Author's Note: I guess this is AU in the fact that I don't know where exactly to pin it into the timeline. Post X791 for sure. I'm also just going to pretend Jellal and Erza worked things out, and he admitted he wasn't actually engaged to be married. This does not been approved by my beta because I'm afraid I've swamped her enough as it is. Forgive my awful grammar.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Oddly enough, he enjoyed the rain. All too often he finished for the night with more than one spatter of blood on his skin or clothing, and the drops falling from the sky made him feel a little less contaminated by the time he reached her window. He didn't always have the opportunity to return to her at the end of the day, so any night near Magnolia was spent in her company.

With the exception of the winter months, Erza kept her bedroom window open at night. She had no fear of intruders, and the one man who would dare to enter her home unannounced had a standing invitation. Jellal landed in a crouch on the small ledge outside the window, and turned his face skyward. The rain would not wash his face clean of everything, but it made him feel better to try.

She did not startle at the soft thump of his boots on her carpet, only turning slightly to raise an eyebrow at his state. The trail of blood left behind by the cut over his eyebrow did not escape her attention. Without a word she left him alone in the bedroom, and he shed his cloak as he waited for her to return with a bandage.

"You'll want to remove your shirt, too. I imagine everything is wet by now." Erza's voice was quiet as she rejoined him. Most would think her tone uncharacteristic, but Jellal knew she wasn't always a warrior. She had a kind heart, even if she kept it shielded. When they were alone like this she never raised her voice, and always spoke just loud enough for him to hear her. He understood the behavior to be a defense mechanism, and had adopted the same practice. The spell of their private moments together wouldn't be broken by him.

Jellal watched as she took his wet clothes, and draped them over a chair, and stool near her fireplace. A pointed glance at his dirty boots indicated they were to join the rest of his belongings. Erza approached him, and reached up to touch the snaking laceration above his eye. He tried not to wince, and failed.

"Is this the only one?" She asked softly as she inspected his bruised chest, and shoulder.

His reply was delayed because he couldn't help gazing down at the concentrated way she examined him. When she finally met his eyes, he smiled.

"Does the extent of your injuries amuse you, Jellal? I can't understand why."

"No, they don't amuse me." He touched her hair, and exhaled quietly as the damp scarlet strands slipped from his fingers. Even from the small distance between them he could catch the scent of her shampoo. He guessed that she'd bathed within the past few hours. "Yes, that's the only one."

"You should shower before I dress it. I don't want rainwater on my sheets," her voice, soft as it was, commanded him to comply.

Her soap always left him euphoric. Not because he particularly enjoyed the fragrance of it, but because it was hers. When he finished, and stepped from the shower there was a pair of sweatpants left on the edge of the basin for him. The hot water had left him drained, and sore. Falling into Erza's sheets and pillows, without the bother of cleaning up his wound, sounded fantastic, however, the way she perched on the end of her bed clutching a small medical kit told him that would not be happening.

Erza nodded to the space next to her on the mattress, and he wordlessly obeyed. As he sat, she stood, and edged his knees apart to stand between them. Without comment she applied some variety of medicinal compound to the cut above his eye, and attached two butterfly bandages to hold the skin together. Jellal shamelessly stared up at her, and didn't even try to hide the sentimental grin on his lips.

"For someone with a gash on their face, you're awfully happy," she murmured as she tossed the bandage packaging aside. Her voice was bland, but the way the corner of her mouth twitched told him she was charmed by him. Erza gently brushed the stubborn pieces of hair from his forehead that fell over the bandages, and exposed cut.

"Maybe I'm a bit of a masochist."

She smirked. "Maybe?"

Jellal pulled her closer, and looped his aching arms around her waist. "Thank you for patching me up. Again."

"If I left it up to you to take care of yourself I think we both know you'd be covered in completely preventable scars." Erza smiled down at him, and kissed the top of his head. "Someone has to do it."

"I'd rather it be you." He felt on the brink of a deep sleep that could no longer be held at bay. She didn't need to know he hadn't truly slept in days and had been saving his last dregs of energy for the trek to her window ledge. "I don't want anyone else."

As she gently stroked the planes of his face, and lines of the tattoo that would forever identify him, Jellal closed his eyes. Her knee came to rest on the bed close to his hip, and she tilted his chin upwards. He felt her lips brush feather soft against the bandaged laceration, his eyelids, and finally she sighed against his mouth before kissing him. Exhausted as he was, desire for her surged forward the way it always did.

Erza kissed him as if she had all the time in the world to do so. She never rushed. There had been times when he was so overcome with want that her calculated methods of seduction felt cruel. In this moment, however, the slow way her lips moved over his paired with the deliberate sweep of her tongue and the mindfully tender way she touched his face left him completely unable to imagine wanting anything more.

With a final press of her lips she whispered, "Come to bed, Jellal. It's late."

He couldn't disguise his delight at her suggestion. The clean scent of her sheets and pillows surrounded him, and the simple pleasure of being cocooned by soft, sweet smelling things lulled him into a helpless state. Erza joined him beneath the blankets, and with a last show of consciousness he curled into her side. The last thing he remembered before drifting away was the sound of the rain still pattering against the window ledge, and the softness of her body against his. He didn't need to say that he loved her.