A quick note, in this mixed world, Roman Candle fireworks will shoot out one shot instead of the multiples that they actually do. I just couldn't have them standing around waiting for all the shots to go off, but needed a cheap, accessible flare. So at some point, in this crazy alternate universe, the inventor of Roman Candles decided to be less awesome and make them go off once. So just to stave off any comments on it, don't get all up on me about it, you firework enthusiasts! I know it's not accurate. Clearly.
Now, buckle up. Shit gets real this chapter.
The Bonfire Jump was a warzone. From the moment Macao had dropped his icy shot glass down Jura's briefs it had been a free for all brawl. Jura had thrown a right hook at Macao. Macao had ducked. Rufus had gotten Jura's fist to the face and fallen toward Jet, who jumped out of the way, running into Rocker. Rocker had grabbed and thrown Jet over the bonfire, hitting Macao,who had completed the jump in the confusion and had just lit his Roman Candle. The Roman Candle was knocked from his hand and went off across the yard, heading straight to the pool, where the primarily female water polo "riders" jumped off their male partners' shoulders to take cover under water. The sparking firework hit a patch of decorative grass near the fence and caught into a small fire. Freed strode calmly toward the growing fire with the Safety Bucket-a bright red bucket kept full of sand in the backyard at all times according to house rules, established after the Great Fairy Tail Fire of '98-and promptly smothered it. The rest of the challengers had already taken off for campus, trying to get to their set destinations before the bonfire challengers could finish competing. All but Bacchus, who was wading out of the pool where Minerva had shoved him in.
Meanwhile, Jet, realizing he had technically completed the challenge, grabbed a Roman Candle from Romeo and set it off into the sky, jumping the fence around the yard with ease. With a cocky grin, he took off running.
Fuck running.
The wind whipped past Cana's bare skin, chilling the sweat that was beginning to bud across her shoulders, down her cleavage, and under her breasts as they bounced insistently all over the fucking place. Honestly, she and the other bitch had it harder than any of these boys would ever know. Running with massive tits was the worst.
Though, there were a lot of loose boxers riding low on hips, and without the support of an athletic cup, the guys probably weren't doing much better. Plus, they had to watch her tits trying to kill her, which, as demonstrated by Baywatch, apparently had more sex appeal than what it felt like.
Cana grinned and increased her speed a bit.
In that case, thank the gods for decent lingerie and bring on the running!
She and her other busty competitor were running in a pack of men, heading en masse toward campus. A few had broken off to go a different way, but for the most part they all seemed to have the same idea, cover the few blocks to campus and then break up to head to their set destinations. She was headed to the culinary building, hoping it would be a drinking challenge. If it was, she had this in the bag. If not, she had a backup plan.
As the pack of mostly naked sprinters reached campus, they disjointedly broke into groups by necessity, heading toward their various endpoints. Cana grinned as she saw who her direct competition would be: Natsu, the basic bitch (her new nickname for her fellow female competitor...she seriously had the worst case of resting bitch face she had ever seen), much further behind them an average dude with unforgettable features, and a taller, heavier guy who had apparently stubbed his toe on a rock as they took off, swearing heavily (and creatively) about the stupid rock as tears streamed down his face. Admittedly, he was keeping up pretty well with his limping gallup.
Until they heard what their challenge was, she didn't know what kind of disadvantages she might have, so she kicked on another burst of speed, matched by Natsu immediately. It couldn't hurt to be there sooner and have time to get her bearings, so she grabbed her boobs to keep them from bouncing so damn much and ran full out. She and the pinkette bared their teeth at one another in identical manic grins as they left the pack behind, Basic Bitch hot on their heels.
Freed, standing next to the pile of sand and ashes with his empty bucket, watched as the remaining bonfire jumpers eventually completed the challenge, set off a Roman Candle, and taking off running. He whipped out his phone and keyed in the update to his earlier text to Erza Patrol.
change of plans. we're meeting at the fountain first. still think u won't make it?
The green-haired hipster hit send and took a sip of his craft beer, cringing at the abbreviation he had used. It was necessary to keep Erza off their tail, but got under his skin. He looked around the joyful chaos around him. Not a bad turnout overall, he thought, pulling his long silky hair into a ponytail out of the way. It was probably one of the best parties they had thrown yet.
He just wished Laxus were there. The stoic Russian exchange student had been banned from frat events. Which was understandable considering the incident that had led to his expulsion from the house. But Freed still missed his sarcastic jokes. Maybe he would text him later. His phone vibrated in his hand, showing a message from Mystogan. Freed's eyes went wide behind his thick framed rectangular glasses and he looked frantically around for Romeo. He needed a walkie talkie and he needed one now.
I could b joining u after all. With a friend. A DRUNK friend. Tell the guys.
Where the hell was Romeo?!
Gajeel and Orga were the first two to arrive at the English building from the back side, circling it in a comfortable jog side by side until they saw a couple of Fairy Tail members waiting next to a long strip of wide sidewalk, the area already getting dark, but lit ambiently by the spotlights surrounding the massive nearby fountain. Neither could believe they had beaten the rest, considering that, of the group competing, they were the only ones who were not at any point MU students. That was part of why they had chosen this destination. Everyone in Magnolia recognized the sight of the imposing original first building of the school, with it's impressive fountain and open lawn, and knew where to find it. The two burly men grinned at each other and slapped a high five. Coincidentally the two were sort of friends. After a rather awkward encounter while singing in the gym showers years ago, they had discovered their mutual love of karaoke and got together to hit the bars once a month.
As they got closer, Gajeel could see that there were two shopping carts and a selection of different sized orange construction cones parked next to the Fairy Tail reps. He grinned wolfishly. He couldn't wait. Salamander (Natsu's boxing name and what pretty much everyone at the gym called him, for reasons no one remembered) had clued him in on what to expect.
They would be shopping cart jousting. That was the other reason Natsu had suggested he come to this challenge. He had invented the sport with Natsu, Gray, and Erza when they were kids, in the grocery store parking lot near the gym. Of course those guys had immediately passed it on to Fairy Tail when they joined. A bunch of guys with free time and a parking lot? Perfect shopping cart jousting conditions.
A shout off to his left drew Gajeel's attention just as he and his fellow gym rat came to a halt by the fountain. Dashing across the long grassy space, the last three challengers-a guy with spiky orange hair, Gray's cousin, and a huge dude(a few meters behind them)-were making steady progress toward the fountain.
Leon and Loke arrived within seconds of each other, and the barreling giant, who had painted his face blue and white in remembrance of his fallen guild Quatro Cerberus (may it rest in peace) ran up shortly after, winded.
The whole group took a moment to breathe, and eye Gajeel's tattoos, something they had all noticed briefly before they took off running. It was kind of hard not to, as they covered a pretty huge majority of his legs and torso. Some were just simple black stripes, sporadically thrown in around the full colored and shaded illustrations that featured different mythical creatures; a centaur poised ready to fire an arrow on his calf and a basilisk wrapped around his other leg, glaring out from his thigh. Various smaller creatures were scattered amongst the forest that filled in around each creature. On his back a massive chimera did battle with an armored dragon, in the rain, while across his shoulders a black panther lounged above it all. The only tattoos on his arms were a double band of black stripes around his left wrist, and a single word below them, ENDURE.
"Sweet tats," the hulking blue-and-white faced ex-Quat Cerb offered, the others nodding in agreement. Gajeel grinned and took advantage of the moment.
"You guys ever feel like getting some ink, come by my shop, Black Steel, I'll give you a deal."
Loke stole Simon's pen, writing down the name of the tattoo parlour on his arm, and tucking it behind one ear out of habit. Leon looked intrigued, ready to ask a question, when a flash caught their attention.
The first Roman Candle lit up the sky, followed some time after by three more, in succession.
Then one of the guys standing by the shopping carts stepped and started talking with slightly crooked smile.
"Alright guys, I'm Simon, and I will be your cruise director for this portion of the journey. You guys are going to be Shopping Cart Jousting. Your jousting order will be determined by whose team members reach us first. Mickey and I will be pushing everyone's carts, to keep it fair. The first person to get three hits of the cone to their opponent or to knock him from the cart wins and will receive a head start to the next event. The loser will joust with the next arriving member's teammate, and so on, leaving for the next leg once you have won or there are no more opponents," explained Simon, pausing to gesture to the tray of shots his associate held. "Each of you will take your shot when your team member arrives. Which will be soon, because the bonfire jumpers are on their way." With those last words, he pointed behind them across the green where four vaguely human shapes had appeared, knocking into one another as they trampled the grass and tried to avoid the bigger holes with their bare feet.
"Man, they sure are slow, aren't they?" came a voice from behind them. Reaching up and thumping his helmet onto Gajeel's head before he could so much as turn around, Jet grinned and dashed towards the rest of the contestants across the green, heading back to Fairy Tail. They faltered when he passed through them, and he laughed at their gaping mouths.
Gajeel grinned and grabbed a shot from the tray. Throwing the grape flavored beverage back, he approached the line of cones, selecting the longest, heaviest one, and went to the blue-handled shopping cart, ready to face his opponent. The powerful liquor created a nice warmth in his belly. And then he waited for the specks in the distance to decide his challenger.
The sound of static on a walkie talkie crackled from Simon's belt, a harbinger of what was to come.
Levy waved Droy back into the first bedroom adjoined by the bathroom she was standing in, wearing one of Droy's extra shirts over her dress. It enveloped her down to her knees. Closing the door and tying the string she held to the door knob, she laced it carefully through the holes in an upside-down toiletries basket, tied the other end to the closed door of the room on the other side and laced it back through the basket to tie it off to the first door. Very carefully, wiggling her bare toes against the surprisingly clean tile floor, she balanced as many paper cups full of hair gel, shaving cream and pretty much any other messy substance she could find on her makeshift platform. Backing away slowly, her hands held up before her to shield her should the flimsy contraption collapse in her direction suddenly, she carefully went to the vent in the wall where she had removed the grate and crawled in.
Just as she entered the narrow shaft, she felt a burn in her throat and a fire in her belly. Gajeel had taken a shot of something. She took a moment to concentrate on it, rolling her tongue around her mouth, questing for flavor. For a moment, she thought she tasted grape, but then it was gone and she recalled where she was. Putting the grate back in place behind her and wiggling her way through the dusty tunnel to the other end, she was helped out into the hallway by Droy, who pushed the pressure fitted vent cover back into place while she stripped off the filthy shirt that had protected Levy's borrowed dress. She arranged her luxe garment to fall in all the right places again where it had been mussed, and fluffed her hair, just as Jet came up the stairs behind her, still only wearing his green plaid boxers.
"Levy?! When did you get here?" She turned and he noticed what she was wearing. He swallowed dryly. "Wow. That is some dress." He cleared his throat and, feeling something stirring where it absolutely could NOT right now, quickly tried to think of something else. Anything else.
"Thanks Jet! Is the race over now?! Is that why you're back?" Levy asked eagerly, thinking of her boyfriend.
"Nah, just my part. Now it's Natsu's friend's turn. He'll be doing the jousting section," Jet said, only half paying attention to what he was saying as he imagined Droy naked. Instantly his arousal disappeared. Worked every time.
"Which friend? Gajeel?!" she said, a little too zealously. Jet raised an eyebrow, careful to focus on only the blunette's face. She had a ringlet falling into her eyes. He longed to reach out and move it.
"Maybe? He's got a ton of black hair and an insane number of tattoos."
"Yeah, that's Gajeel! Come on! Let's go watch in the basement!" exclaimed Levy as she raced past the boys, scooping up her heels where she had taken them off and leaping down the stairs by twos and threes.
Jet took a moment to eye Droy, taking in the duffel bag full of prank stuff and his dusty extra t-shirt slung over one arm.
"What the fuck have you two been up to?" he asked suspiciously. Droy grinned.
"Wouldn't you like to know? Come on, we're losing her. She's going down into a basement full of drunk gamblers. Dressed like that." Droy immediately set off toward the staircase. Jet followed, quickly overtaking him.
"Shit, you're right!"
Erza was born to catch punks like this guy. He had forced himself on enough girls unable to stop him. Let him just try that shit with her.
Keeping her inner fury hidden behind a bright smile, she went to the bar, "accidentally" tripping over a few chairs on her way. Glancing around as though she was worried who had seen her being clumsy, she saw that the pervert's eyes were locked on her.
Target acquired.
She went up to the bar and waved to the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgement as he finished mixing a drink for someone at the other end of the bar. So she waited, leaning back against the bar. She had slid her pleated skirt a little lower on her hips and tied the bottom of her shirt at the waist before crossing the bar, exposing a healthy, glowing amount of skin.
Hook baited.
It only took a moment for the dark-haired pervert to vacate his corner and come to see if the bait was worth a nibble. He leaned next to her, casually raking his eyes over her body, lingering on her chest and hips.
Hooked. Disgusting pervert.
When Sideburns finally came to take her order, Bora cut her off before she could speak.
"I'd like to buy this beautiful lady a glass of Moon Drip if you please, bartender." Erza raised an eyebrow, feigning interest while she fantasized castrating him with one of her blades. So many knives to choose from...
Encouraged by the small smile on her face, he took a step closer, leaning towards her.
"You wouldn't happen to be a fan of yachts, now would you?" he said with a skeezy grin.
Wow, he really had no game whatsoever. This was beyond easy. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she picked up the drink the bartender set in front of her and threw it down, enjoying the sweet grape flavor. She smiled at him and managed a quick "Let's go," before the wave of dizziness hit her. Wow, that stuff really packed a punch. Bora put his hand on the small of her back, rubbing the skin exposed there lightly. She resisted the urge to rip his arm off. Barely. By reminding herself why she had to stick it out.
If he actually had a yacht, who knew what could be on board? At the very least, probably evidence that he had assaulted other women, at the most, a sex trafficking ring. She wasn't ruling anything out. So, starting to feel a little bit unsteady with that grape thing on top of the two cosmopolitans she had imbibed while waiting, she let him guide her out of the bar, briefly locking eyes with Mystogan before allowing herself to be herded out.
He subtly got up and followed them, keeping a good amount of distance between himself and the redhead's escort. They had just made it to the marina, and were almost home free, when Bora took his own life into his hands and reached down to take a handful of Erza's ass. And then everything went sideways.
Literally. Because by now, the Moon Drip was coursing through her system and with a whole glass, even the stoic and controlled Erza Scarlet couldn't remain sober or upright. Hell, she was drunk off her ass. The ass that maggot had just gotten a handful of. For a moment, she froze, her mind flashing back to the fucker who had destroyed her childhood, his bony hands holding her down while he...WHICH WAS WHY NOBODY FUCKING TOUCHED HER! NEVER AGAIN!
And, whipping out a switchblade for each hand, one from her cleavage again and one from the holster strapped to her thigh, she lashed out.
And would have done some serious damage...if she could see straight.
Luckily for Bora, she was seeing three of him and couldn't figure out which one to aim at. Shifting one leg back to try and balance her drunken equilibrium, her foot slid too far, over the edge of the dock they stood on. Flailing her arms, Erza struggled not to fall into the water.
Not even noticing Bora run back past him, Mystogan raced toward the falling redhead.
As time seemed to slow in his own tipsy haze, he tried to think back to where it all went south.
With outstretched fingers, he made it barely in time to catch the flailing arm that still clutched a mother-of-pearl-handled blade. His other came up automatically to her bare waist, to get a better grip and keep her from falling. Little did he know, that was the absolute worst thing he could have done at that moment.
Her eyes went wild and she lashed out, catching him across the forearm with one sharp-edged weapon. Then she pushed away, holding her blades between them, frantically blinking and shaking her head as she stared at him. And then her eyes changed, immediately filling with tears, the knives dropping from her fingers to the wood of the dock. One rolled to a stop while the other stuck, blade barely sunk into the damp wood. A whimper left her mouth as she stared at him and uttered one heartbreaking word:
"Jellal?"
Looking back it was obvious where they had fucked up.
Between watching Gildarts squash the competition on behalf of Cana in the inflatable sumo ring and commentating on the relay progressing on the screens covering one wall of the massive room, Max was living the dream. A shot of Moon Drip in one hand, and a rum and Coke in the other, he was prepping for the start of the Jousting. He had made up a little drinking game for himself and the spectators. Every time someone fell on their face, they drank. Every time Gildarts said something about being proud of his daughter, they drank. And every time the challengers got into a fight with one another, you took a shot of Moon Drip. The Bonfire incident had almost wiped them out of the basement's supply of Moon Drip, resulting in an even higher average level of intoxication for everyone involved.
The Body-Shot Bitches were all set up on a table off to the side, doing what they did best, while the rows of couches, with spectators draped across them in every configuration, separated them from the makeshift sumo ring on the other side of the room. Along the longest wall of the room, stretching to cover almost the entire surface, was one of the most magnificent things Max had ever seen. More than a dozen flat screen TVs, of all sizes, were patchworked onto the wall, several hung, but a whole row sitting on furniture, surrounding the massive television screen that Max had grown accustomed to knowing as The Beast during his stay at the house. The Beast displayed the current rankings, with Team Natsu in first place, Team Fucking Awful in second, Team Wild Card in third, and then Teams Quatro Cerberus (may it rest in peace) and LOVE tied for last. To the right of the rankings, finding more than enough room on the massive display, were the betting odds. These flickered and changed as fast as Sho could update them, sitting at a computer next to the wall. Their stand in bookie, Wally, hamming up the part in a fedora and cheap suit, was surrounded by bet placers, feeding Sho what to enter in as he collected money, IOUs and various promises or agreements. They were trying to get most bets in writing. But spontaneous bets were also being declared to the room and accepted or rejected, then recorded by Sho. So far the bets were small and general. But, the night was still young.
To the right, the screens were each labeled with a team's name, a quick note in black marker on notebook paper taped to the corresponding screen. To the left of the electronic scoreboard, several screens showed images from different angles of the progress of the water polo, the current focus of most of the bets in the room, though as the images on the screens on the right of The Beast moved from Fairy Tail's backyard to glimpse the challengers at the fountain in front of the English building, the bets came flying in.
"Ten Jewels say Orga wins it!"
"A week's worth of dish duty says it's Semmes! He's huge!"
"I bet anyone two articles of clothing that Loke will pull this out."
"I'll take that bet!"
"Oh come on! Gajeel's got this in the bag! Team Natsu for the win! 20 JEWELS!"
"Who's Gajeel? The tattooed guy?"
"No way, Leon never loses! That guy's a machine!"
Max pondered his choices. So many factors to consider. Just as he was about to shout out his bet to Wally, he stumbled forward, almost knocked over by a blue-haired pixie of a girl shoving her way past him to the front of the crowd. Reconsidering his bet as he eyed her vibrant locks, he yelled out above the crowd,
"Team Natsu wins it all, or I dye my hair blue!"
The crowd cheered and quickly jumped on the bandwagon, shouting out crazy hair bets as fast as Sho could type them. Max grinned and took a sip of his mixed drink. He loved being a trendsetter. The blue-haired girl piped up, her voice twice her size as she intoned,
"I bet ONE HUNDRED JEWELS that Gajeel wipes the floor with him in ONE HIT!" The crowd cheered again, always enthused at a long shot bet. Levy just smiled smugly. Gajeel wouldn't let him land a hit. Not when she was on the line.
Focusing back on the screens Max grabbed up his mic again and began the play-by-play.
"Alright guys, betting for this run is closed! Gajeel vs. Orga in the jousting tourney is about to begin! The big one to watch for people? A hundred Jewels riding on just this first run! Will he make this lovely lady's dreams come true, destroying Orga in one hit, or will he drain her loyal pocketbook! To review, the winner is the first to land three hits or knock the other guy from the cart. This should be a good match! They are evenly weighted and pretty tough. Ok, here we go, first run and-HOLY SHIT GAJEEL LEVERED HIM RIGHT OUT OF THE CART! Orga didn't even land a hit! The blue-haired fairy princess wins the pot! At five to one odds, our big spender walks away with 500 BIG ONES!"
Levy whooped with the crowd and yelled into the air,
"That's MY BOYFRIEND BITCHES! GAJEEL FOR THE WIN!"
Jet and Droy, standing about ten feet behind her, froze before turning to each other with horrified looks. When the FUCK had that happened?!
Natsu felt weird.
The Moon Drip shot he had taken, plus the running, could explain it. The alcohol pulsed in his head, but on top of that he felt a thrumming in his bones; the feeling of a sub-woofer rewriting his body's vibrations.
Actually, that was exactly it. Concentrating on just that feeling, Natsu was able to hear loud repetitive music, with tons of bass. Fuck. His hazy brain took it's time, but it finally figured it out.
The Weirdo was at a club.
What the fuck did she think she was doing? He was about to get massively plastered, and her through him, and she had left the safety of her home?! He just hoped she wasn't alone. The thought of her drunk and alone in a club surrounded by horny bastards made his skin itch. Who knew what kind of perverts were out there waiting for her! Sometimes the things she said, made her seem so...fragile?...sheltered?...out of touch with the world? He guessed that last one was the closest. But they had agreed on a plan, hadn't they? What had happened to the plan?! He thought she was going to play it safe and stay in tonight!
Don't get him wrong, she was certainly entitled to a night out or whatever the fuck she wanted, but she seemed too practical to do it tonight, of all nights. Especially after his warning. They still had no idea how the bond would react to that much alcohol. He thought his warning had gotten through, but that whole conversation was fuzzy now...maybe something had changed…. What had changed?
Oh gods, he hoped she wasn't doing this because of something he had said. He had been drunk and in a hurry to warn her before he couldn't write coherently anymore, maybe something had come off the wrong way. He struggled to put the memory of their conversation together...he had apologized...for the fact that he might accidentally sleep with someone...which wasn't the best thing to say, but not exactly insulting...and then she had offered to...Fuck, had she really offered that?...which he had totally not taken her up on! So that couldn't be it...but then she had said something about going out and getting laid and about being a virgin and then...SHIT! He hadn't meant to imply that she had to stay a virgin! That she wasn't allowed to have sex if she wanted to. That wasn't what he had meant at all!
Did she really think that of him? That he thought she only deserved to sit at home while he had all the fun? He didn't want to think that he came off that way. But this whole thing was crazy! He had tried so hard to be considerate of her. He had stopped fighting. He had tried to keep her in the loop. Fuck he had even chosen the challenge that was least likely to get her hurt! Did she realize how important she was? Christ, was that really the problem? Had he goaded her into this without intending to? He had only meant he didn't want her to feel forced into a decision she didn't want because of him. But he had been so drunk. Maybe it hadn't come out right? He wished that he could remember for sure! This was all so godsdamned confusing. Maybe it would be easier to understand if he hadn't had so much fucking Moon Drip. His head was spinning.
Sitting on the ground outside the culinary building he rested his head on his knees. Why did she have to do this right now?! He didn't have his phone, he didn't have a pen, and he couldn't even leave to find one, when his challenge could be called-up at any moment. He tore out the grass around him in frustration. He had never wanted a writing utensil so much in his life.
A pair of long, feminine legs wandered into his field of vision and settled next to him. In the last few minutes of standing around in their underwear, he had discovered that Cana was pretty cool for a girl. Honestly, she seemed more like one of his wilder fraternity brothers. But he couldn't say he was surprised. With Gildarts for a father, how could she not be awesome? Not quite as awesome as Gildarts, but still, definitely worth bringing his A game to this competition. Sting's challenge had itched until he had to scratch it, knowing he could beat him. Cana's burned like a real challenge always did for him. That tiny spark of curiosity kindled into a drive to win; wondering if he would be enough to measure up.
"What are you fucking brooding about?" she queried off-hand, ruffling his hair a little. Natsu lifted his head, the alcohol making itself known as his equilibrium swam for a second, to see her digging a tiny bottle of booze out of her cleavage. Apparently Moon Drip wasn't enough. Distracted for a second by the sequins winking at him from her bra, Natsu shook his head and focused on her face while she downed the bottle. What the FUCK? How was she not dead yet?
"Shit, maybe you should slow down. You've still got another shot of Moon Drip coming and the gods only know how long a run left," he commented. She just turned to him and smirked before replying.
"That's really cute of you to worry, but thank the gods we've got another shot of that stuff coming! At least it gets me tipsy. Nothing else I've tried even comes close. I'm actually more of a beer girl when I'm at home, but they just won't make beer in these handy little bottles!" she said, tossing the bottle towards the trashcan sitting outside the building. "No matter how many times I've written to ask them." She almost made the shot, the wee plastic replica of an Everclear bottle bouncing off the rim and into the grass. Minerva kicked Todd, the completely forgettable bystander who had somehow gotten roped into this game by Leon, and he hurried to pick it up and throw it away. Natsu frowned in their direction; Minerva seemed to have a particularly nasty mean streak.
"Didn't figure you for the eyeliner type," Cana continued, staring at his face. "Not that it's a bad look. I would definitely use brown in the future though, it would go better with your hair…"
Natsu just stared back at her for a second trying to decipher the code she was speaking in. Why would he be wearing eyeliner? He brought a finger up and swiped at the corner of his eye, looking at his finger in shock when it came away with a smear of black.
What the-HOLY FUCKING MARS BARS! OF COURSE! That confirmed it: he knew the Weirdo was mad at him now. They had agreed on the no makeup thing ages ago. This was her own personal passive aggressive brand of revenge. Shit. He really fucking needed to find a mother FUCKING PEN.
"Thanks for the advice. You don't happen to have a pen in that magical cleavage of yours do you?" Natsu was getting desperate. His drunk mind convincing him that if he looked at the area around him enough, a writing utensil would eventually appear. His head swiveled in all directions, accomplishing nothing but making him really dizzy.
"Nope. I've got my phone, a couple more bottles of Everclear, and a condom though. The condom's all yours. You just say the word!" she responded with a leer and a chuckle. He laughed with her, partly in amusement over her suggestion, but mostly at the ridiculousness of his own situation.
He was getting propositioned by a hot girl, that he thankfully didn't seem to want to fuck, even drunk, while the one he wanted to be with at that exact moment more than anything went out to a party-while he inadvertently got her smashed-just to spite him for shit, that sort of wasn't even his fault.
Oh and she still wouldn't tell him her name. Or anything about her except that they were linked. And apparently horny for each other.
Wait, could this about the boobs in his face earlier? Maybe she had felt it...and jumped to conclusions. But then it's not like it hurt or anything, she would really only have a reason to be mad if she had a thing for him. His stomach did a happy little flip at the possibility. He was confused for a millisecond, out of habit. His guffawing got more manic until he was laying on his side laughing uncontrollably.
Why bother to lie to himself anymore, he drunkenly reasoned through the giggles, wrapping his arms around his quivering abdomen as the cool blades of grass below his bare skin tickled at him. He fucking liked her. A lot. Like more than anyone he'd ever met. Like maybe even loved her. And he hadn't even met her yet! Could anything be more ridiculous? Seriously? Why couldn't he just fall in love with one of the hundreds of girls at the party tonight? Surely one of them was cool and pretty enough to work out.
His laughter got worse, turning into a sort of wheezing, breathless, almost painful spasm. Because that is exactly what he had thought freshman year. And then he had spent months fucking around and getting nowhere and finding few who interested him enough to even ask out, and less that wanted to stick around when they got to know him. So he just screwed them and moved on. That's all they ever seemed to want anyway. To fuck the Salamander of Fairy Tail.
But she was different. AND she had never made fun of his hair. NOT ONCE. She was just so….nice! Like all the time. Even now, when she was clearly pissed at him, her revenge was to put on eyeliner and go dancing. Seriously. That was it. That was as far as her mind went into the ocean that was cruelty. She couldn't even stick in a toe, she just sort of waved her foot over the water and thought about what it would be like to step in. That's how fucking good she was. Because, there were so many things she could have done to him through their skin to hurt or embarrass him.
And he would deserve it, looking at it from her point of view. She had probably been texting all night, without him answering, which she wouldn't know was his fault, eventually sending that message on his arm, which he hadn't even noticed had disappeared, and then she had probably felt some girl's boobs in her face, and maybe heard Mira, and jumped to the conclusion that he was doing that shit on purpose. And then the Fireball and the shots...fuck.
He was damn lucky she was so damn nice. Because if he had felt the things she did, with the way he felt about her...he'd be tearing shit apart. There had to be a way to reach her. SOMEHOW. He thought about scratching up his own arm...but that would have hurt her.
"DOES ANYBODY HAVE A FUCKING PEN?!"
Elfman caught the GoPro Helmet that Gajeel threw to him, turning past the antsy other relay team members still waiting for their pass-off, and grabbed a shot from the tray. Taking the shot and securing the helmet he stood at the top of the stairs and prepared himself.
In Fairy Tail basement, everyone leaned forward to see what was going on through his GoPro. None of the other contestants had gotten one from their teammate yet, so they were limited on views. And then just as they saw the rep light something and plug his ears, the Team Awful camera came up over the stairs and caught a perfect view of the challenge. Standing braced in front of the library, an ear-piercing high pitched squeal went off as a bottle rocket went straight into Elfman's chest, the only movement from him, turning his head at the last minute, assumedly to protect his face should it go awry. That turned his head in the direction of Orga, which gave the audience a great view of Loke racing up and overtaking Orga. Elfman quickly grabbed his Roman Candle and shot it off, running, onto the next challenge, but fanning his slightly burned bare chest as he went. The other cameras showed dozens of faces appearing in the library windows checking out what the sound could be.
And suddenly Levy was bursting through the crowd again, Gajeel in tow this time, to get a better look at a particular window on the third floor. Waving her tiny fist drunkenly at the screen she yelled,
"Get the FUCK out of my secret Bookworm base you kopile of a footlicking hosenscheisser! Before I go Count of Monte Cristo on your ILLITERATE ASS and FUCKING DESTROY YOU!"
The room went silent for a moment, the bewildered spectators stunned by the feral beast that had appeared in their midst where a sweet drunk girl had just stood.
Gajeel, standing behind her in his underwear just laughed and picked her up from behind around the waist, pulling her away from the sight of her inner sanctum being violated while she continued to yell obscenities. Then, in the uneasy quiet, some shouted out a new bet,
"20 Jewels say the blue-haired chick cusses someone else out!"
"I'll take that bet!"
And a whole selection of Levy-related bets rang out as she was dragged away, her kicking and screaming devolving into giggles at being pressed up against her boyfriend's naked chest.
Freed keyed in an update to Mystogan, letting him know the relayers would be heading to the Precht next. Then he got back to what he was doing before Romeo had updated him on their progress. Which was picking out a new leather jacket online for Laxus with Mira. He really needed a new one and his birthday was coming up so they were going in on his gift together.
"Oooooooo! What about one with a fur collar?! He would look so...Russian in it!" Mira squealed a she popped the tops on a dozen bottled beers for the group of frat boys in front of her.
"Mira, he is Russian..he looks Russian in anything you put him in," Freed replied, but he modified his search bar and pulled up fur-collared coats. Mira had worked her way through business school as a model. He wasn't about to doubt her fashion sense.
Gildarts bounced on his toes on the makeshift mattress-sumo-ring and took another Moon Drip shot from one of the girls constantly keeping his whistle well wetted. He winked at her and shot it back. Then with a yell of allegiance, he dominated his new opponent.
"For my baby girl! Who is gonna kick all your asses!"
Behind him everyone in the room reached for their glasses and took a drink.
Mystogan had eventually convinced Drunk Erza (who honestly seemed like a whole different entity at this point) that he was neither Jellal nor a threat. But the minute he had gotten through to her, explaining quickly while he fashioned a makeshift bandage for his arm, she had remembered Bora and taken off running. It was all he could do to keep up. What, did she train for marathons in her free time?! Mystogan was a pretty fit guy, but even he couldn't run full out for thirty straight minutes without slowing down for a breather.
Erza was a machine. She'd barely broken a sweat. Yes, she tended to run diagonally, instead of straight, because well, Moon Drip...but still, impressive. He was beginning to think the whole thing was futile though. Bora could have gone anywhere, and he had a head start. Until, by some miracle, or amazing Drunk Erza tracking system he couldn't decipher, they caught up to him. And that was the moment when he realized where they were. And where they were heading. Straight into the heart of the campus, the Precht Fitness Center.
Exactly where Freed's last text had told him NOT to be.
In his adrenaline-induced panic he managed to catch up to the enraged redhead, who had, thankfully, put away her knives to run. Even drunk, she had some semblance of responsibility. He tried to persuade her to stop.
"Erza! We need to quit. We're...chasing him….onto campus!" Mystogan was really winded now, breathing heavily in between words.
"All the more reason to RUN! We'll cut him off at the pass, give him nowhere to run!"
He had no fucking clue what the fuck she was talking about. There was absolutely nothing resembling a "pass" anywhere near them.
"Uh...ok...but what if he...assaults someone….along the way? Shouldn't...we...try to lead him...off campus?" That's it, he was starting a jogging regimen tomorrow. This was pathetic!
"The only way to get him is to give chase! TALLY HO! They can't take our FREEDOM!"
And with that confusing declaration, she went into a full out sprint, leaving Mystogan just far enough behind to see a group of mostly naked males making their way around the side of the Precht, coming towards them. Fuck.
Just. Fuck.
He slowed down and stopped bent over, hands on his knees to catch his breath as he watched the weirdest, most serendipitous encounter he had ever seen occur. They could block each movement out like a play and rehearse it for weeks and it could not possibly go down the exact same perfectly-timed way that it did.
Bora had turned around at Drunk Erza's war cry, ready to head around the corner of the building, just missing the appearance of the penultimate relay challenge crowd, apparently trying to race wearing ice skates.
Without ice.
If it weren't for the horror flooding his system at seeing them cutting off Drunk Erza from her prey, Mystogan would have been rolling around on the ground laughing. Because they looked RIDICULOUS. Tripping and grabbing at each other to gain an advantage as all of them made steady but slow progress trying to balance and failing miserably on the blades of the skates. Natsu was a demon.
Bora barrelled through them, falling and knocking them all over like perfect dominoes. And then as one, the group saw Drunk Erza bearing down on them, hands curled into fists and skirt fluttering in the wind she created with her acceleration. They promptly struggled up, turned around and, even more desperately unbalanced, tried to get out of her way.
Having propelled himself through the group and to the ground on their other side, Bora shot only one bewildered look at the naked concrete skaters, before taking off again, leaving the group of horrified undressed men between Drunk Erza and her primary target. During a pervert hunt.
This could not end well. Mystogan closed his eyes for a second, his heart going out to his brothers, before his brain just couldn't take it anymore and he had to look.
The men had done the only thing they could, drop to the ground and cover their heads, praying to every god they could that Drunk Erza wouldn't see them.
And like a miracle, she didn't.
Right up until she tripped over one of them, sprawling face first into the grass, narrowly avoiding a face full of nose-damaging concrete. Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment, except Bora, who kept hightailing it into the distance.
Then Drunk Erza raised herself up, glared at whichever poor guy had tripped her (Mystogan was just too far away to recognize their faces) and proceeded to beat the shit out of him. Which was the point at which Mystogan decided he had rested long enough.
Breaking his own personal record, he made it to the group in seconds flat, just in time to see a cowering Toby get kicked in the gut. The other boys had crawled away, abandoning the poor sod to his fate. Mystogan sighed in relief that it wasn't a member of Fairy Tail and went into damage control mode. He tried to get her attention on him.
"Erza! We're losing him, let's go!"
"Right after I'm done destroying these perverts Jellal! Come, help me!"
Mystogan paled. He'd lost her again. To whatever fucked up memories her drunk mind was revisiting.
Shit.
The guys cowering on the ground looked at him in confusion. Tobe was starting to look more black and blue than anything else, he didn't have time for subtle. So he did something he wasn't proud of. Remembering her story, about how Jellal had conceived the plan that got them out, he came up with a strategy on-the-fly and did his best to embody his brother's voice and presence. Cold, ruthless, commanding. It had been a couple years since he had seen him, but years of brotherhood (and random instances of pretending to be each other) had branded it into his soul.
"Erza."
As soon as her name left his lips Erza froze. It was eerie, watching the effect his brother had on her. He took a breath and continued. "Leave them. They aren't worth our time. We have to escape, before they come looking for us."
Erza turned then, complete trust in her eyes as she gazed at Mystogan. It broke his heart to see the innocent childlike gleam they took on; the overwhelming adoration spilling from her eyes for his good-for-nothing twin. His eyes ached with unshed tears for her, but he kept his stance, his tone. He had to get her away from the rest of the guys before she hurt anyone else.
"Come on." And he walked a few feet away, passing around the fallen competitors and striding forward confidently until he came to the corner of the building farthest from the fallen men. He didn't have to look, he could feel Erza behind him, mirroring his every step. He paused when he hit the corner and expected her to stop with him, but instead got hugged from behind by the vise-gripping arms of Erza Scarlet. He heard her murmuring into his ear, over and over, like a mantra.
"I'm sorry I thought you were dead. I'm sorry I thought you were dead. I'm sorry I thought…"
Until he couldn't take it anymore. Tears streamed silently from his eyes as he supported her weight pressing against him and cursed his brother for what he had done to her. For what that man who kidnapped her had done to her.
Now that they were well away from Toby, he carefully pried off her arms from around his chest, got his own tears under control, and turned to face her, hugging her back and saying in a slightly husky, but clear, concerned voice; his own voice,
"Erza, it's not Jellal, it's Mystogan. I'm so sorry I had to do that, but you were hurting innocent people." He paused, expecting some kind of response. "Erza? We need to go. Remember? We were chasing Bora, remember? The pervert? We were catching up. He's getting away now, Erza. We need to go."
Erza remained where she was though, clutching his shoulders and whispering into his chest. He rubbed her back and played his last card.
"Erza, if we catch Bora, we can go get some cake..."
Which, for some reason no explanation could ever satisfactorily define, actually worked. She lifted her head, her eyes bright with tears and just looked at him, as though he were the Great White Hope.
"Really? We can get cake?"
Well shit, he should have trusted what Natsu and Gray had told him sooner. He cleared his throat and struggled to keep himself from laughing. Not at her. Just, at the whole situation. How had they even gotten to this point?! It was supposed to be a simple task! Just keep her away from Fairy Tail.
How the fuck had it turned into this?! He sighed.
"Yeah, we can definitely get cake," he finally said fondly, removing his arms from around her.
Which proved to be a mistake as she smiled brilliantly, and said, "OK! Then let's go!" and immediately headed in the direction he could still see Bora's almost invisible form heading.
Which just happened to be straight for Fairy Tail.
Fuck. Just.
FUCK!
Lucy was lost in the moment. The constant rhythm of music that was simultaneously perfect, yet too loud, seemed to slow down time; each measure divided into so many beats, which were divided again and again, infinitely, until time ceased to exist. With bass pounding and a pulsing synthesizer cutting through the air, speech wasn't practical. So they spoke to each other with their bodies instead.
It was a slow introduction, their skin barely making contact; his hand at her waist, their fingers woven together. Their cheeks brushed, as she pulled back from telling him her name: that which couldn't be conveyed through touch. All languages had their limitations.
It was an unbelievably intimate moment. Though surrounded by dozens of sweaty bodies, gyrating and swaying, it felt like no one could see them. It was like they were locked in their own magic lamp, an invisible carafe just big enough for the two of them, that functioned only to keep the world from barging in. Her eyes feasted on him, shuttered and heavy, catching on the stark lines of his bare abdomen and staying, following the sharp curving lines of shadow that descended out of view beneath his belt.
A hazy, lingering logic in the back of her mind questioned when he had unbuttoned his shirt, but the part in charge at the moment shut out logic, addicted to the sensual experience.
After several moments, or a million years, of moving to the beat of the music-one hand trapped with his up by his neck, one across her own collarbone with the music-she could no longer resist touching him. Her free hand drifted over to him, as she stepped forward, his arm reacting by holding her more firmly, closer. She ghosted her fingertips over the bare skin of his neck, diving under the collar of his shirt to find the end of the dip above his collarbone.
As though responding to her unspoken question, he released her other hand to rest on his neck and put both his hands on the bare skin at her waist, circling his thumbs over her ribs firmly. He kept his eyes locked on hers, gauging her reaction and tugged minutely, until their hips were only a hair's width apart. She could feel the silk chiffon of her skirt catching on the zipper of his jeans before wisping past, over and over again as then moved to the rhythm.
The intensity of his cool gaze made her breathless. Internal shivers radiated from his fingers, stirring a frisson under her skin and a restlessness in her blood. Dropping her gaze to his open collar and below, she explored his chest and abdominal muscles, running the pads of her fingertips over every groove and ridge.
His skin was soft, but hard, like silk covering molded glass, or the water melting off of ice as she touched it with the heat of her fingers. It felt...inspiring. She viewed his body like art, interpreting what it told her and feeling the reactions it invoked in her. Her avaricious fingers wanted more. They slipped around to his back as she lightly brushed the front, soft planes of her body with his own hard ones, running her fingertip down the ridge of muscle paralleling his spine and wishing she could see it.
And then she could, his shirt drifting to the floor, and his hands returning to her waist, barely chilled from their absence. His back was as impressive as his front, the muscles rippling as their hips and shoulders continued to sway, making unseen waves of heat in the air around them.
One hand, fingers splayed, slid up her back and under her top, settling into place under the strap of her bra, holding her securely against his chest, like she was precious. Like something treasured.
His cheek whispered over her ear as he inclined his head and brushed his lips against the skin of her shoulder. It almost wasn't even a kiss...more like a caress of his mouth, and it elicited a sigh from her, that he couldn't hear but bathed his neck in her breath. Slower than a single flake of snow drifting down to the earth, giving her time to pull away, or stop him, his lips made their way to her neck, which arched invitingly, clearing the way and sending her sleek hair swinging.
He hesitated, admiring the glow of her skin in the low lighting, and she gathered her courage. Leaning forward, as though the inch of space between her lips and his neck was an uncharted no-man's land, she gently kissed his neck, the tip of her tongue slipping out to taste him.
His arm muscles contracted, pressing her closer, as his other hand cupped her neck. And smooth as glass, he guided their lips together.
Then the real dance began; lips hungry, fingers clutching, and tongues flitting across the chasm they created. His breath burned down her throat, and her entire world, now inside their invisible sanctuary, spun on its axis, a wave of headiness and pleasure weakening her knees. It made her feel that if either of them let go for even a moment they would float away into the void. As though he felt that unreasonable fear as well, he pulled her body closer, melding her further into the hard surfaces of his own, even as he broke the kiss and pulled his head back. Her eyes, fluttered open, unfocused and unseeing, until his enchanting mercurial eyes came back into focus. With the slightest of smiles, he tilted his head, asking in their new shared language if they should go and find somewhere more private, one hand still securely holding their hips together as she swiveled her hips against his growing hardness, instinctively seeking release. His other hand slid down her spine and around her waist, finding her hand and gently playing with her fingers. She leaned forward to kiss him again, matching the movement with her restless hips and was delighted by the sensation of his captured groan as he tightened his arm and pushed his hips back into hers. She broke the kiss this time, smiling and settling her hand more firmly in his own. Without a word, he stepped away and she followed him, as he led her away from the music.
Natsu sat stunned, unable to believe what he was feeling. She had actually done it. She had gone out and found someone to make out with. Even though he hadn't touched another girl. Even though he hadn't even gotten that drunk.
And above everything, that someone hadn't been him.
He felt sick to his stomach, feeling the mystery man's hands on her skin. Her bare skin. He could feel it all. And he could feel her arousal, her excitement. It wasn't even just to spite him then, she was actually enjoying it. She was doing it for her.
And it was killing him. Which wasn't fair to her. She wasn't his...anything. He didn't even really know her. Just an image in his head and some handwriting on his arm. She didn't owe him anything.
But gods how it hurt. It felt like his heart was being squeezed and he was deprived of air. Like a tiny black hole had opened up in his stomach and was slowly draining his energy and life, accompanied by a dull ache. And he just sat there and endured it. As the minutes ticked by, and the world turned, he sat against a building and felt sick at her joy. And then, when they stopped and he thought the torture would end, he felt her excitement peak and the press of her lips on his again before he took her hand in his. And the heartbreak hit him, triggering a flashback like nothing he'd seen up til now.
"Why the hell are you doing this? Can't you see it's killing me?!" she screamed at him, clutching the straw bonnet she carried in one hand and the fabric of her long dress in another. Her hair was up, curled where it framed her face, and she was so...beautiful. Natsu could feel the same gut-clenching heartbreak ripping through him in this time, too. And it made him say things he didn't want to, that he knew were only going to hurt her more.
"If it's killing you, then don't do it! You don't have to marry him! You're the one choosing this! You're the one walking away from everything we have and could have!" Natsu felt tears streaming down his face as he balled up his fists. "If I'm not enough for you, then I can't live. I can't breathe. I can't eat. If I'm not enough for your to turn your back on your parents and run away with, then I won't. I won't breathe. I won't eat. I won't live."
The look of horror that took over her features was wrong. She should never have such a look. She should never have to feel anything so ugly. She was his evening star. Always guiding him to be better, with her joy and her light.
But her light had been snuffed out. And he couldn't stand by and watch, unable to do anything. He couldn't look at her anymore, tears streaming down his face, and he turned away.
"NO! Don't...don't you dare! Please! Anything. Anything but that!" she cried out desperately, finally closing the distance between them and flinging herself at his back. He could feel her own tears soaking through his coat. Simple and made of wool. Worlds away from the fine Indian muslin she wore and the silk ribbons that adorned her bonnet, now cast uncaringly into the dirt.
She had once chided him for that. For dropping her hat in the dirt. Dressed him down properly for the better part of an hour, in that highborn tone of hers.
And there it sat, the merest of winds pulling at the long ribbons and eventually whisking it away.
Like she would soon be whisked away.
And then she changed everything.
"You're right. I can't live that way either. The thought of not seeing you everyday makes it hard to find air." She sniffled on her tears and tightened her arms around him. At her words he started to feel a glimmer of hope and then she said it. "Let's run away then. Even if we end up begging on the streets. At least we'll be begging together."
And the tiny seed of hope blossomed into sudden joy. He spun around, grabbing her by the arms and looking her in the eyes, still afraid to believe she might have not said what he had just heard. But her watery smile matched his own, even if her eyes spelled defeat more than triumph. And he couldn't help himself any longer. He leaned forward and firmly kissed her. It was decidedly improper, and would destroy her reputation if anyone saw, but he didn't care. He loved her, body and soul, and if she was going to stay with him, he could do anything. He could conquer the world. He would find a way to support them. Even if it killed him.
Natsu took a sharp breath in as he came out of the flashback, disoriented for a second by the sudden change in his surroundings. Then he remembered. He could feel whoever it was she was with stroking her skin again, an arm around her waist. They weren't kissing again though. Not yet.
And Natsu felt a burst of some new but familiar emotion flood through him. It wasn't too late, there was always time. All he had to do was get to his phone. Or better yet, a pen. Just as he was about to say to hell with it all and start running back for the house, the ice skate racing challengers crowned the hill.
And he remembered the bet. He didn't have time for this shit.
But he would not submit his team to a naked lap around campus if he could help it. He had goaded them all into helping with this whole mess to begin with. So, he ran towards them, taking the helmet from Mest and running back to where the other challengers were. He took his shot and dug into the massive one pound spicy taco sitting on the table with his name on it. Cana was the first of his challengers to realize they could follow his example and she ran to meet Hibiki; Minerva, Todd and Warcry right behind her. But they didn't stand a chance. Natsu had not only designed this challenge, but hand-picked it for himself. While the other four did their best catching up (surprisingly Todd of all people finishing only minutes behind him) he was done, and setting off a Roman Candle while they were still stuffing their faces.
He took off running, giving it everything he had. Funneling every ounce of hurt, pain, and hope into his muscles and willing them to run. His mind tunneling into a single dizzying thought. He had to tell her. She had to know.
And as he drunkenly ran, confident in his assured win, a campus police golf cart pulled alongside him, driven by Macao and carrying Team Wild Card back to Fairy Tail. His mouth fell open and he almost missed his chance as they passed him, barely making it as he leapt onto the back of the vehicle. Just as he settled onto the back he felt lips against hers again, urgent, needy and returned in fervor. Frantic, he scanned the vehicle for something to write with, seeing a pen stuck behind Loke's ear.
He dove for Loke, almost knocking the whole cart over, but managing to grab the pen. Forgetting that he was wearing a helmet with a camera pointed right in front of him, he wrote as quickly as he could.
STOP! PLEASE! I THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!
And stared down at his arm, waiting for something to happen.
Lucy and Gray were in a dark alcove of the basement, not really listening to the commotion about the relay, but hearing it all the same. She had almost gotten bowled over by the new wave of liquor her soulmate imbibed, spiraling her even further into her drunken state and increasing her arousal. And she attacked her hot, shirtless Adonis, kissing him and then running, teasingly, away down the stairs that appeared in front of her. He had followed, of course, and they had ended up in a corner of the huge dark room, ignoring the relay, but feeding off the energy of the mass of people betting and yelling at the screens. Until Lucy heard something that made her pause. The guy who had been making announcements and commentary into a mic all night said with surprise,
"What the hell is Natsu doing?! He just attacked Loke for a pen! And he's writing on his arm?! What the fuck is going on in his head, is he trying to communicate with someone through his camera?" They both heard it. Breaking their kiss to turn their heads and look a the screens across the room, they tried to decipher what was going on. On one TV, labeled Team Wild Card, a head of pink hair was bowed, concentrating as the man it belonged to began to write something frantically. On another, with the label Team Natsu, they could see the pen going to his arm, close up in the action.
And just as he put pen to skin, she felt the familiar tingle on her arm. And words appeared on her arm, the same time he wrote them on the screen.
STOP! PLEASE! I THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!
Lucy's head spun. She let out a cry and pushed away from the guy she had been cuddling a moment ago. He stumbled back, confused as he turned back to her, still trying to sort out what was happening on the screen. And then he saw it too. The message scrawled across her arm in the unmistakable handwriting of his best friend. His fucking brother. And it came out before he knew what he was saying, staring straight into her beautiful wide brown eyes. The eyes he had been swimming in for the last two hours.
"Fuck. You're her. You're Natsu's Weirdo."
And the minute the word Weirdo hit her ears she knew who he was, all the little clues and puzzle pieces falling into place. His shirt disappearing, him knowing about her, about the nickname ND called her. No, not ND.
Not anymore.
Natsu.
"You saw it here first people. Natsu Dragneel is confessing his love, on camera to someone watching! That has to be what's happening right now! Who is it?!" Max was scanning the crowd trying to discern who had captured the erstwhile heart of Fairy Tail's infamous bachelor. He didn't think to look at the couple with their heads together in the corner, staring at her arm.
Natsu Dragneel.
And he loved her.
And she had been making out with his roommate. His best friend. Who hugged him to make her feel better. Who had a stripping habit, and slept with a new woman every night. She lifted her head to look at him again, really just asking to have something to say. She knew in her bones she was right.
"You're Gray aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well...fuck."
They turned back to the screen just as Natsu looked up, Cana's camera helmet getting a clear shot of his determined face as he yelled something and pointed behind her. Team Wild Card's helmet swiveled off of him to show Fairy Tail itself, growing by the second as they approached. Lucy's soulmate was minutes away from walking through that door and discovering her.
With his roommate. In a room full of people that had seen them making out with each other for the last twenty minutes.
And, as they two watched the house they currently sat in getting closer and closer, all they could both think was
Fuck. What do we do now?
And there you have it. I have decided my new personal writing motto is Nalu forever, but Graylu for now. Sue me, I love a good love triangle...or several...or a square sometimes...I might just be evil. *shrugs* Whatever. You know you love it.
Ok, if you are at all confused about the ice skate racing and what I am picturing, think Blades of Glory chase scene. If you haven't seen that movie, then Youtube it. Pretty much the funniest chase scene I have ever fucking seen. Ever.
And since Levy is always good for at least a few references…
you kopile of a footlicking hosenscheisser! Before I go Count of Monte Cristo on your ILLITERATE ASS:
kopile-Croatian for bastard
footlicking-one of my favorite Shakespearan insult components
hosenscheisser-a slang term in German for a coward, literally "trouser-shitter" I discovered a glorious list of fantastic German insults so these will definitely be popping up in Levy's vocab more often
Count of Monte Cristo- referring to how the title character of Alexander Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo returns twisted, Machiavellian-level revenge on his enemies and their families.
the Great White Hope- referring to a super racist time in boxing (yeah, I don't support it in any way, but the boxing reference was too good to pass up, so please forgive me) 1910 to 1911, where the first black heavyweight champion was dominating, the racist white population at the time were looking for what they called the "great white hope": a white boxer who would finally defeat him. I debated using this, but it is history, and happened, and is a phrase used in everyday language that a lot of people don't know the origin of. So, your lesson for this chapter: boxing was racist in the 1910s...like pretty much everything else. Let's get better than that, shall we?
AUTHOR EDIT: I changed a couple of things since I posted this chapter. I think there was one part in particular that a review was right about. I didn't work on it hard enough, and it felt preachy to me too. So, I rewrote it. Because this is a work in progress that gets written in 6 hour spurts, edited in hours instead of days, and posted immediately, because I like feedback while I'm writing, when I can really understand how everything is coming across and make sure my point is as I see it. And if I don't honestly assess what the reviews are saying and decide if I agree or not, then how am I respecting the time you guys put in to read and review and chat back with me when I message you? So, changes were made. I like it better I think.
And now, I know I'm being too sensitive, but I'm sorry that there are some people that aren't enjoying the story. I just want everyone to feel the joy I have when writing it. I'm sarcastic and I joke a lot, but I write with my whole heart. And we all know how shitty it is to have your heart rejected. Hell, we read and write about it on a regular basis. So, I guess, just...I'm sorry there are people out there not feeling the joy. It's inevitable, I know, there will always be someone who doesn't agree. I guess deep down, my idealistic streak is too prevalent. I just want everybody to get along. But I guess you can't always get what you want. And with that I'm wiping my hands of it. Because the .3% of negative opinions shouldn't get more attention than the 99.7% positive ones. You guys seriously rock my world. So thanks. And I will show my appreciation the best way I can. By getting to work on the next chapter. And making it better. Because you guys deserve the best. Or at least, my best.