"It is ill-advised for all but the truly prepared to face off against a dragon… especially avoid confrontations with flights with newly-hatched whelps or a newly-mated pair looking to establish territory." ~ Dragon Historia, pg 14 + 99

Chapter Twenty: That Which Should Be Destroyed

Ruby red eyes watched as Cobra pulled the silver-trimmed white hood of his coat over his head. Cobra carefully adjusted his ears so that they were comfortably hidden away for the duration of their time in town, until they were able to return to someplace with fewer people.

It didn't take the ability to hear thoughts and inner voices to be able to tell that the taller man with the long raven hair had something he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry. About the earrings."

"It is what it is," the poison dragon said with a light sigh.

"I mean it." Gajeel took Cobra's hand and squeezed. "You know I don't say something unless I mean it. I'll get ya new ones, enchanted n' everything."

"That may be more of a challenge than you're thinking." He squeezed Gajeel's gloved hand in return, a thanks hanging in the bond between them, tilting his chin up to look the taller man right in the eye. "Last chance before we go out..."

In the three weeks since their debut as an official team, the two normally reclusive Dragonslayers had unfortunately been noticed by The Weekly Sorcerer despite their best efforts. Pictures of them were rare - they took jobs from the guild on an inconsistent schedule, and light glinting off shining metal scales and foggy, toxic miasma obscured most shots. But word spread faster than any picture in a tabloid...

Black Steel Gajeel, Kurogane, the former head of the infamous Phantom Lord's S-class and destroyer of half of Magnolia; and White Snake Cobra, the former Demon General who had been dubbed the Sole Survivor of the Baalam dark guild Oracion Seis... Fearsome reputations, coupled with troublesome rumors of their early work: the partial destruction of a small town and the death of a nobleman, followed by being some of the named saviors of one of Fiore's most prominent cities from an extradimensional threat. There wasn't anything about their combination that didn't strike fear into the sheep-minded and yellow-bellied.

And magazines like The Weekly Sorcerer were eating the conflicting rumors up.

If word got out that FAIRY TAIL'S MOST CONTROVERSIAL TEAM was actually a couple? Cobra shuddered at the thought of that clusterfuck. He was already putting the idiot who had become way too important to him in a lot of danger just by being on a team with the man.

True to his word, Gajeel had kept most of the couple-y shit to private quarters. Most of it, anyways. There were little touches, purring murmurs, and aimed tawdry thoughts trying to grab Cobra's attention.

A soft, low-octave gihi escaped the iron dragon, pleased at the opportunity to press a final kiss to the lips of his mate. Then another, this time planted on Cobra's cheek as he turned to face away from the coming onslaught.

Pink dusted his cheeks as he swatted his boyfriend away. "Stop it, or we're never going to get to the train station."

At that, Gajeel's mouth drew into a long, sour pout, his thoughts followed like the muttering of a scolded child that was told no dessert until after dinner.

"You're the one who picked some monster hunting job all the way out in Tuly," Cobra told him flatly, rolling his eyes as he opened the front door. "That means taking the early train."

Gajeel's expression was briefly delighted, then determined. "Damn right I picked it!"

Tuly was a small, quiet farming village. One inn, one store, lots of corn, and an abandoned mill left over from a ring of thieves that had been run out of the area not eight months before. The villagers had barely begun to return to normal life when a plum wyvern had decided to make its nest in the former thieves' den.

Unlike green wyverns or blizzard wyverns, which both species tended to be the size of a small house, plum wyverns were only horse-sized. Where they lacked the muscle and bulk of their cousins, they made up for with tougher scales. They hid, then hit hard and fast.

Gajeel had picked that job expecting a good fight. A challenge. A hunt. Instead…

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up," the iron dragon flashed his fangs as he grumbled from his seat on the train ride back to Magnolia. His leg bounced in mild annoyance and he leaned his weight against the bag on the seat next to him. "S'not that funny."

Cobra sat across from him, leaning his elbow against the window sill, barely covering a shit-eating grin as he rested his chin in his hand.

"You're right, it's not funny," Cobra's voice was smooth, still very amused. "Somebody found you very attractive today." He pressed his hand over his mouth as he barely contained another snicker. "Apparently, I have competition and it's very stiff."

Finding and defeating the plum wyvern had been a lot easier than expected. As it turned out, that particular wyvern had a love for shiny things, like metal scales, so the beast had found them more than they had hunted it. And a mere wyvern was no match for a pair of dragons, after all.

Normally, Gajeel wasn't one to complain too loudly about jobs getting done quickly... but there just wasn't anything dignified about slaying a beast that had tried to drag Gajeel into its nest and mount him. It wasn't a graceful kill; but he'd hunted enough to know that while not every kill could be clean, every kill could be useful. The dumb plum wyvern's hide would sell well to someone who knew how to make armor out of it - which was the only reason he was taking it back with him.

And, normally, Gajeel would have given anything to see his mate's stupid puffy-faced laugh - but now Cobra was just mocking him!

"At least someone tried to woo me." Gajeel crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose up in the air. The red that splotched across his cheekbones was only contrasted by his nose studs. "Yer only interested in one thing from me."

Cobra rolled his eyes.

"What'll the papers think? We live together and we ain't even marri- mrrF!" Cobra kicked Gajeel right in the mouth. The iron dragon would normally retaliate, but if that tiny almost-mortified blush meant anything it was that he had his mate's attention and he wasn't going to lose it. He shielded his face with his forearms, gray iron scales emerging through his skin, his grin still in full force. "What will they say 'bout me at the cat-tilly-in?"

"You don't even know what a cotillion is, idiot."

"S'a fancy party where people show off their cats," Gajeel explained with convinced plainness, putting his arms down again.

The poison dragon's eyes narrowed as he listened for the details of where the iron dragon had heard the word. "No. You got drunk and watched the national cat show finals."

"Well if you know so much, then what's a cotillion?"

"It's a party where rich snobs show off their kids. Who has the best manners, who has the best dress, stupid shit that gets them bragging rights. They might try to set up marriages if they think someone else's kid made a good impression."

"Didn't think yer old guild was that pampered… or into manners."

Cobra settled back in his seat. "Had to crash a few."

"Ya ever go to any normal parties?"

"Did you?"

"Had t'crash a few," Gajeel responded. "Was never invited. People don't like invitin' me for some reason."

"Can't imagine why." He sighed, hearing the next question Gajeel wanted to ask. "I was invited to a few, but I never went." Brown fingers picked at the armrest of his seat, his eyes trained on where his nails dug into the plush upholstery. "Too loud, too many people for me to find it fun. The biggest things I went to were the occasional reptile expo and Alliance meetings."

The full name of the Baalam Alliance would have drawn attention from the few other people in the train car, but Gajeel still understood that's what Cobra meant. "Yeah? What's the fanciest grub they serve at those, souls on crackers?"

Cobra tilted his head to the side, red bangs flopping to the side. "No souls, not usually," he said. "Think the most exotic things I had to eat were wagyu, deepfish caviar with peanut essence, otoro, and tri-cubed baby seal sausage."

Gajeel blinked, not at all expecting any of those things. Caviar and sushi were familiar enough, and he would have killed to sink his teeth into a real wagyu steak, but sausage made from a seal? "What, baby seal, fer real?"

Cobra's mouth pressed into a thin smirk, a mischievous glint in his narrow eyes.

His mate was clearly teasing him, so Gajeel hunched his shoulders. "Fine, don't tell me. S'not like we can afford any of that fru-fru, pampered, prissy stuff anyways."

"No comment on the soul thing?"

"Easier to get than the rest of it." Gajeel shrugged indifferently. "But you'd probably just drown it in chili oil anyway, ya greasy snake."

While not a lot of others could appreciate darker humor, it was just one more thing they both shared. Plus, bickering with his mate was always fun and the ease between them was one of the things Gajeel found himself really liking about Cobra.

"Quit staring," Cobra muttered, looking away, almost as if he were embarrassed. He tugged the hood of his coat closer to his face before settling back into his seat.

"Not illegal to stare," Gajeel quipped with pride. Cobra's use of the hood to try to hide the light blush on his face didn't go unnoticed, and his thoughts cycled back to their conversation the day before. "So, why would getting new earrings be a challenge?"

Cobra continued to watch out the train car window, watching as the train rushed by an open field of tall grass. He tapped one of his fingers on the armrest. Gajeel felt their bond tighten, then loosen, as Cobra's anger briefly flared.

"The runework is custom. The creator," that specific word was hard and edged and full of so much venom that it left no room to doubt who Cobra was speaking of, "Of that enchantment is rotting in jail. So. Maybe it's for the best his work was destroyed."

Gajeel gave a short nod. It was no secret that Cobra held no fondness for his former Guildmaster; Gajeel couldn't imagine what it would be like relying on enchantments made by someone he despised. "Anything else this 'creator' made that needs destroying?"

"The pants," Cobra sheepishly answered after another long pause. He waved his hands out in front of him dismissively. "But until we can find someone that can copy that kind of advanced runework, I'm more comfortable keeping them."

Gajeel's studded brows pulled low on his face. "Why?"

"In case you forgot, my element destroys my clothes when I use it, including clothes with basic enchantments," Cobra explained. Gajeel bit his lip in a sly grin, a single fang impishly peeking out, at which Cobra arched a single eyebrow. "I don't want to be naked in front of other people."

The grin fell right off Gajeel's face at that, settling into a stiff scowl. Seeing his mate naked? Always good. No, not just good - amazing. Gajeel would never grow tired of that wonderful sight. Other people seeing his mate naked? Never, every part of Gajeel asserted. Not ever. Not in a million years. Gajeel would strangle them with his bare hands!

"Like I said before," Cobra turned back to the window. "It is what it is. I might not like it, but I can get used to more people knowing what I am. Slowly, anyways. Doesn't mean I want them to see me naked."

Gajeel had opened his mouth to speak when Cobra sat deadbolt straight, eyes wide, suddenly at attention. "Grab something!" he warned.

The emergency brakes on the train engaged and the air was filled with a deafening screech. Gajeel was almost thrown from his seat. The train slid for several more seconds before it came to a complete stop, unlike the sack of wyvern hide that softly thumped to the floor.

The crack of train car doors being forced open, the clanging of metal, and shouting could be heard somewhere off in one of the cars closer to the engine.

The poison dragon was still wincing when Gajeel looked at him, his palms pressed to his ears under his hood to soothe away his discomfort from the screeching brakes. They locked eyes for a moment, and in that glance was a silent, shared message: a brief concern, then confirmation that the other knew what was going on.

The train was being robbed.

With other passengers on the train in mind, the pair had decided to split up for the new hunt: Gajeel could take out the bandits inside the train and Cobra could pick off those outside without worrying about any accidental envenomations.

As far as dark mages went, the losers whose faces kept running into his iron pole-fists were pretty standard for the low-level flunkies. Not a challenge. Which, as he cleared another car and tossed another body out a window, frustrated Gajeel to no end.

Was he that good? Obviously. But he was really starting to feel blue balled with the lack of challenge lately. His dragon blood wanted to fight, to tear with fangs and claws, not just plow through basic enemies!

Before he knew it, the thugs were all but gone and the last car before the engine was all that was left to clear. It was an armored car, the enchanted crow-bar damaged door bore the markings of the Magic Council as well a stamp that looked like two half-circles barely touching.

"PECOC…?" Gajeel wrinkled his nose at the split marking of that particular Council sector. "Why the hell would PECOC or the Council send anything needing an armored train car… on a passenger train?"

He quickly shook his head. That could wait.

The light in the armored car was harsh, a large panek of bright, sterile white lacrima providing a terrible view. Gajeel smashed the lacrima lighting panel with a well-aimed Iron Dragon's Club. It left the bandits alone in the dark with boxes and crates and pallets… and Gajeel.

A metallic scent drenched the car, sharp and harsh... and so very delicious. The cargo was something with a very high iron content, making Gajeel's stomach rumble and his mouth water.

It was distracting, but made it easier to scent for his prey that smelled downright awful. Like grease, smoke, and very faint traces of a spicy cologne that Gajeel could have sworn he'd smelled before. He couldn't place where…

"Narc," the dark mage spat with a wet, ragged breath.

Cobra flexed his fingers, crooking the tips of his claws in even deeper, soaking in the pained cry his prey let out as painful venom leached into his system. "Didn't quite catch that. You'll have to speak up if even I can't hear you."

The man slumped to the dirt with a wet thump, the hole in his chest wafting trails of red smoke. Three more bodies dotted in a sort of trail alongside the train.

The dark mages from Naked Mummy were obvious, with their magic vehicles and motorcycles they'd been mostly used as contraband runners or getaway drivers. Naked Mummy had been one of Racer's lot, but they knew of Cobra. Knew enough to still fear him. Cowards, but they knew enough ride away from a fight they couldn't win... It was the back-up from another dark guild that didn't seem to be on the same page.

These new guys bore a guild seal design of an eye with a corkscrew tail. Vaguely familiar, but Cobra didn't outright recognize the symbol. If they were newer, he wouldn't be too surprised - he'd been out of the game for months now. However, one thing was obvious: a lot of them held a lot of bitterness towards the Council and Fairy Tail.

He glanced around at the low-level thugs, hearing murmurs laced with fear as the bandits weighed their options:

Is the stuff on the train worth it?

The Revenant won't be happy if we come back empty-handed...

Are you crazy? That guy ran through them like butter!

"Anybody else want to call me a narc?"

The train robbery foiled, the remaining dark mages fled in a flurry of wheels and engine roars.

Gajeel opened the side-door of the armored car to finish tossing out the trash he'd beaten up inside. He caught sight of his mate standing off to the side of the open door, his hood down as he listened to who knew what out in the forest surrounding the stopped train.

"They get any of it?" he asked.

"Five crates of whatever it is they stole," Cobra replied. "They didn't know what they were stealing. Just that they were supposed to steal it."

"Car's full of metal. Lot'sa cold iron," Gajeel said. In a half-busted crate he knocked his knuckles against a stack of small white metal bars, each no bigger than a candy bar. "The rest is stainless steel and some copper."

Cobra glanced at untouched spools of copper wiring and left-behind copper cauldrons. "They took mostly cold iron. But they left the copper behind, which doesn't make sense. The copper has more street value for alchemy. You can synthesize cold iron, but not copper." His ears perked, though one pinned back towards the iron dragon. "Put it back."

Gajeel snorted, taking the end of the bar of cold iron out of his mouth, spit stringing from his lips to the metal. "I gotta taste it ta tell of it's the real deal or the homebrew kind."

"I meant the four bars you shoved into your pockets." He turned to look at Gajeel, briefly glancing down to the rectangular shapes that outlined against the rough fabric of his pants.

"Hey. My eyes are up here, Slitherfuck," Gajeel gloated through a mouthful of cold iron. He swallowed, inspecting the bitten bar in his hand with suspicion, then put only one of the four bars he'd taken back. "Hm. It's real. Doesn't have the snap of the synthetic kind when I bite into it."

"Authentic cold iron is hard to get," Cobra commented.

"Mm," Gajeel agreed, shoving the rest of his delicious snack into his mouth with a few big bites. "Don't know what a dark guild or PECOC would want with real cold iron."

"Their boss wanted it, from what I heard. Given that they didn't know what they were stealing, it's likely just wanted to steal something from the Council for bragging rights." The redhead shook his head. "Oracion Seis managed the minor dark guilds, so it makes sense that with us… gone... that the ones the Council hasn't rounded up yet are scrambling."

"Cut the head off and the legs run wild," Gajeel reasoned with a shrug. "So were these bandits old friends of yours?"

"Not entirely," Cobra said. His shoe prodded the side of a fallen dark mage, turning the stilled man over to better see the guild symbol stamped on the man's wrist. "I know those goons that fled on motorcycles were from Naked Mummy. But I'm not familiar with this other symbol."

Out of curiosity, Gajeel turned his head to glance at the symbol on the dead man's wrist and all color drained from his face.

In a dark, muddy color an eye with a corkscrew tail stared back: the symbol of Phantom Lord.

A/N: Hey all, I really want to thank you for the kind comments you guys have been leaving all over the place! Big thank you to CoSmO333, shes, IronDragon4, Stephanie, Venomslayer, and the cojeel-loving friends from tumblr for all the encouraging words as this fic has gone on.

I also wanted to share that a Chinese translation of this fic is available on AO3! ( /works/24835654, add the first part of the AO3 address before that.) Major thanks to shes for translating! I don't mind translations of this fic going up as long as you provide a link (so I can be nosy. ^.^')