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Hope you enjoy!
She had gone out in the afternoon, bringing him the books he had been asking for. Books about how to do things around the house – perfect to keep him where he was. He obediently sat on the bed, reading them. Her eyes on him.
Erza could not imagine what would have happened should they have continued to fight. (Had they stopped?) It had not been a real fight, she tried to convince herself. They had just been… arguing with different opinions. Frowning to herself, she had to admit that that was the exact definition of a fight. But couples quarrelled from time to time, right? Perhaps, she told herself, they were doing everything just right. They could be normal; they could learn to be.
She had stared at nothing in particular, hogging the blanket, vision blurring around the image of his face. He kept reading. She pouted. Wordlessly, Erza crawled forward until she could replace the pillow beneath her head with his stomach. He winced and she realised it could have been due to her hurting his wounds.
"Sorry…" she stuttered, pulling away again, face flushing. She turned around to hide it. Curling up even more, she stuffed herself into the blanket she was clutching. When had they lost their closeness? Why had they lost their closeness? It was the best thing she had gained apart from the security of him being there in the first place. Of him finally being hers.
She froze when a tentative hand touched her side. She swallowed, waiting, hoping he would take it as permission. She waited for what seemed like forever. Then his hand moved. Gingerly, light enough to be ticklish instead of gentle, Jellal traced his palm down her back. When it lifted, she assumed for a moment that that would be it, but it returned after some hesitation, repeating the action, stroking her back.
Erza gave a long sigh. She relaxed, her muscles sinking into the mattress. Only weeks ago, she would have given everything to be where she was now. Close to him, receiving the long-awaited affection, and with an excuse to stay in bed all day. With him.
But she was restless now. And he was still broken. She had seen it in his eyes – the doubt, the self-hatred, the hectic flashing of his eyes along the pages when realising her to notice his spacing out. There had to be something she could do to help him. To help him more quickly than waiting for another few years until the meaning of 'amnesty' sank in.
Erza turned around, scooting up to sit next to him. His hand retracted, making her stomach drop, discouraged. She shook it off.
"Are you finding anything useful?" She asked, taking her ankles to pull them closer. Her knees touched his side but he did not show any sign of reaction. He was not even blinking.
"A few things," he confirmed vaguely.
"I want to help," she said, nudging her knees against his thighs again. He budged this time, lifting them slightly, giving her room to advance. She knew he was unsure about her helping in the house, but she was not aiming for that – she would probably destroy more than she could fix.
Erza leant in, pecking his cheek. He blushed, still transfixed on his book.
"Anything," she tried again. She had to keep trying. He retracted his lips, swallowing before he spoke.
"Then maybe …" he looked upwards, as far from her as he could, "that… again…" his fingers were going white from gripping too hard. She blinked in puzzlement, tilting her head at him, not understanding. She glanced from the pages of small writing up to his face, exhaling shortly when the penny dropped.
Yes! She cheered inwardly, her heart swelling happily.
"Gladly," she smiled, pecking his cheek again. "Anything at all…" she kissed it again, then the corner of his mouth. She trailed along his jaw, a shiver shaking her when he failed to suppress a small moan. She glowed with joy. Leaning on him, Erza let her lips travel down his neck, finding a soft spot on his jugular. His hands twitched. The book fell into his lap.
He took her by her shoulders and she rose to meet his eyes – half-closed and insecure. She would wipe that out of them. She kissed his lips, moving her mouth, being met with a response that lured a moan out from deep within her throat. She pulled away when their tongues had started dancing, panting.
"I…" she breathed against this face. She was trembling above him, not daring to drop her weight onto his injuries. But she wanted to. She knew she would not be able to stop should they continue. And she wanted that, too. She felt that she would literally do anything, if only it gave him back the confidence that had carried them on wings for the past weeks.
"I have to go out… I'll hurry," she promised, reluctantly sitting back up. He nodded, watching her leave, giving her lingering fears with his silence. Would he understand that behaviour in the wrong way? She could not go back, though. She had just found a solution for their problem and even though it was a risk, she hoped it would be worth it.
That she would finally dare…
Jellal read the same sentence for perhaps the tenth time. He could not focus.
She had not broken up. She had not given up on him and she had not stayed mad at him. He should have been happy. She had even kissed him – his stomach lurched fuzzily, even now. She had…
She was sending him so many messages, mixed and confusing; a new one before he had been able to decode the last, one angry, one forgiving, then switching back, ignoring him, talking to him, kissing him. He wanted to do everything just right, but he did not know what he was allowed – and what would doom him if he did not do it.
And then she left.
That had sent perhaps the worst message of them all and the most unclear – if he gave it the benefit of the doubt.
He glared at his book. Why was there no guide to being in a relationship? A 'how to handle Titania'.
He would like one of those on himself, as well.
Sighing deeply, Jellal let the book sink, then himself, sliding onto his back. It was a failed experiment – they were. He would have left, he thought. He should have. Just set everything back to zero, for real this time, giving her back her freedom and sanity. He could have left her the house, disappeared into a life of running and hiding and surviving on scraps. He was used to it. She had enough people to comfort her and help her forget.
And then she had kissed him. And it had thrown everything right back out the window.
Whatever dark deep he plummeted himself down, she fished him right back up. Forcing him into another corner – forcing her own belief onto him. Not for the first time, Jellal pondered what might have happened should he have let her kiss him back then on that infamous night on the beach. Because ever since she had crossed that line, every decision was hers.
When she wanted him to do something, he did. When she was angry and ignored him, he let himself be ignored. When she put her back against him to demand attention, he obliged. When she kissed him, they kissed.
There was no question – her decision was his. It would be the outcome and it was always final. And he was fine with that. He had brought her enough sorrow; he would do whatever she wanted.
And then she went and told him not to.
Then how?
He was lost without her guidance, but at the same time, it posed such enigmas before him, it racked his brain. He probably was insomniac by now.
His eyes opened when the front door did. He listened closely, frowning when there were more steps than those of a single pair of feet.
"It's… very light," a high, female voice said. He recognised it.
"It's not done yet," Erza explained. The door of the bedroom opened and he sat up, being met with two pairs of brown eyes.
"Jellal," Wendy bowed her head. She had been prepared for what to expect. He returned the greeting. He knew where this was going. "Erza asked me to heal you," she said and he nodded, getting out of bed to properly welcome her.
"Good thing one of us was informed," he said, throwing a glance over her head to the person in question. Erza blinked at the window, innocently clasping her hands behind her back. Wendy giggled.
"Could I see them?" She asked politely. He gave a hum of agreement. As he sat back down – patting the bed to invite their guest to follow suit – he unbuttoned his shirt. Erza left the room, wandering down the hall to the kitchen. He focused on freeing his torso of bandages, revealing the crusts across his abdomen, his back and down his shoulder. It felt good to give them some air.
Wendy gave examining glances, then stretched out her hands which started to glow.
"I'm sorry you had to be dragged all the way here," he said while she magicked the first gash closed. It was incredible to watch his skin mend itself at such a rate, as if moulding around the wound, replacing the raw, reddened scars.
"It's no trouble," she said with a smile in her voice. She was completely relaxed and he felt it affect him, too. His shoulders sank and he allowed a sigh as his flesh recovered nearly effortlessly. "I'm always glad to be of help, especially when I can give and not only take," she looked up at him, smiling.
He hid a frown. Had Erza told her to say that?
"I was really scared when Acnologia attacked us in the ship – and when you went out there," she kept on rambling, moving her hands up to seal off the wound on his shoulder. "I don't think I've ever thanked you properly for saving us; I can't imagine what would have happened if you wouldn't have been there."
"Anyone could have done that," he glanced away, out the window. The sun was shining outside, almost as bright as the young Dragon Slayer herself. She shook her head.
"I don't think anyone from Blue Pegasus could have – not even Ichiya,"
"You could have," he dared to meet her eyes, giving a warm smile. Somehow, it felt easy to talk to her. Light. And maybe it was just another effect of her magic, but he was unbothered for a moment.
"I was kinda out of commission there," she grinned sheepishly and he remembered her motion sickness. Erza returned with a cup of tea, quietly seating herself at the end of the bed. Wendy hopped over to be able to treat his back, soon finished. She received her beverage, crossing her legs on the bed. He thanked her, inspecting his mended skin in awe before fetching back his shirt.
"I think I'll have to go to the shops for dinner; the only things we could make are omelettes," Erza informed.
"Oh, do you have flour?" Wendy asked. She was still smiling, not a hint of reproach or suspicion or awkwardness about being in their bedroom to be seen. Their house, to begin with. That message was loud and clear and he started to believe it. There was nothing awkward about living together. It was… it was nice. More than, if he was being honest.
"I think so," Erza tapped her chin with one finger.
"We could make pancakes! Oh, I mean, you, hehe," Wendy grinned, earning herself a smile. "I don't think I've really cooked since I left Caitshelter," she continued, so at ease that it even calmed the still edgy couple down.
"Can you still make them?" Jellal asked, turning to her.
"I don't think I could forget," Wendy smiled above her cup, "I can show you, if you like," she offered. He exchanged a glance with Erza for the split of a second. He could not read hers exactly, but he was positive that she was sick of his plain rice. And he was definitely in for everything that did not involve her cooking.
They almost overran the young Dragon Slayer with consent and she laughed at that.
"Thank you for getting me home," Wendy said as they walked along the channel. It was already getting dark, the setting sun throwing long shadows across the cobblestone.
"Thank you for healing Jellal," Erza returned, smiling.
They had watched with big eyes as the Sky Maiden had flipped pancakes without even using a spatula. It had not shown how she had not practised during the last few years – she could flick her wrist to send the food flying, catching it without breaking a sweat. Everything had been fluffy and golden brown and magicked smiled onto all of their faces.
They had felt whole for the first time in days.
"I heard you were attacked on your last mission," Wendy glanced up, concerned, "do you think it was because of that poster?"
"I wouldn't know," Erza's gaze went up to the sky, the pale moon already having risen, "but they were hardly a problem. That reminds me," she met her guild mate's eyes, "are you still staying over with the others? Fairy Hills is safe, but it would be better if you didn't go alone on missions – I'd feel better," she gave a warm, almost motherly smile and Wendy returned it.
"I leave my door open at night for the others to hear – we all do," she said, easing her friend's mind. "You know, Erza, I was worried about you before, but now that I know you're not alone, it's fine." She giggled at Erza's blush. The Queen of the Fairies only gave a vaguely agreeing hum in response.
They parted ways at the foot of the barrow of Fairy Hills. Erza did not want to cross roads with Charle; she was relieved that the overprotective Exceed had not come along. Most importantly now, she wanted to get home.
On second thought, she turned one more time, sneaking into her apartment to take something back with her.