"You've turned into a homebody, Lucy," Mira teases. She checks on him when he spends long periods of time away from the guild.
"If that means I prefer to be at home, then I guess I'm a homebody," he says placing another neatly folded square on the stack.
"Are you happy?" she asks picking through the pile of freshly laundered clothing.
"I am." He sets the stack of ten folded squares aside and starts a new one. "Are you?"
"Yes. Everything feels brighter."
"That's what wanted for you." Lucy glances at Mira who's still eyeing the pile of laundry wistfully.
"I know. I also know things couldn't be any different than they are now. I'm okay with that." She suddenly smirks and tosses a green set of footie pajamas in his face. "You realize you're about six months too early to be worried about properly laundering these, right?"
"Lucy likes to be prepared, and I don't mind doing it," he huffs.
"You're such a house husband," she laughs tossing her pink ponytail over one shoulder.
He smiles and deposits an armful of cloth diapers in her lap. "You could help me, you know. Since you're here."
When she places the last diaper on the folded stack, she sighs. "Thank you," Mira says quietly.
"For what?"
"For a lot of things. Fairytail gave me a purpose and a family in herself. I stayed with you after she... left and now I have a home." She smiles. "And so do you."
"You don't owe me anything –"
"Just shut up and let me thank you!" Mira pokes him in the arm and follows him to a room already filled with new furniture. She fills the empty dresser drawers with things she can't ever remember having. It amuses her to tease Lucy but in truth she knows exactly how he feels.
He decides the downy fluff is his second favorite thing to run his fingers though. The purring ball on his chest opens and closes her eyes slowly. She readjusts and tucks her legs under her. Lucy smiles. He can still feel her ribs along the sides of her body but supposes weight will come in time.
The still aggressively purring kitten suddenly stretches and hooks her razor sharp claws in the shoulder seam of his shirt. He cringes a little and Lucy laughs.
"She's not all fluff, you know," she teases.
"She'll learn to control her sharp bits eventually."
"Have you thought of a name yet?" Lucy joins him on the couch and settles under his free arm. "We can't call her New Cat forever."
Lucy traces the shape of the spots on her back. "How about Turtle? Her fur looks like a shell pattern."
Lucy laughs and kisses his shoulder. "She's yours to name as you please but I think I'll insist on having a say in baby names."
"Is that something we'll need to think about in the coming months?" he asks absently. He doesn't want her to know he's thought of that, as well.
"No, not yet." She sighs and touches the delicate point of Turtle's ear. Lucy brings her knees against her chest and cants her body toward him further. Lucy smiles and turns to place a kiss on the crown of her head. His heart is filled with a warmth that has nothing to do with the rumbling ball of fur on his chest.
Lucy swung the garbage bag up and into dumpster. She didn't notice the spatters of blood on the lip of the bin until she stepped back to leave. The sallow pool of street light made the droplets sparkle. Against her better judgement she leaned in for a closer look. It could've been anything, really, and even if it was blood she didn't need to nose her way into something that clearly wasn't her business at all... no. Nope. It was blood. Definitely blood. Her curiosity would be the death of her one day.
She peered into the bin and the obvious form of a man lay amongst the bags and other rubbish. Lucy groaned with frustration and took a moment to berate herself for looking at all before balancing on a stack of crates to fish the man out.
He was heavy but lucky for her the bin was almost full and she didn't have to do much more than hoist him over the bloodied lip.
"God you smell awful," she murmured. Her sweater now had blood on it too and with a frustrated grunt she heaved the man on to her back. The hour was late and even in a crowded building like hers, Lucy didn't see another soul on the trek back to her apartment.
The man fell into a heap on the floor when she released her hold. After a quick glance down the hallway, Lucy shut and bolted her front door. The last thing she needed were witnesses. It was entirely possible that dragging a bloody man from the dumpster bin and into her home was against building regulations.
She re-situated his body on the floor and began to evaluate his injuries. Thinking better of exposing herself to anything communicable – years in a hospital had taught her to always be cautious when it came to fluids – Lucy grabbed her medical bag and yanked on a set of latex gloves. There was an abundance of bruises and cuts that concerned her, including a seeping gash on his torso. Lucy removed the... mask? that covered most of his face. He had a prominent tattoo around his right eye. The logic of covering a tattoo on one's face with a black mask seemed ridiculous. She couldn't figure out which would attract more attention – the tattoo or the mask?
Cuts and bruises she could handle but a gash? Nothing spelled out deadly infection like a shoddy stitch job on the living room floor. She wasn't equipped to handle stitches. Lucy pulled her phone from her back pocket with the intention of dialing for emergency services. She yelped when a hand shot up and grasped her wrist.
"No calls!" he wheezed and released her arm. "No calls. Please."
"It's okay," Lucy said still clutching her phone. "I'm just trying to help. We have to get you to the hospital."
The man winced and grit his teeth in obvious pain. "They'll kill everyone," he said.
"What? Who?"
"The men who did this." he groaned and attempted to roll over. "They'll kill everyone in the hospital to get to me."
Lucy watched with mounting disbelief as he rolled over to lean on one elbow. "Okay... you can't..." She grasped at his arm in an attempt to hold him still. "Don't! You've lost a lot of blood and I think you might have been stabbed."
The man ignored her fawning.
"I know." He struggled to his feet with one hand pressed to the gash in his torso and the other bracing himself against the wall. Lucy folded her arms across her chest in irritation.
"If you want to leave the door's the other way."
He paused and slowly turned back around. His balance was short lived, though, and he fell back to the floor and slipped into unconsciousness.
"Perfect," Lucy mumbled and knelt down to pull him back up. This time she settled him on the couch instead of the floor.
When he woke again he seemed less agitated.
"Are you going to listen to me this time?" she asked with a patronizing tone.
"Where am I?" he asked quickly.
Lucy pressed a reassuring hand to his shoulder. "You're in my apartment."
"Who are you?"
"I'm the lucky girl who pulled you out of the garbage," she offered with a smirk. His hands flew to his face as if just noticing the absence of his mask.
"You've seen my face," he said with urgency.
"Yeah."
"Great."
"Your outfit kind of sucks, by the way," she said dryly.
"Yeah, it's a work in progress –" he attempted to sit up and growled in pain before falling back into the sofa.
"I really wouldn't try and move too much. You've got some broken ribs, probably a concussion, some kind of puncture wound... and that's just the stuff I know about." She sighed again and sat back on the edge of the coffee table. "And your eyes? They're non-responsive to light and it isn't freaking you the hell out. So either you're blind or in way worse shape than I thought."
"Do I have to pick one?" His attempt at humor would've made her laugh in any other situation.
"Would you mind telling me how a blind man in a mask ends up beaten half to death in my dumpster?"
He shook his head as much as he could. "The less you know about me the better."
Lucy scowled and threw her hands up in resignation. "The wound on your side –" She peeked through the shreds of his shirt. "Was that a knife?"
"Probably," he bit out.
"I think I stopped the bleeding but I can't tell how bad it is without a full series of x-rays."
"No. No hospitals."
Lucy's last thread of patience snapped. "Listen, this is my night off. I'm really not looking for some guy to die on my couch."
"Are you a doctor?"
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Something like that."
"Most people who find a masked man bleeding in the garbage... they call the police."
"You got a lot of experience in this area?" she shot back.
"Why are you helping me?"
"The less you know about me the better." It felt good to toss his words back at him.
He chuckled then winced in pain again. "Ow," he groaned still trying to swallow his laughter. For the second time that evening Lucy went against her better judgement and thought him far too attractive. "You got a name at least?" he asked.
She bit her lip and stared down at him. "Lucy." When he didn't respond she blurted, "I don't suppose I get to know yours?"
He hesitated before shaking his head slightly.
"Alright," she sighed and pulled off the latex gloves. "I'll call you Gray."
"Gray?" he asked with the ghost of a grin.
"Yeah. He was a guy I used to date. Turns out he was very good at keeping secrets, too." Lucy tossed aside the bloody gloves and startled when he took her hand – more gentle this time and not at all the wild grab from before.
"Thank you, Lucy."
She felt her heart skip a beat and wanted to slap herself. Why was she like this?
"Just rest. We'll figure everything out later."
When the man's eyes slid closed, Lucy exhaled heavily and gathered the discarded gloves and bandages with a frustrated force.