a sort of drabble that I accidentally turned into a new au.
The slamming of the front door only proves to boost my anger.
Oh, how creative. I can honestly say I was expecting a bit more.
“Oh, just shut up!” I retorted, sinking to his level and spitting out simple minded phrases.
“I just don’t fucking understand you! In what universe is this ok?” He yelled, fistfuls of his midnight hair poking out in between his knuckles.
“It’s your fault, if anyone!” I blamed, a stupid decision, really. If Gray liked anything, which was extremely controversial, it was arguing. And maybe cuddling, but he’d never let me see the light of day if anyone but me knew that.
“My fault?! You know I don’t like goddamn PDA!!” He snarled, throwing a bunch of papers off of the kitchen island pointlessly, mostly just for theatrics I could only assume.
“Well I wasn’t the one who asked Lyon to kiss me!” I shot back.
It was a ridiculous topic, in all honesty.
Gray was the one who had dragged me to the baseball game in the first place, for the sole reason that it was ‘America’s game’ and he was determined to catch a baseball even though he probably couldn’t catch a dodgeball if the situation presented itself.
I was very well aware of what a kiss cam was. I was also very well aware that Gray strongly dislikes PDA, and although sometimes it’s nearly impossible to resist from squishing his cute little baby cheeks in public, I respect his feelings and try to keep any affections I harbor on the down-lo.
But we both have a lack of luck that has dragged us through the sewers, which explains why we were targeted by the stupid camera.
He was so cute when his face completely combusted with embarrassment and he covered his face with his stupid baseball glove and I was laughing hysterically.
Apparently, the camera man didn’t find it nearly half as amusing as I thought it was, so he shifted the camera one seat to the left, to Lyon, Gray’s best friend, who was more than happy to comply to the rules of baseball, handed down from generation to generation.
Thou shalt obey the kiss cam. Or something like that.
The millisecond that camera transitioned away to some other sucker couple, Gray completely lost his shit at Lyon.
It was actually hilarious, but alas I had shut my phone off and it takes about three moon cycles for it to officially turn back on.
Lyon seemed generally pleased with himself afterwards, truly the only thing that pissed me off about the whole ordeal. Kissing me does not make him some sort of hero. It makes me the hero, if anyone.
Just kidding. Seriously, Lyon is one of the finest guys I know. Just a little obsessive is all.
And by a little, I mean hella because he actually wrote me a song, sometimes on April Fools day I’ll hide it under Gray’s pillow and then when he finds it all you can hear is a scream of frustration and the tearing of paper into itty-bitty pieces, and he assumes that the serenade entitled Dear Juvia is forgotten forever, but the jokes on him because I have at least thirty photocopies hidden in my dresser.
So Gray gets jealous easily. At least I wasn’t the kind of person who’d take advantage of that.
“It doesn’t matter,” Gray fumed, storming out of the kitchen and into our bedroom to stew.
“You’re completely right, it doesn’t,” I sang back, purposely prodding at him because he was cute when he was angry.
Sure enough, his head popped up from behind the kitchen doorframe, pulled into a sneer. “Of course it matters! Lyon fuckin’ kissed you! He’s an idiot! And you let him!”
I furrowed my eyebrows together. It was at that point when I sort of realized the gravity of the situation, that Gray was actually pissed, not ‘pissed’ with a hilarious emoji next to it, but flat out I’m-gonna-eat-a-tub-of-Ben-and-Jerry’s pissed.
“Gray, just relax, it didn’t mean anything,” I soothed, knowing that if I let the fight get out of hand we were both going to bed angry tonight.
“Yeah, well…” He stepped back into the kitchen, digging his shoulder blades into the cabinet and sighing harshly. “It meant something to Lyon, didn’t it?”
“Maybe,” I admitted, because lying got you absolutely nowhere with Gray. He huffed, as if saying ‘that’s what I thought’ and kicked his head back against the cabinet, a hollow thunk sound resonating from it.
“You know he technically liked you first though…” he said, implying that he felt slightly insecure about where our relationship was. What an idiot. If I really wanted Lyon over him, I would’ve dumped his ass into a trash compactor years ago.
“And I technically went to jail once. Are we really going to harbor on these minor details forever?” I reminded, something he usually got a kick out of whenever it was brought up. Unfortunately I saw no signs of him becoming cheery at the mention of my slight criminal record.
He shook his head, almost sadly, and looked up to avoid meeting my eyes.
“Gray,” I said sternly, insisting that he look at me. He was such a big baby sometimes.
His hard, dark eyes finally found mine from across the kitchen, telling me a thousand things that I already knew.
He instantly turned away, no doubt bright red and embarrassed. I really just want to kiss the life out of that adorable bastard.
“…you too.” He finally coughed out.
“Come hug me.” I demanded, opening and closing my palms like a hungry infant.
He sighed, like this was one of the most abhorrent tasks he’d ever been enlisted, and trudged over to me. I was still sitting on the kitchen table, so it didn’t take long for him to arrive home.
“I’m still mad at you you know,” he informed as his arms encircled my waist slowly, and I opened my knees to let his body rest in between them.
“No you’re not,” I sang back, resting my chin on his shoulder and throwing my arms around his shoulder blades.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He said quickly, pressing a kiss to the side of my hair. Cutie.
“Whatever you say.” I said dreamily.
After about a minute of hugging, Gray spoke again, which was surprising because this was the most he’d spoken straight since that time Gajeel tricked him into drinking a redbull.
“Say something for me,” he asked, well, more told, as he slightly pulled out of the hug, effectively draining away the warmth he had previously given me.
“Ok.” I agreed, but only because I wanted to hug him some more.
“Say, Lyon is a giant asshole, Gray is sexy as hell.”
“It’ll make me feel better.”
“On the inside, yes.” He admitted, but still looked at me expectantly.
I sighed, not believing that I was actually saying this.
“Lyon is a giant asshole, Gray is sexy as hell.”
A small smile bit at his cheeks, and his eyes bore into mine, like he wanted something more.
Those were his sexy eyes.
I bit my lip to prevent from smiling and leaned my forehead against his chest.
“Carry me?” I requested quietly.
“Oh yeah,” he said, arms already securing me as he lifted me, bridal style, from the kitchen table.
And with that, I decided that maybe I liked arguing just as much as he did.
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