Yeah, yeah. Standard apology from me. Really didn't mean to let this go over a year without an update, but, you know, life sucks sometimes. Anyway, this one is wrapping up too. Haven't quite fleshed out the remaining chapters, but at this point I'm going to say there's only one or two left. Of course, there's still a couple of side stories to follow as well (the first being the "other" Bickslow/Lucy and their beginning, and the other a kind of epilogue). Both will be quite long, but I'm not starting those until after I've finished this.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.

It was at nights that the nursery started taking shape. Between Bickslow's work hours, Lucy's inability to really move much, and the two of them running around after a one-year-old and a dog, nights were just the only time the nursery could take shape.

Lucy had enjoyed the process more than Bickslow had, mostly because Lucy's job consisted of sitting in the comfiest chair in the world (or so she said, every night), folding baby clothes, and getting the smaller things organised. And Bickslow's job… Well, Bickslow got stuck actually putting everything together. Turns out, putting cribs together isn't that easy, and whenever Bickslow looked up and saw the second one still waiting in the box, ready to be assembled, he just got that much closer to hiring a professional to do it.

The furniture battle was eventually won. Bickslow had walked away with a few splinters in his fingers after a gruelling week of assembly, as well as a bruised ego that he didn't want to talk about.

It was a Thursday when Bickslow got home late, though. Freya was asleep on the lounge, as usual, but the downstairs was quiet so Bickslow didn't bother looking anywhere in particular before dropping his keys and wallet and heading up the stairs to find Lucy. He knew where she'd be, because the new nursery was where she spent most of her time those nights, but Bickslow couldn't help but duck into Ingrid's room first just to check in on her. The long days were hard and Bickslow really did hate missing bedtime.

But when Bickslow went to go find Lucy in the twins' nursery, he found it empty for the first time in over a week. There was even no light on, as if she might've stepped into another room for something. For a moment, Bickslow couldn't think of where she would be. Until he turned, wondering if Lucy had maybe decided to do some work in the study downstairs instead, and instead saw the sliver of light peeking from under the door to his own bedroom.

In hindsight, Bickslow wasn't sure why he hadn't considered their bedroom sooner.

"Baby? You still up?" he called out first, gently pushing the door open. Knowing Lucy, Bickslow wouldn't have been surprised to just find her passed out in bed anyway. He'd seen it before—she'd gotten comfortable, just to remember she had to get back up to turn the light off, and decided that it just hadn't really been worth it.

But Lucy wasn't passed out. Bickslow's immediate thought was that a baby store had somehow exploded inside his bedroom, and right in the middle of the mess, was Lucy.

"I didn't hear you come home!" Lucy was so chipper than Bickslow was almost worried for her. She stepped over the strewn baby clothes and boxes on the floor just to reach Bickslow in the doorway, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "How was your day? Oh, I didn't cook tonight but there's still some pasta from last night if you haven't eaten yet."

"Uh… It was alright. Got most of what I needed to get done finished day, so I'll probably only need to head in for a few hours in the morning tomorrow…" Bickslow answered, cautiously making his way to the clean side of the room. He watched Lucy for a few moments, trying to figure out just what the fuck she was doing, but Bickslow couldn't figure out what any of the crap spread out on the bed and on the floor really meant. "What exactly are you doing, by the way?"

"Getting my hospital bag ready," she answered. She held up two sets of baby clothes in each hand, examining them each before tossing one behind her and folding the other up neatly and setting it on the bed.

"Your what now?"

"My hospital bag."

"Yeah, saying it again still doesn't help the fact that I have no fucking clue what you're talking about," Bickslow said. He felt like he was just missing something at that point.

Lucy sighed at him, rolling her eyes as she picked up more baby clothes from the pile next to her. "It's just… something to help make the whole birth thing easier, I suppose."

Admittedly, Bickslow still didn't know all that much about the process, aside from the fact that he was somewhat traumatised after watching the birth video that Lucy had told him to a couple of weeks earlier (which, had also led to him apologising profusely to Lucy for the next thirty minutes). But even with limited knowledge, Bickslow was fairly confident that a suitcase full of random crap that Lucy had bought over the last six months, wasn't really going to help anything or anyone. "Look, I might just be super tired," he began, kicking his shoes off by the end of the bed and already working on his tie. "But I still don't get it. Explain it to me like I'm five."

"You see, when it's time for Mummy to go to the hospital—"

"Hey, I said explain it like I'm five. Not talk to me like I'm five."

Lucy shrugged. "Aren't they the same thing?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. But you knew what I meant anyway," Bickslow responded.

She had. But she also hadn't been able to resist. It wasn't her fault he hadn't been specific enough. "Like I said, it's just supposed to make things a little easier. I mean, if I start going into labour, we won't have to freak out and rush to grab everything I could need at the hospital. You know, we'll just be able to pick up a bag or something and it'll already have everything I need," she explained.

"Labour? What do you mean, start going into labour? I thought you were being, uh… Fuck, what's the word… Induced? Induced! Yeah, that one. Don't you like, skip labour and all that shit? Wasn't that the point of your doc booking you in at the hospital or something already?"

Sometimes, Lucy really questioned her life choices. How she got along with Bickslow, let alone loved him, was something Lucy simply didn't understand. Surely there had to be something pathologically wrong with her to actually want to have a family with such a fucking idiot. "Honestly, do you listen to anything that goes on in my appointments?" she asked.

Bickslow shrugged. "Not really, no," he admitted. The deadpan look Lucy gave him had Bickslow realising it might not the greatest answer. But he used to listen. Except then he'd started realising that a lot of it just went straight over his head and he'd just stopped trying to understand half of it. All Bickslow cared to know was that his kids were okay, and that they weren't trying to kill their mother.

Lucy sighed at him again. "I'm still going into labour if I'm being induced, you moron. That's literally the whole point of it," she said irritably.

In hindsight, Bickslow realised he should've been able to figure that one out on his own. "Okay, yeah, I deserved that."

"Anyway, that's only if I don't go into labour before then. I mean, technically, I could start going into labour right now."

"…But you won't, right?"

Lucy shrugged. "It's possible." Although, Lucy really would much prefer it if she didn't. And judging by the mild look of panic on Bickslow's face before he headed for their ensuite, she knew he would prefer it if the twins decided they were happy where they were for the time being. "The bag is just to save time and be prepared, I suppose," Lucy continued, louder so Bickslow could hear over the running water as he brushed his teeth. "I just want to make sure I have everything I need when the babies come."

Bickslow supposed that was fair. Hell, if it saved Bickslow was rushing back and forth from the hospital and their home, all because Lucy had forgotten to pack something she really, desperately needed it, then Bickslow was all for it. "Yeah, that makes sense," he agreed, switching the light off in the bathroom on his way out. Except looking back at the bed he adored so much, almost completely covered in all manner of baby things, Bickslow had just one more concern. "Although, uh… Are you sure you're not going a little overboard there?" he asked, nodding to the small suitcase at the end that already looked a little too full.

"No. I'm not," Lucy insisted. She was quite adamant about that fact. She grabbed the notepad from her nightstand to toss it towards Bickslow on the other side. "I made a list earlier."

"You made a list?" His eyes widened and he took a deep breath as he quickly scanned the first page. "Oh boy…"

Bickslow really wasn't sure what to make of half of it. He could see why most of it was necessary, like the seven thousand or so different sets of baby clothes and the tiny hats and tiny socks to go with them. He could see the point of Lucy wanting to take a book with her as well, because she took a book everywhere and he'd stopped questioning it. And the dressing gown, and slippers, and the comfy clothes for herself—Bickslow could see why Lucy would want those with her. But it was the other things that Bickslow really didn't understand.

"Why are snacks on here? And why is it highlighted and circled so many freaking times, jeez," Bickslow snorted.

"Because I want to have food, obviously."

"Hospitals have cafes, you know," he pointed out. "And it's not like I can't just go and pick you up something when you want me to."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. "Like you would actually be willing to leave if I asked you to go and grab me a cheeseburger or something? You would be capable of doing that?"

Bickslow stared, blinked, and looked back down at the list. "Yeah, good point. Probably not." He had no hope in hell of leaving her side, especially after the twins were born. "Okay, but, what about the"—he squinted to read Lucy's scrawl—"almond oil? Are you planning on getting a massage or something? And why pillows?"

Lucy only smiled at him for a moment before she walked around the end of the bed, just slow enough for Bickslow to regret asking about the oil and the pillows eliciting fear in the man. "Bicks, honey." She sat down on the edge of the bed, placing her hand above his knee. Her innocent smile and sweet voice just terrified him all the more. "If I ask you for a massage when I'm in labour, you'll give me one, won't you?"

"Yep, definitely. Of course. Absolutely," he croaked, nodding quickly.

"Good boy. And as for the pillows, well… You just really, really want me to be comfortable. And you know what's comfortable?"

"…Pillows?"

"Pillows are comfortable," Lucy repeated. And really, Lucy thought she deserved to be comfortable, and if she decided she wanted an extra pillow or two from home to go with her to the hospital, then she would make sure she got those pillows. "I made a list for you on the next page, by the way," she added, patting Bickslow's leg as she got back up and returned to her packing.

Bickslow tried to ignore the fact that being low-key threatened by his extremely pregnant girlfriend was apparently something he was into. Instead, he flicked to the page in question, because obviously everything on the previous pages were of vital importance to Lucy during her hospital stay, and read the short list of items that Lucy had deemed were necessary for him.

And, well, honestly, Bickslow thought that was fair, too. He knew for damn sure he wouldn't have thought to bring a charger for his phone on his own, or even his own change of clothes.

"You know what?" He closed the notepad and tossed it aside, shaking his head and climbing across the bed. "I don't why I question anything you do to begin with."

"Neither do I, if I'm honest," Lucy agreed. It really was just a waste of time. She was right. She always was.

"But, you know what I think you should do?"

"What's that?"

"Leave all this. I can help with this tomorrow, so I know where things are when you need them." He scooped up as much as he could from the bed, setting it down on the chest at the end or on the floor with the rest of it. "And then come to bed," he said.

Lucy frowned and shook her head. "But… But if I get it done tonight then it'll be done and I won't have to worry about it until I need it or think of something else to add… And… And I was nearly done anyway, and... And, you know, for once, I'm just really not that tired, although I think that's because I kind of slept all afternoon after putting Ingrid down for her nap, so…" She trailed off when Bickslow wrapped his arms around her waist as far as he could reach, giving her that stupid smirk she couldn't tell if she loved or hated whenever she was missing the point. "What? What is that look for?"

"I said nothing about sleep, Lucy."

For the most part, Lucy loved the neighbourhood they'd moved to. Of course, she adored the house, but the neighbourhood still played a big part in why she enjoyed living there so much.

She loved all the trees making everything so nice and shady and how warm everything became in the fall, all yellow and orange and red. She loved all the parks where the kids could go and play and people could walk their dogs. She loved that there were good schools close by as well, because it meant she had one less thing to think about when her children were old enough.

Most of all, Lucy loved how quiet it was there. There was no constant traffic, no upstairs neighbours to worry about. Lucy loved her neighbours and how nice and quiet they all were.

She just hated her neighbour's teenage son. She had a feeling Bickslow did as well, if all the groaning and pressing his face into the pillow was anything to go by.

For the most part, Lucy hadn't even known the neighbours had a son. When they'd come by a few days earlier letting them know they'd be out of town for the week and it would be just their son there, Lucy had really only thought, 'well, what's the worst that can happen?' Just how much trouble could one teenager she'd never even seen actually cause?

The answer was a lot.

The first two nights hadn't been so bad. Lucy had even taken over a trays of lasagne and a new chicken casserole recipe she'd been trialing, just to try and help out a little and make sure the kid ate something other than pizza and cup noodles. But on the third night, when dozens of cars started arriving, spilling out of the driveway and down the street—even onto Lucy's lawn—Lucy knew it wasn't going to be a good night. And then the music had started.

Except even then, Lucy had tried to stay calm and give the teenager the benefit of the doubt. It was still a week day after all, so surely he would have to go to bed at some point, and all his annoying, loud, teenage friends would leave. Except, they hadn't. And soon it was three in the morning and Lucy really just wanted her damn sleep.

Suddenly, just as Lucy managed to turn over again, finally getting somewhat comfortable, the thumping bass from next door seemed to stop. All at once, peace fell. She nudged Bickslow, shaking his shoulder. "Bicks! Bicks, it's stopped!" she whispered harshly.

Bickslow groaned again and pushing the pillow away. "Huh?"

"The music stopped!"

It took Bickslow a few seconds to even register the lack of noise, wincing in the dark and struggling to keep his eyes open. But Lucy was right: the music had stopped. "About fucking time," he mumbled, dropping his head back to his soft pillow. He'd been just about ready to call the cops on the kid. That, or go over there and politely ask him to consider turning it down since he had a baby and he had to get up for work in the morning, like a normal adult. The fact Ingrid had so far slept through all of it was completely irrelevant, of course.

Lucy sighed as she leaned back. She was so tired that it took only seconds for her to feel herself already slipping into her slumber with that comfortable weightlessness and her lids being too heavy to open again.

But then, it started again, and Lucy resisted the urge to cry.

Lucy didn't even bother trying to sleep through it that time. She could hardly even hear herself think over the racket. Bickslow seemed to have the same idea as he switched on the lamp and pulled himself up, already reaching for his phone to no doubt put in a noise complaint.

In the meantime though, Lucy had to think of something to keep herself occupied. Reading was obviously out of the question, even if she did have a stack of books on her bedside she planned on finishing. But she needed absolute silence to read anything those days unless she wanted to read the same line over and over again, and Lucy really didn't like reading the same live seven times in a row.

It was with a glass of milk, though, that Lucy found a solution. Because what goes better with a glass of milk than a giant tray of the most indulgent brownies ever? And, cookies too, of course. But mostly the brownies. Peppermint brownies, to be exact.

By the time Bickslow joined her downstairs, Lucy was already pulling mixing bowls and baking trays out of the cupboards, cluttering up the benches quickly. Bickslow briefly wondered if she was just reorganising them again, because she'd definitely done that a lot since moving in. But then the fridge and pantry raid started, and everything she started pulling out looked a little too specific to be just a random midnight cleaning session.

"What are you doing now?" Bickslow asked through a loud sigh.

"Baking."

"Baking what? It's the middle of the night."

"Stuff," Lucy answered simply. She stared up at the flour cannister on the top shelf of the pantry, then back to Bickslow watching her through tired eyes that were still adjusting to the bright lights. "Can you grab that for me?"

"What?"

"The flour." She pointed to it, stepping out of the way as Bickslow slowly made his way over to her.

He reached it easily, holding the cannister but pausing before Lucy could take it from him. He'd still been trying to process the fact that it was nearly three in the morning and Lucy apparently thought it was a great time to be baking stuff—whatever that was. But he had the upper hand there, that much Bickslow could realise in his sleep-deprived yet somehow still half-asleep state.

Lucy pouted and huffed when she reached and he pulled the flour just out of her reach. "Give it," she demanded.

"Not until you tell me what you're making." It was a simple request. Information in return for the flour she so desperately wanted.

Lucy shrugged. "Brownies. And maybe some cookies, too."

Brownies? Bickslow did like brownies. He almost wanted to just let her have the flour if it meant he'd get to eat brownies all day. His eyebrows rose, tempting her with the flour briefly before pulling it back away. "But the oven isn't big enough for both," he pointed out. "And I know you. You won't just do one batch. And it's the middle of the night. You'll be up for hours waiting for everything to finish cooking."

"Yes, and?" She knew what time it was. Besides, if Bickslow's point was that she wouldn't be able to stay awake throughout the day to take care of their daughter, then he was obviously forgetting the fact that Ingrid still had her nap time just after midday. Lucy could sleep then.

"You can bake in the morning, like a normal person. Then, I don't know, we can just do something else that other normal people do when their jackass neighbour is being an annoying little twat and won't go the fuck to bed."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him that time, trying not to laugh as a look of misery briefly crossed Bickslow's face. At that point, she'd pay money to see him yell at the kid. Still, how was baking not a normal person thing? She crossed her arms, shifting the weight on her feet before leaning back against the counter. Trying to take the flour from him at that point would just be a waste of time.

"Like what, exactly?" she asked, because if she wasn't allowed to bake her peppermint brownies, what the hell else was she going to do?

Bickslow gave a slight shrug. "Like, we could have sex," he suggested.

Lucy rolled her eyes and scoffed. "God, no. I'd rather make my brownies," she mumbled. And, sure, she got the fact that Bickslow had a weird thing for her being the size of a planet or something (well, she didn't really understand it). But she stood by what she said. Brownies were far better than what Bickslow was suggesting.

Except Bickslow didn't understand that fact. Not completely. "Seriously? You're choosing dessert over getting laid?" he gasped.

"Yes."

Her answer came so resolutely that Bickslow almost couldn't fault her for it. She really did want those damn brownies. And, well, Bickslow could deal with that, not that he had much choice. But if he wasn't going to be getting laid, then he at least wanted the thing that was apparently better than him. "Fair enough." He brought the flour down, finally letting Lucy take it from him. "But I do want some of these better-than-sex brownies when you're done," he added, folding his arms as he leant his hip against the bench.

"Nuh-uh. You can make your own if you want some," Lucy insisted. Like she would share. Hell no. They were her brownies.

Bickslow blinked. "But… I… I don't know how to make them," he admitted.

"Then I'll teach you how to make them. Then you can make as many as you want."

Bickslow still hadn't mastered the art of cooking, and he doubted he ever would. But baking was different, wasn't it? What was the worst that could happen anyway? He ended up with slightly crispy brownies? That wasn't so bad. Besides, if it did go well, then an unlimited supply of brownies really wasn't a bad thing.

When the doorbell rang, Lucy couldn't help but be a little worried. They didn't get visitors at that house, not unless the odd neighbour stopping by counted. Lucy didn't mind it, not when she was having a hard enough time as it was keeping up with a toddler, and just moving about in general. She'd had to give up taking Freya for a walk every morning as it was. Lucy couldn't tell if she or the dog were more upset about that fact though, but it was probably the dog. Not that Lucy would admit it, but she looked forward to Bickslow taking his paternity leave at the end of the week just so she'd be able to escape the the dog with an attitude problem for at least half an hour each day. He could deal with the whining when she was impatient and wanted her morning walk.

But it was the middle of the day. Almost everyone Lucy knew was at work. And Lucy was certain she hadn't ordered lunch that day.

Lucy looked back to Ingrid in her high chair quickly, deciding that the small pieces of fruit on the tray that were apparently more fun to play with than to actually eat weren't going to cause too much trouble if she stepped away for less than two minutes.

She rushed to the door, or at least as fast as she could, rolling her eyes at the impatient knocking and resisting the urge to just ignore them just for being impatient. "Jeez, I'm coming, I'm coming…" she muttered. Lucy pulled open the door, half expecting to find someone asking if she'd like to join some church somewhere and being all too prepared with a lie and an excuse.

But instead she found her old team, huddled together on the small porch trying to stay out the rain, and whispering that maybe she was just asleep and should come back later. At least until they noticed Lucy had opened the door. And then they all grinned at her and Lucy let them in without so much of a word while she tried to figure out just why the fuck they were even there.

For the first time though, they were just as silent, sheepish and looking down at their feet and around nervously, and Lucy almost wondered who they'd killed for them to all give her such peace. Probably Bickslow.

Lucy eventually decided to just break the awkward silence, helping Ingrid with a spoonful of yogurt first. "So… Shouldn't you all be at like, work, or something?" she asked. Because, well, last Lucy checked, they all had jobs to do. She doubted coming out to the suburbs in the middle of the day was part of that.

"Probably," Gray shrugged.

"But Bickslow said you had requested to see us," Erza said, with Natsu and Gray nodding quickly on either side. "So we came right away."

Had I? Lucy couldn't remember it, but she couldn't remember a lot of things those days. She was lucky if she remembered to actually turn the dishwasher on after loading it up. Still, Lucy thought it sounded like something she would do. She only had a little over a week left before she was due to be induced, assuming she hadn't even gone into labour before then, and all Lucy had been doing lately was making sure she had everything in the order. And after Ingrid's party, Lucy had realised that maybe, just maybe, she owed her friends a bit of an apology before they started to hate her for just about disappearing off the face of the planet and into the void known as the suburbs.

"I mean… I didn't mean right away," Lucy mumbled. "I meant more like for dinner or something."

"Well, we're here now!" Natsu pointed out. "So what's up, Luce?

"Uh, well… I just… I wanted to apologise for how things have been the last few months," she said. Not having had time to prepare what it was she wanted to say had Lucy feeling just a little exposed. She didn't like apologies, but she got through them when she at least had a few minutes to go over them in her heard or even in a mirror. But of all the days and of all the times for her team to show up unannounced, it had to be then.

In hindsight, Lucy supposed she should've expected something like that, after she'd asked Bickslow to invite them over when they all had some time free. Lucy couldn't remember a time when any of them had shown up anywhere when expected. Even then, they were hardly on time.

Ingrid babbled as she continued stuffing her face with the berries and making a mess, something that momentarily distracted them, causing Gray to scoff and Lucy to sigh as she inwardly wondered if she'd remembered to start that load of Ingrid's clothes in the washer earlier that morning.

"Nah, don't worry about it, Luce," Natsu said, pulling the chair at the table out next to her and waving dismissively. Gray had already sat down opposite them and left his jacket somewhere, and Erza hovered just behind him, cooing at Ingrid and making her forget about the mess of food on the tray for a minute. "You're good. You have nothing to apologise for."

Lucy smiled, if only out of relief for her team not hating her. But it wasn't enough. She needed to apologise, even if they didn't see it yet.

"No, no… I do…" she insisted, although part of her wasn't even sure they'd listen. Apparently a baby covering her face in food and dribbling nonsensical sounds was just incredibly enthralling. But maybe Lucy was biased because she saw that every day. Even Natsu was in on it, spouting the same random noises back to her and no doubt having some kind of actual conversation. "I've been treating you guys horribly for ages and I shouldn't have. I should have tried harder to stay in touch after moving out here, and… And at Ingrid's birthday, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that either."

"Well, you yelled at Erza," Gray said.

"And it was completely justified," Erza chimed in.

Natsu shrugged, grinning at Lucy as he snatched one of the leftover berries. "Told you it was fine."

Lucy just couldn't help the way her eyes began to sting and her bottom limp trembled, bursting into tears only a moment later. She'd been so worried about them hating her, and they'd all just brushed it off like nothing. She couldn't tell if she felt more relieved or just stupid.

"Nice one, hothead. Now look what you've done," Gray complained.

"I didn't do anything!"

"No, no, it's okay," Lucy sniffled, trying not to laugh and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I just… I was so worried you'd all hate me for brushing you all off all the time, and I just really missed you guys and… And it's just really good to see you all again and it feels normal again and it's just so, so lonely here all the time and I love you guys, I really do."

"Lonely? Is Bickslow not treating you well?" Erza asked a little too harshly.

Lucy had a moment of panic. Because of course that was the only thing Erza could comment on. "No! I mean, yes. Or maybe no," she quickly assured her friend. Really, she wasn't sure what the correct answer was. Words were confusing. "Bicks is great. He just, you know, works a lot sometimes, and the only people I really talk to all day are a baby and a dog who don't understand me anyway. So it's just… It's nice to have adults around."

Erza huffed, lifting her head in a way that made Lucy think she didn't quite believe she was telling the truth. "Well, as long as he continues to treat you well," she maintained. "I did come across a rather nice collection of swords not too long ago. Jellal tried to confiscate them and lock them away, but he didn't hide the key very well."

"…What Erza meant to say," Gray chimed in, a wary glance to his red-headed friend beside him, "is that we'll probably kill your boyfriend if he decides to be like, you know, a dick."

"Um, yep… Got that," Lucy mumbled. She wiped her face again, apparently her team threatening to murder Bickslow was enough to get her to stop crying. "But, uh… You really don't need to worry about Bicks. Promise."

"Mm-hmm. If you say so," Erza hummed.

"Well, I, for one, am just happy to have you around again, Lucy," Natsu exlaimed. "We all really missed you. I'm sure Happy did, too."

Lucy fanned her face as she looked up, trying to hold back the next wave of tears. She was getting sick of the crying at everything those days. She thought she'd left that behind months ago. "Oh, damn it… You're going to make me cry again."

"Come 'ere."

Natsu was the first to envelop her in a tight hug, with Gray and Erza quickly following, all squeezing her tight enough to squash her. But Lucy didn't mind it in the slightest.

"Gonna have to try a bit harder if you want to get rid of us, Luce," Natsu said.

"We're still your team. That means you're stuck with us," Gray added.

Erza nodded in agreement on Lucy's shoulder. "Mm-hmm. So Bickslow is just going to have to learn to share."

Bickslow left the office for the last time that week exhausted and just really wanting a drink, a shower, and the longest nap he could manage. He'd planned on leaving early for a change, but then Laxus and Evergreen and Freed had walked in with booze and his favourite burgers from down the street, told his assistant to go the hell home, and Bickslow just hadn't really been able to say no, especially not after Evergreen had pulled onion rings out as well.

So Bickslow had stayed after work again, only for a few hours, just to celebrate with his team and his impending fatherhood and apparent end of his life, yet again. But Bickslow hadn't minded it, getting to just spend time with his team like they'd always used to. Everything had changed and sometimes Bickslow missed how things had been. All he seemed to do those days was work, and if he was lucky, spend an hour or so each night with his kid.

And of course he loved everything there. He loved what his life had become—the work, the kids, the dog, Lucy. But sometimes, he just missed how simple it had all been. When the only things he'd had to worry about was where Freed would lead them on their next job. Or if he should grab lunch at the guild and annoy Gajeel or someone, or instead just grab something from 8-Island and stay at home all day.

Now, Bickslow wasn't sure a single minute could pass without him worrying about something completely different. Like if Ingrid was still developing as she should and if she was saying enough words or if there were still any sharp corners left for her to hit her head on when she started walking. Or if the bills were all paid and he hadn't forgotten to open that one bill he could remember seeing in his emails. Or even if Lucy was going to go in labour that day, and if that was all going to go smoothly and that the twins would be fine and Lucy would be fine and that they had everything they needed at home for them.

Bickslow just missed the simple things sometimes. And for a couple hours, sitting in his office with his team, drinking and laughing and insulting the ever living shit out of each other as they usually had, Bickslow had felt like he was home. And he'd liked that.

With her last week passing by completely uneventfully, Lucy's mood quickly grew sour. At first, Bickslow had tried telling her that it was probably for the best; the longer she went, the better the babies would be, or something along those lines. But that had quickly grown old and after that Bickslow had mostly kept his distance, instead usually taking Ingrid for the day and making sure the dog didn't destroy any more of her cushions.

Strangely though, Lucy hadn't minded any of it. Bickslow staying out of her way had been a godsend, and admittedly, keeping him locked outside while she'd been vacuuming and mopping had been just a little satisfying.

But it was her last night at home with just the three of them (or, four, if she counted the dog), and with the house all clean and the freezer as full as it could be, all Lucy wanted was for Bickslow to do what he was good at: making her smile. That, or wanting to put him through a wall for being the most idiotic person she knew aside from Natsu.

Bickslow glanced up from his phone when Lucy came in, idly rubbing Freya's ears from where she was snoozing at his side. "Are you finally done cleaning now? Are have you come to kick me out of here, too?" he remarked.

Lucy sighed at him, shaking her head as she climbed up onto the bed. "No. I'm not kicking you out," she mumbled. Lucy didn't really understand why he was so pissy about it anyway. It wasn't like it had been for that long—maybe an hour at most. Besides, he'd had the dog to keep him company. If she'd trusted him to stay off her wet floors while they'd been drying, then maybe she wouldn't have had to lock the guy on the patio for an hour. "And, I'm almost done. Just need to do another quick dust and vacuum upstairs again before we go tomorrow."

"Again? Lucy, you've vacuumed and dusted nearly every day this week." Bickslow hadn't quite expected to wake up to a vacuum cleaner every single morning for the last week—nor had he expected to get kicked out of bed so Lucy could vacuum the mattress—but that was what his life had been like. "You cleaned the damn stove with a toothbrush yesterday."

"Yes, so what?" Lucy shrugged. "The stove is now clean."

"You're nesting."

"I am not nesting, thank you very much." Bickslow raised an eyebrow at her. Even the dog lifted its head and stared at her. But Lucy had merely been cleaning the house to perfection and making sure everything was in its right place for when they brought the twins home. As for the cooking spree she'd spent nearly two days on, and the setting up of the nursery again to make sure everything for their first week was already set out and within reach… Well, Lucy just liked to think she was being prepared. Maybe, if she was honest, just a little too prepared. "I'm just—"

"Nesting," Bickslow insisted, interrupting her.

Lucy huffed, pulling the cover up to her waist and crossing her arms. "Okay, fine. I'm nesting," she admitted, Bickslow laughing at her and finding how exasperated she was about it even more amusing. "But I can't help it!"

"Oh, I know you can't."

"It's not my fault nothing was where it needed to be."

Everything was exactly where it needed to be, but Bickslow wasn't going to say that out loud. He pulled her into his side, an arm around her shoulder, and kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, Cosplayer. You're good. And you're the greatest mother anyone could ask for," he said softly.

Lucy bit her bottom lip, leaning on Bickslow's shoulder even when he brought his arm back to his side. She'd wanted him to make her smile and distract her, not remind her of all those horrible little thoughts at the back of her head she tried to ignore.

"What if I'm not, though?" she asked quietly.

"Not what?"

"A good mother."

"Please," Bickslow scoffed, still staring at his phone. But there was no sharp jab to his side after, like he'd half expected from her, and when he did finally look back from his phone, he realised it wasn't just some tired reassurance she was after. She was scared—genuinely scared of that fact. And Bickslow had no idea how long Lucy had even felt that way. He couldn't even understand how she could be. She spent far more time with Ingrid than he did, and their daughter was thriving and as happy as she could be. "Lucy, you already are," he whispered. "Just look at Ingrid."

"That was different, though. She was already nearly six months old then," Lucy pointed out.

"So what?"

"So we weren't here for the part that mattered. We didn't have to worry about any of the, like, you know, hard stuff."

Bickslow rolled his eyes. It had to be the dumbest argument he'd ever heard. And he hadn't wanted to point that out, but really, Bickslow felt like he had to. He could deal with Lucy being pissed at him for a while. "Cosplayer. I love you and you know I try super hard not to call you out on your shit sometimes," he began, already growing just a little wary of the slight narrow of her eyes. "But you're being really damn stupid right now."

"Excuse me?" And there she'd been, thinking they could have a nice, pleasant conversation. Instead he was calling her an idiot. If she'd been willing to move, she'd already be getting out of bed to go and sleep downstairs instead.

"Look." He slid down the bed slightly, just to be level with her, leaning up on the pillows and ignoring the groan from the dog from apparently being disturbed. "Nothing about raising a kid is easy. There's no easy parts, because the entire fucking thing is hard and you know that as well as I do," Bickslow said. The fact he was having to point that out to Lucy of all people was something Bickslow just couldn't wrap his head around. "Look at how things were at the start anyway. You already knew how to take care of Ingrid the second we got here, while I hadn't even held a baby before."

Lucy shrugged into the pillow. "Most of it was just guessing and from watching others…" she mumbled. Even then, every second Lucy had been terrified of doing something wrong. What if she held her the wrong way? Or gave her the wrong food and she choked? Lucy was still terrified of the same things then, though.

"Yeah, but you still did it. And you figured out the rest of it as you went. You think the first people to have a kid were instantly the greatest parents? I mean, fuck, she probably thought she was dying or some shit or that the kid was some demonic creature."

"They wouldn't have been wrong."

"My point is," he continued, squeezing her shoulder gently, "you have nothing to worry about. You'll be great, Lucy. You already are. Our kids are damn lucky to have you as their mother."

"You mean that?" Lucy sniffed.

"You think I'd be dumb enough to call you stupid for no damn reason?"

"Well, yes."

"I'm not that stupid, thank you," Bickslow muttered. He did value his life. Still, it had been a calculated risk, and Bickslow didn't regret it. "But I meant every word."

Lucy let out a deep sigh, shuffling a pillow behind her back to try and get more comfortable. "I was debating telling you to go sleep on the couch after calling me stupid, but I guess you can stay now." He had kind of redeemed himself, and Lucy supposed she couldn't complain too much. She had gotten what she'd been after.

Bickslow snorted. "Wow, thanks."

She watched as Bickslow went back to his phone, idly swiping every few seconds and chuckling or smiling every so often. She couldn't see the screen from where she was. At first Lucy thought he might've been texting Gajeel or someone, but she already knew Gajeel never actually responded to anyone and it didn't look like he was typing anyway. And then she thought it might be some new app that he'd gotten addicted to, but those usually had annoying sounds that drove Lucy up the wall, and she didn't have the urge to throw Bickslow phone out a window so she knew it couldn't be that either.

"What are you looking at anyway?" she asked.

"You."

"I meant on your phone."

"Yeah, you," Bickslow said again. He quickly showed Lucy the screen, just long enough for her to look at the photo he had open. "I ran out of room so I started deleting things I didn't need."

Lucy had seen all the crap he had on his phone. She knew for a fact his camera roll was full of Ingrid and the dog, and he couldn't imagine him being able to delete any of those. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Look, I've deleted like seven photos and two videos so far, okay."

"And were those pictures of yourself or food?"

"…Yes."

"You know you can just… back everything up onto your computer, right? So then you don't have to worry about losing things," she reminded him.

"Well, obviously. I've already done that."

"So why don't you just delete everything then? So then you can fill it all up with even more pictures of the dog."

Bickslow let out an exasperated sigh. Of course Lucy didn't understand it. She barely knew where her phone was most days. "Because then I won't be able to just look at any of them whenever I want. Y'know, what if I just really want to watch one specific video at some point. If it's on my phone, I can just be like, 'oh, you know what I haven't seen in a while? That time my daughter started crawling! And oh, look, it's on my phone! How convenient!'"

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. She was just a little concerned just how seriously Bickslow was taking it, but she knew better than to question it sometimes. "Ooo-kay then…" Jeez, forget I asked. "I hope you're at least deleting all the ones of me."

"Oh. Yeah, no. They're all staying," Bickslow said quickly. He'd deleted a few of them, mostly the older ones, but the majority Bickslow couldn't bring himself to part with. "Here, like this one."

"God, I probably look horrible," Lucy groaned, rolling her eyes as Bickslow flicked through his gallery before turning his phone towards her again. But she recognised the photo instantly, standing in front of the open windows at the old apartment. For some reason they'd decided it would be a good idea to document the pregnancy—a photo each month to see how much she'd grown. Bickslow had probably talked her into it, not that Lucy could remember much about it. But that one had been from the beginning, only just having decided they'd even go through with it all, and all Lucy could think about as she looked at it was just how fucking tiny she'd been. "I can't believe I was ever that small," she mumbled.

"Right?" Bickslow scoffed. He glanced down as he turned his phone back towards himself, noticing the pointed glare aimed at his direction instead. "Not the… Not the looking horrible part," he tried to correct himself. "'Cause, I mean, you look great all the time. Just the, uh…" Bickslow shook his head, quickly realising that no words would get himself out of that one. "You know what? Forget I said anything."

"Uh-huh…"

"But you know we have to take another one in the morning before we leave, though."

Lucy groaned again. "God, no. Why?" she complained. "Didn't we take one last month?"

"Well, yeah. But that was last month," Bickslow said. He set his phone down on the bedside table, plugging it in to charge before he forgot. "Come on. It's the last one."

Lucy did have to admit that the idea of completing the weird little series was just a little satisfying. And maybe, just maybe, it would be kind of nice to look back at all of them one day when she was being idiotic and remembering the twins' pregnancy fondly for some stupid reason.

Besides though, Lucy knew Bickslow wouldn't leave her alone unless she let him take the damn picture anyway.

"Fine. In the morning," she agreed. "You'll have to remind me though."

"You know I will."

Lucy closed her eyes as Bickslow got comfortable beside her, switching off the lamp after a kiss to her cheek goodnight.. Even with her mountain of pillows, Lucy couldn't quite get comfortable enough to sleep. And she'd hoped she would that night, knowing it would probably be her last for a while, but Seth—or maybe it was Stella on that side—was apparently far too restless and Lucy could only rub mindless, small circles on the side of her belly and wait for whatever spawn it was to get tired enough to stop moving.

She never had been able to sleep through them moving around too much.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Bickslow asked quietly.

Lucy sighed deeply. "Honestly, no." She'd been dreading that day yet waiting for it for so long. She'd still hoped to have gone into labour on her own already, but part of her was glad for the extra time just to make sure that everything else was in order. Except even then, Lucy still felt like there was a million things left to do. "But I want them to be here finally and to actually have my body back again, so yes."

"You'll do great. I can't wait to finally meet them, though. Tomorrow's going to be a good day."

"Tomorrow's going to be a good day," Lucy repeated.