Author's Notes:
Gajeel misses a lot of hints. I mean, Bickslow is one of Laxus's best friends. Why would he ever mean him harm?
TW: Assault
Chapter 121:
Gajeel had cracked open a fresh bottle and Bickslow had barely made it to the bottom of his, when they were run out of the bar. Jet blinked blearily, halfway through his own and already slowing down, confused as to why he had been interrupted in the middle of a story about Team Shadow Gear fighting off some tomb raiders during a mission to recover pieces for a nearby museum. He hadn't realized he'd been yelling, and Bickslow laughed and elbowed him hard in the side for getting them kicked out, although Gajeel suspected it had more to do with his babies flying too low over the other customers' heads than Jet's loud drunken stories.
The men piled out of the tiny bar, Jet stumbling far more than the other two, as Bickslow led the way out onto the side streets of Magnolia. Bickslow was talking about his hook-up and asking Gajeel if he smoked, but the raven was too busy watching Jet as he struggled to walk with them. It was clear he wasn't holding his liquor, and he was beginning to smell like sickness.
"You're such a lightweight, Jet," Bickslow sneered when Gajeel grabbed hold of the speedster's arm and steered him over to a dumpster. "Didn't even finish the bottle."
"He's a hundred and ten pounds wet, Bix," Gajeel muttered.
"One-fifteen!" Jet declared right before he doubled over and vomited on the ground, barely missing Gajeel's boots.
"I bet Levy can out-drink 'im." Bickslow snickered. "I finished mine. You almost finished two."
"Can't really compare the guy to a career-drunk and a freakishly tall giant." Gajeel defended as he crossed his arms and patiently waited for Jet to finish making the alley smell like the inside of his stomach. He lit a cigarette in the hopes that the smoke would burn away the nauseating stench.
"You're not a career-drunk," Bickslow said, "You have to actually get drunk to be a drunk."
"I'm gettin' there." he said, "Just takes a lot. Fast metabolism."
"You'd think he'd have a fast metabolism." Bickslow griped, "Speed mage."
"I do!" Jet wavered on his feet and tried to snatch his bottle back from Gajeel. The iron slayer smirked and easily kept it away, "I can keep goin' just fine!"
"Should just leave 'im." Bickslow muttered lowly, his entire demeanor suddenly changing. He stepped up behind Gajeel, so close he could feel the warmth radiating off of him. He stooped down so his lips were inches from his studded ear. Gajeel could smell the alcohol on his breath and the closeness of him made him have to fight his instinctive need to cringe away from him, "We can go back to my place... if you're up for it."
Gajeel furrowed his brow, confused and startled, "Can't just leave him, Bix. He probably can't even get home like this."
"So?" he asked, his maroon eyes flashing with sharp annoyance, "He'll be fine."
Gajeel looked up at him, shooting him a glare, "You got him drunk. I ain't lettin' you ditch 'im. Take responsibility."
He grimaced and immediately dropped it, a cool smile slipping onto his face, "Alright, alright. Calm down. Come on, Jet. We're gonna go get somethin' to make you feel better."
"Yeah?" he said woozily, tripping over his own feet and falling into Gajeel, "Whoops."
"That's just what he needs... to get cross-faded," Gajeel huffed, first attempting to help Jet walk by pulling his arm over his shoulders. When Jet continued to stumble into him, he abandoned the idea and had Bickslow hoist him onto his back instead.
"Cross-faded? What's that?" Jet murmured into his shoulder.
"T's when ya get drunk and high at the same time."
"High? I've never been high before."
"Probably shouldn't start now, then."
"What's the fun in that, eh, Jet?" Bickslow goaded him, "You wanna run with the big boys, don't cha?"
"I can run faster than both of you!" he chuckled, his good mood picking back up.
"That's the spirit!" Bickslow cackled, ignoring the glare Gajeel shot him. His babies chirped excitedly overhead, repeating his words into the night sky.
Gajeel, despite his better judgement, ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut as they met up with Bickslow's hook-up, when they stopped at another liquor store for more booze, and then as they headed back to his home. They walked past Freed's house in the process, and Gajeel didn't miss how Bickslow very purposely didn't even glance in its direction. Gajeel causally ran his eyes over the darkened windows, trying to determine if it was because no one was home or the late hour that the house was so quiet. His stomach rolled nervously; his chest ached. What if... what if Freed was with Laxus right now? What if Mirajane was with Laxus right now?
He remembered smelling Mira's scent on his skin the day Laxus had insisted on sleeping at his house, the day after Gajeel had almost done something irreversible. He remembered how it had made the iron in his stomach boil. They had slept together because Laxus had been angry. He'd run straight into her arms without hesitation. This fight was so much worse than the one they'd had before. But Laxus wouldn't cheat on him because of a fight... would he? Would it be cheating if he did? Bickslow had asked him if he was mourning his breakup too, like he knew something Gajeel didn't. His stomach writhed and he clenched his jaw, desperately pushing back the feeling of tightness in his throat. Had they broken up?
He chugged the rest of Jet's whiskey.
"Woah." Jet said over his shoulder, "That was quick."
"Easier to drink the faster it goes down," he growled as he lit a new cigarette and took a drag, missing the way Bickslow was looking at him as he tossed the empty bottle to the bushes.
Bickslow's house was less creepy than Gajeel had expected it to be. It was a tiny, one-bedroom townhome. The modest kitchen had a breakfast bar, and there was a small table in the corner piled with whittling supplies and a couple half-carved totems. The living area had a simple couch and matching chair, a shabby rug, a coffee table, and a bookcase with a handful of books, some dolls and totems arranged haphazardly, a radio, and a few other odds and ends Gajeel didn't care enough to study too closely.
"You alright, Jet?" Gajeel asked, letting the man slip onto the couch.
"Great!" he grinned, leaning back into the cushions, "You're actually really nice."
"I'ma need ya to remember that," he hummed and threw his pack of cigarettes on the bar before drifting into the kitchen to help Bickslow roll joints. Jet didn't stay on his own for long, deciding to follow Gajeel into the kitchen just a couple seconds later. Bickslow was already smoking, filling the small home with the unmistakable stench of weed. Jet wrinkled his nose when Gajeel handed him a joint, staring at it like it might bite him. Gajeel leaned on the counter, smirking, "You ain't gotta do anythin' ya don't want to."
"Don't talk 'im out of it," Bickslow said wickedly, smiling so wide his tongue rolled out of his mouth. "He wants to have some fun too."
His gaze was intense again, and it was clearly making Jet uncomfortable. For a second, Gajeel thought maybe Bickslow was angry, but he was acting light-hearted, so he didn't really understand where the thought came from. Again, Gajeel felt a bit uneasy. He stamped it out, though.
He took the joint back from Jet, showed him how to light it, how to smoke it, and coughed a little bit from the burn in his lungs. Jet again stared at it like it would bite him and Bickslow laughed at his expense. The speedster was clearly agitated and didn't want to be the only one not participating, but Gajeel could smell his nervousness. So, again, he stepped him through how to smoke it, but Jet just stared, his lips pressed into a dubious line.
"Shotgun it." Bickslow grinned.
"No," Gajeel snarled.
"What's that?" Jet asked.
"It's where I blow it inta yer mouth," he huffed, taking another drag as deep as it would go and sending up a quiet hope that he'd be out of his mind soon, "You don't want me to do that."
Jet stared blankly at him, not understanding, and Bickslow cackled when Gajeel rolled his eyes. His totems were chirping do it, do it, do it, and Gajeel was in a shitty mood. He batted them away, but they kept dipping down over his head, annoying him with their child-like laughter. Angrily, he relented. He took a hit and grabbed Jet by the collar, dragging him close. His eyes got impossibly large with shock when Gajeel pressed his lips to his and breathed smoke into his mouth. Jet gasped, choked, and spluttered as Gajeel let him go. He fell into a coughing fit, and Gajeel grimaced and pat his back.
"What was... was... that?!" Jet demanded, thumbing at his lip like he was trying to wipe off the feel of Gajeel still there.
"Congratulations," Gajeel said wryly, putting his hand on his hip as he leaned against the bar, "you've been further with me than yer girlfriend. Be sure ta tell her how awful it was."
Jet's face flushed scarlet, and he stuttered through a few half-words and syllables before giving up. A timid look came to his face, "It wasn't that bad."
Gajeel blanched, attempting to hide how flustered he felt by taking another hit, "Didn't mean to awaken somethin' in ya, Speedy."
Bickslow leaned on his knuckles towards Gajeel and waggled his eyebrows, "Do me next?"
"Not on yer life," he bit back, shoving his face away.
Less than an hour later, Gajeel was teaching Jet and Bickslow how to throw his knife at a block of wood they were using as a makeshift target. Jet got the blade to stick and jumped, punching the air before getting dizzy and falling into Bickslow. The larger wizard laughed and shoved him into Gajeel who caught him, not letting him fall to the ground.
"Oh shit..." he slurred into his shoulder, "The world is spinning... my chest feels weird."
"Ye ain't gonna get sick again, are ya?" Gajeel grumbled, staggering them both over to the couch. He was supposed to help him down gently, but the world was off kilter, shifting under his feet just enough that he lost his balance. Jet fell into the couch hard, groaning as he leaned precariously to one side.
"Why are you..." he waved at him, like that should explain his meaning. Gajeel stared, but it seemed like Jet had given up on speaking. He fell over and rubbed at his eyes, blinking as he peered through the smoke above him.
"He probably needs water," Gajeel said to no one in particular.
His eyes fell on the radio and he walked over to it, deciding it was too quiet now that Jet was laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He felt Bickslow watching him intently but didn't look over at him. He turned the radio on and searched for a channel, stopping on the first one he could find that actually played music. The staticky tones of an electric guitar filled the empty space and he lumbered back to where Bickslow was standing. He poured a couple shots and slid one to Gajeel before throwing it back. Gajeel followed suit without question.
"Still tryina black out?" Bickslow asked, his voice quiet.
"Dunno." Gajeel said. "I just wanna get fucked up."
"You get that way, don't you? When you're depressed?" Bickslow said lowly, glancing over to Jet on the couch. His expression was unreadable, "Wanna do somethin' stupid?"
"Thought I already was," Gajeel replied, pouring them both another shot. That look was back in Bickslow's eyes again, bloodshot as they were. He was still impossibly severe. He frowned and his brow furrowed. Gajeel should have understood why he was getting agitated, but right now, the meaning escaped him.
"You guys aren't talking without meeee…?" Jet slurred from the couch, not moving.
"Course not, Speedy," Gajeel sighed. Bickslow started to light another joint and Gajeel gave him a funny look. "You tryna get fucked up?"
"I have a high tolerance," Bickslow replied stoically. After a beat, his crazed smile was back on his face, "Besides, you haven't shotgunned for me yet."
Gajeel scoffed, "You know how to smoke."
"But it's not fair, is it?" he said, his voice pitching up like he was trying to make Gajeel feel bad. "You did it for Jet, after all."
"Doesn't sound fair to me!" Jet proclaimed from the couch. "You're bein' robbed, Bix!"
"Don't you owe me?" he grinned in a coquettish way, his eyes glistening, "For buying?"
Gajeel curled his lip, "I'll pay ya back."
They heard the loud, shuffling steps of Jet as he bumbled his way back to where they were standing, clearly having decided the world wasn't spinning enough to not double-team Gajeel into kissing Bickslow. Gajeel would have shoved him, but he didn't want the speedster to get hurt. He poured himself another shot and took it, ignoring the way it burned his throat. Bickslow was already grinning like he'd won.
"I thought you were nice, Gajeel?" Jet said, wrapping his arms around his own when he started to list over again, "You can't... can't exclude someone and be nice."
"Can't exclude me," Bix snickered, "That's mean."
"Maybe you are mean." Jet mumbled, drooping against his arm, "Whoa... dizzy..."
"Yer killin' me, Jet." Gajeel snarled, but the tawny mage wasn't paying attention. He was leaning more and more of his weight on Gajeel, clearly unwell. Gajeel also started to sway and caught himself on the counter. As gently as he could – which was to say, clumsily and without restraint – Gajeel pushed him up onto one of Bickslow's barstools. He teetered there for a minute, hazed eyes looking over the Seith mage's head before he started giggling.
"I'm taller than you guys now."
"You're shit wingman, Jet." Bickslow muttered.
"You're so cool, you don't need a wingman, Bix." Jet hummed.
"Fine, guess I'll be sad and lonely and smoke by myself..." Bickslow sighed dramatically, flicking open his lighter.
"Oh nooo..." Jet whispered, scandalized, and then turned large eyes to Gajeel, "Gajeel...!"
Gajeel gave him an unamused look, "You and Shorty are so perfect fer each other, it's sickening."
"Aw, you think so?" he beamed like a puppy that didn't know it was just called stupid because the tone of voice used was sweet.
"C'mere, Bickslow." Gajeel muttered, snatching the blunt from him. Bickslow leaned over the counter, excited and laughing enough that Gajeel could see the guildmark on his tongue, "And keep that thing in yer mouth."
"But then how will I find out what all the hype is about?" he asked, feigning innocence.
Gajeel raised a brow at him, "What fuckin' hype?"
"Levy and Laxus are both obsessed with you, and you even got Jet to admit you're a good kisser..." his grin was cunning, "You know, Laxus told me about all the shit he and Mira used to do. And he thinks you're better than her?"
Gajeel's chest immediately started to hurt at the mention of Laxus's name, and he thumbed at his ring again. Should he be doing this... with Bickslow? Weren't they best friends? How much of a betrayal was this? Would he even have a defense? But between Jet and Bickslow's teasing insistence, he felt like he couldn't back out now. And Bix had gotten them the hookup and had opened his home, so maybe he owed him an indulgence. His temper seemed constantly on the verge of being set off, and Jet wasn't in a condition to walk, let alone tell Gajeel where he lived. If he got too angry, would he kick them both out? And then Gajeel would be responsible for ruining their good time over such a little thing...
"I'm excited." Bix's voice dropped and his eyes bored a hole straight into Gajeel's chest. Again, that anxious feeling appeared, like he was dancing on the edge of a trap.
Gajeel's reply was a little too snide, "Try not to be disappointed."
He took as deep a hit as he dared and leaned across the bar to where Bickslow waited. The Seith mage leaned into him, whisking in the breath he held like he'd done this many, many times – and Gajeel suspected he had with a certain green-haired wizard. Gajeel went to pull back, but a hand fisted into his hair, locking him in place. He felt pinpricks spread throughout his body at being held still, a nervous tension making his stomach turn as he wrestled himself still. Thankfully, Bix kept his tongue to himself, and finally let him go. Gajeel licked his lips, trying for all he was worth not to appear as disgusted as he felt. He tasted like being manipulated felt, cold and heartless.
"Worth it," Bickslow had a shit-eating grin.
"That's hot." Jet said.
"Ima need ya to keep yer comments to yerself, there, Jet." Gajeel snapped as Bickslow devolved into a fit of laughter.
"I didn't say that out loud." he argued.
Gajeel poured himself another shot, "You sure as hell did."
"Oops... wait... are you gaslighting me?" Jet giggled, "Did I use that right? Levy always tells me I use words wrong."
Bickslow shot Gajeel a knowing glance, "I think out of the three of us, he's gonna have the worse hangover."
Gajeel rolled his eyes and opted to just down the rest of the bottle instead. "Not if I catch up."
Bickslow's smile faded a bit, "By all means… do."
Time turned into the kind of slush you might find mid-winter on the edge of the road, half-melted and messy. At some point, the music over the radio ended... which probably meant it was a god-awful time of morning. Jet and Bickslow were both sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling or the walls, eyes red and nebulous. Jet mumbled through a phrase or two and laid down. Bickslow stood, wavered on his feet for a moment, and wandered over to the kitchen, then the table, then finally to one of the barstools. Gajeel was in the chair, nursing the last of the whiskey, and concentrating on the colors of the bottle and the way they looked in the light when he turned it. He was going to be sick.
The world was dipping and swirling even though he wasn't moving. He'd smoked too much, drank too much. Good. He pushed himself up from the chair. He stumbled into the wall, barely avoided falling, and caught himself on the doorframe to the bathroom. He fell into the sink, wobbled to the toilet, and didn't care to make sure he didn't miss. He stood and stared at his mess, made a sorry attempt at cleaning up, at washing his hands and rinsing his mouth. Bickslow was standing in the doorway and his stomach twisted.
"You good?" he asked.
"M'good." Gajeel replied, but when he took a step he lost his balance. Bickslow grabbed him by his arms and steadied him. Gajeel marveled at how big his hands were. The guy was huge, at least a head taller than he was. He felt nervous and he didn't know why.
"Jet's passed out." he said like that meant something. He moved Gajeel into the hallway. "Come on."
"Hm...? Where we… goin'?"
Things were fuzzy. He felt nervous. His stomach still hadn't settled and the earth spun beneath him. He'd had too much to drink. He'd had too much to smoke. He was thinking he actually going to black out at this rate. His eyes were impossibly heavy and Bickslow was moving him to a darkened room. It was nice because it didn't bother his eyes as much as the light in the living room. He could still hear the empty static from the radio. He was pushed onto something soft. He let his hands spread out around him, running them over the duvet and enjoying the comforting feel of it. It smelled like Bickslow in here, but that made sense because it was his house. His stomach writhed. He shouldn't be in his bedroom. It felt wrong.
"Still good?" Bickslow asked.
"M'fine...?" Gajeel was confused. Bickslow kicked the door shut behind him, and they were doused in darkness. Gajeel's eyes could barely make out his silhouette. He was moving closer. Weight shifted on the bed around him. He didn't really understand what Bickslow was doing so close to him, why his gaze was so ferocious, like he was trying to tear him open with just his eyes.
His voice was low, a husky whisper, "You good, Gajeel?"
"I don't know." he answered honestly, "M'gonna pass out."
"Don't do that." Bickslow breathed. It fell against Gajeel's face and he shivered. His stomach clenched. A wide hand smoothed across his knee, slipped up his thigh, and the other started fumbling with his belt.
"Woah." Gajeel said, immediately bringing his hands up to stop him. They didn't do much, "Bix..."
"Gajeel..." he sounded annoyed. He saw a flicker of green in his eyes, a small tug that pulled at his subconscious. He was even more confused because it told him to keep his hands away even though he didn't want to. Bickslow unfastened his belt and began tugging at his pants.
"M'wait... Bix... what's..." his mind was trying to focus, to pull words together, but it felt nice in the dark and the bed underneath him was soft. He fell backward, the world swinging with him and slowing to a halt after he went still for a moment. He wanted to fall asleep but there were hands pulling his pants off of him and he knew that wasn't right. "What's goin' on?"
"I asked you if you were good and you said yes," Bickslow said, still working even though Gajeel wanted him to stop. He didn't even take his boots off, just slipped his pants down to his ankles.
"I meant... something else... I think." Gajeel mumbled, shocked into silence when a broad hand spread against his naval, slid up his chest. It was warm and commanding, but he didn't know this hand. It felt nice against his skin but he didn't like it being there. It stopped over his heart like maybe it could feel how fast it was beating. He was sure it could feel how fast it was beating. He shivered.
"Why do you think I invited you over?" Bickslow asked lowly. His breath slipped over Gajeel's shoulder. His mouth was close to his ear. Gajeel leaned away from it.
"Ta be miserable together..." he recalled, though the memory was hard to grasp at now, so distant and fuzzied by drink. It didn't make sense to him, that Bickslow was doing this, "Laxus is gonna be pissed-"
Green flashed in his eyes again and Gajeel lost the ability to speak, choking on his words.
"Sorry... sorry..." Bickslow breathed, suddenly much calmer. The air twisted with anger and Gajeel tasted something acidic on the tip of his tongue, "I don't want to hear his name in my bed again."
"S-sorry..." Gajeel hissed more than spoke the apology. He felt dizzy. He didn't like this. He didn't like this.
"You're fine," his tone was gentle again. Hands were tugging at his boxers, "I'm taking these off."
"Don't think you should." Gajeel whispered.
"You wanted to get fucked up, yeah? I gave you what you wanted," Bickslow sighed against his throat. Gajeel's stomach clenched as he began pulling them down, "Now you give me what I want. That's fair."
Gajeel swallowed against the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes but it made little difference. He didn't like Bickslow touching him like this, spreading his knees apart, sliding his hands up the backs of his thighs. Intrusion shocked him, and again he was trying to wrap his mind around how to convince Bickslow to stop. His breath hitched, but not with pleasure.
"Bickslow... I don't think I wanna do this..."
"You're really starting to piss me off," Bickslow warned, his eyes sparking again, silently commanding him to relax. He pushed another digit into him, holding him still with an angry look. Gajeel's stomach swooped, rolled into his toes. He didn't want to make him mad, but he didn't like this.
"This ain't right." Gajeel tried. He heard him suck in an irate breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm down.
"Why not?" he snapped. Why did he sound so much more sober than Gajeel was? He'd smoked and drank just as much, so why did he sound like he wasn't bothered? "You guys broke up. What's the problem?"
Was Laxus telling people they broke up? Did they break up? Did they break up?
Gajeel's mind started to buzz, the question circling around, mocking him with a lack of an answer. Bickslow twisted his fingers, not giving a damn about his plight, and Gajeel gritted his teeth. He didn't like this. He didn't want to keep going. Why wasn't Bickslow listening to him? He didn't know if they'd actually broken up or not! And if they had, he didn't want to go out and fuck his best friend!
Spinning, the fucking world was spinning and Bickslow finally pulled his hand away, but the next sounds made Gajeel even more confused. Rifling, plastic crackling. He didn't understand what it all meant until he felt something larger pressing against his entrance, and then panic started breaking into his daze.
"You're his friend, Bix..." he tried... he tried again.
"What he don't know, won't hurt him."
He pushed into him and let out a blissful sigh. Gajeel pushed his head back into the bed, his eyes snapped wide at being stretched. A groan struggled past his lips. He felt like the air was punched out of his lungs when Bickslow pushed the rest of the way inside of him. He took in a shaky breath as red began to break through his chest. Bickslow... wasn't going to stop... he wasn't going to stop?! He wasn't going to stop even know he knewGajeel didn't want this?! No, this wasn't happening to him again!
"If you don't stop right now, Bix, I'm gonna break yer fucking nose." he growled, baring his teeth.
He saw green in his eyes and felt that damned pull snapping his limbs still. Anger tinged the air, scented it with something dark and hateful. Gajeel's chest heaved because he couldn't break their eye contact, because he was suddenly very aware that at this second, Bickslow could do whatever the hell he wanted and Gajeel wouldn't be able to stop him. He saw the thoughts marching across Bickslow's face like a macabre parade, both of them knowing the situation they were in so intimately, and for one unbearable second Gajeel was horrified to think that maybe Bickslow wouldn't set him free.
Bickslow's eyes fluttered closed and the hold he had on Gajeel vanished. He withdrew from him, not looking at him but clearly pissed as he righted himself and then left the room, slamming the door shut so hard it felt like the entire room shook. Gajeel lay on the bed for a moment as the reality of what happened began to sink in. He'd... fucked one of Laxus's best friends. His chest ached. Bile rose in his stomach. He'd fucked one of Laxus's best friends.
His hands were shaking and he was trying not to panic. He pulled up his pants, dragged down his shirt. He smoothed his hair like it made a difference. He smelled like wood, like oil, like being manipulated, like Bickslow. He practically burst out into the hallway, eyes flashing to the bathroom door that was closed. He rushed into the living room, looking for anything he was forgetting, and then deciding he didn't care. He just needed to get out now.
Jet groaned from the couch and he halted.
"Where you going?" he slurred, "M'not... m'fine... We can hang some more..."
"I think I'm leavin', Speedy," he replied gruffly, hearing the tremble of his voice and hating it because he felt like it gave him away.
"But I want to hang with you more…" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.
"I can't stay here…" Gajeel tried not to sound as horrified as he felt, "You gonna be alright? You ain't feelin' sick, are ya?"
"I'm fine, I'm... fine..." he muttered, slowly falling back to sleep, "Thanks for taking care of me..."
Trying to ignore his shaking hands, Gajeel looked around the room for a blanket. He found one folded on the back of the chair and draped it over Jet. He shuffled his way to the kitchen, fumbled through cabinets until he found a glass and filled it with water, put it on the table close to the Speedster. Jet groaned his thanks when he turned out the lights.
The bathroom door opened, and Gajeel froze. For an unbearable moment, he listened to the sound of his heart racing. He didn't even glance towards Bickslow, the space that he inhabited like a black smear he refused to concentrate on, to even recognize. He listened to him stomp across the hall and back into his room. He slammed the door again, and Gajeel let out a tight breath. He lunged for the front door and slipped outside, regaining the tiniest bit of his bearings once the cold wind hit him.
He leaned against the door, shivering. Everything that had happened that night began to play in reverse. The little comments, every time he'd just thought Bickslow was being an ass. His insistence on kissing him, telling him to leave Jet behind, buying bottles... he just thought they were all hanging out together, wallowing in self-pity, being miserable. Had he known, he wouldn't have gone with him. He wouldn't have drank with him. He would have just gone into the woods and laid low a while longer. Now what was he going to do? He'd just had sex with one of Laxus's best friends.
"Shit," he whispered, realizing his belt was still undone. Quivering hands made fastening it back together an endeavor. His throat was tight. His head hurt. He wanted to cry.
A gasp made his heart stop, and he dragged his eyes up to see Freed standing at the steps to Bickslow's house.
"You..." Freed started, his gaze pinned to what his hands were doing. "...don't tell me you..."
"It's not what it looks like." he began, but Freed wasn't having it. He'd already put it all together.
"Are you kidding me?" his tone bled with accusation, and he threw back his head, indignant and livid, "Laxus wasn't enough, you needed Bickslow too?"
Something about that made him beside himself with rage. Gajeel didn't need Bickslow. He didn't even want Bickslow! Bickslow had thrust himself on him! And now Freed was accusing him of stealing him? Gajeel barked out a laugh.
"Maybe if you didn't string him along like a lost dog, he wouldn't come at me like a bitch in heat," Gajeel seethed, and that shocked Freed into silence. His eyes grew impossibly wide and bewildered, and he could see immediately there was a denial on his tongue. "Oh, I know all about it, Freed. About how you called him Laxus in bed. But you won't fucking end it even though you won't date him. I know, Freed. Ye ain't hiding shit."
His cheeks flushed with pink ire, "Wait until I tell Laxus."
"Well, according to Bix, Laxus has been tellin' everyone we broke up so what the fuck does it matter?" he snarled, and again Freed looked as if he'd been struck.
"Oh no... no, no..." he whispered. Gajeel didn't know what was going on. Why was he suddenly so quiet? The middle of his forehead creased and he looked distressed. "Laxus... hasn't said that... Gajeel."
Gajeel's chest hurt. His heart slammed to an impossible speed. His skin felt too hot, his palms slick. No. No, no, no.
"Bix didn't say that to you, did he? He wouldn't... Oh no..." Freed started but stopped, looking more and more distressed, "He was really this angry..."
"Fuck." Gajeel slid down the door. He fell onto the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest. He was dizzy, breathing too quickly. He was violated, he was used, and he was heartbroken. He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up. He'd had sex with one of Laxus's best friends and they hadn't even broken up. "He's going to hate me."
"How could you do something like that?" Freed demanded, "Even if you thought you weren't together... Bickslow is his friend! How can you say you care about him and betray him like this?!"
"I didn't know!" Gajeel yelled back at him, "I thought we were just drinking... I didn't know it came with fucking conditions!"
"You mean you...?" Freed stopped again, again distressed, all his fire gone as soon as it registered what Gajeel had just said, "Wh-what did you say?"
"I said, I didn't know it came with conditions..." he broke down, feeling more and more like he was going to vomit, "I just thought... I just thought we were all hanging out..."
"What happened?" Freed whispered, stepping up to him, fighting between worry and outrage and dismay.
Gajeel told him to the best of his ability, but there were so many things that were fuzzy from drink and drugs. When he finished, Freed's eyes were wet, and Gajeel didn't understand why. He just buried his face into his palms and tried not to look as pathetic as he felt.
"He's going to hate me..." he whispered. He dug his fingers into his scalp, pulled at his roots, "He'll never speak to me again. I can't fucking believe... how do I keep fucking up so badly...?"
"Gajeel... it's not... it's not your fault."
"I shoulda paid attention. I'ma man, ain't I? Like I don't know this fucking game." he snarled at his hands, "Goddamn it."
"No... Bix used you, Gajeel. That's not your fault. He knew you were upset and he used you."
"They've been best friends since they were kids." Gajeel said miserably.
"He took advantage of you," Freed said sternly. His face softened "It never should have happened... I feel like this is partially my fault."
"Your fault?" Gajeel scoffed, "You weren't even here."
"If I hadn't hurt Bix... again. But he's mad at me. Why would he take it out on you and Laxus?" he fretted, fidgeting with his hands. "Why would he take it this far?"
"Yer kidding, right? Because yer obsessed with him," Gajeel said, and that startled Freed again. The guilt was written across his face, "He blames Laxus... like it's his fault you fell for 'im."
"This is my fault..." Freed whispered, "I'll talk to him."
"What?"
"I'll talk to Laxus... I'll explain what happened." he sounded more and more determined and Gajeel felt like he was going to have a heart attack. But what was he supposed to do? Ask Freed to lie? Hide the truth? "Let's... let's go. Come on."
"What?" Gajeel gasped, his heart somehow finding a way to thump faster in his ribcage, "No. No, I can't."
"What? Gajeel... listen, I know you're scared but the sooner we confront this-" Freed was standing now, crossing his arms as he looked down at him. His frown was striking but didn't lack concern.
"I'm not even sober." Gajeel stammered, "I still smell like him."
"Smell like... what? It doesn't matter. Dragon slayers are odd." he schooled a critical look, "If you hide this, it'll only get worse."
"I can't face him like this!" Gajeel scrambled to his feet, backing away from him like he might reach out and grab him. To his credit, Freed acted like he might for just a split second, "I... I gotta go."
"Go? No...! Gajeel!"
But Gajeel was already fleeing down the stairs, panic making everything blur with white. What was he going to do? What was he going to do? He didn't want to tell Laxus what had happened, because what if that was it? Maybe it wasn't the fight, but it would certainly be this. He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up so badly-
A hand grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around. Freed was before him, concerned and annoyed and trying to wrestle him still.
"Gajeel, you're being ridiculous." he snapped, "When you tell him what happened, he'll understand. He'll be mad at Bickslow. This wasn't all your fault. It was mostly his. Apologize. He'll listen to you."
"Why would he?" Gajeel demanded. Again, Freed was shocked, searching into him with a clear lack of understanding, "Why would he listen to me? He thinks I've been lying to him. What if he doesn't believe me? What if he thinks I...? What if Bix says something else happened...? Who would he believe? Not me. I wouldn't believe me. Fuck. I'm such a fucking idiot."
"You mean..." Freed breathed, "...he... doesn't trust you?"
Gajeel pushed him off and stomped off, feeling like he was taking a shovel to his own chest and digging out his heart. He didn't know what to do. He was scared, terrified. More than he'd ever been scared in his entire life. More scared than he'd been of Jose, more scared he'd been of Laxus getting hurt, more scared of Father looming over him in the bowels of the temples, he was scared Laxus would have nothing to do with him, would tell him he didn't love him anymore, that he wouldn't forgive him. The idea of it, the bitter possibility, the not knowing, was enough to twist his stomach into an impossible knot. He was so scared he didn't know what to do...
...so he ran.
Author's Notes:
I told you Bickslow is my fall guy. Sure hope Laxus doesn't find out. *completely flat tone* That would be terrible :o