A/N: I'm doing something different this year: instead of uploading each day as its own fic it's going into a compilation. Mostly because I'm coming down with something (note to self: don't spend a day on the same sofa with three sick people, you'll get whatever they have) and am too lazy to figure out summaries.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail.


"Not to sound like Mest or anything, but when they say 'the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem', I don't think they're lying," Lucy says carefully. "Do I have to pull a Dr Phil here or…?"

Erik shoots her what would have amounted to a puppy's wounded eyes in a normal person; because his range of expressions are a lot like his apartment's shitty A/C in that there are three settings (metal slide in the middle of the summer, steel pole in the middle of the winter, and tropical rainforest), it's more 'wolf ate a whole lemon' but she digresses. He points to The Thing before him and says, "It was on sale. Being frugal in these trying times does not a problem make."

Her eyebrow rises a half inch. Really?

The corner of his mouth quirks down. Yes, really.

"Honey," Lucy says, and she figures that's the point where he should be going 'ah fuck' because pet names between them is tantamount to being Full Name Dropped. There are levels to it and she's a pinch of salt away from calling him 'schnookums' and sealing his fate in the Shadow Realm.

"Babe," he stresses. "It was lonely."

"You bought a defective Roomba because it was lonely?" The disbelief in her voice is tangible, even to her. He's the one who gives her hell and a half for buying a set of hugging bear salt-and-pepper shakers to this day because she thought they looked cute, and he spent her fruit money on a defective Roomba?

"It was isolated on a shelf, come on, have a heart," Erik says with a wave of his hand. The bored look on his face is downright insulting when combined with the shit he says next: "You're the one who bought those bear shaped-"

"Finish that sentence and we're breaking up."

"Unfortunate."

Don't murder your boyfriend, don't murder your boyfriend, that's so illegal. Think of happy things. The beach. Macbeth drop-kicking Erik into the water. The hot sand between your toes. Erik looking like a drowned rat. Watermelon juice trickling down your chin. Erik - wait, is that a knife?!

"Schnookums," Lucy says slowly, steepling her fingers together. She hopes he hears the same Kill Bill sirens she is because it's his one and only warning that, tonight, somebody is going to Die with a capital D, as in even Death is going to do a double-take when it comes for his damned-to-purgatory soul. "Why is there a knife attached to the Roomba."

Erik lights up like a goddamn hydrogen balloon set on fire. "Okay, so, it can't...clean-"

"No fucking shit."

"So I decided to give it a new job. You stick a knife on it and voila, our own home security system. Meet Stabby McStabberson," Erik says proudly. It's only then that Lucy takes note of how many of her books have been removed from the bookshelf and placed around the living room in areas that very strategically coincide with parts of the drywall that could possibly fall victim to a defective, armed Roomba. She crouches down next to the nearest book (How To Maintain Your Lawn) and pulls it back. Unsurprisingly, there's a long, thin line that's roughly the same size as the widest part of the knife duct taped to Stabby. Lucy points to it. Are you fucking serious.

He shrugs. Whoops.

"You did this with the ceiling fan last year, remember?" Lucy reminds him. "And what happened next?"

"Oh, please, Laxus was fine. A little freaked out but fine."

"He was an inch away from going to the Halloween party as the real-life Headless Horseman, no costume required."

"He's fine."

"What about three months ago with the popcorn maker?"

"That was Natsu's fault."

"The discount sofa?" At this, he winces and reaches for his back, as if to assure himself that all is well. Got 'em. It wasn't the trip to the hospital that was the highlight of that day, no, but rather having to explain to their very close friend and only medical student on rotation in the ER, Wendy, just how a spring from the sofa Erik deemed 'in need of a good home and some love' wound up lodged just above his ass-crack (the Second Asshole Incident, as it's been dubbed).

"Come on," Erik grumbles. This time, he really does look like a kicked puppy. "I'm right this time."

"You love defective things - Erik Adriá Vivas, I know exactly what you're about to say, don't you fucking dare - and while that's endearing for a guy who thinks that chipped glasses deserve to be killed over brimstone and sulfur fires-"

"They're the bane of the chemical world."

"...right, anyways, if you're going to keep doing this, at least put in the effort to fix this shit," Lucy says. "It could be a worthy hobby, you know. Fix broken shit. People do it all the time."

She realizes almost immediately after that that was the wrong thing to say because Erik gets a look on his face that says he's weighed the pros and cons and is willing to spend the night on their (brand-spanking new, leather, not in need of a good home) sofa just to see her squirm. He reaches out, pats her shoulder, and says in the most sickeningly sincere tone he can muster, "You're my full time project."

"I hate you," she says blandly, standing up and tapping the tip of the knife with her pointy heel. "Get rid of this. I'm going to go get plaster and paint for the walls."

"Oh, come on! I take it back, you're a part-time project! Lucy! Hey!"


A/N: There's probably a tonne of typos, idgaf.

Hit that mf review!

-Eien