Your first week seems to fly by.
The longest part of your day is actually the bus ride home. The chilly September air makes waiting for the bus painful, and you're always ready to curl up in bed and put on a show by 5 pm that the seven minute bus ride feels excruciatingly long.
Levi seems to want to avoid contact if at all possible. There's always a stack of papers on your desk every morning. At least it's manageable: you go from sorting and filing profiles to making minor edits based on several other manuals and documents that he's making you read.
You keep bringing him tea, but it's the same response every time. Not sweet enough, too sweet, or your personal favorite, "did you shove this shit in the fridge? It's ice cold."
On one of your lunch breaks, you sketch up the office in an attempt to figure out where everyone is and learn everyone's names. You'd ventured behind the divider once to find Hange's desk and another empty one. Apparently it belongs to Mike, the warehouse manager, but he's rarely up in the office. He spends most of his time in the warehouse. When you finish your sketch with everyone's names, you tuck it in your drawer, referring to it occasionally when glancing around the office.
About an hour before you wrap up on Friday, Hange bounds by your desk. "Hey! Greenie!" they say brightly. "Doing anything tonight?"
You wrinkle your nose. "Greenie?"
"It's what we call the newbies."
"It's what you call the newbies," Jean interjects. "It hasn't caught on."
Hange points an accusing finger at Connie, who shrinks into his desk. "I heard Connie using it the other day!"
"Sue me, it's catchy," he mutters in defense.
You think about how Levi called you Red during your night together and feel your cheeks warm. "I don't mind," you say. "Sorry, Hange, what were you saying?"
"Drinks! We thought it wouldn't hurt for you to get to know us a little more, and vice versa," Hange says, leaning back against your desk. "We'd be heading out after work."
You have to bite your tongue to prevent yourself from asking if Levi is going. He's your boss, you really need to stop fantasizing about it. "That sounds like fun," you agree, enjoying how Hange's eyes light up behind their glasses. "Thanks. Who else is going?"
"I am," Sasha says, leaning towards you. "We'd better be going to Scouts. They make the best hamburgers."
"We're going to Scouts," Connie agrees, sharing a high-five with Sasha. "Because I dared Jean to go for a hot wing eating contest with me."
"You're going down, Connie," you hear Jean call from his desk.
"Jean, the last time you ate hot wings, you spent half an hour in the bathroom," Armin points out, joining the conversation.
You watch Jean scowl. "I have poor digestion!"
"Tell that to the two bites you took out of one wing," Eren mocks.
"What, like you're any better, you suicidal bastard," he challenges. "At least I didn't vomit up everything in my stomach after!"
"Didn't you, though?" Marco muses.
"Eren, don't even think about it," Mikasa mutters when Eren opens his mouth to object.
"Besides, everyone knows that Bertolt's the only one who can make it through a whole thing of those hot wings," Ymir remarks, cocking her head at what everyone calls the 'Accountant's Corner'. "Ain't that right, Bert?"
Bertolt shrugs sheepishly. "I like them."
Reiner grins. "You'll eat anything on your plate."
"Yeah, didn't you almost accidentally eat a napkin last time?" Connie calls, grinning.
"I can make it through a full plate!" Sasha objects.
Historia chimes in from her desk. "You looked like you were going to breathe fire last time!"
"You're all idiots," Annie mutters.
"Everyone's got a thing for the hot wings at Scouts," Hange says, dragging your attention back to them. "I think Mike is sitting this one out, but Erwin should be going. Levi doesn't normally go to these, but it doesn't hurt to ask."
"Yes it does," Eren says, rubbing his forehead as if nursing a past injury.
"I'll ask," Hange declares, and the way everyone immediately stiffens would almost be entertaining if you weren't equally nervous for the outcome. They walk over to Levi's office and knock twice. "Hey! Grumpy!"
"Go away, Shitty Glasses," Levi calls back.
They pointedly ignore him. "We're going to go out for drinks after work to welcome the newbie," Hange says. "You in?"
There's a silence, then footsteps. The door swings open, and Levi's eyes skip from Hange to you. "You're not going anywhere if you don't have those numbers for me," he says, his eyes narrowed.
You turn back to your computer and press send on the email you'd been drafting. "Done," you reply.
Another heartbeat of silence. Levi raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell if he's annoyed or amused. "Fine," he says, "I'll go. But someone's buying my food."
"Yes, Captain!" Hange says, patting him on the back.
Levi swats their hand off with a scowl, then turns back to you. "Don't get a big head," he warns. "I still need records of all those reports you went through."
You try to hide your smirk. "Alphabetized or by date?" you ask innocently.
"Take a guess," he suggests.
"Physical copies as well?"
"Obviously."
"I'll have it in an hour," you say confidently.
Is it just your imagination, or is he smirking? "Forty five minutes," Levi says, "and I'm timing you."
His door shuts again, and Hange whoops in delight. "Levi never comes out," Sasha says excitedly. "We're half convinced he's a robot and needs to go home to recharge."
"Well, now we know the trick to it," Ymir says, smirking at you. "We just need Greenie here to flirt with him and he'll go."
"I knew that nickname would catch on," Hange says triumphantly.
You scowl, hoping you're not blushing. "That's pretty sad, if that's what constitutes as flirting for you."
"For Levi, it is," they say, ruffling your hair. "All worked out though!"
"But I wasn't-"
Hange presses a finger your lips, shushing you. "We don't question it," they whisper. "We just enjoy it."
"Four Eyes, leave my intern alone," Levi calls from his office.
My intern. Your heart flutters and you scowl to yourself. You can't be crushing on your boss. Hange bids you goodbye, skipping back to their desk, and you turn back to your computer, sighing to yourself. You have some reports to gather.
.
"You call him Captain because... he hates it?"
"Exactly," Sasha, Connie, and Jean say in unison.
"He apparently captained a varsity team in university," Marco supplies helpfully. "Hange started calling him Captain, and, well... it stuck."
You nod, taking a sip of your drink. "And the nickname Greenie?"
"Hange," Eren and Armin say at the same time.
You nod like that explains everything, which in a way, it does.
As soon as five o'clock hit, everyone was out of the office. Hange had offered you a ride, so you'd taken it, and you'd all gone directly to the pub. Scouts was huge, with several bars and dining tables, and already had an area set up for your large group. Everyone except Levi and Erwin came directly from work: Erwin said he had an important call and he'd be there soon, and Levi said he had to get changed first.
So the remaining fourteen of you are crowded at a cluster of tables, already a drink or two in with buckets of wings on the way. The staff seems to keep eyeing your group warily, and you're wondering if they've got a reputation. Judging from the rowdiness, it's highly likely.
"C'mon, Greenie, you should drink!" Hange says encouragingly, looping an arm around your shoulders. "What is that, a Sprite?"
You're not overly inclined to be drunk in front of your coworkers after your first week. "It's alright, I don't need anything," you say.
"Yes, you do," Hange disagrees. "Waiter!"
"Hange, stop trying to get the interns drunk!" Armin says, hand clutched tight around his own glass. "Remember what happened to the last one?"
"What happened to the last one?" you ask Mikasa, who's sitting on your left.
She pinches her lips together. "You don't want to know."
"He vomited all over the table," Eren supplies helpfully. "When we came back to work on Monday, his desk was cleared out. He quit."
"Nah, I think Greenie can handle her liquor," Ymir calls from the far side of the table. Her arm is looped lazily around Historia. "Right?"
"She seems like she can," Historia agrees, smiling.
You don't get a chance to reply, because Erwin arrives and the table erupts in cheers. Eventually, you cave, and you order one of your favorite drinks from the waiter. No harm in indulging a bit, as long as you keep an eye on yourself.
The alcohol, admittedly, makes you a little more talkative, and soon you've opened up a bit to your coworkers. Where you went to school, family and what they do- just small things. You hadn't really expected anyone to be interested. You would've been content to duck your head and do some solid work for four months, but your coworkers are making a genuine attempt to get to know you, so you do the same in return.
You learn that Eren, Mikasa, and Armin all grew up together, managed to go to the same schools, and even all got jobs in the same company when it was starting up. Jean tells you that he and Marco met in university and have been friends ever since. Sasha tells you about how she got this job by accident; Hange mixed up the phone numbers in the files.
Levi shows up after an hour and is met with a collection of boos. "You sure took your time, Captain!" Eren says.
"Had to deep clean the office for the third time this week?" Jean asks.
"Shut it or you'll be doing the cleaning," Levi warns, and he takes a seat near Hange. Your eyes linger on him for a bit too long: forest green collared shirt, two buttons undone, light brow slacks and black shoes. His hair looks ridiculously soft- you want to run your hands through it. The thought of running your hands through his hair reminds you of last Saturday, when you had your hands laced through that soft black hair as he pounded into you-
You shake yourself out of the vision and knock back the rest of your drink, hoping anyone watching you will excuse your red cheeks as drunkenness. "That a girl!" Hange says.
"You drank that fast," Eren notes from beside Mikasa.
You shoot him a smile. "Isn't that your fourth?"
"It is not," the brunet argues, taking a sip of his beer.
Reiner, who's seated on your right, nudges you with his elbow. "It's his fifth," he says, grinning.
"Reiner, you traitor," Eren says with a scowl. "Like you're one to talk! Isn't that your fifth?"
"Third," he corrects, taking a slow sip.
Bertolt nods. "It's his third. Sorry, Eren."
Eren glares, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them. "Traitors, the both of you. Stop counting my drinks!"
"Is Yeager already drunk?" Levi says dully, lacing his fingers on the table. "That's pathetic."
"He is not," Mikasa defends.
"This wouldn't be the first time," Erwin muses, bringing his own glass to his lips. "Remember that trip to Shiganshina?"
There's a collective shudder around the table, and you're both parts intrigued and nervous. "I'm not even going to ask," you say, shaking your head.
"An intern who minds her own business?" Ymir fakes a gasp. "Will wonders never cease?"
You laugh. "Well, give Eren another beer, and I'm sure he'll tell me."
"Wait! Greenie!" Hange grabs Levi's sleeve, and even though he brushes them off almost immediately, somehow they manage to seize him again. "Guess what the Captain's drink of choice is!"
"Don't make her try and guess," Levi protests.
Erwin leans forward. "No, I'm quite interested in this too."
Everyone stares at you, and you pretend to think. You already know, of course. Or, at least, you've got a rough idea. Levi finally meets your eyes, and you can't tell what he's thinking.
"Whiskey," you decide, unable to stop your smirk. The alcohol takes over and you just keep talking. "But he doesn't really like drinking, it just gives him something to keep in his hands. He does that thing where he swirls it aimlessly."
There's a pause. Levi's eyes widen slightly.
Then, Erwin chuckles. "She's good."
You take another sip of your drink, grinning. "So I got it?"
"Not really," Levi says with a scoff.
The waiter picks that moment to bring in a glass, set it on the table, and pour Levi a shot of whiskey, oblivious to the tension. The table erupts in laughter, but Levi just looks even more annoyed. He shoots you a death glare, then takes his glass and tips it back, tossing the contents down his throat without batting an eye. He slams the glass back on the table and glares at the waiter. "Another."
"Oh, he's pissed!" Jean says gleefully.
Everyone's attention is diverted when the hot wings arrive, and from there, it's every person for themselves. A few people- Eren, Jean, Connie- scoop piles onto their plate but only make it through a dismal amount before they're gulping down water. You're pretty sure water doesn't help with the heat all that much (aren't milk or yogurt supposed to be better?) but it's too loud to even think about voicing your opinion.
Sasha hoovers down so many wings in the blink of an eye that you're wondering if all of her taste buds have been destroyed from the spice. Bertolt also seems to enjoy them, but Reiner keeps tugging at his collar and fanning his face. Annie, who hasn't said a word all evening, eats them like they're nothing different from mild wings. Same with Mikasa. Neither of them appear phased by the heat.
Hange sporadically screams, "hot! Hot!" and Levi smacks and berates them, saying they should've known what they were getting into. Erwin watches with an amused smile on his face, but he doesn't touch the wings.
You laugh, you talk, and you drink, and you have more fun than you bargained for. You remain at a healthy buzz all evening: not enough to put you at an awful stage of drunk, but enough to make sure you'll enjoy yourself and still feel it in the morning.
Eventually, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, looking for a moment's relief amidst all of the chaos and chatter. On your way back, you find yourself stopped by the bar, watching the television. There's a basketball game on.
You've never really been an avid viewer of basketball, but you find yourself leaning against the counter and watching the game anyways. Maybe it's the alcohol.
One of the players has just sunk an excellent shot when you hear, "didn't take you for a basketball fan."
You tip your head sideways. Levi. "Not really," you drawl, turning back to the television. "But they look cool."
"You're drunk," he points out, leaning into the bar next to you, and you shake your head.
"Nah. Just tipsy." You feel his eyes drill into your head, then he too looks up to the basketball game. "You like basketball?" you ask, uncomfortable with the silence.
"No."
"Figures."
Levi turns his head. "Why's that?"
The words slip out before you can stop them. "Well, 'cause you're short," you say without thinking, turning to look at him.
His eyes flash, temporarily murderous, but it doesn't faze you. You raise an eyebrow at him. Levi quips, "yeah, you're drunk."
"Nope," you reply, popping the 'p', "just feeling good."
"You're an idiot." You hum in assent, feeling too nice to argue with him, and turn your eyes back to the screen. Several figures in red uniforms are passing the ball between the defense, and you're having trouble following all of the movements.
Levi says something and you miss it entirely. You spin back to him. "Come again?" you ask.
He raises an eyebrow. "I said, what the hell are you playing at?"
"Playing at?" you repeat, frowning. "I'm not playing at anything."
"Don't give me that shit, Red."
The nickname causes something to bubble in the pit of your stomach. "Don't- what-" you try to stammer out an excuse of some kind, but your head is starting to swim. "Look," you start, "I'm sorry, I'd assumed you... that you'd..."
"That I'd what?" Levi says, his voice lowering.
Do you bring it up? The rational side of your brain says no, that it's safer to keep tiptoeing around the subject and avoid talking about. But a part of you wants an answer: does he regret it? Does he care about what happened last weekend? You'd originally assumed he wanted to forget it, but he just called you Red. Why would he call you that if he wanted to forget it?
Rationality be damned. You straighten up and frown at him. "I'd assumed you'd want to ignore what happened last weekend," you say lowly. It's too hard to look at him; you turn your eyes back to the game. "I mean, I had no idea- no idea that you were my boss. And we never traded names, so I assume you didn't know me, but..."
You're well aware you're rambling, but it's hard to stop the words once they're free-flowing. "We can just pretend it never happened," you say, squeezing your eyes shut. "If that's easiest. Whatever works for you. Boss. Sir."
When you open your eyes and look back to Levi, nothing has changed about his usual neutral expression. Annoying prick.
Eventually, he says, "you're drunk and you're rambling."
You snort. "Not my fault you called me Red and brought it up."
Levi stiffens. Barely noticeable, but you still catch it. You lock eyes with him in some sort of stare down, wondering how this is going to work out. Several possibilities are running through your brain: being fired, being transferred to someone else, a verbal smackdown. Hell, if he threw something at you and shoved you, you wouldn't be surprised.
Instead, his eyes drop down to your lips.
They fly back up to your eyes so fast that you're not sure whether you imagined it or not. Your lips part in surprise, but Levi's steely neutral gaze doesn't waver.
"Oi! There you two are!"
An arm loops around your shoulders, and you have to push your hands against the bar to prevent yourself from going face first into the counter. Hange tries to loop another arm around Levi, but he's quick to evade. "Hey, Hange," you greet, still sort of reeling from your conversation with Levi- your boss. You really need to get yourself under control.
"Ah, you're a basketball fan!" Hange says, eyes fixed on the screen above your head. "C'mon, let's go back to the table, Jean looks like someone blew something up in his mouth." They tug your shoulder, grinning. "We can probably find a screen to watch the game on there. You a big basketball nerd?" They wiggle their eyebrows. "Or you just got a thing for tall guys?"
You shrug, and you're not sure where it comes from, but you say, "I like 'em short."
Hange laughs and tugs your arm, and you follow them back to the table. You resist as best as you can, but eventually you cave and turn back to look at Levi. He's leaning one elbow on the bar, and his eyes are drilling holes into the back of your head.
You cast a smirk at him- wildly inappropriate, what the hell are you doing- then turn back to follow Hange back to the table.
You're going to hate yourself for it in the morning, but you can't help but grin as you remember the smoldering look in his eyes.