Don't Write Me Notes || Levi x Reader

7. it doesn't count under mistletoe

You pause. What?

Then, you realize who Levi's looking at. There's a tall, thin man standing by one of the buffet tables, which is piled high with glasses and massive bowls of punch. He's got short, dark hair that doesn't look like it's been brushed, a thin beard, and he's wearing a leather jacket over a white-collared shirt and black slacks.

He carries himself in a similar way to Levi, and immediately, you know he's related to him. An uncle, maybe? He turns to look at the two of you and lets out a dry laugh. "You little bastard! They told me you had a girlfriend and I didn't believe 'em. Had to see it for myself."

Levi's grip tightens on your hand. "This," he says through gritted teeth, "is my shithead Uncle Kenny."

"Brother to his mother, darlin'." Kenny looks you up and down, then grins. "Ain't you cute."

"Too much of a coked-up alcoholic to help out my mother and I, back when we needed it," Levi mutters.

"Details, schmetails." Kenny's grin widens. "How much did he pay you?"

You blink. "Pardon?"

"Kenny, for fuck's sakes."

"C'mon. The only way for this punk to get himself a girlfriend was to buy one." Kenny grins, snagging a glass from the table that's already filled with punch. He chugs it down in one gulp. "So, how much did he pay you?"

Your grip is so tight on Levi's arm that you wouldn't be surprised if you cut off circulation. Levi's murmuring that you don't have to answer that and that Kenny's a piece of shit, but you've got an answer in mind and just don't have to balls to say it. Fuck social anxiety and all of this shit- it's not fair for Levi to be insulted like this. That's not fair.

How much did he pay you? "Not nearly enough," you say, your grip tightening (if that's even possible) on Levi's arm. "Have you met his stepfather?"

Kenny laughs. Levi's looking at you, but you think it's a mix of surprise and bemusement, nothing bad. "First time in his humble abode?" he asks, and you nod. "First time meeting the family?" Another nod. "Look at you! It's a miracle you're still here."

"That's what I keep saying," Levi murmurs, and you think he's smirking. 

"Let's get the girl a drink, then!" Kenny passes you a glass of punch; you try to calm your shaky hands. "Let's see if she lasts the night," he gloats, clinking his glass against yours. "Cheers!"

And then Kenny's gone, sauntering away and calling out obscenities to a woman with a mass of blonde hair piled onto her head who looks at him like he's killed her puppy. Levi twists around so he's facing you, hands on your elbows. "He's an asshole," he mutters. "Take nothing he says personally."

You nod along, hands still kind of shaking as you bring the punch up to your lips. You take a sip; it's good. You can taste some sort of alcohol in it- champagne or vodka or something like that. "Mhm," you hum, nodding, eyes glued to the ground. "Yeah. Got it."

"Hey, hey. Are you okay?" Levi murmurs, raising a finger to your chin to tilt your head up. 

Your eyes meet his. His stupid, stupid, pretty grey eyes. "Yeah," you say, but you don't think you sound very convincing. "Yeah, I am. It's just- lots of people. And speaking up makes me nauseous," you admit. "And I'm nervous. And I don't want to embarrass you."

"You worry too much."

"Yeah, I figured that one out myself."

His gaze softens. His hands rise; he's cupping your face. For a second, you freak out- much too intimate, what's he doing- before you realize that of course he's doing this, the two of you are in public now. He's got to act like your boyfriend. "You won't embarrass me," Levi murmurs. "You'll be fine. If you get asked questions again, anything you can't answer, I'll take it. That was my bad- I should've deflected from Kenny."