To the Anon that requested this.

Side note: I... don't really remember how Natsu feels about talking about Igneel. But for the sake of this, let's pretend he's neutral. (:


They lay in a clearing with itchy grass against their skin and the moonlight making their eyes glow.

Lucy stares up at the stars and smiles, mind subconsciously retelling every single myth and legend and story she knew; every star has a story to tell. Secrets of a lifetime, answers to unresolved mysteries—they know it all and they laugh down at them, loving the struggle and the fact that they are all so human and petty.

And it's stupid, but that's what Lucy loves the most of the stars.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a fraction of a second. Her limbs are still sore and her skin glistens with the sheen of sweat; their job hadn't been hard but, well, she was partners with Natsu and even a simple job of finding a needle in a haystack without disturbing the haystack would be difficult. It's worse when Gray and Erza go on their own mission, leaving Lucy alone to deal with Natsu and his destructive nature.

(She pretends that Gray and Erza aren't as destructive because at least they had the brain to listen when she screeched at them to stop.)

Lucy sighs again and opens her eyes.

Happy is passed out but Natsu is awake, above her (she smiles, crookedly, at the thought of the top of his head pressed against hers, messy spikes drooping down at the friction), he's unmoving but she knows he's awake. She rubs at her Fairy Tail mark as she whispers, "Hey Natsu?"


"What… was Igneel like?"

And she tenses because she isn't sure if she's treading unsteady, unclear waters and maybe she's pushed a button a little too hard and, "You don't—"

"Igneel? That ass? Well, he was huge, Luce. Big and red and huge." And she swears she hears a sharp, lopsided grin in his voice, can picture his arms going up in the air and stretching as far as they could go to describe just how enormous his adoptive father was. "He was rude and sarcastic but, I dunno, it was cool? I guess, whatever—I never really paid much mind to that because, he was a dragon."

Lucy shifts unto her stomach, hands supporting her chin and legs crossing at the ankles, swinging up and down behind her.

Her eyes find his as he mimics her movements, and the dark shade of copper are glazed as he loses himself in memories he probably thinks about without letting anyone know. And she likes how his eyebrows always rise and scrunch up, the way his forehead creases and the stubborn pink strands of his hair at the front tickle his top eyelid and his eye scrunches up in annoyance.

Perhaps they stay like that for hours. And Lucy laughs at the appropriate times, is silent when his voice hushes up and she lives his life through his words because it's better than neglectful daddies and dead mommies and she swears she finds herself somewhere, in there, in his stories. She finds herself and him, lost in his thoughts, and she holds his hand, runs her fingertip across his cheekbones and smiles.

The stars above them twinkle.