Survived (Levi X Reader)

Chapter 7

At least when you cleaned nobody spoke to you really. Mostly it seemed as though they were silent in solidarity, like you were being punished. But given the barracks you remember, crowded and loud with overzealous and obnoxious 'heroes', a dusty closet with a window and your own bed seemed nice. A little bit of dust wouldn't bother you, but the smell of old dirt and whatever messes the old cleaning supplies had cut through wasnt the most exciting thing.

You wore a simple tunic and trousers, the loose fitting rags being an oddly welcomed change. When scavenging for the better part of a year and more, being so concerned with actually fitting clothing wasn't really a primary focus. Your shredded jacket was draped over your back like a badge of stubborn pride. Erwin may have politely reminded you once or twice about the newer jacket readily available on the shelf of your closet room, but you smiled sweetly and shook your head, the disgust of Levi's glare still burned cheerily into your brain when you bluntly told him you wouldn't remove your jacket or throw it away.

The small dictator seemed to hover around you with caution, like wettened fingers over a flickering candlestick. He kept a short distance at almost all time, careful not to let it be known how invested he must be in you. He wanted you to be punished and reinvested into the survey Corps no doubt, but the sweet spot you held as Erwin's childhood friend threatened his power.

Yes, at a moment he could swipe down and expunge your behavior with enough harsh words and punishment, but not without the risk of his own station and retaliation from the man he respects most. It's was like he held a genie's bottle, but the genie within bluntly denied he was a genie at all and simply refused to grant his wish. You moved meticulously about your chamber, counting the heavy stone blocks that lined the wall and muttering to yourself under your breath.

As you cleaned the small space, taking old buckets and battered mops from their corners and lining then up against the wall outside your room. You sifted through the remains, the poor state of many of the supplies implied they hadn't been touched in ages. The castle like home was old no doubt, but every other placed your managed to see seemed pristine and well kept. As your fingers caressed the warped wooden handle of a straw broom, the splintered wood became almost audible with a firm grip. You added it to your quickly growing collection.

Dust swirled in the air as you gingerly lifted out pile after pile, placing them alongside the wall until a sizeable pile of eerily stacked supplies loomed in a tall pyrimad.

You sneezed incessantly, sniffling dramatically before blowing your nose horn once more. Levi responded with a curt growl and cold look, face becoming stoney as you looked at him, wiping your nose on your sleeves and smiling. "I hope you know you'll be expected to take care of all of those." He said curtly, jerking his head vaguely in the direction of the collection you'd made in the hallway.

Though he sat in his office, placed merely eight feet across the hall with a few large paces towards his seat, his bark was so aggressive it felt like he was squealing from right in front of you. You merely rolled your eyes and returned to your bedside, looking at the wall once more. Again you counted the stones along your walls, one now freshly liberated from the large amount of abandoned cleaning.

You smiled proudly to yourself, counting in your head and estimating your new allotted space. Previously your room felt no bigger than fifty square feet, mostly occupied by the large shelving and the cot you'd slept. But having cleared the wreckage you opened about another thirty square feet. Though still filthy, layered with old water stains and thick dirt, you weren't quite done. You looked to the few pieces of furniture in the room. Dropping to your knees, you looked beneath your bed and scanned slowly along the floor.

To your distaste there was still a considerable amount of filth beneath them as well. You sighed, rolling your sleeves back and steeling your resolve. First stealing an old, torn chair retrieved from the clutter, once stacked high with wooden buckets, you took the straw end of a broken broom and beat the dirt into the air. A cloud arising. You beat it until the broom shed straw and the cloud seemed to dissipate enough that only bits of feather down escaped.