This is the product of coffee, Aerosmith's "Love in an Elevator," a long drive, and FT binging. Happy (belated by a day) Birthday, Steven Tyler!

Love in an Elevator

Levy sighed in relief as the elevator dinged, wasting no time re-shouldering her bag and stepping inside the polished box. Her aching heels came down harder on the tile than she meant to, so it was really more like a stomp, but she was too tired to care. Hopefully her neighbor didn't notice.

Her mood wasn't great. A new shipment arrived at the library today, so she had spent most of the day shelving books, but before that, she'd had to sort out a messed up order.

Still, she politely stepped to one side of the elevator as her neighbor followed, trying not to rush as a large shadow loomed behind her.

He grunted as the doors slid closed and she hit the button to her floor. Then, she called up her customer service skills and offered him a friendly smile, subconsciously ran a hand over her stringy blue locks. "Which floor?" she asked, eying the dark-haired carefully.

He was probably the tallest man she had ever seen—which wasn't really saying that much considering she was on the opposite end of the spectrum. If she hadn't known better, he could've qualified for mob status with his stiff black suit and hair tied back, running in a ponytail behind him.

"Sixth," he rumbled after a moment, shifting enough to jam his hands into his pockets.

Levy hit both of their buttons—herself being one floor above him—and leaned back against the gold-tinted steel. The wooden panel bisecting the box was cold through her dress and her lips twisted, quickly turning her head away so her neighbor didn't think she was making faces at him.

It ended up not mattering, since he was pointedly looking away from her. She was pretty sure this was the son of the biggest steel baron in Magnolia—maybe even all of Fiore. Both of them had lived in the building for several years, but they hadn't talked before. Levy heard bits and pieces from Lucy, her best friend, who often rubbed elbows at all of her father's business get-togethers, and this guy seemed to fit the description.

His less-than-stellar personality was spot-on, from what she heard, but if not that, then the metal studs decorating his face would've given it away. They lined his eyebrows, nose, and even under his lip, but she couldn't really find them distasteful really. It was the opposite.

Business mongers weren't really her type, but by God he was sexy.

Then, he scowled as he noticed her staring. "What're you lookin' at, Shortstack?" he growled.

Levy bristled at the underhanded insult to her height. Even so, she couldn't stop the goosebumps that erupted over her skin at the rough timbre of his voice, but she didn't let him know that. Instead, she crossed her arms and huffed, feeling her hair brush her shoulders when she tossed her head. In her head, she batted down embarrassment at getting caught with a heavy tome.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

He narrowed his crimson eyes at her, jaw shifting as he prepared to bite out some retort. Thankfully, the elevator door dinged and slid open as they reached his floor. Levy tensed as he paused, expecting some sort of comeback. She met his gaze unflinching for several silent moments, but then he looked away.

Without a word, he stomped out, yanking on his tie as he went. He wasn't winning many awards with that charming personality.

That didn't stop her from watching as he untied his ponytail and let his dark mane of hair fall over his shoulders. His hands ran through it just before the elevator doors slid closed. It looked silky, and she bit back a pout, absently touching her own strings. Tall and great hair. Sometimes it just wasn't fair.

Her first encounter with him was brief but impressionable, she supposed. She just wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

.

.

The next time she saw him, he was being mobbed by a crowd.

Or at least that's what it looked like as she came through the revolving glass door. Once she was in the lobby proper, she noticed he was only being swarmed by two men with notepads and long jackets. Two very hyper men.

As she paused, Levy waved cheerfully at Mira, the receptionist, and tried to ignore the sly wink the platinum-haired woman gave her. With a gesture, Levy's attention was drawn back to the scene surrounding Gajeel Redfox.

She could admit—at least to herself—that despite being a rude ass, she was still curious. Curious enough that she had casually asked Mira what his name was this morning. It was the reader in her, probably.

Still, she hadn't liked that devilish look in the other woman's eyes.

"How do you feel about the merger with the Dragneels?" one of the men suddenly shouted, hands posed ready with pen and paper.

If possible, both of them crowded even closer to Gajeel, leaning close to hear his response. Even with the tiny bit she learned about him, Levy already knew that wasn't going to get them answers, but it seemed the two were a little slow. Or just persistent.

Gajeel growled something inaudible at them, running a hand over his head and through hair that wasn't tied back today. The tightness in his shoulders betrayed any sort of casualness, though. That and he was hitting the elevator button repeatedly.

For a second, she almost debated walking back out and going to her favorite coffee shop to read for a while. But she was tired, and if she wanted to get home, she had to go through... that.

Then she remembered that she was not a petty revenge-seeker either and decided to be the better person. Besides, she'd had a good day.

Sliding her red-winged glasses out of her pocket, she slipped them on and pulled her dress straight. It only took another second to remove her headband and twist her cyan locks up into a semi-neat bun that was probably appropriate for an office. She then borrowed a skill from one of her old teachers—looking down her nose even if Levy herself was five foot nothing. Taking a deep breath, she held her head high as she slid a clipboard out from her bag. It was really for inventory, but these two reporters didn't know that.

Stepping heavily so that her heels would echo sharply on the polished tiles, she caught Mira's amused smile. Levy could only shrug her shoulders.

The noise drew Gajeel's attention as his gaze left the men and locked onto her. She could almost see the ripple in his forehead as he tried to process what she was doing.

Levy drew a finger to her lips and nodded toward the reporters. Secretary, librarian—what was the difference?

Coming up behind the two who were still trying to shout questions at Gajeel, she stomped her foot and cleared her throat much louder than necessary. Immediately, the two stumbled back in opposite directions, leaving a path between her and Gajeel open. They looked at her curiously but stopped their onslaught of chatter.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," she began, mimicking the stern librarians she had grown up with, "but Mr. Redfox has prior engagements this evening." She made a show of looking down at her clipboard, as if checking a schedule.

One of the two, only momentarily surprised, stepped forward and made to open his mouth. Immediately, she whirled on him and held up a hand. To his credit, he shrunk back, even if he was much taller than she was.

"If you want to talk to him, you two can show up during standard business hours, just like everyone else," she added, letting her voice drop. "Furthermore," she pressed, "if you continue to harass Mr. Redfox at his personal dwelling, legal action will be taken."

The reporter paled slightly and stepped back. She leveled a glare at the other man too, but he looked much the same. A glance at Gajeel showed a studded brow raised, but he stayed silent. Thankfully, the other two were too distracted by her to see his look.

She had no idea if what she said was true or not, but that wasn't the point. Confidence was key to everything. Gajeel didn't protest, and neither did the other two, so maybe they believed her.

Before someone remembered what the actual law was, the elevator dinged. Gajeel wasted no time in getting away. What surprised her is that he held the door open and called, "Miss McGarden."

Levy blinked, surprised he knew her name, but she schooled her face so they didn't give the game away. With a final huff, she tossed her head and gave the two reporters one last look. "Rude," she said, as she stepped next to Gajeel. Then, acting like she had some authority in the place, called a little louder, "Elfman, please escort these gentlemen out."

As she and Gajeel entered the elevator, she got to see the two reporters' forms shrink as they caught sight of the muscled, white-haired security guard. As Elfman picked the two up by the collars of their jackets, she heard him vigorously shout, "Men respect privacy!" just before the doors slid closed.

She pressed their floor buttons and waited. They were silent for a moment as the machine whirred to life and started its ascent. Then, Levy broke down into giggles.

Curling over her stomach, her hair shook loose as she laughed. Even better was when his own gravelly voice joined hers. Grinning at him, she said, "Did you see their faces? I didn't think that would work."

She didn't drop the smile as she slipped her glasses off her nose and back into her pocket. In response, Gajeel took off his jacket and folded it over and arm, loosening his tie a second later.

"Gihi," he laughed, and she tilted her head at the strangeness of it. "Not bad, Shrimp."

Levy pouted at the nickname, remembering a little too late that Lucy said it made her look like a puffer fish when her cheeks were flushed—and they definitely were now. She wasn't that short!

Before she could chastise him about inappropriate nicknames—another one!—she caught him rubbing the back of his dark head awkwardly. And, if she wasn't seeing things in the poor light, the tips of his ears were turning red.

"Thanks," he mumbled, looking at the floor. "And...sorry. Fer the other day," he bit out after.

It was a little unnatural, like he didn't do it very often. But she still appreciated it. "We all have bad days," she offered. "I think I'd go crazy if I had to deal with idiots like that all the time."

He flashed her a grin as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to his floor. Stepping between the threshold, he paused for a second and dug in his shirt pocket, pushing a small, white card into her hands.

"Here," he said. Rough hands brushed over hers, like he had spent more time in a factory than an office. "If they bother you, I'll take care of it."

Gajeel left her no time to accept or deny. Instead, he strode down the hall and didn't look back.

The card in her hand was embossed, but it didn't seem like much of a business card—more like a personal one. It only had his name, cell, and email on it.

Levy shook her head, but the remnant of a smile was stuck on her face.

.

.

A few weeks later, she came home to a cat in the lobby.

Levy stood on her tiptoes as she leaned over the reception desk, but Mira was nowhere to be found. In fact, there was nobody around. The only noise was the soft music from the bar at the other end of the ground floor.

Going back to the elevators, she found the cat scratching at the doors. He was dark furred, with slightly rounded ears and a scar across one of his eyes. A collar jingled around his neck as he stretched up and pawed. Did he belong to someone here, then?

"Hey, there," she called softly, crouching down to be closer to the floor—which wasn't very hard, considering how small she was.

The cat immediately stilled and sat, eying her carefully. Levy tried not to shiver, as if the feline was judging her.

Then, he suddenly ran forward and rubbed against her knees, pushing his head into her dangling hand. A low rumble sounded from his throat, and Levy caved.

Scooping him up into her arms, she couldn't help but coo and say all those other embarrassing things people do to their pets. After his ears had been thoroughly rubbed, she hit the elevator button and took a look at his collar. "Pantherlily," she read, twisting the small charm over. Sure enough, there was an address for the building on the reverse side, for the sixth floor.

Wait. The sixth floor was where—Could it really be...?

The door dinged and Levy stepped inside, cat still in her arms. As the box rose higher, she absently ran her fingers through the dark fur.

When the doors opened again, she was met with a metal-studded face. Gajeel stopped abruptly, like he had been charging forward. Then, his gaze fell down to her arms. "Lily!" he called.

Levy blinked for a second but then quickly stepped off the elevator, forcing Gajeel to take a step back. The joy on the man's face was adorable. She didn't take him for a cat person. "He was in the lobby," she said.

"Shit, I didn't think he'd get that far. Sorry if he..." Gajeel trailed off and looked at her strangely.

"If he what?" she asked, still absently rubbing the cat's head.

Gajeel was staring at the black feline. "He doesn't like people... much," he said.

As if Lily could understand him, he rubbed his head into Levy's hand and wiggled so his belly was exposed, purring even louder. The man and his cat were sharing a look that she didn't know how to interpret.

She shrugged. "Cats have always liked me," she said. "I'm glad he isn't hurt."

Very carefully, Levy handed Lily over to Gajeel. The man was not as gentle. The cat yowled as soon as Gajeel had ahold of him, but that was probably due to the rapid head rub the man gave him.

Shaking her head, Levy tried to excuse herself. "Well, Mr. Redfox—"

"Gajeel." At her blank look, he added, "Call me Gajeel."

He held a hand out, and she shook it. "Levy," she told him.

With a grin that made some of his piercings twist curiously, he said, "Thanks again, Shorty."

If he didn't look so good, she'd want to smack that smirk right off his stupid face. She puffed out her cheeks, arms akimbo. "It's Levy."

But he was already walking away, holding up a hand in farewell.

She shook her head as he entered his apartment. Funnily enough, his suite was right under hers.

.

.

It occurred to Levy that she might be slightly drunk.

Normally, she wasn't a drinker, but Levy had had a rough day, and well, Cana insisted. And it was really hard to turn the alcohol-enthusiast down.

She couldn't even remember what the drink was called. Some sort of tea? She vaguely remembered Cana spouting that it was "tea Tuesday." Levy knew it hadn't been much like iced tea, but it was a pretty auburn color, and the more she drank, the better it tasted.

But now she was in trouble. The dark-haired bartender had that glint in her eye—which wasn't from her own drinking, even if she did so constantly—but Levy couldn't seem to puzzle out just what the other woman was up to.

"Oi, Redfox," Cana suddenly called out, waving someone down.

Eyes wide, Levy realized too late that Mira had likely poisoned the barmaid. And thanks to her semi-regular visits in the last few weeks, Cana had all the ammunition about Gajeel Redfox that she needed.

Levy tried to slide off the bar stool, but it was a lot higher than she remembered. Her legs sort of folded under her as she hit the floor, pitching her backward until she hit a solid wall. A wall that was rumbling with laughter against her back.

She looked up to see a mane of dark hair as a muscled arm shot out to steady her. He was too damn tall.

"Redfox, you mind taking her up? She's a little tipsy."

Levy tried to glare at the predatory gleam in Cana's eyes but only managed to make herself dizzy. Instead, she crossed her arms and pouted. "'M not," she mumbled, trying to take a step forward. When she succeeded, she gave Cana a look to say, see?

And then she proceeded to trip with the next one.

Gajeel's hand shot out again to grip her shoulder effortlessly, like she weighed nothing. Where his palm touched, heat erupted over her bare shoulder. She shivered.

"I see what ya mean," he said. Then, he sighed. "Come on, Shorty."

He helped her shuffle to the elevators—and it was shuffling, because anything else and she stumbled too much. But she didn't mind really, since his hair brushed her shoulders sometimes. His arm was also around her shoulders with his sleeves rolled up. She discovered that he had additional piercings on his arms and that he probably worked out if the muscle tone was anything to go by.

Combined with the fact that he was missing a jacket and a few of his buttons were undone, he was very yummy. And she was only mildly sure that was the alcohol talking.

"Didn't take you for the drinking type," he said, one they were in the elevator. It was more of a rumble really, pressed against him like she was. She turned so her forehead was touching his chest.

"'M not really," she admitted, closing her eyes. "But that asshole at work and then I got mad and Cana was there and..." She sighed as she trailed off.

Gajeel was silent for a second, and then he hesitantly asked, "Rough day, huh?"

She could tell he probably didn't really want to know, but she also knew, from hanging out with Cana too much, that drunks really liked to spout out all their problems and if they didn't, they got emotional. And that was messy. It was funny that she could process all of that but still want to indulge. Maybe she wasn't that drunk. Either way, she babbled.

As they went to her apartment, she told him all about that jerk at the library who had made a big scene, implying what she was reading wasn't fit for a woman. If she wanted to read about nautical welding or how to forge a sword, that was her business! She hadn't hesitated to tell him so.

And then, because she was clearly superior in formatting a logical argument, he had insulted her height.

She suddenly stopped halfway down her hallway, stepping away and putting her hands on her hips. "Can you believe that?" she demanded. She tried to ignore the amused look on Gajeel's face. "As if my height had anything to do with anything!"

Then, her balance left her, and she tipped. Gajeel's hand shot out again—how many times was that now?—catching her elbow and snagging her before she fell backward. Instead, she fell into him.

Levy lost track of what she was talking about as she buried her nose in his shirt. He smelled good. A hand on her shoulder came up to steady her, but she was more interested in how well she fit under his arm. He was warm too, and her toes curled and she leaned even closer. Maybe this haze wasn't so bad. Was this how Cana felt all the time?

He coughed and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. "Should probably get you home."

She closed her eyes and listened to the way his heart beat. "Okay."

They made it to her door, but when she took out her keys, she couldn't quite make it fit into the lock. Reaching around her, Gajeel had to help. A grin lit her face, but it dropped soon after as she turned around. He towered over her.

"What's wrong with being short?" she whined, rubbing her arm.

"Nothin'."

Levy pouted as she craned her neck to look at his face. He was so tall, so how would he know? It should be illegal to be as giant as he is. She crossed her arms. "I'm totally fun, too," she added, as if that could make up for being vertically challenged.

Gajeel's grin soon turned into a hearty laugh as he threw his head back, sending his hair flying for a second. She thought maybe he had a little to drink too, since there was the slightest hint of pink on his face.

Then, surprising her so much that she almost toppled over, he ruffled her stringy hair. "'course you are," he answered. "Ain't all midgets fun-sized?"

Levy was still grinning like a fool as he walked back to the elevator, the rumble of his laughter still echoing in her ears.

See? Totally fun.

.

.

Levy tried not to tap her foot as she waited for the elevator to reach the ground floor. Next to her, a tall, blue-haired man was trying to pull off what she supposed would be an attractive smolder if he hadn't been sloshed. He had followed her from the bar even after she had declined a drink from him.

The man leaned in close, giving her a good look at the tattoo on his forehead—two Cs back-to-back—and the alcohol on his breath had her leaning away. She discreetly hit the call button twice more.

Mira was nowhere to be found, and she couldn't catch sight of Elfman either. Were they on break or something? That meant she had to deal with this fool by herself.

"You should probably go home," Levy told him as she stepped away.

He followed with a wobbly step. "But I am home, m' dear," he said, probably attempting for smooth but only managing a slur. A flash of panic went through her. He didn't live here, did he?

But then he continued, and she felt a vein start to throb in her forehead. "Home is where the heart is, no? And my heart seems to have been swept away by you..."

Levy sighed. She hated being rude to people, but this was getting out of hand. Maybe he was a nice guy normally, but he was obnoxious right now. "Listen—" she started, whipping her head around and making her hair fly out.

She was cut off as the man reached up toward her face, probably to tuck her hair back behind her ear. Before she could slap it away herself, a tanned hand closed around the drunk's wrist.

"Oi, she told you to get lost," Gajeel growled, yanking the offending arm away. Levy saw the twist of pain on the other man's face before Gajeel sent him stumbling backwards with a less-than-polite shove.

She let out a sigh of relief as an arm wrapped around her. Subconsciously, she leaned into his warmth. "There you are, Gajeel," she said, sending him a thankful look. Reaching up to grab the arm snug around her shoulders, she got into the act. "Mr..." she trailed off, looking at the blue-haired man expectantly.

"I'm Bora," he supplied.

"...was just leaving," she finished.

"But—" Bora tried to protest, a wrinkle of confusing appearing on his forehead.

"Beat it, pipsqueak," Gajeel growled, pulling her against him and giving the other man a withering look.

Thankfully, the elevator reached the lobby, and he wasted no time pulling her into the box. Levy could only follow.

He still had a tight grip on her, even when she let her own arm drop back to her side. Tucking her own hair behind her ear, she couldn't help but feel the rigid tension in his shoulders.

"That happen often?" he ground out, glaring at the reflective walls.

Not by the right people, she thought, barely holding back a sigh.

Instead, she shrugged. "Sometimes. Tends to happen when single." Something that her mother reminded her about often.

She slipped out from underneath his arm and Gajeel didn't protest, dropping his arms. She leaned against the elevator wall, picking at her dress. This was not how she wanted her night to go.

As she watched him, his hands clenched and unclenched tightly at his sides, coloring his knuckles. He was still trying to melt the wall with his stare, not looking at her.

Despite his gruff exterior, he was just a big softie, she decided. Who would've thought that someone so macho would get upset at harassing women? He liked cats and was protective. Levy didn't hold back her sigh this time. Did he know how attractive that was?

"...Levy," he suddenly said.

She blinked. Had he ever used her name before?

But he didn't continue. Instead she watched as he opened his mouth to speak and cut himself off several times. With a frustrated sigh, he paced for a second before stopping in front of her, rubbing the back of his head.

She could only tilt her head in confusion. When his eyes snapped up, he said the last thing she was suspecting.

"Wanna change that?"

She was still processing his words as he towered over her, reaching up one arm to brace against the shiny wall while leaning in. His breath mingled with hers for just a second before he closed the distance between them.

His lips were soft, and she nearly melted. The touch was feather light against her, a gentleness she wasn't expecting, and he gave her plenty of space to push him away.

And then her brain caught up with her and her hands automatically reached into his hair, shifting through his dark mane. It really was as silky as it looked.

She tugged, and that was all the permission Gajeel needed. He stepped closer, boxing her in with his arms as he fit one to her hair and the other ran down her side to her hip. She gripped his collar and pulled him even closer, his body pressing her against the wall.

Trailing kiss down her neck, the cool metal of his piercings sent tiny jolts through her system. Levy threw her head back and hissed "Yes," not really knowing if it was in response to the electricity crackling on her skin or his question. Maybe both. He had asked her something, right?

One of her legs slid upward to pull him closer, and immediately his hand moved down to catch it, tugging it against her side. When he leaned, she brought the other one up too, bracing her back against the elevator and rolling her hips against his front.

"Fuck," he hissed between clenched teeth, and she agreed. It had been way too long, and maybe not just for her either.

His rough hands ran over her nylon and she shivered at the feeling, his hands slipping under her dress and underneath her. Levy tugged his lips back to her by his hair and fought not to drown.

When he pulled away, she was gasping for breath, her chest heaving against his. The elevator door dinged. Gajeel set his forehead against hers as her feet slid back down to the floor. Remembering how to stand was difficult when her legs felt like jelly.

She glanced at the open door. Good thing nobody was standing there. Then she flicked her eyes back in front where crimson ones were staring at her.

A little breathless, she asked, with a small grin, "Do you want to come up?"

Gajeel smirked at her, and she felt his hands twist in her dress at the hip.

"I'd rather go down."

Then, he proceeded to slide his body down hers as the elevator doors closed.

"Gajeel!"

"Gihi!"

Thank you for reading! Writing in this fandom is very challenging (and something I thought I'd never do). Any and all feedback is appreciated!