#this is the central waters twenty year anniversary beer

[uncivilliberties]

Sometimes after a long day you really need a 14% beer.

[ultimaa]

OFFSIDE

Two shot

PART I

Summary: "You’re young, attractive and rich, but Martinique stands between you and the love of your life. Damn, I'm happy I'm not you."

Eren had two sacred rules during his holidays: no football, no social media and no England. These purposes involved moving a thousand kilometers from his apartment in Liverpool to enjoy a peaceful summer in his native Shigansina, a small town in southern Germany where everyone knew each other. There he was simply Dr. Grisha's boy. "Really? Come on, man, go to French Polynesia or Dubai," his partner Connie Springer said. "Shigan-what? Okay, don't mind me. I’m sure parties are great in your town..." Honestly, Eren spent his days off sleeping and playing video games. Sometimes he jogged — after all, he earned his salary thanks to his body — and drunk HB beer, but what he liked most was the feeling of making up for lost time. He loved football and played in one of the best clubs in the world, history would seat him at the same table as Ian Rush, Michael Owen or Steven Gerrard. He loved Anfield, but he was too young when he said goodbye to the field of earth soccer and was taken to Melwood, where his parents visited him once a month. At the age of twenty-six, with a brilliant career, Eren Jaeger returned to Germany like an elephant going to die in a cave, with his family, and then repeated the cycle of nostalgia. However, that year would be different.

The Jaeger couple celebrated their 25th anniversary and they organized a small party with relatives and close friends. Only Eren Kruger, best man, who was in a submarine five thousand meters deep, was absent. As for the others, they all attended: Zeke and Pieck, who had come from Berlin, Aunt Faye, Keith Shadis (Eren’s Godfather), Tom Xaver (Zeke’s Godfather), Hannes, Armin and his grandfather, Kuchel Ackerman (bridesmaid), Kenny Ackerman (usher) and Levi Ackerman. Grisha did not like parties, but Carla settled the discussion with a resounding statement: "Silver anniversary aren’t celebrated every day, darling."

While Hannes, old Arlet, Pieck and Kuchel made a beef stew and the couple danced to the sound of Wiener Blut in the sitting room, Eren opened a bottle of beer and toasted with Armin and Zeke.

"You’re the only one, brother," Zeke pointed out. "You’ll retire bachelor. With ten Golden Balls, but a bachelor."

"The golden bachelor," Eren corrected. "Hey, Armin, you're single too."

"Annie and I are taking some time." His best friend shrugged.

Zeke laughed. He was a cardiologist. "I understand the heart much better than you... in all aspects," he used to say. And it was probably true: he was married to Pieck and the ring did not bother him yet.

"Really? She has been in Australia for two months. Do you know how long Australians last in bed, huh? About seventeen minutes, behind only the Americans, the Canadians and the English. As for the Germans, only eight percent have participated in a trio. If I were you, I'd start to worry."

"Did you just tell me I'm a bad lover?"

"No. Statistics, Armin. Information."

"This dude is like that." Eren took a sip. "He throw the stone and hides the hand."

"I have no interest in offending the virility of the Germans. I'm German, in case you haven't noticed. Siegfried is my grandfather and every Friday I go drinking with Wagner, but not all women know how to appreciate the Central European charm. Also, Melbourne is one of the best cities to live."

"Annie is in Sydney."

"See? That's precisely the problem." Zeke finished his beer and put a hand on Arlet's shoulder. "You know exactly where she is, but does she remember you? When a woman puts fifteen thousand kilometers between her and her partner, she only has one goal: to forget. And while she builds her new beginning, you water her plants."

"I still wonder how you seduced Pieck," Eren said. "Did you take her to dinner with Kaiser Wilhelm and Angela Merkel?"

"Actually, she won me. Well, I fell into the trap. I thought I could escape later. I was wrong and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I ain’t immune to women either."

Zeke showed a wide smile. He was blond and had a magnificent bearing. When the waltz was over, he congratulated Grisha and gave him a beer. Then he hugged Carla and cleared his voice. They all looked at him.

"This woman you see here is suicidal: marrying a Jaeger is dangerous, but marrying a divorced Jaeger with a child is deadly. The first time I saw her I was seven years old and I thought: Will she be like Miss Rottenmeier? No, thanks to God. I had always been Ezekiel, but she started calling me Zeke and that's how my friends, my coworkers and my wife call me. In a way, he baptized me. She ain’t my father's wife or my stepmother. Sorry, Eren; Being an only child is wonderful, but she’s also my mother and I would like us to toast her, the woman who brought us together here today. Cheers! Who’s in charge of the music? Auntie, put Spring’s Voices on. Eren and I are gonna dance."

"Wonderful idea." Armin laughed. "Football? As Martha Graham said, dance is the hidden language of the soul."

"You bastards." Eren took his brother's hand.

"Don't step on my shoes."

Among the music and the wild laughter of Kenny and Hannes, Eren did not realize what was about to happen. No clairvoyant would have guessed it. He looked sideways and saw her appear: black hair, aviator sunglasses, and a cigarette between her lips. White rolled-up shirt, capri pants and strappy sandals. He lost concentration and Zeke roared with laughter. He knew, of course. The last time he saw her was on the eve of her trip to Martinique, where she had spent the past year. The waltz ended and they both bowed. Eren did not want to raise the head. Why had no one warned him?

"Levi told me she came back last night," Zeke whispered.

Eren did not even hear the applause. He quickly returned to Armin, who was chatting with Keith Shadis, a retired military man, about the Ardennes Counteroffensive and the Nuremberg Trials. "I am almost sure," said his friend, a historian, "that Franz von Papen died in '69."

"Mikasa is here," Eren hissed.

"I know," he nodded, "and I'm gonna greet her, she's my lifelong friend and I'm glad to see her. You should do the same. Don't think about what happened."

"Did you know? Armin!"

His friend approached her. Great. Eren slipped out into the garden with a couple of beer cans and sat down on a wooden bench. Pretend you don't care, he thought. It belongs to the past, that's it! Fuck! You have to call it by its name: pain. Before she left, they drank like a fish and ended up going to bed. That was last summer. They had not spoken about it since then. He could already hear wise and eminent Zeke Jaeger’s voice: "So you haven’t had a girlfriend since Christ was crucified, but you shag with your best friend. Da ya need to talk, Eren?" Shit! Maybe he needed to tell someone how much her decision to go to Martinique hurt when he declared her love. She had a degree in Arts, so she was offered to do a study about Paul Gauguin, who spent a time on the island. So Zeke would say: "The Caribbean? I'm sorry, brother, I'm so sorry. You and Armin can cry together."

Eren was in love with her. It is one of those truths that one understands with a broken heart. And this led him to reject the insinuations of several, too many women in recent months. There were rumors that he was gay.

"Look who's here: Reds’ Hunter," Mikasa greeted him. "Can I sit?"

"You can do whatever you want." Eren was not angry, but a little drunk. He scratched his right arm; Delacroix's Liberty was tattooed from shoulder to elbow; Lower down, on the forearm, Goya’s Colossus collapses the Berlin Wall. On the inside of the doll, an M. Again, he could hear his brother's voice calling him an idiot.

Mikasa sat next to him. Her skin was not as pale as before: Caribbean tan. The serious mouth was the same and the gray eyes had not changed. She had a fine scar on her right cheek.

"Congratulations on winning the Premier."

"Yeah, well, first in Liverpool's history." Eren groaned. "How did it go with Gauguin?"

"Excellently. Van Gogh said that Gauguin didn’t paint with the brush, but with the phallus. However, mayby he didn’t die of syphilis..."

"Are you kidding me? Do you congratulate me on the championship and talk about Gauguin's cock?" He let out a sardonic laugh. "If that's all you have to tell me after all this time..."

"This is neither the time nor the place".

"I don’t care. We fucked, Mikasa."

"I know. I was there."

"Really? Because sometimes I think about it and it seems a mirage. You've been avoiging the matter a whole year, a fucking year. You show up at my parents' party like nothing's wrong and talking about fucking Gauguin." Eren paused. "Annie is in Australia. Do you know how long Australians last in bed? Seventeen minutes. How long do Martinicans last?"

"I know what you're implying," Mikasa said seriously, "and you're wrong, Eren. You’re very wrong. Do you think I would be able to do that after sleeping with you?"

Carla Jaeger interrupted them; the meal was ready. They were not hungry, but an inexplicable feeling oppressed them: Eren's blood boiled; Mikasa's was frozen.

"When you want us to talk as adults, let me know," she said.

Adults! Eren said nothing. He sat between Zeke and Armin, who gave him a questioning look. Eren sighed and started eating. He remained oblivious to all the conversations, sharing looks with Mikasa, sitting next to her uncle Kenny. One year had passed and perhaps he was angry, but he winked al her. She smiled and caught the kiss Eren discreetly sent her, and showed her thumb.

"Okay," Zeke said, after wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Have I ever told you about friendship between men and women? No, because it’s impossible. Were you and Annie ever friends, Armin?"

"Huh… Yeah?"

"No. You wanted to have sex, but you didn't tell her."

"I know you know," Eren whispered.

"I’ve known for a long time. In fact, I knew it before you did, bro. You were like Heidi and Peter, and now, if you were alone, this would become ​Nine and a half Weeks.

For Zeke it was too obvious, but what about the others? Eren looked at them closely. They talked about politics, football, past... Levi was the only one who remained silent. He was not a very talkative man, unlike his mother and uncle. Kuchel and Kenny talked and laughed like no one else. As for Mikasa, whose premature orphanhood led her to grow up with them, her character was soft; silent, good listener and without his cousin’s curtness. Did she tell someone what happened? Maybe Sasha Braus? After the meal, Eren felt adult enough.

The whole evening passed pleasant between anecdotes and skat hands. Keith Shadis left around six in the afternoon; He had to return to Munich for work. As for the others, Carla insisted that they stay for dinner. While Grisha and Zeke had a scholarly conversation about the latest advances in medicine, Kenny was laughing loudly with Mikasa by his side.

"I never imagined that we would have an artist in the family."

"I'm an art historian," Mikasa pointed out.

"If God doesn’t give you children, Devil gives you nephews." Kenny lit a cigarette. "Ackermans have always been country people. Levi was the first to go to university; He was already a whiz since childhood. Fortunately, Mikasa followed suit.

"What is Martinique like?" Carla asked.

"Quiet. When it rains, goodbye internet and light, and of course I have to mention mosquitoes, humidity, heat and earthquakes," she paused, "but people are lovely and the landscapes are spectacular. They are exactly like on postcards. Oh, and the accra is very good."

"We could go on vacation, honey." Zeke looked at Pieck. "I'm tired of Sardinia."

"But you have to be careful with snakes," Mikasa continued, smiling. "I was bitten by a eyelash viper. Nothing serious, but I wouldn’t repeat the experience."

"One year has been enough, hasn't it?" Eren, who was playing cards with Armin, had his ears set on the conversation.

"Yes. For now I will stay here I’ll go to Munich in September to work at the Alte Pinakothek."

"It's fantastic," said Armin.

"And you’ll be close," added Kuchel.

So Munich. However, Mikasa commented on the possibility of another trip. She specialized in Impressionism and did not rule out settling in France. After dinner, when it was time to say goodbye, Eren pulled out his cell phone and wrote her a message: "Do you wanna talk?" She looked sidelong at him and replied, "Come home tomorrow. We will be alone." Jaeger thought about that last one; He smiled, pleased, and quickly typed, "Good."

They all left except for Zeke and Pieck, who would spend a few days in the village before returning to Berlin. It was like going back fifteen years ago, when they still crowd around under one ceiling. Carla loved having them all there. Her good character led her to have an excellent relationship with her daughter-in-law. Grisha was pleased with the situation; He played chess with Zeke for hours, in total silence. Eren used to watch them, attentive to the gestures, wondering how they could drag on a duel that long. And it all ended with one word: "Checkmate."

Zeke followed him into the garden with a cigarette on the lips. He had tried to stop smoking, but there are things a man can never give up, like mentholated Camel.

"You don't smoke, do you? What a pity. One or two cigarettes once in a while doesn't hurt anyone, Mr. Perfect Abs." Zeke blew out the smoke. "Munich. A wonderful city, especially in October."

"We’re gonna talk tomorrow."

"One day I take a look at the yellow press and I see you with Historia Reiss, and I think you're a lucky bastard. You’re young, attractive and rich, but Martinique stands between you and the love of your life. Damn, I’m happy I’m not you."

"I love you too." Eren frowned.

"I’m trying to help you. Don't screw it up, okay? A bad step now and you will regret it all your life." His brother clapped him on the back. "Now If you can excuse me, I'm going to make love to my wife in my fifteen-year-old room."

"I didn't need to know that."

…

Having the house to herself, Mikasa went down to have black tea. Frugal breakfast, as always. She felt like an intruder in her own town and jet lag was not benevolent. She wanted to stay in bed, she’s just got ants in her pants. She did push-ups and thought about the last exhausting year. Operation Gauguin, as she called it, had been a true odyssey. Fuck the Caribbean. She had missed Europe, her family and friends, but duty is duty. As for Eren, she could not reproach him for anything. He was angry. She should not have slept with him before she left; Mikasa kept thinking about it for a moment. Secrets and sex are a bad combination for consciousness. Besides, she left without saying goodbye. She behaved like a real motherfucker and would do it again: sentimentality is not advisable before a possible trip with no return. No, she couldn't listen to Eren's feelings before getting on the plane. Deep down, she suffered from the greatest weakness: love.

She lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. God, the cold slabs were nicer than any bed in the Caribbean. The woman forgot the physical and mental exhaustion when Eren touched the knocker. She took a breath and decided to improvise. The first thing Mikasa noticed was Dior's perfume. He was wearing an unbuttoned black polo shirt, gray jeans, and deck shoes. The three-day beard and dapper cut fit him very well. Those tropical eyes ... Shit!

Silence. Glances. It was inevitable. Eren closed the door behind him and received her kiss in a frenzy. Mikasa bit his lips, tugged at his hair. The man held her prisoner in his arms, sliding his hands down her back, her hips and her neck, anxious and needy. Their mouths were lost in each other's. Eren threw his head back and went deeper, searching for lost time. He licked her lips from corner to corner. The touch of tongues was deadly like a sword dance. They parted, face to face, panting, obscene. Mikasa wanted to make love to him in the middle of the hall and tell him how much she had missed him.

"Did you want to talk?" Eren planted another kiss.

"Yes," Mikasa replied. "I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I have a very interesting story to tell you, but I don't know if it will be more exciting than winning the English league."

"Ok, you know I prefer Monet, but..."

"It has nothing to do with Gauguin." Mikasa took his hand and led him into the living room. If she thought about it, it was a concise thing, but difficult to assimilate. Eren sat down on the sofa. She made him coffee and moved to his side, maturing the words in her head. "It's complicated. If you don't believe it, I get it. I’ve spent more time in Cuba than in Martinique. I haven’t done any study about Gauguin."

"What?" Eren looked at her seriously. "What's going on, Mikasa?"

"I've been working for Interpol for a couple of years. No one knows, only you. Crimes against cultural heritage."

"I don’t get it. What does that have to do with Martinique and Cuba?"

"During Nazism many degenerate works were plundered. Gauguin, Chagall, Klee... Some works were located last year. There was a certain black market for art among many American magnates. That is why I went to Cuba together with a team, to find out the whereabouts of some Gauguin works lost since 38."

"It’s definitely more interesting than winning the Premier." Eren drank from his mug thoughtfully, still amazed. "Was it dangerous?"

"Not much. At least not for me. My job is to see, evaluate and give a verdict, not shooting. Do you think I'm out there drinking Martini and driving an Aston Martin?"

"The idea excites me." The man touched the scar on her face. "And this? I don't remember it. It’s not on the maps that I have of your whole body."

"Then you will have to add it." Mikasa took the cup from him, put it on the table and leaned against him, kissing him calmly and sweetly. For a moment she thought she would never see him again, or maybe he would see her repatriated corpse with a bullet in the head. God! She hugged him and rested her head on his heart. Eren stroked her hair and she trembled at the memory. "It was a shot. I don't know how I'm still alive. I was so lucky..."

"My God," Eren whispered. "Why did you not tell me? Don’t trust me?"

"I know you. Worry wouldn't let you focus."

"Of course not. And now that I know why you left, it will take me a few weeks to recover from my fright. Damn, it hurt so much when you answered my messages as if nothing... I wanted to tell you about my feelings, but you always talked about trivial issues and I thought you didn't care what happened between us. Why?"

"I was scared. I didn't want to think about you or our plans. What would have happened to all those words if I had died? Look at this scar. It’s a miracle I’m still alive. It happened a few days after arriving. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. A rich man held a clandestine exhibition, I infiltrated and they discovered me. I didn't want to tell you that I love you and then die. I don't do things that way."

"And how do you do it?"

"Like this." Mikasa kissed him again.