A/N: What is an updating schedule, what is a life, I have neither. I did say this would be longer to compensate, so here, have 10K! I'm gonna be honest here, I have no idea where this came from. Maybe it was the flyer from the kinesiology students I remember seeing and debating doing. Maybe.

ALSO! For all intents and purposes, Sting and I drive the exact same car: 2013 Mercedes Benz GL450. Although mine isn't electric blue. I wish it were, though...so the thing about gas prices you'll see? Yeah, that's 100% accurate.


It was approximately 7 AM when Professor Mard Geer entered his desolate lecture hall. His first class didn't begin until 8 AM, but he preferred to be an hour early to both set up for the day and be available for any early morning stragglers with questions regarding the lesson. Ruthless and cold he may have been, but his student's grades were one of the utmost priorities in his life, ungrateful though they were.

"Mard," came a familiar sing song voice from the doorway. Mard let out a little sigh, running his hands over the angular length of his face.

"Miss Strauss, how may I be of service?"

Mirajane Strauss was a widely regarded as the campus beauty. With exotic white hair, breathtakingly blue eyes, and a luscious body to boot, not one person on campus could hold a candle to her kind personality and loving deposition. She smiled as she entered the room, donning a curve hugging black summer dress, and a sparkle in her pretty eyes that spoke of vast mischief.

For if there was one thing Mirajane Strauss was notorious for, it was her matchmaking tendencies. And when her eyes sparkled in that manner it meant no good for the receiving parties.

"Well, Mard, a little birdie on campus told me that Lucy and Sting were partners in this class on top of being roommates," Mira perched innocently on the edge of his desk, leaning forward. Mard politely kept his gaze to her eyes instead of on the healthy amount of cleavage her dress bared.

"I am certain the entire campus has known since day one, Miss Strauss, they made quite the ruckus."

"Always straight to the chase, don't you, Mard?" she sighed, and he rolled his eyes in response. "How many times must I remind you, it is Professor Geer."

"I need you to do me a favour," ignoring him, she pressed forward. "Look after Lucy and tell me what she and Sting get up to."

"Are you opposed to a relationship blossoming between them? This is a first," he leaned back in his leather chair as Mira huffed and crossed her arms under her chest. "God, no. They would make beautiful children! Blonde haired angels running around with soulful brown eyes or heavenly blue eyes for me to spoil! Oh, they would be-"

"Miss Strauss, back to the point," he reminded her, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. For all her quiet grace, Mirajane had no reservations when it came time to plot the children of her current obsession.

"You remember what happened in Lucy's last relationship," immediately, he tensed up and frowned minutely. "Are you suggesting Eucliffe may try to pull what that...thing did? Eucliffe may be an aggravating and narcissistic thorn, but I can assure you he would not stoop that low. He has a fondness for her."

"Does he?" she squealed, "Then you simply have to get them to do something together! Or at least try and get them to get into couple-y situations!"

"I refuse to interfere in their love lives, especially not with Dreyer and Cobra hassling him," Mard deadpanned, and Mira's face fell. A pout rose to her lips. "You're no fun, Mard!"

"And you try to have too much fun," he responded. Mira groaned and jumped off his desk, wheeling around. "Fine, meanie, guess I'll just have to run around setting them up..."

"I said I would not run interference, I did not say I would not inform you of their interactions," the look of glee on her face as she turned to meet his gaze was well worth the statement.

"Thank you so much! This is going to be so much fun!" Mira bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly, and he couldn't help but compare her to an over eager child. "Oh, the beautiful babies, I see them now!"

"Not with her siblings around, you won't," he said. Mira's countenance turned demonic. "They shan't be messing with my godchildren..."

A shiver ran down his back. There was a reason she was known as the demon Mirajane. The Veterinarian Major took one look at the clock before squeaking. "Oh goodness, I'm going to be late to work! Oh, this is bad I have to go."

Mard's face immediately dropped. "Miss Strauss, it is seven in the morning, should you not be at home resting or preparing for class?"

"O...oh, this is nothing! Just another part-time job!" she laughed in a hollow manner, "Need to save up and whatnot!"

"Mirajane," the use of her first name had her freezing in place as the professor approached, a concerned look in his normally blank eyes. "Are you having difficulty monetary wise?"

"No! It's just...I do have to help put Elfman and Lisanna through University," her face was to the floor, and she spoke in a quiet voice. "They do try to help, but there are three of us, and...well, tuition doesn't come cheap."

"We have student loans for this."

"And the debt that comes with it after? That's too much to handle right now, especially with what's going on back home..." she trailed off and Mard's gaze darkened. He knew all too well what was going on back home. He placed his hand against her cheek and lifted her head up, meeting her suddenly lifeless eyes.

"Mirajane, understand that I am here to help you if you require it. Please do not hesitate to ask me for help," his somber tone managed to convey what he normally couldn't, and Mira smiled brightly and hugged him. His arms hovered by his sides before he patted her back awkwardly. Affection had never been his forte.

"Thank you, Mard," she pulled back and waved, "Now remember, we must make StiCy happen!"

"StiCy?" he shook his head, "You are an oddity, Miss Strauss."

"Always!" she replied cheerfully as she made for the door. Mard paused for a moment before calling out, "Mira."

The woman turned around and was met by a heavy fabric draping around her shoulders. Mard adjusted his coat around her before nodding. "It is chilly this morning, and it wouldn't do for you to fall ill so early in the semester."

"Thank you," she said softly, blushing.

"Mira," he said again, and she looked up. His eyes were dark with worry, "Please remember what I said."

"I will," she replied. He shook his head. "Promise me."

"I promise," the lie hung heavy in the air, but neither of the two chose to address it. Instead, she walked out the door, dwarfed in his coat, and he returned to his desk and flipped open a new tab on his laptop as he pulled out his credit card. Going to the student housing page, he plugged in the student number he had memorized ages ago and sighed when he saw the bill. Rolling his shoulders, he began to type in his credit card number in the payment box.

It wouldn't be the first time he had done this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.


"Gas prices are insane!" Sting hissed, his sky blue eyes widening in terror as the number on the machine continued to climb higher and higher. Seated shotgun in the car, Rogue snorted delicately. "Your fault for owning a Mercedes, idiot. The fuel for this is different. And more expensive."

"It's okay, baby, Uncle Rogue is just jealous he doesn't own a car," Sting patted the head of his car soothingly, as if it had heard the other males words and was offended.

"I don't need a car, Sting. It's more economical if we share," Rogue said. His eyes remained fixed on the pages of the heavy text in his hands, armed with a highlighter and pen as he scribbled notes in the margins.

"Holy Mary, mother of God," Sting whistled as he looked at the final price.

"Sting, you haven't prayed since primary school, I doubt doing it now will be of any use," Rogue dodged the balled up wrapper that came flying through the window without looking up. "Missed."

"Fuck you," the blond mumbled. Sighing, he dug through the pocket of his sweatpants and extracted his ratty leather wallet, flipping it open and selecting his green credit card. He inserted it in the slot and waited impatiently for the 'transaction complete' sign to flash.

To his surprise, and horror, his card came back out and the words 'rejected' flashed instead.

"Rogue!" he shrieked, alarming the green-haired man on the other side of the machine. "Rogue, the machine broke, it said my card was rejected!"

"What?" Rogue exited the car and walked over, snatching the card from his best friend. "You probably inserted it wrong..."

The dark haired man pushed the card in again, and his eyes widened when it came out again with the same message. He pressed the card into Sting's hands and pulled out his own wallet, selecting an identical card from one of the slits in the leather, sliding it into the insert slot. This time, the 'transaction complete' sign flashed and along with the card came a receipt.

"My card works just fine..." he mumbled. "We need to get to a bank."

Sting nodded hurriedly, throwing the door shut behind him as he entered the driver's seat. Rogue entered shortly after, a scowl on his face. The book he had been reading before connected squarely with the side of the Physics Major's face.

"I fucking paid for your gas, you owe me. With interest."

"Nearly twenty years of friendship means nothing to you?"

"That was a hundred and sixty dollars, Sting, and I am a broke University student. Twenty years means nothing."


"Can I play the funeral dirge now?" Gajeel whispered, staring at his cousin out of the corner of his eye. Rogue, uncharacteristically, smacked him upside the head and continued to observe Sting.

The blond had been in a catatonic state ever since they had left the bank, so much so that Rogue had to ask Gajeel to come help carry him back to the common room. His blue eyes stared blankly at the floor, his mouth slightly ajar, and Rogue had to periodically check to ensure he was breathing he was so still.

"It's not that bad, Sting," he said comfortingly. "I'll let the gas slide, you don't owe me."

"Forty dollars," he finally whispered. "I have all of forty dollars to my name."

"You haven't have a job since the beginning of first year, no wonder your accounts are depleted," Gajeel grumbled.

Sting began sobbing in earnest, big, fat tears rolling down his face. Gajeel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back. "Dude, holy fuck, calm down."

"I-I-I'm b-br-roke!" he wailed.

"Sting?" a soft voice came from the entrance of the common room. "Are you alright?"

"Wendy!" Rogue smiled. "Come in. He's not doing too well."

"I can see that," the pretty Health Sciences student said as she crossed the threshold. Though eighteen years old, Wendy Marvell was a petite girl, with gentle, barely noticeable curves, and a slightly rounded face that spoke of baby fat. She was not to be underestimated, however, as her medical genius had garnered her a full four year scholarship, and there were rumours of an early acceptance to medical school.

"W-Wendy," Sting sniffed pitifully, "I need a job."

"Why don't you check the job listings board?" Wendy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sting's mouth dropped open, and he sputtered, "J-job listings board?"

Wendy pointed to the full bulletin board on the opposite wall. "Yeah, they're small jobs you get paid for. The kinesiology classes use it all the time to hire people to study for projects and things like that."

Sting leapt forward, squishing the bluenette to his chest tightly. She squeaked, flailing her arms as he nuzzled the top of her head affectionately. "Bless you, oh angel from above! Bless you!"

He let go of her and ran for the board, Rogue and Gajeel on his heels. Wendy fell to the ground, rubbing her back as her eyebrow lifted in confusion. "You're...welcome, I guess?"

"What in fuck was that?" Mest Gryder, a second year Criminology Major who was best friends with Wendy, asked as he held out a hand to help her up. She rose, brushing off her skirt and crossing her arms under her chest. "I actually do not want to know. Come on, I think the library is empty enough to start working on your Criminological Theories essay..."

Sting hemmed and hawed as he stared at the board, one hand rubbing his chin. The requests he saw were odd sounding to say the least. There was a bright yellow flyer from the kinesiology department asking for volunteers to come in twice a week to run on treadmills for twenty minutes and get paid twenty dollars per session for a month, a pink one from the psychology department requesting participants for an experiment (though he was staying far away from the social science requests, he knew all about the Milgram experiments), a green one from the sociology department asking for help in some sort of questionnaire type thing...nothing that piqued his interest.

"Why don't you just take the kinesiology request?" Rogue pulled at the paper. "It's easy enough."

"I dunno, man, there is something inherently wrong with fifty people watching and taking notes as you do your cardio," Sting shuddered. He could just imagine it, the people observing him in white lab coats, scribbling away furiously on their clipboards as they monitored his heart beat and breathing patterns. Would they inject things into him to see how his muscles worked? Force him into an MRI to get the images?

"You're broke, you can't be picky. This gets you, what, $160 in a month? Twenty bucks twice a week for four weeks? That's pretty fucking amazing," Gajeel looked like he was seriously considering it an option for himself.

"I work out for myself and myself alone," as an afterthought, he added, "And for the ladies. Ow! Dammit, Rogue!"

The blond scowled up at his friend, rubbing his stomach as he was doubled over.

Then he saw it.

"Model required for art class," he read aloud from the paper hidden at the bottom. "Pays...holy fucking shit."

"What?" Gajeel bent down to squint at the page, immediately gaping. "T-two thousand. This guy is paying two thousand fucking dollars for you to stand around for him to paint."

"Mine!" Sting screeched, ripping the paper and cradling it to his chest protectively. Across the room, Mirajane Strauss rolled off the sofa she had been napping on, falling to the ground with a squeak. Rogue winced, striding over to help her get back on the sofa.

"Thank you," she mumbled sleepily, drawing a heavy black coat over her shoulders and curling up again.

"You are the luckiest man on the planet," Gajeel whispered, terror in his red eyes. "You woke her up and didn't die."

Sting made sure to cross himself before he left the room.


"Oooh, this is pretty," Sting lifted a finger to touch the canvas, where swirls of white and dark blue created a night sky.

"Don't touch that!" Rogue snapped, pulling his arm behind his back in a painful lock. He dragged him away down the hall, Gajeel strolling beside him leisurely. A bright pink flyer stuck out of the side of his messenger bag, but the manic glint in his eyes prevented anybody from asking funny questions.

"But it's pretty! Pretty things gets touched!"

"Are you five?" Rogue asked. "Lucy Heartfilia is pretty, do you touch her? Oh, Christ, forget I asked, please, for the love of all that is good and holy, don't answer that, I don't wanna know."

"You think Lucy is pretty?" Sting narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

"You'd have to be pretty blind not to think so," was his only response. The Biology Major smirked suddenly. "Don't worry, I'm not crazy enough to pursue your girl."

"First off, she ain't my girl, she's her own person," at this, Gajeel shot him a surprised look, muttering under his breath, "So he can be a gentleman..."

"Second off, I'm just looking out for you, last week Dan Straight was hitting on her and Laxus fucking threw that guy halfway across campus after breaking his face," Rogue actually had to laugh at that. "That's a bit of an exaggeration."

"It wasn't!" Sting insisted. "I was there next to her! I saw it!"

"I wouldn't put it past Dreyer, man, I've seen him cave in a guy's chest cavity once," Gajeel inputted. "It was during a world championship, but still."

"Don't they have rules against that?" Rogue looked somewhat nauseated. Gajeel shrugged, and the trio continued on in silence. Well, mostly silence. Every time Sting opened his mouth, Rogue twisted his arm behind his back as a method of silencing him.

"B17, this is it," Sting grasped the handle and threw open the large doors, stepping into a room full of canvases.

Upon which were men.

Hundreds and hundreds of naked men.

Dread filling his veins, Sting glanced down at the paper held within his shaky grasp.

Must be prepared to strip down and get nude!

"The fine print," he choked, "We forgot to read the fine print!"

"Men!"

Sting screeched, wheeling around to meet eye to eye with the owner of the booming voice.

He was...small. Barely three feet tall, with a wild mane of orange hair and scruffy black stubble that dotted the area around his mouth. His face was very square, with deep lines, and his mouth was in a frown. He wore an open buttoned white shirt and matching pants, and clutched two bright pink bottles of swirling liquid.

"Men!" he repeated loudly. "I am Ichiya Vandalay Kotobuki! Who are you?"

"S-Sting Eucliffe! I'm here about the job adv-"

"My new nude model!"

Sting just about passed out when the bottle was waved beneath his nose.

"Hm...yes...your parfum is enriching. Powerful, like you. This parfum...the one of my creation pales before you," he leaned forward, pressing his nose to Sting's. The blond went cross-eyed for a moment.

"Men!" he yelled again, "You! You are perfect! This Saturday! You will report here this Saturday to model for me!"

"Too late to back out now," Gajeel muttered.

A thick sheaf of paper was thrust into the quivering Physics Major's grasp, and he nearly fell backwards from the sheer force. Ichiya was stronger than he looked.

"The guidelines! You must follow them. Have a nice day-"

Sting ran out of the room before the other man could finish.


Lucy stared at the pile of papers in front of her, and Sting squirmed.

"Look, can you help me or not?" he finally burst out. It had been an hour since his harrowing encounter with Ichiya, and he still felt like somebody had set ants crawling beneath his skin. The stench of that rancid perfume (parfum?) would haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life, he knew it.

"Professor Kotobuki is...special, I'll give you that much. He's absolutely in love with Erza."

Sting threw back his head and laughed. Ichiya was clearly both touched in the head for thinking that pursuing Erza Scarlet was a wise idea, and also a very, very, very brave man. Exhaling hugely, he stared at his pretty blonde roommate, who furrowed her brows as she flipped the page, wrinkling her nose.

"He infuses these papers with perfume, it's disgusting...anyway, I can definitely help!" she whistled as she continued on. "This guy has got a lot of guidelines! Wow, we're gonna need to go shopping..."

"Shopping?" Sting vaulted from his bed to hers, belly flopping next to her and swinging one arm around her shoulders as he peered at the page. Lucy hissed, drawing her leg away from him, and he winced apologetically. The bone bruise still gave her issues.

"Yeah, see? He wants all your tan lines covered up, so we're gonna need foundation, and you need to be using a whole new line of body soap, he wants you smelling a certain way so your 'parfum doesn't clash with the incense'..." she read off the page, her eyebrows climbing higher and higher in disbelief. "Holy crap, this guy is insane."

Sting whimpered, retrieving his arm and covering his head with both the appendages. He was doomed. Well and truly doomed. Ichiya was clearly an evil warlock who was going to use his blood in a virgin sacrifice. It explained the horrid 'parfums' that made him sick to his stomach, the body preparation for the ritual, the incense that would be used during the ritual...amongst the ten thousand things wrong with the scenario, Sting was most definitely not a virgin. Would being a not-virgin sacrifice make his untimely end more painful? Would whatever demon he was being sacrificed to be angered by his not-virginness and torture him in retribution?

"First of all, the whole 'blood of a virgin' thing refers to virginal blood, as in blood that has never been used in a ritual before, so I'm fairly sure the, ah, 'demon' will be more than satisfied. Secondly, Professor Kotobuki is not a warlock, otherwise he would have used a love potion on Erza eons ago," Lucy's dry voice rang out. Sting stared at her sheepishly. He really did need to get his godawful habit of speaking his thoughts aloud unconsciously under control, God knows what kind of secrets he might have let out otherwise.

"You're the best roommate ever," he sighed, wrapping Lucy in a tight embrace. He knew just how much his 'unbathed, disgusting, germ-ridden' self bothered her, so he took great joy in squashing her whenever possible. The plus side was he got to feel her soft, creamy skin against his and inhale her delicious strawberry and chocolate scented shampoo discretely.

"Gross! Sting, off! Ow, ow, ow, bone bruise, bone bruise-!"

"Shit! Sorry!"


"Your essays were atrocious," Professor Geer deadpanned. "My five year old niece can put together a more coherent sentence than most of you. Is spell-check not a feature your computers come equipped with? Does the concept of editing not exist for you?"

His black eyes snapped up and stared at a snickering blond in the third row. "I do not understand what you find so amusing, Mr. Enjin, yours was perhaps the worst essay I had to force myself to mark."

Zancrow Enjin, a snarky Pharmacology Student, who, despite his thuggish appearance, carried a GPA of 4.2, immediately silenced himself and slid down his seat. To his right, his best friend, a man with white and black hair named Totomaru, rolled his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

"Sit up, your posture is atrocious!" Professor Geer snapped. "I cannot believe you would have the audacity to submit an expletive-laced essay to me and expect a decent grade-"

"What the fuck is eating him out today?" Sting mumbled as he sneakily surfed the web for a decent pair of glittery shutter shades. Halloween was mere month away and Sting had decided to go as the stereotypical rave-goer. Unfortunately, daddy Skia, as he had affectionately grown up calling Rogue's father, had thrown out all of his old raving gear, leaving him scrambling online for replacements.

"I have no idea," Lucy whispered back, scowling when she caught sight of his laptop screen. "Sting, you've got a total of forty dollars in your bank and you're buying shutter shades?"

"I'm getting 2K in a week, it's all good," he waved her off, opening a new tab to see if it was possible to find a neon orange snapback without any logos on it. He knew he had one, but knowing daddy Skia it was off in a Goodwill somewhere.

"Mr Eucliffe, do you care to share with the room full of idiots just what seems to have you in a good mood?"

Sting bit back the urge to spit out something along the lines of, 'clearly it's whatever you're not getting', and instead shook his head weakly. He could deal with the snarky professor on any other day, but with his mood in a downspiral like this? His grades would follow.

"That wasn't a question, Mr Eucliffe," Professor Geer glared at him.

"It's nothing, sir, he's merely happy he has gotten a job off the boards with decent pay," Lucy interjected with a smile. Instead of rolling his eyes and continuing to berate the rest of the class, the man's cold black eyes bore a hole into the woman. "Miss Heartfilia, I didn't realize I was speaking with you, nor that you were Mr Eucliffe's mouthpiece."

Lucy flinched, avoiding his gaze, and Sting felt his hackles rising in response. Lucy wasn't the type of student to get yelled at, he could tell, nor was Professor Geer the type of person to turn on her when the two were on friendly terms. He found that he didn't like the way a look of shame crossed the blonde's face. He didn't like it at all.

"All due respect, sir, but there was no need to yell at Lucy," Sting's eyes narrowed darkly. "If something's going on in your life, that sucks, sorry to hear that, but there's no need to take it out on her or the rest of us."

At that moment, Sting witnessed something akin to confusion flash in the English Professor's eyes, but it was gone before he could give it too much attention. Instead, he procured a pile of stapled papers from his briefcase and turned back to the class with a perfectly blank face.

"Your essays. See to it that the corrections are taken seriously for your next one."

As the papers were passed up and down the rows, Lucy turned her head to the side and gave Sting a heartstoppingly beautiful smile. "Thank you," she mouthed.

All he could do was shake his head and hope he wasn't blushing.


"I need your people's advice," Gildartz bemoaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Regarding Cana."

"Oh for fucks sakes," came half the class' groan.

Sting sighed and settled back in his chair, staring at the papers from Ichiya as Gildartz went off on a tangent.

"Why do you need foundation?" Midnight asked. Sting jerked up, giving his seat mate a surprised look. He had almost forgotten the third year was next to him seeing as he had an awful tendency to pass out for the entire period.

"Uh, modeling stint," Sting said. Midnight raised one, perfectly filled in eyebrow in response, and it was then that Sting noticed the unholy amount of makeup the man wore. Filled in eyebrows, foundation atop insanely pale skin, blush to make him look less like a corpse, neatly applied dark lipstick, and, of course, the eyeliner. Midnight's eyeliner and kohl application skills were legendary on campus, and some people swore up down and sideways that they had never seen it smudge, even after rubbing it absent-mindedly.

"Where do you get your makeup from?" Sting blurted out before he could stop himself.

"...excuse me?" was the amused reply. Sting hastily corrected himself, "I mean, you wear it...obviously...your lips aren't naturally that purple, are they...? If so, maybe we should see if Wendy-"

"It's lipstick, Eucliffe. Why do you-? Oh. The modeling gig," the older male tore off a piece of paper from his notebook and scribbled down something quickly, pushing it his way. "There, that's the address. Tell anyone and I will end you."

Though not the most original threat, Sting knew that, unlike most others, Midnight really would end him. Painfully.


"Oh. My. Fucking. God," Lucy looked about ready to pass out as she entered the store. "Sting, where did you find this?"

"A friend," he replied vaguely. Though he had a feeling Midnight really wouldn't care if Lucy found out, there was never such a thing as being too careful.

Lucy took one look at the lipsticks wall and deadpanned, "Midnight."

"How did you-?"

"I have been searching for that shade of purple for four years and it's never available, yet there it is," Lucy waved at the wall. Sting gave her a concerned look. "Lucy, the wall is ten feet away and chock full of those little things, how can you tell?"

"I have a very good eye for makeup," she nodded seriously. Sting shook his head in amazement as she dug through her bag for the list. All the women in his life were insane. Batshit insane, and that included Wendy.

"First order of business! Foundation," Lucy turned to face Sting with a serious expression. "How bad are your tan lines?"

"I..." he glanced around furtively before answering. "Just on my...ass area. From swim trunks."

"Hm...alright!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a wide shelf, where Sting could see a colour gradient of various skin tones laid out before him. He raised an eyebrow and picked up one of the bottles, which fit snugly in his palm. "Lucy, this thing is fucking small. It won't cover my arm let alone most of my legs."

"You don't need to slap it on like paint, genius, you just need to even out your skin tone. Trust me, one bottle of foundation lasts me a few months," she nodded sagely. Sting rolled his eyes and replaced the tiny glass bottle, catching sight of a row of plastic that jutted out with small splotches of colour on them. He placed his finger under one, sliding higher and higher till he found his own skin tone and smiled brightly. "Hey, Lucy! This one! This is my colour!"

"No, you idiot, that just gives you a general range to look in! You always match to your jawline! Always!" she hummed as she pulled out a tester bottle and dabbed a bit on her hand before rubbing it against his jaw. She drew back with a contemplative expression on and shook her head. "Too light..."

"Just match to my skin tone?"

"You always go a shade darker!"

"You just said match to your jawline!"

"Find your jawline colour and go a shade darker!" she groaned, as if this were a widely known thing, though he supposed it was amongst makeup users. She turned again to the racks, pulling one out and repeating the process with his jaw. This time, her eyes lit up in glee. "This one! This one is it!"

Lucy paused to pull out one bottle of a different colour, nodding and placing it in their little basket. Sting's eyes drifted to the price label on the plastic dividers and screeched. "Lucy, it's fifty fucking bucks!"

"No, the one I'm buying is fifty bucks, the one you're buying is thirty."

"That's not any better!" Lucy rolled her eyes, waving a golden credit card she had procured from between her breasts. "Professor Kotobuki is letting us use his card for your supplies."

An evil glint filled Sting's eyes. If the professor-turned-warlock was letting him use his card, then he would definitely be buying top quality makeup. He was, after all, the great Sting Eucliffe. Nothing short of perfection would be touching him.

Lucy grabbed his hand and pulled him to the next aisle, where hundreds upon hundreds of little sticks lay in groups. "Eyeliner time!"

Sting groaned.


"Women," Sting announced suddenly as he dropped onto the common room sofa, "Are absolutely terrifying."

"Only took you nineteen years to notice," Rogue replied as he turned the page of his biology textbook, frowning at whatever Latin (or was biology the one with Greek names?) term had popped up. His head flew up when a gigantic black bag was plopped in front of him.

"Nearly a hundred and fifty dollars worth of cosmetics is in this bag," Sting said seriously. Across the room, Mest and Wendy both sputtered, staring at the bag. The male turned to his much shorter friend with horror in his eyes, "Wen, you don't spend that much, do you? I paid for your makeup stuff when we went to Sephora last week, it was not that high!"

Ignoring the now squabbling duo, Rogue set aside the heavy textbook and reached into the bag, sifting through the contents. His brow furrowed as he spoke aloud, "Foundation, eyeliner, white eyeliner-"

"It's for your waterline, apparently," Sting interjected, staring intently at his friend's textbook. Just what was that picture depicting? He tilted his head and squinted. From that angle, it looked rather like a throat to him...

"Right. Eyeshadow, blush, mascara?" Rogue stared at the large tube quizzically. Sting shrugged, the textbook now in his grasp. He tilted it to the side and frowned. Now it looked like a stomach. "Hey, Rogue, what is this supposed to be?"

The dark haired man pulled the book low enough that he could see and immediately snorted. "For someone who claims to be so sexually active, you have a lot of difficulty identifying the act of copulation in a picture."

Act of-?

Oh.

"They let you look at porn in class? Holy shit, maybe I should switch majors...Ow! Wendy!"


"You're terrible at this, you know?" Sting said as he leaned against the wall parallel to where Lucy was working on the leg press. The Physics Major had finally decided to keep his promise of helping her work out, and was swiftly regretting it. It wasn't that his roommate was incapable of it, no, he was just more used to the competitive nature of his sessions with Rogue rather than the slow pace she had.

"Well," Lucy grunted, pushing the weights up, "If somebody hadn't run me over with their car-"

"Bumped. Bumped you."

"We wouldn't be in this mess and I would be pressing my regular three fifty," she hissed. Sting stared at the plates, adding up the numbers. Two seventy. A full eighty pound drop.

"You need to bring your legs closer to your chest," he stated.

"My boobs are kind of preventing me from doing that," his eyes involuntarily fell to the aforementioned body part, where they were bursting against the tiny pink sports bra she wore. "And so does the bone bruise."

He stared at her leg, ignoring the urge to gawk at the appendage as it tensed deliciously, and frowned deeply when all he saw was flawless skin. "Blondie, there's no bruise. What the fuck?"

"Makeup," she stared at him oddly. "I always use makeup to cover it up so I can wear shorts and skirts, perv."

"Holy shit!" his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Makeup can do that?"

"Yeah? That's how I'm gonna be fixing your tan lines, Sting," he froze. For that to happen, she would need to strip him of all his clothing, and that meant she would...she would see his...

"You are not seeing Sting Junior!" he snarled. "No way! I'll put that shit on myself!"

Lucy laughed loudly, the action causing her breasts to bounce as she lay back. Suddenly, all Sting could imagine was her laid out beneath him, her breasts heaving in a similar manner as she breathily moaned-

He shook his head violently. Where on Earth had that come from? Sure, Lucy was hot, like Rogue had said, he'd have to have been blind to have not noticed, but she was still Lucy, his annoyingly preppy roommate with terrifying older brothers who would dice him for thinking that way.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," she rolled her eyes, and Sting sputtered. "You...you're not a virgin?"

"Why did you think I wasn't?"

"Your psycho crazy brothers and protection squad seem to be a large factor."

"Nah, it was in eleventh grade with some guy at a party. I was pretty drunk, don't remember it all too well."

Sting snorted and returned his attention to observing her clinically as she continued pushing.

"Holy crap, look at her tits," came a mumble from the corner. Though said in a very low voice, Sting's ears were very sharp.

"Damn, those are the finest set I've seen in my fucking life," Sting glared at the gaggle of first years staring openly at his friend. His hand shot out, grabbing the peg of the press and stopping it. "Off. Enough for today, you'll tax out your leg."

"Shit, I'd let her tax out my legs any day," one of the boys snickered. Sting almost growled. It was one thing for him to get leery, he wasn't about to vocalize it, but these creeps didn't even know her and all they saw was a piece of meat. He extended a hand to help her up, and regretted it quickly when one whistled quite loudly. Lucy froze, staring fixedly at the ground.

Sting grinned when he saw the looming shadow behind them.

"Oh?" Laxus tilted his head slowly. "What are we whistling at, boys?"

Lucy laughed as she and Sting left the room, the male with his arm draped casually across her shoulders, waving at Laxus, "See you around, big brother!"

The boys went bone white very fast.


"Kinana!" Sting waved at the purple haired woman, who responded in the like shyly. "Sting! How may I help you?"

"Er...you're in the drama department, right?" she flushed deeply and nodded. "M-more so I help w-with costume design and p-plays and musicals...and...stuff..."

"Right! So...I got a question for you," Kinana pointed to the seat before her, and he seated himself on the cold metal. It was a nice, sunny day on the quad and most students had relocated themselves outdoors to soak up as much heat as possible before the inevitable cold front that was to arrive in November.

"You know in movies how sometimes there will be sex scenes?" Kinana squeaked, turning redder then before, and Sting was concerned she would fall over and faint. The woman was terribly shy and, if rumour held true, practically Cobra's sister, so he would have to tread extremely carefully lest he invoke his wrath twice.

"Y-yes, why?"

"They don't actually get the actors to have sex, so how do they keep the guy from having an erection?" Kinana stared at him pensively as she twiddle her thumbs. "W-well, they'll use these little sleeves and tie the...um...you know what down to the male's thigh."

"Do you have one of those?" Sting asked eagerly. "I need one!"

Kinana squeaked and nodded. "Y-yes! B-but...why?"

"Cause Lucy-" immediately her face went dark and her green eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

Sting shivered. Apparently Kinana was just as protective of the woman as the rest. "Not that! For the modeling thing Ichiya needs me to do."

Kinana winced sympathetically. "I'll get one to you by the end of today."

"Not right now?" he pouted. "The sooner the better!"

"We're about to have lunch, Eucliffe," Dobengal said dryly as he slid in next to his girlfriend. "So the end of today."

"Ninja!" Sting screamed.

Dobengal groaned.


"I have a dick sleeve," Sting exclaimed Friday evening, waving the aforementioned object around. "See? No more awkwardness!"

Lucy hummed absent-mindedly, scrolling away on her laptop. Sting pouted and waved his hands in front of the screen. "Lucy! Stop ignoring me!"

"Are you five?" she mumbled, typing away furiously. "Go work on your...wormhole shit or whatever it is you do in Physics."

"Okay, first off, we do not discuss wormholes. Too often. Only when Gildartz wants to watch Interstellar in class. Secondly...I did wormhole metrics in first year, we're doing transversibles this year," Sting mumbled. Lucy lifted her head and gave him a small smile. "You...sometimes I forget you're actually some super intelligent Physics Major."

"It's because I'm blond, isn't it?" Sting sighed dramatically as he flopped back on his bed, his feet on the pillows.

"No, it's because you act like a five year old ninety percent of the time," Lucy rolled her pretty brown eyes and continued frowning at the screen. "Go do your English! We're starting Aeneid tomorrow and we have pre-reading work to do."

"Nah, I already read it," he tossed his worn soccer ball up in the air, catching it before it fell on his face. "Light reading when I was a kid. Daddy Skia was head over heels for English lit, it's a wonder Rogue got into biology. I mean, he was the only one who could properly dissect the frog in tenth grade, and his removal of the organs was flawless, so it was kind of expected, but-"

"What's the deal with that, anyway? Why do you call his dad 'daddy Skia'?"

Sting's movements paused and he kept a carefully blank face as he spoke, "Our mum's left us both when we were four. They were best friends who wanted to continue living like twenty one year olds, so our dad's got saddled with us. They were best friends from high school and eventually we moved into one house and calling the other uncle was weird so...it became daddy Skia and daddy Weiss."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Lucy said softly. "About your mum's. It's amazing you all lived together. Wonderful, actually."

Sting stared at her long and hard. He had heard no pity in her voice, just understanding. When most people found out about his family situation, they treated him like glass, avoiding discussion of family in general. He loathed it. He knew Rogue did, too. Lucy didn't give him a sad look and attempt to rationalize his behaviour as growing up a part of a broken home, she just looked...sympathetic. As if she knew what he was going through.

"So you heard my sob story, what's yours? Half brother with a different name, adopted brother...what's the T?"

"Nothing really special. My mum was dating Ivan Dreyer in a rebellious snit before she met dad, got pregnant, gave birth, Ivan took Laxus away soon after. Mum was stuck in an arranged marriage with dad, Ivan dropped Laxus off at our home when he found out mum was pregnant with me, and then I was born. Mum adopted Erik when he was about...ten, I was nine-ish, Laxus was also ten, and...then, half a year later, mum died and dad was stuck with three kids he didn't want," Lucy said candidly. Sting was certain his jaw was hanging wide open at this point. He didn't want to make her feel awkward when she had been nothing but polite with his story, so he stammered out, "I...sorry. About your mum. And your dad."

"Thank you. I'm...kind of glad dad is distant, the three of us would never be as close as we are if not," Lucy shook her head with a smile, and Sting had to glance away. How was she able to look so happy even after telling a story like that? Sting had to marvel at her happy-go-lucky attitude.

"So what are you working on, you absolute blonde? English?" Sting began suddenly as a way of redirecting the conversation. The atmosphere was too dark.

"Your resume," she replied. At his flabbergasted look, she grinned. "Ichiya's job is a one time fix. 2K isn't gonna last you all year, so a steady income is a must."

"Thanks," his heart fluttered. Sting could hardly remember the last time somebody had looked out for him like this, the last time somebody had gone ahead and made such a vast decision on his behalf for his betterment. He found himself rather...pleased that she was looking out for him. That she thought of him.

"So where are you selling me off to?" he migrated to her bed, flopping down next to her. She shifted the computer screen enough that he could see. "So far, I have McDonald's-"

"Ew, no, grease everywhere. Besides, this face? Not meant for cooking...fries."

"Starbucks-"

"I am not a sixteen year old girl, Lucy."

"Baskin Robbins-"

"Ooh, free ice cream, yes, send one there."

"T.G.I. Friday's -"

"That place is still in business?"

"You can't be so picky, Sting!" Lucy exploded. "Beggars can't be choosers!"

"Where do you work?" he asked. "I'll just apply there."

"The Bard Tavern," she said. "It's a little on-campus café, real sweet place. We are hiring, so..."

He tackled her to the bed. "You're the best-!"

"Bone. Bruise!"


"Our Father, who art in heaven-" Sting mumbled under his breath as he stood before the bathroom sink and stared into the hazy mirror. He let out an aggravated sigh and dropped his hands from the clasp they had been in, instead focusing his gaze up to the ceiling. "I haven't prayed in years, this is not gonna work, is it? Okay, big man, just...let Lucy do her magic, don't let my dick sleeve fall off, and please, please let this job be quick."

"I've modeled for Ichiya before," Lucy said as she entered the bathroom, waving around the bag from the store. "He does a fairly quick job."

"Your brothers let you model nude?" Sting exclaimed.

"My brothers aren't my keepers," she snapped. "I was short some cash first year for our trip to Crocus, and his work paid well."

"Did they ever find out?"

"No, and they're not going to," the warning in her voice was clear. "Now strip down."

Sting gulped and tugged off his shirt quickly, his jeans following in suit. His fingers stilled at the hemline of his boxers. "You know what? Never mind, just-"

Lucy's fingers caught the ends of his boxers and tugged down before he could finish. Her cheeks were bright red, and she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the cloth on the floor. "There. Done."

"R-right," he stuttered, kicking the material away. She reached into the bag and pulled out the glass tube of foundation and a puffy, flat topped brush. She dabbed a healthy amount of the foundation on the back of her hand and collected it with the brush. The first touch of the soft bristles and cold liquid to his thigh and he jerked.

"Sorry," he mumbled, focusing his gaze on her face. Though bright red, her face was that of deep concentration. Her tongue peeked out of her lips, a little pink bud that contrasted well with her lips. Her hands moved swiftly, rotating and covering the expanse of his skin.

"Do you know what he did with that nude of you, then?" he asked conversationally.

"Uh, it's in his studio somewhere. The first years all have to examine the nudes there to get a better understanding of the human body," she shrugged.

"You're not bothered that a bunch of first years are staring at your body?" Sting wasn't sure he would be one hundred percent okay with it. Sure, he was comfortable with his body, but for a bunch of strangers to be ogling at it? It was...odd to think about.

"I am, kind of, but...que pouvez-vous faire?" Sting had to brace himself on the counter as laughter rolled through his frame. His shoulders shook, and he had to put a fist to his mouth to stifle his mirth. Lucy stared at him with a pout. "What's so funny?"

"Y-your accent! It was t-terrible!" he cackled. Lucy scowled, glaring at him. "Fine, Mr Frenchman, you show me how it's done."

Immediately, Sting smirked. Being of French descent himself, his ability to speak the language was superior to most. His father had taught him with the intent to expose Sting to the culture, but Sting found it worked quite effectively for him when he wooed the ladies. For some reason, the way his voice deepened and his eyes darkened sent them into a frenzy. He bent down, tilting her head up to meet his smoldering gaze. "Si Dieu a fait quelque chose de plus beau que vous, je suis sûr qu'il garder pour lui-même."

The effects were immediate. Her breathing picked up, and, because of his finger placement, he could faintly feel the way her heart stuttered. She licked her lips, and Sting followed the pink muscle's movements, mirroring the action intentionally.

"W-what did you say...? I caught something about God."

He straightened up and shrugged. "It's a line from the French translation of the Bible."

Actually, what he had said was 'If God made anything more beautiful than you, I'm sure He'd keep it to Himself', but he wasn't about to let her find that out.

She smacked his thigh. "I cannot believe you tried to flirt with me using Bible verses...you're going to hell."

"I knew that a while ago, I had an orgy in the twelfth grade. Figured that sealed the deal," he almost burst into laughter again at the scandalized look on her face. She was too much fun to tease.

"Done the front," she announced. Sting glanced down to his legs and was surprised to see how smoothly the colours matched. Had he not known about his tan lines, he would have suspected this was his natural skin.

"Damn, Lucy, you do a good job!" he complimented. "You should have gone into special effects or something."

"Anybody can do this, Sting," she rolled her eyes, but looked immensely pleased at the compliment. "It helps when we get zits and we don't want to look like a mess."

"Shit, you're insanely good at this-"

A vicious snarl came from behind him. "Eucliffe!"

Sting barely had time to turn around before Cobra's fist caught his cheek. The blond yelped, falling back onto Lucy, who grunted as she caught him. Cobra's face was that of cold fury. His fist reared again, and Lucy launched her makeup palette at him. "Erik! What the fuck!"

"I should be the one saying that, why is he naked in front of you?" he roared. Lucy threw another cosmetic at him, this time a wand of mascara. "I'm helping him get ready for his modeling stint with Ichiya! What were you thinking?"

"You were kneeling in front of his naked body and he was saying you were good at something, what was I supposed to think?" he hissed. Sting felt the proverbial ice bucket wash over him. Cobra had thought she was giving him a-

"Blowjob?" Lucy screeched. "You thought I was giving him a blowjob?"

Never had Sting felt more embarrassed in his life. How had he not seen it himself? She had knelt before him, like many women had before, and had been eye level with his crotch, again, as had many women before, and Cobra had walked in to see it. Had Lucy not intervened, he was certain the very pointy objects in the bathroom would have found a new home embedded in his skin and muscles.

Shaking his head, he turned to face the squabbling siblings. Cobra had the decency to look somewhat sheepish as Lucy berated him, smacking him with her brush every so often.

"Er, Lucy...? I think my cheek is bruising..."

"Dammit, Erik! See what you did! Now I have to fix that, too!"

"I'm not apologizing."

"It really, really hurts, you guys..."


"It's not broken," Wendy prodded his cheek one last time. "Not fractured. It's just a bruise."

"What about a subperio?"

"It's not a bone bruise, Sting, you're fine," Wendy reached for the bottle of foundation and began to apply it to his cheek, rubbing gently. To the side, Sting could see Lucy reading over Mest's essay, scribbling on the margins with red pen. Cobra was looking over her shoulder, pointing at something every so often.

"Done!" the Health Sciences student said cheerfully, wiping her hands with a wet wipe.

"Thanks, Wendy!" Sting smiled, frowning immediately after. "Owww...that hurts..."

"No smiling for you," Mest sighed, staring at the duo marking up his sheet. "I didn't do that badly..."

"You got the laws for the insanity plea and asylum completely mixed up," Lucy muttered. Mest let out a groan and flopped back. "I'm gone for this world...Wendy, I leave my worldly possessions to you."

Wendy sighed. "Why have I put up with you for so long?"

"You love me."

"No, I love your Shiny Charm and Pokemon breeding skills."


"So if you do die here," Gajeel began, "I get your car, right?"

"You must be mistaken, Gajeel," Rogue said smoothly, "As his best friend, practically his brother, I get the car."

"You're both assholes, and the car is now going to Wendy," Sting informed them both.

"Welcome, men!" Ichiya's voice boomed as he opened the door. "Your parfum...it called to me!"

"2K, 2K, 2K, do it for the 2K," Sting mumbled under his breath as he walked in, eyeing the podium with trepidation. Ichiya pointed to the old chaise lounge on it. "Lie there! The men will assemble around you. Clothes off!"

Sting stripped down quickly, ignoring Gajeel's whistles, and laid out on the lounge, waiting for further instruction. Ichiya sat on a tall stool, wielding a paintbrush threateningly. "Your head on the arm, one hand behind it, the other on your hips. Lower...lower...lower...good! One leg propped up, the other laid out...excellent! Men! Assemble."

Rogue and Gajeel burst into laughter as the Trimen walked on stage without a stitch of clothing.

The Trimen were the on campus playboys, practically running an underground host club in the arts department. They were the heads of the university's elite fraternity, and were every woman's dream, despite being womanizing perverts. Hibiki Lates was a third year Computer Science Major who, for some reason, constantly sparkled. Ren Akatsuki was a Drama Major who was terribly shy and supposedly engaged to Sherry Blendy, although those were just bathroom rumours. Eve Tilm was a fourth year Criminology Major, and looked perpetually ten.

"Ah, Sting!" Hibiki greeted as he procured a vine of grapes from seemingly nowhere, dangling it in front of his mouth. Eve waved cheerfully as he crouched by Sting's feet, folding his arms on the edge of the seat, and Ren stood by with a fan.

"Today's theme, men...the Greek Gods!" Ichiya pointed to Sting, "A masterpiece bestowed upon us! He...his parfum...it reeks of masculinity! The same the Gods exuded! We must capture his brilliance! And...pose."

Sting lay back in horror, and he could just barely make out Rogue and Gajeel taking pictures.

It was there and then that he realized he really needed new friends.

He spent the better part of two hours staring up at Hibiki's sparkling face. How did it sparkle, he mused. Was it makeup? He had seen fairly glittery tubs of the stuff in Lucy's half of the cupboard in the bathroom, perhaps he used it, too? Was it a trick of the light, perhaps? Maybe it was in his soap, he had seen some oddities in the women's aisle, before, but then that begged the question-did Hibiki shop in the women's aisle? Was that why he always smelt of...roses and other flowers? Why his hair was so shiny and bouncy?

Sting wondered if he should make the switch, too.


"Men! Thank you for you work!" Ichiya finally said. Sting rose, like Dracula out of his coffin, and stiffly made his way over to his clothes, slipping them on. He wheeled around and was met by Ichiya's cheerful face, and a cheque being waved in the air. "Your two hundred!"

"H-hundred?" Sting stammered. Rogue and Gajeel both made their way over to flank him. "The flyer said two thousand!"

""That must have been a typo, men, we are the arts department. Not much funding. So here, your cheque," Ichiya scooted them out of the room. "Goodbye, men!"

"Sting?" Rogue waved his hands in front of his face. "Are you-holy shit! Gajeel, catch him-!"

"He actually passed out."


Professor Mard Geer stared at his students as they filed into the room, though few they were. It appeared some sort of party was going about tonight, and they had opted to go get ready for it. Why this required starting at 8 AM, he did not know.

Sting Eucliffe, surprisingly, was present. He could make out a faint puffiness at his cheek that makeup could not hide, and his eyes were red. The bruise, he knew, was from Cobra. Tempesta had spent a good hour regaling him with the saga of the not-blowjob in the lounge room, from where Mard had made sure to type up a quick reply to Mirajane regarding the incident.

His eyes drifted down to the email she had sent once more.

I had a word with Hibiki about the incident-Ichiya-san is wiring the remaining $1800 dollars to his account today. Honestly, poor Sting...

That was hilarious though! Poor Sting, Cobra looks like he can hit hard! But can you imagine how Lucy felt the whole while? She isn't a stupid girl, she must have known what It looked like...does this mean she did it intentionally?! Oh, she totally ships herself with him! Oh, we need to plot their babies...what colour eyes would they have?

Anyway, do you know who paid off my bill, Mard? I feel like this has happened before...oooooooh if it was Elfman, I'll be so mad! He needs to focus on his studies!

ANYWAY! I still need to return your coat! I'll be by during your lunch break with it!

Love,

Mira

"Lucy!" Sting squealed, "Ichiya-san sent me the remaining $1800!"

"Really?" She exclaimed, pushing her way in front of his screen to see, "No way! That's amazing, Sting!"

"I knew that penny-pinching bastard was cheating me! How you typo a hundred with a thousand? Nobody cheats the great Sting Eucliffe!" He announced proudly. Lucy rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder lightly. "Uh huh. Anyway, you got the job, you start next week. I had a talk with the manager, you're good to go."

"Lucy is the best!" Sting crowed, engulfing her in his arms tightly. She made a noise of protest, struggling in his grasp. "Stinky Sting! I let you use my hot water and you don't even bathe properly-!"

"This is eau de Sting, baby, embrace it!"

"Embrace my foot, you asshole!"

Mard sighed, hitting send, and rising up. "Mr Eucliffe, Miss Heartfilia, please keep your hands to yourself until you make it to your room, I'm certain you would feel more comfortable getting familiar with each other there. Although, if your brothers still have the key, I would suggest a hotel for ease."

"P-Professor!"

"Aw, not you, too, man!"

"Anyways. Hand in your pre-reading work for Aeneid, I trust you all completed it?"

"Shit, we're handing those in?"

"I told you to do it!"

Miss Strauss,

That was awfully generous of you, I hope you did not have to coerce Mr Lates in a manner that would be deemed unsavoury to most. Mr Eucliffe looked quite elated when he discovered the deposit.

I believe, genetically, they would have brown eyes as they are dominant. However, if I remember correctly, Jude Heartfilia has blue eyes, meaning the children will most likely bear that colour. I...will not begin to touch your other claim.

I do not know who paid your bill. If Mr Strauss did, leave him be, he is only trying to help. You should learn to accept help sometimes, Mirajane, you need not bear the burdens of the world on your shoulders-one day it may crush you beneath it.

There is no need to interrupt both our schedules, meet me at the Café Celadon at 1 PM to return it and have lunch-two birds with one stone.

Regards,

Professor Mard Geer.


A/N: MardMira was originally coined for Hit and Miss, and when I showed Dragon the first draft a couple months ago...well, here we are now! Question-I'm planning a MardMira supernatural AU featuring 6000 year old vampire history professor Mard, and human neighbour Mirajane, how many of you would be interested in it?

Hm...what else, what else...nothing! Alright, hope you enjoyed!

-Touko