The Fiore Blind Date Service

Summary: Most of the Mages is Fiore have signed up to FiBDaS, The Fiore Blind Date Service. They are after many things, eternal love, a night of fun, or maybe even just a friend. The problem is, the matching system is a little broken and has come up with some 'interesting' results, and with the way the dates are organised, the poor mages who get caught out have to endure goodness knows what.

Authors notes – An addition to my series of crack-fic one shot collections, thanks to dragonofhellsflame who requested a theme for a chapter of Frosch's Internet adventures, however said would-be chapter is now a collection in it's own right.

This is a direct spin off from Frosch's Internet Adventures Chapter 5.

Chapter 1 – Drunk Dragon

Rogue should have known better than to let Frosch sign him up on the FiBDaS, and he really really should know better than to let Frosch chose his dates. Yes the Exceed meant well, but he was now trying to figure out how not to get chibified by the overprotective father of his date, and Gildarts Clive was proving difficult to handle.

"So why do you want to date my daughter?"

"Ok, I'll be honest, this whole thing was set up by the Fiore Blind Date Service, I had no idea who I was going to meet, and even if Cana is identifiable by her profile, it was Frosch who chose her, I did not even get to see the other options."

"Oh. . . and what are you planning to do with my daughter?"

"I have yet to see the date schedule, but I won't be doing anything inappropriate to her."

"Hmm. . ."

"DAD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LEAVE MY DATE ALONE!"

"But Cana-chan. . ."

"No buts, if I have any problems, I will tell you and then you can kill him, but not before."

"Hmph, alright, but I want a full report afterwards." Gildarts sulked before he went off somewhere,

"Geez, at this rate I'll never find someone, ah, you're my date aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Ok, inside, happy hour starts in five."

-Several hours later-

Cana was carrying a drunk Rogue back to the Sabertooth guild, grinning due to her own intoxicated state.

"Oi I think this one is yours." she called out to a confused Sting before dumping Rogue on him.

"Eh? What?"

"Tell him if he wants another shot, he needs to work on his alcohol tolerance levels."

"Uh, ok. . ." before Sting could ask any more questions, she was gone.

"Ughh. . . I don't. . . feel. . . so good."

"How much did you have to drink?"

"Lost. . . count. . . fif. . . teen. . . maybe?"