duckiesandlemons | [Granblue Fantasy] Drabble Collection 2

Title: Drabble Collection 2
Rating: G
Fandom: Granblue Fantasy
Characters: Sandalphon, Lucifer, Ayer, Gran
Summary: LuciSan, Fake Dating AU/GranAyer, the best gift for a martial artist is tape. These are prompts I took from twitter as warmup!
Warning(s): None

Sandalphon’s fingers miss the button of his shirt for the fourth time.

He curses under his breath, stopping to wipe his way too sweaty hands off on the towel that he had used earlier because there was no way in hell he was going to wipe them off on his pants. Not that he should even be nervous, anyways. Not like there’s really any meaning behind it, he’s just going to be Lucifer’s p-p-par—

Part—Partn—

--accompaniment to this rather fancy party held by some bigshots of different companies with daughters they want to marry off. It’s all politics in the end, and Sandalphon hadn’t been very interested in the first place. Parties that big aren’t his thing, even if the thought of Lucifer, getting along with some woman, taking her out on a…Sandalphon shakes that thought out of his head. That’s precisely the reason he’s doing this. Lucifer doesn’t want to marry, doesn’t want to really hook up with anyone, and he had asked Sandalphon (with his always present stoicism) if he would mind pretending to be his d-d-da—

--date.

There, Sandalphon said (thought) it, just as he finally finished buttoning the last button of his dress shirt. He fumbles with his tie, eventually getting it right, and puts on his vest, followed by his suit jacket, and by the time that’s buttoned up he hears the doorbell ring.

“Coming!” Lyria’s voice rings from downstairs. A few minutes later she can be heard coming up the stairs before she knocks on his door. “S-S-Sandalphon, your date is here! D-d-date!!?”

“It’s not really a date, Lyria,” he says when he opens his door. She’s staring up at him with slackjawed awe. “It really isn’t.”

“B-but he introduced himself as Lucifer, and as your date—”

Did he?

Sandalphon turns red, “That’s just…formality—look I’ll be back late so let me give you money for dinner—”

Because he forgot to stop and get groceries earlier.

“—unless you’re heading over to Djeeta and Gran’s later.”

“Okay!” she takes it all in stride, and follows behind him as he walks downstairs to the entrance. He has to take a moment, his heart leaping up into his throat. Lucifer is standing there, tall and regal in a pressed suit colored a crisp black. A red scarf is draped over his shoulders, and it stands out amidst the harsh black of his suit and the almost white of his hair. “…are you sure you’re not dating?” Lyria asks Sandalphon quietly, peering out from behind him. “He’s very handsome.”

“Positive,” Sandalphon whispers back. He clears his throat, drawing Lucifer’s attention away from the photo of Sandalphon and Lyria that’s hanging on the wall (taken a couple of years ago, at her first choir competition for high school). “President Lucifer,” Sandalphon says, bowing stiffly, “thank you for coming.”

Lucifer smiles, “Thank you, Sandalphon, for listening to such a selfish request.”

“That’s—it’s really—” the words die in his throat as Lucifer approaches him, an arm casually wrapping around his waist.

Lyria gasps.

“I’ll bring your brother back later, if you don’t mind me stealing him away for the evening,” Lucifer tells Lyria.

She nods.

Sandalphon is all too hyper aware of the hand on his hip.

“Shall we?” and Lucifer remains the picture of innocence, even as he guides Sandalphon to his car.

“Y-yeah.”

Sandalphon isn’t going to survive this night.

**********

Ayer wraps his knuckles up before every session in the gym. More out of habit than actual safety, since he likes the feeling of impact, but he’s been chewed out enough by his old coach and then by Ladiva when he joined this gym that he’s started doing it more regularly. It’s for protection, for stability, all these things that people have told him again and again and again.

Ayer rips off the rest of the tape with a satisfying tear.

“Ayer!” Feather yells from the mat, already geared up. “Ayer! Let’s spar! I haven’t—”

“Pay attention to your opponent already in the ring, dumbass!”

Randall’s voice carries over, followed by a swift “thwack” and a yell from Feather. Ayer ignores them, heading over to a more open area of the gym to start his warmups. The door opens, Aliza storming in with her usual gusto. Ayer tunes them all out, thinking back to—his eyes flick back over to his bag and to the tape that sticks out of it, back to his hands.

They look back up at him covered in pastel blue.

“Oh, Ayer, is that new tape?” Aliza’s voice suddenly by his ear makes him jump.

“M-mind your own business,” he huffs.

“Sorry, sorry!” she laughs. “It’s just—you usually use the plain ones who gave you this?”

Ayer scowls, turning his head away. His ears are burning, and his cheeks red, but he refuses to tell her that they came from Gran. Gran who had found him after a particularly nasty scrape and had dragged him off to buy medical supplies and all sorts of things and had left it—

Aliza chuckles, “Ohhh, I bet I know who it was.”

“Shut up,” Ayer shoves her—hard enough to push her a bit away, but not hard enough to topple her over.

Aliza keeps laughing, “You hear that, Gran! Ayer doesn’t want to admit that he likes your present!”

“Oh, he’s using it?” Gran’s voice carries through the gym.

Ayer’s face turns completely red.