Insomnia
A/N: Finally, this update I kinda promised, so yeaaah, GaLe fluffiness, sorta. My first GaLe attempt, actually. Lemme know how I did, hey?
She examined the leathery cover in the yellowish glow of her bedside lamp with a transfixed gaze, tracing her fingers dreamily along the rigid, red letters of the title.
"Lurking," it read.
She suppressed an excited squeal, thrashing the blankets as she kicked her legs in triumph.
This book . . . it was the book she had waited for about two months. She had read the summary in an article somewhere and . . . really, she just had to preorder it. When she'd finally received it earlier that afternoon, the back had said, "Beware: Do not read after dark."
She just had to read it after dark.
But of course, not before sprawling out on her bed and reading the first one hundred and seventeen pages, and then fifteen more pages at the guild.
And so, what she was doing now was preparing herself for the challenge; it was a frightening book, as there'd been a warning on the back. So she would ignore the warning and do it anyway. Because of course Levy McGarden could take the horror. She had that afternoon and it would probably be no worse at night.
After she had controlled her thrilled breathing, she exhaled slowly, opening to the one hundred and thirty third, white page and taking in the exotic font once again.
.
.
.
Okay, okay, what a mistake she had made, reading such a book so late into the night. She . . . she couldn't even look at the cover anymore— it rattled her too much. Just those words . . . those words printed in such an eerie style, blood-red with dripping ink . . . . She gulped.
The monster in the book had blood-red eyes . . . blood-red eyes that saw into your soul and eventually removed it from your body, leaving it hollow shell for the worms to eat.
Mavis, if she looked at the cover too long, would the monster leap out and devour her soul? She wanted to lift the blankets over her head for protection, but she'd much rather be able to see if something . . . unnatural were going on.
She just wanted to go to sleep. But she couldn't get her imagined image of the evil creature out of her head. Bright, scarlet eyes continued to glare her down, hungrily, ready to eat her soul.
Yellowed claws kept on flexing, ready to tear her frail, little body apart. Razor-sharp teeth glittered dangerously. And that laugh- in the book, it had a wicked snicker, like, like-
"Gihihi . . . ."
Levy jumped about a foot into the air, almost tumbling from her bed as she trembled, lifting the covers to her chin while she sat up.
Oh, Mavis. Oh, Mavis, this was not real. This could not be happening. The monster could not be here . . . here in her crowded dorm. Her eyes flickered frantically to her numerous book shelves as she wondered if someone, or something could be slinking around them in the dark.
Oh, please, she didn't want anything to be there.
But instead of behind the book shelves, the next disturbing sound that she heard came from right outside her dorm room.
Thud.
Thunk.
Scrrrsch.
It sounded as if something heavy was moving through the hall, and she inhaled sharply.
It could be the monster with its big, heavy body.
But no, no, it couldn't because . . . because it had only been a story. Yet, perhaps there was a reason she wasn't to read it after dark . . . .
Thud.
Clunk.
"Gihi . . . ."
She stifled a scream. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. She would be eaten- the thing was heading her way- all because she hadn't heeded a stupid warning. She was so stupid.
The noises stopped outside of her door and she held her breath. At- at least the door was locked. But as she gawked helplessly at the rattling doorknob, the lock popped right off from the force.
Oh, Mavis, she was going to die. In the book, not even a really talented mage could hold their own against such a creature. Her bed would be her literal deathbed.
And then the door slammed open, and in stepped the red-eyed, black giant. She shrieked, loudly and shrilly, and when the giant lifted his hairy paws to cover his ears, she hurled a book at his head.
"Shit, Levy!"
She paused for a moment. The monster knew her name? Wait, but now that she squinted and turned her head this way and that, she realized that the monster was actually pretty handsome in a roguish sort of way, all shaggy mane of hair and silver piercings, and . . . oh, oh Mavis . . . .
"G-Gajeel?" She managed to squeak out her breathing had calmed.
When he muttered, "You gotta good arm there for a shrimp," it only confirmed her suspicions.
Instantly, though tentatively, she climbed out of bed, holding her hands to her mouth. "I . . . but I thought you were . . . ."
He straightened up, peering at her rather skeptically. "So this is it? You act smart, but you're really a lunatic outside of the guild?"
He was smirking in such a way that she couldn't tell if he were joking or serious. And it annoyed her (why was he always insulting her?) until she wanted to kick him in his stupid kneecaps (because that was the highest her legs could go when measured up to him.)
"W-Well, you were breaking into my room!" She lowered her voice a moment later, after thinking that she may have been waking her neighbors. "I . . . could have had a heart attack . . . ."
"Gihihi . . . I frightened the little kitten?" She glared at him (oh, but how it resembled being stared down by a teddy bear) trudging back to her bed and hugging a pillow to her chest.
She pouted, "Why are you even here? I just want to go to sleep, but it's kind of . . . difficult with people barging in uninvited . . . ." Lu-chan, is this how you feel about Natsu?
He looked elsewhere, scratching absently at the side of his neck as he mumbled, "I can't sleep."
She studied him curiously, taking in the slouched way he stood and the bags beneath his eyes in the darkness. It was obvious that he was tired. But . . . "T-That doesn't tell me why you're here . . ." Because it kind of unnerved her, not that she was scared of him, but just that . . . they weren't that close (Though maybe she would've secretly liked if they were) for him to just drop by her room in the middle of the night, clad in a t-shirt and shorts . . . .
How on Earthland did he get into Fairy Hills?
He crossed his arms. "What, am I not bein' straight-forward? I'm here cuz you're gonna help me." She stared at him, incredulous. He thought that highly of her? She meant to say, he was so sure that she'd follow his none-too-subtle demand? And even cure whatever insomnia he may have? He'd come to her in the middle of the night with a hopeful request? But alas . . . .
"What am I supposed to do?"
He ran a hand through his thick head of hair. "Can ya jest Solid Write, or whatever, me a 'sleep' or somethin'?"
Oh. Her bottom lip was between her teeth. "It's Solid Script, Gajeel." And toward his "Yeah, yeah," she sighed, and continued, "I do have a spell of that sort, though I believe it's more meant for battle, if anything. It knocks out whoever I cast it on, yes, but it's not very gentle. It's more like being knocked out from a concussion . . . you get a headache first . . . ." Which is a reason she hadn't thought to use it on herself.
He made a face, yawning. "Yeah, I'll pass."
She smiled lightly, picking idly at the seams of the pillowcase. "It's funny. I can't sleep either."
His grin was sharp . . . crooked. "What's the matter? Had a nightmare, Shorty?"
She avoided his gaze sheepishly, moistening her lips with her tongue. "N-Not quite . . . ." And then she looked up at him and his stiff posture. "W-Why can't you sleep?"
"It's Lily," he told her with a scowl. "I was already havin' trouble sleepin', but then he just went and betrayed me by catchin' a few winks himself. And then . . . and then he snores. No, no, wait . . . purrs is more like it."
She nearly giggled. "That's cute, Gajeel."
His voice was irritated. "No, it ain't. Got on my damn nerves." And then he marched over to her and demanded, "So move over, Shrimp."
She could only gape at him disbelievingly, not quite grasping what he was asking of her. "W-What?" Because he could not have just told her to- to-
"I said move over. Go on. Scoot."
Almost numbly, she felt herself complying, but even during that, she protested lamely, "B-But, Gajeel . . . this . . . this is . . . ."
"Hm?" He noticed that his studded boots were still on and turned to yank them off. Briefly, she remembered just how good-looking and strong his feet were, as she'd witnessed at the beach and water-park, and . . . j-just hold on a sec . . . .
But actually, he was wearing socks, and really, why was that so intriguing that she found herself craning her neck to find out which color? Huh. They were black. Now, go figure.
And then he climbed in beside her. She stiffened instantly, her breathing quickening. Gajeel was . . . Gajeel was . . . he was . . . in bed with her. She blinked. But could she really call it that when he was, in actuality, very close to falling off the edge and his legs from the knees down were left exposed from the blankets.
"This bed's too small," he grumbled, his eyes raking over the entirety of the room. "Come to think of it, everything here but the shelves are all dolly-sized." He eyes her and her cheeks heated. "How do you reach them books up top, eh Pipsqueak?"
He squinted at the room even harder and she blushed . . . even harder. "Oh . . . I see now. There ain't any books on the top."
She shifted so that he could not see her face. Damn his sudden talkativeness!
"Enough about smallness!" She barked indignantly, but of course it was merely a puppy's whine. "Why are you in my bed?"
His eyes flickered over to her with some kind of analyzing gaze, like she was stupid, or something. "Well, I dropped by and you ain't helpin' me, so the least you could do is share your bed, cuz I ain't goin' back to the Growlin' Panther."
She really did hate how he was so full of himself at times. The other times, though, she found his bluntness endearing because it was so . . . him. So Iron Dragon-ish.
But what was not Iron Dragon-ish was the indistinct (yes, indistinct, but Levy only caught it because she always stared at him only too hard) spreading of pink across his tan cheeks. Hm, definitely not Iron Dragon-ish, but she found herself attracted to it, liking that that blush was there for some unknown reason of hers.
Gosh, Levy was suddenly so overheated for someone who had just been frozen with terror minutes ago. She . . . she blamed the comforter, that stupid, stupid comforter, and really, why did she have blankets that heavy during the summer? Honestly, that must've been it.
But, jeez, Levy was smart, and she was quite aware that the comforter wasn't the problem. No, it was the ruffian-like fellow that lay beneath it with her.
"I-I . . . okay," she all but gasped out. Gajeel was stubborn; he would not leave, most likely, so she would have to fall asleep with him there, watching her, and boy did she feel self-conscious right then.
She swallowed thickly at the way he grinned smugly at her, canines glittering in the darkness, obsidian locks unkempt and dangling before his eyes, and . . . and why did she like this? This feeling swirling in the midst of her stomach, this feeling every time she felt his heat near her, like she wanted to get his attention and tell him, tell him, hint to him,
"Gajeel, you make my heart race in a different way than you did before . . . ."
She flinched and lunged out of bed when his knee touched hers. "I-I'm hot, are you hot, Gajeel? I'm gonna . . . I've gotta open a window." Look at her now, talking so improperly.
He shrugged at her dispassionately, so dispassionately when she felt like this. "Whatever, Shorty."
She bounded over to her window, pulled aside the curtain, and yanked it up to it's fullest, sticking her head out to meet the cool air. How she needed something like this to soothe the burning in her face . . . . But with the nighttime breeze so soft and refreshing, it reminded of her of how she'd like to go to sleep, and when she'd glanced toward her bed, Gajeel was there, strangely studying her, which almost caused her knees to buckle and her to topple out of the window.
"Gajeel?" She called, wincing at how uncertain her voice was, always so weak and little.
"Hm?" Came his gruff reply, crimson eyes averting so casually that it was as if he hadn't been looking in the first place. "You want somethin?"
"Well, I was wondering if you wanted some milk . . . ?"
"Milk?" Again with that scrutinizing eye.
"Yes, actually, it helps one to fall asleep . . . ."
"Oh. Yeah, sure, then."
She sighed in relief. Oh, yes, she really did need a warm mug of milk as of right then to calm her frayed nerves. So really, she was rather glad to be leaving the room to head downstairs into the kitchen, since she lacked a refrigerator in her dormitory.
So with an affirmative nod, she stepped out of her room, Gajeel's eyes following her every movement, which made her hands sweat, which made her lean against the door once she'd exited, clutching her speeding heart.
Jeez, she needed to get away, to clear her head. With a resigned shaking of her head, she made her way to the staircase.
.
.
.
Damn, how long does it take to get some frigging milk? The Iron Dragon-Slayer growled to himself once the seventeenth minute had gone by since Levy's departure. Yes, he'd been keeping track of the time, but what else did he have room to do in this cutesy little dorm?
Jeez, really. She may be a shortass, but she was not handicapped. The warming of milk should not be difficult for her, especially with her intelligence.
Seriously. She was smart. Surely she could warm some damn milk faster than this.
Yeah, so smart, nice, and cute, so of course that must count for something, like some kind of space ship science, or whatever the saying was.
And it was then that Gajeel sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing toward his startling discovery: Levy= smart, nice, and cute. Yeah, that. Something was wrong there with him thinking that. Something, anything, he really couldn't discern what.
Levy= smart, nice, and cute. His teeth clenched. What was the problem? What was it nagging him every time he had that thought?
Oh. Oh, right. Probably because it wasn't the words he'd use to describe her . . . the words he shouldn't use to describe her.
Levy= brilliant, charming, and adorable.
Yeah. He gave a satisfied grunt; that was much better.
But was not any better was when she failed to arrive the next minute. Not grumbling irritably, he slid out of her small bed (might as well have been a friggin baby crib) and exited her bedroom, heading down the dark hallway toward the elevator. Or the stairs?
Which way had he come in here from? Meh, didn't matter. He took the stairs down at the end of the hall, making way for the kitchen, wherever it was. He'd just follow Shorty's scent. She did have a pleasant aroma, like . . . vanilla ice cream. Or something. There was just a strange way to describe it, but he could discern it well from anyone else's scent, so . . . .
He located the kitchen in no time, though the lights were still oddly off, and Levy was standing stationary before the wide open refrigerator, as if she still hadn't found the milk yet.
"What're you doin?" He inquired more loudly and abruptly than he probably should've, because she then whirled around with a ten-foot jump of alarm, her face paler than usual.
"Eeek, it's the Lurker!"
"Uhh, h-?"
Though he didn't get to finish what he was saying, as Levy promptly fainted away and he had to catch her. What the hell? Either she'd been scared of something imaginary, she'd actually gotten to drink some warm milk without him, or she just plain liked to freak out whenever he walked into the room. Go figure.
Whatever the reason, he didn't let it bother him, instead closing the fridge and shifting Levy in his arms to that he was carrying her unconscious form bridal styled, heading back to her room.
He rather liked the way her hair tickled his bare arms, he thought absently as he stared at her bed, contemplating if he should really put her down, because . . . she made him feel warm.
Yeah, he knew it was weird to say, but . . . she made him feel warm, whether she was nearby or far, in his arms, or not, just the thought of her . . . he didn't want to put her down. Not really.
Not when he would be placing her into this puny bed of which he could hardly fit into himself . . . .
He blinked as a sudden thought struck him. He climbed into her bed with the sleeping girl in his lap, and when he laid down, he made sure to have her sprawl over him, as if he were her bed. Nice. So now he found a way where the both of them could fit into the bed together, she was his blanket, he was he bed, and walah. Problem solved.
And he didn't complain when she buried her nose in his neck, her fingers coiling around a lock of his hair. In fact, he encouraged it. Nobody had to know. Nobody but them.
A/N: And scene. Gajeel is hard to write . . . though he reminds me of writing Vegeta . . . . I dunno. Review?
