Plans and Execution

Extra Levels – 6+2=8

"Shit!"

The explosion was massive and threw him back what felt like half a kilometer. The bastard was good, better than he expected, and better than the capture price on the job posting. Anyone with half an ounce of sanity would drop the hell out of this gig and high tail it back home where he had a sweet piece of brains and ass waiting for him.

But this was war now. This fucker had pushed the wrong buttons. He was excited. Less a job and more a game, he was laughing as he crawled off his back. He wanted to eat this bastard alive, absorb his power, and roar with his victory.

His cat didn't seem quite so eager. He was riding more along the lines of rolling his eyes and prepping to guard from any rear attack. Practical shit.

They'd been chasing this rogue, non-guild magician for the better part of two weeks. The initial task of finding him was difficult enough, but even after they'd located him, subduing him was proving absolutely impossible. His magic dealt with pressure; that was as much as they'd managed to discover about him. Any kind of pressure, controlling air pressure allowed him to fly, controlling the pressure of mass allowed him to blow shit up that shouldn't rightfully be capable of combustion without some sort of fuel.

So they found him and lost him three times. This was the fourth time finding him in over a week and a half, and though in someways he felt the chase was getting old... in other ways he hadn't had so much fun since Edolas. No one he cared about was truly at risk here, and though the bastard was wily, he was hardly badass enough to do him or his cat serious harm.

It was a challenge that had stretched on a little longer than intended but was not an actual problem. Except for the not insignificant fact that he kinda wanted to get back to the girl with the sweet ass who was probably no longer patiently waiting for him.

So as much fun as he was having, it was time to wrap this shit up.


It was another three days of fights and chasing before he was able to knock the inconsiderate ass out and turn him in to the nearest prison. The pay was pitiful considering the amount of work he put into the mission, and even his cat was disappointed in the lack of financial return in their time investment.

The cat's phrasing, not his.

As much as he disliked trains, or was frustrated by trains, it was still the fastest way to get back. A day of travel was all it took. He did have a moment of hesitation at the station; directly to the guild, or should he go to see his girl.

The shinigami messenger from the Master's son made his decision for him. It was annoying that the vile, self-righteous, massively insecure bastard always found him with so little trouble.

'I mean seriously,' he scoffed to himself, 'Raven Tail? Could it be more obvious that he's compensating for being abandoned by his cruel daddy?'

And the orders. The damn orders. A month at the guild getting final information for the moron's hostile takeover. He had any number of problems with that load of crap. The first problem being he hadn't seen any pay for the information he'd given in over two months. A month at base with no jobs, what the fuck was he supposed to do? He still had rent on his room to pay for! He had to feed himself somehow.

He'd have to talk the Master into giving him some sort of pay. Otherwise he was either going to empty his backlog of iron scraps or rely on his tiny little woman to take care of him. Like hell. What the shit kinda man would he be if he let her do all the work? It was probably bad enough that he basically moved in with her. He had to pull his own weight.

Besides it wouldn't just be him, it would be him and the cat. She'd have two dependents, three people resting on those narrow shoulders. It was too much.

He'd never asked for compensation for his double agent work, but for this month he might have to go begging to the old man. He had some savings, but even scrap metal was pricy, and he didn't have a whole lot of choices about whether he should or should not spend his money on iron. It was either buy iron or starve to death.

He had to physically restrain himself from ripping the paper messenger to shreds. And it was getting harder and harder to maintain a carefree and gleeful expression at the bastard's words. Not only was he supposed to pass on every scrap of information he could lay his shiny silver fingertips on during the month, but the Master's son also wanted him to do everything in his power to weaken the guild's defenses.

The level of hate this man had for his father really was staggering.

It was a hard walk to the guild. His cat at his side throwing him sidelong glances, unsure of how things were going to play out between the two guilds. And even more unsure of where the two of them would fall when the shit hit the fan. Completely understandable. If the old man had him continue the ruse up until the final moment … how would she respond?

How would any of them respond?

We she trust him despite the evidence in front of her, or would she instead remember that it was less than a year since his arm sported a Phantom tattoo. Would she remember the things he'd done to them when his membership and loyalty was given to a different master? Would she remember that he had stamped her with a Phantom tattoo after bolting her to a tree?

She loved him, but would she trust him when he was putting spikes in the guild roof again?


He snuck in the back way. No need to make it common knowledge that the first thing he did after a mission was check in with the boss. His relationship with the Master needed to appear no different from anyone elses. He shouldn't seem as close as the ones who'd been around for forever either, and the frequency that they talked would seriously screw that image.

Usually he and his cat parted for these meetings. The double agent thing was an agreement between him and the Master from before he'd gotten himself a cat. Not that he hadn't told him everything; they were partners, he deserved to know and be prepared for the shit storm such a job was likely to cause. But in the end it was his job, a solo job.

As lonely as that made him feel anymore.

The two of them climbed the back staircase together to catch the old man in a late afternoon nap. Grumpy as always at being woken up (especially by someone without tits; the old fart was – spirit world help him – an unabashed pervert); he managed to calm down after being told the news. One month to prepare.

It was plenty of time, really, to be ready for the dark guild. The biggest problem would be keeping the council out of their assholes long enough to take care of the situation. And then keeping the council pacified enough that they didn't do something bitchy like try and disband them.

Finally, since the Master wasn't volunteering the information he really wanted, he had to break down and ask; "How long do I keep it up? When can I put my iron fist in that cocky jackass's mouth? When does he find out you were playing the longer game?"

The old man stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then with a blink and a flash of a smile, he began to outline his strategy for the coming month. Every guild member would be called home. Nothing would be done against Raven Tail until that lightening jerk could be found and brought back.

He wasn't the only one caught between the two guilds. He forgot that most of the time. The fake lightening dragon slayer was grandson to one guild master and son to the other. A damn uncomfortable place to be. At least he only really gave a shit about one of the guilds. At least he was faking the connection with Raven Tail.

Then his cat asked the question, the favor, he really wanted to ask himself since … well forever. His cat asked the Master if they could tell her. They lived too close together, he argued, and it was too much trouble to lie to her.

"He won't be able to pull it off for a month solid. It's either tell her or he's got to dump her, and really they've both suffered enough for this relationship."

Again the old man looked away, seemingly entranced by the wall. "That child has endured more than many others, and if she's aware of what's going on she could probably be helpful to you. You made an okay team in the exam. You were maybe a little too impatient, and she maybe slightly insecure with regards to her own power, but the time you've spent together since has done something to mitigate both of those flaws in your partnership. So yes. Tell her."

'Tell her.'

He could tell her. She would understand. When the time came she wouldn't misunderstand and hate him. The fear wouldn't return and drive her away.

In his own head he had no problem admitting he was addicted to her. In his head. Out loud was still something more difficult. But when the lights were out and she wasn't tucked into bed next to him, he couldn't fathom how he would manage his life without her. What a fucking pointless waste of air and blood that would be.

Dismissed, he and his cat made their way to the main hall and more importantly the long bar. He'd have the devil chick pull him a pint, and then he'd tell the bookworm his nasty little secret.


He wasn't shitfaced. But tipsy was a pussy word. He was drunk. His cat had slunk home an hour earlier, telling him that he needed to spend the night with her alone.

Not something he minded, a night alone with her, but he might mind this one. She'd be upset that he hadn't told her sooner. They were supposed to be in a relationship or some shit, and he hadn't given her his full trust. He'd withheld himself.

He stumbled from the building. She was at home; that's what the others told him. He should have gone to her sooner, but he hit the liquid courage a little hard. To reveal this secret he'd kept for so long … using words. He wasn't the best with words. So he drank and ate some of the metal shavings the devil woman had collected for him in hopes that intoxication would distract him from his nervousness.

Instead it made him want to hurl the last three meals he'd downed into the river.

His judgment was absolute crap sometimes.

The information from the others was right, though. He could smell her from where he was on the street through her open window. He couldn't stop his breathy chuckle in response to the girlish giggle he could hear. She was caught up in the world of one of her storybooks again. Completely distracted.

He would normally enter through the door like any other sane human being, but the opportunity was too choice to pass up. And it wasn't like it was a hardship for him to elongate his legs and reach up to her upper story window. Sneak in.

She was curled up in her big round chair by her largest bookcase. Her face turned away from him and the open window.

Wearing one of his spare tunics and not a damn thing else.

It wasn't so much that it was sexy – the damn thing was gigantic compared to her, more like an ugly-ass ball gown than a tunic – it was that the thing was his, and she made it a point to submerge herself in the heavy garment that was way too freaking big for her.

He lowered himself to all fours. For several reasons: To keep from falling on his face from the booze, to be quieter, to be less visible, so he wouldn't have to bend so damn far to kiss her. Like an evil kitty cat he stalked to her chair, prepared to pounce.

"Do you honestly think I'm that easy." She hadn't looked up from her book. Hadn't looked at him, but the smile on her face said loud and clear that she was happy to get the jump on him for once. She thrust her chin at the window, and he turned to look.

Goddamn enchantment. A rune spell to notify of intruders. Smart. And damn dumb of him not to realize that open window was one hell of a blatant trap.

Oh well. He'd been drinking after all. And it wasn't like he really gave a flying shit about win or lose with her. As long as he could possess her. As long as she was his.

Secrets first?

He'd been gone for two weeks. No company but a cat. He loved his cat, but shit, it wasn't like the cat was her. The 'v' collar of his tunic pointed deep into her cleavage. No. Secrets after.

He hated getting new clothes made, but he hadn't had her in too long. And he was destructive by nature. He crawled the meter to her and curled his fingers into the collar. He always used tough fabrics, but, when he ripped, the tunic tore with almost no resistance. As if it wanted to come off of her. Or like her body wanted to be rid of it; to be free.

She was wearing underwear with metallic thread again. Evil bitch. But the nausea was gone, leaving nothing but desire behind. Using lips, teeth, and tongue he removed those as well. They tasted like nickle and iron and steel and her sweat.

Her hands were buried in his hair, pulling back his head away from her stomach so that he'd kiss her. He could have resisted, but he wasn't that fucking idiotic. She made room for him on her big chair, and bit by bit he shifted her until she was in his lap. There in that chair that smelled of nothing but her, and with her rising, naked above him, he was drowning in her scent.

At that moment he was the center of a bookworm universe, where nothing existed but her, and - to a lesser extent - him. The high pitched gasps that cascaded from her mouth into the charged air raised goosebumps on his hard skin and made his balls coil in their need for more. Her chest heaved in front of his face, and the humidity in the room from the hot moisture was oppressive. It was hard to breathe the air was so hot and thick.

She caught his lower lip in her teeth and bit down hard. His eyes were wide as he watched her, fascinated at the rhythm of her body over his and turned on by her daring.

"You were gone too long," she said between gasps. "Promise you'll stay ... for a little while at least. Or take close, short jobs. Two weeks … two weeks without any word. I was worried."

It was an easy promise to make.

Guild war was coming. He wouldn't be going anywhere.


He told her a few hours later in the bath. There was no real plan behind it, but his thinking was that if she were naked in a bath tub, relaxed, and caught in his arms, then she'd be less likely to go off without hearing the whole story.

They didn't exactly fit comfortably in the copper tub, but they managed, and he'd found that he liked to be in that tub with her. Liked to clean her after he made her dirty. Liked to watch her shiver at his touch.

And she just looked fucking amazing wet.

So when he was running a soapy cloth down the short line of her body, he told her his story. How the Master tracked him down. How he'd also been scouted by the dark guilds. How the old man had been searching for his son, with no luck, and how they'd managed to help each other out. The Master let him into the guild, and he found Raven Tail's base.

That was as far as he got before she started laughing. Of all the reactions he had imagined, laughing didn't even cross his mind. And he hadn't told the whole thing either.

She turned in his arms, mirth in the corners of her eyes, and kissed him soundly. "I already know. I've known since right after the Battle of Fairy Tail. I overheard you and the Master talking about it, and then I made sure to hear you again the next time you talked. I'm smart; I put two and two together easily enough. The Master's son thinks you're his spy, but really you're ours."

"Yeah and he's attacking at the end of the month. I have to destroy the whole damn building for him, like I did when I was with Phantom. He wants … he wants me to do it exactly like I did it before."

The mirth faded. Her eyes bore deep into his. "I trust you. If you need to pin me to a tree again to keep your cover, that's okay. We'll tell the Master tomorrow."

He shook his head. She didn't understand; he wasn't going to take it that far. Even if it was fake, even if she were willing, there was no way in the 12 puppy-torturing levels of hell he'd pull that shit on her again. Maybe she was strong enough to handle being bolted to a tree and tattooed again, emotionally.

But he sure as spirit shit was not.

"No way in hell. We'll beat the shit out of that pansy ass guild no problem without any games like that. I ain't never going to lay a hand on you again in any way that would hurt you. Or even look like it would hurt you." He eased his mouth over hers and stroked the curve of her lower back. "I don't even care if the old fart asks me to do it; I won't.

"I love you, Levy."

With his lips on her cheek and his fingers exploring the softness of her thigh, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to say. Like it had never been a problem for him in the past.

She went still on him. Her nails biting further into the muscles in his shoulders. He tasted salt in the dampness on her cheek. He licked his lips. In a small voice she asked him to say it again.

It was an easy gift to give her.

They'd have a month to come up with plans to destroy Raven Tail, but he wasn't worried. Their guild was packed to the gills with extraordinary mages of all sorts that the younger guild just couldn't match. But more than that, he didn't believe it was possible for them to lose.

He loved her. She was perfect. No punk ass exiled son with abandonment issues was going to fuck that up for him.


Author's Note: I seriously can't believe I did another one of these. It just fell out of me. But this does even things out again, 4 chapters for each of them. This should be it for this story. I hope. Damn. Thanks again to all the reviewers, and if you would please review this chapter? I love reviews!