Work Text:
Freed sipped his drink as he leaned against the bar, content to stay out of the main ebb and flow of the club. It had been a while since he had been to Fairy Tail, and it was busier than the last time he’d let Ever and Bickslow haul him down here after a long week of work. Hell, it had been a while since he’d done much other than work, attempt to catch up on chores around the house when he was off, and catch rare peaceful moments at the local coffee shop. After months of that, he was finding the noise and sheer presence of the crowd a little bit overwhelming, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his friends had been pleading with him to come out with them for ages, he might have already given up for the night. The thought of his own bed, and the book that had left off at an annoying cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter, were incredibly tempting.
He stirred the ice in his soda with the straw. Mira had smiled at him when she’d handed it over, ignoring Bickslow protesting that he needed to have a proper drink. It wasn’t that he didn’t drink, it was just hard to let himself relax enough to let go like that. He’d always struggled with it, and even with the safety net that was his friends, tonight was not the night for it.
As though they knew his thoughts were wandering to them, Ever and Bickslow materialised beside him. Ever slipping onto the stool beside him, sparkling green as the spotlights caught her dress and grinning as she leaned against his shoulder.
“You should come and dance,” Ever said, a pleading note in her voice that spelled trouble and even as he shook his head, he knew he would be on that dancefloor before the end of the night. She was about the only person who could wheedle him into doing stuff he really didn’t want to do, without resorting to blackmail – one of Bickslow’s favourite tricks- or worse. “I will in a bit,” he adjusted his answer slightly, knowing better than to set himself a timer, because even tipsy she would remember and be there on the minute.
“You need to let your hair down,” Bickslow teased, leaning over to tug lightly on Freed’s ponytail, worn lower tonight and tied loosely over his shoulder. As relaxed as he could ever let himself become when he was in public. Anyone else and he would have tensed at the gesture, but Bickslow did it a dozen times a week, always gentle, and now he smiled leaning back to look up at the taller man.
“You say that, but I remember what you looked like last week when you rolled up for breakfast after a night of letting down your hair,” Freed retorted. “I believe you greener than the smoothie Ever forced you to drink.” He actually hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to turn that colour, and he’d almost dragged Bickslow to work out of concern for him. But, Ever swore by that monstrous hangover cure of hers and even though he’d thought Bickslow was going to expire just from the taste of it, it had rather quickly returned him to a normal colour.
“That was then,” Bickslow said, waving a hand as though to banish the memory. “This is now.”
“And you think adding my suffering to yours would make it better?” Freed asked and instantly regretted it when Bickslow nodded enthusiastically. “Bickslow…”
“You’re an idiot,” Evergreen added to the conversation, flagging Mira down to order more drinks. Eyeing Freed’s nearly empty glass knowingly and asking for a soda. Freed flushed slightly, but she smiled, not pushing as she reached out to elbow Bickslow in the side. Hard, by the way the other man doubled over.
“Why do I even put up with you?” Bickslow demanded, even as he accepted the fresh drink Ever had ordered for him with a smile.
“Because we’re the only ones who will put up with you?” Ever asked.
“Freed,” Bickslow whined. “She’s picking on me.”
“She always picks on you,” Freed pointed out. Not for the first time wondering how on earth the three of them had become friends, even as he smiled at their antics.
“Exactly,” Bickslow argued.
“You make it so easy,” Ever teased, sipping her own drink. “It’s busy tonight, I thought it would be quieter…” A quick glance at Freed, aware that he preferred quieter evenings and that he’d been partially lured by her promise that it wouldn’t be too busy – it was midweek after all, so it had been reasonable to expect it to be a little quieter.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, and he was. Content to let the chaos weave around him, and enjoying the bubble that the other two built around him with their own brand of chaos. “And it has been too long since we’ve done something like this, and…”
“Freed!” The rest of his words went unspoken and unforgotten as Mira appeared next to Bickslow, her relaxed smile from earlier gone. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not working tonight but we’ve had an incident at the door and one of the bouncers is injured and is refusing to go up to the hospital. Would you take a look at him and tell me if I need to shove his ass into a taxi?”
“Of course,” Freed pushed his drink away and got to his feet. Hearing Ever’s muted protest and smiling at Bickslow as his friend stopped her from intervening. He loved her for wanting him to switch off for a while, but there was no way he could sit here when he knew someone was hurt. “Lead on,” he said to Mira, who had caught the byplay but looked relieved at his agreement.
It felt like it took an age to get back to the entrance, even though Mira seemed to part the crowd like the tides as she marched forward with determination and Freed bobbed along in her wake.
The entrance foyer was sealed off, the ribbons usually only pulled out on the busiest nights were currently pulled out to stop anyone coming in and diverting the trickle of people heading home for the night around a glistening patch of shattered glass and spilled drinks, one of the curtains that decorated the wall ripped and partially hanging off. “What happened?” He asked, able to catch up with Mira now and hear himself speak and think.
“Some kids who’d had a bit too much to drink during pregaming didn’t want to take no for an answer when they were prevented from coming in,” Mira replied tightly. Freed hummed in understanding, he’d dealt with his own fair share of people like that when their drinking had led to misadventure that landed them in the hospital. “Were any of them hurt?”
“No,” Mira scowled. Freed understood, but he had to be sure. “Through here,” she guided him through a set of double doors to the right of the entrance that he hadn’t noticed before. Inside was a corridor that looked more homely than something he would’ve expected to see in a nightclub, all soft sage walls, plants on shelves and a long, low sofa along the wall with a man sat there pressing gauze to a bloody arm.
Freed blinked, recognising the bouncer who had been on the door when they’d arrived. Laxus, he vaguely remembered Ever saying as they’d gone past, although he’d not heard anything else she said, somewhat distracted by the man who had to be the most casually intimidating man he’d ever seen, and not hard on the eyes either – something Ever had noticed and dug an elbow in his ribs to stop him doing anything embarrassing. He swallowed now, especially when the man glanced up at them, intense gaze settling on them.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Freed Justine, the doctor I mentioned,” Mira replied, before Freed had even started to weigh up that question – half challenge, part suspicious and less than welcoming, and he paused mid-step.
“How much have you had to drink?” Laxus demanded, focusing on Freed alone and that gaze felt like a physical force waiting to push him back if he didn’t pass this test.
“Laxus he’s been on soda all night,” Mira interrupted before Freed even had a chance to answer. “Let him look at you.”
“But…”
“That’s an order,” she cut across him, and Freed decided there and then that he didn’t ever want to get on the wrong side of Mira. Laxus opened his mouth to keep protesting, took one look at the expression on her face and snapped it shut again before turning his gaze on Freed, who met it as calmly as possible. He was used to difficult patients after all, but this wasn’t work, and usually he didn’t have his heart doing a traitorous dance in his chest; and he just knew that he was never going to hear the end of this. Ever would take one look at him and know, she always did, which had long been a blessing and a curse.
“Fine,” Laxus muttered.
Freed took that as permission and closed the distance between them, crouching down in front of Laxus and reaching for the injured arm, sharp eyes taking in the open first-aid kit on the sofa beside him. “What happened?” He asked, quietly demanding an answer, all business and he pulled the gauze away, relieved when although Laxus tensed he didn’t fight him. There was a nasty gash beneath the gauze, stretching along the edge of his wrist almost up to the elbow. Not deep enough to be life threatening, but definitely more than could be dealt with properly in a nightclub corridor with a first aid kit.
“Some kid throwing a tantrum,” Laxus muttered, only to grunt as a hovering Mira slapped the side of his head. Not enough to hurt him but demanding. “Smashed the bottle of wine he was coming in with and lunged at me, threw my arm up to protect myself and…” He tilted his head at the injury. “The others got the kids out, police are on the way, and…”
“You need to go and get this cleaned up properly and stitches,” Freed cut off what he knew instinctively were going to be his two least favourite words ‘I’m fine’. His hands didn’t betray his annoyance or the continued dance of his heart as he pulled wipes from the kit, cleaning what he could, wanting to see if there was glass in the wound.
“I…”
“That bottle wasn’t likely to be clean, glass cuts are deep, and I can’t guarantee there’s nothing left in there,” Freed cut across the protest. He couldn’t see anything glistening amongst the blood, or feel anything beneath his ministrations, but he knew how easy it was to miss, and the lighting wasn’t the best here. “Mira, you might want to call that taxi.”
“On it, and I’ll ask Lisanna to cover for me.”
“You don’t need to…”
“Finish that sentence Laxus Dreyar and you will regret it,” Mira snapped at him, before marching away and Freed barely smothered a smile as Laxus huffed and subsided.
“She’s a good boss,” he murmured, still cleaning, even as he worked out what was left. He needed to wrap it, not least to save some poor taxi driver having to scrub blood out of his car.
“…she is.” He hadn’t expected Laxus to agree with him, and glanced up at him, blinking at him in surprise and the other man grinned. “What? I’m not daft enough to disagree with that assessment.”
“Smart man,” Freed commented and went back to work, but now he was aware of Laxus watching him work. Not awkwardly, but almost curious. The gaze burned into him, and he prayed his ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were at the attention. He buried it, focused.
“Sorry for ruining your night out…”
“You didn’t,” Freed replied instantly, glancing up even as he wrapped the arm in gauze. “Promise,” he added, seeing the doubt in Laxus’ expression. “This is what I do.” Simple. True.
He missed the way Laxus’ eyes widened at the declaration, focused on trapping the gauze in place, putting pressure to encourage the bleeding to stop. Blind to the gaze that followed his movements, lingering on his fingers working as he tied off the bandage, but catching the edge of a small smile when he glanced up. “You’ll survive, but the hospital is still necessary,” he said, not wanting to let the other man seize on the first words and forget about the hospital, not that Mira would let him.
“… thank you.” Soft, quiet gratitude, so much at odds with the earlier suspicion that Freed rocked back on his heels. Flustered in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.
“It’s not a problem,” he managed to say, before Mira reappeared with her coat on and bag in hand.
“Taxi will be here in a couple of minutes,” she said catching his look. He lifted an eyebrow, well aware of how hard it could be to get a taxi at this time of night if it wasn’t pre-booked, a few long walks home from the hospital teaching him that. “I asked nicely,” she said, correctly interpreting his look and her smile was anything but nice.
“Taxi is going to dump is in the middle of nowhere,” Laxus muttered, having also caught it and Freed had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, coughing as Mira whirled on him.
“I will dump you in the middle of nowhere if you don’t behave yourself.”
Freed believed her. Apparently Laxus did too because he subsided, studying his bandaged arm for a moment before focusing on him once more; and Freed braced, not sure what to make of the expression on his face. Waiting for the complaints, for the grumbles about pain, worried he might have missed something, that he had…
“Freed…” Hearing his name on the tip of Laxus’ tongue did nothing for the lingering heat in the tips of his ears, and he could feel it threatening to creep into his cheeks. “…want to grab coffee at some point? As thanks for…” he lifted the hand to gesture, winced and set it down, as both Freed and Mira glared at him. “Once it’s better of course,” he added quickly.
“I’d like that,” Freed smiled, and his heart did that dance again when this time his smile was returned.
Ever is going to have a field day with this.