Number 47 with Jellal x Cobra?? (Need those domestic fluff feels)
47. “I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks.”
I had a lot of fun writing this one! I really need to write more Jerik.
Erik was officially done with Jellal’s moping. First he’d chalked it up to the hellish cold that had ripped through their house. The fact that they actually had a house in the first place still baffled him, nearly as much as the entirety of Crime Sorciere living there and not murdering one another on a daily basis.
But Jellal’s cold was long gone. Sorano and Meredy had gotten everyone out, with their reasoning being that they needed to get some fresh air. Jellal had refused for reasons he refused to divulge. Erik said there was cleaning that needed to be done. At the mention of the C-word, they’d all disappeared. It wasn’t like he cared all that much anyway. Everyone else fucking sucked at cleaning.
Erik walked through the house and pushed the door to Jellal’s room open, glaring at the mound of blankets on his bed.
The mopey little blueberry muffin was curled up in blankets that he’d stolen from Macbeth’s room - a wise choice, since Macbeth was a master at choosing blankets. And Erik was more than fucking done with that. It was nonsense. Utter bullshit, even. Shoving twenty-seven cactus spines in his goddamn urethra just for shits and giggles made more sense than that woe-is-me bullshit happening with Jellal.
And Erik was absolutely against sounding with cactus spines.
He stalked forward and pulled every bit of fuzzy fabric from around Jellal, then dragged him out of the bed. “Come with me,” Erik spat.
“Erik, just leave me alone…”
“No fucking way. If I have to listen to you like this for much longer, I will go insane.”
Jellal huffed and pushed Erik’s hands away, toppling back onto the bed. He glared up at Erik and bunched up one blanket to wrap his arms around it. “You’re already insane.”
“True,” Erik chuckled. “But I’ve been relatively good as of late. Let’s keep that up.”
“What do you want?”
“I waxed the floors,” Erik said. “So grab your fluffy socks.”
Jellal blinked slowly, and Erik really had to make an effort not to laugh at the utterly perplexed knit to his brows. “You… huh?”
Gently, with much more tenderness than he let anyone see, Erik reached forward and took Jellal’s hands in his. He pulled Jellal up and pressed their chests together, laced their fingers, and looked right into his eyes. “Fluffy socks, waxed floor,” he whispered, smirking. “Time to get out of this funk.”
“It’s not a funk.”
Erik chuckled and pulled Jellal along with him. Thankfully, the asshole stopped fighting him. He paused once they were at the living room and moved to stand behind Jellal with his arms wrapped around that thin, familiar waist. Erik’s tongue snaked out and gently teased his earlobe. “Put on the socks and race me to the kitchen.”
“Because while you were moping about not getting any fucking Thin Mints, I sent out a couple feelers and found a crate of them.”
“You used black market contacts for Girl Scout cookies?” Jellal chuckled. “Erik…”
“Don’t pretend you’re disappointed.” He sighed when Jellal’s head turned and their lips met for a brief moment. “And you’re welcome. Now… first one to the crate wins.”
“What’s the prize?”
Erik grinned and felt Jellal shiver. “Whatever you want.” He’d never seen someone’s eyes flash with so much excitement. And he’d never seen Jellal move as quickly as he did to pull on one pair of fuzzy socks that Erik had left on the floor for both of them.
His ridiculous boyfriend was such a slut for Thin Mints. Then again, Erik was too. He just wasn’t going to tell Jellal that he used his connections with Fiore’s seedy underbelly every time those little girls went around selling their cookies. That was his own little secret.
This is too easy. I thought as I snaked my hand out of my victim’s purse, stealing a good 20.00 dollars from the girl. She was a rather well endowed woman with long, blonde hair. A real beauty.
“Well, I’ll see you ‘round, Lucy! Bye!” I waved, pocketing the money with my other hand.
“Goodbye, Sting!” She waved back, a bright grin on her face. I really do hate stealing from such a kind woman, but it’s better then returning with nothing. Erik would kill me.
Man, this could buy us at least another weeks’ worth of food! Now, how am I gonna find money for supplies? I thought to myself, remembering how we were running low on things like bandages and matches.
“Hey, kid!” Shit. I froze in my tracks, turning around to reveal Lahar, the neighborhood stick-in-the-mud. Oh, sorry, I mean ‘patrol officer.’
“Yes, officer?” I asked, smiling.
He scowled. “Don’t play innocent. I just saw you stealing money from that woman! You’re under-”
I didn’t take time to listen to his speech. I just bolted down the street, snickering. There’s no way he would be able to catch me in those weird dress shoes he always wore. Why does he even wear them? They look like torture devices, for fuck’s sake!
There’s the turnoff! I thought, making a sharp right. I could practically hear the shoes squeaking as he came to a sudden halt. No one, and I mean no one, stepped foot into our alleyway. Not even the police.
Crime Sorciére being gay, with a side of Jellal’s abandonment issues. Well… all his issues. And that’s a long list. Oh, and I managed to mention fruit again. To be clear: I don’t know what I’m doing. Enjoy.