Chapter Text
Warm weather on Paradis is a given. When considering their geographical location in the world, moderate summers are the standard. Very rarely do they see a mild season, and extreme heat waves come through the area every few years. Normally, survival is a matter of rolling up sleeves, shucking off jackets, and, on occasion, trading wool for cotton fabrics. The locals know how to stay cool, know where to find shade and have their own remedies for the unfortunate souls that fall prey to the heat.
The point being, they know how to live with it.
But, this is just absurd.
The scouts of the Survey Corps know the heat waves. They know the tricks. They have their own methods for the unbearable warmth. Being military grants them a small handful of luxuries. In the end, however, depending on the severity of the onslaught, sometimes it just comes down to loosening a few shirts. ...an option that a select population of the Corps doesn't have beyond a certain point.
And so they try to push for a change.
...
"New women's uniforms?" Erwin repeats the words to be sure he understands the request, ''What's wrong with what we already have?!''
Hange glares at him. "With all due respect, Erwin, we're suffering, here!"
Her jacket's been left in the lab, she's traded the long sleeved wool button-up shirt for a cotton T-shirt, and the few buttons it has are already undone. It's no longer tucked into her belt so neatly, and is instead unkempt and hanging loose around the harnesses. So much so that there's a potential for interference with the ODM gear if an emergency arises.
She's flanked by a group of female cadets who are in a similar state. They've done their hair up into various buns, braids and crowns, and they've tied brightly colored cloths onto their heads in a feeble attempt to redirect the sun's brutality back at it. There are several regulation and dress code violations standing in front of him, but he'd be remiss to pitch them before a tribunal. He's being stared down by nine women all together, arms folded across their chests, except for Hange, who's braced her hands on her hips.
Erwin is in a condition that's no better, either. He's attempted similar in rolling up his sleeves, has the same number of buttons undone, and he's still sweating his ass off. He's discarded his bolo tie to a drawer in his desk and even his hair is a bit of a mess.
"Well?!"
"It's not in th-"
"Don't say it. Don't even fucking try, Erwin."
The blond sighs and wipes a thick bead of sweat away from his temple.
"It's not in the budget. I'm sorry."
The brunette's lip curls back into a snarl.
"Ladies?"
Nine arms dispense nine purses of coin onto his desk, right on top of the report he's trying to fill out. Erwin stares at the hoard of satchels for a moment, and then looks back up. He does his best to not look exasperated.
"While I appreciate your...camaraderie, this isn't nearly enough for all of you."
"I talked to the seamstress, already. That's just the cost for the demo. You can't just bulk order clothes for women without trying a few things out, first. Haven't you ever gone shopping with a woman, before?"
He glares at her, unamused. Because she's worked with and for him long enough. The secret's out with her.
He picks up one of the pouches in frustration, "Do you at least have a design in mind?" 'Why am I even considering this?'
A sketchpad hits him in the face.
"We came up with a few ideas as a group and settled on one. Here, these are the measurements for it," she passes a separate slip of paper to him, "You'll send this order out today, right?"
"...this looks highly impractical."
"Oh, and l suppose you've personally field-tested what happens when burlap meets a heatwave and a menstrual cycle? You've got the expertise of a man who's been lost in the wrong dressing room since birth and I know you've been holding hands with a bloodhound the whole way-''
''-HEY-''
''-so I'd love to hear where you got your field notes on the migration patterns of afternoon boob sweat."
''...touché.''
Hange smiles, full of pride and just a pinch of emboldenment, and every woman behind her casts a particularly fiery scowl on him that willfully ignores his rank. Were he anyone else, they'd be charged with insubordination and possible mutiny. But they're not afraid of punishment, and he's not willing to dispatch it. He knows when he's outnumbered.
"You'll send it out today."
He waits until they've stomped out of his office to shake his head.
He's being bombarded with Hange's latest Titan findings when the package arrives three days later. He's swirling a glass of liquor in his hand while Mike leans against his desk, staying close out of habit, with Nile doing his best to stay awake on the couch when the knock on the door comes. It startles all of them.
Hange pauses as the door opens to reveal a young scout holding a carefully folded burlap square bound in twine.
"Um, ma'am, your uniform order arri-"
"-Oh, goodie!" Her face brightens like the sun and her notebook and the pile of papers in her arms are dumped onto the couch, right into Nile's lap.
Erwin pinches his nose bridge in mild frustration, feeling the edges of a headache creeping up on him. Mike tilts his head at him in concern, and he waves it off.
"Finally! Now, maybe some of us can suffer a little less!" and she starts for the door.
"Uh, ma'am, before you go," the youth waits for her to pause and turn to him, "the seamstress wanted you to know... There was a bit of an issue filling the order."
"Oh?" The brunette wavers slightly, but looks relatively unconcerned, "What was the problem?"
"Well, uh... Um..."
"Out with it, cadet!" Erwin rumbles, and ignores the steadying hand that lands on his shoulder.
"Yes sir!" he salutes quickly, "Um, the seamstress wanted me to tell you that she kind of...lost the slip with the measurements on it."
"...so, how did she do this, then?"
"W-well, because you paid ahead in full, she wanted to fulfill the order as quickly as possible. So she used the measurements from the last order that she took from the Survey Corps because she figured they're the most likely to still be alive."
The Commander tilts his head in thought. He can see the logic, as grim as it is.
"...okay," Hange lilts her voice in uncertainty, "So, whose measurements did she use, then?"
"Uh..." A bright pink streak proceeds to smother the boy's face.
"Whose measurements did she use, cadet?"
"Well, that's the thing, ma'am. She didn't check until after she was done. Um..."
Erwin sighs and tilts his glass back.
"Uh..." his voice rises to a squeak, "Captain Ackerman's measurements...?"
Erwin's throat halts and he spits the sip of alcohol out. Mike reaches a hand down to his back to sooth him as he starts coughing.
"C-can I go now, ma'am?"
"...yes, cadet. That'll be all," she says softly, nearly monotone.
The young man runs out the door before he can be executed as the messenger. The brunette clutches the package close to her chest, standing stiff as a board to process the information fully.
''What's so special about a uniform order?'' Nile asks, annoyed by the sudden silence, ''We order new uniforms all the time."
Erwin slouches and thunks his fist into his chest to clear the fire from his lungs. Hange...is too quiet.
Mike's nose twitches and his eyes narrow on her.
Their ears begin to pick up on a weird little rattle, rapid and seemingly distant. But her frame begins to shake with it, and before long, the sound grows into a full giggle as she turns her head back to stare at both of them.
''Idea...happening.''
''Hange...?'' Erwin finally breaks free of the burn, ''He'll never do it.''
Her glasses glint in the light to accompany a grin that borders on the realm of psychotic.
''Hange, don't.''
She deflates a bit, and for a moment, Erwin thinks he's shut her down. But that foolish concept lasts for only half a minute before she suddenly finds the burst of energy to bolt out the door.
''TRY AND STOP ME!''
He gawks at the open door, unsure if he should be amazed, terrified, or filling out her death certificate.
''...my top scientist is going to try ripping the pants off of Humanity's Strongest soldier.''
''You know what?!'' Nile shoves the pile of field research off of his lap and stands up, ''I don't wanna know. Leave me out of it. We've got a meeting in ten minutes.''
At least he shuts the door behind him.
Mike turns his attention back to Erwin. There's a tinge at the furthest ends of his ears. The kind that anyone would be forgiven for mistaking as heatstroke. But he knows better. The air in the room fluctuates with a rush of pheromones all to familiar to him.
''She's a dead woman,'' Erwin says quietly, and turns his focus back to the bureaucratic nightmare crowding his desk. But he can feel the hyper vigilance pouring out at him. And while he can be dense at times, typically with social matters, he's not an idiot, and he knows better than to try dodging the inquisitive gaze of his... well.
''...''
Erwin sighs, ''I saw the sketch, I'm not straying, but I'm allowed to fantasize from time to time.''
''...tell me.''
The Commander rolls his eyes even as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Fine. After I fill out the requisition forms for a new head of the science department.''