AN: You know you're writing an AU when you introduce performance magic to a cast of characters that are originally mages.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does.


Chapter VIII

He just couldn't seem to catch a break.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Gajeel attempted to the best of his ability to tune out the madness around him. Like a wave of noise it had broken across the two of them as they'd entered through the back-door of the joint after their less than successful gun session earlier, and he wished they'd just stayed at the warehouse. At least it was quieter there, even if they weren't getting any work done. And even if she believed otherwise, he didn't hold that against her. It wasn't that he'd thought she'd turn out to be a natural or anything. He wasn't an idiot, or even remotely optimistic in general, and going by her last encounter with a gun it was hardly surprising that it'd left some sort of mental scar. But she had guts, despite everything – he was an idiot if he couldn't admit that by now. Hell, he didn't know if another woman in her shoes would have willingly followed him of all people into a dark and abandoned warehouse for a few rounds with a pistol – even he thought that sounded more than a little suspicious. But she'd stepped up to the challenge, and proven that her bravado hadn't just been that – bravado. Mental blocks he could work with – he'd gotten to show her the basics of the basics, and he doubted she'd forget it soon. She didn't seem like the type to.

An errant memory of her small form stiffening against him and her breath hitching in her throat at his sudden closeness had him inhaling sharply. If she'd thought her reactions had gone unnoticed, she was an idiot, but he hadn't been about to call her out on it. Not when he'd been more than a little affected himself.

Letting his gaze shift to where she stood beside him, he felt a smirk tug at his lips at the sight of her wide eyes. He guessed that where for him it wasn't anything out of the ordinary – a nuisance more than anything else, really – for her it had to be something completely new and thus, interesting.

The speakeasy had been turned on its head, as per the usual when the trio made their appearance in town. The tables had been pushed back in preparation for the coming show that would no doubt be a surprise for the night's customers. The old geezer took too much joy in severely outclassing his competitors, and Gajeel knew that by the end of the night, there'd be renewed hushed whispers and rumours of Fairy Tail all around Magnolia – both in the inner city and in the Alleys. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if the rumours spread to the other cities – their reputation was already widely known.

And of course, seated at the bar with a smug grin on his face, Makarov couldn't be more pleased with himself.

But the centre of all attention – as he often was during his few and random appearances – was the source of the commotion himself, dressed in a ridiculously flamboyant cape and holding a large, golden staff – his signature attire. It made him look like a damn clown, but Gajeel wasn't the one pretending to saw people in two and make kittens disappear, so he hardly understood the fashion of the already freaky industry. Magic – he didn't get it, but it entertained people, so there was some use to it, he guessed.

"That's Jellal Fernandes," he said suddenly, and by her start, surprising her, and surprising himself, even, for opening his mouth in the first place. Brown eyes blinked before meeting his, curiosity shining in their depths, and she had the same look on her face that she'd had when he'd told her he'd teach her how to shoot, and yeah, maybe he did take some sort of perverse pleasure in having that look directed at him. "Siegrain's just a stage name," he continued, as he for some reason couldn't stop himself. "His posse's Meredy – that's the tiny one who's not nearly as innocent as she looks, and the one that looks like she could rob you blind and leave a smile on yer face is Ultear."

She nodded, turning her eyes towards the spectacle at the other end of the establishment, where a large stage was being prepared for the three. "And they come here often?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Few times a year. They travel around, mostly."

"And what, they perform magic-tricks?"

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Amongst other things."

A brow quirked at the implications, and he grinned. It had to irk her not to know everything, and he kind of enjoyed being the one sitting with the information. "They also smuggle for Makarov, and they're his ears outside the city," he explained after a pause.

She snorted. "So they're spies? Who bootleg?" Her eyes were focused on Elfman and Natsu across the room as they helped rig a humongous banner across the back of the stage under Cana's direction – meaning, her shouted orders as she sat at the bar with a glass at her elbow.

"Pretty much."

"Is the magician-thing just an act then? It seems pretty exaggerated if it is," she remarked.

He snorted. "Started as a ruse, but he enjoys it too damn much," he said, nodding towards the man in question, who was busy speaking with the redhead.

A smile tugged at the shrimp's lips. "He seems pretty fond of Erza," she mused, raising a suggestive brow, and Gajeel almost rolled his eyes. Either it was a woman thing, or the barkeep had gotten into her head, but if she thought he was going to gossip like some kind of repressed housewife she had another thing coming.

"Lily said you don't like to gossip, so don't worry," she said then, surprising him. "I don't expect you to say anything – I was just stating what I observed. He's been talking to her since we came in."

His brows furrowed, and he turned his gaze on her. "You've been talkin' to Lily?"

Her smile was much too innocent. "Well, he did offer me a dance yesterday after you left me like a dead fish in the lounge," she said, as-a-matter-of-factly with a shrug of her small shoulders, shooting him a sideways look. It seemed she'd gotten over that situation pretty well. Hell, she hadn't given him half the shit he'd expected her to, but then again, she'd gone and done a lot of things he hadn't expected. And yeah, maybe it irked him that she hadn't been as easy to figure out as he'd first claimed, but that went straight onto the list of things he sure wasn't going to tell her any time soon. Probably never, as she struck him as the kind to never let him live it down if he did.

So in stead he did something he was more comfortable with – he teased.

"Taken a likin' to him, have you?" he asked.

She raised a brow – a challenge if he'd ever seen one. "He is nice. And well-mannered, and a good conversational partner. So yes, I have taken a liking to him," she said, with a shrug. "But not in the way you're suggesting, by the leer on your face."

"What leer?" he snorted.

She shot him a look, before turning her eyes back to the commotion in front of them. Part of the banner, bearing the slogan 'THE AMAZING SIEGRAIN' in bold letters – as if the ridiculous poster hadn't been enough – had fallen down, and by the hollering Cana was doing, someone had probably made a tear in it. Probably Natsu. Tch, idiot.

Shortstuff snorted, and it was damn unladylike, but part of him liked it, and the other part of him resented himself for that. "Not that it's any of your business, anyway," she muttered under her breath.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "What? Plannin' on leavin' me for someone else?" he mocked.

She stuck her hip out. It was mildly distracting. "Would you stop me if I did? I'd finally get out of your hair," she said, and it almost felt like she was testing the waters, although for what he had no idea.

He glared, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's my job – I do it whether I like it or not," was all he said in stead, and her eyes met his, and she held his gaze unwaveringly for several long moments. He glared back, daring her – to what, he didn't know, but it felt like a silent stand-off of some sort. Finally, she turned her eyes away, and damn him if he didn't see a hit of regret there, but what the hell she was thinking about was beyond him.

And it bothered him more than it damn well should.

"Yeah, you said that," she murmured under her breath, and he frowned, and was about to comment on it when she spoke again. "So does Lily have a family?" she asked, out of the blue, and he felt...something, clench tightly deep in his stomach.

"What's it to you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm just curious. I forgot to ask him yesterday, and he is your friend, so you should know."

Gajeel snorted. "For not bein' interested in 'the way I suggested' you sure as hell talk a lot about him."

"I wasn't aware I was not allowed to inquire about the people who frequent this place," she shot back.

"Don't hear you inquirin' about anyone else," he remarked, all the while wondering what the hell was up with him and the sour mood that had come over him. It couldn't be just the magician idiot and his annoying entourage, it felt...different than that kind of annoyance. Almost–

He stopped his train of thought. Hell no. He was not going there.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous," she said then, and he wanted to make her forcibly swallow the words. "But knowing you, that's just ridiculous. What, afraid Lily will make me his new confidante?" she mocked, turning the tables on him.

"I don't know," he snapped back, his glare fierce, "Wouldn't mind that, would ya?"

She threw her hands up. "What is up with you all of a sudden?" she asked. "Finally we're getting along and now you're acting like an ass again – did I say something? Is it about Lil–"

He stopped her with a glare, daring her to continue, but in stead of shrinking back she squared her shoulders, lifting herself to her full unimpressive height as he towered above her. "Don't get full of yerself, shortstuff," he said, voice a low rumble as it rolled off his tongue, as though pulled from a dark place. "Yer not the centre of everythin' here. Better get off yer high horse and get used to it."

Her eyes widened at that, anger flashing in them, and he knew the insult had hit it's mark, but he found no pleasure in it like he had when first meeting her. In stead there was a sour feeling in his stomach, but he pushed it down brutally, ignoring the implications it brought with it.

Inhaling deeply, she clenched her tiny hands into fists at her sides, before raising her chin and turning on her heel. "When you're ready to apologise, I'll be waiting," she said over her shoulder stiffly as she walked away and towards the crowd at the other end of the room, striding forward like she owned the damn place. Gajeel watched her go, anger simmering in every muscle as he clenched his hands, wanting very much to pummel something and feeling like going to the gym, but then maybe not, because Lily was probably there and for some reason he felt like pummelling him, too.

But he wasn't jealous.

There was just no way – not at Lily, his closest friend and partner, and not because of a pipsqueak of a woman like Levy McGarden. He had no appetite for and no patience with women like that – posh little things. They were from two completely different worlds – his the dark gutters of the Alleys, hers the gilded banisters of the mansions of the city's finer outskirts. They had nothing in common save an inclination for being stubborn, and so what if he found her attractive?

No, Gajeel Redfox did jealously as much as he did sympathy – meaning he just didn't. He didn't want her, and other than his job, he didn't need her for anything else than ensure his next paycheck. He just had a lot of pent up frustration from everything that was going on and from juggling two jobs that had both entailed more than the description had specified. He was just letting it get to him, that was all. He sure as hell wasn't jealous.

Was he?

"What's got that dark look on your face, my boy?"

The voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at his boss who had come over without him noticing. He had a way of doing that, and it was equal parts annoying as it was damn disconcerting, especially considering Gajeel's own training. But old geezer or not, Makarov wasn't to be underestimated, and Gajeel knew that better than most.

"Ate somethin' that disagreed with me," he remarked gruffly. Makarov snorted.

"You've always been a horrible liar."

"You always meddle too much."

Makarov grinned. "It's a father's duty to meddle in the lives of his children."

Gajeel rolled his eyes. "Still goin' on about that?"

Makarov shrugged, turning his eyes on the full establishment. No customers yet – they wouldn't arrive until eight. The ones present were Makarov's own children, young and old, the only one actually connected by blood being the blonde man sitting at a table in the corner with his faithful posse. "I will continue to do so until you come to terms with it," he said simply.

"And if I don't?"

Makarov smiled, and it was the same smile he had when he knew something other's didn't. "You will."

Gajeel snorted. "You're always so sure about that."

He grinned. "I have faith in my children," he said with a wink. "Especially my sons, however reluctant they are to be called that," he added, giving him a pointed look.

Gajeel said nothing to that, but didn't look at his boss/adoptive father. He still had issues with the latter term, and there were a whole lot of reasons for that, his own estranged father being a big part of it, but also the circumstances in which he'd come to be adopted in the first place.

His Pops had left him when he'd been just a brat – left him to handle the Alleys on his own with nothing to his name but an old rusty gun, and he wasn't even sure his old man had intended to leave that or if he'd just forgotten it and not bothered to come back for it. Nevertheless, he carried it with him most of the time – Lily called him sentimental, but it was more than that. He couldn't really explain it, but it was a feeling of loyalty, especially after Makarov had found him. Not that his Pops deserved it, but it felt important not to forget who his real father was, no matter how much Makarov had done and still did for him. And of course, that whole situation was complicated enough in its own right without Gajeel having to mix his real parentage into it.

It had started when he'd run with Jose and the Phantoms along with Juvia. He'd been sent to take care of a couple of local 'nuisances' – two of Makarov's brats. Jose had always had an issue with the old man, and with the success of his speakeasy as well as his legal business – and the fact that he ruled pretty much both the inner city and the Alleys – had been too much for the crazy idiot. 'Course, anyone who knew Makarov for what he was would stay clear of touching any of his children, but with a turf-war having broken out with a competing gang, Jose had been pretty damn desperate. And so Gajeel had been sent to do his dirty work, and being an idiot himself at the time, he'd thought he could just get his boss off his back by going after the Big Cheese himself.

Which had turned out to be the stupidest damn thing he'd ever done.

Makarov had gone easy on him, though – and the fact that he'd been near comatose as a result was still embarrassing as hell, but if the old man hadn't been the compassionate geezer he was, Gajeel would have been long dead for his impudence and recklessness. Long story short, he'd tried to assassinate him, and gotten his ass handed to him as a result. The old man had then dropped him on Juvia's doorstep, a bloodied mess, along with a lecture of what was important in life and the effects of running with the wrong people and yadda yadda, and somewhere during his speech Juvia had realized she wanted a new boss, and two days later she'd turned up and said she'd gotten them both new jobs and a new home. Safe to say, Jose hadn't been too happy, but a general rule in the Alleys was that if you had a problem with Makarov, you took it up with the man himself.

And if you knew what was good for you, you just didn't.

And so he'd found himself going from a world of lurking in the shadows, the personal hired gun of one of the largest crime lords in Magnolia's underworld, to smuggling booze for a speakeasy that took the term 'eccentricity' to a whole other level. But headaches or not – flaming idiots or not – he couldn't make himself regret it.

"Glaring will not make it go away, you know. I'd try talking to her if I were you."

He sighed. Alright, sometimes he regretted it a little.

"There ain't nothing to talk about, old man."

Makarov snorted. "I'm not blind, boy, and not deaf, either. I've heard the rumours."

Gajeel sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "What rumours?" he snapped. He'd pummel Lily to the bloody ground if he'd been flapping his gums.

Makarov smirked, shooting him a sideways look. "That you're a bit taken by your charge," he said with a shrug. "Not that it's much of a surprise. She is quite lovely."

Gajeel rubbed at his eyes. "Old man–"

"Do not toy with her, Gajeel," Makarov interrupted him, all humour suddenly gone from his expression, which had turned completely serious. Gajeel snorted.

"I said I'd keep her safe – that's all I bloody signed up for, and that's what I'm doin'," he grumbled, irritated at the damn liberty the old man was taking.

Makarov nodded, eyes trained on the crowd before them. "See that you do," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "She has a trusting heart, and I would hate to see it wasted where it is not wanted," he added, giving him a weighing look, as though looking for something to either confirm or refute his remark. Gajeel schooled his features into an unreadable look, arms crossed over his chest in defiance as he turned a glare on the older man.

"I'm doin' my job," he repeated, putting heavy emphasis on the phrase as he turned away. He needed a sharp drink. And a smoke.

"I don't believe the job description said anything about letting your jealousy get the better of you," Makarov called after him, voice a low rumble for Gajeel's ears only, and he stiffened as the words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn't turn around, only walked on towards the bar. He wasn't about to be lectured like an errant brat. He was more than old enough to known the consequences of his actions, and damn it all, his business was his bloody own!

"Heed my words, my boy," Makarov said at last, the warning ringing clear through the chatter and noise around them, like a knife cutting through butter.

Gajeel didn't turn around, but kept on walking towards the bar, shouting for a drink even as he approached. The barkeep eyed him, then the old man across the room, but complied without a word – but the look she shot him was nothing short of lecturing. No doubt she had every idea of what the boss had gone to speak to him about, but he wasn't about to hear it repeated from her, too. Accepting his drink, he turned around, eager to find a dark table and enjoy his alcohol in solitude, when he found himself facing a familiar grin that had him rolling his eyes.

"Gajeel!" Jellal greeted – too amiably, in Gajeel's opinion. They'd known each other a long time, and so the idiot always insisted on pleasantries. "How are you these days?"

He grunted. "Getting worse, it would seem," he muttered.

Jellal smirked. "Cynical as always."

He snorted. "Someone's gotta be – life's not magic tricks for all of us."

He winced in mock-hurt. "That stings, really. And you haven't even seen my new act," he said, and despite himself, Gajeel felt it was hard to despise the guy too much. Then again, it had never been the actual man he detested – it was the damn circus they made of the speakeasy every time he visited. It was like one enormous, never-ending headache. But he had no problem with Jellal himself – not really. And Lily liked the guy, having all but pulled him off the streets and raised him when he'd been a kid, abandoned by his father like Gajeel. He'd also been of the first Gajeel had met on his first time in the Pit, although he'd never been one for the ring himself. 'Course, that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Gajeel knew for a fact that the guy wasn't to be taken lightly in a fight, and out of Makarov's brats, he did have the biggest reputation. There had also always been an air of mystery around him – bull, if Gajeel was any judge. He probably just kept it up for the sake of his image as a magician, the flamboyant idiot.

"Lily said you were thinking of picking up the gloves again," Jellal said then. "Any fights scheduled while we're here? It's been a while since I've been to one."

Gajeel snorted. "Few rounds in the ring with Lil won't get me a fight – not yet at least," he said. Jellal nodded.

"You'd need a new promoter, wouldn't you? What happened to the last one?"

He shrugged. "Got in with the wrong crowd," he said. "Didn't hear back from 'im."

Jellal shook his head. "Happens all too often around here," he mused, before a smile stretched across his face. "I hear Lily is holding up well, though – several of his boxers have been scheduled for fights. Did you hear?"

He hadn't, but good for Lily – even if he was too damn cheeky for his own good sometimes. He shook his head, and Jellal shrugged. "Hopefully it's a sign that better times are coming. I hear there are things brewing with the boss' son."

Gajeel snorted, taking a sip from his drink. "There's always some shit brewing with him, but yeah, old man's got it up to his ears these days."

"Sounds like trouble," a voice purred next to his ear, and he turned a lazy eye on Ultear as she sidled up to them. "Long time no see, Gajeel Redfox."

He raised a brow, and she rolled her eyes. "Still not trusting me, huh? It's been nearly five years, you know."

He did know, but that didn't mean he'd trust her even if his life depended on it. During his days with Jose, Ultear had been one of the most dangerous assassins of his old boss' rival gang, Grimoire Heart. A turf war had broken out sometime right before Gajeel had left for Makarov and Fairy Tail, and it had been nothing short of a bloodbath. And the woman standing before him had been smack right in the centre of it all. And even if he'd turned over his own leaf, he was a suspicious bastard on the best of days, and wasn't about to let his guard down around a woman who knew the shadows better than even Juvia did. It was bad business.

He shot Jellal a look, but didn't say anything, and she crossed her arms over her chest, shooting a look towards something behind him. "So who was the pretty thing you walked in with, hmm? Haven't seen her around before. She new?"

He glared. "My new job," he growled, and a cat-like, calculating smile stretched across her face.

"Only that? Because I heard some fascinating rumours from Mira just now," she purred. Gajeel's eye twitched. Jellal looked between the two of them uneasily, shooting him a questioning look. "So why don't you enlighten me further?" she asked.

Gajeel downed his drink. "Keep a leash on your accessory," he growled at Jellal as he thrust his empty glass towards him, ignoring Ultear completely, before pushing past them, eager for a smoke and to get as far away from the knowing smile behind him as he could. His hands itched to hit something, and he wished for the ring and the release it brought. He hadn't felt this tense since his days with the Phantoms, and that was saying something.

Her voice was teasing as it called after him, "Someone's a little tense. Mira was right – you could use a woman in your life!" she laughed.

Gajeel pushed on through the crowd of people – actually physically pushing one idiot out of the way as he headed for the storage room at the back where he knew he would be able to smoke in peace. Why everyone was either intent on setting him up with the girl or warding him off was beyond him – people could keep to their own damn beeswax. He had his own, and it was complicated enough as it was without adding a damn romantic drama to it all.

Shutting the door behind him, he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it swiftly as he leaned against the wall, thankful for the muffled sounds and the solitude the little room offered. He often slipped inside during parties when the general mood of the speakeasy became too much, or when the old man was looking for him and he just needed a bloody break. It was as good as any a hiding place, and if he got to enjoy his smoke in peace for just a few minutes, that was good enough for him.

And as he stood there, shrouded in cigarette smoke, he found himself contemplating how he had gotten himself into the mess he was in. It seemed unbelievable that it was only a few days since he'd been ushered into the old man's office for his new job, but it was, and it was also the time when his life as he'd known it had ended and he'd been thrust into a situation that he didn't quite know how to handle. He didn't like being proved wrong, and she did that more than he cared to admit or cared to think about, and it was irking him that she'd somehow gotten under his skin without his notice or his permission. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gajeel tried to push his mind towards other things, other thoughts. Boxing, the ring, Ivan and all that bloody circus entailed, the next shipment of booze and if it had any good scotch...anything.

But all that he kept coming back to was a head of bright, bright blue hair and a pair of large brown eyes.

Damn it all.


He wasn't jealous.

Glaring at nothing in particular, Gajeel downed the remains of his third – fourth? – drink, feeling the liquid run down his throat but finding little pleasure in it. His fingers clenched around the glass in his hand. Beside him, Juvia leaned against the bar, a cigarette holder at her lips as she shamelessly stared at the Fullbuster-idiot sitting across the room, busy watching the show along with everyone else. The joint was packed to the brim – rumours had escaped about the night's planned event, and even more people than usual had showed up for the festivities. The tables had been pushed far back to make room for the stage, which loomed large beside the bar, draped in red and decorated with the ridiculously oversized banner. And below the banner, the magician himself was busy doing his tricks, his faithful assistants at his side, and by the sheer eagerness of the crowd, it was nothing short of a success.

Gajeel was nursing a pounding headache, and contemplating ordering his fifth glass.

"Is Gajeel okay?"

Deep blue eyes had momentarily left their desired scenery to regard him with a worried look. He snorted.

"Peachy keen," he ground out, brows furrowed in a glare. Following his gaze, Juvia's eyes softened.

"Juvia knows how Gajeel feels," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "Mr. Fullbuster is quite popular with the ladies," she offered as way of explanation, brows furrowing in a glare of her own.

"I ain't jealous," he grumbled.

She said nothing to that, and that made him angrier somehow. He inhaled deeply, placing his glass on the counter and shouting for another before stuffing his hands deep in his pockets. He wasn't jealous. It didn't bother him that she was speaking to Lily – shortstuff could speak to whomever she damn well pleased, it was none of his business. Not that he cared, either. Tch.

"Juvia thinks Gajeel should go over there if he wants to. Lily wouldn't mind."

He shot her a look, and she smiled in that damn knowing way of hers. "Juvia thinks Miss Levy likes Gajeel," she said with a shrug. Gajeel didn't say anything to that, but let his eyes wander back to the girl in question. She'd dolled herself up again, in a dark grey dress that was even shorter than the last one and decorated with an excessive amount of pearls that swayed distractingly when she moved. Not that he'd noticed or anything, tch. Her hair was like a damn signpost in the crowd where she sat at the table in the far back with Lily, talking and laughing like old friends. His brows furrowed further, and he grabbed his new drink when it was offered, taking a large mouthful and enjoying the buzz it left in it's wake. Juvia frowned.

"Juvia thinks Gajeel should take it slow," she said, eyeing his drink. He snorted.

"Woman, I can damn well hold my hooch," he snapped, and she raised a brow at his tone. He sighed, grumbling, "Sorry."

She shook her head, taking a drag from her cigarette. "It's alright. As Juvia said, she knows how Gajeel feels."

"I ain't feelin' anythin'."

She only shook her head, and the knowing smile on her face had him downing his drink.

The crowd broke out into a round of cheering as the trio finished their number, before beginning on a new one – this one requiring a lot of excessive flourishing and the installation of a few stage props. Gajeel only paid a half mind to what went on, as his eyes kept drifting to the back of the room and the blue head of hair. And as though feeling his gaze on her, she turned her head, and her eyes met his for a brief moment before she looked away, resting her chin on her hand as she smiled at something Lily said. Something dark unfurled behind his ribs.

So she was ignoring him, was she? He'd see about that.

Setting his empty glass down at the counter with more force than necessary, he strode away, leaving Juvia staring after him as he cut through the tables and seated customers towards the back, eyes never leaving the bright blue flicker of colour that kept drawing him towards it like a flame. His head swam a bit from the alcohol, and in a saner state of being he might have reconsidered his course of action, but he was a little too angry and a little too inebriated to give a fuck.

As he approached their table, Lily caught his gaze, and his brows shot into his hairline at whatever he saw on his face. "Oye," Gajeel greeted as he stopped beside them, throwing a shadow across the table and the small form sitting before him. Levy looked up, a brow raised, but said nothing.

A moment of silence followed where none of them said a word, before Lily cleared his throat. "Well, I'll got get another drink," he declared, rising to his feet and throwing Gajeel a questioning look as he passed, but Gajeel wasn't looking at him. When he was out of earshot, Levy rounded on him in her seat, brown eyes flashing.

"What is your problem?" she snapped, voice low to avoid the attention of those around them. He snorted.

"Should be askin' you that - you're the one actin' like I've got somethin' to apologize for."

She huffed. "You do have something to apologize for! Treating me like a spoiled brat when you know that's not who I am!" she hissed.

He raised a brow, and the words rolled off his tongue before they'd even reached his mental filter. "Whose to say I know anythin' about you?" he asked, placing the palm of his hand on the table and putting his weight on it as he leaned closer. By her nose scrunching up, he guessed she could smell the alcohol, but the thought was errant and gone as soon as it'd registered. Despite her obvious discomfort at his presence, her gaze held his, unflinching and honest.

"I told you everything," she said, voice low and words fervent. They had to be attracting a few stares, but he couldn't think clearly past the anger and the booze. Leaning even closer, to the point where she pulled away a bit, he snarled,

"Yeah? Well for all I bloody know, you invented everythin' for sympathy, Shorty."

He saw the slap coming even before he'd completed his sentence, but made no move to avoid it. It rang like a bell, cutting through the noise and the chatter, and a few surprised murmurs erupted around them at the scene. All the while she'd never taken her eyes off him, and as he turned his head he saw tears in them.

Then she pushed away from the table, her chair scraping loudly across the hardwood floor, before she turned on her heel and stormed off for the back door, leaving him in her wake. Around him the show went on, and only a few of the nearby audience were still looking at him – the others having turned their attention back to the stage when it was clear there wasn't going to be more of a spectacle.

But Gajeel was far from finished.

Pushing the chair out of the way, he stalked after her, anger fuelling him as well as the alcohol in his system. The rusted back-door swung open under his strength as he pushed it, the hinges shrieking at the unexpected force, and then he was outside. The night was cold, and it crashed against him as he stepped out and into the alleyway. It cut through his shirt and to the marrow of his bones, but he barely noticed.

"Oye, midget!"

"Leave me alone!"

She hadn't gotten far, as he'd expected, and spun around at his appearance, brows furrowed and stance defiant. Like a small fox cornered by a wolf, she kept her distance but didn't back down. She had no jacket on, he noted briefly, and she had seemingly left her shoes inside, because she was clad only in stockings and shivering like a leaf on the cold cobblestones, damp from a late shower of rain. He might have scoffed at her and told her to put her damn shoes on before she caught the flu and kicked the bucket, but anger was still simmering in his stomach like stubborn embers in a never-dying fire, and he wasn't thinking clearly. Stepping closer, he noted with a hint of perverse satisfaction that she backed away quickly, fear flashing in her eyes.

"Gajeel, I'm serious–"

"What?" he asked, cutting her off as he stepped closer still, and she backed away until her back was against the wall behind her. The fox was trapped with no way to escape.

Her eyes held his, but the tears hadn't fallen, and she was keeping her shoulders straight and her head up stubbornly, no doubt trying to look brave, but he could tell his attitude was putting her off. And even knowing this, he couldn't seem to stop – couldn't seem to muster the sense to just back the hell away before he did something he'd regret in the morning. Stepping so close that there was barely any space between them – almost as close as he'd been when he'd tried teaching her to hold a gun in the warehouse – he leaned down so his face was close to hers. "You're serious, Shorty?" he asked, voice a low rumble in his throat. "About what? About avenging yer old man? What else?"

She glared. "I'm not tolerating this," she snapped. "Don't patronize me! If you have a problem, tell me what it is in stead of mocking me!"

He didn't say anything, and she drove on, gaining confidence when he wasn't pushing relentlessly. "Is it about Lily?" she asked. "Because–"

"It ain't fuckin' about him!"

"Then what is it?!"

His hand was on her throat before the words had completely left her tongue, fingers slipping up the back of her neck to where her hair curled, and her breath hitched loudly in her throat as she read his intentions, but she made no move to push him away. Her wide eyes held his, surprise and just a sliver of fear in them – enough to have his blood thrumming in his veins, and he could feel it thundering in his ears as he leaned in. And suddenly, he knew exactly what his problem was – knew why he was so damn angry and why he felt like tearing off any available limb on whatever idiot found it prudent to capture her attention.

"Gajeel..."

Her breathing had turned almost laboured, and there was an air of anticipation around her that almost had him smirking. She didn't say anything else, but her eyes continued to hold his, and her tongue flicked out to lick her lower lip almost nervously as she pressed herself further into the wall behind her. Her small form felt like it had during their brief time in the warehouse – pliant, shivering, like it could be undone with just the right touches in the right places, and he felt a surge of anticipation and raw lust from deep within his stomach at the thought. Goosebumps had risen on her exposed skin, and her chest heaved, making the beads on her dress clink softly, and the fingers of his free hand flexed as he brought it up to the other side of her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and the smell of alcohol was a heady thing between them, fuelling him further. Leaning in until his nose almost touched hers, he felt her intake of breath more than heard it, and–

The clatter of something a little ways off and the surprised yell that followed had him pulling back sharply, dead sober and on full alert in an instant, the hand cradling the back of her head ready to reach for his knife.

"S-sorry! We didn't–I didn't– Sorry for intruding! We didn't see anything, really! W-we'll just go past quickly and you-you can continue what you were doing!" a man's voice called from somewhere further down the alley, and at the shout, the woman in his grip gasped, her previously hooded eyes flying wide open in surprise and recognition. Gajeel was about to ask what the hell they were creeping around for when they came into the open, the light from the upper-story window cast out across the cobblestones revealing the sheepish and embarrassed faces of two young men – one lanky and one large and pudgy, both oddly dressed.

Upon seeing them up close, however, the sheepish grins vanished, replaced by abject surprise and equal horror, and they gaped at the small woman caught in his arms, partly hidden by his much larger form but no doubt easily recognized by her hair – a vibrant burst of colour in the otherwise dingy alleyway.

"Levy?!"


AN: I love messing with these guys, almost as much as Mashima does, the troll. And of course they had to make an appearance – you can't have Fairy Tail without Shadow Gear.