Litashe's writing challenge Round 2
Pairing; Cana x Macao
Well, wasn't this a surprise?
Cana mused over a barrel of her favorite beer as she peered at the flier in her hand. Fairy Tail had events all the time, of course, because they were such a party-oriented and fun-loving guild, but to organize a dance…? Now, this was new. Not unseen, because there had been two or three over all the years that Cana had belonged to the guild, but it was still rare. This was the first dance in five years, in fact. Now that Cana was old enough to capitalize on the assets that her womanly figure offered, a dance seemed like a pretty cool idea.
The date was exactly one week away. Everyone had known about the dance for a month now, but Cana had just decided roughly one hour and three barrels ago that she was going to attend.
No, of course it hadn't had anything at all to do with the fact that Macao had told Wakaba that he might show up. And of course it had nothing to do with the fact that she might, kind-of-sort-of think that he was ruggedly handsome, or that she had a thing for older guys.
Nothing at all to do with that.
Cana discarded the flier on the counter beside her–because where else could she sit besides on Mira's counter, so she was closer to the beer?–and tipped her barrel up for a nice, long draught. The liquor ghosted down her throat as easily as a breath, washing away the taste of that fruity margarita that Mirajane had forced upon her earlier with the excuse that Cana should be a little more girly and consume the mixed drinks rather than beer.
Though the fruity drinks tasted a hell of a lot sweeter, and Cana liked that, she just didn't get the same buzz from it. She drank the beer because she had an extremely high tolerance level for it, but she was afraid that too many of those girly drinks would actually somehow inebriate her. It took long enough for her to build her tolerance of beer to the level that she had; how long would it take to add fruity-fufu drinks (as Macao liked to call them) to that list of she-can-drink-however-much-she-wants-and-still-not-get-drunk liquors?
"Cana," a sweet voice came from the card mage's right, and she stiffened as she slowly lowered the beer barrel from her lips. Smiling up at her was Mirajane, and that innocent little smile scared the shit out of her.
"Y-yeah, Mira?"
"When are you going to get your dress?" the white-haired mage asked brightly, gesturing to the flier that Cana had just discarded moments before.
"Dress? It doesn't say anything about a dress," the brunette sat her barrel down and pulled the flier back towards herself, skimming the words again. "Nothing at all about a dress."
"Well, no," Mira conceded, "but girls normally do wear dresses to dances. It's a good chance to show the guy they like what he's missing, or maybe even get his attention by showing them just how gorgeous she can be. Maybe for you it can be a chance to loosen up in a different way than usual…"
The takeover mage cast a pointed look at the barrel of beer beside her and Cana wrapped her arms around it, frowning at the slightly older girl.
"I am fine just the way I am," Cana said, still embracing her barrel. "And there is nothing wrong with a girl who appreciates a good beer every now and then."
"Every now and then?" a voice asked, laughing. "If you only had beer every now and then, there'd actually be enough to go around!"
Cana turned her scowl on Macao (and no, she did not find the way his dark eyes twinkled as he laughed, or how she could see the beginnings of his crow's feet at the corner of his eyes, attractive in any manner whatsoever…maybe) as she lifted her half empty beverage into her lap.
"Our definitions of every now and then are obviously very different," Cana retorted, cradling the barrel.
"Obviously," Mirajane said, nodding. She was virtually ignored as Macao started laughing and slid onto one of the barstools near the card mage and in front of the takeover mage.
"Hey," Cana said, almost offended. Okay, really offended. He didn't even deem her statement as worthy of a reply consisting of words? "What's that laughter supposed to mean, eh?"
Macao stopped laughing and leaned toward Cana with a little smirk on his face. This smirk made her almost more wary than Mirajane's innocent smile. That devious twinkle that overtook the mirthful one in his eyes…
"How about we have a little wager, then?"
The brunette's eyebrows shot up at his suggestion, then she leaned down closer to him.
"And what, may I ask, is this wager?"
Mirajane took an unnoticed step back from the two, so her present wouldn't interfere with what she deemed as a 'moment' between the two of them. She could just see the tension in the air around them, and she liked to believe it was of a passionate sort.
Even if Cana was slightly in denial, Mira could see that the card mage had an attraction to Macao. And whatever the case may be, even though their ages were vastly different, she approved of the two as a couple. She had actually hoped to prompt some sort of thing like this between them before now.
"Well," Mirajane had to pull herself out of her thoughts to focus on the confrontation between the two in front of her as Macao continued, "let's say…I bet you can't drink nothing but fruity drinks or mixed drinks, with more juice or soda than alcohol, on the night of the dance. I bet you cave and steal someone's beer."
"That's just one night. I can manage that," Cana snorted, sitting up. "So…if I win?"
"I'll have Mira double the next shipment of beer, and I'll pay for the extras."
Cana raised one eyebrow higher than the other, greatly tempted by that offer.
"And if you win?"
"Hm…hadn't thought of that yet," Macao, scratched his stubbly chin (and no, Cana didn't internally have a fan girl moment at the action–it had to be that fruity drink messing with her stomach), deep in thought.
"How about this," Mirajane popped in, unable to resist. She smiled her sweet smile, and it put both of them on edge. Mira held up a finger, grinningly, and said, "If Macao wins, Cana, you have to save a dance for him at the end of the night!"
The eyes of both of the gamblers widened by a margin, Cana's more than Macao's, but the scruffy mage turned his eyes down and scratched his chin in thought.
"Yeah, that'll work," he shrugged, then returned his devious expression to his features as he turned to look up at the brunette woman atop the counter. "Are you game?"
After her initial shock, Cana smirked at him.
"You're going down, Macao," she retorted, lifting up her barrel to guzzle down some more of her precious beer. Neither of them noticed the little victory dance that the white-haired woman behind the counter performed for a split second before controlling herself.
For her part, Cana was freaking out. Of course Mira's suggestion had been that; she was an avid matchmaker, and the card mage had suspected that the barmaid knew of her affections for the older man. The takeover mage's reward for Macao had proven that she knew. Cana didn't know whether to be mortified, or whether to be happy that Mirajane would take it into her own hands to try to get the two together. It wasn't as if Cana was afraid of Mira's matchmaking plots (no, she was terrified), so she could let herself be happy, right…?
She was more worried than anything. What if the elder white-haired sibling told Macao what Cana felt? What if he just laughed? Sure, Cana loved his laugh, but…that would be the worst thing imaginable. To have the man you'd fallen for laugh when he was told that you loved him. It could break the heart of the strongest woman in the world, and Cana knew that she wasn't the strongest woman out there. Not even Erza was the strongest woman in that aspect; sometimes, the card mage actually thought Lucy was the strongest of them all. Everything that the blonde had been through, and she could still show such a bright smile to the world. It was no wonder that all of Fairy Tail was rooting for the celestial mage to get with the fire dragonslayer, because she and Natsu just had so much in common.
The brunette on the bar blinked, realizing that her train of thought had become skewed (again), and she struggled to find a happy medium. Perhaps something that didn't include Macao and how she absolutely didn't think he was attractive at all. Not even the cute way his eyes twinkled, or how the stubble on his cheeks kind of turned her on in a strange way, or–no! She shook her head and returned to her barrel of beer.
Mirajane, Cana noticed when she walked in, was disappointed at the card mage's attire. The music already thumped loudly throughout the guild, and the dancing and drinking had commenced without the brunette, but she didn't care. Lucy from across the room flashed a thumbs up and then returned to nursing her margarita. Cana, however, tugged self-consciously on the miniskirt she'd borrowed from the aforementioned blonde in lieu of a dress. Her top was a low-cut, lacy tank top she'd owned for a while but hadn't bothered to wear, in a sexy red. She wore matching heels, but still Mira looked disappointed in her. Cana could only assume that the white-haired demon had wanted to see her in a dress.
That's too bad, she thought with a strange sense of vindictive pleasure.
Her first instinct as she walked into the party was to go over and grab a barrel, but she stopped herself as she remembered the wager. So she sat down in a barstool and motioned the lovely Mira over.
"Get me one of those…things," Cana gestured to the display of fruity drinks on the wall behind Mira, and the white-haired woman beamed. "Just make it big."
A laugh came from behind, and she knew instantly that it belonged to her opponent in the bet.
"What do you want?" she asked, watching Mirajane set to work on an extremely large beverage. The card mage didn't even know that they had glasses that big; it was good for future reference, she supposed.
"To see how you're holding up your end of the bet," Macao replied, sliding onto the stool beside her. He had that devious grin on and called, "Hey, Mira, could you get me a beer when you're done with that?"
Oh, he was going to get it. The brunette swore as much as she seethed silently, casting a dark glare at him. The saying if looks could kill was prominent in her thoughts (never mind that if it was one of the Raijinshuu tribe, looks probably could kill), and she directed some pretty evil vibes at the scruffy older man beside her. She noticed then that he was wearing a button down black shirt with the top four buttons undone, which looked pretty damn good. The dressy theme began and ended with the shirt and the shiny black shoes, because he wore some worn-out blue jeans. Cana recognized the jeans as a pair that had the back right pocket almost ripped off, and would have laughed had she not been so pissed at him.
"Here, Macao," Mirajane had to come at that moment, sitting a tankard of the beverage Cana so desperately desired at that moment in front of the man. "If you waited for Cana's to be done, it would have taken a few more minutes."
Cana turned her glare on the barmaid as Macao thanked her, lifting the drink to his lips.
With a devious smirk that could have matched the dark haired older man's previous one, the brunette reached out as he slowly taunted her. She meant to make him think she was already giving in, and he lowered the tankard a few centimeters to raise an incredulous brow at her, until…
"What the hell?" Macao cried as his face got splashed with his beverage. Cana just smirked like the little devil she had been for just a few seconds.
"Oh, is something wrong?" she asked him as Mira sat down the margarita in front of her. The white-haired woman managed to hide her giggle from the two, but the smile lingered. The brunette was taking a long drink of the mixed beverage, and sat it down, turning to the dripping wet person beside her. She elegantly arched an eyebrow in a quizzical expression, though everyone who saw it knew that she had done it on purpose.
"So that's how it is…" said the older man thoughtfully.
Cana blinked innocently at the older man and a smirk once more crept across his whiskered features.
"You've forfeited any chance of winning!" he then said, seizing her arm and hauling her to her feet. Cana stumbled, completely taken aback.
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" she managed not to start flailing, but it was a very near thing. "I haven't had a single beer since I got here–five minutes ago!"
"Ah, but you see, Cana," Macao shook his finger, like a teacher scolding a schoolchild. "You touched mine. You reached out an deliberately spilled my beer–how am I to know it wasn't just a ruse? Maybe you were just hiding your original intention of stealing my drink, or maybe you even spilled it purposefully so you wouldn't be tempted to pick it up rather than your margarita. So I win by default!"
He said this quite cheerfully, and although Cana couldn't fault the logic (because really, she might have done it for those reasons later on), she protested.
"You can't go changing it up!" she said, stamping her foot a little childishly. "That wasn't in the rules–you never said I couldn't touch a beer, you just said I couldn't drink one!"
"Mira?" Macao knew the white-haired woman's devious smirk well, and knew she would be of assistance to him. Cana, dread filling her chest, knew this fact just as well when she turned and the smirk became a glaringly innocent grin. That grin on the features of Mirajane was never a good sign for her newest victims.
"I think Macao's right this time, Cana," said the takeover mage, blinking and widening her brilliant blue eyes. "You've lost."
Cana's mouth was agape, and she looked reminiscent of a fish out of water (which Macao would make sure she knew later). A hand grabbed her wrist before she could get her wits about her, and she found herself being pulled toward the dance floor.
"Let's dance," Macao suggested, smirking triumphantly.
Even if she outwardly groaned, Cana's heart was thumping rapidly at an ever-quickening pace and she felt her face getting warm. She rarely blushed, a trait for which she was thankful. As much as she'd dreaded the possibility of losing this bet and dancing with Macao, she'd also been secretly yearning for this outcome. And so the brunette didn't protest as her older companion drew her out onto the 'dance floor' (the tables were pushed to the sides, leaving the middle of the guild's floor bare). She merely followed his lead.
By the time most of the guild was slightly inebriated, Cana had already grinded with Lucy, Levy, Lisanna, Bisca, and even Erza, which caused wolf-whistles and nosebleeds. The girls had already engaged in a chain with each other. As more and more drinks, more liquid passion, drizzled down throats, the closeness of the dancing intensified. Where it had just been girls goofing off and having fun, the guys now mingled.
Somehow, inconceivably, there was a buzz in the card mage's head. The beat thumped through her, and she swayed with the music, dancing with whoever came up to her. This was a night to have fun, to abandon her reason, and she was letting loose. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to mix her consumption of beer, whiskey, tequila, and whatever else had been in those drinks together, but she had. Lucy had offered her a drink of some strange fruity drink; the taste had lingered on her tongue, tangy and tantalizing. The brief sip from Erza's strawberry daiquiri had burst on her tongue, making Cana want to go up to the bar and order her own. Before she'd done that, she had been swept back among the crowd of heaving, sweating bodies, dancing without a care.
Later, the brunette had gotten a taste of Levy's hard lemonade, the slightly sour taste lingering on her tongue but going down so smoothly she almost didn't realize that it wasn't in her mouth anymore. She'd stolen Macao's beer at some point, figuring to hell with it, I've already lost! And Mira had made some jell-o shots that were just oh-so amazing. Shots of whiskey with Gajeel, Gray, Natsu, and even Master Makarov came after that, with Macao joining in halfway through as Gray nearly tipped over.
It was back to the dance floor, a slight haze covering everyone. Cana didn't mind it; hell, it had been too long since she'd felt this kind of buzz before.
That margarita Mira had made her finally disappeared, chugged down as though she was in a contest, and the brunette ordered another one (looking back, she thought she might have slurred her speech when she asked for it) and flounced back onto the dance floor, dragging the nearest guy–Nab–along with her.
A number of drinks that she couldn't even keep count of and three-and-a-half hours later, she found herself back-to-front against none other than Macao, just kind of swaying to the beat with his hands on her waist. It wasn't too intimate, nor was it completely innocent. She touched the back of his hands as they slid forward around her stomach and leaned her head back against him to laugh a little.
When she felt his stubble on her cheek, she wondered why in the word she thought that touch felt so good–it was only the unshaved hair on his chin and jaw!
"What's so funny?" he asked in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear over the thumping music and the laughing and the noisemaking of their guild mates.
Even just after she responded, she couldn't remember what she'd said, or even whether she'd just shook her head no as if to say forget about it. It wasn't really as if she cared, though. The buzz was there, and it was just as intoxicating as the alcohol. The brunette reveled in this long-forgotten feeling of being tipsy, and then of being drunk. She wouldn't remember the last hour of the party; only that there was a cologne or something that smelled really, really good and she just wanted to bottle it and carry it with her.
When Cana Alberona woke up the next morning on her couch the first thing she could do was groan. Her head, naturally, felt as though it was splitting apart. It had been a long time since she'd felt the full effects of drinking so much, yet she was still prepared for the consequences. The brunette slowly put her feet off of the couch–how did she even get home?–and sat up. She rubbed her eyes, frowning at the unsettled feeling in her stomach and the blinding pain in her temple, before slowly opening her eyes.
Then she stared.
And she stared some more.
She might have screamed had it not been for the rational thought that it might hurt her head worse–and the fact that her throat seemed clogged and her tongue heavy. So Cana watched as his chest heaved up and down and his chin drooped to his chest, and smiled softly at the sight of him. Even this disheveled, and sleeping uncomfortably in her armchair, Macao was still the man of her dreams. And even if he didn't show it very often it was moments like this, when he had obviously brought her home and stayed to make sure she'd be all right, that proved he cared about her. Maybe she was half his age, and maybe she would only be like an older sister to his son, but she didn't care about all of that (and maybe, she thought wryly, he'll get over those parts soon, too), because isn't age just a number?
A small smile crossed her face even with the pain of her hangover, and she silently thanked Mira. She may never thank the takeover mage aloud, she knew, but she was grateful. Thanks to that bet, and those damned matchmaking tendencies of the former S-class mage, Cana had been able to loosen up and just dance. And that had brought her to this moment, watching the gentle rising and falling of his chest as he slept.
With a sigh, the card mage pushed herself up and ambled into her kitchen to find her meds and make some coffee and maybe even make breakfast for two (because Macao sure could eat after drinking a lot; she learned that after their first few drinking contests). And all through these preparations of hers, she could feel a tingling on her waist and abdomen; a trick of her memory reminding her where she knew his hands had been.
And it wasn't until she went to the bathroom to shower and try to wake up when she looked in the mirror, a glance really, before turning back so fast one would have expected her to get whiplash. Even though she didn't blush very often, the color crept into her cheeks and she slowly raised her fingers to trace the purple bruise on her neck. And the one below that. She then rushed out of the bathroom, as quietly as she could, and hovered over the snoozing male, careful not to wake him.
A smirk spread across her face this time as memories of the previously unremembered end of the dance came back to her. She knew she'd been responsible for the purple marks on his neck, and she knew he'd been responsible for hers.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the music.
Whatever it was, or if it was a combination of several factors, she couldn't bring herself to care. Cana knew he wasn't completely gone with he was drunk–if he'd had any real qualms with the action, even inebriated, he wouldn't have done it. She let herself be satisfied with this; even if he wanted to ignore it and deny it for a while, she had faith he'd come around sooner or later.
Maybe all he needed was more alcohol.
3845 words. I had a much longer idea in mind, but I wasn't sure about transitions and I didn't figure lit wanted to read a whole bunch since she has several participants, sooo…I drew it to an end here.
I kind of thought writing this was fun, so I hope you enjoyed reading it! :)