Author's note: Finally, a breather! I tried to work on this whenever I got time, but I've been lacking in that. This was really only supposed to be a quick three-shot to distract me from the other two huge projects (one of which is completed after two years of writing, yay!), but it's quickly evolved into...several more chapters. Don't worry, this isn't the last one. There will be a definite conclusion! And yes, romance, I've decided. Gushy, fluffy, adorable romance that you can't escape from.
6. Babymaking
It took some time, but eventually Lisanna managed to convince her siblings that Bixlow had not taken advantage of her drunken state. "In fact, he was a complete gentleman," she fibbed. She regaled them with a retelling of the mission, how Bixlow had taken it knowing he wouldn't be paid properly, how he suggested she leave at the first sign of danger, how he heroically caught the ghost and sewed up her injuries, and finally how he carried her all the way to his house.
"I guess he's manlier than I thought," Elfman muttered after she was done. "But I'm not apologizing. A real manly man would have carried you home."
Mirajane was still unconvinced, but not about Bixlow. "Sounds like you're really getting to know each other," she cooed.
"Are you seriously implying that I am developing feelings for Bixlow only hours after you tried to kill him in his own home?" Lisanna deadpanned.
"I'm just saying that you two are spending an awful lot of time together," Mira quipped. "And it's not like I mind, as long as you're making responsible decisions. Bixlow does have quite the reputation among women, but from what you've told me he's treating you with a considerable amount of respect. For Bixlow, anyway."
"Right," Lisanna sighed. She didn't let Mirajane's words get to her—of course there was nothing going on between her and Bixlow. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became. If Bixlow was truly interested in her, he would have made a move by now. A serious one, not some silly, raunchy pick-up line. She definitely wasn't harboring feelings for him, either. How could she? It was Bixlow.
Lisanna did feel a bit guilty for all the trouble she'd caused after the mission, though, so the next day she found herself strolling up the walkway to his front door to apologize. It took a few minutes for someone to answer, but eventually Bixlow opened the door, garmentless from the waist up.
"Don't you ever wear a shirt?" Lisanna blurted, heat rising to her face.
"Don't you ever start a conversation with 'hello'?" Bixlow countered, frowning down at her. "You didn't come to punch me, too, did you? 'Cause I don't really got the time."
Lisanna was shocked by his offensiveness. She bit back a retort and offered him the large plastic shopping bag in her hand. "That's actually what I came here to discuss. I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding? Your brother assaulted me and ruined half of my visors. Some of those were really delicate."
"Well, he assaulted you because he misunderstood the situation," Lisanna snapped. "He did what any big brother would do. It's not like he didn't have probable cause to worry. You don't exactly have a sparkling reputation."
"So it's my fault 'cause I've got a sex life?" Bixlow replied, lip curling.
"No, it's—it's no one's fault. It was a misunderstanding. Now I'm trying to make up for it, so take the damn apology gift before I change my mind!"
Bixlow raised an eyebrow at her and took the bag, digging around inside. He pulled out a fluffy white pillow, clean and new, and his eyebrows shot up even higher. "You…got me a pillow?"
"Yes. Since my chronic drooling ruined your other one." Lisanna crossed her arms. "If I remembered correctly, you demanded that I reimburse you. So there. Consider yourself reimbursed."
His mouth turned upwards at the corner. "This…has got to be the lamest apology gift ever."
"If you don't like it, I'll take it," said Lisanna, making a grab for the mattress accessory. Bixlow's smirk became a full-blown grin as he held it up over his head and out of her reach, planting his other huge hand on top of her head to keep her from jumping.
"Will you sleep with it and then give it back?" he asked, wiggling his tongue at her.
"You're disgusting!" Lisanna accused, shoving him away. She wasn't strong enough move him, though, she so ended up just standing there with her hands pressed to his chest. His big, broad, muscular chest…
Lisanna recoiled like she'd touched something hot (which, in a way, she had). Bixlow's hand slid from her hair and the babies zoomed over to retrieve the pillow, flying under it and carrying it above them. Lisanna blinked at them, doing a quick count.
"Why are there only four babies?" she inquired.
"Mm? Oh, Popo's doll wasn't doin' so hot after the ghost smashed it. I'm makin' him a new one." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Wanna see?"
Lisanna knew she probably shouldn't, but she found herself stepping inside the house anyway. It was brave of him to even invite her in after the last time. "Another hobby?" she said, glancing around the room. Carpentry tools and wood shavings littered the table next to a vaguely tiki-shaped hunk of dead tree.
"You could say that. The babies need lots of repairs and new hosts, so I make 'em," Bixlow explained. The four remaining babies zipped into the living room, lining up on the table in a neat row. "They're waitin' for Popo to rejoin them. Bein' an even numbered group is throwin' 'em off. Spirits like odd numbers—three, five, and seven in particular."
"Guess that explains a lot," Lisanan remarked, shooting him a smirk. "So your babies have names, huh?"
"Well, duh. What d'you think I call 'em?"
"I don't know. They've always just been 'babies'."
Bixlow snorted. "Well they gotta have names, don't they? That's Pepe, Papa, Pupu, and Pipi," he said, pointing to each one. "And this is gonna be Popo soon as I'm done."
"That's…adorable," said Lisanna, smiling.
"What?"
"All their names correlate. It's cute."
Bixlow grinned back at her. "You think I'm cute."
"I said their names were cute. I didn't say anything about you."
"But I gave 'em their names! I gotta get some credit!"
"I suppose so," Lisanna admitted, tapping her chin thoughtfully. She peered down at the mass of wood, which had yet to take any discernible expression. "Is he going to look the same?"
"Why don't you stay and find out?"
"If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you like getting punched."
"By who? Your brother?" Bixlow shrugged. "You set him straight, didn't you? He doesn't think I'm tryin' to corrupt your oh-so-delicate sensibilities anymore. And I'm pretty sure the barmaid's rootin' for me, s'long as your panties don't melt away in my presence. So what's stoppin' you from hangin' out for a while?"
"Hangin' out!" the remainder of the babies warbled. "Hangin' out!"
"Nothing, I guess," Lisanna said. She hadn't quite reasoned it out like that.
Bixlow grinned triumphantly. "Excellent. Take a seat, and I'll get you started."
"Wait, what do you mean?"
"It's rude to not supply your guest with a form of entertainment while you're otherwise occupied." He ducked behind the table and emerged with a cube of wood and a utility knife. "Honestly, Lisanna. Don't you know anything about common curtesy?"
"It's fine, I'll just watch you," Lisanna said as he shoved the materials in her hands and sat her down in the chair next to him.
"Nonsense. I'll show you the basics."
"Bixlow," Lisanna scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "It's carving a hunk of wood. How hard can it be?"
"I'm not sure, but it sounds like you think woodcarving is easy," Bixlow said, amused. His quartet of dolls sang, "Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy!" behind him.
"You said it, not me," Lisanna shrugged.
"Fine, then. Have at it." Bixlow panted himself in his chair and picked up what was to be Popo, dexterously carving with his own knife. Lisanna could feel his eyes watching her as she awkwardly picked up the cube of wood and the utility knife. She carefully chipped at the surface, peeling off a small splinter of wood. She glanced up to find Bixlow giving her a mocking smirk.
"What?" she growled.
"You sure you don't want help?"
"Why don't you focus on your own project?" she retorted, staring pointedly at his still hands.
He chortled and began carving smooth shavings from his doll. They fell on the table in thin, curling strips. Lisanna narrowed her eyes and discreetly copied his motions, although she only succeeded in further scarring the surface of the wood.
They whittled away in silence for a while. Lisanna had a nice, jagged crevasse in her cube when Bixlow asked, "So, what are you making? A volcano?"
"Maybe it's a sculpture of your big mouth."
"Ouch. Harsh."
"That's right. Be in pain."
"Speaking of which," Bixlow began, "how're your arms? Didja get the dragonslayer girl to look at you?"
Lisanna glanced down at her forearms, still wrapped tight in white gauze. "Yes. She was really impressed with your handy work. Gave me a salve to prevent infection and help with the pain." Not that it did much—her arms still ached constantly, but she wouldn't admit that to Bixlow. It had only been one day. Perhaps Wendy's salve needed time to work effectively. That's what Mira had suggested, at least.
"Told you, you didn't have anything to worry about," Bixlow said cockily. "I'm a master seamstress."
"I'm not sure that's something to brag about," Lisanna giggled.
"Hey. When the going gets tough, the tough get sewing."
"Tough, tough!" the babies chirped.
"Thanks again for doing that," Lisanna said. "And carrying me home. Well, here. To not-a-stranger's house."
"Mention it," Bixlow requested. "I like praise. And pillows. You can bring me more of those, if you want. I'll even let you use 'em."
"That's awfully considerate of you," said Lisanna, rolling her eyes.
"Considerate's my middle name."
Lisanna smirked. "Now that I think about it, you've never told me your middle name. You've never even said your last name."
"And I never will."
"Why? Is it embarrassing?"
"Nope."
"Then why not?"
He sighed. "If you must know, my full name is Bixlow Sexy Beast."
"Bixlow! Be serious!"
"Why don't you tell me your middle name, then, hot stuff?"
"I don't have one," Lisanna said smugly.
"What?" Bixlow exclaimed. "What kind of soulless, depraved person doesn't have a middle name?"
Lisanna pointed to herself.
"Well, that's unacceptable. It's a crime against nature."
"Stop avoiding the question."
"I'll have to christen you."
"Oh, boy."
Bixlow tapped his chin with the point of his utility knife, deep in thought. Finally he snapped his fingers. "I got it. How about Lisanna Sizzles Strauss."
"Lisanna Sizzles? What am I, a rapper?"
"You're right. That's too funky-fresh," Bixlow agreed. "What do you think about Gretchen?"
"Lisanna Gretchen Strauss? Ew."
"It's kind of sexy."
"Only if you're a yodeler with a lederhosen fetish."
"Come on, everyone's gotta have an embarrassing middle name."
"Ah-ha! So yours is embarrassing!"
"I'm not everyone," Bixlow countered.
"I won't tell anyone. Pinkie swear." Lisanna offered her little finger, smiling benignly.
"It's not important what my name is," Bixlow said, going back to his woodcarving. "It's not part of who I am anymore."
Lisanna lowered her pinkie, sobered. "…Okay," she relented. She grabbed her knife and absently poked at her cube, wondering if she could somehow carve it into anything vaguely recognizable. Bixlow started sanding his creation, smoothing out the rough edges. Lisanna still couldn't see the face, but she knew his tiki doll looked much better than her blob of wood. Jealously she ran her thumb across a ragged edge and yelped when a sharp pain pierced the skin. She brought it to her mouth, hoping to relieve the smarting sensation.
"What?" Bixlow inquired. "You didn't cut yourself, did you?"
"No," Lisanna said. She looked at her thumb, which now sported an impressive sliver of wood. "I got a splinter."
Bixlow snorted. "A splinter? Really?"
"Don't laugh! It really hurts!" Lisanna cradled her injured hand crossly. "Why do I always end up getting hurt whenever you're around?"
"Are you kidding me?! Last time we were together, I was the one who almost got beat to a pulp!"
"Pulp, pulp, pulp!" the babies mocked.
"Yeah, but I almost got my head sliced off by a ghost, which is, like, ten times worse. And now I've got a splinter. What if it gets infected, Bixlow? My thumb could come off!" She wiggled it for dramatic effect. "My thumb!"
"Oh, for Mavis's sake, give it here," Bixlow demanded, grabbing her wrist. Lisanna winced at the jolt of stinging pain that went up her arm, but she didn't cry out. He inspected her critical thumb closely, twisting it at an odd angle to get a better look. "I get these all the time. S'no big deal. Nothin' some tweezers won't fix."
"Tweezers?"
"Yeah, I got some in the bathroom. I'll be right back." He stood up and disappeared down the hall. Lisanna heard the bathroom light flick on. She glanced at her thumb, which was red around the invasive black shaving. Curiously she picked up the unfinished tiki doll, turning it to see its face. It was similar to the others, a big happy grin and two round eyes with wings sprouting from either side, but not exactly the same as before. There was more detail in this one, more embellishment on the wings, a steeper upturning of the mouth…
"You're a nosy one, you know that?" Bixlow criticized, returning with the tweezers. "First you're up in my medicine cabinet, snoopin' around my nail polish, and then you're askin' about my middle name, and now this."
"What can I say, you're more interesting than I thought." She turned the flawless tiki doll so it was facing him and frowned. "Is there anything you aren't good at?"
"I'm sure there is. Just haven't found it yet," said Bixlow modestly, shooting her a tongue-wagging grin. He stuck out his hand. "Lemme see that splinter."
Lisanna gave him her hand. He pulled it close to his face and inspected the sore thumb for a moment, prodding at it with his calloused fingers. Lisanna grimaced when he pinched and then pulled out the sliver of wood with the tweezers. "Got it," he declared. "See, that wasn't so bad."
"I guess not," said Lisanna awkwardly. Bixlow was still holding her hand.
"…You're bleeding a little," he said after a few beats, finally releasing her. There was indeed a small bright pearl of blood on her thumb. Lisanna brought it to her mouth again.
"That's alright, I don't think it requires stitches or anything," she joked.
"Good, 'cause I wasn't offering," Bixlow retorted. He pointed at her woodcarving. "So, you gonna finish that or what? I still gotta stain mine."
"What do you mean? It's finished."
He quirked an eyebrow. "What's it supposed to be?"
"It's abstract, obviously," Lisanna huffed. "Don't you understand art?"
"No. But I know crap when I see it."
Lisanna stuck out her tongue. "I can't stay, anyway. I told the animal shelter I'd help out again today, so they'll be expecting me soon. I'll see you around, though."
"Yeah, see you around," Bixlow agreed, although his tone suggested that he doubted it.
As the door closed behind her, Lisanna felt the fib in her words, too. She couldn't think under what circumstances she'd ever interact with Bixlow like she had the past few days. He might hit on her again at the guild, but when would they ever get the chance to do something like this again? Even Bixlow had to run out of hobbies eventually.
The thought opened up some loss in her chest, a bit of sadness that surprised her. She considered turning back, but she was already running late. And what would she say? I miss you already, when can I see you again? Lisanna could already imagine Bixlow's response: cruel, mocking laughter. How desperate are you, hot stuff?
She continued down the pathway, crossing her arms over her chest. Once she thought she heard the door open and wheeled around eagerly, hoping to see Bixlow standing there, calling after her. But it was just the bitter autumn wind.