Green-Eyed Monster

One sunny afternoon found Shira in the student council room, trying to help Issei with fixing the art club's small stove, which had, after the last few weeks of declining in efficiency, finally decided to stop working. Really, it'd be much simpler to buy a brand new stove, but Shira had always been one to at least attempt to repair old appliances rather than throw them away.

Besides, Issei was a friend who'd asked for her help, so how could she say no? And in any case, it felt very...well, normal to be fixing up school equipment. It was like Shira was returning to a part of her life—a relatively ordinary part of her life—from before the Holy Grail War, before she'd ended up becoming a Master, before she'd met and fallen in love with Saber.

Not that I'd trade Saber for this, Shira thought as she stood up from her handiwork to address Issei, who was standing off to the side, leaning against the table. "Well, I've done what I can. If the stove still doesn't work, the art club might as well pitch it."

"At least you tried," the student council president told her, adjusting his glasses as he straightened his posture. "That's more than I'd expect most girls to do."

Frowning, Shira opened her mouth to comment, but Issei went on, his expression becoming thoughtful. "That's probably why we get along so well—you're not especially feminine."

That's because you've never seen me try to be feminine. The redhead took a few seconds to reflect on how she tried to put at least some effort in making herself look nice whenever she and Saber (who always insisted she was lovely regardless of what she wore) went out on a date before she spoke. "I don't know if that's supposed to be a compliment or not."

"It was meant as a compliment," Issei said simply. "I don't mean to say you're not pretty, but you don't flaunt it to get attention. I think that's a good thing; it means you're staying true to yourself."

"Yes, Mr. Ryudou, I agree wholeheartedly," a familiar voice, polite but cold, broke in. "But I believe it's time for Shira and me to leave, provided you have no more need of her assistance."

Shira and Issei turned to see Saber standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed, his mouth set in a dark scowl, and his eyes narrowed icily as his attention was solely focused on the bespectacled, indigo-haired boy, looking very much like a king (or maybe a prince to people unaware of how old he really was) who was itching to have someone executed.

"Oh, Pendragon," Issei greeted, calling Saber by his surname instead of what was believed to be his middle name by the general public. To his credit, Issei didn't appear at all afraid of the blond's chilliness towards him, only confused, if the slight raising of his eyebrows was any indication. "How long have you been standing there?"

Whatever Saber would have said remained a mystery, as Shira chose that moment to speak. "You didn't have to wait up for me. I told you earlier that repairs could take a while."

"I know," Saber replied, his frosty disposition lessening significantly as his gaze switched to her, "but I would rather we go home together."

"Uh-huh." Shira nodded slowly, though her tone showed that she didn't quite believe him. "Well, just let me put my toolbox back in my locker and then we'll go."

She quickly put her tools into her toolbox and gave her friend a smile. "Well, see you tomorrow, Issei."

But Issei, who was still eyeing Saber confusedly, even a bit nervously, didn't seem to have heard her. "Emiya, Pendragon looks like he wants to murder me. Was it something I said?"

Shira spared a glance at Saber to see that he had resumed poisonously glaring in Issei's direction. "No, you're fine," she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "My boyfriend's just being an idiot."

"Shira!" Saber protested.

"Come on, let's go." The redhead walked up to Saber, her toolbox in hand, and it wasn't long before the couple left the student council room, Saber placing a hand on the small of Shira's back as they went.

Several minutes later, in the deserted locker room, Shira had barely closed her locker's door when Saber wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her towards him and burying his face into her throat.

She gave a start of surprise. "Wow; someone's clingy right now."

"That boy was trying to woo you," Saber growled into the crook of her neck, his breath tickling her skin. "Surely you noticed?"

A snort escaped Shira's nose. "If this were anyone else, you'd probably have a point, but this is Issei we're talking about. Does the phrase 'monk-in-training' mean anything to you?"

"He complimented you on your beauty," Saber insisted.

Shira untangled herself from his grasp and turned around to face him, her hands on his shoulders. "He said I wasn't 'not pretty,'" she said in exasperation. "Yes, it was a compliment, but it's not exactly the best one I've ever gotten. And it's not like Issei meant it romantically in the first place, so I don't understand why you're being a total Neanderthal about this."

The anger in Saber's expression melted away into bewilderment. "Neanderthal?" he parroted.

But Shira continued as if he hadn't said anything. "You know, you acted the same way that day Issei came by the house during the Grail War, and the worst he did that time was check up on me. What's so offensive about—wait a minute," she cut herself off mid-tirade as a thought suddenly occurred to her. She let go of his shoulders and took a step back to stare at him, her eyes widening. "Saber, you're not...you're not jealous, are you?"

The blond opened his mouth, presumably to deny it, then seemed to think better of it. After a brief silence, he at last answered flatly, "And if I am?"

That was all the confirmation Shira needed, and the very idea that Saber—the legendary King Arthur, one of the greatest of knights, and a former Servant to boot—was honest to goodness jealous of Issei, the guy who just didn't do the whole romance thing, was so crazy, so ridiculous, that she couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"How is this amusing?" Saber demanded over Shira's laughter.

"I'm sorry," she said in between giggles, wiping away tears of mirth. "It's just...of all the guys you could be jealous of, it's the one who's the least of a threat!" Shira imagined Issei's flabbergasted expression if he ever found out that he'd unwittingly made it on Saber's hit list, and the image made her laugh all the more.

All the blond could do at the moment was shake his head in disbelief.

"Seriously, though," Shira went on, sobering after her laughter had subsided and stepping forward to put a hand on Saber's arm, "Issei's never liked me like that, and I certainly never liked him in that way. You know you have nothing to be jealous about, right?"

Saber sighed, placing his own hand over hers. "I never claimed my envy was rational, but...I suppose I merely can't bear the thought of someone taking you away from me, as selfish as it sounds."

"And you think I don't get mad when some girl thinks she can hit on you?" Shira asked rhetorically. "If jealousy means you're selfish, then I'm no better. But, hey," she added brightly, "who knows? You and Issei might end up becoming friends. That's more than I can say about me and any of your fangirls."

"Somehow, I cannot see myself befriending Issei any time soon," Saber informed her, pursing his lips at the thought.

Shira just grinned. "You never know, Saber. You never know."