this was supposed to be a nalu matchmaker oneshot told through the perspective of a scary old lady, but it quickly got out of hand.

multichapter.

oh and Lucy's landlady is called martha...

(very lightly edited)

Prologue

"...let me tell you a story..."

Years later when Lucy discovers just how much her landlady knows about her private life, she is visibly uncomfortable.

"Tell that dragonslayer of yours that if he's planning to live here with you," the little old lady says, wrinkled hands planted firmly on her hips, "that the least he can do is make sure your rent is paid on time."

Lucy sputters, and freshly polish fingers accidentally drop the package that she had been holding.

And even though the number of people who could be sending her valuable items has significantly decreased in recent years―and she seriously doubts the package could be from him―she still winces as the label describing the mysterious package as 'fragile' lands sideways and the box hits the floor with a hard thud. The sound of glass, or maybe clay, hitting the ground rings in the air and for a brief moment Lucy feels bad for whoever sent her…whatever was in the box. Brief because considering the destructive force of her friends the 'fragile' item probably wouldn't have lasted that much longer in her apartment.

Plus if it really was from him, this really was the kindest way for it to go.

"Do be careful," her landlady scolds, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she looks at Lucy sternly, as if she is not responsible for the blonde's sudden lack of grip,"Unless you want me to add any damages to your rent this month."

"No, no. Sorry." Lucy replies, shaking her head fervently because the last thing that she needs―especially with the day she's having so far―is to pay anyone any more money. And considering she hasn't been on a job in two weeks and the only thing standing between her and the cold, hard street is a few thousand Jewel, she doesn't have the money to pay for the repairs even if she wanted to.

But it can't be helped.

Housing Natsu these last few weeks, while amazing for Lucy's more carnal and emotional needs, is seriously depleting her living funds.

She hadn't really considered how much food the dragonslayer actually ate before it became her responsibility to ensure that there was still something left in the house after each of his feasts. And while she had previously found his mammoth appetite oddly endearing―because if Natsu wasn't ingesting inhumane quantities of food, aflame or not, there was clearly something very wrong―now? It was nothing more than a nuisance. One that meant that she was now spending more time and more money at the market than she had ever planned to, as well as dedicating a substantial amount of her budget to stocking up on white paint. Because somehow her white walls always ended up covered in soot, no matter how many times she reminded Natsu not to eat fire in her very white, very flammable apartment.

Not to mention the added stress of ensuring her landlady remained blissfully unaware of the fire hazard occurring every day at dinner time―because not only did Natsu eat copious amounts of food and fire but he also liked to set all of his food on fire―was definitely going to have her hair going grey before she even hit twenty-five. That, or give her a heart attack.

But as much as she may complained about Natsu's eating habits―hourly, because that was how often she caught him creeping around the kitchen with flame in hand―she really has no plans to kick him out. She loves him and she loves being there every morning when the sunlight hits his peaceful sleeping face and she has the chance to count each of the tiny freckles that are dotted around his nose in the summer. Loves being the first thing he sees when he wakes up and watching that lazy morning smile spread across his face like wildfire as he greets her. Loves how the sheets slip off his arms as she reaches for her and pulls her close. These last few weeks with Natsu have made her greedy and admittedly a little bit needy but she doesn't really care. He is hers just as much as she is his and she will have him there for as long as she wants. And she doesn't think she'll get sick of his sharp smiles and childlike laughter anytime soon. Not when they have become her definition of home.

Oh god. She is so far gone, so really what else can she do? White paint was just going to have to become a necessity at this point.

Regardless, there is no way she could afford to renovate the wooden floors of the hallway and still pay her rent. And knowing her shrewd landlady, she might just take advantage of the situation and have the blond renovate the entire hall.

And then still put her out at the end of the month.

Nope. There was no way Lucy was going to let that happen.

"You just caught me off guard is all, ma'am."

"I did, did I?" She chuckled. "I would have thought it would take a lot more than that to unnerve a Fairy Tail wizard."

"It usually does. But I've just been out of sorts recently." Lucy rubbed her forearm nervously." I think I'm just tired, ma'am."

"I don't doubt it, dear." Something akin to a grin spreads across the old lady's face. "If my boyfriend looked like that I'm sure I'd be tired too."

"Whaa?" Lucy nearly chokes. "No, ma'am. I promise it is n―"

"Not what I think?" The landlady interrupts, making a dismissive gesture. "You thought I wouldn't notice that the walking fire hazard entered your apartment nearly three weeks ago and still hasn't left?" She sighs." And didn't I tell you to call me Martha?"

Half-hearted denials attempt to make it out of her suddenly slack jaw, but the wall of embarrassment that has planted itself firmly in Lucy's throat blocks them and anything resembling an intelligent response. She tries to come up with a coherent response to her landlady's blunt statement―Miss Martha, she corrects herself, no need to keep the relationship professional when the scary old lady admits to knowing intimate details of your love life―but her mind goes completely blank and confusing half sentences are the most that she can manage. And She is vaguely aware that the nonsensical spurts of noise escaping her lips no doubt make her look absolutely insane to her landlady.

Oh god.

Not only to her landlady but her neighbors, who have undoubtedly heard the thud of the package she dropped and are now watching the scene unfold with greedy eyes from the safety of the peepholes on their doors. And she is sure her wide eyed shock and lack of makeup is not making her look any less crazy to her already gossip hungry neighbors. Oh god. If the embarrassment from Martha's words doesn't send her to an early grave then the rumors that will most likely spread―she can actually hear the snorts of laughter coming from apartment 3A―about her mental state surely will.

She avoids the landlady's eyes, choosing instead to inspect the pattern of the carpet and fidget with the golden band adorning her right index finger. The old lady just grins knowingly as a deep blush spreads across Lucy's cheeks and up the back of her neck.

Martha laughs, a sound that is hearty and rich but somehow still mocking, and tells the young wizard to relax.

It is valuable advice that Lucy ignores in favor of rambling and shaking and blushing and asking.

Why, why, why. Question after question, so quickly that her landlady has no space to answer, before Lucy going completely silent, her pretty face scrunching in confusion.

"How do you know any of this, Miss Martha?" She finally asks.

The smile that graces the landlady's face, let's Lucy know that she has clearly made a mistake.

But before she can grab her package, escape into her smoky apartment and back into the arms of her―presumably still shirtless―dragonslayer, the landlady grabs her arm and pulls her into the apartment adjacent to hers with a strength that has Lucy stumbling into the living room in mere moments. Martha plops into a comfy looking leather chair and motions for Lucy to follow suit. Hesitantly, Lucy sits in the oversized comforter across from her landlady, taking in the surrounds and marveling at the decor.

It wasn't really surprising that the layout of the apartment was almost exactly like that of her own.

There were only six other apartments in her building so for them to be somewhat similar was not only to be expected, but it made perfect business sense. She had even heard her father talking to investors about the importance of having a simple layout when it came to the real estate market. Something about having a floor plan that was suitable for many different types of people and the various outrageously expensive pieces of decor they may wish to bring, as not to limit the clientele base. It allowed the buyer to envision the place as their own even before the sale was finalized. Granted, Jude Heartfillia had been talking about renting a few of the overpriced penthouse suites he owned around Fiore, but Lucy was sure the sentiment could be applied to the―somewhat more reasonable―apartment market in Magnolia.

But what captured Lucy's attention was the simple elegance of the room.

The white walls were adorned with nothing but black photo frames filled with pictures of people of various ages laughing and smiling, with a slender purple-haired girl―then teenager, young woman, adult, and finally landlady― the only constant amongst the numerous faces. Other than the leather chair, cream comforter, and glass coffee table there was very little furniture in Miss Martha's living room. The entire room was so clean―almost clinical―and monochrome that Lucy had trouble imagining her colorful landlady actually living in it. It looked more like a showroom, from the copies of Sorcerer's Weekly spread in a perfect arch across the table to the straight line up of vases at the base of a lacrima powered fireplace.

It was all meticulously placed.

The only signs of her landlady's presence at all was the expensive looking, if not slightly tacky, fur rug draped across the floor of the room and a large decorative black candle stand covered in golden etching that took up a quarter of her windowpane.

The lower body of the stand was covered in golden lines, thin and thick, interweaving and spreading across the black body like a carefully spun web. And covering the body of each individual candle holder were tiny stars, golden and plump, placed to replicate some constitutions that she recognizes.

Aquarius. Cancer. Leo.

Lucy found herself staring at it.

The rough edges and odd indents where she could tell an inexperienced blacksmith―or maybe an overzealous artist―had worked did not detract from its beauty. On the contrary, it gave the candle stand a quaintness that no doubt came from the workman's determination and…love. She was sure of it. This had been a piece forged from the passion of someone's love. In fact, even unlit, as the candle was, a warmth radiated from the unusual piece. It buzzed in the air, subtle and all encompassing. Like magic. And, Lucy found herself thinking, it was strangely familiar. Mostly because it seemed to swirl and commune around her landlady, mixing with her natural vibrancy so closely that Lucy was sure that the old lady couldn't even feel the difference anymore.

But there was also something else.

Something special that had her skin warming and a shiver running down her spine.

It really was beautiful.

"I should have known that idiot wouldn't fill you in on all the details."

Lucy turns from the candle stand to face her landlady. She drops eye contact as quickly as she managed to establish it when she sees the mirth playing in her landlady's blue eyes.

"You mean Natsu?"

"Yeah. The flame thrower." Martha sighs, pulling her glasses off her face and wiping them with the hem of her purple blouse. "No wonder you've been walking around here trying to be all…what is the word? Inconspicuous."

"Trying?!" Lucy squeaks.

Martha ignores her.

"For all the headaches it caused me, it was probably less noticeable when you were sneaking him in through your window." Martha says unapologetically. "If you wanted to keep 'it' hidden then it was probably a bad idea for him to use the front door. Not that I blame you for trying. It was probably difficult seeing as that oaf doesn't seem to know the definition of the word 'discreet'. But he's all about those antonyms, isn't he?" She laughs and Lucy begins to welcome the idea of dying here on this comfy little comforter. "In fact, can you tell him to stop slamming it every time he leaves? I swear he does it just to spite me." At the very least she would leave behind a beautiful corpse. "Well, at least he's stopped climbing through your window like some kind of pervert."

Lucy's seemingly permanent blush deepens to a dark rouge and all she can say is…

"Y-you knew about that?"

"Knew about it? The whole freaking town knew about it!" Martha exclaimed, shaking her head before casting an accusatory glance at her blond tenant." I found out a couple years ago. No thanks to you."

Lucy's gaze drops to the floor as shame spreads from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her landlady chuckles, a sound colored with nostalgia.

"In fact, that's how this whole mess started in the first place."

There it was again.

It seemed today her landlady was full of nothing but embarrassing one liners and confusing vagueness. But at this point―it really doesn't surprise her. Her whole day has been filled with nothing but strange encounter after strange encounter and quite frankly she is beginning to grow tired of the emotional roller-coaster her boyfriend, friends and landlady have decide to take her on.

She'd woken up to the smell of smoke, only to discover that for whatever reason Natsu had decided that today was the day he would try to burn down her apartment.

There he'd stood shirtless―and although she had savored a glance at his toned torso, for once it hadn't been enough to make the blond forget about her soot covered kitchen or the incessant bleeping of the fire alarm―and downright giddy in the middle of his disaster. He'd been spewing some nonsense about "Happy Anniversary!" and "I wanted to make you breakfast, Luce!" and "You forgot? And you call me a scatterbrain." while she had struggled not to cough up her entire respiratory system. It had taken everything Lucy had not to throttle him on the spot. Instead she'd simply shifted through the piles of clothing decorating her living room floor―courtesy of a rather heated session with the idiot currently standing in her doorway― before fishing her wallet from the back pocket of yesterday's jeans. Lucy had then slide on her shoes and informing her boyfriend that as the only responsible adult in the room she had to run to the market and buy some more white paint to cover the new stains adorning her once pristine walls. And with one foot out the door she had ordered that he wait in her room and for god's sake, please don't move till I get back.

It had only gotten weirder when she ran into Erza and Grey, who both seemed surprised that she was carrying a pint of white paint back to her apartment instead of being in her apartment. (She had found their sudden interest in that small detail rather odd, but considering the hectic start to her morning, she had deliberately ignored it.) And when she'd informed them about Natsu's kitchen disaster they had seemed almost sympathetic…for him. Erza had been unable to meet her eye and she swore on Mavis that she had even heard Grey mutter "Poor pathetic flame brain. Should have just told her…".

Which was unquestionably weird.

And now she's basically been kidnapped by her―strangely knowledgeable―landlady.

And honestly, she thinks that she has put up with enough foolishness for one day.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about. "The celestial wizard says, placing a slender hand on the arm of the couch and readying herself for a hasty exit. "And I have a lot of things I have to do today, ma'am," her landlady clears her throat, "Miss Martha. So if that's all you wanted to talk about, I'll be going."

"Well, if that's what you want to do. I'm not going to stop you." Lucy nods politely, rising from the low couch and moving towards the door. But just as she's about to turn the knob―"I just thought you'd want the whole story."

Lucy pauses and is one hundred percent sure she will regret asking this later but…

"Story? What story?"

"What else?" Martha replied, peeking at Lucy from the top of her glasses with a smirk disturbingly similar to a certain fire dragonslayer. "The story of how I saved my reputation as a reliable and upstanding landlady…" Lucy twists the doorknob. "…and somehow managed to get you and your dragonslayer together at the same time."

Lucy's grip on the door slackens before her arm falls back down to her side.

"What?"

"If you want the whole story, dearie, you are going to want to sit down." Martha says. "Trust me."

Lucy gulps.

When Lucy discovers just how much her landlady knows about her private life, she is visibly uncomfortable. But when she discovers the extent to which her landlady has been involved in her love life, she very nearly dies.

"Hey. Go into the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine while you're up."

"Okay, Miss Martha, but may I ask why?"

"Just trust me, dear. We're going to need it for the conversation we're about to have."

"Just what kind of conversation is this?!"

"One that I don't want to have sober."

I'd love to know what you think!

(next chapter will probably be very soon because it's already written and i have zero self control)