A/N: another entry for the gajevy love fest, and another drabble which spun out of control, teehee ~

As the boat rocked unsteadily beneath his boots and his stomach lurched back and forth in the same, swaying rhythm, Gajeel clung miserably to the railing and urged down the bile that threatened to rise up his oesophagus. The waves roiled happily beneath the creaky structure, goaded on by the sharp salty breeze carried in from the east, and he managed to throw his neck over the rails just before the remains of his lunch took a merry trip to the bottom of the ocean. Cursing, he rinsed out his mouth with a bottle of water, contemplating spitting the contents onto the two snickering sailors at work behind him, who had given up all hopes of concentration once they learned they had attained front-row seats to the graceful dance of the landlubber discovering his sea-legs.

Gajeel was no admirer of the seven seas. This one was no exception.

The trawler was an unusually small fishing boat, with sun-bleached walls boasting a single, horizontal red stripe that ran across their length, and a pitch-black hull peppered with patches of reddish-brown rust. Its crew matched its miniature size, composed of three men - Sol and Totomaru, seasoned fisherman who could walk miles on water (and could probably swim even farther), and Gajeel, their unwilling passenger, advocate of shipwrecks and landlocked cities. Their boss, José, head honcho of a popular fish market which ran in the more populated section of the town's docks, had received the vessel and its crew as an offering from one of his rivals, a man desperately dreaming of an alliance with the corporation, and a resulting increase in sales in the market. On the surface, José had happily accepted this show of good-will; however, he distrusted all acts of kindness enormously, and so he had sent Gajeel, his beloved stall's security guard (you really could never trust those shifty-eyed customers) along on its first trip in order to ascertain there was nothing suspicious about the craft, nor its two employees (who, he had gauged, didn't seem to care much about anything except the number of fish they would catch that day, and just how much it would translate to gold). He had intended to be intimidating, a bulk of angry and irritable muscle, but their mocking jeers and side-comments were no small indication that he had utterly failed at his job. He didn't care much at all anymore, preoccupied with the malaise which clutched him possessively and the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Before the sun set, they would have turned round and set a course for the sweet, sweet anchored ground of the harbour, and at last he would be free from the waters which despised him so. I can do this, he told himself, his desperate mantra for survival. I can do this - urgh!

"Hey, Sol, come help me out," Totomaru called out. Once he'd cleaned himself up and risen to shaky feet, Gajeel walked awkwardly to the other side of the deck, drawn forth by curiosity, and the desire for a distraction from his wretched state. The sailors were leaning over the rails, peering at the choppy, white-capped waves with slight frowns on their faces. For all the time they'd already spent rocking to and fro on those god damned waters, the men hadn't been able to make a single catch - something which had clearly been irking them since the beginning. "I think we've made a big haul this time - the net's thrashing like crazy."

"Are you sure it's not just the current?" asked Sol, peering suspiciously at the waters through his glasses. "It might be another false alarm, like before."

"Only one way to find out!" said Totomaru. Grinning, he started to haul the net back onto the boat - well, he made a half-decent attempt at it, anyway. "Shit," he grunted, tugging at the seemingly immobile ropes, "this is heavy. Don't just stand there, give me a hand!" Gajeel wobbled uncertainly as he watched the men struggle with heaving the net up, glancing from them to his feet hesitantly, which had finally managed to find their balance. His inner conflict did not last long - with one final heave of the net, they hoisted it out of the waters and onto the deck. Panting, they gave each other a congratulatory handshake, and inspected their spoils.

Within the confines of the cerulean mesh, the long, glimmering tail of an agitated creature thrashed about wildly; its scales radiated a deep orange hue, shimmering unnaturally beneath the faded light of a gray sky. It was angry, writhing with an unquenchable thirst for the salty waters which rested so close, fighting for its life - Gajeel watched on with considerable interest, recalling news reports of monsters caught at much greater depths than this, and the conversations of his colleagues at the market, their complaints of the local waters comprising of nothing more than a couple of odd salmon. Frowning, he leered at the creature more closely, craning his head to achieve a better viewpoint through the net - "O-oi!" Five slender fingers were poking through the little gaps in the meshwork. "There's someone in there!"

He couldn't find the net's opening, and, retrieving the switchblade he always kept on hand, he made to cut the net wide upon, when Totomaru cried out, "What the hell is that?!"

Gajeel froze, and so did the grasping fingers. He pulled at the cords, and layers of the net slithered down the long, pale arm, which had reached out. His eyes travelled along it to the face of a girl who couldn't be more than a few years younger than him. A frightened expression contorted her otherwise attractive features, hazel eyes distraught and flickering side to side in panic, pearl-white teeth digging into a full, rosy lower lip. Her pale blue hair cascaded past her face in short, messy and dripping coils, ending just above her collarbones. Wound around her chest was a navy gossamer fabric which cut off just below the small curve of her bust. And, as his eyes traversed past the sinewy structure of her abdomen, he noticed the seamless transition from skin to scale, where the body of the woman met the tail of a beast.

"She's…not human?"

Whatever she was, oblivious was definitely one of her qualities, for she took no notice of their words, and started clawing at the meshwork frantically, tears of desperation streaming down her face.

"Quick, nail it down!"

Gajeel did not appreciate being roughly shoved to the side as the sailors hammered sharp edged nails through the wooden floor of the deck, puncturing the old floorboards without caution. Underneath the net, the girl froze, and immediately curled up in on herself, holding her tail against her chest as though afraid they would nail it down, too.

"I don't believe it," Totomaru breathed, falling back on his haunches once the job was done. "It's a goddamn siren."

"A siren?" asked Gajeel. "Like a mermaid?"

"Never thought I'd live to see the day," said Sol, rubbing the lens of his glasses. "You hear the stories, but oh non non non, you never think that you would really..." he trailed off, silenced by sheer awe. "Keep far away from it, boys. They're deadly creatures, you know. Demons escaped from the pits of hell, some say."

A demon? His attentions crept back to the girl once again, noting the way she had buried her face into her arms, hiding as much as of herself as she possibly could. She sure doesn't look demonic.

"Shouldn't we just toss her back in, then?" asked Gajeel. "She'll swim off, and we'll be fine."

"Are you crazy?" responded Totomaru, jabbing Gajeel's forehead with his index finger. A very large, visible vein twitched angrily in his head, and he resisted the urge to snap the appendage off. "I've heard they sing to sailors from their holes in the bottom of the ocean, luring men into the water only so they can drag them down and eat their faces off! We let her out, back into home territory, and who knows what would happen to us!"

"I think we should take it back with us," said Sol thoughtfully, staring off into the distance.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Think about it! We've caught a siren. How much do you think people would pay to feast their eyes upon such a creature, or better yet, to own one, and keep it as a pet?"

Totomaru's eyes glazed over with promises of riches and treasures, and a wicked smile emerged from beneath the sharp points of Sol's moustache.

"Well?"

"...Let's do it!"

xxx

When the vessel was moored, and the only movements it made were small swerving motions from one side to the other, Gajeel could stomach staying onboard. Why he'd agreed to stay on the damned thing all night, however, he really couldn't say. Neither Sol nor Totomaru had wanted any other fishermen to spy their discovery, lest they attempt to steal her away, so they had moored the boat just outside the entrance of a cove a few miles off the port, which, while frequented during the day, was known to be completely abandoned when night fell. They'd asked him to keep an eye on the siren while they ran off to call José, along with colleagues to help transport her to a safer location (he'd inquired why they couldn't go instead, and came to the conclusion that they were a bunch of pansies, too afraid to stay near her on their own). They'd promised to cut him in for a quarter of the profits (of which they had vehemently guaranteed there would be plenty), hoping this would convince him. He didn't know what they planned to do with her, nor how they would obtain their money. He hadn't asked. He wasn't interested. He'd just shrugged his shoulders and told them he'd do it.

Under direction of a peaceful moon, the waves were gently, and they sent its pale rays flying back into the atmosphere with a delighted bounce. He was sat up against the walls of the helm, and she was only few feet opposite, draped across the width of the deck with the heavy net lying over her immobile form. Between them stood a small oil lamp, and the flame flickered playfully within, whimsically bouncing on and off the passengers as it pleased.

Neither had a said a word to each other. The silence was deafening; faint sounds of life from beyond the hills past the cove were carried to them by the gentle breeze, but from within the invisible barrier erected around the ship, they heard nothing. Weary of the tedium which had taken hold of the horrid craft, Gajeel couldn't resist experimentally shuffling one corner of the net with an outstretched foot.

There was no reaction. Retracting the limb, he scrutinised her form.

Maybe she needs water? He wasn't sure - she was a fish - or, at least, something like it. Of course she needs some fucking water! his subconscious scolded him. But she also looked pretty damn human, too, so who could blame him for second guessing himself, really? He reached to one of the bottles at his side, and tapped the cap thoughtfully.

"Oi, mermaid," he called out. She didn't move, but, the slight flutter of orange he spied could have been a reaction. "How do you feel about fresh water? Not as tangy as what you're used to, but I'm guessing it'll do the trick."

Cautiously, she pushed her body off the floor - the mesh weighed her down, and she struggled to lift herself, but, without a sound of complaint, she managed to sit up. Brown eyes locked with crimson ones - a multitude of emotions played over her face; fear, mistrust, sorrow, anger, but one stood out more than the others, and it was the longing for the bottle he toyed with beneath his fingertips. She tilted her head, presenting him with a small nod of affirmation. Unwilling to stand, he crawled over to the net and crouched down before it, twisting the bottle round in his hand.

"This ridiculous net is in the way though," he said thoughtfully. "If I let you out for just a moment, do you promise to play nice? No flesh-eating, soul-stealing, or whatever the hell it is you sirens do?"

"Do I really like I can do anything at all?" she asked, her tail swishing uselessly left and right, emphasising her words.

It was the first time he'd heard her voice.

A siren's song was capable of luring any sailor to his death. It was the popular myth, their trademark tool of murder, but boy was that myth misleading, because her song wasn't doing a god damn thing to him right then. But her voice! It flowed from her larynx like liquid crystal, captivating his senses one by one, entangling him in its dazzling peal. Oh, how it infected his brain, surging through his nerves in coral pink pulses, and he could not think beyond the explosions of colour reverberating through his skull.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," she gasped, her cheeks reddening in alarm. "I didn't mean to do that - it's just, it's hard to control, sometimes." Now, when she spoke, it was different - it was like any other old voice. The sensations which had engulfed him just a moment ago grew dim, nothing but a remnant of a pleasant dream.

"U-ah-mhhm," he pounded his chest with a clenched fist, trying to clear his throat - just when had it gotten so dry? Tugging at the collar of his shirt, he took a quick sip from the bottle, then got to work on pulling out the nails. "It wasn't…that bad…" he said gruffly, rubbing the tip of his nose with a clenched fist to hide the coral flush of his cheeks. Once he'd pried enough of them out, he planted the water in front of her and shuffled back, gluing his eyes to the faded tips of his boots.

Even with his gaze downcast, the flash of movement as she freed herself from the horrid mesh trap was clear as day. Risking an upward glance, he found her looking curiously at the plastic bottle, circling the lip of the bottle with a doubtful touch. Then, she picked it up between both hands, and took a tentative sip. "Ah!" She took another, this time for an entire minute, pulling at the bottle until it was completely drained. "Thank you!" She beamed gratefully at him, in such a sweet, innocent manner that he couldn't fathom what Totomaru and Sol had been so afraid of.

Still, he was perplexed, if nothing else. "Your voice," he began, staring at his boots once more, "it was - well, if you'd said something else to me, ordered me to do something, I would've done it in a heartbeat. I don't know why, but I'm certain of it. Why didn't you do that - or, actually, why aren't you doing that now?"

"I can't control it," she admitted bashfully, gnawing on the bottle's mouth. "I never could." Her fingers dug into the plastic, crinkling the material with sharp, crackling sounds. "Drown a man - well, that'd be easy enough, if I wanted to do it. But I couldn't even get him near the water."

"Easy enough," he echoed incredulously. "Oh. So you do eat faces, then!"

"No!" she cried, indignant as his accusation. "Give me some credit, why don't you!"

"But you drown men like me, huh?"

"Well I don't!" She folded her arms across her chest, bristling at the amused expression forming upon his face. Where was that embarrassed countenance from moments ago? She'd enjoyed that a whole lot more. "It's not like I would even if I could, anyway. You humans are pretty horrible," she huffed, "but I don't like the idea of polluting our homes with your corpses, thank you very much."

"We're pretty horrible? You've just admitted to drowning men! That's what you're known for! Pretty fucking horrible, if you ask me."

"You also kill your own kind - what makes us any worse than you?"

He didn't know how to respond, so he held his hands up in surrender, chuckling softly to himself. "Okay, okay - let's call it a draw." She appeared disgruntled for the most part, blowing out her cheeks in silent objection, but soon her arms had unfolded, and she exhaled loudly, accepting his truce. She ran a hand through her tangled locks, looking away from him with a slight pout upon her lips, and he drank her image in in silence, this strange creature from the bottom of the ocean. He didn't flinch when she caught him staring.

"W-what?" she stammered, shifting nervously.

"Do you have a name?"

Twisting a coil of hair around her finger, she responded, "Levy," unintentionally stealing the air from his lungs in the process. It was barely more than a murmur, yet her melody raced through his bloodstream, and his heart stuttered behind his ribs, crying out her name in a series of rapid palpitations.

"Christ, Levy, would you please stop doing that," he gasped.

"Sorry!" she squealed immediately, pressing her palm against her mouth.

"I feel like I'm being ravaged against my will," and, he silently added, I'm enjoying it far too much. A few seconds passed. She didn't say a word – perhaps he had deterred her a bit too harshly. "Y'know, some people say that I have a pretty pleasant voice, too," he remarked in a thinly veiled attempt at conversation.

"Do they?" she asked, her interest piqued. Her words were not mocking, nor derisive - they were full of an innocent curiosity, coaxing him to continue.

He graced her with a smug smirk, and jabbed his chest proudly. "That's right! I'm a signer too - well, on the side, anyway. On my free nights and all. The bars are always packed to the brim when I'm performing."

"R-really?"

He shuffled closer, nodding nonchalantly, keeping a cool facade like it was no big deal at all, and, failing to mention that quite a lot of the time the bars emptied out half-way through his sets. That had absolutely nothing to do with his music, though, so he kept the little tidbit to himself.

"Maybe you could teach me how to control my voice!" she suggested suddenly, leaning forward on her palms. The lamp between them burned brightly, dancing amidst the hazel flecks in her dark, dark eyes, and he had to clear his throat again as the proximity left him dehydrated. Imploring him with an eager, pleading look, what choice did he have but to bend to her will?

"Alright," he said, smiling a wide, cocky smile, "I don't have my guitar on me, so we'll have to make do without. Now, let's see what you can do - try repeating after me, alright?" She nodded, her features changing into one of complete solemness, and awaited his instruction. Drumming upon the wooden planks beneath him, he took a deep breath, and began.

"Shooby dooby bop," he growled, "colourful, colourful! Tremble with love!" His voice rumbled from his chest in deep, guttural vibration, and the chords ground against one another in a shiver-inducing finish, like two, sharp-edged lumps of iron being grated against one another.

It was rough, grainy, unlike anything she had ever heard before - all the other sirens had voices, well, exactly like hers, when she could actually utilise it. They were smooth, silky, tantalising in every aspect - and they were all the same. But this - she was in awe. "Oh my," she breathed, "that was wonderful!" She clapped her hands together enthusiastically, and her tail swished along with zeal. "How do you get your -"

"Yeah, yeah, it's great, I know," he said indifferently, waving her praise away. In spite of his apathetic reaction, his chest puffed out proudly, and he mentally pat himself on the back, thinking that if a fucking siren was reacting so well to his performance, he'd be hitting the big leagues in no time. Maybe he could even quit that god awful job in the fish market and put all his energy into show business. It was obviously bound to pay off. Eventually. "Focus on the lesson," he ordered (more to himself than to her), "and repeat after me."

"Shooby dooby bop," repeated Levy tentatively, but her voice was lacking something - it was too high, too sweet, and certainly nothing compared to what she had displayed before.

"No, no, no, you don't have that oomph," said Gajeel, shaking his head. "Damn. This might be harder than I thought. Try it again. Deeper. Rougher. Put some passion in it, ya know? If you want to control your voice, you gotta be able to manipulate it at will. Try again. Shooby dooby bop, steel gray metallic!" He snarled out the last word like an angry wolf, and she gazed at him admiringly before snapping back into her role as the serious student.

"Shoobee dooby bohp -"

"Steel graaaaay metallic!"

"Steeiil graaay metaaalic!"

The clamour of their practice echoed all throughout the cove, and it was a miracle that no-one was around to hear it.

"Shooby doo bop!"

"Shoeebee doo boop ~" she was doing her best, but to his trained ear, it just didn't quite cut it.

Reaching out his hand, he squeezed her cheeks between his thumb and index finger, compressing her lips until they were pursed completely outwards. "Try again," he said still holding her, "with more of that oooo~mph!"

"Duby duby duu da da da," she sang, although it sounded a lot more muffled with the sides of her mouth squished together. Yet, something had changed. The more she sang, the closer he scooted toward her, and the more easily it flowed out of her - the volume of her aria grew higher, and his heart hammered along with it. There were only inches between them, and he could see every crease in her lips, every wrinkle around her eyes, and her hair brushed past his fingers in a teasing manner, cooing along to her music, her voice, that sweet, wonderful voice which drowned him more than any ocean could. "Hey, I did it!" she exclaimed, abruptly ending her song, and, along with it, the spell she had placed upon him. Her fins smacked the ground with great fervour, and he abruptly released her from his grasp, allowing the corners of her mouth to stretch into a great, beaming smile.

Swallowing loudly, he leaned back on his palms, masking the irregular beat of his heart with a small, placid smile. "You sure did," he agreed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. A sudden gust of wind shook the boat, slapping him in the face with the sea's salty tang, and, along with it, the chattering of faraway figures. Scrambling onto his knees, he searched the hills, and his keen vision picked up movement just upon their tops, maybe ten, twenty minutes away.

"They're coming," he muttered, and his stomach twisted in on itself, for the first time not from seasickness.

The siren's face turned ashen, and her chin trembled. "O-oh, they're - it's those m-men, isn't it? The ones…the ones who want to take me o-onto land."

"Don't worry," he said instantly, turning back to her. "You'll be long gone before they get here."

"Huh?"

In one swift motion, he lifted her up in his arms, using one to support her torso, and the other, her tail. They're really smooth, he mused as her scales dragged against his skin. Slowly but steadily, he made his way to the deck's railing.

"W-what are you doing?" she hissed, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and trying not to flail her tail about, lest he end up dropping her.

"You need to hit me," he told her. Perplexed, she remained immobile in his arms. "Or punch me. Or bite me, or whatever. Something."

"W-why would I do that?"

"So that it looks like you escaped. Sure, you could've just sang to me and made me let you out, but it'll be more convincing if I have a bruise or two to show for it. Like you knocked me out cold."

"But -"

"Just do it!" he snapped.

Holding his breath, he squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the blow. He'd taken hits from bigger guys before, much larger men than him; she wouldn't be able to do much damage, but it would be enough. And then he could claim he'd been taken in by her song, fallen victim to her intoxicating charm, just like any other man would have.

At least that wouldn't be a lie.

As he clenched his jaw and awaited the blow, he didn't except the quick intake of breath, nor the velvet, crinkled lips which pressed against his. Baffled, he turned to stone, unmoving as she claimed his mouth in one sweet, gentle kiss.

And then there was a splash, and she was gone from his arms, leaving him completely unharmed, except for the number she'd done on his heart. Falling back on his rear, he took a deep, shaky breath, and scratched the back of his head, unable to do much else for the next few seconds.

"Damn," he mumbled. Sighing resignedly, he balled his hand into a fist, and shut his eyes tightly again. Guess I'll have to do this myself.

Sharp pain shot across his cheekbone, and he collapsed onto his back, dazedly staring at the starry night sky. As he stared at the twinkling lights, awaiting the arrival of his colleagues with the boat rocking comfortingly beneath him, he found himself thinking that maybe the sea wasn't so bad, after all.