A/N: FT + genderfluid. Genderfluid character uses he/him pronouns even when presenting as other genders.

Sequel to "Sometimes."

Old Times

Sting watched Rogue inspect himself in the mirror.

"You look…dapper," he said, blinking a few times. Rogue wore a vest over a button-down and wingtips that shone. This was new. And hot.

"Nice, huh?" Rogue asked, smiling—but there was a nervousness around his eyes.

"Yeah." Sting swallowed. His brain caught up and he heard the anxiety in Rogue's voice and quickly realized he needed to carry the tide of positivity forward. "I'm going to have to fight off all the gents and ladies and gentlepersons. That's not fair."

Swiping a hand through his hair, Rogue beamed. Actually beamed.

"Shall we?" He held out his hand and Sting took it in a daze, letting Rogue draw him to the door.

The night's festivities were shiny and rich. Sting had been to enough of these Grand Magic Games celebrations now to be used to it, but the youngest guildmembers were all awe and silly behavior. Many had never been to the capitol before this week, let alone the palace.

Though surrounded by all this magnificence, all Sting could focus on was his partner. He hadn't seen Rogue like this in a while. Forsaking androgynous looks for something decidedly masculine. He still looked queer as fuck: you couldn't take the queer out of Rogue, who always handled himself like no one else Sting had ever known. But still, he looked manly tonight. Sting had forgotten he could look just as hot like this.

When enough time had passed that it wouldn't make Sting look like an eager old fool (even though he was one), he headed across the room to grab his partner for a dance.

A royal guard chose that moment to come to him and tell him two of his guildmembers had been caught trying to spike guildmasters' drinks with mushroom tincture.

Sting sighed deeply. That explained Goldmine's overlarge choice of hat…

It was Minerva's daughter and her girlfriend, of course, a.k.a. Double Trouble. After taking away their extract of exotic mushroom, the flask that they were too young to be drinking, and several other contraband, Sting let them go without a dressing down: the two had helped Sabertooth beat Fairy Tail out for first place this year. Sting's tally against Natsu was slowly catching up.

Now he could go find Rogue.

He identified his handsome, distinguished-looking partner laughing with Yukino and Orga about something. Gone completely silver by thirty, Rogue's scent had slowly begun changing—mellower, more buttery, like summer leaves turning to autumn. Sting knew dragons' scents changed as they aged, and he quite liked it.

"You smell tasty," he whispered while he was still a dozen steps away.

Rogue whipped around blushing.

"What?" Yukino and Orga asked, watching Sting walk up.

Yukino shook her head.

"It's like you two are psychically linked."

Rogue, meanwhile, gave him a pleased glare.

"Are you three making the lonely hearts' club?" Sting asked, grinning at his own joke—Yukino and Orga were some of the only people he knew who legally married their partners, official kingdom paper and everything. Sting hadn't known people still did that.

"We were told our daughters got in a bit of trouble," Yukino admitted.

"More than a bit," Sting snorted. "They tried to make all the guildmasters sprout shrooms."

"They're just having a good time…" Orga winced. "This is my least favorite part of parenting."

"So you sent your husband to do the dirty work?" Sting guessed with a laugh.

"The pair volunteered," Yukino protested.

So Minerva and Rufus would tell the girls off. Good. Those two could scare the hell out of a demon. They could maybe, just possibly, slough off some of the mischief their daughters oozed from every pore. Or at least give him fifteen uninterrupted minutes to have his Rogue.

"Did you come over here for a reason, or did you just miss me?" Rogue asked, smile tipping up the side of his mouth.

Though flushing pink, Sting smiled back. Two could play at this.

Bowing absurdly low, he asked, "Would you honor me with a dance?"

"Holy gods," Rogue mock-whispered to Yukino, "my guildmaster is flirting with me. This can't be legal."

Yukino tried to look conspiratorial, but failed for laughing too hard.

"He's cougar-baiting you," Orga put in.

"I know, right?" Rogue shook his head. "I look twice his age."

"You do not, Cheney-san," Sting said. "Now get over here."

Rogue let Sting grab his hand and pull him out to dance.

Rogue was a good dancer—not something Sting had anticipated the first time they danced together. Many, many years ago—where Sting had sprung a hard-on because of how fucking delicious Rogue looked when he moved, and had promptly run off mortified.

He'd found Rogue later the evening looking like the saddest puppy ever: like someone had given him a plate of his favorite food and then taken it away again. Though still embarrassed, seeing Rogue like that made Sting feel guilty enough he walked right over and kissed him without explanation. Rogue first deepened the kiss, grabbing Sting around the waist and making his efforts at calming things down in his pants worthless, then shouted at him for being confusing.

Thus their relationship began.

As they spun, Rogue leaned in, cheek to cheek, and murmured, "Whatcha thinking?"

Sting just smiled, his partner smiling back.

"I'm proud of you," Rogue said. "By the way. In case I haven't said it enough."

"Thanks." Sting squeezed his hand. "You look really good. By the way. In case I haven't said it enough."

"Har har." Brown cheeks darkening with a flush, Rogue bit his lip.

"I haven't seen you look so…" Sting nodded vaguely at him. "Not for a while."

"Yeah."

Rogue worried his lip with a fang.

"It's not because of being here, is it?" Sting asked. "Not…for appearances or anything?"

After a startled blink, Rogue burst out laughing, nearly treading on someone's foot.

"Not for appearances," he chuckled. "Really, it's the opposite."

Sting's brow bent as he pondered this.

"It's hard to be masculine?"

Rogue nodded.

"People make assumptions. For some reason, folks think genderfluid means gender-non-conforming. I don't always like showing my masculine side in large crowds. You know how people are."

Rogue's resignation twisted Sting's gut. It was disgusting, painful—that people were okay with Rogue 'acting' like a woman, because he 'wasn't one,' but got confused when he presented as a man, because in their minds some deep part of him supposedly was. Like they thought of him as a man playing at being something else; when he 'stopped playing,' they got confused.

"Who's said that shit?" Sting asked, glaring around. "I'll their heads off—"

"Sting." Rogue grabbed his shoulders. "Tonight's about fun, okay? Celebrating. You led us to another victory over Fairy Tail—we're four to seven now. That's awesome. Let it go. Besides," Rogue's roguish smile twitched back into place, "I'm being me, aren't I? I'm not scared of folks. And nobody's said anything where I could hear."

This got Sting to laugh. Rogue had even better hearing than he did.

"You win. But if you ever feel…hindered, let me know and I will kick some ass. It's not just about you. The teen who joined last month—they're fluid too."

"We've had some talks," Rogue nodded. "I gave them my old suspenders for tonight; they were going for a boi-lady look and needed help."

Sting drew him closer. "You're awesome."

"Guildmaster," Rogue gasped, "are you coming onto me?"

"You bet your little tight-pants ass."

"This ass is worth too much for me to bet with."

"No kidding. Those slacks are criminal." An idea made Sting squeeze Rogue's waist, jittery. "Want to make out in an empty corridor?"

"I don't know…" Rogue bit his lip again. It was so. Incredibly. Tempting. "Anyone who sees us might think I'm taking advantage of a minor."

Sting rolled his eyes.

"Serious. You could pass for twenty-two."

"You're just trying to get into my pants."

A grin split Rogue's face. "Is it working?"

Sting spun and maneuvered them off the dance floor, thrusting Rogue toward an open doorway. As soon as they were in shadow, Sting pinched his ass.

Yelping, Rogue muttered, "Definitely an immature twenty-two-year-old."

"I have a right to be impatient," Sting said. "With Minerva Junior running loose, someone could interrupt any minute to tell me she's burned down half the palace. Or half the capitol."

Chuckling, Rogue kissed him.

"You know," he murmured, mouthing down Sting's neck, "if we scald the guards' eyeballs, they won't be so quick to come looking for you."

"Oh gods," Sting said. "If you keep flirting with me like this, I will do anything you say."

A/N: Flirty Rogue is sexy af.