New York City was melting. 98 degrees with searing blue skies and a Molotov cocktail of smog and humidity stuffing the air. The usual horns and roar of the sidewalk puppet chatter was muffled and drained; everything from the sopping hot dog vendor and the steel skeletons of skyscrapers seemed to sway and groan through an open maw of exhaustion.
Up on the 54th floor of one of the buildings tucked snugly between an ornate Marriot and the headquarters for a popular TV network, was the home for Fairy Tail Times. And that day, their A/C wasn't working.
"Who wrote this editorial?"
Her voice was consumed by blaring chatter and the industrial-sized fans set up in opposing corners of the bustling office. Employees lined with sticky, damp button-ups and slacks ran from place to place, heels clacking in nonsensical rhythms that clashed against the gnashing of keyboard keys. Multiple phones were ringing, answered in short time with rushed greeting card lines of hospitality before their message was scribbled down and stuffed in a pile of hundreds more.
At the head of the room, Lucy was pacing up and down the line of gaping windows, rubbing at her headache with one hand as she fanned herself with the sheaf of papers held in the other.
"Hello?" she tried again. "Is anyone listening to me?"
A leggy girl jogged up from her desk, long, green brain sashaying down her back. "Me! It was me."
"Bisca." Lucy rested her hand on her hip, frowning down at the girl. "This is too opinionated. I know you love guns, but please. Editorial."
Bisca flushed, but she took the article back with a tiny salute and said, "Right. You got it, Lucy," before rushing off to edit as told.
"And Cana!"
The busty brunette jumped at the sound of her name, falling out of her computer chair and onto her face with a yelp. Wide sunglasses blocked out the majority of the hangover dripping down her face, but the loud groan she mushed into the carpet right before she snapped, "What?" told Lucy everything.
Lucy's hands clenched as her arms shook, crinkling the new set of papers she had beyond recognition.
"Why," Lucy gritted, "does every single horoscope have something to do with sex in it?"
"Uh-"
"This is a family-friendly newspaper, Cana, and I highly doubt the readers will appreciate the fact that the stars are telling them all to 'fuck it—just go out and get laid!'"
"Tell me one person who wouldn't like that!"
"Just sober up and fix this—now!" Lucy chucked the crumpled papers at Cana's head, then turned on her heel and stomped back to her desk.
With a heavy sigh, Lucy's shoulders slumped and, without care, she shoved away the sweaty, matted hairs that clung to her temples. What did it matter at this point? It was 10am and already her hair had puffed out like a chia pet, her blazer had been discarded on the back of her chair, and her skirt hem had been rolled up borderline inappropriate. Yes, she thought as she roughly rolled up the sleeves of her white button-up, she knew she looked like a mess right now. But the sweat currently gathering on every inch of her body—including the underbellies of her suffocating chest, making her squirm—was the last of her worries. The deadline for the paper was today at 4pm and no one—not a single person—had a piece ready for print. No one.
Coffee. She needed coffee.
"Levy!" At this point, Lucy didn't even try to stop the whine in her voice.
A small, blue head poked up from behind a computer screen on the opposite end of the room. When the girl noticed Lucy starting to undo the top buttons of her blouse as she wilted over her desk, Levy ran to Lucy's side, desperately trying to shield her indecent friend with her tiny body.
"Lucy, what are you doing?" she hissed.
Lucy stopped at the button right above her cleavage and groaned again. "It's hot. No one can write. I'm dead, we're all dead."
"Lu—"
"I need coffee, Levy. Where is my new assistant?"
"He should be—"
"Max!" Lucy shouted across the room, eyes blazing. "Those broom images you're gawking at better be for your article, or so help me—"
With a yip, Max quickly closed out of his Google image search and flung his fingers haphazardly about the keyboard to make it seem like he'd been fast at work the whole time.
"He should be what?" Lucy looked back to Levy. "It's his first day. Who's late on their first day?"
"If you'd listen to me, I asked him to get you a coffee."
Lucy blinked. "You did? But still, it's been over an hour. Maybe you should call him?"
"Well, actually—"
"You know, never mind. I'll call him. Is his number on your desk?"
"Yes, but—"
"I'll go get it."
"But, Lu—"
Lucy whirled around—right into a tray-holder full of coffee.
The whole office stopped. Four cups of iced coffee now dripped down the front of Lucy's shirt, staining it brown and wearing it down to a transparency that exposed her white bra. Her jaw floundered as she stared down at herself, hands hanging up in the air beside her shoulders, frozen. With a gasp, Levy scurried to get Lucy's blazer and hold it out over the girl's chest.
That snapped Lucy out of her stupor. Cheeks burning, she snatched the blazer from Levy and clutched it to her front. She glared at the new assistant, a tall, pink-haired, gaping man who kept glancing from her chest to her face, a dark flush staining his cheeks.
"Holy shit. Uh, I, sorry, I—" he stuttered. He reached towards her as if to try and help, but then just let his hands fall limp at his sides.
Lucy took a deep breath, her chest shuddering with restraint, and very softly she whispered, "Fired."
His eyes bugged out, and his mouth flapped, trying to come up with something to say, but she turned, ignoring him to face the rest of the office.
"Everyone else," she continued, much louder this time, "get back to work. I want everyone's articles on my desk by 2pm."
Without waiting for anyone to respond, she stormed by Levy and her new assistant. The second the door to the office shut behind her, she dropped the blazer and ran to the bathroom, tears burning at the back of her eyes.
After having had spent the last twenty minutes blotting the coffee stain with no results, Lucy finally gave up. She sagged back against the sink, resigning herself to the fact that she'd have to wear her blazer in the sweltering office for the rest of the day, and deciding to take another ten minutes in the bathroom anyway. Her mental health needed it. The desire to cry still lingered like an itch she couldn't quite scratch, but she refused to let any tears fall.
Despite it not even being 11am yet, she was already ready to throw the towel in for the day, frustrated with her staff being unable to meet her demands, frustrated with her new assistant for humiliating her, and most of all, frustrated with herself. As editor in chief of the paper, the performance of her staff was a direct reflection of her. If they couldn't turn in a quality draft of the paper by the deadline that day, Lucy knew it would be no one's fault but her own. She would be the one responsible for everyone's disappointment.
Lucy knocked her fists lightly against her head, trying to bat the negative thoughts out. She had to keep it together for her team. Crying and withering away in the bathroom will do no one any good.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, soft and hesitant.
"Levy?" she called.
"Uh, no, it's Natsu."
"Natsu?"
"Your, uh, new assistant."
For a moment, Lucy toyed with the idea of not letting him in. She was extremely embarrassed with her earlier behavior, after all, and the guy had already seen her in her bra, not even five minutes into meeting her. But, summoning up all the courage she'd mustered in the past couple minutes she had to herself, she quickly tried smoothing down her frizzy mass of hair, and then pulled open the door.
Natsu was standing there with a shy smile quirking up one side of his face, a full cup of iced coffee in one hand and a fresh, white button-up in the other.
"Wha—what is—"
"An apology," he said, cutting her off. "I'm really sorry for what happened this morning."
He offered them out to her, but she just stood there, staring at them and blinking dumbly. A laugh bubbled out past Nastu's lips and he all but shoved them into her arms.
"Go on, they're for you, weirdo. I know you need them, so just take 'em."
Smiling softly, she hesitantly reached out and draped the shirt delicately over her arm before taking the coffee in her grasp. Didn't want to end up accidentally ruining that shirt, too.
"The shirt will probably be a little big on ya, sorry," he continued. "It's just a spare one I had in my car."
Lucy stared down at the starchy fabric, fingering the rough texture and finding herself unable to meet Natsu's eyes.
"Why're you being so nice to me?" she asked softly. "I fired you."
He laughed, dry and short, and ruffled his hair up in the back. "Yeah, about that. I was sorta hoping you could take that back? Erza would kill me if she found out I lost another job over doin' somethin' reckless."
This time, Lucy couldn't help but look up to see the bashful expression on his face. His green eyes were tilted up towards the ceiling, a blush turning childish the frown tugging at his lips. It made her own lips pull up.
"I take it back," she said.
His gaze snapped back down to her, and he jumped, shoulders hunching over awkwardly.
"Wait," he said, holding his hands out as if placating a ferocious animal. "Are you serious?"
She laughed. "Of course. I never really meant it in the first place. I was just upset. It's been a rough day, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."
After a moment, a large grin split across his face, and with a whoop, he starting jumping around and pumping his fists in the air. Bubbles of laughter escaped Lucy before she could stop them, but soon she just gave in, laughing so hard that her sides groaned.
"Okay," she said after sobering up a little bit, "I'm going to get changed really quick, and then I'll be in the office. Ask Levy to show you your desk."
"You got it, Luce!"
Before she could respond or even process the new nickname that he just dropped, Natsu ran down the hall, one of his rolled up sleeves falling as he went. One more chuckle spilled out of her, and with a shake of her head and a fond smile, she went back inside the bathroom.
How was it that a five minute conversation with the guy suddenly had her feeling like everything was going to be okay?
*Bonus*
The shirt really was too big. With it tucked in, the last button almost reached the hem of her skirt, and she had to roll the sleeves up at least ten times, and then continuously be conscious of having to push them back up. But still, with the blush Natsu wore when she flashed him a smile when she walked in, she was sure she looked good.
Hey everyone! I hope you liked it!
I have some ideas for continuing this (maybe...smutty ideas?), so if you want me to, be sure to let me know in the reviews!
Until next time!
-Jess