Dragon Family Values
Disclaimer – I do not own Fairy Tail
Summary: Rogue doesn't care for the rain.
Author's Note #1 – I'm using the 100 Theme Fanfiction Challenge for this collection. I thought it'd be something different.
Author's Note #2 – This one I am rating T.
Author's Note #3 – These drabbles are pretty much one-shots and are not related to each other in any way unless otherwise indicated.
Under the Rain (Rated T)
Rogue didn't like the rain. He never said it outright, but Sting was around him enough to know the truth.
How Rogue would hesitate to get out of bed when he heard the raindrops hitting the window or the roof. How he bundled up more before he left the house. How Rogue would strip off his sopping wet clothes when he got home and change back into his pajamas. And how he would sit on the couch, dig his cold toes under Sting's soft thigh, and curl up in a blanket, staring at the crackling fire that was always burning in the winter.
Rogue's work with Sabertooth usually picked up in November and December, so he didn't have time to mope around. But once December was over, once holidays were done and gifts had been received, once work had slowed down and the new year started, Rogue seemed to grow smaller, hunch over a little, fade.
He avoided looking out the window, and if he did find himself seeing the rain, his hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white, and his nails left bloody little crescents in his palms.
Sting never asked him about it. He knew that Rogue would never answer even if he tried. That didn't mean that he couldn't try asking Frosch, though.
"Fro thinks it's because that's when Skiadrum died," Frosch answered after he'd hesitantly asked. "Skiadrum was really sick. It was dark and wet, and he asked Rogue to assist him to die. At least that what Rogue said. So that's why Rogue is always down when the rain comes. At least, that's what Fro thinks."
Sting frowned. "Why wouldn't he tell me that himself?"
"Fro doesn't know," Frosch whined.
The dragon-slayer sighed. "It's far too much a burden to bear all on his own."
Frosch seemed to hum in agreement.
Sting ushered Rogue into bed as soon as he was in his pajamas. "Sting."
"What?" The white dragon-slayer didn't pause in his shoving. That would be like showing weakness, and Rogue was very good at exploiting them.
"It's literally half past seven. We just ate dinner."
Sting huffed. "Are you saying you need to sit and digest first?"
Rogue let out a grunt as he was shoved onto the bed. "Sting, it's only half past seven. I wanted to finish up some paperwork for the guild—what are you doing?!" he exclaimed as Sting began tucking him under the covers.
"Maybe you'd find out if you'd shut up," was Sting's only response before he scampered around to his side of the bed.
Rogue thought about escaping before Sting could cuddle up to him, but it was cold out, gray, and dark, and he was very, very tired. "I was going to finish that paperwork."
"You were going to stare at the fire like the moody bastard you are," Sting huffed, wrapping his arms around him. "Like you have the past few weeks."
"I'm not moody." He already knew his argument was weak because he had been staring at the fire, and he was rather tense with everyone lately.
"So I'm going to cuddle the hell out of you, and we're not going to talk about your feelings."
Rogue frowned at the ceiling even as Sting wrapped his legs around his own. "Because you talk to Frosch about my feelings."
"Someone has to talk about your feelings, even if you won't." Sting smiled and tucked his hands into the pockets of the shadow dragon-slayer's pajama pants. "So we're going to cuddle and lounge around all night."
Rogue grit his teeth before grudgingly muttering, "Thank you." He listened to the rain pattering on the windows, and then he turned and buried his face in Sting's chest. "Really. Thank you."
Sting grinned and didn't say anything because the last thing he wanted was to ruin the mood.
Author's Note – Cute? Please review!
*Next Theme – Flowers*