First: Open
"What?" His navy eyes seemed electric tonight, and she could do nothing but allow the wave of energy to wash over her.
"Mira…" He began, leaning toward her. "What's wrong?"
A man of such few words. Not one for easy conversation. Not one who understood he was desirable.
Humble to a fault.
His question was earnest; he had no clue how deeply her yearning ran. He still didn't understand what he did to her, when all he was doing was simply sitting there, taking quiet swigs from his mug of ale. He was just being. He was just sitting at her bar, existing.
Well, to anyone else.
To Mirajane, he was sparing piteous glances at Natsu as Lucy scolded him for running rampant with his firecracker temper again. He was softly smirking at Gajeel's flustered cheeks when Levy would lean just close enough to brush their shoulders together as she animatedly described her read of the week. He was nostalgically gazing at little Asuka as she sat atop his grandfather's narrow shoulders, almost as if he could see the child he used to be. Before all the mess and all the tragedy and all the bullshit that turned him into the scarred man he is now.
But Mirajane just so happened to adore that man, and she couldn't help herself as she reached a slender finger forward to gently trace the scar across Laxus Dreyar's right eye.
He froze, back ramrod straight, shoulders rigid. But she just stared, showing no sign of embarrassment, for either the blush dusting the bridge of her nose or the invasive action.
"Nothing's wrong, Laxus." She said his name like a promise, and he didn't know what to say back to something so honest, so he just sat quietly and looked at her for a while. His shoulders relaxed and he gradually settled back into his typical slouch, but his eyes were still magnets to her face. Her eyes were the kind of blue he wanted a whole sky of. Her lips had this way of tossing hand grenades at his walls, all the while dressed like an honest to God blushing half moon. He'd gladly dance with the little bombs scattered around his feet, if that meant he was worshipping this Goddess as she destroyed every cracked brick protecting his tortured head.
He realized these things all at once, in one single, soft exhale. He welcomed the insight like some feast to a dying man whom didn't know the cause was starvation. Hollow, weak, surprised. Open.
"S'long as you're okay," his stoic mouth supplied, at last.
And she just smiled. A man of such few words. Not one for easy conversation. Not one who understood he was desirable.
Humble to a fault.
She wanted nothing more than to raise him up. And she got the distinct feeling from the way he was staring at her now, that he was finally willing to let her.
A/N: First things first: I don't own Fairy Tail or any of its characters, Hiro Mashima owns all of that. Literally all of it. La dee da.
Second things second: I know this one's short. But it's just a little warm-up for what's the come.
Third things third: Please leave a review with a request for an AU you so THIRSTY for. I'mma get you that drink real quick, son.
xo syd