Hi, hello! It's been a hot minute since I've gotten anything updated, but life has sucked and and university this semester took up a lot more of my soul than I expected. I ended up having to drop two (of my four) units to focus on the two I could actually pass without having a mental breakdown.

I did try and work on stories here and there between assignments etc., but between getting a pretty disappointing overall grade (so far, at least) in my writing unit, I obviously didn't get much done. To be fair though, those marks were in poetry and a short story that I wrote like the day it was due, so I'm not too bothered by it. (Also, apparently I can't write a proper sentence? The more you know!)

Anyway, I apologise for the long delay. School is done for the year now, and I plan on getting back into writing as soon as possible. Also, excuse this chapter, honestly. It's been written over the course of like, 9+ months and while I tried to like, correct continuity errors, I know there's a few that slipped and it's just... not the best. I think I forgot how to write in general tbh.

Reviews and feedback is always appreciated though, especially coming back into things! I gotta know if I'm just being a negative fuck or if I really did get worse over the year!

p.s. yes, other stories will also be getting updated ASAP. None have been abandoned or forgotten, I promise.

Bickslow did, thankfully, get to spend most of the day inside, in silence, and in the dark. Whether that had been because Lucy was still pissed at him or it was because she pitied him and his chronic migraines, Bickslow wasn't sure. Either way, he was thankful for it, because there was no amount of pain relief or coffee that would've made that day bearable otherwise.

Lucy hadn't strayed far most of the day either, aside from taking Scarlett down for a dip in the pool around noon to cool off, or going downstairs to get something to eat or drink. Lucy had very much been hiding from his mother, and honestly, Bickslow hadn't blamed her. He'd kind of been hiding too.

Come the evening, after becoming all too aware of how impatient Lucy was becoming, Bickslow finally dragged himself out of bed. He had promised Lucy they'd go once it was cooler and once he was feeling halfway human again, and he wasn't feeling too horrible right then so he figured it was as good as it was going to get.

"Anything in particular you'd like to do tonight?" Bickslow asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. Apparently moving proved to be a horrible idea if the renewed, stabbing pain in the side of his head was anything to go by, but Bickslow was going to try and ignore that.

Admittedly, Lucy had wondered if they'd go anywhere at all. She'd been looking forward to it, sure, but not so much that she would force Bickslow to sit and suffer in pain just to keep her happy. Or at least, not too much.

"To be honest, I assumed you wouldn't want to go anywhere," she said.

"Well, I said we would, so unless you don't want to, I plan on keeping my word."

Lucy couldn't really help but feel like she was forcing Bickslow into taking her somewhere. "Yeah, but if you're not feeling well—"

"I'm fine," Bickslow snapped, wincing immediately after. Even speaking was painful. But Bickslow still refused to go back on his word. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—" He shook his head slightly, sighing softly. "It's just a headache. I'll be fine."

Headache, my ass. Lucy knew better than that. She didn't want to argue, though, so if Bickslow said he was fine, then she'd have to take his word for it. "Alright," Lucy sighed. Now Lucy's problem was that she didn't really know what she wanted to do. She hadn't seen a point in really thinking about it too much since she hadn't wanted to end up disappointed again. Still, now she did have to think about it, but all she could focus on was Scarlett cooing happily at the babies twirling above her. "Well, do we take Scout?"

Bickslow shrugged. "Up to you. Kinda figured we'd leave her here though. Take a night off." If he was honest, Bickslow didn't think he'd be able to handle going anywhere with Scarlett that night. If he didn't feel like crap then it wouldn't have been issue. Still, Bickslow didn't think his parents would turn down a night of babysitting duty, especially not his mother.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I, uh… I don't really know what there is to do here, and… Well, I can't think of anything either, so I guess I'll just let you decide what we do. I mean, it is your town. You know what there is."

"You do know that doesn't help, right?" Bickslow grumbled. Lucy shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. He supposed he shouldn't have expected anything else. He sighed again, rubbing his face as he finally pulled himself up from the edge of the bed. "Fine. Just let me have a shower, and then we can get going, alright?"

"Okay. I'll, uh… I'll get ready then." She didn't even make it back to her semi-packed bag before she turned back around to catch Bickslow before he got into the bathroom. "Wait, what am I supposed to wear?" It wasn't like she'd brought any fancy clothes so she sure hoped Bickslow had no intentions of taking her any place nice.

"Whatever you like, Cosplayer."

Finally being able to see the town up close and having the opportunity to stop and admire little details here and there, Lucy found that Astrantia really wasn't so bad after all. The weather was less than pleasant, even with the evening sea breeze that only slightly cooled things down, but the town was rich with life and history and Lucy's only disappointment was that the maritime museum there was already closed for the day.

Despite the heat, the streets were all still busy. Bickslow had said that it was usually like that. There could be a heatwave and there'd still be people out and going about their day. Lucy had half a mind to think the people who lived there weren't even human.

It took Bickslow a few moments to realise Lucy had stopped following him. He'd mostly been on auto pilot, following the familiar streets and pointing out particular places along the way, from the old flower stand on the corner of the plaza that his mother had always visited on Saturday morning, to the cafe his father had briefly owned upon moving there, until just after Bickslow had been born.

He turned around to find Lucy staring into the window of a boutique store. Whimsical patterns etched onto the glass framed the window, surrounding the tiny mannequins in the centre of the display.

"Isn't this adorable?" Lucy said, pointing to one of the dresses on the mannequins. "We should get it for Scout."

As far as baby clothes went, Bickslow had to admit it wasn't horrible, and his daughter in the gold frilly and sparkly dress would be kind of cute. Now that he thought about it, Bickslow knew he'd have to get something like that for her in the next few days anyway since his family's New Year's Eve party was coming up, and Bickslow had a feeling his mother wouldn't approve of putting his daughter in a onesie that said go away, sleeping. He was still disappointed it didn't come in adult sizes.

"I guess it's not bad," he murmured. "They're closed though, so I'll have to come back tomorrow or something for it." It wasn't like he had any other plans, not unless sleep or trying to get Lucy to stay for longer counted.

Besides, Bickslow wanted to put off buying clothes for Scarlett for as long as possible. She'd already outgrown all the stuff he'd bought when he first got her, and between his luck and the fact his kid grew like a weed, Bickslow knew that if he went and bought that dress for her tomorrow, she'd somehow outgrow it by the new year.

Lucy hummed a pleased sigh before leaving the window behind. She let Bickslow lead her past another few stores and quaint restaurants before she looped her arm around his and looked up with a sheepish grin. "Bix, I'm getting hungry," she said.

Bickslow rolled his eyes. "Of course you are," he sighed. Honestly, Bickslow thought Lucy was similar to a child in that way. She was always hungry, and she seemed to always want him to feed her—although Bickslow couldn't complain since it was just slightly satisfying to know someone else loved his cooking, especially when it was something he enjoyed doing. "Have you at least decided what you want?"

"Anything is fine. You can decide."

"That's not helpful, you know," Bickslow mumbled.

"I know," Lucy apologised half-heartedly, giggling quietly. Bickslow should've already learnt she wasn't fussy when it came to food. Even then, she didn't know what was good in town and what was bad. She didn't even know if Astrantia had any unique dishes she just had to try before leaving. Bickslow was the one who knew where all the best places were.

But, Lucy wasn't oblivious, and she still knew Bickslow had only gone along with it all to try and keep her happy. She knew better than to let him think that meant putting up with a crowded and noisy restaurant or some place fancy as well. And if she was honest, Lucy wasn't really interested in anything like that either.

"Some place quiet, maybe," she suggested after a moment. "And simple."

Bickslow tried to hide his relief. He wasn't sure he would've coped with anything else. He would've been the worst company ever if Lucy had decided she wanted some fine dining, and Bickslow was already horrible company when he was having good days so he didn't really want to be worse than that. It was a miracle Lucy put up with him as it was.

But if Lucy wanted simple, then Bickslow knew just what to get.

"Alright, come on. I know a place."

He took her to a small row of stores on the other side of town, closer to the harbour and overlooking the pier. Old factories lined the streets, some given new life in the way of offices and apartments, while others lay abandoned and still. The buildings were a little more rundown in that part of town, with faded paint and crumbling bricks, but there was still a charm to it all that Lucy enjoyed. It reminded her of home, or at least of Hargeon, and just that little bit of resemblance made her just a little less homesick.

There was a small fish and chips store closest to the foreshore. Lucy hadn't even needed to say anything for Bickslow to laugh and tell her it wasn't half as bad as it looked. Between the flickering sign above the door, the cramped passages between the shelves filled with junk food, and the nearly overpowering smell of overused and old cooking oil, Lucy's immediate impression of the deli wasn't the greatest. But she trusted Bickslow's judgement (mostly), so she followed him in anyway, listening to the tale of how he would take Alexander down there for lunch nearly every week whenever he had wanted to escape his parents as they waited for their order.

By the time they got their food and found a soft patch of grass before the water to sit on, Lucy realised she couldn't have asked for much else. She hadn't needed anything special or fancy, and she hadn't needed Bickslow to go out of his way to try and impress her or make anything up to her. She'd just wanted to explore and see something other than the same walls of Bickslow's house, and actually spend time with him since that had proven to be just slightly difficult up until then.

There was just one problem. Bickslow was being disturbingly quiet and Lucy didn't know whether to be annoyed or worried. "Bix? Everything okay?" she asked softly. "You're being a little quiet over there." He wasn't eating much either, which was just a little strange since Lucy really only know him as a bottomless pit who devoured everything.

"Oh. Yeah, uh, sorry," he mumbled. He sat up again, stretching out his back slightly. "Just thinking 'bout stuff."

"Well, what are you thinking about then?"

Oh, you know, just that I'm a terrible fucking human being who can't keep his mouth shut. Really though, Bickslow was just trying to decide if he was better off sitting there and pretending he hadn't done anything wrong, or admitting what he'd done. Either way Lucy hated him, so Bickslow didn't think it mattered what he did at that point. He just didn't know if he could sit there and pretend everything was fine knowing full well that he'd betrayed Lucy's trust again. She deserved better than that. Really, she deserved better than him.

"Bix, come on," Lucy sang, reaching across to nudge his arm. "What's on your mind?"

Bickslow grimaced. He really wasn't going to get out of that. If he shrugged it off then Lucy would know he was lying, and that was the last thing he needed to be doing to her right then. He had no hope of getting her to trust him if couldn't even tell her when he'd fucked up.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together nervously. "I, uh… I have to tell you something. Something I did," Bickslow mumbled.

Lucy frowned. She knew what that was about already. There was only one thing Bickslow could've done to have him feeling so guilty, at least as far as Lucy could tell. Even then, Lucy still hoped she wasn't right. "You told your parents something," Lucy said.

The fact Lucy somehow already knew just made him feel even worse. "My mother."

"That I was pregnant?"

Bickslow nodded, a grim look on his face. Lucy let out a deep sigh, and Bickslow briefly wondered if he'd have been better off keeping his mouth shut after all. But Lucy not saying anything else just made him worry.

"She's plotting your murder," Pippi supplied. At that point, Bickslow really wouldn't have put it past her.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I know I said I'd stop blurting out shit, and I really wanted to, but I was… I was drunk, and I don't even remember why I told her, but I am like, really, so sorry." He'd said sorry so many times over the last week that Bickslow was sick of hearing himself say it. No doubt Lucy would be sick of it too, and Bickslow wouldn't blame her. But Lucy still wasn't saying anything and Bickslow worried he'd passed the point where apologies meant anything at all. "Why… Why aren't you saying anything? Please, just… Anything. I'd literally take anything at this point. Just tell me how mad you are, scream at me, just—"

"I'm not mad," Lucy mumbled.

"Then what?"

Lucy wasn't sure what she was, but it certainly wasn't mad. If anything, she just wasn't that surprised. Somewhere deep down, she'd expected Bickslow to break her trust again. Somehow, actually expecting Bickslow to do it didn't change how much it hurt.

"I don't know…" She shrugged. "Disappointed, I guess."

Bickslow tried not to groan. It was like she was his mother. Being disappointed was a whole lot worse than mad. He really would've preferred Lucy being pissed at him. "Lucy, I swear, I didn't mean it. And… And I'll staple my mouth shut together or something if that's what I have to do to stop saying shit I shouldn't."

"I know," Lucy mumbled. "And there's nothing really left for you to tell anyone else anyway."

Even with Lucy letting out the slightest of laughs, it didn't make Bickslow feel any better. He didn't even know what he could say. Knowing his luck, Bickslow was sure he'd be better off not saying anything else at all.

Still, as much as Lucy would've preferred Bickslow to be able to keep one thing to himself, she wasn't mad, and she couldn't really blame him that time either. She probably would've told her parents had they still been alive. Maybe not her father—Lucy could live without his judgement—but her mother, definitely, because that was what mothers were for, wasn't it? She'd been so young when her mother had passed that Lucy could hardly remember what it was like to have one, but she liked to think sometimes that out of anyone in the world, her mother would've been the one person she could turn to no matter what.

But Lucy didn't really have anyone to do that with. She adored her team of course, and they essentially were her only family at that point, but there were some things that Lucy wouldn't dream of telling them—all the things that Bickslow had blurted out the second he had a chance. But she still couldn't fault Bickslow for having someone he could confide in. There was a tiny part of her that envied him for it, if she was honest, but Lucy knew better than to dwell on that thought for too long. She couldn't rightly be jealous of someone for having living parents.

And at the end of it all, Lucy couldn't ignore the fact that there had to have been some reason for Bickslow to say what he had, even if he had been drunk. Lucy just hadn't really stopped to consider how he felt—what he felt, even. She hadn't wanted to tell him at first because she just hadn't thought he needed to know. It wasn't like it particularly mattered. The only reason she'd brought it up at all was because of everything else they'd been talking about at the time. And at the time, for just a brief moment, Lucy had thought it was something she had needed to share. She'd needed to get it off her chest, to have someone else know about the one thing she still couldn't entirely wrap her head around herself.

So maybe that was all it was for Bickslow, too. Maybe he, too, had just needed to confide in someone else, because who else could he tell? Lucy had only been able to tell him, and Bickslow had only been able to tell his mother. She was someone he trusted to share the truth with, just as Bickslow was to Lucy.

"I guess I never asked what you thought—if… if you thought anything at all…" Lucy mumbled.

Bickslow's head snapped back up. Is this really happening? "What? Lucy, you didn't need to. You didn't have to do anything, so don't think that you should've done something you didn't have to do just because I can't keep my stupid mouth shut."

"Well, I just mean that you would've had to have been thinking about it to tell her, so obviously you have some feelings about it…"

Did he, though? "I didn't—I don't, I mean. That's not—"

"It's okay, though," Lucy said quietly. "If you do, I mean. You're allowed to have feelings about things. I can't stop that." She wrung her hands together nervously in her lap. Perhaps part of not wanting to tell Bickslow in the first place had just been part of her need to force it all to the back of her mind. She'd been doing a great job of not thinking about it though, at least until she left Magnolia, but now Lucy wondered if ignoring it and going on like nothing had happened had really been the best idea.

"It's just… weird," Bickslow found himself admitting after a moment's silence, almost guiltily. There were dozens of things he'd rather be talking about right then—like the weather, or even Laxus—but there was something oddly freeing about having that conversation, at least with Lucy. Maybe it was because he'd just never expected it. "Just… How there can be something, and then… nothing, just like that."

"I know." Lucy didn't think she'd ever quite wrap her head around the fact there'd been anything at all. Part of her didn't think she wanted to.

Lucy got up without a word, merely a sigh as she dusted off her legs. Bickslow looked up quickly, ignoring the welling panic inside him. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. "What, where are you… Where are you going?"

"Calm down, I'm just going to get a drink," Lucy laughed. She'd made the mistake of not picking one up when they'd been waiting on their food, and now she was regretting it. Thankfully, she had a good enough memory to be able to figure out her way back to the small store on her own.

Bickslow felt like a fool. "Oh…" he muttered, casting his eyes downward quickly. Lucy laughing at him wasn't nearly as bad as the babies doing it in his head, though. "So you're not… mad or anything? You don't hate me?"

She looked down at him with a pitiful smile. "I could never hate you, Bickslow," she sighed. "I've tried."

Bickslow didn't sleep that night. Between the sticky heat and Lucy's words bouncing around in his head, he wasn't even sure why he bothered trying to get any rest at all.

By the time the babies started nudging him to tell him Scarlett was waking up, Bickslow had long since given up on sleep, and he considered the early morning feeding a blessing. Admittedly, he'd been hoping for it. He'd needed something to occupy his mind, but he hadn't wanted to wake his daughter unnecessarily; she'd already started sleeping through the night on the odd occasion, something Bickslow also considered a blessing, at least once his father had put his mind at ease about whether or not he should actually let her sleep all night.

He ventured outside to his favourite swing, sitting gently to avoid rocking it too much. The last thing he needed was to have his kid choke or something, and knowing his luck, sitting down the wrong way would make it happen. Still, it was just a little cooler outside, just a little more refreshing, and Bickslow didn't mind the peace and quiet at all.

Except, Bickslow could never really have peace and quiet those days, not unless he was asleep and that seemed to be becoming a rare occurrence anyway. If it wasn't Scarlett crying, or the babies being their usual chatty selves, or Lucy yelling at him, then it was his own head that ruined it. And sure enough, the intrusive thoughts came back again, because what the fuck had Lucy meant by what she'd said earlier?

Did she want to hate him? Honestly, Bickslow wouldn't be surprised. He hated himself most of the time, at least those days. If he were Lucy, he would've dropped his sorry ass long ago. He really hadn't the slightest clue why she put up with so much. He hadn't exactly been the best friend to her the last few weeks. Or, well, whatever he was supposed to be to her, at least.

Still, the longer he thought on it, the more Bickslow realised that Lucy wanting to hate him had probably just been inevitable. He had an awful track record when it came to screwing everything up in the most royal of fashions. Leaving home at eighteen certainly hadn't been the smartest idea, definitely not at first, and the people he'd gotten involved with back then Bickslow really could've lived without ever knowing. Letting Laxus talk him and his team into trying to take the guild had just been one giant cluster fuck. And then there was his daughter, the one thing he loved more than anything in the whole world, but even she was a screw up. A kid had been the last thing he'd wanted, but even then, she was a fuck up he wouldn't take back. But his entire life had just been a series of giant fuck ups and him doing his best to make the best of everything. It was just the same with Lucy too. He fucked things up and tried to make it up to her. He fucked things up again, and tried to make it up to her. Except Bickslow didn't know how much of that she would even put up with. He didn't want to know, either.

By the time the sun was just beginning to rise, Bickslow still hadn't slept. Scarlett had gone back to her crib and the babies had gone back to their posts and as far as Bickslow knew, Lucy had barely moved, apart from maybe inching just a tiny bit closer to his side. Even in the dark, time moved painfully slowly. The steady tick of the second hand on the alarm clock beside him was enough to drive a man crazy. After a while, even Lucy breathing just a little too heavily every now and then began to grate on his nerves. Finally, when the first sign of dawn came around with the birds in the cyprus trees and palms just outside, Bickslow gave up on sleep altogether. There were better things he could be doing with his time other than stare at the ceiling.

Probably.

It was light enough that Bickslow decided to make the most of it, rather than sulk downstairs while trying to think of something to do. The train station would be open, and no doubt a few of the cafes in town would be too. So he crept out of bed again, grabbing the first set of clothes he could from his dresser before ducking into the bathroom to change and freshen up. He didn't want to wake Scarlett so he simply left her alone in her crib, with Pippi staying in the corner just in case. He wondered if he should leave a note for Lucy just in case she managed to wake up, but he decided it wouldn't be worth it. He wasn't planning on staying out for long. He'd be back before she even rolled over again.

But Lucy did notice, partly because she just couldn't seem to sleep very well there, and partly because Bickslow wasn't as quiet as he thought he was. So when he got back just a little later and tried to slip back into bed beside her as carefully as possible, Lucy couldn't help but say something.

Bickslow had barely even let out his breath when he felt the mattress jostle and Lucy turn back around to face him. "You okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, 'course," Bickslow said quick. He'd been trying to avoid that, though, the questioning. He knew Lucy was an early riser, and if he wasn't there when she woke up, then she'd wonder where he was and Bickslow hadn't wanted that. He just hadn't expected her to wake up that early. "I'm fine. Just go back to sleep. It's still early."

Lucy wasn't so convinced. "You know, you're not that good a liar, Bix. You're also not very good at sneaking around in the dark. I heard you when you walked into the dresser."

Granted, Bickslow had sworn a little when he'd kicked his toe on the corner of the damn thing when he'd been trying to get back into the room, but he'd still hoped he hadn't been loud enough to wake Lucy up. "Sorry," he mumbled, taking the opportunity to try and get somewhat comfortable again now that he didn't have to worry about waking Lucy up. He couldn't though, since of course Lucy had migrated far past the centre, and he was just about falling off the edge of the mattress. "God, do you mind moving over or something? Trying to kick me out of my own bed or what?"

"Sorry," she laughed. She didn't move as much as Bickslow would've liked, just back to the middle really, but he didn't have the energy to complain about it. "Where did you go?" Lucy asked quietly after a moment.

Bickslow sighed. "Just sat outside with Scout for a bit when I gave her a bottle, and then… Then I still couldn't sleep so I figured I'd just go out and pick up a few things, and the station was open so I thought I might as well get you a ticket since I assumed you'd still want to leave today and all so the least I could do was pay for your ride back home."

Admittedly, Lucy had kind of forgotten about wanting to leave. She'd stopped really thinking about it once Bickslow had talked her into staying just that extra day to try and make it up to her, not that he'd really done that at all. Now that Bickslow was reminding her of it, though, Lucy wasn't sure she wanted to leave just yet.

"Do you want me to go home?"

Bickslow hated that question. He hated that Lucy would ask it at all, but he hated that he wanted to answer it. But how the fuck was he supposed to do that when Lucy had just made it so painfully obvious she couldn't wait to leave?

"Oh, no… No, this isn't about me. This is… This is a you thing."

"But I'm asking you," Lucy insisted. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want your opinion. Unless of course that was just your way of saying you do want me to leave, and it just went completely over my head…"

Bickslow scoffed. "No, that's definitely not what it was."

"So?"

Bickslow had a feeling he was stuck. If he lied and said he wanted her to leave, she'd be upset, and Bickslow couldn't even stand to think about that after the shit he'd already done. If he tried to dodge the question entirely and tell her it didn't matter, that it was up to her, then… Well, she'd probably just bug him for however long it took to get the truth out of him, and strangely enough, Bickslow had hoped to maybe get a little bit of rest that morning, now that the tiredness was well and truly starting to kick in.

Still, maybe the only way out of it was to just… tell the truth. That was usually the wisest option, after all. Bickslow supposed he should start trying to do the wise or the right thing every now and then, be a good role model to his kid and all.

"I don't want you to do something you don't want to do," he eventually admitted. "So, you know, if you want to leave, I'm not going to stop you. That wouldn't be fair."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Lucy murmured.

"Doesn't it?"

"No."

"See, I think it does. I want you to do whatever you want to do."

"Bickslow."

He sighed in defeat, perhaps just a little in irritation too. Just the way she said his name, with that hint of amusement hiding behind the annoyance as he tested her patience. Of course she found it fucking funny. Maybe if I just keep going, she'll get fed up with me and leave anyway. Except Bickslow was ignoring that thought the second it crossed his mind. He didn't even need the babies telling him he was a fool in his head to know how moronic it was. He wasn't going to go out of his way to make Lucy hate him more than necessary.

"Okay, fine. I… would like you to stay, okay?" Bickslow finally said in exasperation, quickly continuing, "but I'm still not going to force you to because I know how much you hate it here and how fucking done you are with me and everything else here right now—"

"Then I can stay," Lucy said softly with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

And just like that, Bickslow knew he'd actually lost. It felt horrible, too. But it felt strange, because he felt like he should be glad; he was technically getting what he wanted. It just felt wrong. He felt guilty. He could feel the tension in his muscles, at the base of his neck and the tightness between his shoulders. Or perhaps he was just becoming aware of it again after getting so used to it after the last few days. And the deep-seated regret buried in his chest, becoming increasingly more apparent over the days. None of it felt right.

And yet, in a way, Bickslow felt like he deserved all of it.

But even being so utterly defeated in it all, Bickslow still couldn't understand why any of it mattered—why he mattered. And while Lucy was seemingly content to just leave it at that and go back to sleep for a little bit, Bickslow couldn't. It was just one more thing added to the ever growing list of things to keep him up at night.

"Why stay?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"I mean, you hate it here. Yesterday all you wanted to do was get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. And now… Now you'll stay just because I want you to? I just… Why?"

Lucy wasn't all that sure why Bickslow was making a fuss about it. But, maybe he just didn't quite get it. Not yet, at least. "Because part of loving someone is accepting them at their worst," she whispered. It wouldn't be fair for her to judge him on just a few bad days. Families tended to bring out the worst in people, didn't they?

"Wait… What?"

"That's what friends are for."

Bickslow resisted hitting himself in the head. Of course that's what she meant, because what fucking else could she have meant? For a split second he had thought she loved him—capital L. How stupid.

"This… isn't you. I know it isn't, because I know you," Lucy said, pressing her palm against the centre of his chest. Or at least, Lucy liked to think she did. Still, maybe she was just being stupid after all and she'd just been misjudging Bickslow for all that time and this was the real him. Lucy wasn't sure she wanted to take that bet, though. "I know you would stick around if it were me, and you've been there for me at my worst. It wouldn't be fair to leave."

"What if it is, though?" Bickslow asked. "Me, I mean. What if this is just what I'm like and you're wrong about me."

"I'm not."

"You don't know that."

Lucy stopped. Something just felt so awfully wrong. She knew Bickslow could be difficult, and argumentative even on the best of days, but she didn't know why he was pushing it so far. "Bickslow…" She sat up on her elbow, reaching over him to switch on the light quickly. He shied away under her worried gaze, although Lucy couldn't tell if it was because he was hiding something or because of the light. "If you want me to go home, I can. It's okay."

"No, I don't. I… I said that already."

"Then why are you being like this? I don't understand," she whispered.

Why are you like this? Bickslow would be rich—well, richer —if he had a jewel for every time someone had asked him that. It was the story of his life at that point. But Bickslow knew why Lucy was asking it. He wasn't exactly being cooperative, or helpful in the slightest.

He never had been a particularly nice person to be around when he was in his moods. Most people either never saw it, or if they did, they quickly decided he wasn't worth any effort—which he wasn't, Bickslow would readily admit that himself. But he didn't want Lucy to decide that. Not really, at least. Maybe that was just him being selfish though, because he wasn't entirely sure what he'd actually do if that happened. Bickslow supposed it would probably be worth thinking about at some point in the future, given how things were already going. It would just be a matter of time until she got fed up with him.

Still, Bickslow didn't want to plan for the worst. He didn't want to go out of his way to drive Lucy away, and he was sure he wasn't very far away from that as it was.

"I don't want to hurt you again," he finally admitted quietly, turning his head back on the pillow to look up at her. "And I'm scared that's all I'm capable of doing now."

Lucy smiled down at him before leaning back down, placing her hand on his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Bickslow, no. It's okay," she whispered. "You won't. I know you won't. We all make mistakes sometimes, and sometimes people get hurt in the process, even when you don't mean it. But that's why we learn from our mistakes, okay? And… And then families, they… They can be stressful, I know, and sometimes that just makes you do stupid things and that's okay, too. But… But you're not a bad person. Or whatever you think you are. I know you're not. Having a bad time doesn't make you a bad person."

Bickslow just hoped she was right.

Bickslow had been all too pleased when he'd finally gone downstairs later in the morning just to find out from one of his mother's cleaning staff —Sally, or something, he thought her name was —that his parents had gone to visit his brother and wouldn't be back until the afternoon.

Aside from the fact that he hadn't really wanted to deal with them, or at least his mother, he knew Lucy certainly hadn't either. She'd been so adamant about avoiding them for as long as possible that she quite literally kicked him out of his own bed to go and make her breakfast (not that Bickslow had complained that much, of course). But it had been a good day—a peaceful day. He hadn't had to deal with his brother being a twat, or his mother judging him for something, or Lucy sulking because of his mother. It had been a normal day, like back home in Magnolia, and for a little while, Bickslow had almost forgotten that everything just fucking sucked and that Lucy didn't hate him a solid eighty-three percent of the time.

But… Then his parents had gotten home. And, at first, Bickslow hadn't thought anything about it. He'd responded when his father had said hello while passing through and then gone straight back to waving the fluffy pink elephant in front of Scarlett's face on the floor. That was before he saw his mother though, followed by the men in the disgustingly orange work shirts carrying the large box with a giant stamp of his mother's favourite furniture store on it. Honestly, Bickslow was surprised the place was still open. His mother was probably the only customer they had at that point, but she probably spent enough to keep them in business on her own too.

"Just up the stairs here and to the left, if you would, please," Idelle instructed.

"More furniture you don't need, really?" Bickslow remarked, glancing up from his daughter when Idelle decided to hover at the edge of the room.

"Well, not that I need to explain how I spend my money, since it is my money after all," she huffed. She was still a little sore after Bickslow and Alexander had commented on her chaise-buying habits when they'd been young. She had money, and a big house, and she liked chaise lounges. There wasn't anything wrong with that. "But, since it was for you anyway…"

"Oh?" Now Bickslow was intrigued. He couldn't see why his mother would be replacing furniture in his room now since she knew he wasn't there enough for it to matter, and it wasn't like she was buying him something for his own home an eight hour trip away. But if the shuffling and suspicious looking away was anything to go by, then Bickslow wasn't sure he wanted to know what the answer was.

"Well, I just thought that since you're a father now, it might be a good time for you to maybe move back home."

Lucy was sure Bickslow was ready to hit someone, and he probably would've if it wasn't his mother in front of him. But Lucy knew better than to stick around. The last thing she wanted was to get in the middle of those two, and that whole mess in front of her… That was a them thing. "You know what? I think I'm just going to go and get a bit of fresh air," Lucy announced, carefully scooping up Scarlett and prying the pink elephant from his hand while he continued staring at his mother. She had a feeling it was going to get ugly, and Lucy would rather deal with a few minutes of heat than listen to Bickslow and his mother argue. She didn't really want Scarlett to hear it, though.

Now Bickslow knew why his father had scurried away as fast as he had. It wasn't very often he disappeared like that, not unless he knew Idelle was up to something and he was smart enough to be as far away as possible. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised Lucy was smart enough to get out of the way, too. But even if she hadn't left, and had just tucked herself into the corner of the lounge to sit and watch silently, Bickslow still would've stood there with his daughter and asked his mother what he was about to.

But he waited until he knew she was outside, or at least out of the room, and until he knew his mother was already realising her mistake. There was a lot Bickslow could put up with from her, just because he knew how she was and for all her annoying faults, she was still his mother and he loved the shit out of her. But Bickslow had no intentions of letting his mother use his own kid to try and get him to stay there.

"You think that just because I have a kid now, that I should just drop everything and come right back here? Is that what you're saying?"

Idelle tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, when you say it like that…" she mumbled. She was getting a little tired of her son accusing her of everything, if she was honest. She hadn't raised him to be that harsh. But that was the point of it all anyway.

"I'm saying exactly what you just said. Because that's what you just said you wanted. For me to move back here just because of Scout," Bickslow shouted. "Why the hell would I do that when you know full well that I have a perfectly good life back home?"

"Because it's not just your life any more. What if something happens to you, Bickslow? What happens to Scarlett then? This is what you need to think about now. You can't raise her all by yourself."

Of all the people, and of all the things, Bickslow never expected his mother to say that. Had it been Laxus, or anyone else at the guild, or even his brother, Bickslow would've brushed it off like it had never happened. But his mother? His mother calling him a shitty parent stung just a little too deep.

"Thanks. Thanks, Mum. Really appreciate it."

"Bix, that's not what I—"

"Nah, I think it was," he insisted, looking back over his shoulder before his Idelle could attempt to apologise and follow him out of the room. "You wouldn't have said it otherwise."

Idelle was getting far to used to seeing Bickslow walk away, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to fix it when it felt like every little thing she did just pushed him further away.

But she knew better than to try and fix it right then. All it would do is drive him away even more and Idelle didn't want to risk that. So she'd let him go that time, just because she knew it was for the best. If she pushed him too much then, then she wouldn't get another chance.

Part of Bickslow just wanted to leave and go anywhere that wasn't there; he was almost tempted to go see his brother. But Bickslow knew he couldn't even do that. He couldn't just abandon Lucy every time his mother said something that pissed him off, and even then, doing that would just prove to her that he was the horrible parent she already thought him to be. So he was stuck there, surrounded by people who were either eternally disappointed in him or pissed at him. Bickslow wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do with that.

For the time being, though, slumping down on the patio chair and kicking the one closest to him felt like a good idea.

"What did that chair ever do to you?"

"Get in my way," Bickslow muttered.

"Aw, that poor widdle chair," Lucy cooed, bouncing Scarlett on her lap gently. "It should've known better to get in your Daddy's way, shouldn't it? Now he's all grumpy and pouty."

Bickslow tried not to roll his eyes. "I'm not pouty, thank you." But... He was most definitely grumpy. That much he'd admit. Still, he wasn't quite as grumpy as he had been thirty seconds earlier. He wasn't entirely sure why Lucy teasing him was making him feel better, though.

"Just a lil' pouty. It's cute, though."

Bickslow grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking further into the chair.

"You want to talk about it?" Lucy asked softly then.

"Not really." He wasn't sure there was anything to talk about. As far as Bickslow was concerned, the conversation was over. Sure, his mother would be coming back to him to try and get him to see things her way again, or even try and convince him that she hadn't actually been calling him a shitty parent, but Bickslow knew his answer wouldn't change.

And then there was Lucy, because there was always Lucy. Bickslow didn't see the point of telling her something so pointless, mostly because it was just that, but there was a small part of him that worried that she would agree with his mother. What if Lucy thought he was a horrible father, too? What if, at the end of the day, that was all she was staying for? For Scarlett. Because she didn't trust him to take care of his own child on his own.

If that was the case, Bickslow wasn't even sure he'd be able to prove he was capable of it—that he could prove them all wrong.

But Bickslow tried to ignore that, because it was a stupid thought and there was definitely no way Lucy would actually think that too.

"Anyway, uh…" He coughed, pushing himself up on the armrests, slouching a little less. "Was there anything you wanted to do tonight? I mean, if you still didn't want to leave yet, but if you do, then that's cool."

"Mm, no, not particularly," Lucy answered. "Was there anything you wanted to do?"

Bickslow shrugged. He hadn't really thought about what he wanted to do, so he wasn't sure there was anything he wanted to do. Mostly, he just didn't care. "I mean… no? I don't think so, at least."

"Well, that's okay. I don't mind if we just hang around here, if that's what you'd prefer to do."

Now that Bickslow thought about it, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Sitting around at his parents' house all day? Fuck no. If he'd wanted to just hang out inside all day with Lucy, then he'd have gone home straight after Christmas, or at the very least he wouldn't have tried so hard to get Lucy to stay if he'd planned on making her sit there and babysit his daughter while he went off with his family for whatever bullshit they wanted to drag him to. Besides, Bickslow wasn't exactly interesting in being around his parents right then, or at least his mother. But what exactly was he supposed to do instead?

"Dinner?"

"Hm?" Lucy hummed.

"Uh, do you want to go out for dinner, I meant," Bickslow mumbled. He wasn't really sure what else to suggest, but he was quite fond of food and eating so it seemed like the smart thing to suggest.

"I would love to get dinner. Will we take Scout?"

"I mean… Uh… Maybe?" Or maybe he should take Scarlett, because he didn't really want to add any more fuel to the fire when it came to his mother's opinion on his parenting—or lack thereof. He couldn't exactly dump his kid on his parents every night just because he was there. "Actually, fuck it. We'll take her. It'll be cute." It'd be like a cute, awkward, weird family adventure. Just him, his kid, and Lucy doing… weird domestic and familial things… like normal, non-weird families. "Unless… Unless you don't want to bring her," Bickslow quickly added. "In which case I guess I could ask Dad to watch her… Or Alex…"

"Come on, why wouldn't I want to bring her?" She lifted Scarlett up high to blow raspberries on her cheeks. "We can go to a park and go get ice-cream and make all the other babies jealous of how cute you are."

After nearly four decades of marriage, Felix supposed he should've known better than to ask what was bothering his wife, because it usually ended up being something silly and then Felix wound up regretting asking. But his wife liked to pout when something was irritating her, and he knew all too well what would happen if he didn't ask what the problem was: she'd sigh dramatically for the next fifteen minutes, hoping to get his attention and make him inevitably ask what the problem was. And Felix didn't like when that happened, mostly because it disturbed his reading, but also because Idelle was really good at making him feel bad about it.

"What's the problem now, dear?" Felix finally sighed, laying his book down on his lap and watching his wife over the top of his reading glasses.

"Nothing, nothing," Idelle said.

Felix raised an eyebrow at her. "Nothing? Come on, I know you better than that. You've been moody all afternoon."

"I haven't been moody, thank you." Idelle shot him a harsh look that only got her a sheepish smile in response. "It's just…"

Felix watched in silence for another moment as he waited for Idelle to finish, watching as her brow furrowed and she wracked her brain for the right words. "Just Bix?" he supplied.

"Yes!" Idelle exclaimed, a frustrated sigh quickly following as she finally climbed into bed. She should've known not to even bother trying to find a word for how she felt, because she'd never been able to find one that suited when it came to her oldest child, especially right then. It wasn't like she was mad at him, or even disappointed, or even particularly worried. Or maybe it was that she was all of them, at least to some extent, and it was just that none of them had ever really felt right for Bickslow. Mostly, Idelle just wanted to shake some reason into him, but she wasn't sure that would even do much. "Do you think he hates me?" she asked softly.

"Oh, please. Of course not. I don't know why you keep asking that."

"Because apparently I keep saying things that make him hate me!"

"Maybe you should stop saying them then."

Idelle gasped and shot a glare over her shoulder at her husband, making a point of facing away when he chuckled at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Dell, you know I was kidding," Felix said.

"Were you?"

He gave a small shrug. "Mostly," he admitted.

Idelle scowled at him. Her life would be so much easier if her husband just agreed with her for a change. Sometimes she swore he did it just to rile her up.

"I'm just trying to help him, Felix," she murmured. "But every time I say something, he thinks it's some kind of attack on him and it's not!"

"I know."

"You should talk to him! He'll listen to you!"

"No… No, I'm not doing that. You know that."

"Please, you can help him see reason!"

"Idelle, no. I'm not going to try and talk him into something he doesn't want to do. He's an adult. He can make his own choices."

She sat back slightly, just out of his reach. "Are you saying you don't want our son back again? You know, come to think of it, I don't remember you complaining too much when he left the first time."

Felix groaned and rolled his eyes. They'd definitely had that conversation before. He was almost regretting asking her what was bothering her. He picked up his book again, opening up to the page he'd last been on. "Now, you know that's not true," he argued. "All I'm saying is it isn't our place to tell him what he should be doing anymore. He can look after himself."

"I know he can." Idelle had never questioned Bickslow's ability to take care of himself. It had been the one thing that had kept her from completely losing her shit when he'd decided to go off on his own. If it was one thing they'd done, albeit unintentionally, it was raise him to be independent and his own person. Part of Idelle had always envied her son of that, too. The problem, though, was that it wasn't just Bickslow anymore. "I'm not worried about him," she said. "I'm worried about Scarlett. I just want her to have the best life she can."

"And she'll have that."

"Will she? Raising a child is hard. She won't even have her mother! And Lucy is wonderful and I know how much Bix cares for her, but it's just… It's not the same, Felix. Scarlett deserves to have her family around her. Not just… Not just her father and those fools he gets into trouble with all the time."

"They're not that bad, Dell," Felix said warily. He grimaced at the raised eyebrow Idelle aimed towards him.

"Really?"

"I'm sure they're better now, at least," he corrected himself. Really, he hadn't followed them all that much. Felix had never enjoyed the mage magazines his wife adored so much. He'd never really cared for magazines at all. All he knew of Bickslow's friends was what his son, or his wife, had told him. And as far as Felix was concerned, everyone had things they were ashamed of doing.

Idelle fidgeted with the duvet and fluffed up the pillow behind her head, making a fuss of getting comfortable. "Mm-hmm, I'm sure," she mumbled.

"I still think you should cut him a break," Felix added with a careful glance to Idelle before quickly turning back to his book. "I know you'd be doing the exact same thing if you were in his shoes."

"Oh, would I, now?"

It's a trap. Felix knew that. But his wife brought out the stubborn side in him and he wasn't about to roll over now. "Yes. You would. Because I remember all those wonderful things you said about your parents when Bix was a baby and they were trying to tell you what to do with him." It really had been wonderful, though. Sitting there in bed one night, with Idelle storming from one end of the room to the other and complaining about her father being far too persistent in trying to teach her how to raise her own child, and swearing like a sailor while at it. If he hadn't loved her already, Felix was sure listening to thirty minutes of his elegant, gorgeous wife spouting the most creative and vile of insults would've done it.

Idelle couldn't help the quirk of her lips, just a hint of a smile as she remembered fondly. She didn't think it had been her finest moment, but she could remember Felix bursting out laughing merely seconds after she'd finally stopped ranting.

"Just think about it, though," Felix continued gently. "You've got a baby you probably didn't plan on having, you're a single parent, trying to figure it all out all on your own, and the minute you go back home, the people who are supposed to believe in you and support you no matter what are telling you that you're a shitty parent and that you have no hope in hell of raising a kid on your own. How would that make you feel?"

"…Horrible," Idelle mumbled. "But it doesn't matter because I wouldn't be in that situation anyway because I wouldn't be a single parent, and even if I wasn't, I'd still make sure that my baby had both—"

"Idelle."

She sighed, pulling the duvet up firmly and pouting into the edge of the pillow. "Fine. I see your point." And it wasn't as if she'd been oblivious to Felix's point all along, because she hadn't been. She was stubborn though, that much she would admit, and perhaps just a little old fashioned, at least if she were to ask Bickslow. But she didn't really know any better. She'd grown up surrounded by the the idyllic family; there was no such thing as divorce or a step-parent, and she'd never really known anyone to be a single parent, not until their kids were all well and grown and had their own little ones to take care of and by that point it didn't matter. Even then, Idelle knew she'd been lucky to be able to choose her family. Felix certainly hadn't been her parents' favourite choice. He hadn't been their choice at all, really, but she'd been young and in love and her parents never really had been able to say no to her.

But when Bickslow came to her and was so adamant about doing things his way, she couldn't really help but be a little opinionated about it all. She really did just want to help.

"You're thinking about something again," Lucy mused. She heard the quiet giggling of Bickslow's babies as she made her way over to the bed, giving one last look to Scarlett in the crib first.

Bickslow was still too busy staring up at the ceiling with that dumb look on his face—something not quite a scowl that just made Bickslow actually scowl whenever she pointed it out. But he'd been like that for a good portion of the night, and Lucy wasn't quite sure what else he could have left to think about at that point.

"Let me guess." She climbed up onto the mattress, dragging a pillow with her to Bickslow's side before collapsing down next to him. "You're wondering, 'why is Lucy so great?' That, or you're trying to figure out how to get away with murdering someone and get away with it. Probably Laxus."

"To be fair, when am I not thinking that?"

"Which one?"

Bickslow scoffed. "Not a chance." Yeah, right. Like he was going to answer that one. He'd already said enough to just mildly hate himself. The babies telling him just how smooth he was certainly didn't help. It was still true, though. He was already halfway to accepting the fact he was probably just a tiny bit head over heels for her—which, well, wasn't exactly something Bickslow was happy about, but he didn't think he had much choice in the matter at that point. And as for wanting to murder Laxus… Bickslow had wanted to kill the guy the second they'd met. But the guy was his best friend and he loved him, and in all reality, Bickslow wasn't sure he'd know what to do if that blond douchebag wasn't in his life. He couldn't exactly go and murder his best friend. Then he wouldn't have a best friend.

Well, he'd still have Freed and Evergreen, but he couldn't exactly call Evergreen out for being a bitch without her thumping him. Laxus would just call him a cunt and it'd be a day. That was their thing.

"That was almost sweet," Lucy snickered.

He rolled his eyes. Almost sweet. Sure.

"Seriously though, what's on your mind?" Lucy sat up, pushing her hair back out from under her shoulder. "I doubt you want me to keep guessing what it is you're stuck worrying about." She supposed she could also just leave him the hell alone, but… Well, that wasn't all that fun. Besides, she worried about him.

Part of Bickslow was just a little curious to hear what else Lucy could come up with, but he figured he could shine light in the dark recesses of her creative mind another time. He'd probably have to be drunk to face the shit she could conjure up anyway.

He sighed, pushing one of the pillows behind his head out of the way before collapsing down on his side instead. Lucy raised an eyebrow at him, no doubt silently wondering if moving so roughly had been really necessary (it definitely had been). "Do you ever just think about like, leaving everything and starting over again?" he asked.

She made a face again, and that time Bickslow supposed she was just wondering if he was actually serious and wasn't just messing with her. He kind of wished he was, mostly because he just hated the fact that starting over somewhere new sounded way to appealing right then.

"Like running away?"

"Well, when you say it that way, it makes it sounds like something an edgy fifteen-year-old that's mad at his parents would do."

"So… Like what you did?"

Bickslow scowled and groaned. He supposed he'd walked into that one. "You know, has anyone ever told you you're kind of a bitch?"

"No, because I'm a wonderful person and everyone loves me," Lucy snickered.

"Or everyone is just afraid you'll like, murder them if they turn their back on you or some shit."

"Of course not. Besides, you're not afraid of me now, are you?"

"Oh, yes, definitely. I'm fucking terrified you're going to kill me the second I go to sleep." He really wouldn't put it past her either. There was probably a reason no one dare said anything bad about Lucy: she'd give them that terrifying fucking smirk while holding up her keys. Now that he thought about it, Bickslow wasn't even sure where she'd put her key pouch and he wasn't entirely sure he liked the idea of not being able to see it right then. Knowing Lucy, he half expected to find that weird maid spirit staring at him in the middle of the night… Or maybe the cow. Bickslow didn't know what was worse.

"Naw, don't you worry. I wouldn't do that. Killing you in your sleep would be too easy," Lucy promised in a disturbingly sweet voice that almost made Bickslow's skin crawl.

"Yeah… Right…" he mumbled. Bickslow couldn't tell if it was more frightening or arousing, and the latter was slightly concerning. "Anyway, it was dumb, I know." He rubbed a hand down his face and let out a drawn out sigh. He had to admit, it did sting a little having Lucy mock him for it all. "Just forget I said anything."

Now Lucy felt bad. In hindsight, laughing probably hadn't been the smartest thing, but she'd kind of thought he was just joking around. "No, no. It wasn't. It wasn't dumb. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made fun of you." She dragged her pillow closer, resting her head on the edge right next to Bickslow's and wrapping her arm across his middle. "I'm listening now, I promise," she whispered.

Bickslow sighed again. "Just keep thinkin' about starting over somewhere else lately and getting away from all of this bullshit."

"I'm guessing that's code for your parents."

He shrugged. It wasn't like Lucy was completely wrong. "Kinda," he mumbled. "Just, you know, being here and now all this shit with Mum has made me start thinking about things."

"Like?"

"Like… Maybe Scout will be better off away from the guild."

Lucy sat up abruptly. "What?" She knew she'd heard him right, but Lucy was sure she was missing something. "You're thinking about leaving the guild now?"

"I mean… It's not exactly the first time I've considered it…" It was really just one of those things he'd thought about in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep or when it was time for the kid's midnight bottle. Leaving the guild wasn't exactly something he'd planned on doing any time soon, but he'd had a fuck load of time to think, and it was sounding more and more like a great idea every single day.

Still, Lucy was looking at him like she wanted to thump him for even thinking about leaving the guild for just a second, and he didn't really blame her much.

"I just… I don't like being still. Like I just… I don't know how to do it since I've always been able to go and like work or just fuck off somewhere and go and do my own thing. And I mean, it's not like I can just go off and take a job on the other side of the country any more because I've got Scout and I can't exactly just dump my kid on someone else so I can disappear for fuck knows how long, and even then, what if I just don't come back? What then?" That was a terrifying thought too. Who would look after her then? His team? Katie? His parents? Bickslow wasn't sure what option he hated most.

"Bix, that's…" Lucy paused. She wanted to say it was stupid, but it wasn't. Not really, at least. Lucy wasn't sure she'd ever quite understand what kind of things Bickslow was thinking about those days. Sometimes she didn't think she wanted to, either, not when it felt like all Bickslow did was stress and panic about the future. Maybe that was the difference between them, though. Maybe that was what made Bickslow a good parent, too. "You don't have to change who you are just because you have a family. You can still be you."

"Don't I? Because it feels like I do."

"Of course not. Look at Macao. He didn't just up and leave when Romeo was born."

Bickslow grimaced. "Fuck Macao. I don't want to end up like him. He's a fucking drunk. All he does is bitch with Wakaba all day," he complained. Bickslow really would rather leave than end up like those two, if that was what a future in the guild held for him.

Lucy rolled her eyes, trying not to burst out laughing as Bickslow started to snicker at her instead. "Okay, fine. Maybe not like Macao then. But look at like, Bisca and Alzack then. They've figured out balance. And you know Asuka is spoilt as all hell in the guild. The guild loves babies. We need more babies in the guild."

That's… one way to put it. But Bickslow couldn't argue with Lucy there, because she had a point. He was just… being stubborn, because that was what he was good at being.

Still though, Bickslow wasn't just going to accept that Lucy was right about all of it, because she wasn't. Not quite. Because Macao had a family; he at least had Enno to fall back on still and Romeo had both parents to go to and not just one to rely on for every single thing possible. And Alzack and Bisca… Well, Bickslow didn't think he'd ever be able to compare any relationship he wound up in to theirs, because they were just something else entirely. But Bickslow was just one person. He didn't really have what they had.

"I know how much people in the guild like babies. Trust me, I know." It was actually kind of disturbing, now that he thought about it. Even Gajeel didn't mind the small humans, and Bickslow half expected him to threaten to eat small children in his free time. "And, you know, I'm glad Al and Bisca figured all that shit out, but… again, I don't know how I'm supposed to do what they do. I'm one person."

"But you're not alone."

"I am, though."

Lucy tried really hard not to be offended, but she failed almost instantly. Not judging Bickslow for every little thing he said wrong there was proving to be a difficult task, and the she was finding it more and more difficult to tell whether it was him or the stress talking. "Right," she said, quickly and sharply and with a hint of venom she couldn't hide.

"That was smart," the babies criticised.

Bickslow resisted the urge to smother himself with his pillow. That brief flicker of hurt on her face before she put her back to him had stung. "Fuck. Shit. I didn't—" He groaned, closing his eyes before quickly reaching out to pull Lucy back to him. "Lucy, I didn't mean—"

"No, no. I get it. It's fine."

"It's not," Bickslow said softly. Lucy stopped trying to swat his arm away, even if it had been a feeble effort, and Bickslow pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing his lips to her shoulder and her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Mm-hmm." She wasn't yet convinced.

"I didn't mean it like that. Promise."

"Sure you didn't."

"You already know I wouldn't be here without you," he reminded her. "I think you also know what I was trying to say, too." Or at least Bickslow hoped so. If she didn't, well… Perhaps he needed to be a little more direct. Still, he knew better than to underestimate her, and as much as Lucy wanted to sulk and be mad at him for his big mouth, Bickslow hoped she wasn't all mad at him.

And she wasn't. Because she wasn't an idiot. And she'd spent enough time with Bickslow to know that he had an awful habit of saying the wrong thing when it really mattered. For a moment, it had felt like she'd needed to stand there with giant, flashing sign that said 'I'M HERE FOR YOU!' for Bickslow to remember she was even there.

Still, she knew what he'd meant. But she wanted to hear it.

So she shrugged a little, glancing back over through the corner of the vision in the dim light. "Maybe."

Bickslow couldn't help the quirk of his lips. "I don't want to rely on you."

"Why not, though?"

Was she really going to make him say it? Of course she was. Bickslow was sure he deserved it, though. It had to be some kind of punishment for all the shit he'd made her put up with, having him actually talk about his feelings for once—or at least, with another person, perhaps the only person who actually needed to hear it, rather than like… the babies. Although if Lucy could read his mind, then having that kind of conversation would just be far easier. Alas, Lucy was no mind reader.

Bickslow thought for a moment, long enough for Lucy to struggle to turn back around to face him, letting her hand rest gently on his cheek. He didn't think there was a good way to say it, at least without sounding like some needy fool. But that was kind of what he felt like anyway. "Because I don't want to get used to having you around and then not know what to do when you're gone," he said.

It made sense to him, though, not wanting to rely on Lucy and take advantage of her help. Lucy seemed to be the one thing Bickslow didn't want to think about when it came to his future, mostly because he just had no idea where to begin. How was he supposed to know if things would even work out between them? For all he knew, he could say something tomorrow morning and it would be enough for Lucy to hate him for the rest of her life, and knowing his luck, Bickslow wouldn't even be surprised if it happened. Even then, though, it wasn't exactly like he could just ask her if she was going to stick around for the next decade or so, like 'Hey, do you want to raise a kid with me? It won't be weird at all.' That wasn't fair, even if Pappa had told him to do it at least four times already.

Bickslow couldn't count on things working out, though, even if the universe had well and truly made it clear they were supposed to. He wanted to. Some sappy, disgustingly romantic part of him adored the idea of having Lucy around for good. He still wasn't entirely sure why, although he did kind of blame the kid for making the concept of settling down seem just a little appealing. But he still couldn't count on all of that happening and everything working out, because Bickslow knew Lucy would leave if he did that, and then he'd really have to figure out how to raise Scarlett on his own and he didn't know if he'd be able to figure that out.

Even with Lucy already knowing about Bickslow's tendency for self-sabotage, she wasn't entirely sure why Bickslow was so convinced she wasn't going to stick around. She didn't think she'd done or said much of anything to make him think otherwise. Then again, Lucy supposed she hadn't done much to make him think she wouldn't leave, either.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bix," she whispered. "Not until you want me to."

"Should believe her, you know," Poppo said.

I know I should. But Bickslow still wasn't convinced. Believing in worst case scenarios had always been his thing anyway.

"So. Tell me about this running away plan of yours," she asked after a while. It had gotten too quiet and Lucy didn't like it. Where are you going to go?"

"God, I don't fucking know." He hadn't thought that far.

"Well that sounds like a problem," Lucy teased. "Come on. Where have you always wanted to go?" She might not want him to leave, but there was no harm in talking hypotheticals, surely.

"I don't know," he said again. He sighed, rolling back and tucking his hand behind his head.

Before Fairy Tail, Bickslow had always thought he'd spend all his time travelling, going from place to place with no real destination in mind. He'd never gotten to travel when he'd been younger, save from all the trips to Bosco, and seeing the world had been high on his list of things to do. All the people, the culture—hell, the fucking food. Going and experiencing it all was all Bickslow had wanted to do. But then he'd found the guild, and Makarov and Laxus had talked him into staying, and his grand plan of travelling the world got put on hold.

Lucy's mouth twisted into a scowl. He wasn't being very helpful. "What about Bosco?" she suggested. "Your father is Boscan, isn't he?"

"Yeah… But I've been to Bosco like a million times. I wouldn't want to live there."

"Well, I wouldn't mind seeing Bosco one day," Lucy mumbled.

"We can go to Bosco whenever, if you want to visit it that badly."

"We're taking trips together now, are we?" she asked, a sly smile turning her lips.

Bickslow rolled his eyes. A part of him was just slightly mortified at how easily he'd said it, especially after admitting that he was worried about her fucking leaving. But that was different. That was a kid thing. Bosco wasn't a kid thing. Bosco was a them thing. Well, sort of. "Please, like taking a vacation is that fucking strange. I just took you home to meet my parents for fuck's sake." Honestly, taking a vacation together seemed a little too mundane.

"No, I know. I'm going to hold you to that, though."

"What, a vacation?"

"Yes. To Bosco. Well, to anywhere, really. But I do still want to see Bosco, and I don't know anyone else who's been. Besides, it'd be fun!"

Bickslow scoffed. "Fine. We'll go to Bosco."

Lucy almost wondered if she really was crossing some kind of boundary. Maybe, despite all that time they'd spent together over the last few months, and all they did together every other day, that actually taking a trip somewhere, together, was just too much. Lucy just couldn't tell with Bickslow, though, at least not lately.

She decided not to dwell on it, though. It was all just a bit of fun anyway, and maybe Bickslow was just tired.

"Anyway," she said, pulling Bickslow's arm out from under her to rest her head on the soft pillow. "What's one place you've always wanted to visit?"

After a moment, Bickslow answered, "Enca."

"Enca?"

"Yeah. Enca." There was something appealing about it, especially the more he thought about it, and he couldn't quite help but begin to fantasise about some life there. "Always wanted to live on a beach. And it's practically always summer there, so it'd be like here. Wouldn't have to deal with the shitty snow again."

"I like snow," Lucy murmured. "Beaches are nice, though."

"You'd love these beaches. The water is like crystal clear. And there's so many waterfalls. And the mountains. God, the mountains and the rainforests would be so beautiful. I could open up a little place right on the beach, too. Could just walk along the beach or go for a swim every single day. Scout could learn to swim at the beach, and build sandcastles when she's older."

Lucy couldn't tell what she liked more between the idea of visiting Enca, or hearing Bickslow talk about it. He sounded so in love with the idea of moving that Lucy almost wanted to tell him to just go for it—to live out his dream and give the best life he could to his daughter.

But part of her wanted to be selfish. She wanted to keep them for herself. She didn't want to have to choose between everything else she loved in her life, and Bickslow.

"I could have my writing desk looking out over the ocean, too."

For a second, Bickslow smiled. "Yeah."