Chapter One
She had never meant to start playing so hard in the snow, but once the snow balls started flying and taunting jeers were yelled back and forth between the two sides, Levy couldn't help herself. She had never been one for arm strength, or strength of any kind for that matter, but the thrill of the little white orb launching from her fingers and zipping through the air made her feel big for once.
She was having so much fun with the guys, she didn't notice the deep pothole behind her as she took a step back to aim another snow ball. She didn't notice the sharp, rusted metal support bar sprouting from the concrete like a jagged tooth.
Her foot found emptiness where there should have been ground. The pothole was deep, and her leg went in a good foot. She cried out in pain as the metal rod gouged into the side of her calf. She fell back onto the ground, the blinding pain in her leg pushing tears over the brim of her eyelids. She squinted her eyes shut.
She vaguely heard the alarmed shouts of the guys who had been throwing snow balls with her. She heard the crunching of snow underfoot as they rushed toward her. But then the voices and the footsteps stopped abruptly.
Those sounds were replaced by the deep thumping of snow being crushed under heavy boots as someone approached her from behind, followed by the rustle of leather as that same someone knelt down beside her. She dared to crack one eye open, and found two glaring red ones staring right back at her. And then both her eyes were as wide open as they could possibly be. She stuttered out his name in little more than a whisper.
"G-G-Gajeel..."
He wore black. Black shirt, black leather jacket, black jeans, black biker gloves, black bandanna holding back his black hair. Black everywhere. Metal piercings adorned the bridge of his nose, the cleft beneath his lips, the curves of his ears, and the ever-frowning eyebrows above his crimson eyes.
Tall, dark and mysterious, he was the neighborhood troublemaker who was on everyone's run-for-your-life-when-you-see-him-coming list. The only time anyone came to see him was to get their vehicle serviced at his shop. He was dangerous, and mean, and scary, just the kind of person a good girl like her avoided at all costs. He didn't care about anyone else. So just what did he intend to do now?
Gajeel merely grunted in reply to her stammering, his sharp eyes moving down to the long, bloody gash on her leg. She heard him curse under his breath when he saw how rusted and dirty the metal protrusion was, and then he was looking at her face again.
"I-I'm okay," she insisted, before he could say anything. She pulled her leg out of the hole and tried to stand, only to be met with an annoyed "Tch." Two muscular arms slid themselves under her and hoisted her against his chest.
A startled "Eep!" escaped her lips as Gajeel turned and began walking toward his shop across the street, ignoring the startled stares of the guys she'd been throwing snowballs with.
"Stop!" she ordered in small, wispy voice, kicking her one good leg and pushing against his arms. "I can walk!"
"Liar."
His voice startled her. It was so deep it was almost a growl, but at the same time it was smooth and held dark cadences that Levy had never heard in a human voice. Despite her fears of the tall man, she found herself fascinated by the single word he had spoken to her thus far, even if he was technically insulting her.
Unwilling to give in so easily, Levy tried again. "Really, you don't have to," she insisted, pushing harder against his grip. His arms were like iron vices, becoming more and more secure around her the more she struggled.
"Would ya quit squirming, Shrimp?" he suddenly snapped, making her tense. "That damn spear you stuck yourself on must have been infested with at least a million different kinds of bacteria. You want your leg to fall off in a week? No? Then quit yappin' and sit still. I have a first aid kit at the shop."
Levy, now utterly terrified, clamped her mouth shut and tried her best to shrink into oblivion, but it was kind of hard not to be noticed by the man who's lugging you around like some damsel in distress. It wasn't like this was one of her fairy tales with a dashing Prince Charming who whisks the princess away from danger and...
Levy nipped that thought in the bud before she had the chance to finish it.
Gajeel circled around to the side of the mechanic shop, kicked open the back door with a boot-clad foot, stomped in, and slammed the door closed in the same fashion.
They stood in a long room. Its contents were sparse: a cot holding a wadded up blanket and a pillow, a kitchen table and two bar stools, and a sad little kitchenette that discouraged all thoughts of cooking.
Levy's eyebrows went up. He lived here, in his shop? Not the most ideal accommodations, even for a man like him.
He strode over to the cot and laid her down in a surprisingly gentle manner, then turned toward the kitchen cabinets and began to rifle through them, grumbling uninterpretable things to himself.
Levy sat still, shoulders tense. Here she was, sitting in the residency of the most feared man in town, the proverbial dragon's den, waiting for him to tend her wounds. This was a dream, wasn't it? Things like this didn't happen to normal people like her.
Gajeel turned toward her again, his arms full of an assortment of medical supplies. Among the jumble, Levy recognized a bottle of rubbing alcohol and flinched. That was going to smart. The dark-haired man eyed her, as if sizing her up. The bluenette felt herself shiver beneath his steely gaze.
Seeming to make up his mind, Gajeel went over to her, laying down the supplies at the foot of the cot and kneeling down on the floor in front of her.
Gingerly, he took her leg in his callused hands. His thumb grazed the raw, red flesh. Levy let out a quiet hiss of pain. He paused, ruby eyes flicking to her face. She bit back the pain and gave him a small nod, hoping he couldn't read the discomfort on her face too clearly.
Before continuing further, he peeled the gloves off of his hands and shrugged out of the leather jacket, tossing both articles on the floor. The black shirt beneath was sleeveless, allowing Levy to fully appreciate the exceptionally toned muscles of his arms, the shoulder portion of which was inked over by a dark, enigmatic tattoo.
And then there were the scars. Some were small and trivial, like the nick of a paper cut or the slip of a kitchen knife. But others were long and gruesome, carving a pale horror story into his tanned flesh.
Levy caught herself staring and quickly looked away as he began unfastening the laces of her boot. It slid off her foot easily. Then came the sock, the white knitted fabric now stained crimson. Carefully and gradually, he slid the leg of her pants up and away from the gash. Levy sighed at the tattered rip in the material. These were her favorite pair of winter pants.
Her leg up to the knee was now bared to him, revealing the long, curving wound. It was nastier than she had realized. She grimaced, a sick feeling swirling around in her stomach as she stared at her own torn and bleeding skin.
"Hm." Gajeel turned her leg from side to side. "Not as deep as I thought. Are you up to date on your tetanus shots?"
"Um..." Levy wracked her memory for an answer to his question. "I think so."
"I'm gonna have to disinfect it," he informed her, glancing up as if to get approval.
Levy only nodded mutely, feeling too woozy to put words together.
Gajeel reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a package of cotton balls, retrieving one of the fluffy wads and dousing it in the transparent liquid. Without further ceremony, he swiped the moistened cotton across the gash.
The sting was sharp, but the pain was minimal and far preferable to that which Levy had experienced upon first receiving the wound. She even managed not to flinch too noticeably.
He continued to clean the cut, each stroke of the cotton wad bringing on a new wave of prickling pain. Finally, he was satisfied, and after applying ointments from different tubes, reached for a roll of bandages. His hands worked smoothly and fluidly as he bound up the wound. Soon, the cut was completely hidden beneath the clean white material.
Levy sighed in relief. The pain had decreased drastically, and she actually found herself relaxing, settling down into the soft blanket and warm pillow beneath her.
"Don't get too comfy there, Shrimp," came Gajeel's deep voice.
Levy, despite her inherent fear of the man, found herself glaring. "That's not my name," she said, nearly instantly regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.
To her surprise, he grinned cockily at her. "Sheesh," he said in mock complaint. "You lend a girl a hand and all you get in return is attitude. There's some ladylike behavior for ya." He chuckled a low, amused chuckle.
Levy felt her cheeks flush with heat, and looked away.
"So what is it then?"
She looked back at him, surprised. "W-what?" she stuttered, caught off guard.
He rolled his eyes mockingly. "You don't want me to call you Shrimp, so I assume the next step would be to tell me what your name really is."
Levy blushed even harder, now a mumbling, nervous wreck. She had never imagined that lean, mean Gajeel the gangster could have a side to him that was so...nice? Nervously, she rolled down her pants leg and began to replace her sock.
"It's Levy," she muttered, staring determinedly at her foot as she pulled her shoe on, wishing he would suddenly become stricken with color blindness so he wouldn't be able to detect the red tainting her face.
"It's a pleasure, Shrimp," he said, cocky smirk still in place. "The name's—"
"Gajeel Redfox." Again, the words were out of her mouth before she could consider what consequences might follow. If it were at all possible, Levy's blush deepened to an even rosier hue.
The man arched a studded eye brow. "My reputation precedes me, I see," he noted.
"It's not like it's weird that I know that, or anything," she blurted, a little too hurriedly. "Everyone knows who you are. Small town, and nosy neighbors, and..." The sentence trailed off into awkward nothingness.
"Yeah, nosy," he murmured, the grin returning.
An extremely unbearable silence followed, making Levy squirm uncomfortably on the cot.
"Well, thanks for your help," she said suddenly, shifting closer to the edge of the cot. "I should really get going."
"Alrighty," Gajeel agreed, but he didn't move to allow her to stand. Instead, he turned his back toward her, still in a kneeling position, and looked at her out of the corner of his eye expectantly.
Levy blinked.
"Well, whatchya waiting for, Shrimp?" he demanded.
"What do you mean?" the bluenette stammered, thoroughly confused.
"Unless you wanna hobble all the way home in the dark by yourself, I suggest you hop on."
The blush that she had only just managed to suppress came flooding back into her cheeks as Levy realized what he was trying to do.
"You don't have to...I'll be just fine if I—"
"Look," he said firmly, a serious glint coming into his red eyes. "I ain't lettin' you walk home all by yourself with a scrape like that, but..." A mischievous smirk crept across his features. "...You could always bunk here for the night, if that's what you'd—"
She was on his back before the last words could leave his mouth, fists bunched in the fabric of his shirt.
"Let's go!" she quipped.
"Thought so," Gajeel said with a chuckle, reaching for his jacket and pulling it over both of them. Her body was pressed a little closer to his back as he tugged the sleeves into place on his arms. Looping his hands under her knees, the dark-haired man stood, careful not to jostle her injured leg.
"How you doin' back there, Shorty?" he asked over his shoulder.
Levy was smoldering with embarrassment, and her answer was muffled by the fabric in front of her face. "I feel like a backpack," she muttered, making him laugh loudly. It was a round, healthy laugh, not like the teasing chuckles she had received from him so far. It caused a warmth swell in her chest and made a little smile turn her mouth up. She never imagined she would ever have an interaction with Gajeel Redfox, but this teasing, chuckling, good Samaritan was certainly not what she would have pictured if she had.
"You're small enough to fit in one, Shrimp," he replied, shifting her weight to one hand so he could open the door. Evening had fallen outside, leaving the snowy sidewalks lit by the warm glow of street lights.
"I thought you said you were going to stop calling me Shrimp," Levy mumbled crossly.
"Did I?" he asked mischievously.
Recalling their early conversation, she cursed inwardly, realizing his exact words had not included a promise of any kind.
"Meanie," she jabbed around an exhausted yawn.
"Where to, Your Highness?"
"53 Beach Nut, apartment A12," she answered sleepily. As he began walking around the corner and down the street, the cold wind nipped at her cheeks. She snuggled down a little deeper between the warm leather jacket and the hard muscles of her Not-So-Charming Prince's back.
Oh, heavens, had she just thought that?
Oh well. She was too tired to be worrying about it, and anyway it sounded kind of poetically romantic, in a comical, dry-humored sort of way.
From under Gajeel's jacket, Levy watched a fresh wave of snowflakes drift down in the light of the street lamps. The steady rhythm of Gajeel's footsteps only served to lull her deeper into a dreamy daze, and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep. The last thing she remembered was the deep hum of Gajeel's voice, though she couldn't make out what he was saying. She felt herself smile against his back.
Good night, Gajeel, my Not-So-Charming Prince…
A/N: Hey everybody! Thanks for taking the time to read my story. I really enjoyed writing it so please let me know what you think and whether you would like another chapter about these two adorable kids. It's been a while since I wrote anything so it feels good to be posting stories again. Cheers!
McFluffle