#levi's serenity gown is so perfect

[candycityy]

Ooh rivetra and 20 or 76 (or both if you want to ;)) for the Drabble prompts pleeeease 🧡🖤

Note: I did both because what can I say, I love a challenge, hehehe. I hope you like it!

References this earlier drabble.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

So here's the thing, right. For all his flaws—and he does have flaws, no matter what the fawning masses think—Levi isn't stupid.

Sure, he's not probably not cut out for the rarefied, upper-crust intelligentsia that Erwin Smith moves in. And sure, certain idiots of the variety of Hanji Zoë might swear on their dying breaths that he's all brawn and no brain, et cetera, but the truth is, he's got enough street smarts and common sense that most people conveniently overlook his awful social skills.

And that means that contrary to popular belief, Levi doesn't totally suck at social events. The Sina elite tend to misread his frosty bluntness and lack of etiquette as a refreshing, man-on-the-street brand of humour. Which, well, whatever works, he supposes.

Unfortunately, as a matter of consequence, that means that even with a hyperactive three-year old at home, Erwin had point-blank refused to let him off for this year's Midwinter Ball. He'd given him leave for the past few since Ava was still far too young to be left alone at home, but judging by the commander's expression, he's just about exhausted his excuses.

"You know the state of our finances, Levi," he'd said, cerulean eyes earnest and entreating. "We need every coin we can get. And, well, you're always quite popular at these balls, being humanity's strongest and all—not accounting for taste, of course—"

"Oi!"

The commander'd smirked, but his expression had faded back to solemnity quickly enough. "We need you there, Levi. I won't make it an order, but consider it...a personal request. Please?"

Levi'd grumbled under his breath. "Whatever. I'll go, I'll go, just stop looking at me like that," he'd barked.

Erwin had smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Levi."

Cut to the present. It's just past six o'clock, the winter sky only now beginning to darken into a somewhat forbidding shade of violet-grey. He's already dressed in his standard black suit, pacing back and forth the small living room, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

Petra, who's in the midst of removing the curlers from her hair, shoots him an irritated look. "Would you calm down," she hisses, "you're driving me crazy. And Ava's going to pick up on it too, you know."

They both glance at their daughter, who's serenely colouring in a picture in crayon at the other end of the room. The three-year-old is Petra in miniature, from her wide eyes right down to her peaches-and-cream complexion. With just one exception: her hair is just a touch darker than her mother's: more cinnamon than honey.

Levi runs a hand through his hair. "Why aren't they here yet?" he says, for the third time that night.

"Because we told them to come at half past," Petra replies, with somewhat less patience than she'd ordinarily have. "Now get over here and help me do up my necklace, would you."

The metal is cold to the touch, but Petra just smiles softly as he clasps the necklace behind her neck with deft fingers. "Remember our first Midwinter Ball?" she reminisces. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Levi says drily. "I was busy dragging Auruo off the dance floor after he puked and blacked out, remember?"

She giggles. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part. But still, that was when we danced together for the first time." They fall into a comfortable, nostalgic silence, and finally, he sighs.

"I still don't like leaving her alone," he mutters.

"It's hardly the first time," Petra says gently.

"I know, but it's the first time we'll be so far from her. And for so long, too—a whole night." His eyes turn contemplative. "Maybe I could just ride back, after the ball—if the weather isn't bad—"

"Don't even think about it," she says sharply. "The roads aren't safe this time of year, especially not so late at night, there's too much ice. We'll be back in the morning, Levi. Don't worry so much."

He snorts. "Easier said than done. Why aren't they here yet?" he asks again. This time, Petra ignores him, instead turning back to the mirror and carefully applying lipstick with a practiced hand.

After the final step—dusting her cheeks with rose-tinted powder—she rises to her feet, doing a slow turn in her gown, a sleek, champagne-coloured affair with a fitted bodice and fluted sleeves, cut out of satin and embellished with tiny buttons down the front. Her delicately curled hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone, just brushing the front of her dress.

"What do you think?" she goes. Oblivious to his sullen silence, she juts out a hip and flutters her lashes at him coquettishly, an action which earns her an eye-roll.

"You're going to make everyone stare," he grumbles. She giggles.

"I have to keep your fangirls away, now don't I?" she teases, with a toss of her head. He's about to issue a retort when a knock comes at the door.

"Right on time, as usual," Petra declares. Levi just scowls.

He'd had been reluctant to get them back after the first disastrous incident, but Petra had insisted that they'd done a good job—"after all, Ava was perfectly fine, wasn't she?" As a result, Eren and Jean have become their go-to babysitters ever since. Levi's loath to admit it, but their daughter has warmed up to them. She's already toddling over to the door with a ready beam on her face, as the boys troop in through the door, faces flushed with the cold.

"Eren nii-chan! Jean nii-chan!" she chirps, plump arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pleaaaase?"

Eren breaks into a grin and obliges. His terror of Levi has subsided somewhat, although he still occasionally trips over his feet whenever he walks past, but he openly adores the toddler. Jean's a bit more reserved, but as Ava begins to babble cheerfully, his expression noticeably softens—even though he claims he's not a fan of babies, Levi suspects that he's secretly just as enamoured with Ava as his comrade is.

Of course, that only makes sense, considering that as far as Levi is concerned, Ava Ackerman is the cutest fucking baby on the planet.

Outside the door, there's the distant sound of approaching hooves pounding against cobblestone. Sensing a farewell, Petra sighs and leans over to give Ava one last hug, as Levi presses a gentle kiss to his daughter's cheek.

"We'll better be off," she says reluctantly. "Boys, thank you so much for taking care of Ava tonight. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do."

All four adults exchange grim, silent glances; they know what's coming next. Levi picks up his coat and shrugs it on. Petra wraps a scarf around her neck.

And with a sigh, they push the door open, and wait.

Three, two—

"Nooooo!"

Ava lets out a ear-splitting shriek, one that seems far too loud to come from such a small baby. Her eyes well up with anxious tears as she comes to the awful realisation that her parents are leaving without her, and she struggles desperately towards them, her face screwed-up and flushed with fury, as Eren doggedly tries to keep her from wriggling out of his arms. Beside him, Jean attempts in vain to ply her with sweets and toys, but she won't be soothed or distracted.

"No, no, no!" Ava wails. Her tiny fists pummel Eren's shoulder, who, to his credit, doesn't flinch, just hefts her up resignedly. "No go, no go! Stay!"

Petra sends him a warning look. And even as every atom of his body rebels against the thought of it...

Levi steps over the threshold, and into the wintry night air.

==

"Levi," Petra says patiently, "you're fidgeting."

She places a hand on his thigh, which, apparently, he'd been subconsciously jiggling all this while. Calming Ava down had taken about ten whole minutes, but Eren and Jean had finally managed to distract her with a game of hide-and-seek—her new favourite—and they'd quietly snuck onto the carriage before she could realise their trick.

They're barely more than a mile from home, but already being away from Ava feels like a piercing, physical pain in the front of his skull, a palpable anxiety that refuses to fade. Even Petra's presence, usually so comforting, doesn't soothe him in the slightest.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It's just—it's fucking terrifying, being a parent." His wife touches his cheek in silent commiseration, and they both sit in silence.

It's as perfect a night as it could ever be, in all honesty. The moon is full and bright, its silvery light beaming helpfully onto their path. The road is almost deserted this evening—Levi supposes most people would rather be safely tucked in the warmth of their homes, celebrating the holiday season with their own families instead of with dozens of expensively-attired strangers.

Fuck it all. Sensing his blood pressure rising, he takes a deep breath. The air is cool and dry and calming. Turning to stare out at the window, he listens to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the horses' hooves, their huffed pants of exertion, the metallic whine of the wheels—

Levi frowns. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Petra starts to ask, and then stills—this time, she'd heard it too. That high-pitched, bell-like sound, that sounds disturbingly like...

She swallows. "D-did you just make that noise?"

He stares at her drily. "I don't think my vocal chords could physically manage that."

"You don't think..." Her jaw drops, and she almost leaps towards the driver's seat in her urgency, startling the poor old man. "Excuse me! Stop the carriage, please!"

The horses have barely come to a halt when Levi disembarks from the carriage in one swift, fluid movement. He strides towards the back of the carriage, where, he knows, there's a small compartment built in, just large enough for their overnight bags and gear.

As well as—perhaps—a three-year-old toddler, if she were crouching quite close to the floor. Like, for instance, in a game of hide-and-seek.

His expression is grim as he tugs open the lid of the compartment. Behind him, Petra looks frozen, her face a mixture of trepidation and incredulity and just the tiniest hint of amusement.

The lid comes loose. "Daddy!" their irrepressible daughter exclaims, springing out of her crouching position. She giggles again, that familiar high-pitched, bell-like sound almost unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. "Mama! Ava came along!"

For a second, both parents are struck speechless as they stare at their cheerful stowaway in wordless horror.

Finally, Petra opens her mouth to speak.

"You don't say," she deadpans.

==

By the time they reach Sina, the ball has already started.

Of course, considering how they had to turn back around (much to the chagrin of the carriage-driver), tuck Ava very firmly into bed (it goes easier this time, considering how exhausted she is from the very dramatic game of hide-and-seek), reassure a terrified Eren and Jean that they're not mad (although Levi still isn't sure, to be honest), and allow them to resume sentry duty before leaving, he figures they actually made pretty good time.

Other than the very pointed, self-righteous look the doorman shoots them as they stumble into the hall, they manage to blend into the crowd with relative ease. They quickly touch base with the rest of the squad and collect two well-deserved flutes of wine before searching for Erwin, if only to reassure him that they did, in fact, come.

The commander is, of course, easy enough to spot, what with his stature and all. And although he initially looks mildly disapproving, his expression quickly turns wry once he hears the tale.

"That's quite a story," he says, nodding politely at a passing noblewoman, who blushes alluringly and bats her eyes. "Although, I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all, considering."

Petra giggles. "Touché. Although, maybe next year, we can bring her along. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Over my dead body," Levi says flatly. "But maybe next year, you'll let me stay home, Erwin."

The blonde man sighs and casts his eyes skyward. Around them, the party thrums cheerfully, soldiers mingling with nobles, careful words and casual touches exchanged over good dance and better drink. But although the atmosphere is thick with holiday cheer and inebriation, the commander seems wearily immune. "Maybe next year, I'll finally resign."

Levi snorts and lifts his wine-glass. "I'll toast to that."

Drabble challenge!

#thank you for the prompt!! #rivetra #levi x petra #attack on titan #levi ackerman #petra ral #aot fanfiction #candycity writes