Work Text:
You always find yourself drawn to his hands. Hands that were used to fix countless machines and parts, hard working and always active in some way. Pale fingers that would rapidly type away on a keyboard while fixing countless lines of code and data. Hands that were always moving, unconsciously painting a picture of a story he'd tell. His hands, were one of your favorite things about him. You'd watch them while he'd play his games or fix his inventions and programs. Transfixed by the ease and flexibility he'd show, a man in his element when he had his hands on tools or fiddling with computers. You'd felt those hands many times, felt their strength when fighting against him when he'd overblotted. Skin cold as death, one of many omens of the Underworld which he hated so much. You knew how they were sturdy, strong and built to handle tasks that were harder than most. The markings of a man who's life was in his hands. Covered in calluses from gripping tools or game controllers since he was young.
You also knew how gentle those same hands could be.
Hands that gently touched your own when shyly passing a game controller to you, hesitant to linger because of that cold skin and hidden strength. Always gentle and tender when handling things he loved, from cradling his younger brother's face when he was in need of fixing to picking up Grim to pet him. Yes, his hands were one of your favorite things about Idia Shroud. You loved how your hand fit in his perfectly, your warm skin meeting his cooler one. Loved how when in his rare moments of stepping out of his comfort zone, he'd handle you with care. Attentive and protective, just as he was with Ortho. When you were held in those few moments, his hands cupping your lower back to support you. You felt nothing but safety. A sense of comfort and ease that was so uniquely Idia. He never understood why you loved them so much, grimacing when you'd tell him that you adored them. That you always wanted to hold them in yours. In his eyes, his hands, just like him were cursed. Cold and awkward and fumbling. Idia didn't think he'd ever understand your fascination with his hands, but as he stares at you. Seeing your warm, tender expression aimed at him. Feeling your hands, warm like sunshine intertwining with his and gripping them tightly. Silently promising to not let go, with your beautiful smile beaming at him. Idia didn't find him understanding that important, didn't mind that him not understanding it never being answered. As long as you were there, with your hand in his, that was all that mattered.