The grip on his hand is painful, but Erwin holds back just as tightly. For so long, Levi had been his bastion, a fortress of strength when he felt himself failing. And now, after all of it, when the weight of it all had left him irrevocably changed and fractured, Erwin can do nothing but ensure that he knows all of his efforts and sacrifices were worth it, in the end. That he is here to hold him up if need be, to hold on and not let go and buttress him, that he will never be anything other than proud and grateful and endlessly happy just to look at him again.
Even if what he sees spurs him to do such things as kneel before him twice, or what he does now as he rises, sliding his arm slowly across Levi's shoulders to bring him into an embrace and press his face into dark hair. Perhaps it's too much - they're technically in public, even if it's dark and they're tucked away, and their only other embrace had been less than an hour ago.
But it's harder to hold back, he finds, when you've been dead (for years) and there's still an unmistakable fragility in Levi's voice and evidence of tears on his face. Affection was something he'd had to abandon, foregoing giving or receiving, no matter his personal inclinations if he'd wanted to survive as commander. But he'd done his duty, his soul freed by Levi and the others, and now...now they're in a place that encourages touch, and the warmth that flows between them feels so wonderfully, perfectly, good.
Erwin holds for as long as Levi allows, wishing he had his other arm even just for this moment, to fully envelop him. His hair his soft like silk against his skin, his scent clean and crisp like a winter wind, and though they've not been so close before, there's still an achingly familiar scent that's just Levi. Surreptitiously, he allows himself one final indulgence, leaving a soft, barely there press of lips to the top of his head before slowly pulling back.
"I'll flaunt them as many times as necessary," he says with a soft chuckle, returning to his seat. "But I promise to keep it to a minimum."
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Even if what he sees spurs him to do such things as kneel before him twice, or what he does now as he rises, sliding his arm slowly across Levi's shoulders to bring him into an embrace and press his face into dark hair. Perhaps it's too much - they're technically in public, even if it's dark and they're tucked away, and their only other embrace had been less than an hour ago.
But it's harder to hold back, he finds, when you've been dead (for years) and there's still an unmistakable fragility in Levi's voice and evidence of tears on his face. Affection was something he'd had to abandon, foregoing giving or receiving, no matter his personal inclinations if he'd wanted to survive as commander. But he'd done his duty, his soul freed by Levi and the others, and now...now they're in a place that encourages touch, and the warmth that flows between them feels so wonderfully, perfectly, good.
Erwin holds for as long as Levi allows, wishing he had his other arm even just for this moment, to fully envelop him. His hair his soft like silk against his skin, his scent clean and crisp like a winter wind, and though they've not been so close before, there's still an achingly familiar scent that's just Levi. Surreptitiously, he allows himself one final indulgence, leaving a soft, barely there press of lips to the top of his head before slowly pulling back.
"I'll flaunt them as many times as necessary," he says with a soft chuckle, returning to his seat. "But I promise to keep it to a minimum."