A/N: Fairy Tail does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. Thank you for your understanding.
Ahh, well, day 3 is gonna be just a bit late, so, please accept day 4 a little early to make up for it~
"I'm back," he kicked the door closed behind him, bags in his arms.
"Hey, did you get everything?" He stepped into the kitchen, sliding them on the table before rolling his shoulders. He stepped around the island, going to the fridge and opening it, beginning to put everything away.
"Didn't have your tea, so I—"
"NO!" he ignored the thud and the rapid footsteps making their way towards him.
"—so I picked some up from that place on the way back." The steps stopped short before pattering closer. He grinned at the arms wrapping around him, tilted his head to the side to watch as she nuzzled against his back. "I know, I'm the best," he pushed the block of cheese into its designated drawer and closed the fridge. She moved with him as he stepped back towards the island, taking boxes and cans out of the bags before balling them up and shoving them in their little fabric bag holder decorated with cats (a house-warming gift from Wendy).
"You are the best~" Her voice was only muffled a bit from his shirt.
"Picked up some of those scones you liked too, since I was there." There was a hitch in her breathing and his grin grew while her hold tightened.
She abruptly let go, stepping back. "Alright, what did you do? You're being too nice." He turned, just about ready to clutch at his heart and begin the theatrics.
But he could only stare.
She looked normal, in a light pink t-shirt that was possibly just a size too small, and tight jean shorts. True, while even just her casual clothes were enough to make him stare—given all that delicious skin—this was something else entirely.
She wore no make-up, save her darkened lips. And while lipstick wasn't uncommon (she much preferred chapstick) it was the maroon color now painted on her.
"What?"
He swallowed. "Trying something new, Blondie?" He prided himself on how level his voice was, not letting it slip at all that the color was doing things to him.
"Mm? Oh, right," she raised a hand, brushing at her lips. "Forgot I put it on… Yeah, picked it up yesterday. Wanted to see if I liked it." She smiled and if he was a lesser man, he might've just confessed his undying love to her right there.
But he was not. So he didn't. He smirked instead, masking his approval splendidly. "Well, ya look pretty punk, Princess." She huffed, cheeks filling with air and pouting—ah, there he goes, this is how he dies, done in by a lipstick of all things. Jesus Christ, the color should be illegal on his girlfriend.
"Punk?" He can only nod. "Hmph, I'll show you punk," she turned sharply on her heel, hips swaying as she went.
"Oi, where's my kiss?" She glanced over her shoulders and, wait, were his knees trembling? Not cool. Totally not cool.
"Ohh? Does that mean you… like the color on me?" she raised a brow. She was teasing him now, of-course she was. But he stepped out of the kitchen, crossing to where she had stopped before cupping her cheeks, tilting her head back.
"Well, it is my favorite color," he hummed.
To his utmost joy, the color painted on her lips actually stayed there instead of transferring to his. A+, would highly recommend. Ten out of ten.
"I'm baaack…" and god was he tired. Why, exactly did he decide the best use of his time and knowledge would be to work in a lab? Oh, right, because he was blackmailed into assisting the police once and then all of a sudden he was 'needed' and 'we'd like to offer you a full-time position' turned him into a, he shudders at the thought, respectable team leader. The first and last time he ever helped that demon redhead and now he's stuck working with lunatics at ungodly hours. "Luce?" Like right now. At one in the morning after being called in because some idiot choked on fugu and they couldn't work the damn machine that would tell them what kind of poison he died from.
Stupid thing wasn't plugged in.
"Mm, I'm up," she drawled from their room. His head tilted back as he took in a deep breath, totally ready to absolutely drop and fuck anyone who tried to call him before eleven. "You coming back to bed?" there was a yawn and he shrugged out of his coat, bag dropped on the arm chair, lanyard with numerous keys and ID sliding across the table where he threw it.
"Coming." He was practically sleep walking at this point, eyes slipping closed as he made the familiar walk to their room, only opening them to smile sleepily at her from the doorway.
And freeze.
She was wearing that lipstick again. And, wow, okay, it's been awhile since he's seen those black leather shorts. The corset was new though.
The candles cast shadows dancing across her skin, her smile dark.
"Sh-shit…" Her lips pulled back to show her teeth, obviously enjoying herself.
"Welcome back," she purred, rising herself up from where she'd been laying, grinning. "I missed you."
"Lucy, what the hell? It's one in the morning?" Not that he was complaining, he was definitely awake now.
"Mm, but you don't work tomorrow, and I called off…" she tilted her head slightly and he noticed the darkness around her eyes wasn't just because of the shadows; she pulled out all the stops this time.
"Woman, you will be the death of me," but he was smirking all the same, kicking the door closed behind him.
(She decided she liked the color and he was about ready to strangle her when she wore it the next time they went out. It was either her or all the guys staring at her and mass murder was often frowned upon.)