Short drabble for Stress release.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail.
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Her hands always seemed to be moving.
It was probably because she herself was made of water, Gray had thought when he had first noticed this weird habit of hers. Water always seemed to move, to flow. Like a river. Or a stream.
She would run her thumb up and down the handle of her pink umbrella, she would drum her fingers as quietly as she could on the bar's table, she would trace miniscule and seemingly nonsensical patterns on the side of her skirt—and sometimes, she would bring her hand to a fist, then uncurl it, and she would tap the sides of her thighs, as if she was playing an invisible piano. He watches her in slight irritation.
It irked him, seeing her fingers always fidgeting beside her.
Once, she helped Lucy, Erza, and Wendy make a cake for Mirajane's birthday party.
The mess was incredible.
If he was honest, he would blame those fingers of hers—always itching to move, always wanting to create motion. She might've stirred too quickly. She might've turned up the heat higher than necessary. Whatever she did, he wanted to blame those hands of hers.
He found great joy, however, to find those moving hands settle themselves perfectly in between his.
The first time he held her hand willingly was during the unison raid.
His main excuse?
They just needed to defeat Lyon and Chelia. They just had to go all out.
And he just had to put a hand on her shoulder. He just had to hold her hand.
It was a moment he would remember in the confines of his sleep, plaguing him. Her hand wasn't moving when he held it. It stayed perfectly still, comforted by his. Her hand was warm, and he felt the need to run his fingers across it.
Her hand didn't move when he held it.
Many a time had he felt the burning desire to just grab her hand and hold it in place, stopping its movements permanently.
After all, an ice mage can only feel so much irritation.
What irked him more was that Lyon fucking noticed it.
The ice mage gripped the handle of his beer bottle with more force than necessary, and a few cracks appeared at its surface. Mirajane had offered him a new one, but the ice mage refused, instead freezing the bottle over with his ice.
That idiotic bastard.
"Juvia-chan," the insensitive motherfucker had started, looking the blue-haired mage over. "Why are your hands moving?"
Juvia had been outlining nonsensical patterns on the table as she entertained the ice mage. She raised her head in confusion as she looked at Lyon. "What?"
"Your hands—"
"Juvia," Gray interrupted, his irritation evident in his voice.
"Gray-sama!" Juvia greeted immediately, smiling brightly. Her eyes lit up at the mere sight of him, and he could feel his ego boost a little bit. "You talked to Juvia first!"
"Oh Gray, I was just talking to Juvia here—"
"Shove it Lyon," Gray said, glaring at his "brother." The latter, surprised, raised an eyebrow at Gray.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," answered the dark-haired man, taking a seat beside Juvia. "How's Lamia Scale, Lyon?"
"Fine," Lyon answered curtly. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"
From under the table, Gray reached out for Juvia's hand, placing it in one of his and nearly laughed out loud as the water mage beside him nearly melted in surprise. Her fingers curled immediately in response, and she was biting back a squeal as he held her hand firmly.
"Nothing's wrong," Gray said, smirking. "Absolutely nothing."
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Because a Jealous Gray is a Possessive Gray. Read and review!