HOME | DD

Description
A/N: Warning for drug reference. I dunno, I guess don't read if weed makes you angry or something.

Your lids droop lazily as you look out the window of the car, your friends sitting around you much in the same way. A tar-like scent clings to the interior of the vehicle and everyone in it despite all the windows being rolled down; you used to wrinkle your nose and gag at the smell, but now you just sigh in a way that implies your disinterest in the moment before taking another drag from a roll of weed. You feel a kick to your shin from the right and glance at the tall boy.

"Whadya want, Jean?"

"I want you to give me the rest of that." You fully turn your head towards him, taking in his shit-eating grin, red-rimmed eyes; you blow some smoke into his face, chuckling when he coughs.

"Do me a favor and kindly fuck off, Kirschtein. You're high enough."

"And you aren't?" Eren pipes up from the front seat.

"Yeah, [y/n], maybe check a mirror," Connie adds from your left.

"Shut up, all of you, you're killing my buzz." It's silent for a moment before you ask, "Hey, Armin buddy, you doing okay up there?" The blonde boy shrugs.

"I'd rather be home, but whatever. It's better than letting one you drive and get someone killed."

"There's my good little responsible kid," you coo, reaching up to ruffle his hair. While you're scooted up in your seat, your hand is extended a bit to the right of you, and Jean takes this chance to pluck the blunt from between your fingers. He takes a long drag.

"Asshole!" you snarl, whirling on him. "Give it back!" The pig takes it out rom between his lips, and you think maybe he'll actually listen for once, but instead he pokes out his tongue and licks down the side of it.

"Still want it?"

"That is it," you say, temper rising as your high falls. "Let me out."

Your designated driver starts to say, "[y/n], you sure? It's pretty cold out…"

"Armin, let me out of this car right now or so help me God I will punch Kirschtein's horse face right in." Needless to say, Armin pulls over, and as you push past Connie, you hear Eren, Armin, and Connie call out multiple versions of "stay safe" and "see you later".

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you grumble, waving slightly in their general direction. They were right about one thing - it's damn cold out. You pull up your hood and stuff your hands in your pockets, breaths coming out in white puffs. When your phone dings in your jeans pocket, you step into a Rite-Aid to answer so your fingers don't freeze off. It's Kirschtein.

"What now, Jean?" you groan while shuffling through the aisles.

"Don't come home tonight," he says bluntly, offering up no explanation.

"What the hell, man? Why? Where else am I supposed to go?"

"Stay with Armin or something. I'm pissed at you, and Marco's coming over tonight, so..."

"You know I can't stay with Armin, his grandfather hates me."

"Well, you aren't exactly a cookie cutter kid, [l/n]. Maybe get a job or something, and stop mooching off of all your friends…"

"Shut up, Kirschtein, you know I've been trying to find work."

"No wonder you haven't been hired."

"Jesus Christ, fuck you, asshole! I do my best!" You're shouting now, and some mothers and their kids are staring at you. You hang up the phone as one nervous looking employee says, "Miss, I think I need to ask you to leave."

You wave her off. 'Yeah, I'm going. I'm going." Walking outside, when the cold air hits your face again, you realize that your eyes are watering up. Your lip trembles as you shiver. The sun is setting, you don't have anywhere to stay - Jean was right, you can't ask your friends to lend you a room. As the streetlights start flicking on, some stray tears trickle down your cheeks.

"No," you mumble, more following. "No, no, no. Wh-where did I go wrong?" Soon, sobs are wracking your body and you can hardly see where you're walking. You check your phone and see it's only been a few minutes, maybe 10 since you got kicked out of the store, when you hear shouting from behind you.

"Hey, you, girl! Stupid, are you deaf?" You ignore it, until a hand clamps down on your shoulder.

"The hell is wrong with you?" You're turned around and you stare, surprised, down at the face of a very short, very angry man, before his brows furrow and he states, "You're crying."

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious," you mutter as you try to wipe your eyes dry. "So what did you want? And I swear to God I will punch you in the dick if you're trying to pick me up."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, kid. You're a bit young for me."

"So what did you want?" you groan, pressing your fingers against your closed eyes.

"I just heard you in the store. Wanted to see if you were okay. You're obviously not." He leans a bit closer, sniffing, and in turn, you lean back.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask, growing weirded out and uneasy.

"You smell like pot. You can get in big trouble for that crap, you know."

You shrug, looking away. "I know," you whisper. The man's hard façade softens slightly.

"Do you need help, kid?" he asks more gently. You nod slightly, eyes staring to burn again, pride stinging.

"What can I do?"

***

You ended up asking him to bring you to a 24-hour gym, and he did, despite his slight confusion at the request. (You sat in the back seat and every so often told him he'd better not turn out to be a kidnapper or skin-stealer, and that you had the cops on speed-dial. He just snorted.) You were smart though, and knew if you bought a membership, you could stay there overnight, have free range of the showers, locker room, everything.

The man, who you learned is named Levi, gave you some money for the membership - which made you feel sorta bad for threatening to call the police on him (only sorta, you still are only a teenage girl and he was the man behind the wheel of the car).

***

For the months of winter, you alternated between staying at the gym and staying with Jean, although he started having Marco over for "sleepovers" more and more. You usually slept at the gym. (Your physique seemed to improve though, so you didn't complain.)

Some days after school you still went smoking with the guys, but you started hanging out with Armin more, just watching movies together, or playing video games, stupid crap like that. Levi checked up on you every few days, whenever he could get away from his work and coworkers. You started learning about "shitty glasses" (a.k.a. Hanji, the crazy scientist) and "Commander Eyebrows" (Erwin, the boss). Levi even told you about his days as a soldier, the soldier apparently, and his losses.

***

And eventually, summer came. The snow that Levi paid you to shovel out of his driveway melted away. You've long since been able to pay him back the money he lent you in the winter, what now feels like so long ago. Now that it's warm, you mow his lawn, trim his hedges, and you even planted some flowers for him; after a while he invited you to help him out inside, too. You're kept out of trouble now that your arms are full of so many seemingly mundane tasks. You feel like every time it seems he's run out, he pulls another odd job out of his ass, and you've never been more thankful. He's trying to keep you safe.

One day, when you're starting to get out stuff to make sandwiches while you and Levi take a break from repainting the outside of his house - blue with white shutters, of all colors - he says, "Yo, [y/n], you go sit down, I'll make the sandwiches. I have to ask you an important question."

"Oookay," you say, curious. You put down the bread and sit on a stool at the counter. While Levi puts the bread in the toaster and starts getting plates, he talks.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, maybe still not long enough, but it's almost been a year since we met. Despite your stupid fucking habits and sense of humor, I've come to respect you. Like you, even. You work hard and do things right and always somehow manage to keep that damn smile on your face --"

"Y'know, Levi, this is starting to sound like a proposal," you quip, 'that damn smile' growing wider. His back is to you, so you don't see his expression, but he freezes for a second before saying, "Shut up, idiot. I'm old enough to be your father." The man starts putting toppings on your sandwich as he offhandedly says, "Point is, do you want to move in with me? I care for you like a daughter, kid. Can't just let you live in a gym for the rest of high school --" He's still talking, but you can't help yourself.

"Yes!" you shriek, jumping up and running straight into his back, wrapping your arms around him. He unlatches you only to turn around; his arms hold you close, and you stoop over a bit to bury your face in his shoulder. One hand begins patting your [h/l] [h/c] hair as you whisper, "Levi?"

"Mm?"

"Does this mean I can call you dad?"

His response isn't immediate, but when he answers, you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

"If you want, brat. If that makes you happy."