Ah, I can't believe this story has surpassed 100 reviews already! Thank you so much everyone! Now, prepare for some Natsu man-pain...
chapter 11: smoldering
definition:
To stifle or suffocate, as by smoke or other means of preventing free breathing.
The darkness swallowed him in its unrelenting grip, blanketing and shielding him from any prying eyes. But, even under the cover of darkness, Natsu was still cloaked in all black from head to toe for added protection.
Black laced-up boots, black cargos, and a black turtle neck–the basic outfit of a firebug.
The summer night air was as muggy as ever, but he still pulled the long neck of his sweater up and over his mouth and nose. It was stifling, and he'd started sweating the moment he'd set foot outside, but he'd carried on nonetheless; as had Lucy.
She was dressed the same, in all black.
But, where he'd stuffed his legs into cargos, she'd chosen leggings. Incredibly form-fitting leggings that he, even in the muted darkness, could see clinging to the very attractive curve of her rounded ass. And when she walked–more like strutted–in front of him, hips swaying, Natsu had the strangest urge to bite it.
To sink his teeth into that sweet flesh and hear her startled yelp.
She'd caught him staring more than once, though, and her narrowed eyes had promised a good kick to the head if he dared attempt anything. He'd kept his hands to himself, but had let his mind wander as they'd snuck to the old police station. Her ass had proved to be a great distraction from his internal struggle.
But, it wasn't enough to squelch it as he stood there with a stiff spine and his hand clasping the lighter in his pocket.
A bead of sweat rolling down his back, Natsu readjusted his impromptu mask and eyed the building. His heart thundered in his chest, his palms grew sweatier, and he swallowed past a suddenly dry throat.
This…should have been easy for him, he thought.
Setting a fire, getting back into the swing of things. It should have been second nature, even after all these years of being "clean".
And yet…it wasn't.
His stomach nearly revolted at the thought of lighting another spark, watching the flames consume their prey. Though it wasn't because he didn't want to do it–no, just the opposite. He wanted to do it; in fact, he craved it.
That rush of adrenaline, the high it gave, the smell of the smoke and the heat of the blaze on his face. He wanted it…a little too much. And that was the problem. He'd managed to claw his way out of the addiction once before because of prison…but he didn't think he'd be able to do it a second time.
He was afraid that this fire…this whole undercover mission, really, would send him spiraling back down.
Down to the point of no return.
To where Jackal currently was–driven mad by the illusion of power and wealth. A psychopath who didn't care who he had to trample in order to further his own self-interests.
Natsu shook his head, breathing deeply, and pulled the neck of his sweater over his nose once again.
As a child, he, Erza, and Jellal had made arson into a game. Ninjas, they'd called it as they'd dressed up in their best "ninja outfits" and snooped around in the darkness of old buildings. He'd been the most into it, Natsu recalled with a wan grin.
He'd wind his old scarf around his head, leaving just enough room for his eyes to peek out, before hissing, "Nin-nin!" and making goofy handsigns–much to Erza's consternation. Once, he'd even tried to jump her in a sneak attack, but she'd tumbled him flat onto his back and given his head a good wallop.
A smile ghosting over his face, Natsu brushed his fingers against his neck where his scarf should have been.
"Natsu, you okay?" Lucy whispered from where she stood just behind his shoulder, jolting him out of his memories.
Swallowing again and fisting the lighter in his pocket, he nodded. "Yeah, ready to burn this shit down." With that, he stalked around to the back of the building, squeezing between filthy alley walls that oozed foul-smelling slime.
Lucy trotted just behind him, her strawberry scent strong enough to block most of the stench.
He breathed that scent in, strawberries with just a hint of cream, and held on to it like it was the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
When they arrived that the back outer wall of the old police station, Natsu's trained eyes trekked over the grimy surface. They searched, trying to locate their target, and he grinned when he spotted a square box just below eye-level.
The fuse box.
As Lucy watched over his black-clad shoulder, Natsu drove his elbow into the side of the box and the top came flying off. It clattered to the ground in the otherwise silent night, and Natsu immediately began digging through the colorful wires.
"Light, please," he murmured.
Behind him, Lucy clicked on the small flashlight and shined it directly onto the box.
Natsu grunted his thanks as he sorted through the wires, plucking out all the seemingly important ones. With one gruff hand, he pinched his selected wires, and the other hand fished out the pair of clippers from one of his many pockets.
Stripping wires was always a pain in the ass, he thought as he deftly clipped a red wire and then used his teeth to pull off the inch-sized bit of casing. He spat it out into the grass before stripping the next wire, a green one, and then a blue one. It took him no longer than a couple minutes to bare the copper insides.
Meanwhile, Lucy watched with unbidden fascination.
Her brown eyes followed the every methodical movement of his scarred fingers.
Three wires should have been enough, Natsu knew, but he kind of liked it when she watched him so intently. So, he stripped a few more–just to be safe. Then, he shoved the clippers back into a pocket and retrieved a small bottle from another, it's contents sloshing as he used a single hand to open it.
With a flick of his wrist, the bottle was uncapped.
And Lucy recoiled.
"What's that smell?" she muttered, slapping a hand over her nose.
Her sudden movements bounced the light all around, but Natsu didn't need it much anymore. He shrugged as he began pouring the liquid over the exposed, copper wires.
"Kerosene mixed with some other stuff. Mostly lithium chloride, my special brew," Natsu told her. "It burns slow, but the flames are bright red–pretty memorable."
Memorable was the polite term, he mused to himself as he screwed the cap back on. Flashy as fuck was probably a more accurate way of describing it, but he was going to let Lucy come to that realization on her own.
After he shoved the bottle back into one of his pockets, Natsu took a deep breath and a small step back. Everything was ready…all he had to do was light it up.
Yeah, he thought as his hand searched for the lighter, the easiest part.
But, as his fingers brushed the startling cool metal, Natsu felt his spine lock again.
He could see it now; the spark of the lighter, the fizzing pops as the spark transferred to the wires and caught, the bright red flare as the fire slowly consumed bit by bit of the wire and traveled up to the fuse box…
The miniature explosion that would destroy that box and condemn the rest of the building.
He could already smell the heady smoke, feel the heat of the blaze on his face. The adrenaline pumping through his body, the rush of sheer power that followed in its wake as bright red flames turned the building into a smoldering pile of ash.
Yes.
Sweat dribbled down his brow, nearly falling into his eye, and Natsu could feel the tremor in his hands.
Yes.
His fingers itched to ignite the spark and his heart yearned to see the fire, the beauty of the destruction it caused. But, something deep and dark inside him wanted more than the beauty. The power, a small voice in his head whispered, the all consuming power of watching something fall by his own hand–as toxic as it was inviting.
Natsu's thumb rolled over the spark wheel, the schick-schick-schick echoing the beat of his heart.
Yes, do it.
And that was where he was torn. Between his love for the flames, and the fear of being sucked into it. He would be drawn in further and further with each fire that he would set for the police, like oxygen, like kindling, until only smoke was left filling his lungs. It would suffocate him, leaving him choking and gasping, trying so desperately to cling to this nondescript reality…and eventually, it would leave him an empty husk.
A shell of the man he'd once been, warped by the false sense of control.
He'd become…just like Jackal.
Schick-schick-schick, his thumb continued to roll.
Yes, yes, do it…
He didn't want to. He didn't want to fall prey to the venomous snake that was the control and authority he felt from each blaze. It was taking all of his physical strength to hold him back, leaving him sweaty and shaky.
The trembling in his hands made it hard for his thumb to get a good grip on the spark wheel, and his blood was cold with fear.
He was falling, falling, falling…
But then, he felt a light and hesitant touch upon his arm. Panting, Natsu glanced over to see Lucy's pale hand resting on his forearm, and even through the barrier of his sweater, he could feel the warmth and comfort of her touch. It was like a lifeline, pulling him out of the roiling waters of his inner turmoil.
His gaze traveled up her slender arm, to her half-masked face so much like his own. Her brown eyes were liquid with concern.
"Natsu?" she murmured in question.
He inhaled deeply again, filling his nose with the scent of strawberries, and he felt anchored for the time being. Right, he told himself as his hands steadied, he wouldn't become like Jackal.
Lucy wouldn't let him.
"M'fine," he muttered and let his thumb slide roughly over the spark wheel once.
The orange flame was tiny, but when he held it underneath the wires doused in accelerant, it turned brilliant red and caught easily.
Natsu turned his back quickly as the tell-tale fizzing invaded his ears. He grabbed Lucy's hand as he stalked around to the front of the building, through the smelly alley. His feet ate up the ground, his sweater riding down below his chin as he quickened his pace.
"Natsu, what's the matter?" Lucy asked as he all but dragged her to her parked car a few blocks away. "You're acting strange."
Shit, he thought to himself. The last thing he wanted was for Lucy to notice his moment of weakness, for her to worry about him.
"M'fine," he repeated.
But just as they came to a stop in front of her car, a sleek silver S-class Mercedes Benz, Lucy ripped her hand out of his grip. Her feet dug stubbornly into the ground as she planted both hands on her hips and fixed him with a glare almost as hot as the fire he could feel behind him.
"No, you're not," she said. "What's going on?"
Natsu kept his back turned to the slowly burning fire a few blocks behind him, did his best to ignore the scent of smoke as it grew steadily stronger. In his right hand, his fingers were curled so tightly around the metal lighter that it's smooth edges bit into his palm and his knuckles turned white.
He needed to get out of here.
His shoulders were tight, a trembling beginning in his hands again as he said, "Look, I'll explain later, but right now I really need - "
"No, Natsu, you're acting really strange and I'm worried," Lucy interrupted as she reached out to touch his arm again. "Is something bothering you? Are you feeling - "
"Just get in the car, Lucy!" he barked, making her jump and jerk away from him with wide eyes. Seeing the wounded and confused look on her face, Natsu immediately wished he could take back his sudden outburst. Guilt settled in his gut as he added more calmly and quietly, "Please…" and his voice cracked with the strain.
Lucy was silent for a moment. Whether or not she noticed that he was pointedly avoiding looking at the flames behind them as they began to grow, she frowned and palmed the driver's side door.
"Okay," she murmured. "I'll drive."
Natsu threw open the passenger side door with a grateful chuff, his breath coming out in short bursts. He slammed the door behind him as he slid into the seat, the lighter still clenched in his hands.
Lucy, too, climbed into the car, though she shut her door a little more softly.
When the Benz came to life on a low purr, Natsu reached up and tore his sweater over his head, bearing his clammy skin to the cool air inside the vehicle. The relief was minimal, but much appreciated as he sagged into the seat, his skin sticking to the expensive leather.
The red glow of the fire, just blocks away, cast shadows inside the car as Lucy pulled away from the curb and headed further downtown.
She didn't say anything, didn't even make a sound as she drove. But he could see her watching him out of the corner of his eye as he stared down at the lighter in his hands. His calloused thumb traced the casing, flicking over the top in a mimicry of the spark wheel.
Again, soundlessly, she reached over and turned the air conditioning higher.
And Natsu realized that he'd still been panting, his heaving chest covered in a sheen of sweat that she could undoubtedly see. His shoulders were still tight, his stomach flopping in a nauseating way, but the cool blast of air helped if only a little.
The sick feeling, though, didn't go away.
Natsu's stomach kept churning the longer that Lucy drove, and at one point he groaned and bumped his head against the headrest in misery. He'd always gotten car sick, even as a kid–and with his whole body already agitated from the fire, he was even more susceptible to the nausea that overwhelmed him.
He braced his forearm over his eyes, squeezing his lighter.
He wouldn't be sick in front of Lucy; he wouldn't fucking do it.
It was through sheer willpower alone that he managed to not spill his guts all over the floor of her car by the time Lucy came to a rolling stop in front of his shitty brownstone. Natsu tugged off the seatbelt he didn't remember putting on and stumbled out of the car, gasping in deep breaths of the humid air.
The nausea was still ever-present.
Knowing that he was probably as pale as she was, Natsu skulked around the front of the car to the driver's side with his sweater in his hands. Her window was rolled down, and she looked up at him with brown eyes that saw way too much.
Bending at the waist, Natsu stuck his head into the window and rasped, "G'night, Luce," before capturing her lips in a very tense, very brief kiss. He didn't even savor it, too shaken to do anything.
Keeping up appearances and all that shit, he told himself.
He pulled back, preparing to retreat back to his house where he could wallow and try to cleanse himself of the disgusting feeling crawling all over his skin. But, before he could escape, a pale hand shot out of Lucy's window and snagged on to his bare arm. And then, he was yanked back down to her height.
Soft, soft hands cupped his cheeks, cool to his feverish temperature. Her bittersweet chocolate eyes were still worried. "That," she said quietly, "was not very convincing." And then equally soft lips covered his own.
Her kiss was as gentle as falling snow, so lax and sweet, and all the while her thumbs circled against his jaw. It was soothing, calming, her scent invading his nose and her tranquility seeping into him through the connection of their lips. There was nothing remotely sexual about the way she kissed him; it was an action of comfort and sympathy.
He hadn't realized how much he needed something like that until now. Lucy's mouth peppered tiny kisses along his–mostly his bottom lip and the corner of his mouth–and he swore he heard her voice in his head.
I'm here for you, her kisses said. It's okay now.
His heart, thundering in his chest, began to slow as his body began to warm. Natsu managed to come back to his senses, and he shied away from Lucy's lips with closed eyes.
Strawberries and cream, he noticed as he licked his lips. She even tasted like them.
"…Thank you," he managed, his breathing having settled.
Lucy, her lips pink and slightly swollen and a line still in her brow, nodded at him with a small smile. "You're welcome. Get some sleep, Natsu."
Natsu swallowed as he turned around and headed up to his front door. "I will," he promised over his shoulder, and retreated into his house.
As soon as the door clicked shut, however, and Lucy's engine revved away, his stomach revolted again. It flopped, his throat constricting, and he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before vomiting all over the floor. His stomach emptied itself in the most undignified manner, and he dry heaved afterwards, his whole body aching.
Natsu crawled into the shower when he was done, trying to rid himself of the scent of smoke and vomit. And by the time he was finished–his whole body and his mouth scrubbed raw–he had barely enough energy to clean up the mess on the floor and tumble into bed.
That night, he dreamed of fire.
Uh oh, he's in trouble... What will Lucy do about it? Stay tuned!
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Ah, we had a question about the rating. Yes, this story is rated M for a reason (coarse language and suggestive themes). As you could tell last chapter, Gray has a bit of a potty mouth. And in the future things will get steamy. But, for now, the rating stands for language. Thanks for your patience!