Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima.

Warnings: Harsh language. Sexual content. Mature themes. Mature audiences only, please.

Guilty

"Do you really think Master is serious?"

"Did you see the damage done on Luwin Street?

"Where are you going to go, another guild?"

"Well… I have to work, so yeah, maybe."

Those were just a few of the conversations Gray overheard while sitting in the Thorn and Thistle, one of Magnolia's seediest, albeit most popular bars. Usually, he'd give his money to Fairy Tail's bar, but with the guild both destroyed and disbanded, this would do.

Three days had passed since Tartarus' defeat, all of which were spent mostly drunk, first in celebration, then in mourning.

Juvia wasn't the only one that wouldn't stop crying, but she was the one that affected him the most. Silver. Silver. Silver. Gray-sama. That's all he heard. Every time he looked at her, or even thought of her, Gray couldn't shake the sick feeling in his chest. He thought he should thank her for what she did, but he couldn't quite dismiss that small spur of bitterness. Yes, Silver had been dead. Yes, he'd been resurrected. It was still his father, though. There was no changing that. Days before, standing there, facing down his old man, Gray allowed himself to think something dangerous: he could have back what was taken from him so long ago. It was a childish thought but debilitating in its purity.

And then Silver was just… gone.

Hotness pressed at his eyes. Don't. He thought he was over the death of his family. How wrong he was. The wound was all torn anew. He lifted his beer to his lips and sucked it back. The bitterness helped chase away the unwelcomed tears. He tugged his sleeve back in place when it inched up, revealing his newly acquired tattoo. Cold and black, it bit into his skin, a constant reminder. It made him crazy. And it made him sane. It gave him purpose when he felt so torn apart and lost.

Juvia appeared, shattering his thoughts as she wriggled in between he and the empty seat at his side. She was as beautiful as ever, sea-blue eyes, silken sapphire hair. Tonight she wore a dress that was less modest than any she'd worn recently, black and short, cut low so his eyes were drawn in. She wanted something from him, and he even knew what. She didn't sit, standing close as she usually did, and touched his arm. He glanced down at her hand. Her nails were freshly painted tree leaf green.

When she spoke, her lips, slicked with some clear gloss he was sure would taste like fake cherries, delivered his name in a reverent way. Always. "Gray-sama." Fucking Gray-sama. "Have—have you thought any more about coming with Juvia to the north?"

He looked at her wide, dark eyes, at her full mouth where she carried all of her guilt, and changed the answer he'd been chewing on for the last six hours. "I don't know, Juvia. I'm still—I'm still thinking about it."

Juvia bit her lip. "Juvia has some funds saved, but I don't know how long I'll be able to not work," she said truthfully. Before he could say anything—tell her to go on without him or whatever nonsense was going to come out of his mouth, she said, "But I'll wait for your answer, Gray-sama." For him, she'd wait until she was homeless on the streets.

Heart hurting, Gray said, "Just—give me a day. I want to see his grave again."

"Oh," Juvia whispered. She didn't look away from his eyes; she wasn't a coward. "Would you like me to come with you?"

"No," Gray said too fast.

Juvia looked like he'd slapped her. The ice mage thought it'd be kinder if he had; it would have been a sharp sting that lasted for a few minutes, then it, and the mark it left behind, would fade. Words, intentionally hurtful or not… they stuck around for a long, long time.

She regrouped. "Alright, Gray-sama. Do you want to share a plate of—"

"I actually want to be alone, Juvia, if you don't mind." He said it as kindly as he could; it was still abrupt and harsh.

Juvia wilted. "Okay." To her credit, her legs only trembled a little as she put the exit in her sights. On her way out, moving through a myriad of bodies—people celebrating the eradication of an evil so terrible it practically flattened every inch of their town—she passed Lucy Heartfilia.

"Hey, Juvia." Lucy wasn't her usual chipper self.

"Hello, Lucy." Juvia considered asking her what was wrong, but in the end she was too selfish. She moved past the blonde. At the exit she took one last look over her shoulder and saw Lucy pull up a seat next to Gray. She waited for a breath—to punish herself, maybe—he didn't send her away.

Just go.

Rose and moonflower. Lucy's perfume let Gray know she was there well before he deigned to lift himself out of his beer glass and look at her. It had been days since he'd seen her and she looked a little worse for it. Bruises bloomed beneath her darkly lashed eyes, worry settled in at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey."

"I just ran into Juvia," Lucy hedged.

Gray grunted.

"Did you tell her?"

He blew out a breath and looked in Juvia's direction. She was already gone. He wanted to tell Lucy the truth, but admitting he was a coward was hard. Nothing good would come out of lying about this, though. Shamefaced, he admitted, "Not yet."

Lucy rubbed his back reassuringly. "It's hard, I know. She'll be hurt, but…"

"But at least she'll know, right?" Gray asked facetiously.

"Yeah," Lucy agreed.

"Useless." What good was it hurting someone?

"Hey, don't knock it, that's more of a courtesy then I got."

"Huh?" Gray asked.

Lucy sighed and took out a crumpled note from her pocket. "I found this in my apartment."

Gray took it from her and read it three times. "Really?"

"Apparently." Her eyes fluttered, trying to get rid of the tears that made them glossy. She was only half successful.

Gray ignored them, not wanting to embarrass her. "I can't believe he'd just leave. He didn't say anything to you at all?"

Lucy gave him a bland look. Her cheeks were dry; the tip of her nose was red. It wasn't the first time she'd shed tears over that note.

"Of course not," Gray said for her. "What an idiot." The bartender strolled by. "Hey!" Gray called. "Another two here."

While they waited, Lucy propped her chin on her hand and asked bluntly, "Do you think I suck?"

"What?"

"Do you think he didn't want to take me because I suck?" Lucy said again.

The bartender appeared with their drinks. "You better just keep those coming," Gray told him.

"Ugh," Lucy complained and grabbed the beer. "That means yes." She tipped it into her mouth. It was bitter and strong and made her shiver.

"That actually means neither of us are drunk enough yet," Gray clarified. Not even close.

It was well past midnight when Gray's wallet decided he was done. "I'm going to call it a night, Lucy."

The blonde lifted her head from her palms. Her eyes were glossy, but not with tears this time, her cheeks pink like snapdragons. She weaved slightly just sitting there. "A night?"

"I'm broke," he admitted, "and it's getting late."

"Oh."

Not wanting to leave her there, Gray said, "Come on, I'll walk you home."

Lucy opened her mouth and "Okay," tumbled out. Gray stood, swaying, and grabbed her arm, half to stabilize himself, half to pull her up. She was halfway out of her seat when he realized that if he was drunk, she was trashed. Who am I kidding, he wondered, we both are. Taking her by the hip he angled her towards the exit and moved through the bodies. Mirajane waved to them on the way by, and Cana.

"Cannnnna!" Lucy's voice was shrill and full of drunk-induced excitement.

"Hey, Lucy, come have a few!" Cana chirped.

Lucy tried to go to them. Gray kept her firmly at his side. "If you start drinking with them you're going to be dead in the morning."

Lucy pouted but fell back into step with him. "I guess maybe you're right." Cana called something that sounded like, "Party pooper." That was fine; not everyone could drink three barrels a night like she did.

Two men stepped out of the way so Gray and Lucy could exit the bar. The night air held a bitter chill that the ice mage enjoyed. Lucy shivered; he wasn't of any help to her, not really, his skin as cool as the air. "You want my jacket?"

Lucy nibbled her lip. "I'm okay."

Gray was already taking it off, though. "I don't need it." He draped it around her shoulders and came back to her waist, pulling her in tighter than he'd intended. She didn't fuss and he didn't think about it.

"Is it because of Silver?" Lucy asked suddenly.

"What?" Gray returned after a moment.

"Is it because of Silver that you don't want to travel with her," she clarified.

Gray sighed. "I'm too drunk for this conversation."

"You'll never answer me when you're sober."

That much was true. "It's… everything, I guess. I don't know. Juvia is sweet, but…"

"She loves you."

"Yeah. Too much, you know?" Once he started, he couldn't stop. "Everyday she builds me up to be this awesome fucking person. And I'm not. I'm sick of living under that expectation. I can't—I can't be as good as she wants me to be."

"You are good, Gray," Lucy rebuked.

He shook his head so hard he got dizzy. "If you knew the things I've been thinking since my dad died again, you wouldn't be saying that."

Lucy leaned her temple against his shoulder. "You are a good person. You're just hurting right now."

Gray's fingers tightened at her waist. He wasn't so sure about either of those things. His head was such a mess—he didn't know if he should mourn Silver or not, if he should be mad at Juvia or not, if he should like the way Lucy felt here beside him or not.

He still didn't give an inch of room between them.

"Gods. Everything is so messed up," Lucy continued, oblivious to his turmoil. "Fairy Tail… do you think it'll be a permanent thing?"

"I don't know," Gray said truthfully. "Maybe." A tiny tremor rolled through Lucy's body. Too late, Gray realized that wasn't what she wanted to hear, that once more she was on the brink of tears. You suck at consoling. That much was apparent. "It's okay, Lucy. Things are changing, but—"

Lucy waited for him to keep going. He didn't, not knowing what else to say. She didn't know, either.

Gray guided them out of the alley beside Lucy's apartment. Untangling his arm from around her waist was like jumping into cold water. The warmth of her body quickly dissipated in the early summer night. "Got your keys?"

"Yeah." Lucy went rooting through her pockets, finding first her celestial ones. That wasn't going to work. She went digging again and came out with a silver one. It took three failed tries then Gray stealing the key out of her hand to get the door open. It was that ineptitude that made him decide to hang on to her keys and come upstairs with her.

That and, "Can I use your washroom?" Somehow he didn't think Magnolia wanted him pissing in the streets, even if the town was wrecked.

"Yeah," Lucy replied.

Inside the stairwell smelled like floor cleaner and old lady. Their feet were loud on the hollow steps. Lucy tried to be quiet but not all that hard. At apartment twenty-three, Gray found the appropriate key and opened the door. Inside was filthier than usual, with dishes piled up in the sink, clothes on the couch, dust bunnies in the corners. He didn't judge her. Fighting off an evil guild then having your life turned upside down didn't leave much room for domestic chores.

Lucy swayed to the couch and shucked off Gray's jacket, then her own. Lastly, she kicked off her sandals, almost hitting Gray in the process.

"Hey," he complained.

"Whoops." She snorted, jovial again. For Lucy, being drunk was an emotional pendulum.

Gray gave her a dry look and took off his own shoes in a more civil manner. "I'll just be a sec." He stumbled across the room into the bathroom. This space was at least cleaner, with bright, clean towels, a streak-less mirror, and a spotless white tile floor. The air smelled of some kind of lemon-y thing. Nice. Girly. The only evidence that she'd been in there at all earlier that evening was a tube of concealer she left on the bathroom sink.

Gray did his business, washed his hands, and exited again to find that Lucy wasn't where he left her. She had changed, slithered into a forest green strappy nighty. Now she sat on her bed, not at all trying to look sexy but definitely succeeding with her hair in a low, messy bun, legs crossed and chin resting in her hand like she was just bored.

Or sad. The pendulum had swung again. In her opposite hand was that damned note. There was no doubt in the ice mage's mind that she'd been reading it again.

Lucy noticed he re-entered the room. Her dark eyes lifted to study him. "Do you think it's because—"

"No," Gray interjected before she could continue.

Lucy's lips curled into a displeased frown. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Do I think he left because you're not good enough? The answer is no." It wasn't the first time she'd asked that night.

Lucy bit her cheek. "Sorry, Gray, I've been obsessing."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Everyone is all over the place right now." Especially me. That brought on a whole new layer of stress.

Lucy rose and began to pace. "I don't even know what I'm going to do. Gods. What about work? Magnolia is destroyed—no one is going to be hiring for the next while. No way."

"There's Hargeon or Crocus," Gray offered. His voice sounded as vague as he felt watching Lucy pace like a caged animal. Her nighty kept riding up with each step, her breasts swayed gently. Stop. Stop looking. It was easier when Lucy stopped and faced him. Sort of. Now he could see the way the silk clung to her body, the hard buds of her nipples against the thin material. He kept his eyes trained on her face.

"I—I don't know anyone there." Her chin trembled; a stray tear leaked out over her dark, dark lashes. She swiped it away clumsily.

Without the noise of the Thistle all around them, there was no ignoring her melancholy. "Hey—" Gray took a step towards her, uncertain.

Lucy dropped her hand and clutched the hem of her nighty until her knuckles were white. "What if I can't do anything—what if the only reason I was getting hired was because I was coat tailing off you guys?"

"You weren't, Lucy, you're fantastic." He felt stupid as soon as he said the words.

And it didn't help anything, Lucy's chin still trembled. "I don't know—no one ever hires us and says, 'I want to meet Lucy Heartfilia.' It's always, 'Erza Scarlet,' or 'Natsu Dragneel,' 'Gray Full—'"

Gray let his uncertainty go and did what he thought was right, stepping in close and gathering her in for a hug so tight, he crushed the air from her lungs so his name came out of her mouth in a vague whoosh. He breathed her in. Alcohol and rose and moonflower perfume. "You'll find work because you're a good mage. Everything will be fine."

"Then why did Natsu—"

When she spoke her lips tickled his neck. Gray did his best to ignore that. And her body soft against his. And her hands curling around behind his back to clasp his shoulders. Focus. "Natsu left because he's an idiot."

In a voice muffled against his shoulder, Lucy said, "You always think he's an idiot."

"Because he is," Gray said pointedly. Lucy let out a halting breath. He held her tighter. They stayed like that for long seconds. She was so warm when he was so cold. With so much of this to think about, his mind didn't wander to his burning devil slayer's mark or the knot of dread that hadn't unravelled itself since he put his father in the ground. "I wouldn't leave you behind. I would want to stay with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Lucy."

Her chest fluttered as she sucked in a wavering breath. Gray felt everything, they were so close together. It was there, with his cock stiffening between his legs and Lucy's breath sneaking down his neck that he realized there was one variable he didn't consider: Juvia flitted through his mind. (Gray-sama) and guilt. He cleared his throat and tried to ease back. "Listen, I should—" get going.

Lucy turned her head just slightly and brushed his neck in a light kiss. At first, Gray thought he imagined it, but then Lucy's tongue slipped out from between her lips and drew a small circle just over his jugular. That one motion paralyzed him. All he could think about was the silky sensation, the chills running over his skin, the hollow ache he didn't feel. Do something. Don't. "Lucy—" Saying her name was the best he had.

She stopped, her breath breaking over his skin as she panted unevenly. Finally, she leaned back and met his eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing, Gray." She looked ashamed, her cheeks and neck pink. "Sorry. I—"

I don't know either. But he longed for the distraction it offered. His heart jogged. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over hers, silencing her. Her response was slow, but when she finally did return the kiss it came with clasping fingers, harried breaths. He bit her lip and she whispered his name. With it came no 'sama.' It was perfect in every way. Perfect escape, perfect torture. Guilt was the lover he couldn't deny.

Using his tongue, he prodded at her lips. She opened for him, letting him taste the beer she'd drank earlier. The crinkling in his ear told him she still held that note. It was against his skin; through that and his shirt, he felt how sweaty her palms were and knew that when she went back to read it tomorrow morning—and she would, because she couldn't deny guilt either—she'd barely be able to make out the words, the pen would be too smeared. It was probably for the best, Gray thought, who wanted to read Natsu's flippant, "We're going training, Luce, see ya in a year!' again and again?

He tightened his hands around her waist, pulling her in closer. Only when there was not a breath of space between them did he allow his hands to rove over her body, up, up, across her ribs, lingering at the sides of her breasts. Her elevated breathing and slight moan let him know she wanted it. He moved further north and started pulling at the straps of her nighty, struggling all the while.

He took his mouth away from hers to whisper, "Take it off." His voice was rough, thick with alcohol.

Without hesitation, Lucy wriggled her hands between their bodies and grabbed the hem of her nightgown. Gray released her long enough to let her pull it up and over her head. Her skin was so clear it was like quartz, so soft it was like silk. Curvy and giving. He squeezed her behind, the dip in her waist, cupped and lifted her heavy breasts. Guilt eased. She undid his pants with clumsy fingers, then dipped inside and grabbed his erection. His integrity disappeared entirely. For the moment.

On his side behind Lucy, Gray stared at the girl's golden locks ignited in moonlight. He wanted to touch them and he didn't. Remaining immobile, he closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would offer some clarity. There was no rest to be had. He waited like that for long minutes until he realized how futile it was. His eyes came open again, allowing him to study Lucy's sleeping form. She looked peaceful there, like everything could be alright. Then why do you feel more fucked up than before? Licking his lips brought her taste back to him, sweet and a little salty because more than one tear escaped the girl's iron hold. Maybe peace was a façade she wore. Gray searched again for his own and found himself wanting.

She didn't move when he finally eased out of her body, soft once more, nor did she budge when he climbed off her gently groaning bed. He grabbed his pants and his shirt, cross flashing in the pale moonlight. The metal felt cold when he straightened and it laid against his skin again. He did everything in his power to remain silent; he needn't worry; Lucy was fast asleep. Dressed, he heard the clock toll four in the morning. The sun would be rising soon.

He found Juvia exactly where he thought she'd be, sitting on the bed in their room in the shitty motel they'd rented while they decided what they were going to do. When he opened the door she didn't startle, just blinked at him by the light of the lamp, her blue tresses gleaming like ocean water.

"Gray-sama. You came back."

Her voice punched clear through him. Crossing the room, he touched her chin and tilted her face up towards the ceiling. Her eyes were wide and guileless, as damp as her cheeks were. She was holding her breath, waiting, waiting. Always waiting for him. Juvia, the girl that loved him too much. He licked his lips and still tasted Lucy. He wondered if Juvia would, too. He kissed her mouth. If she knew there was another's on his even an hour before, she didn't say a word. Maybe she couldn't.

When he broke away he said, "Let's go somewhere far." As if distance would bury his ineptitude.

The keys he'd forgotten to give back to Lucy hit his leg with every step. He didn't move them or throw them out like he considered, they built up a symphony to which every day he sang guilty. Juvia, his very own Persephone, held his hand tight.

A/N:

This is acting as a prologue to my story Bred-In-The-Bone.

Thank you for reading!