Little White Lie
She doesn't like younger men.
She especially doesn't like testosterone-driven men prone to random bouts of violence in the sake of manliness.
At least that's what she tries to tell herself.
But when she watches Elfman helping out to repair the bar, which has been absolutely totaled in the most recent fight, and he takes his shirt off (more like strips it off, screaming something manly), her cheeks heat up and she turns away like a schoolgirl seeing her first porn magazine and it's totally, absolutely ridiculous.
She tells herself over and over that muscular, bulky guys are totally not her type, but when Elfman gives her a goofy grin and offers her a hand up after she's been bowled over by Natsu and Gray on their way to who-knows-where, she's suddenly self-conscious about her mussed hair and rumpled clothes, and she somehow manages to forget (or forgive) his overenthusiastic manliness and reaches out and takes his hand, marvels at the wide, flat shape of his fingers as they land squarely over her own.
She drinks and drinks and drinks to try and drown the inappropriate thoughts running through her head. One shot, Two shot, Three shot,fourshotfive-where the hell is she again? When the bar closes and kicks her sorry ass out, she can't even walk straight, much less find her way back to the Guild, but she does try, holding herself to the wall by means of an occasional handrail and sheer, stupid, drunken determination.
When several seedy guys corner her in a small side street close to the Guild, of course it has to be Elfman who sends them flying with huge sweeps of his powerful arms, has to be Elfman who catches her as she collapses, dead on her feet into an alcohol-induced faint, has to be Elfman who carries her gingerly back to the Guild and cautiously covers her with several blankets. (She wakes up baking in the middle of the night and throws up on the floor next to her and wonders who would be stupid enough to pile so many blankets on an overheating alcoholic, but falls right back into her drunken sleep).
She isn't one to fall into fits of useless screaming or sobbing hysteria like some (most) of the other girls are prone to do. Years and years of Laxus' casual scorn and being the only girl with her Thunder Guard teammates are enough to strip that particular weakness away, leaving her with only ice and arrogance in her veins. Still, when his shattered body hits the ground, her world turns black and red and she screams and sobs like any normal girl, is only held back by Cana as she rages to run to his body and see if he's dead or alive. In that moment between heartbeats, as she cradles his fat, stupid head in her lap and screams that she'll kill him if he's dead, she doesn't care that she's supposed to be Evergreen, supposed to be cool and calm and collected because if he doesn't open his eyes, then there really isn't anything to be calm about anymore. Ever again.
Then his eyes flutter groggily and her heart leaps to her throat and she sobs and crushes his head to her chest, cursing him roundly and promising to kill him when he's better. He stammers unintelligibly into her breasts and promptly faints, and Evergreen doesn't know whether to scream or laugh as she sits back, baffled, and sees the pervy nosebleed that caused his KO (and permanently stained her dress).
She doesn't like how he hesitates around her, as if asking her permission to do every little thing. Finally fed up by his hesitation, one day she grabs his hand and plants it firmly on her ass. He looks like he's going to die of embarrassment, and she rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh before shouting at him.
"That's what you were revving yourself up to do anyways, right? Then just do it!"
She couldn't believe she was saying this. "Are you a man or not?" she thunders.
That snaps him out of his stammering idiocy and he nods and she whoops in surprise as he grabs her and pulls her firmly into his arms, yelling something about manly intent, steam coming out of his ears. Now it's her turn to blush as everyone around them cheers and he looks down at her with a big, stupid grin.
"Manly enough?" He asks, and she fights the urge to slap him and instead turns her face away from the crowd and buries it into his shoulder to give him a near-imperceptible nod.
There are plenty of things about Elfman that she doesn't like, she finally concludes, but the number of things she does like about him greatly outnumbers that. One of these things is how she can make him blush anytime, anywhere. Testing her theory, she gives him a coy, seductive smile as he lounges easily next to her at the bar, smirking to herself when he catches the smoldering intent in her eyes, and she's not thinking about stone statues. He turns from her and blushes all the way up to the roots of his hair. Cute.
She likes running her fingers through his white hair as he lays in her lap, wonders at how it manages to stay stiffly upright as she pulls a single strand apart, lets it fall and laughs wryly as it snaps sharply back into place. She asks him about it and he gives her an answer that has "man" in it, which she immediately dismisses. They lie there for the rest of the afternoon, with her fascinated fingers trying to unravel the secret of his hair until the sunset starts to stain the sky purple.
She whimpers and he freezes, his breath still hot on her neck, and she grabs a double handful of his beautiful white hair, pushes his lips back onto her throat.
"That wasn't a signal to stop, you idiot," she pants, and her next words are lost in a whimper as he sucks enthusiastically to show her he understands. Oh god, if it's one thing she can always count on with him, it's his enthusiasm, and oh my god yessss! it's exactly what she wants right now.
She hikes her knee higher on his thigh, her other leg angling behind him as she tries to cross her ankles around his waist, and with a grunt, he yanks her firmly against him, supporting her with one huge, steady arm as she grinds her hips against his. Then he pulls her glasses off and she freezes in his arms, sudden trepidation cooling her passion.
"Elfman," she said, hesitantly, and he shuts her up with a kiss that leaves her stupid in its wake.
"Just keep your eyes closed and it'll be okay," he murmurs, his bass voice husky and low and it sends wild shivers down her spine as his fingers drift along the bare skin of her belly to stroke the underside of her breasts and her mouth drops open into hot, eager gasps becausegod, she can't see, and it has got to be the most painfully erotic thing she's ever done in her entire life.
Later, she lies, utterly spent against the warm bulk of his body, and wonders if Mirajane knows just how skillful her little brother's tongue can be in the right places. Her face twists and she gags with digust as she ponders the revolting implications of that and she drops the thought immediately. She shouldn't be thinking of Mirajane after doing her little brother anyways. It's just not good for her sanity. Settling into the pillows with a sigh, she passes her hand over her eyes.
This isn't how she saw things turning out.
It had just been a little white lie, harmless, told coyly, but coldly devoid of any real emotion, done solely in order for her own personal advancement. It wasn't supposed to balloon into this unexpected and not altogether as frustrating as she expected it to be thing – she gives his heavy, snoring head a frustrated push as it lolls onto her shoulder for the fifth time now – although there is still plenty of frustration to go around.
She sighs crankily as his head drops unrepentantly back onto her shoulder, and finally, she turns to look at him. He's snoring lustily and she winces and puts a finger on his chin to shut his wide-open mouth. He snurks and smacks his lips and settles into a deeper sleep. She narrows her eyes thoughtfully and considers the heavy wedge of his face on her shoulder, zooming in on the scar that stretches across his right cheekbone, and reaches out to touch it hesitantly, running her finger along the ridged skin that marks his darkest fear, his deepest regret, his greatest absolution.
She's never asked about it.
She knows that he and Mirajane prefer to keep that particular heartache within the family, but she can't fathom what it would be like to suffer silently from a wound so deep and wretched for so long, to visit a grave without a body year after year after year and wallow in festering self-hatred after every painful anniversary. It must have been very lonely.
Her lips curve into a sad little smile and carefully, she winds her fingers into his lovely white hair and strokes him quietly, tucks him a little more firmly into the crook of her neck. It's okay because he's asleep, she reasons, but she still scolds herself for being a romantic sap. He snuffles and nuzzles enthusiastically into her face, and the high, hard bridge of his nose crashes into her chin and she bites her tongue. Stifling her colorful and extremely inappropriate curse, she nurses her pain in fuming, insulted silence, and then finally groans and forgives him, her mouth twisting into a dry smile. She should have seen that coming anyways.
She tries to roll him into a more comfortable position, a position where he's not crushing her with the entire weight of his goddamned, way-too-built upper body, but he flops bonelessly over her instead, and their legs tangle and now she's even more hopelessly stuck. Huffing in irritation, she finally gives up and resignedly settles in for the night, falling asleep to the tangible bass beat of his heart against her cheek.
She didn't ask for this and neither did he, but they've meshed their way irrevocably into each others lives, and strangely, she's okay with that.
A/N - I never really saw myself writing an Elfman/Evergreen, but somehow, I find it super cute. There isn't enough Elfman/Evergreen out there, and this pairing really deserves more love! Hopefully you liked it and they were decently in-character throughout. :) Let me know!