Slowly, ever so slowly, Bixlow inched his outstretched finger toward his captain's side. For once Freed was without his protective red coat, and the thin, white dress-shirt covering Freed's unprotected sides proved too much of a temptation for Bixlow. Closer, closer his finger came, until…
Freed slapped the encroaching hand away without so much as looking up from his drink. "Enough, Bixlow," the captain reprimanded sharply. "How many times do I have to tell you to quit that?"
The scolding only brought manic laughter from his friend, one Freed swore would be the death of him. "Aw, c'mon Freed, that ain't any fun!" Bixlow cackled to a chorus of "Spoilsport! Spoilsport!" from his floating dolls. "When're ya gonna learn to loosen up, huh?"
"I need not 'loosen up,' Bixlow. I have a right to the sanctity of my own bod-yeep!" Freed cut off with a sharp yelp as something finally made it past his defenses to poke his other side. He turned and lashed out, fully expecting to put Bixlow in his place, only for his fist to come within inches of Laxus' face.
In a panic, Freed stopped short and quickly returned his hands to his sides. Laxus' wide smirk and Bixlow's wild cackling told him everything he needed to know. Feeling a sudden rush of betrayal and a rising heat in his cheeks, the grumpy rune mage swiveled in his stool to focus on the cup before him and pretend the whole thing never happened.
Sure, he was an easy target for teasing when the team was bored, but did the have to so obviously enjoy it?

While Freed sat and stewed, he felt a pair of muscular arms snake around his waist and strong hands clasp over his stomach, holding him firmly in place.
"Are you mad, Freed?" Laxus asked, the proximity of his voice sending chills down Freed's neck. Was he mad? Yes, of course he was! He didn't need to always be reminded that he was the smallest man in the Raijinshuu! But then those arms squeezed just a little tighter, and Freed's resolve crumbled.
"No. I could never stay mad at you, Laxus."
"Would it make you feel better if I made Bixlow carry Ever's bags next time we go out?" The hail of "Hey!" and "No fair! No fair!" from Bixlow and his dolls was drowned out by Freed's sudden rush of glee.
"Yeah, that will do," Freed responded, trying to keep the delight out of his voice. By now he'd forgotten that he was supposed to be angry. He could only focus on Laxus' chin resting on his shoulder, Laxus' breath tickling his ear, and Laxus' reassuring weight - albeit slightly crushing - leaning on his back. "Although, how am I to know it will not happen again?"
The seemingly petulant question netted a laugh from Laxus, the deep rumbling of which reverberated into Freed's shoulders. "Howabout this; you carry my bags next job, and we'll share a tent," Laxus offered in return. "No one's gonna getcha in there."
Just that was enough to nearly stop Freed's heart. He fidgeted in his seat, unable to express just how perfect that sounded.
"You've got to do one thing for me first, though."
Wait, what? "Yes, Laxus?"
"Sit still."

…Oh.
There were rare occasions when the Thunder God would get it into his head that he needed to hold something.
This was one of those times.
Freed was that thing.
"Yes, Laxus."