What Teenagers Do in Basements

Basement.

{So when had they started making out? }

Like really making out? Big, French, swapping spit making out? Natsu wasn't sure, but suddenly his hands were on Lucy's ass and she wasn't complaining because her mouth was much too busy being fastened against his.

Her mouth was a sweet, intoxicating ride. A mixture of spices and sugars. Tang and milk. Or something to that effect. Natsu really didn't have time to consider it since his mind was too busy being overtaken by raging hormones and his hands were busy feeling up her ass—very good ass, Lucy, running from evil people bent on killing us has done you some good.

Then the trance was broken and they were jumping away from each other, like they had been electrocuted. Maybe they had been. There certainly was this zing in his veins. It felt like someone had stabbed him with a rod of electricity.

"You kissed me!" Lucy screeched angrily, glaring at him as if he had just insulted her mother. "I can't believe you just kissed me! You pervert!"

"Jesus f-ing," Natsu began and cut himself off. "I kissed you? You were the one that had your mouth all over mine!" Not that he didn't like it. Not that Natsu was admitting that. There were some things you didn't talk about. Especially if they involved hormones, breasts, and/or sex. Natsu was an all-or-nothing kind of guy so all three applied to him. Best thing to do was shut up.

Lucy wasn't having it. "What? You kissed me first! I was just reacting in my own defense!" It sounded lame, even to Natsu who was usually oblivious to all things feminine.

"Yeah, reacted with your tongue!"

"Don't you ever touch me again," Lucy snapped as if he hadn't spoken. "You stay on that side of the icebox and I'll stay on mine." She drew an invisible line in the air with her finger, giving Natsu the smaller side. The bitch.

"Fine. And it's a basement." He stomped over to his side of the basement. Then he watched as Lucy took her seat. Then it dawned on him. "You have my vest. Goddamnit." All of that unfair, unjust things...

So they sat there on their sides of the icebox/basement/thing. Lucy was doing something with her nails while Natsu counted... stuff. Stuff like the darker gray spots on the wall—there were six thousand nine hundred and eight two of them—and lighter gray spots on the wall—nine thousand two hundred and twelve—until his mind was practically bursting with boredom.

Then he noticed something. They were both closer to each other than they had been. The imaginary air-line was the only thing separating them. "Hey," he complained instantly, opening his mouth without thinking about it. "You're moving onto my side!"

Lucy glared at him. "I am not! You're on mine!"

"Am not!"

"Are, too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Yeah... well... well... I'm cold!" Natsu lamely protested as he crossed his arms and glared at the door blocking sweet freedom. The door was Satan. That was just it. The door was the antichrist. "And you've got my vest. Because I'm a nice guy."

"Okay, sure, nice guy," Lucy snorted in obvious disbelief. "Whatever you say. I'll remind you of that next time you're shoving your tongue down my throat."

"Hey. That wasn't my tongue. That was yours!"

"I was shoving my tongue down my throat?"

"No, you were shoving it down my throat!"

"You liked it, you pervert," Lucy shot at him and Natsu shut up. Well, she was right. "You were... with your hands and... with my ass... and... and...! You know what you were doing, you sick bastard."