Bertholdt, just barely touching his shoulder, eyes closed. Bertholdt wished he would come closer, rest his head on his shoulder. He wouldn’t. Not without Bertholdt pushing. He weighed his options, in his current mood Reiner was more likely to pull away if he tried it. Still, it had been too long since they’d had any privacy. 

His skin was itching for it. 

Bertholdt leaned down slowly, resting his forehead on Reiner’s shoulder. He was always too willing to comfort Bertholdt rather than himself. Bertholdt felt a pang of guilt at his own underhanded tactics, chipping away at Reiner’s armor, hoping to get a glimpse of him beneath it all. 

Reiner pressed his head to the side of Bertholdt’s. Relief flooded him. He felt his ears grow hot. Well, all or nothing , he thought. 

“Reiner, I need you.”

He held his breath. Reiner didn’t move. Slowly, Bertholdt turned to look at him. After another moment, Reiner raised his head, lips tight. He knew that look. Another push, then. 

Bertholdt shoved Reiner, arm across his chest, into the wall, flipping their positions. 

Reiner’s eyes widened, finally looking at him. “What are you–”

Bertholdt pressed them flush against each other, arms bracketed on either side of him. He may be the more slender of the pair, but his height dwarfed Reiner easily. 

"No, we've already been gone too long."

“Reiner,” he urged, dropping his voice, “I need you.” He stared at him intently, intending to make this hard to walk away from, as he tended to do. Even though they both knew he wanted it just as badly. Reiner wasn’t one to shed his armor easily. 

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not playing fair.”

Bertholdt tensed. Reiner was going to push him off. More often than not, he let him without protest, but this time Bertholdt was growing annoyed. They wouldn’t have another moment alone together for days, maybe weeks. He grumbled, but Reiner’s expression stayed stern. 

Damn independence. Damn a safe distance. He didn’t need any of that. They didn’t have time. He needed Reiner. Bertholdt pressed into his neck, leaving a soft kiss. 

“The other Reiner would kiss me,” he baited.

The reaction was immediate. Reiner came to life, a hand flying to Bertholdt’s hair, yanking him up and crushing their mouths together. His guilt washed away entirely; he’d do anything to have this. The touch. The attention. Reiner. 

Reiner’s other hand gripped his hip, almost painfully. He dropped one arm to wind behind Reiner, pulling him in by the waist. Reiner grunted. It sent a thrill through his body. Dark desire bubbled in his gut. It was only like this, only with Reiner, that he felt so bold, so ready to throw aside his caution. Hesitation only let Reiner slip away. His hand crept down over his ass. Reiner stilled, caught from either side.

“Mm, you’re perfect,” Bertholdt mumbled into his skin. 

“Shut up.”

He was breathy. Bertholdt groaned. 

It was always like this: so fast. Desperate. Tension thick in the air. Bertholdt tried to take it all in, store it deep in his memory. He still thought surely they weren’t close enough together. Pushing deeper into Reiner’s mouth, his tongue ached to devour him whole. Reiner was making little low noises deep in his throat and he intended to tear them out. He ground down, now taking both hands to pull at Reiner’s ass. So perfect. Hot. Sculpted muscle–

Reiner shoved him off hard. Bertholdt stumbled backward into the crate, nearly losing his balance. Breathing ragged, he stared at Reiner, resisting the urge to pout. Fuck, he was strong. He was scowling, eyes on the ground and a dark blush across his cheeks. His brow a single hard line. All those sharp angles. Amber eyes burning hot. So hot. 

Bertholdt's mouth twitched in a grin, hungrily inching forward. Reiner wasn’t going anywhere, a half tent already on display. Too late. Reiner shook his head, chest heaving. His big—sexy, perfect—chest. Bertholdt couldn’t look away. Give him another second, he knew–

Reiner groaned, grabbing Bertholdt by the shirt. Again, they clawed at each other. Reiner in his hair and Bertholdt pulling at his waist. He kept his hair longer just for him, even when Reiner denied his fixation. It was hot and clumsy, feverishly grinding against each other. Bertholdt shoved him back against the wall, immediately going to unbutton his pants. Thank fuck his ODM harness wasn’t still on. Roughly he shoved them aside just enough to pull at Reiner’s cock. 

Reiner threw his head back, hitting the wall with a low grunt. Louder , Bertholdt urged. He was trailing kisses down Reiner’s neck, mouthing at his collarbone, jerking him quickly. It was dry and too slow and– Bertholdt yanked at his own pants, Reiner’s grip on his shoulders bruising. Reiner.  

He wishes he had the time—that Reiner would let him take his time. Let him peel off every shred of his clothing, trace up his stomach, kiss his chest, nip at his shoulders. Oh, Reiner’s fucking shoulders! It was a rare occasion that Reiner would let down his guard enough to actually disrobe, let Bertholdt see him. Let him inside. Reiner didn’t like the risk. Personally, Bertholdt thought it was well worth it.

Panting, he leaned down, lining their cocks up to slide against one another. Desperately he held them together, jerking far too fast. Reiner was breathing hard, one hand firmly covering the back of Bertholdt’s neck. His mind was buzzing. Reiner. Reiner. 

Reiner’s breath pitched, legs tensing, and then he was spilling into Bertholdt’s hand. He knew he wasn’t too far behind. He tightened his hold around Reiner’s waist, pulling harder around them both—even as Reiner spasmed and choked at the overstimulation. Reiner. Reiner. He was yanking Bertholdt down into him, panting into his shoulder, his teeth– 

Bertholdt's eyes shot open, coming as the bite grit into him. He moaned, far too loud, and immediately Reiner’s hand was over his mouth, muffling him. Body sagging, he pressed into him, kissing lightly at his palm. Reiner grunted, holding him up. So strong.

Bertholdt couldn’t look away. He could stay like this for hours. Reiner was still breathing hard, his eyes clenched close. His beautiful blonde eyelashes… 

Already, the heel of his hand was pushing him away. Bertholdt whined shamelessly. The force subsided and he pressed another kiss to his hand. Reiner’s eyes snapped open. Beautiful gold. 

“Stop it.” He pulled his hand down, still avoiding eye contact. His face was undeniably red.

Bertholdt grinned. “Right, okay,” he agreed—just to agree—immediately disregarding and leaning in to kiss him again. The nose. His jaw. Jaw again. Neck. Reiner. Reiner. Reiner. 

“Bertl!”

“Mm, I’m stopping, I’m stopping.”

Reiner snorted, finally smiling. “You’re not.”

“No, sorry, I’m not.” Bertholdt kissed at the corner of his lips. “One more minute.”

Reiner caught him by the jaw, holding his face firmly. His expression had softened, and he looked rather… fond. Still, his grip didn’t waiver. Bertholdt groaned, futilely attempting to close the space between them. 

“The minute’s over. Seriously, we need to go.” Reiner rolled his eyes, shoving Bertholdt back again. He quickly did up his pants, one hand out to catch and hold back the incoming Bertholdt. 

He pouted. “The other Reiner–”

“Oh, shut up.”

Bertholdt gave an impish grin, plopping himself down on the crate at the other wall. He watched Reiner with dark lidded eyes as he smoothed his rumpled clothing, tucking his shirt back into his pants. 

“I’m going. Follow in a few minutes.”

Bertholdt shot up. “What! You’re leaving?”

Again, Reiner put his hand out. “Stay,” he demanded. “And clean yourself up.”

His worst impulse was to make himself cry or at least look like he might—Reiner would stay then. It was an amazing feat of control that he resisted. However, it was possible his bottom lip protruded slightly more than usual as he watched Reiner leave. Bertholdt slumped down. The dark heat thrumming through his body, not to mention the stick of sweat and come, was no fun without Reiner here.

…

Bertholdt waited patiently on his bunk, dutifully staying awake. It was late and Reiner still wasn’t back in the barracks. His fingers twitched, eager to go searching for him. He sighed. Reiner had been doing too much lately: pushing himself to train harder, burden more of their chores on his own, and bolster the spirits of all the cadets he could. Some form of guilt ridden, self-induced punishment if he had to guess. 

But Bertholdt had sensed the desire for space since earlier. After… indulging , Reiner was quick to put extra distance between them. Bertholdt knew it was his own fault; he was always too drunk on it afterward—greedy. Chasing his every movement, careless of the eyes on them. 

Bertholdt threw an arm over his eyes, his face heating. He didn’t mean to. He tried to keep his eyes down and his hands to himself, really! But he wasn’t largely successful, like some magnet he would unconsciously do exactly what was forbidden. Reiner saw it as a risk.

Voices echoed from the hall, the last of them finally returning. Eren and Jean’s bickering was all too easily recognizable. Reiner was pushing the two through the door, telling them to knock it off. The stern tone made Bertholdt smile. Like a fussy mother hen. 

Reiner lazily dropped onto Bertholdt’s bunk and he had to remind himself to stay still. 

“Fighting again?” he asked quietly, amused.

He rolled his shoulders, working on unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t get me started. We can’t even chop wood without those two getting into a pointless brawl.”

There was a comparison that could be made, Bertholdt thought. 

Reiner tossed his shirt across the small aisle to his own bunk, leaning down to untie his boots next. “They’re obsessed with the damn ranking.”

He laughed. 

Reiner threw himself down on the bed with a sigh and Bertholdt preened, hoping this meant he would sleep with him for the night. The lights were already out and he seemed tired enough, so Bertholdt pulled the blanket over him. 

Back in Marley, warriors ‘fraternizing’ wasn’t tolerated. Lying in the same bed like this— two boys —would have gotten them duly punished. Deemed weakness. But in Paradis, no one seemed to care. Soothing each other’s nightmares in the middle of the night had slowly become regularly sleeping together in Bertholdt’s bunk. They weren’t the only ones either. 

It was the only true affection Reiner allowed in the public space. None of the other boys ever commented. Many of them lazed about in each other's bunks, talking, joking, whispering. Everyone knew about the nightmares. Too many cadets had them. There was enough of an understanding between them all, Reiner let it happen. 

He settled into the mattress, his hands spasming for a moment. He looked exhausted.

Bertholdt frowned. “You’re not supposed to chop their wood for them, Reiner.”

His eyes shot open—caught. He shifted on the bed with a scowl and a low hum. They’d had this conversation before and it always went the same.

I'm the shield.

Bertholdt grabbed his arm under the blanket. “Reiner,” he persisted. 

“It’s fine. They were going to take all night.”

An excuse. Bertholdt groaned, too easily forgiving in the moment, slightly distracted. His hand inched down, snaking around Reiner’s waist, pulling him closer. He nuzzled into Reiner’s warmth, promising himself he’d bring it up again in the morning. 

It was selfish, how he wished he could keep Reiner all to himself. They didn’t really need him, not like Bertholdt did. Was it all the little pieces of himself Reiner gave away that was causing him to break now? 

Or was it Bertholdt all along? Dragging him down. Relying on his strength. 

Using him as a shield.

Chapter Text

Bertholdt stretched, his limbs were warm and slow, absentmindedly reaching. He found himself alone in the bunk. He suppressed a moan of loss. Disappointing. But it meant Reiner was himself. Other Reiner liked to sleep in. 

There were certain signs, some more subtle than others, that Reiner wasn’t Reiner. He grinned wider, laughed easier, and gave more attention to the other cadets. Not all too different otherwise, still stubborn, plain, and noble as he ought to be. Though Bertholdt had noticed some new expressions Reiner served, fleeting glances he didn’t recognize. 

It was difficult to guess if he was correctly playing his part in Reiner’s fantasy, but he was slowly learning his lines.

The boys dorm was still quiet in the early morning, only faint rustlings from the early risers. Both Reiner and Annie would be out and about. Part of him wanted to go looking, but the majority was too warm in his bed to fathom moving.

Bertholdt kept a close eye on Reiner when he wasn’t himself. Make sure he didn’t blow their cover at his most vulnerable, when he was on that cusp between, coming back to himself. Sometimes it came suddenly, in the middle of training or a conversation. Reiner would grow pale, act confused and fatigued. It was in the confusion he sometimes said things he shouldn’t. Bertholdt had been telling the others Reiner was prone to painful headaches. 

Though ever keeping a watchful eye, he didn’t dare stay as close. With Reiner he had always been sure of his place. Directly to his right. Just a half-step behind him. Chasing. Guarding his rear. Back-to-back. It was second nature. However, it wasn’t so natural to the other Reiner, so he left a wide berth. 

The days like this were lonely. Without Reiner, he was invisible and despondent. Purposeless. 

This other Reiner didn’t need Bertholdt. He wasn’t plagued by the same nightmares, paranoia, and deep-rooted training that kept them close. That calming reassurance of being with one another, knowing someone was there to guard your nape. Lately, Bertholdt had been spending a lot of time with his back against the wall, watching from the fringe. 

His jealousy certainly didn’t help. Other Reiner was careless with his affections, wearing his wolfish grin for all to see. It was conflicting. Bertholdt wanted nothing more than to see him smile—but the cost was daunting. 

On top of it all, if he was too close—within reach—Bertholdt knew he was bound to slip up. Touch him the wrong way at the wrong time. It was a risk. Keeping Reiner’s slips a secret was imperative. 

Then again, this issue had seemingly resolved itself.

One glaring difference between the two personas had come to light. One Bertholdt had been meaning to tell Reiner… he just hadn’t found the right time. The knowledge had eaten away at him yesterday when they met in the woodshed. Then he’d let his mouth run:

The other Reiner would kiss me. 

Bertholdt cringed. Reiner had dismissed the information for now—but he didn’t even know the half of it. Bertholdt found the other Reiner did a number of things out of the ordinary. 

One night, a few days ago, the cadets had all been out in the woods, something about morale and letting loose. 

There was a bonfire and booze being passed around. Bertholdt had been pressed up against a far tree with his arms crossed for hours, eyes trained on the ever sociable Reiner. Curse him , he’d thought . If Commandant Shadis ever caught them he would wreak hell. Annie had been nowhere to be seen, figures, likely lying peacefully in her bunk. 

He had wished at least one of them were there. Being alone was… bad. Pointless. Looking around, at all the cadets milling around, content to drink and laugh, Bertholdt found himself entirely apathetic. 

His grandmother, a long time ago, had warned him against putting all his eggs into one basket. But that was exactly what he had done. Bertholdt had no interest in keeping his eggs, only the basket itself. If Reiner left—lost himself, dead or worse—Bertholdt would be nothing. 

His body was nothing but a gnawing, gaping hole without Reiner close. Hollow and lifeless. Bertholdt had nothing to say, devoid of any feeling, as if his soul blinked out of existence until Reiner was with him again. 

“Alright, grumpy. Let’s go.”

Bertholdt startled, having missed the movement around him. Reiner smiled with a knowing look.

He grumbled, “I am not.”

Reiner slapped a hand around his shoulders, tugging at him. “Course not, you’re the life of the party, Bertl.” 

With Reiner he could be brave. Strong. Playful. Intense feeling bloomed in his chest, spreading across his body to his fingertips. Alive. His body became hot, itching to act. Move. Chase. Touch. He brought meaning to all of it. The mission. 

The blood on his hands.

Falling into step beside him, they started the long walk back to the barracks. Bertholdt couldn’t help counting his lucky stars. Now if only he could get this flight-risk back to his bunk without any more–

Reiner bumped into his shoulder. 

He raised a brow, but didn’t comment. Reiner was by no means graceful, but he was purposeful, his strength always deliberate. He must have been more tired than Bertholdt thought.

Again, a few steps later, Reiner knocked into him—harder.

Bertholdt stopped, bewildered. “What are you doing?”

Reiner grinned.

Was he drunk? Bertholdt frowned, he hadn’t seen Reiner partake. He scanned his face slowly, finding one of those foreign expressions. The ones that made him angry. He was supposed to be the one who knew all Reiner’s faces.

Reiner’s eyes, sharp and narrow, focused on him entirely. “Bertl, have some fun,” he said with a crooked grin. 

Bertholdt huffed. “I’d rath–”

Reiner swayed forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He froze, the words dead on his tongue. It was a simple, singular kiss. Reiner stepped back as quickly as he had come, still smiling. Bertholdt could only stare, wide-eyed. Reiner never kissed him first. He whipped his head around, making sure they were out of eyeshot. 

“Wh–what are you–”

Leaning close, Reiner’s eyes simmered. “You’re not discreet. I know you want to.”

Bertholdt threw himself back. He must be drunk. Reiner would never– This wasn’t Reiner. Of course he wanted to! He blinked, eyes drawn to that sharp, wolfish grin. His golden eyes were coy, glinting even in the darkness. Bertholdt could feel his ears beginning to burn. Unexpected, certainly new… but not bad. 

“So what if I do?”

Reiner laughed, pushing forward. “No need to be shy. I want to kiss you till you’re drunk on it.”

Not hard to do, Bertholdt delighted. Yet, Reiner stilled, pressed lightly against his front, breath hot on his ear. Bertholdt did his best to keep his antsy hands at his sides. No reason to spook a gift horse, or however that saying went. 

“Well, what do you say, pretty boy?” Reiner husked.

Pretty b– His heart dropped into his stomach, dark and churning. Bertholdt concluded he must be dreaming. He grabbed Reiner’s face with both hands, guiding him to his mouth. He mimicked the first kiss, unfamiliar, before pulling him in to deepen it. Show him just how he knew he liked it. Reiner let out a pleased hum, pulling away. 

Looking mischievous, he darted downward, arms wrapping around his legs. In a single fluid motion Bertholdt was thrown over a broad shoulder. 

“Ah– Reiner!” he yelped. So strong. 

“One second, gorgeous,” Reiner promised, taking them off the path and deeper into the woods.

Gorgeous? Bertholdt knew his ears were red now for sure. Reiner’s chuckle alerted him to the fact he’d been squirming in his hold. Not truly to get away. More like impatiently closer. It was a familiar itch under his skin, the one always desperate for Reiner. 

He stumbled as he was suddenly dropped down onto his feet, Reiner pressing him back into a tree. The rough bark scratched at his skin. It was all so slow, how Reiner leaned in, their breath dancing together in the air. They stayed like that for what must have been an eternity. Bertholdt’s heart was beating fast, unsure of what was happening. 

Finally, Reiner pressed into his mouth. Fully, but so soft. Bertholdt was trying to follow his lead, hands inching closer, nervous. He felt dazed. Since when did he kiss like this? Reiner’s big hand cupped at his neck, gently guiding him. It sent a shiver down his spine. Bertholdt’s own hands hovered hesitantly, twitching, aching to touch. Lightly he ran them up Reiner’s torso, rumpling his tight fit shirt. 

Reiner hummed and finally the kiss began to deepen, his tongue easing into Bertholdt’s mouth. This was more familiar and too soon, he felt himself losing his head. He gripped into Reiner’s hips harshly yanking him closer. He dove into his mouth, lapping greedily. 

A gasp of amused surprise escaped Reiner, pulling back to catch his breath. “We’re in no hurry, you know,” he teased. 

But Bertholdt absolutely was. Reiner hadn't been himself for days. The gnawing numb feeling beneath his skin now felt like it had been lit on fire by his touch. He snagged Reiner by the jaw, holding him still as he went back hungry for more. 

All at once, Reiner’s body went rigid. Sobering, Bertholdt immediately released his hold and slumped back into the tree. Reiner gaze bore into him, wide-eyed. He bit at his bottom lip, worrying, and his eyes clenched close. Slow, he reminded himself. But this pace was going to be the death of him, for sure. 

“I– uh, didn’t expect you to be…” Reiner trailed off. 

Bertholdt’s eyes flashed open, waiting anxiously. 

His blank expression morphed into one of curiosity. “After all this time, I guess you’re still full of surprises, huh?”

Bertholdt’s ears were burning. He'd never been more confused. Was he doing this wrong?

“Aw, don’t frown, Bertl,” Reiner teased, tone light again.

“Can we fuck now?” 

The words echoed in the air. It was several seconds before Bertholdt realized he had been the one to say them. Out loud. Oh, well. He stared at Reiner expectantly, thinking he might just die if he said no. 

Reiner looked shell-shocked. He blinked. All his sly words and charm were lost. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

Bertholdt licked his lips, sliding the palm of his hand up Reiner’s chest and pinching open the top button. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

“Wh–”

He crushed his mouth into Reiner’s, craving the divine pressure. He made quick work of the rest of the buttons, throwing open his shirt and running one hand around the back to hold him closer while the other explored the heated skin. 

Reiner let loose halting, staccato groans. 

It had been too long since Bertholdt had been allowed to truly appreciate this glorious body and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. Starting with his— big, perfect— chest. He ripped off the rest of the shirt, letting it drop to the ground—hopefully, to never be worn again. Mm, Reiner. Regretfully, he released Reiner’s mouth, moving down to desperately mouth at his strained throat.

Reiner shook, gasping for air and leaning forward on one hand against the tree. 

Reiner. Reiner. His hand snaked up, long fingers wrapping around the back of Reiner’s neck, rubbing at the sensitive skin of his nape. 

“Ah!” His hand flew up to meet Bertholdt’s, holding his fingers still. 

Bertholdt grinned, breathing into his skin, “You sound so sweet, I could just eat you up.” He grazed his teeth downward.

Reiner flinched. “Wait– Ah!”

Bertholdt bit down on the plump of his left pec, savoring the feeling as Reiner’s free hand slipped into his hair. Reiner. Slowly, he let go, laving the dark marks his teeth left behind with slow strokes of his tongue. Reiner. He hummed, jovial. 

“This is gentle?” Reiner huffed.

He pressed his face into Reiner’s skin, with a laugh, nuzzling his way up until he was scenting his throat and kissing at his ear. “Can’t stop. Need you, Reiner.”

He groaned, his head falling back. “Yeah, okay, it’s fine. Me too.”

Bertholdt purred, letting himself melt. Reiner grunted at the sudden weight, looking down bewildered at Bertholdt’s full body bearing down on him. Then suddenly, he was sliding down, mouthing at Reiner’s skin until he sat on the ground against the base of the tree. 

He tugged at his hips, trying to pull him down. “Reiner,” he whined, “you’re too slow.” 

“Hold on– Mn!” Reiner’s knees hit the dirt hard. Catching himself on the tree, he loomed over Bertholdt. With a huff, he pulled Bertholdt back by the hair, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Are you even listening to me?”

Bertholdt’s hands inched around his hips again, taking hold. “Oh, I’m listening. Reiner, you’re so noisy.” He tugged, trying to pull him down fully into his lap. “I love it. Moan for me again?” 

Reiner steadied himself, looking at him incredulously and tightening his grip on Bertholdt’s hair. He sighed into it, bearing his neck and looking up at him longingly. Reiner grit his teeth, giving a small shake of his head. 

Bertholdt lifted his hips, meeting him in the air. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” He pulled against Reiner’s grip, straining for another kiss. 

Reiner yanked him back. “No, no, you stay right there. Just let me catch my breath, damn it.”

Bertholdt groaned. “I love it when you show me how strong you are. So sexy.”

Reiner flushed. “Seriously, stop talking.” He shook his head again. “And everyone thinks you’re so timid,” he muttered, shoving Bertholdt’s hips away, back to the ground. 

“Ah, sorry, sorry.” Bertholdt writhed, eyes dark and pleading. Again, he tried to pull him downwards with a low whine. “Come on, please? At least kiss me, I swear, I’ll die.”

Reiner scoffed. “No one knows what a drama queen you really are.” He leaned in slowly. “How impatient. Demanding,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss into his cheek. His hand ran down Bertholdt’s hot skin, finding the needy bulge in his trousers. “They don’t believe me when I tell them.” 

Bertholdt moaned, moving against the harsh grip in his hair to kiss Reiner. It was open-mouthed and messy. His hands slid around to grab Reiner’s ass—firm and full. 

Reiner gasped, recoiling. 

Yanking down, taking advantage of his surprise, Bertholdt finally managed to seat him in his lap. Not wasting a single moment, he rocked their hips against one another, squeezing Reiner’s ass. 

“You’re so tense,” Bertholdt mused. “Come on, Reiner, I thought you wanted to have some fun?”

He grunted, “Well, this isn’t exactly how I imagined it.” 

His eyes were clenched close and the fist in his hair still harsh. That gorgeous blush bloomed across his nose, but his jaw was tighter than ever. Bertholdt frowned, he needed to make Reiner feel as good as he did. Reiner never was very comfortable on top.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you relax,” he soothed. 

Pushing off the tree, Bertholdt leaned forward, moving Reiner to his back on the dirt. He kissed Reiner's jaw, his hands diligently working off his trousers. Pushing them down, just enough, he took Reiner’s cock in a soft hold, stroking him up and down until he was gasping. Bertholdt smiled, moving down, he pushed one leg up until Reiner’s thigh was flush against his abs. 

“What are you–”

Bertholdt licked a full stripe between his cheeks. Reiner yelled, suddenly struggling. His legs flailed, throwing Bertholdt off balance. 

He immediately sat back, heart racing. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes roved over Reiner’s body, before quickly checking their surroundings. 

Reiner pushed himself up, face red. “I don’t– I don’t want that!” 

Bertholdt’s head cocked to the side. Now he was really confused. 

He frowned, gaze lowering. “I don’t wanna be the one that gets fucked,” he mumbled.

Oh. In the shock of realization, Bertholdt laughed. This really wasn’t Reiner he was dealing with. 

Reiner pouted. “Don’t laugh.”

“Right, sorry.” Bertholdt smiled, rubbing his neck. “I didn’t mean to– I just… didn’t think you...” He’d never even considered the possibility. They’d always done it this way. 

Reiner gaze sharpened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you were either.” 

He shrugged, feeling another laugh bubbling in his throat. Bertholdt weighed his options, but it seemed obvious enough. He’d have Reiner any way he let him. Bertholdt leaned forward, eyes trained on Reiner’s length. “I’ve never… but I can try.”

Reiner slapped his outstretched hand away with a frown, avoiding his eyes. “Can we– Let’s just forget about that for now, okay?”

He nodded. “Hah, yeah, okay.” So maybe he was a little relieved. 

“Kiss me?”

Bertholdt didn’t waste any time. 

Ultimately, their roll in the dirt hadn’t amounted to much more than kissing and grinding. The memory had Bertholdt covering his face. He really needed to talk to Reiner about it all. Would he even be okay with doing that when he wasn’t himself? Not to mention, since then other Reiner had been awfully handsy, stealing kisses whenever he could. And selfishly he’d been enjoying it all. 

One of the cadets, Connie, it sounded like, made his way through the aisle to the door grumbling, “Seriously, how the hell do you sleep like that?”

Bertholdt huffed, slowly untwisting wiry limbs and righting himself. He’d been laying comfortably contorted at the edge of the–

“Oof!” he groaned, hitting the ground. 

He stared at the ceiling, thinking only: Reiner was going to kill him.

Chapter Text

Oh, damn it. Shit. 

Bertholdt!

Reiner ripped Bertholdt’s limp body from the Colossal’s nape—tearing the connecting muscle—throwing him under his arm. He sent out a line. Took a running start. The Titan body below him hissed with burning steam, disappearing. He jumped. Half fell. Haphazardly swung them down, his shoulder slamming into the wall. 

He swore. Titans behind us.

Bertholdt was supposed to de-transform and meet them back in town before the pure titans began pouring in. Of course,  nothing ever goes to plan . Bertholdt didn’t take to the transformation and there were titans right on his ass. Not to mention, he could already hear scouts approaching from above. They were too exposed. 

Stay in the steam. Lay low. If he knew Annie, she was on their rear, dispatching the titans in the perimeter. No reason to panic yet. Touching down on some rubble, he took a moment to squeeze Bertholdt’s chest. He was breathing . 

Reiner realized he’d been holding his own breath. He shook his head. No time for that . He dragged them further into the rubble, beneath the cover of steam before leaning Bertholdt against the wall. His shoulder throbbed. 

Annie hit the ground to their right. “What happened!” she barked.

He pushed back one of Bertholdt’s eyelids, watching the pupil dilate. Responsive, at least. Reiner straightened. “You checked our perimeter?”

“Of course.” Her eyes were trained on Bertholdt, roving over his body. 

“Why haven’t I heard a report yet?” Reiner snapped. He threw Bertholdt over his shoulder, scanning to guess how much time they had before the rest of the Colossal diffused and the steam cleared. They needed to stay on the move. 

Annie stiffened. “Four titans dispatched. At least a dozen approaching from the rear. One cadet squad above us—Eren’s.”

He nodded. “Fine. I need a blade.” He’d lost three to the Colossal's heat, and his uniform jacket sleeves, cutting Bertholdt out. 

She unsheathed one of her spares, sliding it into his holster. 

“We circle back around into town. I’ll find a place to stow him away. I’ll go through, you go up. Get me at least two minutes, we can’t be seen.”

Her eyes were boring holes into him. Reiner turned to meet her gaze with a glare of his own. Now was not the time for her insubordination. His mind changed course the moment he truly looked at her. Before he thought to stop himself, his hand was brushing over her vitals one by one. 

“You’re burned,” she said. 

His forearms. Nothing . It would heal soon enough. A familiar voice reminded him, Titan healing was a privilege. 

An inner injury did more damage than anything else. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Annie didn’t protest, even letting him touch her nape. She was unharmed. He readjusted Bertholdt in his arms, shoulder wincing, preparing to make the dash across open space. “Annie, play it safe, but make sure you’re seen.”

“I have your back.”

They made another moment of fierce eye contact. Their understanding stood. 

With a nod and a final glance at Bertholdt, Annie separated. He gave her a few seconds to scale the wall before starting through the crater size hole. He kept low to the ground, letting the panic guise them. Hell, Bertholdt was not easy to lug around. Too damn long . He got them across the square into the closest rows of houses—abandoned. Titans already filtering through. Groaning, he kicked in the nearest door. They’d have to take the risk of titans; the safer areas would have too many eyes. 

It was a small house: dining table, three chairs, laundry basin out, a little pink jacket hanging next to the door. A bowl of pears on the table. Four windows. Reiner laid Bertholdt down on the table, knocking over the fruit. He set to closing the shutters, listening closely to their surroundings. 

“Bertl,” he called, moving back toward the table. 

He tapped at his cheek. No response. Shook his shoulders. Bertholdt groaned. His skin was hot to the touch. Too hot. He picked up the bowl from the floor, dipping it into the laundry basin. He dripped the cool water onto his forehead. 

It had been years since the last time Bertholdt had used the Colossal Titan. He should’ve anticipated something like this. The first time Bertholdt ever transformed, he’d been down with a fever for weeks. Delirious. The Colossal body took immeasurable effort to produce. 

He began stripping off his uniform jacket, muttering, “Come on, Bertl.” 

Bertholdt’s eyes opened slowly, half-lidded, pupils like pinpricks. 

“There you are,” Reiner sighed in relief. 

He stared at him, eyes slowly focusing as if just noticing him. “Oh, a little titan,” he rasped. 

Reiner threw Bertholdt’s jacket aside, moving to get more water. Bertholdt’s hand shot out, catching his arm before he could get far. He recoiled—his hand was burning hot. Bertholdt pulled him closer with more strength than anyone should have in his half-conscious state. 

“Stop. You need to re–” Reiner froze, eyes locked on Bertholdt’s. Bright energy crackled across his skin, like electricity. Bertholdt’s expression was stony and his eyes distant, red marks still apparent below them.  

The ground shook, a titan moving around nearby.

Bertholdt pulled him over the table, inches from his face. Scrutinizing him, “The Armored,” he decided. His voice was gravely, unlike himself. “My favorite.”

Reiner steeled himself, trying not to struggle against the burning grip. He must be delirious. 

“Of all the little ants, only you can withstand me,” he whispered.

Suddenly, he was coughing, body shaking, and the grip loosened. Reiner stepped back, refilling the bowl. With a wet hand, he pushed back Bertholdt’s hair. 

The sounds outside faded, the titan moving West. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Bertholdt only groaned. Reiner took a moment to pour some of the cool water onto his arm, a distinct red handprint forming. “Such a problem child,” he muttered.

“Rei– Reiner?” his voice was weak, but more himself.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Where are we?”

“Trost.”

He frowned. “Did– did I…”

“Yeah, you broke down the wall.” He put his hand back on Bertholdt’s forehead. “You passed out. Fever. Need to burn it off.”

Bertholdt shuddered. “I forgot what it feels like. The Colossal.”

Ants, he had called them. 

Steam erupted from Bertholdt’s body, evaporating quickly, but turning the small house into a sauna. He shifted on his feet, the heat further irritating his arm. 

Bertholdt moved to sit, already looking more alert.

“We need to rejoin the other ca–”

“You’re hurt.” 

Reiner turned on his heels instinctively, feeling his face heating. He shook his head, hating how the comment made him feel caught— he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wished, not for the first time, that Bertholdt would leave well enough alone. 

“We don’t have time for this. We’ve been gone too long,” he snapped. 

Bertholdt was moving behind him, his voice soft. “You don’t have to do that anymore, Reiner.”

Suddenly there was too much energy in his body, his fingers twitching and his legs aching to move. Go somewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t… this. 

“Titan healing is a privilege, Braun!”

He flinched, a sharp pain blinding him. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now. It didn’t matter! They had a job to do.

“I know!” he barked.

“You’re the Armor! You think you’re worth healing, Braun?”

Bottom of his class. No natural skill—no prodigy—like the others. His body shivered. When he’d been given his Titan, it was for one reason alone. He was expendable.

“You’re the shield. Your only job is to make sure the real Warriors make it home, do you hear me, boy?”

“Reiner?”

His mind felt foggy. Dizzy. The ground was shaking again. Or maybe he was shaking. A weight was behind him, arms reaching around his front. Reiner jerked. He wanted to fight it.

He couldn’t fight it.

In training, he had never been permitted to use his Titan healing. Learn to take it, they said. This is what a shield is for. Hit after hit. Bruises. Burns. Blood. Bullet holes. 

That was what he was for. 

The hold around him tightened. Who– His head throbbed, everything flashing white. What had he been thinking about? Reiner groaned, feeling himself pitch backward.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

That was Bertholdt. Bertl. He sounded… scared. Reiner held his head. He needed to get his shit together. Now. He took a slow, shaky breath. Then another. Bertholdt held him gently, but tight, stroking his arms. It only made him feel more frustrated and confused. Why? He didn’t deserve this!

He shook his head. “No, no! I’m– I’m not…” 

Who? 

Him? Me? He couldn’t breathe. Marcel? Reiner? 

The Armored–The Shield–The Soldier–The Warrior?

He choked, “Who you want.”

Warm hands took his shoulders, turning him around and holding him close. Bertholdt looked into his eyes fiercely, their noses touching. “You’re mine. That’s all I want.” He pressed their foreheads together. “The rest doesn’t matter, alright?”

Bertholdt’s warmth seemed to seep into Reiner’s bones, his body slowly relaxing. “Okay,” he surrendered. He still felt oddly fuzzy, but as long as Bertholdt was here it was probably okay. He felt far away. 

“Reiner?’’ the voice sounded distant and muffled. 

“Mm.”

“I need you to heal, okay?”

Reiner’s eyes fluttered open softly, eyelids heavy. There was Bertholdt, his bangs falling over onto his face and big round eyes. Reiner sighed. They were a pale green. He always liked that color. Why had he never told him?

“Heal for me? Please?”

Reiner didn’t want to talk right now. He dropped his head, resting on Bertl’s shoulder. He didn’t want Bertholdt to leave him. So slowly he let his skin begin to steam. The feeling was unsettling. His hands burned—and his forearms—his shoulder ached. Gradually his skin and muscle knit itself back together. Reiner hated the feeling. He wasn’t good at it. His healing was slow and clunky at best. He felt weak. 

The pressure around him grew, a tight squeeze. 

“Thank you,” Bertholdt whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. 

He wanted to melt into this and thought Bertholdt would probably let him. Instead, he set his shoulders and pushed himself up, blinking to clear his head. He reminded himself of their mission. 

This couldn’t be all for nothing. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

Bertholdt watched him hesitantly but nodded. 

Reiner threw open the far window, casting a line to the roof.

… 

Slap!

Reiner’s head snapped to the side, the sound ringing through the clearing.

He blinked, staring back at Annie. She… slapped him? He’d braced himself for a punch to the gut, a broken nose maybe. A little slap? Her chest was heaving. Hands shaking. Face red. 

He looked down, his face burning more from shame than lingering pain. 

When was the last time she’d killed? He couldn’t remember. Reiner sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He wanted so badly for this day to be over, his job to be done. But it was never done. Give the orders. Take the blame. 

“You did what I told you to do, Annie.”

Her face twisted into a pained scowl, shaking her head. “We didn’t have to kill him,” she denied.

“We did. And that’s all. We did what we had to do.”

She looked up at him like she might take another swing. 

“I hate you.”

Reiner’s eyes snapped close. He took a deep breath. “Good.” He stepped closer, grabbing her wrist as she moved to strike him—a half-hearted attempt. “I killed Marco,” he hissed. Annie’s eyes were wide, and her hand trembled in his grip. “I killed him. You followed orders.”

“I didn’t have to kill him,” she whispered, a tear streaking down her face.

Annie looked at him and he saw someone so young. She’d never slaughtered innocents. Not like he and Bertholdt had. He’d made sure of it, protected her as long as he could. It was his mistake. 

Today, she’d risked her own life to save Connie then fought against killing Marco. Reiner knew they’d have to split up soon. 

Soon she’d have to kill on her own. Kill their comrades. In cold blood. Better she could blame her first on him.

“I made you do it,” he asserted, holding her tightly, keeping his eyes trained on her until she gave him a faint nod. 

“Annie! Reiner!” Bertholdt called, distantly pushing through the brush around them.

Reiner dropped his hold, stepping back. Giving her a moment to compose herself, he raised his hand for Bertholdt to stop. He froze a few yards away on the outskirts of the clearing, watching them anxiously. The air around them still tense. 

“P-please don’t fight,” Bertholdt pleaded. 

Annie viciously wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Heal your damn face,” she spit.

Her strike. He’d earned it. Wanted it even. But at her continued glare, he relented, quickly soothing the redness. 

Stepping past her, he approached Bertholdt. “Well? Find any good firewood?”

He stared, wide-eyed, holding a neat stack of wood. Reiner took it from him easily, headed back to the half-made fire pit. He finished clearing a patch of dirt and started to arrange the sticks, watching Bertholdt rush to Annie’s side. She smacked away his outstretched hand, grumbling something Reiner couldn’t hear. She retreated behind him, settling onto their thin blanket laid out by the fire pit. 

Reiner glanced up at Bertholdt’s disappointed expression. 

“You did good. The wood’s nice and dry.”

He nodded, moving closer to him, opposite of Annie. Reiner gave a small shake of his head, wondering when the two of them would finally give it up. He should find an excuse tonight, leave them alone, let them say their goodbyes. 

Tonight, the cadets were scattered about. Tomorrow they’d officially be graduates, yet the barracks were nearly empty. Everyone out mourning their dead, drowning themselves in booze, or holding onto those closest to them. 

He glanced at Annie, then Bertholdt. Tomorrow they’d choose their regiments. 

Another headache. 

“The MPs and Scouts are fighting over Eren,” he said, sparking a flame. “Armin said there’s to be a trial, deciding which regiment’ll take him.”

Bertholdt straightened, stepping closer. “Then there’s no need for the Garrison!”

He grit his teeth. “We’re not having this argument ag–”

“He’s right. You should take him with you to the Scouts.”

Reiner whipped around, staring at Annie. This had been a heated subject of debate he’d suffered for months, if not years. Bertholdt endlessly implored to go into the Scouts alongside him. Annie was vehemently against it, urging Reiner to put Bertholdt “back in his place.” Only yesterday, he’d saved Bertholdt, pinned back behind one of the outbuildings. “Don’t you dare say that to Reiner,” she’d threatened. He’d assumed it to be the same tired argument. 

“ What?”

“You lost it today,” she muttered. “In the middle of battle.”

Now they both watched him intently. Reiner’s brow furrowed, refocusing on the task of the fire. 

It would be cold tonight. 

Was she challenging him? He clenched his jaw. He had sworn to her he would stick to the plan no matter how Bertholdt begged him to change his mind. And he had tried—often. They’d agreed it was imperative they had someone in every regiment. He’d put his foot down, forbidding any further talk on the subject. But he had lost his head today, nearly twice . Still, it felt unwise to concede. He couldn’t invite instability into their ranks right now. They wouldn’t survive it.

“Today, in the cabin, you were… unresponsive.” Bertholdt bit his lip. “For a few minutes, like you couldn’t hear me at all.”

The flames grew and Reiner was dismayed to find himself with nothing to do with his hands. 

“Eren’s Titan is too important, we can’t risk you fucking it up. Better you take your boyfriend, so we have the Scouts and MPs guaranteed.”

“He is not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever.”

“He’s not!” Bertholdt protested. “He’s just… Reiner .”

“Seriously? Is that supposed to mean something?”

Reiner stared into the fire, irked by their bickering. Could he keep himself from fucking things up? He wasn’t so sure. The intent had been to create distance between him and Bertholdt, make him stand on his own two feet. Yet, even through Cadet Corps he’d proven himself incapable of taking action on his own. Damn it. Leaving an entire regiment of the military unbreeched would be foolish. He needed to decide quickly. His word would be the last.

Hell, he just wanted some sleep. 

“It’s not like that.”

“So, you wanna go into the Garrison after all?”

“What? No!”

“Then, the MPs with me?”

“I– Well, of course I– But–”

“Exactly.”

“No! I–”

Reiner stood, silencing the pair, staring at him expectantly. “Annie will go into the MPs and Bertholdt will go into the Scouts with me.”

Bertholdt beamed and Reiner pretended such a reaction played no part in his decision.

“Now I’m tired,” he concluded, falling back onto the blanket. “We’ll talk after we’ve gathered more information tomorrow.”

The thin blanket didn’t offer much in terms of comfort nor protection from the elements, but it would work for a single night. He turned on his side, crossing his arms. Slowly, listening to the fire crackle and the sound of their breathing, he let himself sleep. 

He vaguely woke once or twice: Bertholdt’s weight joining him in the makeshift bed and later to throw another log onto the fire. Once, when Annie poked at him, half-asleep and demanding he pass the water flask. Again later, to haul off Bertholdt’s bulk, somehow draped horizontally across the top of them. 

He really couldn’t remember the last time he slept so soundly. 

With the stars above them, he drifted to sleep. Laying back-to-back with Annie, her cold body was flush against him. Bertholdt's face nuzzled into his chest, warm arms wrapped around him and long legs tangled with Annie’s. He held Bertholdt’s head, fingers twined through his thick dark hair. It was familiar. Peaceful. 

Probably the last time.