Sting was barely allowed into the club. The only reason they let him in was because he told the bouncers he was your boyfriend, otherwise, they never would've let him in with his work uniform on. He had a black dress shirt and slacks with dress shoes. Not bad attire for a club, but his hair was disheveled and his winter coat wasn't on the fanciest of sides. He also smelled of barbeque and beer. A good combination on a hot summer day, but not in a club during a fashion show.
He waited for you at the bar since you were forced to do interviews and pictures with Brandish. You didn't like this spotlight at all. You thought being a designer meant working on your material day and night. You were realizing that in order to make it in the industry, you had to be a people person.
Brandish wasn't, but she was good at faking it.
Eileen's modeling friend, Dimaria, was more consumed by Erza than you. She still gave you her card and asked for you to call her. There was no way that was happening. Erza, being the socialite she was, saved you from most of the press and took your spot in the camera light.
"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whined to Sting and fell into the seat next to him. Ajeel immediately handed you another lemonade, since it's suddenly become your favorite drink of his. Other than the few shots he put in it, he also put a pump of raspberry syrup in it to make it remind you of a beach.
Sting took a sip of his coke. You could tell it was a coke from the fizz on top. "I guess we can't leave yet. They're cleaning the roads but all the trains are out."
"How are we gonna get home?"
He pulls out his phone. "Want me to call someone?"
You shook your head. "I can always ask Eileen," you suggest, hearing her wild laughter over the crowd. "Unless she's drunk."
Sting laughs. He was a lot more calm compared to you. He told you about Golem, the truck driver who gave him a ride. Then he told you about his trek to the club and honestly, you were lucky he got here at all. You were grateful.
You took his hand and kissed it. "I'm glad you're here."
"(Y/N)!" Eileen interrupts with her hand yanking on some poor boy's arm.
"Oh fuck."
Eileen shoves him and another boy forward. "This is Larcade and Wahl. They're Brandish's top picks for male models. Aren't they handsome?"
The boy names Wahl snaps back, "Shut the hell up Eileen, it was one time!"
"Shush, no one's talking to you," she pushes his shoulder.
Larcade. His wide eyes wouldn't leave your spot and his glued gaze was not something Sting was a fan of. The fact that he was here at all wanted you running for the hills.
"Hi, I'm Sting Eucliffe," Sting says with his arm reached out to Larcade. Killing him with kindness, you figured.
Everything was exploding around you. Why the hell would Eileen think that this was a great idea?
Larcade's attention shifts from you and back to reality. "Hello. Nice to meet you," he replies.
It wasn't nice at all. It was clear as day that neither of them could stand each other. Sting didn't need a name. From your reaction alone, he was well aware that Larcade was the one who kissed you. And Larcade didn't need an introduction, he knew Sting was this boyfriend of yours that had you pushing him away.
"They're going to be working with you on your next show," Eileen said, shocking the three of you. The last thing you're worried about is another show with Brandish. Now you had another show and Larcade to worry about for the next couple of months.
"You are?" you ask Larcade, not Wahl, who's become just as confused as Eileen about the air between the two blondes and you.
"Oh! Do you two know each other?"
Larcade nods. "We have friends in common. We saw each other at Zeref's house a few days ago."
Sting looks over to you, waiting for your response. You couldn't escape anything, could you? "Yeah, I was hanging out with Natsu and we ran into each other." You wanted to punch yourself for saying it like that. You didn't really want to reveal that you met earlier that though, especially not to Eileen.
"How fun!"
"I was there that night. How come I didn't see you?" Wahl asked you, worsening the situation. He's making it sound like you and Larcade were alone on purpose. What did you have to do to catch a break from all these crazy people?
You shrugged and stood up. "I don't know, guess we just missed each other. Nice to meet you." You ran for it, leaving Eileen, Larcade, and Wahl alone with Sting on your heels. He knew better than to stay alone with the guy who forced lip contact with you.
"(Y/N)," Sting calls out, grabbing your arm and stopping you at the front doors of the club. You didn't want to do this here. "Was that him?" Your eyes didn't hold back, but your choked up voice couldn't release a thing. "It was, wasn't it?"
You hid behind your sleeve and nod, turning away to catch your breath.
Sting's face morphed into one with fury written right across it. It didn't take long for his fists to curl and him to start marching towards Larcade, still at the bar.
"Sting stop!" You hug him from behind to keep him from going to start a fight. "Please, don't do this here."
His heart was racing. His breathing was erratic and you knew that he could just push you and go beating on Larcade anytime he wanted, but he stopped for your sake.
"Get your stuff, (Y/N)," Sting said. "We're leaving."
You unlatched yourself and went to the backstage as fast as you could. Your overnight bag was there, next to your bucket of shame. You snatched your stuff as fast as you could and run out to Sting, who was talking to Erza at the front door.
You frowned at the two and Erza explained, "I don't have a license, but I drive my mother home from parties all the time. I can take you two back home and get back before she notices anything."
"Doesn't your mom take limos everywhere?" you ask her, not comprehending everything around you.
"There's too much snow so we drove down in our own car. I guess you never got a chance to see it." You figured they took a limo to Brandish's apartment yesterday, but now that you were thinking about it, you didn't notice a stretched out limousine anywhere yesterday.
"Thanks for the ride, Erza," Sting says as he leads the two of you out the club and to the parking down the street. Normally the valet would bring the car, but Erza had the keys. Probably because of how early the two of you got here this morning.
Erza responds, "No problem. After all the hard work (Y/N) did, it's the least I could do."
You appreciated the compliment. You wished it was said at a different time, considering the climate. "Thanks, Erza."
~~~
Lector ran to you two when you got home. Really, he ran to Sting, who scooped up Lector and gave him a pet and a kiss before setting him back down. Lector then trotted over to rub his head against your leg. Sting kicked off his shoes to go rummaging in a drawer you both declared was his as he stays over.
You take off your shoes, dropping your bag at the door and following Sting to the living room. "Sting?" you spoke softly.
Sting shoves the drawer closed and pulls out a small black box. He turns to grab your hand and yanks you over to him. "Look, (Y/N), I know we're really young. We're not even finished with school yet and as frustrating as that is, I know it means we just have more time with each other."
You weren't sure where he was going with this. Then he got down on one knee and suddenly everything made sense.
"Sting?"
"Now, this isn't a proposal, yet. I want to do that at the right time, but consider this a place holder until I make real money and get you a real engagement ring."
He opened the box and two rings, silver ones, sat side-by-side.
Sting slid one on your hand and before he could grab the other, you took the other one and slid that one on his. Because it wasn't the real thing yet, and because he didn't want to freak your dad out, he put the ring on your right hand.
It was the best place holder in the world.
You got on your knees and kissed your overly jealous, amazingly thoughtful, and excruciatingly handsome boyfriend, Sting Eucliffe. You kissed that moron as hard as you could, no longer terrified of the idea of him running away if you didn't absorb all of his love in one kiss.
He was so beautiful, in every way the word could describe. You didn't deserve him, but he could argue that he didn't deserve you. In some twisted way, you were perfect together in that right.
When you parted, Sting went for your hand, smooching your finger now wearing his ring. His ring that meant that you were his forever and vice-versa. He was your partner for life. "Merry Christmas, (Y/N)."
You fixed his scarf, giggling at the mere sight of the ring on your hand. You loved the hell out of this boy. "Merry Christmas, Sting."