Saturday afternoons were the only time in Gajeel's life that had any kind of structure. One pm he would sling his guitar over his back and start the walk down to the centre of town. At quarter to two, he would sit down next to the old fountain, and get set up for his time slot. Saturdays were the only day the council allowed buskers, and it had a waiting list as long as Gajeel's arm to get a slot. He listened to the saxophonist screech for fifteen minutes before the youngster put his instrument back into the case and Gajeel started to play.
He didn't busk for the money. He had a steady job at a good mechanics at the other side of town that not only consumed his time and stopped the boredom but also provided more than enough jewel to keep up with his modest lifestyle. The owner had found him breaking into the garage three years earlier, and it had been the most terrifying moment of Gajeel's life. He still remembered cowering behind an old Jeep, hoping the man wouldn't spot him. But as soon as the man did, he grinned down at Gajeel and offered him a job.
"You managed to open my garage door. That takes at least some talent. Tell you what, I won't turn you over to the police as long as you do some work for me."
It had started off with odd jobs, but slowly Gajeel had learned to fix cars. Metallicana, the owner, had always preferred modern cars but after a few months of tinkering around Gajeel decided that he was more of a fan of the old mechanical workhorses that didn't require any electricity. That was fine with Metallicana, and Gajeel took on any mechanical cars that came in. They were coming in with more and more frequency now, Metalicanna said that the word was getting out about Gajeel's talent with cars, and he made enough to move out of his tiny apartment and into a two bedroom house. So, no. He didn't busk for the money. He busked for the two hours of serenity it gave him in an otherwise chaotic life of oil and metal.
He had a couple of sets that he played, a mixture of just his guitar or him singing alongside it. He did some covers if he particularly liked the melody or the words, but mostly he sang his own songs. He had two hours to fill, and occasionally he would get passersby throwing coins into his guitar case, but mostly he was left undisturbed until the next busker came along. As his fingers started the song that he always finished up with, he closed his eyes to sing along. He hadn't written it, specifically, but he had adapted it for guitar. It was a song that he remembered from when he was a tiny child, and he always ended his sets with it as a strange ritual to finish his two hours of busking and continue with the rest of his life. Usually, he just finished the song, picked up whatever money he had earned before packing his guitar away before nodding at the ancient accordion player who took the slot after his. But today something was different. He heard applause after he strummed out his last chords, something that he rarely heard, and looked up to see someone new.
She was tiny, and to start with he thought she was a child. Bright blue hair poked out from a large woolly hat, and hazel eyes shone out over the top of a matching scarf. She was all wrapped up against the winter weather apart from her hands, which was probably something to do with the violin that was sat in its case in front of her. She couldn't be that young, her proportions were all wrong. She had to be 18 at least. She smiled, and Gajeel hurriedly grabbed the money out of his case - less than usual, probably due to the cold weather - before packing his guitar away. The girl moved seamlessly around him to stand by the fountain and raised her violin to play. Gajeel wasn't usually bothered with the politics of the buskers, so he didn't know why he spoke up. Maybe it was the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, or maybe it was just because she had been the only one ever to applaud him.
"Where's Adam?"
She paused for a second, chin rest pressed into her neck as she held out her left hand to shake his.
"I got told I could take this slot last week. I'm Levy, it's nice to meet you."
Gajeel took her hand in his, almost pulling it back once he felt how cold her fingers were. He smiled as he adjusted the guitar on his back before starting to move away so she could start to play.
"Gajeel. I'll see you next week."
He never usually listened to any of the other buskers, but as soon as she started to play he decided to sit down on one of the benches and watch. The way she played was almost magical, and it mesmerised him. He didn't even notice any of the time passing before she had finished her set and was replaced by a cellist. She packed her violin away, not even recognising he was there as she walked off and Gajeel decided to go and finally start working on the old Defender that had just come into the garage.
Levy couldn't concentrate on the stack of paperwork in front of her, her eyes flitting from the clock on the wall to the violin case propped up against the door. It was only a five minute walk from her shop to the fountain where she had got her slot to busk, and on quieter days you could hear some of the louder performers. She had applied for the busking license a year before, when her shop was going through a rough patch, but she could still use the extra money. She wasn't expecting much, but even a few pounds could help her out at this moment in time. The office door swung open, and the blonde head of her friend poked through it.
"I don't see any paperwork being done, Levy. What's the point of me being here to help you if you're just gonna stare at the clock all day? Inventory's done, by the way."
Lucy placed a cup of coffee on the desk in front of her, and Levy gladly grabbed at it. She had always drunk black coffee, never really being a fan of the multiple sugars and milk that Lucy ruined hers with. The liquid warmed her inside and out as she sat back from the table and looked at her friend.
"I know… I just can't concentrate. Are you sure you're okay manning the shop while I go and play?"
Lucy grinned, staying by the door so she could keep an eye on the shop while she chatted with the bluenette.
"What? You think I'd deprive this town of hearing your beautiful music? What do you think of me, Ms McGarden?"
Levy could feel herself blushing. She had never really thought she was that talented, but as soon as Lucy had heard her play she never stopped talking about it. Before Lucy the only people she played for were Jet and Droy, and even that was only after they bothered her about it. It was Droy that had convinced her to apply for a busking license, and it was a testament to just how broke she was that she had agreed to it. Her shop just about broke even most months, and any extra she could earn went a long way. She finished up her coffee, noticed it was fifteen minutes until her slot started and stood from her chair. Well, she wasn't getting any work done anyway, she may as well start to walk across to the square. Nerves ate at her stomach as she pulled her violin case over her shoulder and started to head out of the door.
"Have fun! You'll do perfectly!"
She waved at Lucy, not sure she could even speak right now. Hopefully, the cold air would do wonders for her anxiety.
She recognised the man that was playing, he was one of the performers that was often loud enough to be heard from the shop. His guitar was incredible, but his voice left much to be desired. She had never seen him before, but had often imagined what he looked like. Small, probably with a goatee and a velvet suit. That's what most of the people who busked in the town looked like anyway. She shoved her hands in her pockets as she rounded the corner, and stopped in her tracks. He was huge. One of the biggest men she had ever seen, eyes closed as his fingers danced across the strings of his acoustic guitar and his voice sang out words to a song in a language she had never heard. She thought she knew a lot of languages, but not this one. He was wearing a dirty black tank top, and jeans with more tears in them than fabric. It didn't look like he bought them like that, it looked like they had gone through a lot of work especially with the oil wiped down them. He obviously wasn't as bothered by the cold as he was. She set her violin down on a bench while she watched him, and got it out of the case as he sang the song. The melody was beautiful, singing straight to her heart, and it made her forget about the cold. She couldn't stop herself from clapping as soon as the song stopped, and the man looked up at her with surprise. She placed her violin to her neck, anxious to start playing.
"Where's Adam?"
Levy paused. His voice was deep and gravelly, a lot different to the voice he sang in. He looked weirdly angry and she swallowed her anxiety to reply.
"I got told I could take his spot last week." She didn't know what made her introduce herself, but she adjusted her violin so she could hold it with her cheek so she could hold out her hand. "I'm Levy, nice to meet you."
He took her hand in his, and she couldn't help but notice how it dwarfed her fingers. It was warm, obviously, he wasn't affected by the two hours he had spent playing out in the cold.
"Gajeel. I'll see you next week."
Levy blushed as he released her hand, but started to play. It was a mixture of modern and old songs, and she was happy to see a large crowd surrounding her by the time she finished, and a violin case full of coins that she would have to take back and count. Smiling, she packed her violin away and headed back to the shop.
She didn't know what compelled her to fill two flasks with coffee before she headed to the fountain the next Saturday, but she did. She didn't even know if he liked coffee. Oh well, all the more for her if he didn't. She was already sitting on a bench sipping out of the first flask when she heard the familiar tune of the old song fill her ears. His voice sang above it, rough and scratchy but still soothing. She tapped her fingers on her violin along to the rhythm before clapping again once he had finished. Standing from the bench she walked over, handing him the coffee as she did. He looked confused for a second, before taking a sip and smiling.
"This is good coffee."
She smiled nervously, starting to set up around him as he drank.
"I can't really afford to give you any money, that's the best I can do I'm afraid."
He grunted his appreciation, before moving out of the way so she could start her own set. Levy always closed her eyes when she played, and as so she didn't see him place the empty flask back at her feet and leave before she finished. On top of it was a guitar pick, making her giggle slightly. She hadn't even seen him use one.
The next six months fell into a kind of routine. Gajeel would pack up something that he had made into a Tupperware box and carry it with him to the fountain. He would play his set, and without fail there would be Levy clapping at the end of his final song before handing him a flask of coffee. It had switched to ice coffee now it was the summer, still just as strong and bitter as it had been in the winter. He would stay and listen to her play, before leaving the empty flask and whatever was in the Tupperware before she finished. She had become a lot more confident in her playing, and Gajeel noticed a regular crowd starting to gather about halfway through his set. They never paid him anything, but he didn't care. He had a brand new reason to busk now.
This particular Saturday she was sat on her particular bench earlier than usual, and he could see people get excited for her to start playing. He moved into his final song, and was about to start singing when he heard the familiar notes of Levy's violin starting to play. He closed his mouth tightly, never missing a beat as Levy's violin weaved a melody over the top of his chords. She made the tune haunting as it danced through his own notes. He almost didn't want the song to end, but as soon as her bow stilled he played three more chords, before stopping and standing up. He took her flask from her hand without speaking, packing up his guitar and walking away to his normal bench to listen to her play. He was there for about an hour before he rooted around in his pocket and pulled out the first piece of paper he could find. Scribbling his number on it, he placed it into the Tupperware box he had filled with Meringues and took it over to her. She didn't pause as he placed the box and the flask on the floor, and retreated back to his garage. He wouldn't be able to work, but there was a punching bag out the back. He'd work out some frustrations before figuring out what the fuck had just happened.
Warm up prompt for Gajevy Love Week 2017! I will be writing a story for each of the prompts (as if I don't have enough on my plate already *sigh*). Check out fuckyeahgajevy on Tumblr for all the prompts and other awesome contributions!
I hate writing AUs. Hope this one worked out alright!