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kiliinstinct · 9 months

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Snowflakes on Shadows - Stingue Secret Santa Gift

[A03]

A late Secret Santa gift for @ostensiblyfunctional for @theguildawards Server Secret Santa! I'm sorry this is so late, like I said on the A03, my internet dying really threw me off. This is my First Stingue, but I hope you enjoy it!

Sting was late.

Again.

This wasn't the largest of surprises. Rogue wasn't too startled by the fact his shared quarters remained still and quiet into the night. In fact, he relished in his time alone while Frosch played with Lector. However, he couldn't ignore it when both Exceed's returned from the chilly outdoors, eyes swollen from exhaustion, as they crawled into their respective beds. It was late.

Far too late.

Rogue set aside the book he was reading and tucked Frosch into his bed with a click of his tongue, urging his small friend to sleep. His brows were knitted when he turned to the other, sitting forlornly across the hall on an empty mattress, head bobbing as he struggled to stay awake.

”Where’s Sting?” He asked, dreading the answer.

“Not here.” Lector snipped, his fur bristling. Usually, he would be the first to sing praises of the Sabertooth Master, but today, distaste and disappointment darkened his expression, “Again. He said he'd come home tonight…“

”Do you want to go get him?“ Rogue asked, thinking back towards the already fast asleep, frog-loving exceed back in his room. Frosch could sleep the whole night through and not notice they were left alone for a short time.

As if reading his thoughts, Lector shook his head, ”Nah, that might scare Frosch and it's my job to look out for them, y'know? But uh-“ and he wrangled his little paws together, voice rising with the plea, ”You could get him?“

In the end, despite the silence that fell between them, the Shadowslayer already knew what his answer would be as he nodded and walked briskly to the main room. Lector would keep an eye out on Frosch and once Sting was home, the mood would be far less somber. Or so he hoped.

Though he eyed the book he'd left behind mournfully, already half way through it. There'd be less time to enjoy the silence once Sting was home. Shrugging, he grabbed his boots and listened to the wind howl outside the window. The glass panes were rattling and he could practically taste the chill in the air. By the time he left for the Guild, it would be snowing.

Grabbing his coat for good measure, and an extra one with a scarf for Sting, he steeled himself for the cold night air and left their apartment behind.

Honestly, he should have done this hours ago, but the recent Guild Master's meet-up left him socially exhausted. In the past, they would meet together on neutral ground not run by any one master in Clover, but a new initiative for 'better guild unity' flipped the whole thing on its head. Now the Guildmasters drew lots and the so-called winners would be the next host. He recalled the day Sting had drawn the winning lot, smiling as he boasted their meeting would be the best experience in the home of Sabertooth.

A sense of dread hit him that very night, but Rogue kept his doubts to himself. Being the youngest Guild Master spurred the White Dragonslayer to prove himself, leaving no detail out of his plans for a Grand Meeting; demanding Rogue and the others work together to decorate, the Shadowslayer had bit back his words of disdain at every turn. Something hadn't set right with him about it, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Until recently. Five days after the meeting and he felt as if his own brain had oozed out from his ears and Sting... turning his attention to the fresh flurries beginning to cross his view, Rogue pushed the thoughts from his mind. He'd deal with his partner when he got there and not a moment sooner.

Gazania was gorgeous in winter, even with the chill and towering mountains that shadowed the city. His trek to the Guild was met with peaceful silence as the denizens of the City were locking their shutters and doors for the night, well-prepared for the coming cold. It filled Rogue with a homely comfort.

Unfortunately that comfort dropped the instant he stepped into the Guild. New friendships forged and new strength was found amidst his fellow guild members, but a strange, tense air overwhelmed the hall as he entered. Either due to the silence of stragglers sleepily sitting at their tables or the hollow emptiness of the room so late at night, he couldn't be sure, but he mourned the loss of the crisp air and snow that had begun to cling to his thick hair and lashes.

But he could only step so far into the hall before a few of his comrades perked up, eyeing him with forlorn expressions misted over by ale and frustration.

“Where have you been?” Dobengal asked through a tired yawn, “everyone's tried to drag Sting out of the office and nothing worked. Even Yukino's given up.”

A nudge of his head signaled Rogue to peer towards the nearby bar, where Sabertooth’s resident Celestial Mage dozed across the counter, fingers lightly grasping what looked to be a plate of cookies. Recognizing the white confections instantly, he raised a brow.

“...he wouldn't come down for the Float cookies?” He rhetorically asked.

The echoing groans of assent from those remaining followed his steps as he moved along, draping Yukino's coat over her shoulders to keep her warm as he passed. At the same time, he grabbed the plate of cookies and continued up, considering his options as he went.

Reflexively, he stopped from nibbling on one of the cookies, not wanting to deal with a loss of gravity as he headed for his goal. The further up he went, the more muted the great hall became and the more he could hear tired yawns and snarls of aggravation down the hall. Sting’s snarls.

With the sounds came the scent of his partner and Rogue sighed, already feeling a headache bubbling behind his eyes. This would go one of two ways and he quietly hoped the easier path would come out on top. Willing himself to meld in with the shadows of the hall, he whisked himself towards the door, sliding beneath it with nary a sound. It was easier that way, and gave him a better chance to assess Sting's mood before attempting conversation.

He didn’t regret the decision upon merging with the shadows on the floor, following stacks of paperwork and law books that sent his head spinning when he'd attempted perusing them months ago. Sting must have attempted reading through Guild and Counsel law for days if the multitude of open books littering the floor covered in dog-eared pages were the judge.

The rumpled pages of unfinished documents and rewritten proposals, thank you letters and the like, were another hint to the pressure Sting was under. He sat hunched over his desk, furiously scrawling words to paper that could barely be seen as the ink had long gone dry, he was simply too tired to notice until the paper tore from the sharp jabs of the pen. With a frustrated snarl, he tossed the document aside and rubbed his temples, eyes lacking their usual energy as he grimly looked at his covered desk.

The young Guild Master was exhausted. Rogue saw it in the grit of his jaw, the fluctuating, weakened magic that hummed under his skin, at the way his hair drooped from dragging his fingers through the blond locks far too many times. But the stubborn set of his brows spoke of a man refusing to give in despite his body's need to rest as he robotically reached for another paper to begin his writing anew.

Rogue didn't give him the chance.

He struck as fast as his namesake, hand emerging from the shadows on Sting's Desk to grasp Sting's wrist tightly while the rest of his torso followed. Shadows kept him immersed in the hardwood while his red eyes glared into the blue of Sting's, expression neutral as he stared the other down.

Sting, despite the exhaustion, was quick to react, body jolting as he stood up, knocking his chair over in the process while a yelp echoed off the walls, “Holy shit, Rogue, what the hell do you think you're doing scaring me like that?!”

“The better question," Rogue said, grip tightening to steel as he set the extra coat and cookies aside before pushing the unused parchment out of Sting's reach, “Is why didn't you sense me?”

“Tch,” Sting twitched at the accusation, baring his fangs in distaste, “Asks the guy hiding in the shadows like a-”

Rogue tugged his hand, “Are you admitting I'm better than you at something?”

“What? Don't twist my words like that, you know I'm not that-”

“Exactly,” He wasn't going to let Sting get a word in if he was to get his point across, “We're partners for a reason and you are off your game. That's a problem.”

He grabbed the cookies then, brandishing the plate beneath Sting's nose.

“Yukino is still downstairs,” He said, then added, ”Sleeping now, but these were clearly made for you to relax. Did you know?“

Crossing his eyes to look at the plate before him, Sting had the grace to look guilty, ”...I ah... didn't unlock the door when she knocked.“

“You ignored her.”

He balked at the accusation, ”No! I knew she knocked, I just asked her to leave me alone so I could finish, that's all.“

When Rogue's only reply was to tighten his hold to almost bruising levels, Sting hissed in anger and yanked his arm back, almost spilling the cookies in the process.

”What's it to you anyway?“ He griped, rubbing his aching flesh, ”shouldn't you be at home, relaxing with a book?“

Rogue rolled his eyes so hard he felt they might get stuck in his skull, “Lector is upset.”

He didn't have to say anything further, watching as Sting deflated, head bowing to hide his expression behind his bangs. Cursing under his breath, he looked at the tossed aside letters and grimaced, ”shit, he begged me to come home tonight too.“

”And you haven't because...?” Rogue drawled, setting the cookies down to fully re-emerge from the shadows, effectively seating himself on the desk before the guilt-ridden Guild Master.

When Sting refused to answer, teeth gritting so tight Rogue could hear the grinding of his jaw, the Shadowslayer realized he'd have to do more of the talking. Conversation wasn't his strong suit, no matter how much he tried, but relying on their well-tuned abilities to read the other was out of the question.

Not when the White Dragonslayer looked close to breaking down, shoulders quivering as exhaustion and frustration warred inside him.

”You're not going to prove anything to the other Guild Masters by overworking yourself.“ He pointed out, watching as Sting flinched at the call-out, ”didn't Master Bob tell you not to let the others get to you?”

A swell of emotions lit Sting's eyes, but his jaw clenched and served as the dam to hold each wave of thought back as it struck against him. Eyes shifted away in guilt and the slayer clicked his tongue, irritated.

“You make...” He sighed, screwing his eyes shut, “It's not that simple. He makes it sound easy, but-”

He waved a hand to the stack of papers he'd been rifling through: stacks on stacks of documents to sign, correspondence with the counsel as well as future clients, but most notably were the letters sealed by a multitude of guild masters; the responses to their last meeting. All the envelopes were torn open, some uneven and others obliterated in a stress fueled rage. Rogue didn't have to look long to recognize the handwriting of a few and he could guess the content of most of them.

“... they didn't like meeting here, did they?” He surmised, waiting for Sting to fill in the blanks.

The coaxing was enough and the tired Master of Sabertooth exploded in desperate fury, throwing his hands into the air, “I can't please any of them! Either the meeting here was too non-professional, or too stuffy. They just have complaints upon complaints. One even claimed Jiemma would do better and I—!“

That name alone was enough to leave a foul taste in the shadow slayer’s mouth and he wasted no time in covering the envelopes with an entirely different stack of documents, hastily blocking Sting's view. It was enough. He deflated, voice dropping to a whisper as he resettled in his chair and dropped his face against the desk by Rogue's leg.

His voice whispered, muffled by the hardwood, but punctuated in exhaustion and a childish whine. ”Sometimes, I really HATE being the Master. Things were simpler when I was a regular member.“

Rogue wanted to respond, but the words jarred in his throat. Words of agreement or comfort tangled themselves and slipped away, leaving him to stare at his partner with a knitted brow and aching heart. It wasn't right to see the light to his shadows so dimmed and while he wanted to brighten it, strengthen that glow Sting was known for, he didn't know where to start.

What he did know for certain, was that Sting was looking at this entirely wrong. His gaze shifted back to the hidden stack of letters, lips thinning into a deep set frown as a rumble of displeasure ran through him.

”You'll never be Jiemma.“ He said, voice firm as he untangled the string of words burning the tip of his tongue, ”Isn't that the point?”

Sting tilted his head, one eye peering through the fringe of his blond hair at the other, ”What do you mean?“

Rogue's frown deepened, ”Maybe this wasn't the job you had in mind. Maybe you'd be just as happy with someone else running our Guild, but can you honestly say you'd want it to run the way it was before?“

Sting's answering growl was all the encouragement Rogue needed to continue. ”Those who claim otherwise don't understand what he did to us. How he turned us into soldiers who couldn't trust our own members. They're the old Masters, stuck in their ways, who will be replaced sooner than others.“

And, thinking back towards the bit of return addresses he'd seen, Rogue added, ”... and they weren't all bad, were they?“

”Hmm?“ Sting mumbled, already a bit of shine was returning to his eyes, a sight that chased away his ill at ease feelings.

”Master Bob's letter thanked us for hosting,“ He replied, voice lowering to match Sting's tone, holding their voices just between them and away from the office's open air, “And you can't tell me Makarov of Fairy Tail had anything negative to say. Not with how his Guild is run after all.”

Sting snorted, lips giving the slightest curl of a grin, “He asked what brewery we get our drinks from.”

“Of course he did,” he deadpanned. His expression must have changed as the sight sprung a laugh from Sting, giving just a little more light to the room.

But there was still doubt, the shadow slayer could sense it and when Sting's amused grin turned down again, he acted fast. Cutting him off with a finger to Sting's lips, Rogue leaned down to brush strands of hair from the other's face, quietly talking into his ear as he did.

”Those outside of us,“ He murmured, ignoring the way Sting shivered as his breath ghosted across his skin, ”- outside of our Guild, will never fully understand the changes you wish to implement. Not yet. But we know. All of us. And we support it. What matters more, the opinions of those old coots or our Guild?“

”Why are you asking obvious questions?“ Sting snapped, though there was little bite in his words. Rogue hummed and allowed instinct to guide his actions, nipping the tip of Sting's ear in gentle reprimand before he leaned back, just in time to see Sting's wide eyes and pink cheeks as he snatched Rogue's hand in his.

”A bit forward for you, isn't it?“ He drawled, grip tight as he rubbed his smarting ear.

“Obvious questions for an idiot stuck in the opinions of those who don't matter,” He said matter of factly. Temptation pulled at his senses, to tease and meld back into the shadows and out of Sting's grip, but now was not the time for that sort of play. He smirked, “And a bite for the stupid question.”

“You're really asking for it, you know that-”

“Later.” He interrupted, eyes hardening. “For now, we should head home. Lector's waiting.”

“But-” And while Rogue could see the confliction on Sting's face, a want to avenge himself warring with duty, he could see the way his eyes slowly slid back to the mountain of papers before him. There was a lot of it. Too much for one person.

“Sting,” Rogue said, his voice a simple demand for his fellow slayer to turn his attention back to him. “You are what this Guild needs. Just Sting Eucliffe. No one else. If I offer to help tomorrow, will you please come to bed?”

A plea. His last ditch effort for results, but it did the job he intended. Sting's shoulders sagged and relief flooded through his body like a wave as he finally allowed a yawn to pass through sharp fangs, blinking wearily at the ceiling.

“I hate when you're right,” He grumbled, jumping back to his feet with no further coaxing. “Leave the float cookies: I can have them tomorrow.”

“And Yukino?” Rogue pressed, not missing Sting's subtle nod to his hand, offering to tug him off his perch. He accepted with ease and followed the White Slayer back around and towards the doors. He only paused to grab the spare coat off the table, unceremoniously draping it over the Master's shoulders and as the scarf dragged against the floor. The snickers heard beneath the coat as Sting struggled to put it on, set the world back into place and he nodded to Rogue's question the moment his head was free and clear once more.

”Yeah, yeah, I'll apologize to her, too,“ he griped. ”You're awfully naggy tonight, aren't you?“

”I'm not against throwing you into the first snow pile I see,“ he threatened, but the heat of their fingers together warmed him from inside out and finally, the light he counted on to chase his shadows away, illuminated his every step.

There was no need to sink back into the dark magic now. He'd rather bask in the heat of Sting's rays as they finally left the guild to give Sabertooth’s young Master the sleep he desperately needed.

When they made it through the door of their shared apartment, with snowflakes dusting their hair and the cold chill of the night painting their skin, Lector had joined Frosch in sleep, curled side by side as they patiently waited in Rogue’s bed. But there was no time to wake them or give apologies, as Sting's stubborn determination finally gave way to exhaustion and he stumbled over his own feet.

Rogue was fast to maneuver him to his own bed and he sighed when his back sank into the mattress. As Rogue finished tucking him in, stuffing bits of blankets onto either side of him, he was already out cold, gentle snores escaping with every breath. His fingers, however, were still entangled with Rogue’s, refusing to let go.

Rogue thought back to the book he'd been reading, left alone in the other room, out of reach, and shrugged. It would be a simple matter to unhook their hands and grab his book, returning to a night of quiet, but one look into Sting’s face told him all he needed to know. He held tight to Sting's hand and accepted his new plans. Falling atop the thick blankets of Sting's bed, He curled up beside the other, listening to the rise and fall of his partner’s breathing to lull him to sleep.

Everything else could wait.

#ftfanfiction #Stingue #Stingue Fanfiction #Sting Eucliffe #Rogue Cheney #Fairy Tail Fanfiction #Secret Santa #Gift Exchange #The Guild Awards Discord Gift Exchange #bbys first stingue #My Writing #My Fanfiction #late gift #i'm suuuuper sorry this took me so long!#;.;

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