This is 100% inspired by my headcanon that Gajeel writes his own lullabies and sings them to his kids to help them go to sleep and Levy thinks it's the most adorable thing on the face of the earth. And I was feeling the need to write more Gajevy fluff.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

It's not the shifting of the mattress that wakes her. Nor is it the padding of his feet across the carpeted bedroom; Mavis knows that for being a hulk of a man, he's certainly light on his feet. Really it's the click of the door closing behind him and the incessant need to pee that's been Levy's constant best friend and worst enemy for the last seven months that rouses her from a fitful sleep.

She tries to settle back down, adjusting her position in bed to alleviate some of the pain in her hips, her back, her shoulders, her everywhere, from her ever-expanding body. But sleep, well sleep is like her feet, an illusion, just out of reach around the expanse of her belly.

Levy huffs, breath fluffing the strand of hair that's fallen across her face, frustrated with her body's lack of compliance. Her brain is telling her she needs to sleep. She's exhausted; she can feel it in every fiber of her being. It's almost embarrassing, considering she's taken two naps today, but no one will begrudge her that luxury, least of all Gajeel.

Growing a person is the toughest of jobs, the systematic breaking down of his mate's body to make room for the life within, and watching the process unfold before his eyes is by far her most amazing accomplishment to date according to the iron dragonslayer.

So what if she fell asleep this morning when she was supposed to be doing laundry, leaving their three and a half year old to her own devices while mommy snoozed on the couch. At least Lily had been there to watch over the indigo-haired rascal. Keeping the youngest Redfox out of trouble is a fulltime job and Levy constantly thanks her lucky stars that she's so fond of her uncle Lily and that he's more than willing to help out.

Back aching yet again, she shifts and the neon glow of the clock shines in her eyes. It's been ten minutes now, she realizes, and Gajeel has yet to return to bed.

Levy's not exactly worried; it's not an emergency. Gajeel would have woken her if it were. The overbearing protector of their little family takes his job seriously, guarding his greatest treasures from the dark forces around them. The sentiment had earned an embarrassed flush of his cheeks when she caught him cooing over their first-born before they'd even brought the infant home from the hospital that was quickly followed up with a brusque "I'm a dragonslayer; it's what we do."

Still, this night he's been gone longer than it usually takes to banish the monsters that lurk under their daughter's bed and lull her back to sleep and Levy can't help but be curious as to where her husband's gone. So she braces herself for a moment and then heaves her body off the bed.

Hand resting on the small of her back, she treads softly down the hallway. The lack of lighting means nothing. They've lived in this house long enough that Levy can traverse its halls by rote and besides, the faint glow of the waning moon illuminates her path well enough to avoid most obstacles. The former nursery, turned toddler's bedroom isn't far and would be Gajeel's first stopping point at this hour of the night. Even if he woke up for a late night snack, the habit of checking in on the sleeping babe is too deeply ingrained in him and by now it's become second nature.

Levy pauses mere steps away from the room, hearing the low rumble of Gajeel's voice. It's soothing and holds no hint fear or anger. The sound is quickly followed by the incoherent babbling of their daughter, and though she can't make out the words, from what Levy can tell the toddler is just as weary as her mother, barely clinging to the waking realm.

Relief floods through her as a knot of tension uncoils itself inside her stomach. The biggest crisis tonight is nothing more than a child awake long past her bedtime. She exhales, sighing soft enough as to not alert all to her presence.

Gajeel knows she's there, and she knows that he knows she's there. He wouldn't miss the sound of her feet waddling down the hall. His hearing is too keen for that. It's what woke him in the first place. He's always the first to wake, even when he's recently returned from a difficult job that's left him weary to the bone and coated with bruises and he's only just fallen asleep.

She knows better than to chance being too loud though and risk damaging whatever progress Gajeel has made in coaxing the little tyke back to sleep, and Levy's appearance, however much the girl adores her mother, will rile her up. It's the last thing either parent wants this late, or early in this case. Wrangling the over-tired toddler, who somehow manages to always have more energy the more exhausted she gets, is a fate that they wouldn't wish on anyone, not even Natsu.

Both parents are eternally grateful that she hasn't shown signs of inheriting her father's enhanced senses, though Gajeel insists that it's something she'll learn once he starts her training. Training, Levy is adamant, that won't start until the girl is much, much older, even if she's shown a predisposition towards her father's iron dragon slaying abilities. The morning she found the girl on top of the kitchen counter munching on one of her mother's favorite knives is a not a memory Levy cares to recall, ever.

Levy waits until she hears shifting in the room and the creak of the old rocking chair, the one that Jet and Droy bought their goddaughter upon the announcement of the impending birth, before rounding the corner, knowing that Gajeel will have adjusted their positions so that Levy can peek in on them without being spotted.

Faintly, she can hear Gajeel's voice again. The sound is still muffled by the walls, but the lilt is different, and it takes a moment for Levy's sleep addled mind to realize that he's started singing.

Where story time is Levy's domain, lullabies are where Gajeel reigns as king. Who would have thought that the guild's self-appointed crooner would have a knack for soothing cranky children?

No one had believed Levy's claim until a sleep-deprived Natsu and Lucy had walked into the guildhall with their colicky two month old desperate for sleep. Gajeel had been more than willing to come to the aid of his fellow dragonslayer, for a price, until Levy had intervened with a quick elbow to the ribs. He hadn't even made it through the first verse before the squalling infant passed out in her father's arms. Lucy's near hysterical tears of relief had been thanks enough.

Coming to a halt in the entryway to the room, Levy peers through bleary eyes at the sight before her. Gajeel gently cradles the little form, and Levy can't hold back the smile that blooms across her face at the sight of her surly husband who is so obviously wrapped around their daughter's tiny finger.

As though he can read her mind, he looks up to meet her gaze. It wouldn't surprise her if there were a telepathic bond between the two of them; she still doesn't exactly understand the whole mate-bonding thing, but then Gajeel has always been good at reading her body language.

He doesn't halt in his singing, just smirks up at her with a knowing smile. It's a new song tonight. A new one to her at least, one she's never heard before. He's always sung what he knows, using parts of their story— their lives— as inspiration for the lyrics to melodies that float around in his head. As the song continues she realizes he's retelling the tale of the S-Class trials, their first go around before they'd lost seven years of their lives.

"…and though I made her big

Doobie-doobie!

I'd never tell her that

Cause she's not fat

Shoobie-do-ba!

And now that she's S-Class

She could kick my... butt."

Gajeel's wink is barely visible in the light of the night light lacrima. Levy's face flushes at the memory, and the playful jibe at the promise he made so long ago. Yes, he definitely kept his word and made her big, though back then neither one of them could have imagined that he'd be so literal about it. She'll scold him for the taunt in the morning. Now she's too weary, and getting their daughter off to dream land is far too important to make a big deal about it, and he knows it. It's most likely why he's had the audacity to speak it now.

She leans against the doorframe, more heavily than she would normally, letting the wood bite into the fleshy portion of her arm. Levy rests her head on the frame and closes her eyes, letting his song wash across her. Toes dig into the plush carpet, kneading it like a cat, in an attempt to keep herself awake and upright. Her husband's voice is just as soothing to her as it is to children.

His song tapers off until all she can hear is the soft snores emanating from the girl in his arms. He stands, and the chair squawks out a groan as his weight is lifted off of it. Both parents cringe and Levy holds her breath waiting for cries that don't come. The little blue haired scamp just nestles further into her father's chest. Sleep has claimed her at last and Gajeel tucks her into bed.

Levy walks over to stand next to the bed. She brushes back tangles of the girl's hair; its color the perfect blend of her parents, scant shades darker than her mother's and the exact texture of her father's. Unable to resist, she leans in, pressing a kiss onto her cherubim cheek before backing out of the room.

Gajeel follows her out the door and shuts it with an almost inaudible click and then turns to his wife, a loving reprimand waiting on his tongue.

"You two should be in bed," he chides softly, gesturing to her stomach.

He's right and she nods in agreement.

This pregnancy has been significantly harder than the first one. A combination of severe morning sickness that lasted well into her second trimester and days spent wrangling a precocious toddler who inherited both her mother's natural curiosity about the world around her and not only her father's affinity for iron but also his inability to stay out of trouble.

The two turn to head back to their room and Gajeel slings an arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, allowing him to support her as they make the trek down the hall, until neither one of them can tell if Levy is walking on her own or he's actually carrying her.

"She ok?" Levy whispers.

"Yeah," Gajeel gazes down at her. "Just woke up and couldn't find her blankie. Damn thing fell between her bed and the wall. Took me too long to find it."

"Mmm," she hums, closing her eyes and letting Gajeel guide her back to their bedroom.

By now Levy can barely think straight, let alone walk straight and so she offers no protest when he scoops her up to keep her from tripping over a toy left in the middle of the hallway. How she missed it on the way down, she has no idea, nor does she give it much more than this passing thought.

She buries her head in the crook of his neck with a sleepy thanks. One arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back, he carries her the rest of the way to their bedroom as though she weighs nothing, which is ridiculous because she feels like she's gained at least one hundred pounds this time around.

Gajeel puts her down and waits until she's finished teetering and has regained her balance before moving over to the bed. He straightens the mess of blankets she left in a tangled heap. While Gajeel fusses over the state of her pillows, ensuring she has enough to cushion her back just in case she needs it, Levy feels her patience wear thin. She's more ready to crawl back into the loving embrace of her mattress and isn't she the one who's supposed to be nesting? She adds this to the growing list of things to tease him about in the morning.

Just when she's ready to reprimand the man for smothering her, again, he's at her side, scooping her back up into his arms. Gajeel lays her down, just as gently as he did their daughter and wraps the blankets around her. Crossing to his side of the bed, he throws back the covers with much less caution and flings himself onto the mattress, ready for bed himself.

Levy scoots closer, and he wraps an arm around her waist, rubbing a hand down her back. She rests her head on his bare shoulder and sighs, comfortable and content with her family finally snuggled into their beds for the night. Still, she has one last request.

"Sing me a song?" she asks.

He chuckles, a breathy sound given that he's so close to sleep himself, but he can't help but indulge his girl. Stroking her cheek, he whispers, "Anything for you, Shrimp," and then begins an old familiar song.

"Shoobie-do-ba! Sha-la-la!

A demon and I were underwater…

I was fightin' while blowing air bubbles.

The Shark bastard's exterior was tough as anything, but hardly a match for me.

Sha-la-la!

But then I ran out of breath, shoobie-doo-ba!

Crap! Crap! I thought I was a goner…

Doobie-doobie!

Fade-in on a little form.

That woman gave me air…"

Levy shakes her head, just as embarrassed by the song now as she was back when he first wrote it and presses a kiss against his collarbone with a smirk and Gajeel can feel the teasing tone behind her actions.

"What? I told ya it'd be a classic," he chuckles.

"You're a dork, you know that," she breathes against his chest. The lullaby has done its job though and she feels herself fading, drifting further and further from consciousness.

"Only for you, Shrimp," he murmurs, kissing her forehead softly. "Only for you."

"G'night Gajeel," she sighs.

"Good night, Lev."