Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Mirajane Strauss, Laxus Dreyar

Hi, everyone! Hoping to sneak in an event or two for Slayers' Week! This story is for the Day 1 Prompt "Scars." Enjoy!

As rain plummeted from the cloud-choked night sky by the buckets, Laxus Dreyar hobbled up to the Fairy Tail guild. His clothes were torn to shreds, and blood leaked from dozens of gashes littering his body. They ranged in size from cat scratches to massive, gaping wounds deep to the fat. The blood dripped down his dark clothes to drop into the water puddled ankle-deep in the streets before disappearing into wispy pink clouds. Water streamed down his face in rivulets from his drenched blonde hair that slicked to his head, which hung low, chin nearly touching his chest as he shambled wearily up to the building. Laxus' boots clunked against the damp wood of the guild steps as he slowly climbed them one laborious movement at a time.

The windows were dark save for the reflection of the street lamps on the marbled glass panes. That was to be expected, considering it was nearing midnight, and most of the guild members had retired to their beds. The door released a gravelly groan of protest when Laxus pushed it open. The howling wind sprayed raindrops over the welcome mat and wood flooring; Laxus' blood discolored them as well when he staggered over the threshold.

"Fuck," he cursed softly under his breath as a particularly deep wound in his left thigh blazed with fiery pain. He just barely stumbled to the closest table, and collapsed with an agonized groan against the cold wood. He lay there with his cheek pressed against the grainy surface, one eye screwed up in pain. Get up, Laxus. This is nothing! he insisted. His body ached too much to comply, so he continued to slump there, feeling the hot, sticky blood dribble down his calf.

Suddenly, the dismal gloom fled with the oncoming of a soft yellow light. Laxus lolled his head to see Mirajane holding up an oil lamp and hurrying over from the bar. A smear of blood marred the tabletop as he lifted his head to blink blearily at the white-haired woman. Tutting under her breath, she set the oil lamp down, casting them both in its warm creamy glow, and drank in his disheveled appearance.

"Oh, Laxus…"

"It's nothing," he gruffed. His body contradicted him; as he moved to straighten up, the gash under his seventh rib sent his intercostals spasming, making him cry out and resume hunching over the table. Mirajane's dainty hands slid onto his broad shoulder as she leaned over him. "I'm… fine…" he lied weakly. Mirajane pursed her lips.

"You are most certainly not fine! You're bleeding everywhere!" she whined loudly, and he smirked despite himself. Spirited as ever… "Stay right here. I'm going to get the first-aid kit," she instructed, already walking back towards her counter. Laxus did as bid; there was nothing for it. If he attempted to leave, Mirajane would just drag him back- maybe even in one of her sadistic devil forms. He shuddered just imagining it. No, he definitely preferred to continue bleeding on the furniture, thank you very much.

Mirajane's clacking heels announced her return. She eased into the space beside him, blank-faced as she flipped open the plastic case that contained an assortment of bandages, cotton balls, and packets of ointment and antiseptic. She also had brought a needle and roll of twine, and damp rags. Laxus watched her coat one of the cloths with hydrogen peroxide. Her movements were much too practiced.

"Let me see your leg," she ordered. Laxus obeyed, but hissed in pain as he shifted to present his left leg to her. She stretched it out over her lap and used a pair of scissors to snip the blood-soaked fabric of his pants away from the gaping cut in the meat of his thigh. "This is going to hurt," she warned before pressing the rag down hard into the wound. Laxus jolted and yelled a series of unflattering expletives. The blue fabric of the cloth flooded purple as his blood soaked deep into the fibers; as Mirajane staunched the wound, however, the flow gradually ceased. She tossed the blood-soaked towel aside to press another in its place. Much less blood stained the fabric this time. "You're lucky it missed the artery, or you'd be dead."

"Lucky me."

Mirajane's eyes were chips of ice as she glared out of the corners of her eyes at him. He squirmed uncomfortably in the face of her venom. She's angry… He winced as she pushed harder on the rag, and he wasn't sure if it was because she needed to apply pressure or if it was revenge for his apathy. Her eyes fixated on the deep wound hidden beneath her hands, which were smeared with blood too. Seeing her bottom lip quiver, he exhaled deeply through his nose.

She finally pulled the damp rag away. The wound was clean, showing the lacerated muscle tissue. She stoically took the needle and nylon thread, as well as a syringe of anesthesia. Laxus winced when she plunged the needle into his thigh, feeling the stinging lidocaine and epinephrine pulse through the meat. She poked at his leg a few times and, when he didn't react, regarded it to be numb. She began sewing up the wound, winding the thread through the gap to pull the muscle fibers and skin together. When she was tying off the knot, he decided perhaps he should say something, as the silence was driving him mad.

"Mira, I-"

"Don't do that!" she snapped, throwing the twine and needle aside then grabbing the bandages. She unwound them and yanked up Laxus' leg with no care at all, making him grunt. Her eyes flickered to him, and then her body relaxed as she forced the tension out of it. "You don't get to do that," she murmured and began gently winding the bandages around his thigh. It was awkward, as she had to dip in below the fabric of his pants. He watched her with a sour taste blooming on his tongue, because tears were beginning to glimmer on her white lashes. "You don't get to just waltz in here all bloody and beat up for me to fix you. One day, I might not be able to, and what then? What then, Laxus?" His lips drew into a thin line. One of the tears dropped from her chin to drop down into the wound. The salt stung, but her words stung more.

She sighed deeply and tied off the bandage, then tiredly gestured to his chest. "Take off your shirt…" Laxus complied, grimacing as he reached over his back to tug the garment up. It caught on his biceps, smudging it with more blood; the friction made his wounds scream. The gash in his ribs was particularly vocal, making him lock up and hold the shirt above his head. Mirajane tutted and reached up to gently ease it the rest of the way. It dropped to the floor, and her hands dropped to his pectorals. Her fingers skated over the many abrasions and small cuts decorating his chiseled muscles.

"Blade magic," he explained as she counted the wounds, one by one. "Some asshole from a Dark Guild-"

"I'm well aware. I read the request," Mirajane quipped tartly. She retrieved a cotton ball and doused it in antiseptic, then began dabbing it over the various wounds. "It was asinine for you to go alone. Why didn't you take the others?" Laxus wrinkled his nose at her blatant chiding and leaned back on his hands.

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Mhmm, and look where that foolishness has landed you," came her haughty retort. Laxus flinched as she pressed on one of the deeper nicks unnecessarily hard. "You've come a long way, Laxus, but you're still pigheadedly reckless," she breathed forlornly. Her hands faltered to drop into her lap, and she stared at her blood-smudged palms with fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

"Mira," he sighed again, and she didn't interrupt him this time. He shifted uncomfortably as guilt began to prickle his heart with sharp little needles. Begrudged as he was to admit, it was unwise of him to challenge such a villain alone. Mirajane usually was the one to patch him up after his… misadventures, so she had seen him in such a sorry state time and time again. She had never scolded him so fiercely before, nor had she been so openly melancholy. Grimacing, he reached up to sweep a swathe of her snow-white hair behind her ear. "... Forgive me. I've hurt you."

She nodded, her throat constricting as she swallowed down a sob. She pressed her cheek into his large, rough-skinned hand, and the feeling of her soft skin rubbing the hard callouses sent shockwaves pulsing through his nerves. Tears dripped from her eyes, and he swept the ones running down her right cheek away with his thumb. Mirajane hardly ever cried, and the fact that this episode was his fault sent cold guilt flushing through his nerves.

"You're damn right," she exhaled shakily. The angry flush in her cheeks and her wobbling bottom lip betrayed her tough façade. Her hand rose to enclose around the one cupping her face, and Laxus was surprised to feel her fingers quivering. She fluttered her eyelashes a few times to dislodge the clinging dewdrops of salty water before looking at him intently. "Laxus, I know we've been ignoring this… thing between us, but I can't any longer. Not when you keep doing this to yourself," she sniffed in agony. His gaze followed her other hand as it ghosted not over his current wounds, but the scars that joined them on the landscape of his body. "Not when we're like this…"

Laxus wasn't fool enough to be ignorant of what she spoke of. An understood attraction had existed between them for some time now- ironically borne of nights like this, when the dragon-slayer had stumbled in bloody and beaten, and Mirajane played the doting yet stern nurse. The guild walls had borne witness to many a deep conversation in the early hours of the morning. The two of them were privy to secrets and fears and doubts no one else in the world knew. Laxus had always been emotionally constipated and found difficulty in expressing his innermost feelings. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure what he was feeling, and usually, that made him angry. Still, Laxus knew enough to know that he loved Mirajane.

Yes. Laxus loved Mirajane. He loved how beautiful she was, inside and out; her radiant smile and gorgeous winter-snow hair and bright eyes were but a window to the beautiful soul within. He loved how she could flip a switch and become feisty and powerful and domineering. He loved her motherly tendencies and fierce loyalty to the guild. Mirajane was, through and through, a fantastic person.

So he hated himself because of that. Mirajane loved him enough to wait in the guild until the wee hours of the night when he went on missions to see when he would come straggling in. She loved him enough to tend to his wounds, wind him head-to-toe in bandages, and only say a few chiding words. She loved him enough to hold her tongue until the moment she burst.

How could Laxus not see that he was breaking her heart because of that love?

She woefully buried her face in her hands. "I can't live with loving you while I'm wondering if this is the last time I'll ever see you alive," she sobbed. Her slim shoulders shook as she cried petulantly. Watching her sob made every scar that marred Laxus' body begin to burn like the first moment the wounds had been inflicted. They had hurt then, but Laxus had been remiss to consider something important.

How could Laxus not see that every wound inflicted upon himself was yet another scar on Mirajane's already scarred heart?

Laxus exhaled and leaned forward- the best he could with his leg still propped and his rib wound still oozing blood- to wrap his arms around Mirajane. He hugged her to his chest, burying his face into her scalp and running his fingers through her rivers of snow-white hair. She pressed her nose into his sternum with a low, mournful whine and wrapped her arms around the circumference of his torso, her hands splaying over his deltoids as she pressed every inch of herself possible against him.

"I'm sorry, Mira. I'm so sorry." She sniffed miserably and turned so that her cheek pressed against his chest. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her palm, but neglected to respond. Frowning, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "I'll do better. I promise."

"You'd better," she huffed while defiantly puffing out her cheeks, "or next time, you'll be nursing the wounds I give you." Laxus dryly laughed and buried his face further into her hair, inhaling her vanilla coffee scent.

"Yeah," he smirked. "Sure thing."

With a deep breath, she pulled away from him, shaking out her long hair before drawing it behind her shoulders.

"All right. Let's take care of this last cut," Mirajane smiled warmly and set to staunching the wound. She had to lean close to get the proper leverage, her head hovering just underneath his. Laxus stared at her a moment, then slipped a hand underneath her chin to slowly tilt her head back. Her mouth parted into a ring shape, about to ask what he was doing, but he swallowed her words by sealing their lips together. She sighed slightly into the kiss, pressing against him and moving her mouth in tandem with his. He rubbed his free hand up and down her forearm. Goosebumps rose in his wake as his touch made her hair stand on end. When he pulled away, still pinching the end of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, her eyelashes fluttered several times. A pink haze rose to her cheeks.

"Don't think that gets you off the hook," she huffed and looked down at the wound. She pressed hard against it again, for the surprise kiss had relaxed her muscles. "I'm still mad at you."

"But you still love me?" He asked smugly and propped his elbow on the table. She huffed and applied more pressure, making him growl. She then smiled tenderly, and her gaze flickered to his face.

"Of course I do… even if you're the most reckless idiot in the world."

"Hey," he complained indignantly, "I can think of a handful of people more worthy of that title."

"You'll have to prove it to me," she shrugged cockily and smirked back down at the cut. Laxus snorted, but leaned in to press another chaste kiss to her lips.

"Fine, fine…" He twinged when she pushed on the wound again. Obviously, she desired a more convincing answer. "I promise! Gah! Just stop hurtin' me, damn woman." She giggled mischievously and stuck out her tongue.

"Can't help it. I am a sadist, you know." He rolled his eyes and relaxed against the table as she prepared to stitch the wound shut. Smiling, he watched her work through one cracked eye.

Unlike all times before, Mirajane had a serene smile on her face as she patched him up.