Yeah... I didn't forget about this AU, I promise. It's just one of those ones I like to come back to every now and then to work on. Anyway, this chapter has been in the works for a long ass time and I'm glad to get another one ticked off my list. Don't worry, I'll still get around to updating all my other stories in time. I just needed something short and sweet to work on in the meantime.

Alas, I hope you enjoy! If, you know, anyone even remembers this AU.

AN ACCIDENTAL INTRODUCTION

"Alright, don't forget I'll be home late. Got that parent-teacher thing tonight," Bickslow said quickly, leaning over Lucy at her desk to kiss her cheek. "Do you want me to grab something for dinner on my way back?"

"Mm-hmm, that'd be great," Lucy hummed.

Bickslow was about to leave before he paused and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, you'll do great today, okay?" he said softly. "I believe in you."

Lucy leant back in her chair just to smile up at Bickslow and let him kiss her again. "Thanks, you," she whispered. "Now get going before you're late."

"Alright, fine, I'm leaving. Love you, dork. Text me how it goes!"

"Mm-hmm, love you, too." And just like that, after hearing her apartment door close behind Bickslow on his way out, her apartment was in silence one more. Well, apart from Blair meowing at the door, but Lucy was used to that.

In a little over six hours, she was going to have her first meeting ever with a publishing agent, and Lucy didn't really know what to do with herself.

Since losing her job, she'd had more than enough time to work on her writing, which meant she'd spent plenty of time sitting at her desk or sprawled out on her living room floor writing out ideas and then tossing them into the trash. Erik had been helping her out with it, too, much to Bickslow's annoyance. Lucy would bounce ideas off of him, and Erik would be brutally honest and tell her just how garbage they were. Whenever she had a decent enough idea she could expand on, he'd even read it over and let her know what he thought. Most of what she wrote ended up in the trash, but Lucy hadn't really minded. Somehow, she'd known that none of those ideas would ever have made it into a best-selling story.

It had been three o'clock in the morning when she'd gotten her perfect idea. She'd been lying awake in bed, mindlessly patting Blair when it had come to her. She'd gotten out of bed so quickly that she'd woken Bickslow in the process, but that had been fine. After that, she'd spent the next three hours sitting at her desk and plotting everything out, just in time to scream to Bickslow when he woke up about how she'd finally found the perfect idea.

Of course though, she never actually told Bickslow what that idea was. To that day, Erik was the only person she'd shared the details with. He'd just about burst out laughing when she'd told him, and admittedly, it had scared the shit out of Lucy when it had happened. Erik didn't really laugh. Not like he had that day, at least.

Erik had told her to write what she wanted, so that was exactly what she'd done. Fortunately since then, she'd also managed to pick up an office job in the city, but every second she wasn't at work, she was writing.

She'd never really planned on sending it to anyone, much less getting any kind of response. But Erik and Bickslow had talked her into it, and the next thing she'd known, she'd been sending off query emails to every single agent she could find. Much to her surprise, one agency had actually responded and asked when she could come in. Lucy had honestly thought it was a prank at first, because what respectable agency would read her silly work, let alone like it enough to respond. For some bizarre reason though, they had, and now here Lucy was, freaking the fuck out about her meeting with the agent.

Lucy couldn't help but find it a little odd that they were asking her to come in so late in the day, though. She'd always thought that when she did actually start meeting with people to try and get published, it'd be mid-morning and she'd be walking in with coffee and a breakfast bagel and seem like she was some kind of professional who had her life together and it'd be a great start to the day. Instead, she'd be battling the afternoon traffic and be on her third cup of coffee of the day, and probably be late from said traffic and really just wanting a damn nap.

Bickslow and Erik had said it was a good thing they were trying to squeeze her in for a meeting, something about it meaning they really loved her work and that they just had to meet her in person as soon as possible. Lucy thought it was all a load of bullshit, but she knew better than to turn down an opportunity like that, even if she knew how unlikely it was to get her anywhere.

Lucy usually hated her habit of leaving painfully early, but that day, it was her saviour. She'd barely made it to the office in time for her meeting, only being able to grant herself the few seconds necessary to catch her breath after running up the three flights of stairs to get there, because of course the elevator had been out of order.

Once inside the office, Lucy was guided towards a small office by the grumpy receptionist and told to sit and wait. Lucy usually didn't like being told what to do, but considering where she was, she figured it was safer to obey. She didn't want to give a bad first impression there of all places.

She glanced at her watch every few moments and bounced her knee nervously. Her agent was running late. Lucy wasn't sure if it was a power move or if they had forgotten about her. Honestly, Lucy wouldn't have been surprised if it was the latter. If anything, it was probably just some kind of joke.

It was nearly forty-five minutes later that they showed up, with a stack of manuscripts under one arm and a coffee in the other. His long green hair he'd tied up in a bun was falling loose and Lucy couldn't help but feel like she'd seen that tired, disheveled face before. Probably online or something, she thought.

"You must be Lucy! I'm Freed Justine." he greeted her, juggling the papers and coffee to extend his hand before a look of mild panic crossed his face. "Oh, do forgive me. Is it alright if I call you Lucy?"

"O-Oh, uh, yes, of course. Lucy is fine," she replied.

"Excellent. Please, come in."

She followed him into the small office, closing the door behind herself and trying her best to refrain from asking if he actually preferred it open. Wringing her hands together as she sat herself opposite the large desk, Lucy became all to aware of how sweaty her hands were—and to think she'd just shaken the man's hand! Oh god, I hope he didn't notice. Oh dear god…

"I am so very sorry for making you wait," Freed said as he settled himself at his desk, taking just a few seconds to set everything in its proper place—the manuscripts on the pile to his right, his coffee on the coaster to his left, and straightening out the notepad he kept to his side for convenience, right next to the photograph of his husband. "I hope I didn't keep you for too long."

Lucy laughed nervously, rubbing her hands on her thighs to try and dry them. "Oh, no. Not at all."

"Well, let's not waste anymore time, shall we?"

Freed's questions were short and to the point, something Lucy appreciated even if his note taking was just a little worrying. It felt like the worst of job interviews and Lucy couldn't help but feel like all of her answers were wrong somehow. Still, the fact he didn't end the meeting with her the second he learned anything about about her career as a writer, Lucy had high hopes.

But then the questions stopped, and Lucy grew wary when Freed just stared down at his watch for longer than anyone should ever stare at a watch, unless they had trouble telling the time, at which point Lucy wasn't sure what the point of wearing a watch was.

But Lucy was nervous and she couldn't help but open her mouth and ask against her better judgement: "Is there something wrong?"

"No…" Freed sighed. "Well, yes, actually."

"Oh. I… I see." Lucy just knew it had been too good to be true. Bickslow and Erik could suck it. "Well, I, uh… I appreciate this opportunity, and—"

"Oh, god, no. It's not you," Freed said quickly as Lucy stood and grabbed her bag.

Lucy stared down at him with a look of confusion and he scratched his head, causing even more strands to fall loose of his bun. He always did his best not to mix professional with personal, but he'd been so been looking forward to meeting Lucy that day, but it was the one day that he just couldn't stay late at the office to finish her interview, and it had been such a long time since Freed had read something he'd enjoyed that thoroughly.

"I would honestly love to finish this interview and actually talk to you about your manuscript," he began to explain, quickly beginning to pack up all the things he needed to take home that evening. "However, I, uh… I have dinner plans and I promised my husband I wouldn't be home late today, and—"

"No, I… I totally understand," Lucy interrupted. Who was she to stop the man from being able to have a nice dinner with his husband? Lucy supposed she should just be grateful she was able to meet with him at all, even if it had been so short. "It's fine, I get it."

Freed still felt bad, and he was used to having to cut interviews short or having people leave feeling disappointed in the outcome. But Freed didn't mind taking risks when he was sure of the outcome. "Look, this is completely unorthodox, and, probably highly unprofessional as well, but it's going to take me at least thirty minutes to get home in this traffic, and I would be more than happy to continue this conversation in a cab if you would like," he suggested. "Of course, we can also reschedule and I can have my assistant fit you in as soon as possible."

Lucy did find it a little odd, but what if it was actually her one shot at becoming a published author?

Those little stories in the newspaper hadn't been getting her anywhere. They'd just been a way for her to make just enough money to get by while doing something she loved. And of course, she loved that she'd even been given the chance to do it at all, but Lucy had always known it wasn't a job she could keep forever. She remembered Victor then, the sweet old man who'd written the Monday story for nearly three decades; how he'd told her on her first day there how he'd always dreamed of becoming an author, but he'd missed his chance and all he'd had left was the paper and his handful of loyal fans.

And Lucy didn't want to miss her chance. She didn't want to end up like all the Victors in the world. She didn't want to end up stuck ten, fifteen, twenty years down the track, looking back on that moment and regretting such a stupid, tiny decision.

"Uh, I mean, sure, I guess!" Lucy agreed. She tried to sound confident and sure of herself but she knew she still sounded like some nervous wreck.

Really though, Lucy supposed she'd done weirder and worse things in a taxi.

On the way downstairs, Freed tried his best to assure her that not all meetings were such disasters. He really didn't want to terrify Lucy into never working with an agent again. But it was when they were outside again and he wasn't trying to savour his breath because even walking down stairs was a bit of an effort, that Freed realised he'd failed to point out just where they'd be going. The last thing he wanted was for Lucy to spend half an hour or more going the opposite direction to where she really needed to be going. He'd much rather just have her reschedule if that was the case. He wasn't a monster.

"I feel as if I should've mentioned I live in South Magnolia, near Latham Park," he admitted, making it out onto the busy street and already hailing a passing cab—the only good thing about peak hour, really. "I hope that's not too far out of your way."

"I actually live right next to Latham Park," Lucy said. Although at that point, Lucy would've sat in traffic for two hours if she thought it would help her get her own agent. It wasn't like she had anything else to be doing that night.

"Oh! What a coincidence!"

Freed let Lucy climb into the taxi first before sliding in after, giving the driver his address before reaching into his satchel for his notepad again and flicking through the pages until he found the notes he'd scribbled down while reading Lucy's manuscript. "Now, a few suggestions so far…" He cleared his throat, skimming the next few pages before looking back up to the passenger next to him and noticing the incredulous look on her face. "What? Is there a problem?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, no, it's just… You said 1073 Strawberry Street."

"Well, yes. That's my apartment building. Do you know someone there?"

Do I know someone there? At that point, Lucy was sure she knew half the building. "I live there," she answered.

It was one thing to live in the same district, but to live in the same apartment too? Freed knew he should've picked up on it when Lucy's letter and manuscript had first been assigned to his desk, but he'd always jumped straight into the writing and he'd just gotten so excited that he hadn't paid much attention to anything else.

Freed quickly shut his notebook. They could talk about her manuscript later. "Fifth floor. What about you?"

"Fifth floor!" Lucy said excitedly. But then something dawned on Lucy, because she knew everyone on the fifth floor—everyone except Laxus's husband. "Wait, are you—"

"You're 502!"

"—in 504?"

The driver cast a worried glance to his backseat in the mirror. Sometimes he really did just prefer it when the passengers decided it was a good place to make out or just have sex. It was a lot easier to understand than whatever was going on with those two.

"You made me that soup!" Lucy said. "God, I really loved that soup."

"And my husband broke down your door," Freed added. "Although I am glad you liked it!"

"How have we not met before, though?"

"I tend to work late. And Laxus doesn't like to socialise much."

"Huh. You don't say." She should've guessed Thor wasn't a socialiser—he was too awkward for that, obviously. "But, wait…" Lucy knew better than to let herself get too carried away and forget why she was really there. "Not to get ahead of myself, but is this… I mean, we're neighbours, and I called your husband Thor—"

"I heard about that," Freed chuckled. He'd been quite irritated by it, too.

Lucy shook her head. "I didn't know his name at the time," she defender herself "But, is that, you know, going to be a problem? I mean, if you think I'm good enough?" Because Lucy wouldn't be surprised if she'd just blown her probable one chance at getting an agent to like her. Of course the one that does like her enough to meet her is the guy who lives just down the hall from her. Surely she was just cursed.

Freed sighed. "In all honesty, I don't see why it would become a problem. Of course, I still have some concerns I'd like to discuss with you, and some suggestions as well. But… As long as personal and professional remain separate, I see no reason why our common neighbours would be a cause for concern," he explained. If anything though, if things worked out, Freed saw it as an excuse to work from home a little bit more. But Freed didn't care about talking about Lucy's work right then. They could do that later on a day he wasn't running nearly nearly an hour behind. "For now though, please tell me you know something about this mysterious banana bread everyone keeps getting when they move into the building."